Chapter 177 - I Don't Really Know, Either
"What was that friend's conduct usually like?"
To understand a person, it's best to ask around in various places. Krais did just that.
First up was Deutsch Pullman.
"He was amiable. Acted like the tongue in your mouth, and he was meticulous. He never started anything unless he was certain."
A promising talent, that's what he had thought before he became a cultist. Thanks to getting along well with everyone, he had no enemies. He was on good terms with all, and his greatest strength was cited as his meticulousness.
"He was sinister. Both in his actions and the methods he used."
This was Luagarne's opinion.
'Sinister, and a prudence that prevents him from moving without certainty.'
Whether gambling, betting, or doing anything else, he was the type not to act unless he was sure, she said.
"He was good at whatever he did, but hmm, he was the type to prepare for a long time. It seemed the Captain was quite pleased with that."
"His position in the battle formation? Was it the very back? Ah, it was the very back. Every time."
"Come to think of it, that's right."
Afterward, he took the opinions of the Vigilante Corps comrades and formed an image in his mind.
In Krais's head, the man was like a petty goat. He had also roughly figured out his habits.
'In terms of personality, is he like Jaxen?'
Jaxen also gets things done when he has to, but looking at his personality alone, he's thoroughly prepared and considers many different things.
They were similar. Of course, the opponent was more foolish than that. Much more.
Krais created a script. A script to draw out the sinister and timid man.
To be precise, it was a scenario that placed elements to make him let his guard down.
"How about you cough up some blood? You can use this."
It was a pouch made from a small, cut-up pig's bladder. It had goat's blood inside, so the smell was foul, but he wasn't holding it in his mouth, just letting it spill.
"It would be good if you were a little injured. Since you're a Frog, a small injury should be fine, right?"
"Let's."
Luagarne was all for it. She had come with her arm already severed.
"This would be more effective. But are you alright with one arm missing?"
"I'm right-handed."
Is that an answer?
Perhaps.
In any case, the opponent would see the severed arm, be convinced of his victory, and feel relieved.
Even with this, the morale of their allies did not break. This was thanks to Enkrid.
That something he had shown amidst the horde of monsters and beasts that day.
It had been truly impressive. To the point that Krais himself had let out a shout.
The plan had been formulated considering all of that.
'At this rate.'
It seemed like a good idea to push the opponent's thoughts in one direction. It could even be called conditioning.
'He doesn't seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed.'
People have things called habits.
Hiding in the back is a habit, a custom. Could he throw that away in an instant?
'Fat chance.'
Pinpointing the enemy's location was an incredibly easy task for Krais.
Afterward, by placing Esther next to Enkrid, he had planted a preconceived notion in the opponent's head.
That where the panther was, there was Enkrid.
And so, at dawn, before the opponent could notice, he sent Enkrid and Luagarne out.
"Finn, try this on."
After making Finn wear some extra clothes, he placed her on top of the rampart in a place that could be called a gallery, and put Esther next to her.
It was when the horde of monsters and beasts, anticipating victory, charged. To Krais, the location where the man was hiding was obvious.
A place where he could remain hidden while watching his enemy.
He was probably wearing a monster hide or something behind them.
Read the opponent's inner thoughts, and use that to set a trap. It was a simple and easy task.
At least for Krais, it was.
"That big-eyed friend, he's quite useful. His face wasn't everything."
Luagarne said. Enkrid's chin moved up and down slightly. He agreed.
At the place the big-eyed man, Krais, had mentioned, they had ambushed and found a man wearing something like a hyena hide. It was the right answer.
Enkrid wiped off the makeup made from charcoal mixed with water.
He also brushed off the stone powder-like substance that had been sprinkled on his face.
Gray, dust-like stone powder scattered from his hand. It had been dry and quite uncomfortable.
"You bastards, you tricked me!"
Ah, what a cliché reaction.
At times like this, there was something Enkrid always wanted to say. His mouth itched.
"It's the fool who gets tricked."
The world had become so harsh and cunning that there were no longer any people who gave such cliché reactions these days.
It was a textbook conversation he had experienced for the first time in a long while. He was quite proud of that.
"You things!"
The Cultist became angry, and his eyes turned red.
A few of the nearby Gnolls reacted to the Cultist's shout and charged.
Gu-eok!
The Cultist's brainwashing and bewitchment spells shake the minds of the monsters. The pack of Gnolls was fearless.
If they had seen themselves being sliced up by Enkrid's sword until now, they should have scattered and run away long ago, but they charged without fear.
But there was no need for Enkrid to step up.
Whoosh, POW! POW! THWACK!
Luagarne's whip moved. The lump of iron at the end of the whip struck and burst the Gnolls' heads.
One of them held up a thick wooden shield and blocked.
With a pow, a part of the shield exploded, but the whip had been blocked.
It was a mutant Gnoll. The creature behind the shield bared its fangs.
