'Slender jawline?'
For some reason, today's ferryman seemed to have lost some weight, his features appearing thinner than before, but he was not one to answer if he pointed out what he saw.
So, he kept his mouth shut. Thanks to that, neither of them spoke, and only silence covered the river.
With no words, they just looked at each other with the fog in between.
Enkrid indifferently took in the sight of the robed figure beyond the thin black fog. The ferryman was also silent.
There was no vibration in the air, no preliminary motion whatsoever.
And though Enkrid didn't even blink, he knew the ferryman was right in front of him.
There was no way not to be surprised. Still, it wasn't something to jump up and scream about.
Enkrid was calm even within his mental world. It was a boldness that had become familiar, like a habit.
The ferryman extended his hand without a word. A palm, cracked like a drought-stricken land, came into view.
Something seemed to be squirming in the black crevices between the palm lines, and the moment he focused on that squirming black line, Enkrid was standing not on a ferryboat on a black river, but somewhere else.
'An illusion.'
Without needing to think long, he simply recognized it immediately.
It's not easy to deduce the ferryman's intentions. It was true even though he had faced him countless times and he was a companion in the endlessly repeating today. The illusion the ferryman showed came into view.
"Ugh."
He couldn't see what the ground or the weather was like. He could only see a blurry figure through the black soot, but it wasn't difficult to recognize who it was.
'Ragna.'
Ragna spat up blood, wiped his mouth, raised his head, and spoke.
"You said you don't shy away from any fight, so don't shy away from this one either."
Who was he talking to?
Behind the blurry figure, what seemed to be a fallen person was barely visible.
He couldn't tell who it was just by the shadow. Ragna's form scattered like smoke and disappeared. It seemed as if he could reach out and touch him, as he was right in front, but there was a strangely profound sense of distance.
It felt like watching and listening from a great distance. Immediately after Ragna disappeared, a figure rose from within the soot.
"...I admit it, I could have fixed everything. I won."
"You idiot, if you're dead, you've lost."
"I am the Elixir, the Panax, and the Remedium Omnia."
What is this nonsense?
It was a series of words difficult to understand. Enkrid disregarded the words he didn't know and just grasped the situation.
Anne had been defeated by someone and was speaking right before her death.
'Who is she talking to?'
He couldn't see the other person. The voice was also unclear. He couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman.
"If you're dead, you've lost. You're nothing."
Anne coughed and then disappeared like smoke.
The smoke gathered again, and this time, a person he had never seen before appeared. A middle-aged man. He had thick eyebrows, hollow cheeks, and a sturdy build.
He couldn't read his aura since only his appearance was visible, but there were things he could figure out just by looking.
Hollow cheeks and no excess fat meant that even at his age, he continued to train or otherwise manage his body.
'Somehow, he reminds me of Graham.'
There was a lord at the Border Guard who had reached the level of a junior knight by not letting go of his sword even in his old age.
He had become a model of human victory and an example to all the soldiers.
"It's never too late. There is only me who has not yet done it."
It was a phrase Graham lived by.
He was also one who had interpreted and digested Enkrid's words in his own way.
The fact that Graham intuitively came to mind was likely because the opponent was similar to him. Enkrid was a knight and had separately trained his sensory arts, so his intuition was close to a high-probability prediction.
The man he was seeing for the first time opened his mouth with a stiff expression.
"Are you saying this is all my fault?"
Another wisp of smoke rose and drew a different form. It was Ragna. His chest was stiff with dried blood, and a beard of blood scabs had formed on his clean-shaven chin. Ragna asked, holding his sword.
"Isn't it?"
The man might have actually paused before speaking, but to Enkrid, the answer came after a short silence.
"...This is the best I could do."
"Nonsense."
Conversely, Ragna answered without even taking a breath.
The smoke faded and disappeared, and suddenly he was on the boat's edge again. The ferryman who had been in front of him was in his original place, holding the lamp with his back turned.
"Why are you showing me this?"
Enkrid asked. The ferryman turned his head back. The face visible through the robe was as black as when he had first faced this today. He couldn't see eyes or anything else.
