Chapter 855

Chapter 855

Regardless of Shinar’s words, Enkrid remained submerged in the depths of his own reflections.
“Roughly half.”
He sensed that his synchronicity with Dawn Tempering was flawed. It felt as though only a partial connection had been established.
How did that compare to Penna? From the very beginning, that blade had felt like an external “visitor.”
His sharpened instincts provided this clarity. While quantifying it as exactly half felt imprecise, the sensation of a void was undeniable.
“Is there a specific cause?”
Was the weapon itself resisting him? Was his own mindset the obstacle? Could it be a deficiency in his technical prowess or a lack of innate gift?
His analysis plunged toward the foundation of his being, scouring his history for a solution.
Whether the conclusions are accurate or flawed, mankind is perpetually adrift in pursuit of the truth. Enkrid was no exception. Naturally, he craved a resolution. He continued to tighten and relax his grip on the handle of Dawn Tempering.
“Kkikyo!”
Further ahead, Rem was swinging his axe with exuberant energy. That shout momentarily fractured Enkrid’s internal dialogue. Enkrid looked up and directed his attention toward the front.
A dire wolf is a creature capable of snapping a grown man in two. The head of one such beast, as massive as a cottage, was sent tumbling through the air. The warrior from the West had severed the wolf’s head with a clean, brutal stroke. His execution was so rapid and violent that the decapitated creature, unaware of its own demise, lunged with a paw at the space Rem had occupied a second before.
Crash! The earth fractured. Soil erupted, spraying outward like a burst of agony. Had the ground possessed nerves, that is how it would have registered the blow.
With a sharp kick, the wolf’s frame tilted and slammed down. The impact made the earth shudder. It was a massive heap of flesh. Dark gore sprayed everywhere like a localized storm, drenching the terrain.
Unnoticed by the group, the daylight had withered away, replaced by a suffocating, murky atmosphere. The firmament was choked with charcoal clouds, plunging the world into shadow. It was the sort of day where the presence of the noon sun felt like a distant myth.
Rem flashed a wide, jagged grin at the carcass he had produced.
“Send more, eh? Come on, keep them coming.”
He was lost in the ecstasy of the slaughter, a whirlwind of motion. But Rem wasn’t the only one in a frenzy. Pell, having waded into a swarm of human-faced curs, unsheathed his Idol Slayer, stepped onto the limb of a wolf attempting to corner him, and vaulted into the air. In a fluid transition, the dark metal bit down, cleaving through the wolf’s skull. The union of the blade’s edge and his physical might split the beast’s head in two.
The steel flickered like sentient lightning. It bit, divided, and retracted. Rebalancing mid-air, Pell struck one side of the cloven head with his foot and touched back down on the dirt.
One kill for every movement.
It was a performance typical of Pell, who delivered a lethal stroke—a guaranteed death—with every swing. It was a style that resonated perfectly with both the man and his weapon.
“The steel is darkening.”
Even as he observed, Enkrid continued to ponder. A solution remained elusive. Indeed, it felt like investigating a riddle that possessed no actual answer.
Why does the Divine show such cruelty to mankind? Why is this territory unable to shake the shadow of predators and the Demon-lands?
It was no different from screaming questions into the void and chasing the echoes. Should he simply remain stationary and dwell on it? No, there was no purpose in that. Enkrid cast aside the lingering gloom. He refused to obsess over complications that couldn’t be resolved in the moment. He moved past the urge to demand immediate clarity and simply let the thought go.
He would store the memory, but he wouldn’t let it anchor his spirit. Enkrid was capable of that discipline.
Whatever he was missing now—he could dedicate time to discovering it later.
Just as he always had.
“Dawn Tempering is a blade crafted by Aitri.”
It was also a vessel for his Will. An answer existed. The fact that it was obscured now didn’t signify a permanent failure.
“If the flaw lies in my aptitude—”
Then he would identify the gap and bridge it. As he had done time and time again.
Enkrid shifted his focus to the combat of his comrades. It was a stirring sight.
It was both impressive and educational, offering a sequence of moments to truly respect.
The heavens looked as if they were raining soot. Amidst that darkness, Ragna’s Sunrise carved a brilliant path across the dirt.
“It seems Odd-Eye’s momentum made quite an impact.”
Enkrid remarked, his eyes gleaming as he watched the display.
“He has abandoned his hesitation.”
The Dragonkin spoke as if savoring a fine performance.
“There’s no need to state the obvious, Dragonkin. I can perceive my fiancé’s heart as well.”
Shinar interjected from his side.
Enkrid allowed their banter to fade into the background and narrowed his focus. This was a scene that required total immersion.
Blink for a second, and you would lose track of him entirely.
Ragna glided between three massive lupine predators. It was a series of strikes entirely predicated on velocity.