As three or four of those mutant Gnolls approached the Cultist and tried to block the way, Luagarne puffed up her cheeks.
"Did you think I would miss twice?"
"You frog who does not value its heart! You, did you not know that I was not prepared then?"
He was a long-winded one.
With that thought, Enkrid's hand moved.
Flick.
A flash of light. Something like that flew.
It wasn't a Whistle Dagger. So it was much slower than that, but it was a knife thrown based on the Heart of the Beast. It was fast.
The thrown knife looked as if it would pierce the Cultist's brow.
Just before it did.
Thwack!
A mutant Gnoll extended its left arm and blocked it. The knife stuck in the mutant Gnoll's thick hide.
The mutant Gnoll, without a change in expression, pulled the knife embedded in its arm with its other hand and threw it aside.
Black blood flowed freely, but it just frowned once and continued to glare at Enkrid.
'Reaction speed.'
Not bad. No, it was excellent.
The Gnoll's yellow eyes looked at Enkrid, and Enkrid looked back.
The Cultist was timid, but he was no fool.
He knew that continuing to control the monsters like this was a stupid act. Why waste the mana?
There was an easier way. It was to create a leader for the colony.
If the previous leader had been a man who rampaged with two poisoned daggers, this time it was the largest of the mutant Gnolls.
And when he added a spell to it.
It looked as if a black haze was rising from the shoulders of the newly-appointed leader Gnoll.
"It's a cultist's trick."
Luagarne said. It sounded roughly like a warning to be careful.
Enkrid drew his sword. One, instead of two.
He held it with both hands, raised it in front of him, and faced the enemy.
He included the black haze and the Cultist behind it in his field of vision.
'How is it.'
At some point, Enkrid had started using Rem as the standard for an opponent's martial strength.
'Is he like Rem?'
Or.
'Tougher than Rem?'
Or even.
'Which is better, facing Rem or this now?'
To state only the conclusion.
'Not even close.'
To compare him to Rem was almost an apology to that brutish barbarian.
So.
"The rear."
After speaking, he charged.
The Cultist was confident. He believed in his summoning magic.
He had believed even when the leader Gnoll charged. No matter how skilled the opponent was, the new leader was a variable he had created, thinking of unexpected forces.
So the one standing over there now was also such a variable.
An unexpected force.
And so, variable met variable.
And in the meantime, the Frog was charging at him.
The Cultist wanted to use a strategy that would surely win.
He had also judged that the man who had just drawn his sword was far more dangerous than the one-armed Frog.
'Give the flesh.'
To take the bone.
The Cultist did so.
From the tips of his right fingers, something like a black mass fell.
It was blacker and deeper than a shadow. Just looking at it felt ominous.
"Warrior's Arm."
As the Cultist muttered, the mass immediately took form.
It was a strange shape. Its two legs were thin, and it was a human form with only one arm, but it had no head.
Only its right arm was thick, and in that hand, it held something like a blunt sword.
In that time, Luagarne had strode closer and swung her whip. The whip flew with a whoosh and looked as if it would crush the Cultist's head.
"Block!"
The Cultist shouted, his eyes bloodshot.
Thwack!
A mutant Gnoll blocked the whip with its body.
Luagarne swung her wrist. The whip bent with a snap.
Passing the dead Gnoll, it once again aimed for the Cultist's head.
The whip was like a living snake. As he barely twisted his body, the whip wrapped around his left arm and crunch—it broke the bone.
Damn frog!
Instead of screaming, the Cultist bit his tongue. With a squelch, thick blood flowed from the corners of his mouth.
In exchange for blood.
As the Cultist muttered inwardly, the left arm caught by the whip fell off and melted into a black substance.
"Hound of Huarin!"
The Cultist shouted.
The black water that had been his left arm soon transformed into a four-legged black beast larger than a decent-sized dog.
The Cultist felt his insides twisting from summoning two beings in succession. His stomach churned, and his vision swam.
On top of that, blood was pouring out from having given up his left arm.
'Fuck.'
He was on the verge of dying if he made a mistake.
The Cultist, swallowing the blood that had pooled in his mouth, barely managed to regain his senses.
And at the sight before him, he let out a short laugh.
The Frog was fighting the hound he had summoned.
And on the opposite side, the Warrior's Arm was just a step away from the half-assed Junior Knight who was using a strange technique to fight the Gnoll.
'I've won.'
The Cultist was confident of his victory.
Luagarne, dealing with the hound he had summoned, wrapped her whip around her wrist once.
The shorter her whip, the stronger its power.
The opponent had been hiding his skills. The summon the man was using was considerably more troublesome than she had expected.
Its feet were fast, and its fangs were sharp. For a thing with no eyeballs, it was also good at dodging.
It wasn't an opponent that could be finished with a single blow.
She had also seen him summon two beings at the same time.
