Chapter 822

Chapter 822

Illumination washed over her features. Strands of raven hair blended with the radiance, and in her wake, a second Esther materialized. However, this version of Esther was composed of nothing but outlines and murk—a total absence of light that could only be described as a shadow. Even so, the silhouette of such a striking woman possessed a unique quality, resembling a masterpiece crafted with elegant strokes.

“I have a feeling seekers are on my trail,” Esther remarked.

“Who would that be?”

“Those who have strayed into the depths of Oedo—practitioners of heresy—who have consumed their own souls with their version of truth. Savages who imagine themselves masters of the world while remaining imprisoned in a pit of ignorance.”

Her speech was grand, yet it felt appropriate for those she described. Enkrid gave a single blink before responding.

“So, you’re saying some crazed sorcerer or hag is on the way?”

Enkrid possessed a talent for stripping a situation down to its barest essentials. Following a brief silence, Esther let out a soft chuckle. Her sapphire eyes crinkled with amusement. To her, his blunt description wasn’t inaccurate.

“Correct.”

The witch, who once carried the essence of a leopard, gave a nod. A threat was closing in, and its focus was entirely on her. It was a pointless peril—a shadow that would chase her until the end of her days, but it didn’t have to involve him. Was there any logical reason for him to take on this burden? Should she place another weight upon the shoulders of the man already tied to the servant of the Devil?

In a comparable moment, Shinar had opted for solitude and nearly ended up as the Demon’s consort. Mad mages and witches were at their most lethal when they became hyper-fixated on a single goal. That was their nature: lost in forbidden doctrines, convinced that the narrow reality they gripped was the ultimate truth. Through the trials of Fantasia and the lessons of illusion, Esther had forged a fresh understanding of the mystic arts. Despite her growth, she still viewed these pursuers as a legitimate threat.

Esther had the power to divert this danger away from Enkrid and resolve it personally. All she needed to do was resign from the Border Guard. The amber light of the setting sun hit the face of the man whose eyes shared that same golden tint. Esther found she couldn’t look away. The blend of orange and gold made his profile appear more striking than usual. He had the kind of face that would captivate nearly any woman in the city. Esther was well aware of the correspondence noblewomen sent his way; seeing him now, their infatuation seemed only natural.

Enkrid, who had been observing the sunset, shifted his attention to Esther.

“Right. We’ll take them on together.”

His declaration was brief, resolute, and final. It left no room for counter-arguments.

“Excuse me?” Esther asked.

“Isn’t that what you were hinting at?”

Enkrid returned his gaze to the horizon.

“Yes,” Esther agreed. She didn’t falter or try to dissuade him. She simply accepted it. She had already received her answer when he previously asked if she was standing with him.

If she abandoned the Border Guard to act alone, she could eventually deal with the heretics, but it would be a long, lonely road. During that time, she would be forced to leave this man’s company. Esther finally understood what she truly craved. She didn’t want to be someone who walked a solitary path. Much like her mentor used to gaze at the heavens, Esther wanted her life to be populated by others—friends, peers, and acquaintances. From the students who watched her weave spells to the shopkeepers who offered marmalade with a shy grin, they had become her reason for being. Magic was merely the tool, never the destination.

The man who once aspired to be a knight had achieved that rank, yet he hadn’t stopped moving. His true goal wasn’t just the title, but the things that could only be accomplished by holding it. Studying the arcane didn’t require one to be a hermit. There was no law stating a practitioner must rot in a tower or a secluded cabin. Historically, mages were associated with two great calamities: the summoning of the Devil known as the Father of the Dead, and the release of the fire-beast, Salamander. While the Demon Sanctuary Church spearheaded the latter, magic users certainly played their part.

That dark legacy had forced them into the shadows. There was a period when burning witches and mages was a common practice. Naturally, those who were true Observers were rarely caught; instead, the flames usually claimed the innocent. Esther realized there was no obligation to follow the old traditions. The grim philosophies of ancient mages held no weight for her anymore. She found genuine delight in manipulating the arcane. The quest for secrets and the thrill of discovery brought her joy, but she kept her magic as a means to an end, never letting it distract her from what she truly wanted.

The pair stood side-by-side as the day faded. The sky transitioned into deep purples and streaks of orange, casting long shadows across their faces.

“What are you two up to?”

The question came from the fairy. Shinar arrived with light, quick steps, her sudden appearance almost comical. When Enkrid let out a laugh, she continued in her usual composed manner.

“It looks like a groom trying to smooth over a spat with a grin.”

A fairy, incapable of falsehood, still knew how to play with the truth by reinterpreting what she saw.

“How are you feeling?” Enkrid asked. It was her strike that had finished the Balrog.

“Fully recovered. If you doubt me, I can show you exactly how healthy I am in private.”

Her teasing grew bolder, drawing another laugh from Enkrid. The sun finally dipped below the horizon, moving from gold to violet and eventually to a deep navy. Once the light was gone, Rem produced a bottle of high-quality spirits from an unknown source and organized a gathering. For various reasons, the whole group began to congregate.

