Chapter 935 - Honey!
'Is this the moment the dream warned of?'
Enkrid finally grasped the meaning behind the Ferryman's nightmare.
It had been plaguing him for three straight days.
He couldn't just sit there lamenting, It's a nightmare, it's torment, I can't choose, and leave it at that.
'The moment of choice.'
That was the message the Ferryman was conveying through the dreams.
Whether that was his true intention remained unknown, but Enkrid sensed a twisted kind of consideration within the nightmare.
If he met the Ferryman in a dream and asked if he was trying to be considerate, the entity would probably rip his oar from the river and swing it at his head.
'Regardless, that time is not now.'
There was no reason to feel the agonizing helplessness he had felt on that bridge.
As he dashed forward, three giants moved to block his path in an encircling formation.
Two spread out to the flanks while one stepped back, naturally funneling him into their center.
'They've learned tactics.'
Formations aren't built overnight.
They require rigorous training and are only perfected in the crucible of actual combat.
The coordinated movement these three giants just displayed was proof enough that they had honed their skills in both.
'Influence from the South.'
Enkrid stepped willingly into the formless net the giants had cast.
He could have easily dodged it, having noticed the trap, but he chose not to.
'Here, I break through with force.'
In terms of tactical judgment, Enkrid had been tutored by Luagarne—a combat scholar even among the Frogs—and possessed an intuition sharpened by dying and returning to life hundreds of times.
In other words, he was an anomaly whose capabilities couldn't be compared even to seasoned knights.
He analyzed the correlation between his own arsenal and the opponents' aims to calculate the optimal path.
Swallowing his breath, Enkrid stepped into the World of Silence.
Two massive, angular iron maces plummeted from the left and right, while the giant in the center thrust a spear.
Their weapons were gargantuan, perfectly proportioned to their massive arms and bodies—custom-forged to match their immense strength and reach.
Enkrid swung his sword three times without moving from his spot, executing three entirely different techniques simultaneously.
It was his first time properly utilizing Induless in actual combat.
Coupling that with the release of the pressure that had been building up from days of nightmares...
Clang. Swish. Whoosh.
Three distinct sounds rang out.
Against the strike from the left, he cloaked his sword in a heavy Will and parried; the iron mace snapped upward, its broken half burying itself into its owner's skull.
Toward the right, he swung with razor-sharp speed.
The blade named Night Stroll cleaved clean through the second mace, lightly tapped the giant's Adam's apple, and returned to its master.
Finally, he pulled Night Stroll back to intercept the central giant's spearhead.
Naturally, his Will shifted, becoming as soft as a bundle of fleece, embracing the spear's force and seamlessly deflecting it to the side.
'Let the Will move naturally, exactly as desired.'
That was the core of Induless.
The transformations of his Will danced effortlessly across the boundary between conscious and unconscious thought.
As two giants collapsed, Enkrid chained his momentum into a fourth strike.
'Oara's Connecting Sword.'
With Induless—the fluid mastery of Will—he could instantly draw out any swordsmanship he had refined through endless training.
Furthermore, he maintained a speed vastly superior to his opponents, just as he had when fighting that blonde genius swordsman.
In the time it took the three giants to execute a single motion, Enkrid had swung his sword four times.
His final blade, executing a reverse vertical slash from bottom to top, split the third giant's head in two.
Enkrid simply kept walking forward, cleanly stepping out of the formless net the giants had woven.
Blood poured like a waterfall in his wake.
The giant on the left died kneeling, half of his skull caved in.
The one on the right clutched his throat with one hand, letting out a wet, gurgling groan before collapsing with a heavy thud.He was a bastard two full heads taller than Enkrid—a height where his throat was out of reach of a fist, though easily reachable by a sword.
Now, that lofty head lay sprawled in the dirt.
The final giant fell backward, overwhelmed by the sheer kinetic force loaded into the upward slash.
'Aetri, what on earth did you forge?'
Enkrid felt a mix of astonishment and amusement.
When he had pulled the sword back after tapping the second giant's throat and launched his next strike, the devastating power of Night Stroll was deeply etched into his hands.
'This cutting power...'
It was incomparable to any blade he had ever wielded.
And it wasn't just absurdly sharp.
When he loaded his weight into it, it felt as if the sword itself was aligning with its center of gravity to amplify his force.
However, completely separate from the movements of his Will, the sword seemed to be showing off excessively.
I am a magnificent blade.
Come, swing me.
Pierce and cut to your heart's content.
It was as if the sword was whispering to him, burning with an eagerness to flaunt its capabilities.
I am a weapon, born to slaughter.
Feed me blood.
It was a blade entirely deserving of the title "Demon Sword" or "Cursed Sword."
Naturally, Enkrid remained completely unaffected by whatever sinister influence the sword tried to exude.
If a man could casually wear armor crafted from Beelrog's hide, he could easily laugh off most mental attacks.
Thus, his impression of the sword passed as nothing more than a fleeting thought.