It meant he was a cultist priest of a different class.
'Just hold on.'
Then it would be enough. The Frog took out a weapon she had prepared. The most difficult beings to fight when traveling alone were spirit-form monsters.
Things like ghosts and malevolent spirits.
The summons the Cultist before her was using were also of a similar form.
A petty trick that manifests a physical form in this world.
There were many ways to deal with them, but she preferred a simple method.
For instance.
"Burn."
Something like using a simple magic tool.
Fwoosh.
Soon, a blue fire lit up on her whip. Of course, it was a type of spell.
Something that would properly damage the summon.
She didn't know.
That the Cultist had burned his own lifespan to use his summons.
She had only thought that he had sent a check toward Enkrid and a troublesome summon toward herself.
In that time, the Warrior's Arm had run on its emaciated two legs and had come right up to Enkrid's nose.
It was just a step away.
Enkrid was in the middle of swinging the sword he held with both hands to deflect the Gnoll's club that was falling on his head, and then slashing forward to gut the creature's abdomen.
Rip!
Though he was cut so deeply that his intestines were visible, the Gnoll swung its club as if it had forgotten the pain.
Enkrid dodged by bending his knees and waist.
Whoosh. The club grazed over his head.
Afterward, as smoothly as flowing water, he pulled back his sword and cut the back of the opponent's knee.
He crossed his left and right feet, got behind the opponent, and left two sword marks on its calf muscles.
Slice, slice!
That was enough.
The creature whose calf muscles were cut couldn't stand properly and fell to its knees.
He then twisted his waist for a greatsword spinning slash.
THWACK!
The Gnoll's head was severed and flew into the air.
Guu—
The creature died without even being able to let out a proper scream.
The movements in between had not been smoothly connected. Since he had moved according to the situation each time, he had still fought with Rem as his standard.
For Enkrid, this was easier than fighting a group. The victor was decided in an instant; the skill gap was stark.
It was around the time he was cutting the Gnoll's calf that the black mass and its sword, sent by the Cultist, had approached.
And around the time he was cutting the Gnoll's neck, that summon swung the shadowless black sword in its hand.
This was the Cultist's final, desperate, and fatal move.
The Warrior's Arm was a summoning art where the summon disappeared after landing a single blow.
A spell used when you absolutely want to kill someone.
Enkrid, having confirmed the creature charging on its emaciated two legs, raised his sword.
The black sword rushed down from above. It was incredibly fast. A sudden acceleration. He couldn't dodge it.
Having drawn a picture of killing the Gnoll and then blocking this, Enkrid raised his sword.
Block and parry.
It was as the Cultist had expected.
The Warrior's Arm would be swung, ignoring physical defense, and would inflict fatal damage on the human's spirit form.
The Cultist's eyes sparkled with anticipation, even as blood flowed from his mouth and arm.
'Die.'
Soon, Enkrid's sword and the sword swung by the Warrior's Arm met.
'Hmph.'
Esther watched Enkrid's fight from the top of the rampart.
The Cultist's spell was a flimsy trick. However, that clumsy trick could be fatal to someone who was completely unprepared.
Knowing that, how could she just let that man go?
She had torn off a piece of the leather armor that had reached the end of its life and had added it to her mana. This was in place of that.
'A gift, man.'
Esther had split off a part of her mana and had planted it in the man's sword.
To react in case the opponent used a spell-like trick.
Enkrid saw a faint blue light shining from his sword.
It was a gap in a split-second of time.
The shining blue sword broke the black sword, and cut the black mass's body in two.
If it had been a human, it would have been as if he had been sliced clean through below the chest.
The sensation of cutting remained in his hand.
Even if it looks like that, does it have something like flesh?
The cut black mass gurgled out black smoke and then soon scattered and disappeared.
And the eyes of the Cultist who saw that widened as if to tear.
"...What was that!"
Enkrid was honest.
He was also bewildered. After thinking for a few seconds longer than usual, though not to the point of deep contemplation, Enkrid's mouth opened.
"I don't really know, either."
At that answer, heat rose in the Cultist's head. He had opened his mouth as if there was something to it, but what kind of answer was that!
As his mental state took a blow, the Cultist's vision began to spin. His breath suddenly caught in his throat.
The man, who had already pushed himself to his limit, had his heart stop right then and there.
"Gack."
Sometimes, a death is in vain.
The Cultist clutched his chest, let out a few ragged breaths, and then pitched forward.
The way his head plunged into the ground with a thud did not look good.
At that, the fog in the minds of the rampaging monsters and beasts cleared.
They too had instincts.
The moment they saw the human who had killed their kind until now, they all fled in all directions.
It meant the colony had been broken.
In the meantime, Enkrid had been looking closely at his sword.
'Was this a magic sword?'
Then was that blacksmith at the Border Guard a magician?
Probably not, it was a combination that didn't suit him at all.