The foundation was the Linking Sword of Oara, integrated with severing motions. He intensified the Will flowing through his frame and drove his heels into the dirt. Compressing his joints and then snapping them straight, he propelled himself forward like a projectile. He appeared nearly weightless, as if on the verge of taking flight.
He was, without a doubt, a prodigy.
He took an impression that had moved him and translated it perfectly into physical form. Substituting a cavalry charge with his own legs, he displayed a transcendent level of skill.
“More specifically, did he incorporate the rotational force of his hips?”
Into a strike delivered at full sprint, he had compressed the power of a galloping horse. Ragna was flaunting his innate ability. Sunrise traced a streak of orange, and anything intersecting that line shattered.
Naturally, he couldn’t maintain that velocity indefinitely like Odd-Eye. He only triggered that peak speed for a heartbeat.
“Impressive.”
Enkrid murmured in appreciation. More spectacles followed. This time the focus was on Audin. He, too, having observed Odd-Eye, had developed a fresh application of his strength.
They were the type of warriors who, when struck by inspiration, immediately manifested it in their combat and expressions. One didn’t need to read their minds to understand that. Even without being a Dragonkin, it wasn’t difficult to discern their motives and spirits. They were companions he had navigated many trials with.
One of those companions was in motion—Audin.
“Pivoting.”
Enkrid had derived the fundamentals of his Vortex technique from the tenets of Valaph-style combat.
Audin was aware of this. He whirled his frame like a spinning top, then launched himself laterally.
It was a method of concentrating centrifugal power and venting it in a single vector. It differed from Vortex, yet the underlying logic was the same.
While Ragna traced a line of velocity with Sunrise, Audin transformed his own body into the weapon. Truly, it wasn’t even like a blade anymore.
“Crude, but effective.”
Audin had become a sphere of iron.
Puh-bubum!
The air imploded and shredded along his trajectory. The iron mass tore directly through eight predators. Five were completely impaled; three were caught in the turbulent wake of Audin’s burst of speed and were torn to pieces.
Kkyeeeek. Kkae-gae-gaeng.
Beasts that stood taller than giants recoiled in sudden dread.
So—who is the real monster here?
Was that the message they intended to send?
Rem would not be outdone. He paused his axe-work and, processing what he had witnessed from Odd-Eye, filtered it through his own perspective.
The tribal warrior from the West unsheathed a secondary axe secured with leather and tendon cords. He didn’t utilize the long leaps favored by Ragna and Audin. He steadied his breathing, took a brief sprint, then channeled that momentum into a throw. A phantom image remained where he had moved. The strange part was how the movement was segmented, making the afterimages look like a fluid, unbroken chain.
It occurred within a mere five paces. Like a hallucination.
He anchored his left foot, wound his right arm back, and then released it like a spring. At the conclusion of the motion, his frame coiled forward as if every fiber had been wrung dry. In this manner, Rem launched the hand-axe from his grip.
Every muscle in his body expanded as if to the point of rupture, then snapped back. His internal energy surged in perfect harmony with the movement.
THUD—
The axe became a blurring disc that shattered the air. Before the sound even reached the onlookers, the edge had already buried itself in a wolf’s head.
Enkrid’s eyes shone. The sun, obscured by the storm clouds, seemed to have taken refuge in his pupils.
“He transferred the kinetic energy harvested from the ground into that hand-axe.”
Rem had thrown the weapon by twisting his entire muscular structure. He performed that explosive sequence while in motion. With that momentum, he could have leaped a great distance. Instead, Rem poured that potential into the axe. The results spoke for themselves.
“Hmph, a sling is still superior.”
Rem adjusted his stance and grumbled. If the goal was to hurl an object, one usually relied on centrifugal force. Throwing a hand-axe in such a fashion was a rare necessity.
To those three, this was mere recreation. Watching them, Enkrid felt his spirit catch fire once again.
“They are constantly challenging one another, driving each other forward.”
The Dragonkin observed.
“That is his most defining quality,” Lua Gharne added.
“I won’t disagree that he is a provocative man,” Shinar said, making sure Enkrid heard her. Rophod, Teresa, and even Dunbakel had waded into the fray. The engagement was entirely lopsided. It was less a battle and more a slaughter.
Prior to this journey, Dunbakel had been granted a weapon forged by dwarven hands. Her blade was a sweeping scimitar. It was longer than her previous one, with a distinct ripple pattern etched into the steel. The dwarf who delivered it was certain it would withstand almost any impact.
“Lately, a material known as Muhyeong Steel—essentially ‘Formless Steel’—arrived from Dempsan. In terms of sheer density, it rivals True Iron.”
One of its unique traits was that it required no special treatment to remain hidden; the blade naturally blended into the shadows, making it difficult to track.
The charcoal-colored steel possessed the ability to drink in light.
Dunbakel didn’t care for the technicalities; the fact that the weapon was unbreakable was all she needed to be happy.
“Excellent. I’m a fan.”
Along the path, hadn’t she repeatedly drawn the weapon, admiring the edge and showing how captivated she was by it?