Had a weak-willed person grabbed it, the sword's wicked charm would have easily twisted them into a blood-crazed berserker.
But Aetri had handed it over without a shred of worry, and his faith was rewarded.
Enkrid was utterly unfazed.
Rather, the brief clash had blown his chest wide open, filling him with a duet of liberation and euphoria that pounded against his heart.
'Just as I want, however I want.'
When he made up his mind, his Will moved.
He had felt it during spars, but this was truly...
'Fun.'
It had been the same ever since he first began repeating 'today'.
'It's so much fun.'
Enkrid never grew sick of this feeling.
The mental sludge that had built up from the Ferryman's nightmares vanished in an instant.
Breaking past the three giants, he saw eight more armed with iron maces, spears, and axes.
'That's quite a few.'
There were still so many opponents left to converse with using his blade.
To the giants, the man before them was practically a monster.
A gust of wind blew, making Enkrid's cape flutter—just enough to reveal the emblem embroidered on it.
"That's the one," a sharp-eyed giant spotted the Order's emblem.
"The Madman," the bastard muttered in realization.
Enkrid finished his calculations, lightly tapping Night Stroll against his palm.
'There is no threat.'
None of them were knight-class giants.
Only two were at the level of mimicking one; that was all.
If they had been ordinary mercenaries, it might have been a tricky situation, but not for him.
If they scattered and fled, that would be one thing.
But if they charged aiming for the caravan, he was entirely confident he wouldn't let a single one slip past him.
'This is not the moment of choice.'
As expected.
A situation of this caliber couldn't force a dilemma upon him.
Thinking back on the past, so much had changed to bring him to this point.
Enkrid grasped the intent of the group stepping forward without even having to think deeply about it.
Ayul's letter had mentioned that giant bastards were causing trouble between Naurilia and the West, aiming for the cities.
'An ambush.'
The bastards had anticipated the caravan's arrival on this road and made their move.
It wasn't exactly a grand strategic masterstroke.
They were just poking around the West, saw a paved road, and decided to set up a trap.
They were good at fighting, but they lacked the capacity to paint a big picture. That was his conclusion. Still, it was surprising. A group of giants possessing this level of tactical ability?
Guessing their identity was easy.
They had already received the intel on their way here.
'The South.'
How many giants would recognize the emblem on his cape?
These bastards had come from the South.
Moreover, they didn't retreat even after seeing it.
Their momentum was unusual.
Whether it was the one covering his chest with an axe or the one raising his aura with bloodshot eyes, their resolve showed no intention of stepping back.
"Let's fight," one giant said.
The others nodded in grim agreement.
Just before they left, Krais had mentioned that the giant groups emerging from the South seemed to be aiming for something, taking advantage of the chaotic times.
"What is that 'something'?"
"How should I know?"
It was natural not to know, but Krais's response had been inexplicably annoying.
"Shall we spar?"
"...With me? That just sounds like you want to beat me up."
When Enkrid tried to check Krais's skills after a long time, Abneier, who was listening nearby, had interjected.
"It would be a foolish endeavor."
Abneier's subsequent explanation had been perfectly reasoned.
"Giants are not a species known for using their heads much. It's not that there aren't exceptional ones among them, but if they were in the army, they must have enlisted expecting some reward. What they are doing now is desertion. A bastard with half a brain wouldn't do this. Therefore, my guess is that they are stragglers who decided to make one big score and flee."
Being massive doesn't automatically mean being stupid.
Even among giants, there were many insidious and cunning tribes.
'Since my mercenary days, I've been caught off guard more than once by judging only their exterior.'
Enkrid had thought that, but looking at them now, Abneier's perspective seemed dead on.
"If we coordinate, we can kill him."
"Then all those wagons are ours."
"Kill all the humans! This road is ours!"
The giants exchanged fierce roars.
They intended to slaughter everyone without leaving a single survivor. Their intentions were utterly transparent. When you step onto a battlefield, you must be as prepared to die as you are to kill. It was a philosophy formed over a lifetime of making a living by the sword. The giant group must have charged taking everything into account. Enkrid rewarded their resolve.
He responded to the giant—whose body displayed the innate trick of turning skin as hard as steel—with a sword strike that cut through steel itself.
Clang.
As the neck was severed, the texture in his hands felt like cutting iron, and the sound was identical. The decapitated giant sprayed crimson blood in all directions. A few drops splattered onto Enkrid's cape. He shifted to the side and swung his sword again. It wasn't a bland fight, but it was entirely one-sided.
Watching from the sidelines, Leona couldn't even process what was happening. All she knew was that with the people currently protecting her caravan, they were the safest group on the continent. There was a reason she had timed the caravan's departure to coincide with Enkrid's movement.
'Their movements are strange.'
The giant groups that had advanced into the West were a massive headache even from the merchant guild's perspective.
The obsidian produced here was a specialty product connected directly to the Trade City. If the trade route were cut off here, it would have been catastrophic. Hearing that Enkrid was heading West amidst this, joining forces was a given. Even if they hadn't explicitly brought it up while chatting, it was an unspoken agreement between Leona and Enkrid.
