Chapter 736 - That Someone
When holding the spear at a wide grip, how should you position your feet as you thrust?
Brunhild knew the answer even without having to ask.
"Why did you move your feet like that?"
Whenever that happened, Enkrid would ask, and Brunhild would set the spear upright like a staff and fall into thought. In a way, it looked rather funny. One of them was swinging the spear as she pleased, while the other kept asking why she was doing it that way. Could you really call this teaching? But this worked.
'Her learning ability is exceptional.'
What's more, she's not even lazy. If that's a kind of talent, then so be it. It's a talent completely separate from what you're born with—the ability to enjoy yourself even when you're tired. Brunhild's eyes still sparkled just swinging the spear back and forth.
"How many times should I repeat this?"
"A hundred times a day."
Even when told to simply practice thrusting and moving the spear shaft, she smiled and said she'd be glad to do it. Enkrid mostly wielded a sword, but he'd handled a spear plenty before. He focused on guiding her through the basics he knew, coaching her to repeat certain movements and answering her questions, sharing the tips he'd picked up through experience.
'The important thing is how you use your strength.'
It doesn't matter what you hold in your hand.
'She'll figure out the basics on her own.'
What this child really needs is technique. Simply put, what Enkrid was doing now was planting a series of signposts for the path Brunhild would have to walk in the future. When Enkrid snapped off a branch, stripped off the twigs, and swung it like a wooden sword, Brunhild gleefully swung her spear in imitation. Enkrid spent half the day this way.
'Still, something's missing.'
Brunhild is incredibly talented, but she tends to skip over the intermediate steps. It might not seem like a problem right now,
'But it's better to learn things properly from the start.'
He'd have to think about how to address this. He couldn't exactly write a full swordsmanship manual and leave it behind here. If that were the case, he'd have to stay in this village for half a year.
'That's not really possible.'
His original plan was only to handle the threat. However dangerous the Beasts were, as long as they showed up, he could deal with them—he just had to wait until then.
'If I can reduce the number of Beasts, that should be enough.'
That's the kind of thing a knight ought to try. As long as the Beasts appeared, he could spend a couple of sleepless nights tracking them down, cutting them down, stabbing, and killing them. There were no signs of Beasts at the moment, but if he actively searched for them, he was sure he'd find some soon enough—so it wouldn't take long.
Enkrid wasn't exactly a master hunter, but he wasn't blind, either.
It was easy to get lost in the mountains, but as long as you had a clear base and didn't stray too far from it, there was no need to worry about losing your way.
'I'm not Ragna, after all.'
The Beast problem that tormented Harkbent didn't seem like much to Enkrid.
Before he knew it, dusk began to fall. The days were short in the mountains. Unless you lived on a plateau like Yohan, that was just the way things were.
The surrounding peaks quickly blocked the sunlight, so the shadows deepened and Brunhild's shadow stretched across the ground.
"Heh."
The child still swung her spear with a bright smile, backlit by the setting sun. The orange rays washed over her, over him, and swept gently across the whole village.
If you chose to look at it sentimentally, it was a warm, affectionate kind of light—
a hand that seemed to embrace those who had survived each day, enduring hardship after hardship to reach the present.
And yet, he saw visions overlaying the scene. The faces of those he hadn't been able to protect, the ones who'd died, appeared as clear as day before his eyes.
No matter how many times he repeated these days, those shadows would never disappear.
Some stains could never be wiped away, no matter what you did. Some scars, even if they faded, remained sharply defined.
'Help us.'
He had staked his life on that single plea—and failed. Enkrid hadn't been able to help anyone.
'Someone, anyone, has to save us. It can't end like this. It's not fair.'
They called it a village of sinners. There was a father, who'd tried to kill the lord after his daughter was taken from him and failed, becoming a fugitive. Others had lost everything because they couldn't afford the registration tax demanded to stay in the city.
A flood of tangled memories rushed through his mind, awash in the orange glow of sunset.
He'd imagined it countless times, over all those many days. Would things have turned out differently if someone had stepped in at that moment?
'Someone.'
His chest didn't swell with pride, but he felt downy hairs stand on end as a faint thrill ran through his whole body.