She was naturally agile. Dunbakel, moving like a bolt of static, cut a jagged path through the field. That pace couldn’t rival the gallop of Odd-Eye, but it was exceptionally swift.
Even a trained soldier, if distracted for a moment, would lose track of her. Very few beasts could coordinate a defense against Dunbakel’s agility.
Sprinting, Dunbakel slashed, utilizing the flexibility of her entire body. A blade backed by her full weight traced a semi-circle. It was heavy with power and speed. The lethality was absolute.
SQUELCH!
In her wake, a human-faced beast was split from top to bottom, venting foul organs and dark fluids.
Spinning relentlessly, her steel continued its rampage, claiming a dozen more lives in rapid succession.
“Hahahaha! I am Saint Dunbakel!” she cried out in triumph.
“Have you finally lost your mind?” Rem joked.
The skirmish was brief, intense, and fierce. It was a day where the sun was hidden by a dirty sky. Only the scent of copper and dark blood filled the air.
With Odd-Eye missing from the line, the pack animals snorted and shifted with anxiety.
“It’s alright. It’s alright.”
In the absence of Odd-Eye, Shinar calmed the lead mount. She was of the fairy race. While she was conditioned not to betray her feelings, no people were more attuned to the emotions of others.
The skittishness of a horse was something fairies understood well. It was because of that very sensitivity that she had trained to suppress her own heart since she was a child.
“Shh, it’s fine. Nothing will reach you here.”
While she quieted the animals and they pressed on, similar packs emerged two more times.
“Quite a high frequency. Regardless, the lands of Viscount Harrison should be secure. Rem’s Assault Unit should be stationed there,” Rophod noted while cleaning a blade slick with dark blood. He murmured that he was glad he had packed several rags for maintenance. He took pleasure in analyzing troop movements and strategy; it was both his duty and his pastime.
By his estimation, Rem’s Assault Unit wouldn’t be toppled by a monster force like the one they just encountered. With bad luck, some might fall, but they weren’t the type to flee because of casualties.
“Actually, none of them would even be defeated.”
Within the established hierarchy of the Border Guard, there was no squad that would fall to creatures of this caliber. Rophod was the one who largely supervised the training of the standing forces.
In this assembly, few understood the readiness of the military as well as Rophod did.
“Are you suggesting we bypass the area?”
Perhaps it was the oppressive clouds, but a sense of dread hung over them. He felt it might be wiser to skip the visit to the viscounty and head straight for their destination.
If the viscounty were in even the slightest peril, they would have to intervene, of course.
“Rophod’s perspective is reliable.”
This was different from Ragna’s navigation. Ragna was perpetually distracted by the world around him. That was both his gift and his weakness.
“If you wish to be a knight, you must transform your flaws into assets.”
There was a reason he was known as a walking disaster.
Enkrid held Viscount Harrison in high regard. More than just a political partner, he admired the man’s conviction.
Thus, if he were under threat, Kraiss would interfere.
“The viscounty produces an excellent vintage.”
Kraiss had taken great pains to ensure his safety. All of that had resulted in the deployment of regular troops, and Rophod was speaking with that context in mind.
With the standing army protecting their rear, if a crisis occurred, Kraiss would handle it.
“If they were wiped out by this level of threat, all my training would have been a waste of time,” Rem said, his mouth twisting. If the members of his Assault Unit heard that, they would be furious, but looking at it objectively, Rem had poured an immense amount of effort into hardening his men.
If Audin was the master of building physical endurance, Rem was the master of forging mental fortitude.
Ragna and Jaxon, by contrast, were never suited for instructing large groups.
The company moved forward. Enkrid had Shinar seated in front of him. Even after forty-eight hours, Odd-Eye had not reappeared.
Instead, waves of monsters continued to harass them. The charcoal-clouded sky persisted into the second day, and eventually, the rain began.
Despite it being the middle of the day, the sky was black. Initially, it was a light mist, but it grew into a heavy downpour. The rain continued for a long time. The travelers pulled on their waterproof hoods and gear.
The path to the South felt alien. It was saturated with a dark, unsettling, and mournful energy.
Not that it meant Enkrid’s group was bothered by the bad omen.
“What do you think, fiancé? It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”
Next to him, Shinar, showing more excitement than a typical fairy, spoke with glowing eyes. The cloak she had received from the city of Kirheis repelled the rain effortlessly.
“Indeed it is.”
Enkrid agreed, and the Dragonkin spoke up once more.
“That fairy, as one might expect, is claiming she is his only true partner.”
At this stage, Lua Gharne could only assume that this Dragonkin simply took pleasure in reading people’s private thoughts and announcing them to the group.
Rem chuckled. Ragna let out a soft snort.
Every cloak worn by the Mad Order of Knights was a product of the fairy city. More than half the knights wore garments that ignored the rain, moving as if they were entirely unaffected by the surrounding gloom and ill portents.