Then, a line containing meaning, not a voice, flew and touched his forehead. This was closer to a transmission of meaning than words, but Enkrid recognized the meaning by converting it into words.
"You can remember this too, right? Don't forget."
And he woke up. He was in a dim darkness. A reality with a completely different texture and color from a moment ago.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
Hearing a voice, he tucked his chin to look down and saw Magrun standing right in front of the tent. It was early evening. Behind Magrun's back, the deep blue sky of twilight's end was visible. His shadow, a faint black, was cast on the ground, reaching Enkrid's feet.
"Not a nightmare."
Enkrid answered and got up, with the thought that the ferryman's intentions were still difficult to read.
The words that he was different from the walking fire were clearly advice.
What he did before was a hindrance.
It was called advice, but had he ever said what he wanted to hear?
Ah, should he be called an excellent advisor, given that advice is often not what the listener wants to hear?
It was just a joke. A joke he couldn't tell anyone.
Well, setting jokes aside, what was this time?
All he did was show a few people and let him hear a few lines of dialogue. The ferryman himself didn't say a single word. The last thing he said also seemed different from his usual way of conveying meaning.
"Nothing happened, right?"
"So far."
Enkrid asked and Magrun answered.
The attack would not end with just one. Magrun had judged so too. In fact, everyone had a similar thought. Enkrid thought the same.
"You look like you've just come from meeting a 'thoughtful scholar'."
Magrun said, watching Enkrid's expression change as he woke up.
"What?"
"It's a famous joke in the Empire."
"What joke?"
While Enkrid moved to loosen his body, stiff from sleep, Magrun squatted in front of the tent, propped his chin on his hand, and spoke.
He had brought it up himself but seemed to be thinking, 'Where do I even begin to explain this?' No, he seemed to be questioning if it was right to explain such a thing, so he paused for a moment.
Magrun cast his worries aside and continued. The listener could just listen as they pleased.
"Well, you know, just some trivial talk. It sounds pretty lame when I explain it, but scholars are people who claim to be wise and don't care about the listener's feelings in their self-importance. Among them, a thoughtful scholar first softens the mood with a joke to lower the other person's guard, and then says what he wants to say, complicating the other person's mind—it's just a joke like that. 'Thoughtful' refers to softening the mood, but in the end, the topic or story he brings up is something only they can understand among themselves. Explaining it makes it sound really weird."
"Yeah, it's weird."
"I mean, the kids in the Empire get it right away. It's not my fault."
"I never said it was your fault."
Enkrid said and went outside. On one side, Ragna was staring blankly at the sky, and Odinkar was standing by a horse, stroking its mane for no reason.
Anne was right next to Ragna, and Grida was gauging the path by looking at the stars in the sky.
"It's not going to rain."
Grida, who had sensed his presence, said. Enkrid glanced at the sky, nodded in agreement, and then looked at Anne and spoke.
"Anne. Did you get some sleep?"
"No."
Enkrid didn't ask why. She had been doused in a beast's blood in the evening, stayed up all night, and then was told that there were monsters and beasts targeting her.
There probably weren't many people who could sleep soundly in such a situation, aside from the Madmen Knights Order.
"Try to get some sleep at night. I don't think we'll be slowing down the march."
"Yes."
It wouldn't be easy, but Anne wasn't foolish enough to complain in a situation like this.
"Let's rest one more day."
What Grida said was that it was better to spend one more day here than to set off at night. They had stayed here with that in mind in the first place.
Grida started a campfire, and Enkrid took out the preserved food they had brought. He put water in a pot, and for dinner, they boiled a stew with jerky and vegetables.
He then took out a few pieces of pemmican and chewed them thoroughly before swallowing. Krais was said to have improved the taste, but it was still closer to food you eat to survive.
To this, he added something specially called a Knight's Meal.
It was food made by drying and powdering meat, fish, and fruits, and when mixed with a moderate amount of water, it became a meal with several times the calories of pemmican.
Taste? It was combat food, not made with that in mind.