“Is this a party for my homecoming?” Shinar inquired.

“What are you talking about? Did you get a concussion?” Rem snapped back. Meanwhile, Kraiss began preparing a feast, roasting a whole pig seasoned with a blend of spices.

“Listen close, and I’ll tell you the saga of the most handsome man in the West,” Rem declared, spinning a wild, booze-fueled fantasy. Enkrid paid close attention; he always found a good story entertaining, no matter how unbelievable it was. Jaxon gave a soft snort at Rem’s exaggerations, maintaining the cool demeanor of one who actually lived such tales.

“Forgive the interruption, but the God of War doesn’t forbid affection, nor did he tell us to reject those who seek us out,” Audin chimed in, reminiscing about his youth.

“Is this the one about the female bear?” Peld asked, his face flushed from the potent alcohol. Enkrid looked at him. This was a face he might not see again after tonight. Earlier, Peld had spoken with the same loose tongue as Rem—the kind of disrespect that usually resulted in an execution.

“Are you suggesting you’re ready to meet the Lord in person, brother?” Audin asked. Peld blinked, momentarily jolted into sobriety.

“No, that wasn’t my meaning at all.”

Rem chuckled at the exchange, goading Peld to admit it was a beastwoman. Audin aimed a playful strike that Rem parried easily. The atmosphere was heavy with the effects of the drink.

“They say if you touch this stuff every day, you’re a dead man,” Rem said, gesturing to his bottle.

“Fear? Stress? Not for me!” Kraiss shouted, clearly intoxicated. “Let the Devil’s minions come! I’ll tear them apart!”

Enkrid watched it all in silence. Suddenly, Teresa stood up.

“Shall I give you a song? Pay attention now.”

Her muscular arms were visible as she prepared to sing. Being half-giant, her physical strength was enough to crush a man, yet her singing voice was surprisingly melodic—a bit gritty and raw, yet hauntingly clear. It was a complex, layered voice, much like a fine aged spirit that is both potent and delicate. She sang “Wandering Jack,” a folk song known across the land with varying lyrics. It told the story of a traveler named Jack who finally found a home and love.

Her melody drifted through the air, easing the tension in everyone’s muscles. Audin mentioned it sounded like a holy hymn. Even in her drunken state, she was using her divine energy. Just hearing her sing seemed to wash away their exhaustion.

“Why are you all so weak when it comes to a little drink?” Rophod complained. He kicked off his boots, rolled up his trousers, and found a spot in the corner of the yard to sleep. “And why are you partying right outside someone’s door?” He grumbled that the dirt felt like a luxury mattress and passed out instantly. No one bothered him. Ragna, who had been drinking quietly, was already unconscious.

Even with his high tolerance, Enkrid felt his head spinning from the spirits. The stars were bright now that the sun was gone. Under the celestial glow, Esther used a minor spell to keep the bugs away. A drunk Shinar was loudly proclaiming her plan to have twenty children. Lua Gharne had literally burrowed into the soft earth.

“This feels right,” she whispered, enjoying the cool dampness of the soil.

The servant of the Devil had arrived, yet the group remained unchanged. Enkrid wasn’t being naive; he knew the gravity of the situation. Far beyond their current post, a massive force was waiting. In the Demon Realm, Devils stirred. Across the world, new dangers were emerging—foes far more terrifying than the Black Blade bandits or simple monsters. Naurillia was dealing with the aggressive South, whose spies were already causing chaos in the capital. Esther had warned of the group coming for her. Tomorrow might bring an army of monsters or legendary beasts.

These thoughts could easily become a forest of anxiety, but no one in the group flinched. They lived for the present moment.

“A crazy barbarian, crazy booze, a crazy captain… it’s a crazy day. But it’s also damn good,” Jaxon remarked, showing that even he wasn’t immune to the alcohol.

Enkrid smiled. They weren’t stuck in today; they were simply moving toward tomorrow. Every day held value because it was unique. From his first day in the loop until now, Enkrid’s core remained the same. He closed his eyes, soaking in the peace, vowing to protect this tranquility for those behind him.

He eventually fell into a drunken slumber, only to wake up feeling the sway of a small boat. He immediately leaned over the edge.

“Uuurgh.”

“…I’ve seen a lot, but you’re the first to get sick over the side of my boat. What did you get into?”

The drink had been powerful enough to intoxicate the spirit as well as the flesh. Enkrid took a deep breath, feeling the fog lift. Since this was the Ferryman’s mental realm—a dreamscape—true drunkenness couldn’t exist here, yet his body had reacted out of instinct. The combination of the rocking boat, the lingering burn of the alcohol, and the cool air had turned his stomach.

“Phew.” Enkrid let out a long sigh.

“You reek of spirits,” the Ferryman noted. Tonight, the Ferryman seemed gentler—softer and more considerate than in their previous encounters. At least, that was the impression he gave.