Chapter 853

Chapter 853

When restlessness set in, many individuals chose to retreat beneath their quilts and wallow in their beds, but Kraiss was cut from a different cloth.
When he felt unsettled, his activity only increased. He would rise several hours before necessary and immerse himself in even more work.
“The infrastructure for water and waste is nearly at its conclusion. We have managed to increase the internal city wells to six.”
Nurat, who had already donned her gear, spoke from beside him. The sky was still pale, preceding the dawn. At a time when most of the populace remained in slumber, Kraiss was already dressed in his formal attire and stationed at his writing desk.
“Excellent. Instruct Edin—actually, tell his little sister to oversee the final touches on that project. Remind me of her name?”
“Rosalind.”
That was a name steeped in the history of the continent. It belonged to a female academic who had dedicated her life to the study of the Demon Realm’s biology.
“Did her father simply adore her? I doubt he came up with that name on a whim.”
There had been a period where it was fashionable to invite fortune into a child’s life by naming them after legendary figures.
“It is hard to say.”
The conversation was merely casual. The presence of administrative talent was always a welcome asset. With that thought, Kraiss began flipping through his volumes.
Some argued that books were merely repositories of stagnant information, while others claimed the entirety of existence was contained within their pages. Kraiss held a position precisely in the center.
“There are elements you require and elements that are pointless.”
The value lay not in the physical book, but in the perspective of the one reading it.
“It is about adopting a stance of focused attention—much like the Captain—and extracting what is vital.”
Absorb the essential knowledge with courage and discard the fluff without sentiment. That was the philosophy Kraiss applied to his reading.
Kraiss had significantly altered his outlook on life after observing Enkrid. His ambitions had grown, and he had shifted his trajectory slightly.
He was no longer satisfied with merely establishing a social club for the appreciation of high culture while entertaining noblewomen.
“To achieve that, must we not see the end of conflict?”
Kraiss pondered this internally as he flipped a page. He was currently reading a treatise on the ecological systems of the Demon Realm.
Coincidentally, it was the work of the historical Rosalind. Resting beside it was another manuscript—one written by the living Rosalind, the daughter of the insurgent province—which served as a record of her personal observations and experiences.
“A token of appreciation. For taking in my sibling.”
She was far removed from the arrogant ladies of the court, yet she didn’t possess the frantic energy of the common women in the markets.
She possessed a quiet dignity, yet she wasn’t deluded by her aristocratic status. She simply performed her duties and moved with purpose toward her goals.
Her approach was prudent, but her execution was fearless. She was a deep thinker who understood the nature of her responsibilities.
“She was quite striking, wasn’t she?”
Nurat posed the question. Clouded by his lingering nerves, Kraiss faltered.
“Ah, very much so.”
He had noticed many men attempting to catch a glimpse of her. Her physical beauty and the aura she projected were far from commonplace.
It was peculiar that she hadn’t been traded away in a political marriage years ago. Was it a matter of youth? In high society, age was rarely a legitimate deterrent.
At her partner’s admission, Nurat’s hand drifted toward her side. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of her weapon.
“Her complexion was quite pale as well, I imagine?”
“Indeed it was.”
Kraiss replied, visualizing Rosalind Molsen. Despite her hardships, her skin remained flawless. In comparison to Nurat, it was whi—wait.
Kraiss quickly checked his train of thought. A sharp metallic sound—the release of a scabbard lock—reached his ears.
“Quite beautiful, then?”
Nurat pressed him again.
If he misspoke now, he was a dead man. He wouldn’t fall to a predator, a sub-human, a demon, or an opposing warrior, but to his own lover.
Kraiss’s sharp intellect accelerated. He refused to let his guard down at the critical moment.
“…Not nearly as beautiful as you.”
It was a delayed response, but it arrived just in time to save his skin. A chill ran down his spine. Nurat withdrew her hand from her waist. The weapon clicked back into its locked position.
“I survive to see another day.”
In truth, it wasn’t a matter of life and death. It was a romantic provocation. This minor bit of levity served to loosen the tight knot of anxiety in his chest.
Filled with relief, Kraiss spoke.
“That was the correct response, I assume?”
“If it hadn’t been, you wouldn’t be breathing.”
Continuing their familiar banter, Kraiss returned to his texts, gathering the insights he required.
“The predators within the Demon Realm frequently defy what we consider logical.”
Even if one understands their patterns and monitors them regularly, creatures that have never been documented before continue to emerge from that territory.
“It is nearly impossible to establish certainties.”
For the intelligent races of the continent, the Demon Realm remained a domain of the inexplicable. Relying solely on historical data offered no guarantees.
Kraiss rubbed his brow with his thumb. The action seemed to alleviate the pressure in his head.
By this time, Edin would be in negotiations with the trade city’s commercial leader, and Abnaier would be refining the structure of the permanent military force.
“Everything will proceed as planned, surely. The path to the South has been laid with care.”
The primary engineering project the Border Guard had focused on recently was the construction of the highway.
Such an undertaking was time-consuming. Progress stalled during the rains, and it demanded a massive labor force.
“If we can transform the ‘Stone Road’ from a name into a reality…”
It would revolutionize commerce and the transport of resources. Currently, it only linked four hubs—Lockfried, Martai, Greenperl, and the Border Guard.
“Once the hostilities with the South conclude…”
Kraiss had learned the secret to not being consumed by his worries. He envisioned the future. A bright, successful future.
“We shall extend the connection to the South as well.”
The lands of Viscount Harrison were rich in grain and home to master brewers. High-quality alcohol was a premier commodity.
The subsequent phase would be a network linking the capital, the South, and every point between.
To achieve all of this—
“You must secure victory and return, Captain.”
Kraiss whispered his inner hope. They needed to crush the Southern forces swiftly and make their way home.
Nurat placed a firm hand on her partner’s shoulder.
“Do not try to change the subject.”
“Ah, well, that wasn’t my intention.”