Whatever the case, Enkrid showed no mercy with his sword. He cut, thrust, and killed.
"Why are you so damn strong?" one giant muttered as he died.
Even with an arm cut off, they attacked; if a leg was severed, they threw their weapon and reached out with their bare hands. It was a fighting spirit perfectly suited to the phrase, 'Monsters with red blood.' When it was time to fight, they threw away their reason, got drunk on frenzy, and charged. Even as Enkrid moved so fast he only left afterimages, they somehow managed to reach out for him. Their desire to fight was like a stubbornly clinging tick.
Like that, with a few effortless strokes of his sword, he turned the giant bandit group into a dead bandit group.
"Is it over?"
Rem approached, covered head to toe in gore. Coagulated blood dripped from the axe blade held in his right hand. The weapon looked as if it were shedding tears of blood after drinking its fill.
"You fought while leaving me out again," Dunbakel complained as she joined them.
She had taken down two giants herself.
The total number of the giant bandit group was a little over thirty. Since the giants had been concentrated on Rem's side, their plan must have been to threaten from the front and massacre everyone from behind in one fell swoop.
'Someone else shoved those tactical movements into their heads.'
In reality, they were a group devoid of strategic thought. If they had been bastards capable of using their heads in the first place, they wouldn't have left the embrace of the South and drifted all the way out here.
"Saw traces of shamanism here and there, too. What kind of bastards are they, really," Rem grumbled, his smirk completely gone. He was thoroughly displeased that things like this kept popping up in his homeland.
"Are you going to track them?"
"Tracking them just by looking at traces would take more nights than I care to spend."
His tone was dismissive.
It was a natural attitude.
Would Ayul have called Rem just because a few giant bastards popped up?
Enkrid didn't think so, either.
Even without a Knight Order stationed there, the West possessed quite a few people with formidable martial prowess.
Ayul, Geomnarae, the Twins, Juol, and many warriors who fought riding Vellopters.
'A group of this size isn't a threat.'
Just an annoyance.
"Let's go," Rem said.
The giant attack had interrupted Enkrid's dream midway. Perhaps thanks to that, he didn't have a nightmare that night. Instead, he dreamed of Night Stroll taking human form and walking alongside him.
"I fight well, don't I?" the sword practically boasted about itself. She had long black hair and pitch-black eyes; overall, her appearance strongly resembled Esther.
"Yeah," Enkrid gently patted the sword that had taken the form of a woman.
Then, Dawn approached from the side.
This one possessed pale blue hair and golden eyes.
"Just because dawn has broken doesn't mean you don't need me anymore."
Dawn was physically broken, but Enkrid asked himself if it was truly gone.
'Is it?'
Dreams are manifestations of the unconscious.
If reality is light, then dreams are shadows.
The shadow dwelled within the dawn and whispered. "I am still here."
The dream ended there.
It was a dream neither long nor short, but upon waking, only a fleeting afterimage remained. Opening his eyes, Enkrid saw fluttering snowflakes drifting down from the dark sky. He thought he had heard that snow was rare in the West. Yet, the chill of winter exerted its influence generously even here.
Looking at the sky, the dream, and the falling snow, Enkrid organized his thoughts.
"Organizing your philosophy and thoughts is just as important as training your body."
Luagarne had told him that once. Enkrid chewed on those words and digested them.
'Is forging an Inscribed Weapon the end of it?'
No.
That was the answer his intuition provided.
'Then?'
Dawn, the first Inscribed Weapon he had wielded, was broken.
Was that the end of it?
'It remained inside me.'
The experiences and traces that blade gave him remained vividly etched into his soul.
Making an Inscribed Weapon isn't the end.
The person wielding it must fully accept that weapon. That is why the weapon must eventually resemble its master. Why is it called an 'Inscription'? Because once forged, it creates an absolute, unbreakable bond.
'Ah.'
A brief realization struck him.
The Night Stroll he currently wielded might become a close friend, but it would never reach the level of an Inscription.
The sword was similar to him, yet fundamentally different.
It was a blade upon which he could not engrave his own soul.
He finally understood in his heart why Aetri was tirelessly hammering away at a new sword.
Dawn opens the morning.
Noon and Sunset pass through the day.
The flow that rides over the Night completes Today.
That was Aetri's intention.
It was filled with the blacksmith's desperate hope that, no matter what happened, Enkrid's days greeting the dawn would continue.
While he was lost in thought, the caravan arrived at a Western village.
Because the merchant guild had been frequenting the area lately, it was rare for a massive crowd to rush out to meet them anymore. Only the few people who had actual business came out.
In the midst of that quiet reception, someone came sprinting toward them.
By Enkrid's standards, it was just a little kid.
Maybe ten years old?
"Honey!" the little girl shouted.
"Hmm?"
Leona tilted her head in sheer confusion.
The little girl dove straight into Enkrid's embrace.
***
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