If a fight wasn't scheduled, they would have at least hunted to have a better quality meal, but for now, they had no choice.
A soldier fights better when properly fed. This was no different for a knight.
Thinking as he ate, Enkrid saw that he had a few more options in this situation.
The easiest and first option was to return to the city.
'We haven't come that far.'
They came on horseback, so they could go back on horseback.
The second option was to send Anne back and continue on.
'If they're targeting Anne, the Border Guard would be safer.'
Esther is in the city. With her there, a clumsy mage would be useless.
There were other unit members too.
'But I don't think Anne would want this.'
The third was to bring more allies. It would delay them, but it would be safe.
If Jaxen had been there last night, they wouldn't have gotten away so quietly. In terms of detection and search abilities, there weren't many beings who could escape Jaxen's eyes.
The fourth was to go on as they were, pushing through with what they currently had.
It seemed unlikely he would choose the first three methods. All three were actions that clearly caused delays.
In fact, all of this arose from not being able to grasp the enemy's intentions.
Since he seemed to know one of those intentions, he would rule out the first three methods.
Delaying here was also to read the enemy's intentions; in fact, this was a larger reason than the concept of resting.
'If they were really targeting Anne, they would have come again with determination.'
But the enemy didn't. They left them alone. In other words, what the enemy might want is to tie the party's feet.
Should they increase their marching speed even more?
'That would be difficult.'
He thought, scratching his chin for no reason.
Even if Ragna carried Anne on his back, it would be difficult. Anne is not a knight. She wouldn't be fine even if she were carried on someone's back.
Ragna couldn't run all day either.
The basis of a march is not to walk at the fastest speed, but to walk quickly while maintaining combat power and eliminating disadvantageous factors.
Ragna carries Anne. Or he carries her and runs. To preserve combat power, they couldn't just charge ahead with Strong Leg, pouring out all their strength.
If they did that, their stamina wouldn't last.
The problem remained even if Anne, on his back, could endure it.
"Is this type of fight a headache?"
Then, Ragna asked from beside him.
Enkrid answered reflexively, as he always did. That is, he spat out his usual thoughts as they were. He didn't bother to organize them.
It was the Madmen Knights Order's way of conversation, and he had long maintained this conversational style with Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxen, and Krais.
Because he spoke as he was, without hiding anything, they hadn't shown unnecessary hostility towards Enkrid from the beginning.
It was a statement led by that habit.
"I don't shy away from any fight."
As soon as he said those words, Enkrid, who had been looking at the campfire, flinched and felt a short thrill. He slowly raised his head and looked into the darkness. The reason for the thrill was the dream the ferryman had shown him.
"I'm not one to shy away either."
Ragna chimed in. It sounded sincere.
And Enkrid.
'The future?'
He suspected that what the ferryman had shown him might not have been yesterday or today, but a preview of tomorrow.
If not that, then it was a glimpse of the 'today' he would be trapped in.
Just like he had done before. The ferryman had sometimes shown him fragmented pieces of events that would happen, like a dream.
Of course, not everything happened exactly as shown, but roughly similar things did.
This time, he had just shown that fragmented future without any particular words.
What was the intention?
He couldn't know. Enkrid knew that at times like this, he shouldn't think too complicatedly.
Then what should he do? The first thing to do is to sort out what he can do and start with the easiest among them.
Within a manageable range, what can he do now?
Odinkar came into Enkrid's sight. Tension and impatience were visible on his face.
Even while eating, he repeatedly showed a sense of discomfort.
Following the fourth option, a fifth option had just come to mind.
'Split the party.'
Odinkar was a skilled fighter whom even he couldn't guarantee an easy victory against if they fought to the death, he knew the way back to Zaun, and his intuition was telling him to go back.
"Let's send Odinkar ahead."
At the end of his thought process, Enkrid spoke. Grida and Magrun looked at Enkrid.
"Can't we?"
When he asked again, the two looked at each other. And Odinkar, who had been staring blankly, had a light enter his eyes, clapped his hands together, and said.
"Yes, there was that method. You always liked to use an unexpected move. Yes, I'll go first."