—

Certain predators dwelling in the Demon Realm possessed the capacity for thought. It was a distinction earned by those who transcended basic primal urges.
This was true of the centaur currently commanding the pack. Through frequent skirmishes with humans on the border of the Demon Realm, he had developed a strategic mind.
The Demon Realm is a brutal place. Monsters compete for dominance and slaughter one another. The territory is split between zones with rigid boundaries and those with fluid ones.
The commander leading this specific horde was an entity accustomed to traversing such borders.
He had moved across the edges of the Demon Realm, entering and exiting the lands of the demons on several occasions.
His survival was a result of his blistering speed combined with his cognitive abilities. That was how the pack leader had endured.
However, entities that had recently carved out territories in the Demon Realm had begun to pressure him. As if they had only tolerated his presence out of indifference, those with powers far exceeding his own were now hunting him.
Developing logic did not mean abandoning survival instincts. Through instinct, he sensed the looming threat; through logic, he determined his escape route.
Aware that there were lands beyond the Demon Realm far superior to his birthplace, he turned his sights in that direction.
In reality, a subtle manipulation was at play, though such a concept was beyond the comprehension of a mere beast.
“A place where the hunt is simple.”
That thought alone occupied the leader’s mind. That, and the necessity of crushing the targets before him.
“A lethal adversary.”
The commander had breached the human territories, and while searching for targets that weren’t protected by stone walls, he had encountered Enkrid’s group.
The primary trait that separated the centaur leader from his kin was his history of killing opponents more powerful than himself.
“Sluggish targets are easy.”
Regardless of how much power one wields, it is useless if one cannot close the gap. Predators understand this. Thus, if they maintain their distance, they prevail. Having succeeded with this tactic before, the monster prepared to use it again.

—

The monsters that congregated in the Demon Realm were of a far higher caliber than those found on the continent. Was it by someone’s machinations that such a group encountered Enkrid’s team?
There was no grand design. It was a fluke. While there was a trace of demonic interference involved, it stemmed from internal dynamics within the Demon Realm, not a specific plot against these individuals.
It was all a matter of chance, yet for those who are ready, chance takes on the form of destiny.
“A catalyst and a drive.”
He recalled the day he was knighted—the foundation he had built until the moment he reached that rank. He remembered the setting sun, the intoxication, and the flood of thoughts that had filled his head.
Enkrid was well aware that Odd-Eye had not been idle during his absence.
“His spirit is firm and his intent is soaring.”
Even without the intervention of the Dragonkin, he could feel Odd-Eye’s resolve. It wasn’t an audible sound, but rather a direct transmission of Will.
As Odd-Eye sprinted with Enkrid on his back, the man lowered his center of gravity, gripping the beast’s frame tightly.
It was the optimal position for reducing drag. He knew the technique by heart.
The moment Odd-Eye took his initial stride, the air pressure intensified enough to sting his skin. Two steps, three—the forward momentum felt like leaning into a hurricane.
A sound like crashing waves filled his ears before fading into silence. Odd-Eye was at a full, desperate gallop. The velocity was enough to disorient even a knight’s equilibrium.
“What exactly did you experience, and where, while I was gone?”
With that silent question, Enkrid hunkered down further. Odd-Eye’s mane felt like sharp needles against his head.
Without a helm, it felt as though he was being pricked by thorns.
What would be the result if they performed a lance charge at this pace? They could likely shatter a fortified wall. His instincts were certain of it.
However, the one charging would likely suffer as well.
“Clad in a full suit of armor.”
Would he need to encase himself in a shell of iron—utilizing the techniques of Will—to survive the impact?
He suspected he would only find out through trial.
A knight’s physical form does not literally turn to metal. Through rigorous discipline, it merely takes on those qualities.
Such was the intensity of Odd-Eye’s run. The centaur horde, which had positioned scouts like a disciplined regiment, was suddenly looming large.
Small specks grew into distinct figures and entered his field of vision. The shapes were distorted by speed. Even with a knight’s heightened perception, he was seeing ghosts of movement. The centaur pack hammered their hooves into the soil in unison. In truth, they were always in motion.
The second they identified Odd-Eye, they pushed their speed even further.
Enkrid ignited his Will and sharpened his focus. He forced his thoughts to move faster. Even with his perception accelerated, the world did not slow down. The speed of the charge was that extreme.
The pack tore across the earth. In a world devoid of sound, the landscape was filled with high-speed motion that was difficult to track. Enkrid’s eyes instinctively analyzed their anatomy.
“Their limbs are massive.”
Their muscles were defined and powerful, while their torsos were relatively lean. Their hooves looked like solid blocks of iron. Their entire physiology was engineered for high-velocity travel.
That build was the reason they could outrun typical monsters several times over.
“An evolutionary adaptation.”
Keeping himself low with only his eyes visible, he saw that as the pack utilized their specialized muscles, the distance between them did not vanish quickly.
Furthermore, they were releasing arrows made of bone while in full stride. Based on that skill alone, the description of “monsters performing miracles” was accurate.
“They are wearing protection as well.”
These were creatures that had clearly adopted human tactics. They had woven and shaped bone to shield their humanoid chests.
Equipped with bone bows, strings fashioned from the sinew of other beasts, and bone projectiles—
“A militarized pack?”
Enkrid gripped Dawn Tempering. It was no simple feat to wield a blade while maintaining such a low, compact posture.
But if the situation demanded it, he would. Odd-Eye was doing his part, after all.
The enemy group twisted their torsos, bone bows at the ready. Half-man, half-horse—the lower body handled the movement while the upper body handled the archery. A flawless division of labor.
“Odd-Eye is unique.”
Enkrid was convinced of this.
Horses are naturally skittish. Yet, Odd-Eye did not flinch or panic as the arrows began to fly.
The mounts the rest of the group used were mere travel animals, not combat-trained steeds—yet they remained steady. That calm was entirely due to Odd-Eye’s presence.
And furthermore—
“He crushes and mauls standard monsters without a thought.”
Was that a natural trait or a developed one?
The centaurs loosed their arrows. The projectiles, fired at high speed, were now homing in on Odd-Eye.
Enkrid tracked every single one. Staying low, he unsheathed his weapon, locked his legs around Odd-Eye’s body, held Dawn Tempering in his right hand, gripped the center of the steel with his left, and used it like a short, heavy baton.
“Extended reaches or wide arcs would only create wind resistance.”
The most efficient method was to use minimal motions to deflect the incoming fire. Their accuracy wasn’t perfect anyway, as they were firing while retreating. The real danger lay in the volume of fire and the toxins coating the tips.
The edge of Dawn Tempering batted every arrow out of the air.
“Keep going, Odd-Eye. I will handle the projectiles. You just run. Run as you see fit.”
He nearly bit his tongue trying to speak during the gallop, but he forced the words out.
It wasn’t a situation where the sound would carry clearly—but he spoke regardless.
By voicing the command, he projected his Will. That was Enkrid’s method.
Those words served as the final push for Odd-Eye. Though Enkrid couldn’t see it, a brilliant light ignited in the horse’s eyes.
His Will reached its peak.
With a wet, tearing sound, blood sprayed from Odd-Eye’s back. From the crimson fluid, something erupted with a sharp crack.
In the pale mist of sweat evaporating from the heat, a streak of red appeared.
They were wings. A pair of appendages emerged along Odd-Eye’s spine and flanks, unfurling.
A mist of blood trailed behind them. The wings, shaped like horizontal blades, sliced through the air resistance.
A sharp, slicing sound echoed in the air.
Simultaneously, Odd-Eye’s speed surged again. For a moment, Enkrid felt as though his internal organs had been left behind.
A knight’s physique is beyond that of a commoner, yet even he hadn’t experienced this sensation in a long time.
The feeling of moving so fast the body struggles to keep up with the momentum.
A centaur with wide, dark eyes appeared directly in his path. The creature was within striking distance.
Instinct, insight, and years of grueling practice converged.
As everything focused into a single point, Enkrid’s arm lashed out.
The sword, propelled by Odd-Eye’s violent sprint, cut through the air horizontally.
A massive boom followed a second later. Before the sound could even register, Enkrid’s blade had caused the centaur’s form to disintegrate.
Even though the True Silver edge had made a clean cut, the creature’s body exploded. The sheer velocity of the charge had been converted into raw kinetic destruction.
The monsters had been overtaken. Enkrid felt a rush of adrenaline from the speed, while the centaur pack was consumed by absolute terror.