Enkrid, for all those countless hours, had become that someone he'd always imagined in those moments.
Out of the vision, a woman with her hair neatly braided, wearing an apron, appeared and spoke.
"Do you think I'd hold a grudge? If it weren't for you, no one would have stepped forward. That's why—you can lay your burdens down now. It's all right to live like that."
"You've done enough."
A burning emotion welled up inside him, surging from his heart to his face. Since there was no reason to hold it back, Enkrid let his tears fall.
It didn't mean anything grand. He was just letting his feelings flow.
"Ha!"
Right next to Enkrid, the gifted girl struck with her spear.
He thought that, if she kept growing like this, she might one day become that someone for others as well.
After the wild Beast's attack, Harkbent hadn't slept a wink, dark circles ringing his eyes. Anxiety and worry gnawed at him.
'If we go into the city like this…'
They would end up in the Slum.
Is that the right thing to do?
'Maybe it's better than everyone dying.'
What is the right answer?
Harkbent knows there's no such thing as a right answer in life. It's one of the things he's learned in over forty years.
'But is that any way to live?'
Should we live as slaves for fifty years, or should we live as humans for just five?
If we stay and defend the village and die holding out, at least we'll die clinging to hope.
'But if we go down to the city to survive…'
We'll have to live on in despair.
It wouldn't be much different from living as slaves again.
And just getting down through the mountains isn't something ordinary either.
Would I even be able to save half the people?
"Ugh."
The pressure tightened around his mind so much that it started affecting his body, making him gag. There was nothing in his stomach, so only bitter bile dribbled out.
His throat burned. His eyes burned. Even his ears and nose felt hot.
He felt like a hunk of meat tossed into a steaming pot.
"Hoo."
He took a deep breath and pulled himself together, lifting his head to see the sunset.
Looking at it, he remembered the outsider with black hair—someone whose striking appearance was unforgettable after just one glance.
That man killed the Beast in an instant.
Was that swordsman the village's savior?
But if not—what did he want? So if he kills the Beast and asks for something in return, can I give it to him?
What if he asks for my daughter?
Should I hand her over?
If sacrificing one could save everyone, is that what I should do?
It torments me.
I know what must be done, but I can't do it.
No, that's not it.
Harkbent knows one of the truths of this world.
Salvation must be earned by your own hands.
No one can save someone else for them.
"Don't try to carry it all on your own, Harben."
An old man, over sixty, came closer as he spoke. His back was bent, and cataracts clouded his eyes.
"Each of us will choose and decide our own lives. Haven't we always done so until now?"
"…Yes. I know."
"If that swordsman makes an outrageous demand, we'll fight to the last man standing."
He said this, having read the worries on my mind.
"We need to stop the Beasts first."
That was what needed to be done. That was the order of things. The night sky, after the sunset had faded, was pitch black. As if unsatisfied with the darkness, the two moons and the stars shone even more brightly, competing with each other. But Harkbent saw none of that light—there was no room in his heart to take in beauty right now. His mind was filled with anxiety brought on by this unexpected crisis. And then came a sound, like a bell of alarm being struck. Of course, it wasn't clear and refreshing, but harsh and heavy.
Thud! Crack!
Harkbent's village was a small basin surrounded by ancient trees. If someone were to look from above, they'd see a neatly clustered circle, cleverly hidden in the mountains. When one of those ancient, natural fortresses gave way with a splitting sound, it was as loud as thunder.
"A Bear!"
Someone shouted. Harkbent recognized Jerry's voice. Jerry had sharp eyes and ears, and was skilled at crafting bows and arrows—a talented companion. Lately, the Beasts' movements had become unusual, so they'd set traps around the perimeter and had been keeping a close watch. Not just Harkbent, but many went without sleep—Jerry was one of them. Harkbent grabbed the spear he had propped up next to the semi-basement house and dashed outside.
"If it's a Bear Beast, you'll be killed if you go! Everyone has to hide!"
An old man, his voice shrill and high-pitched, shouted—hardly fitting for his age. But hiding would not solve anything. Harkbent knew this instinctively. He bolted toward the source of the tremendous noise to see its cause with his own eyes. Standing tall on two legs, the creature's presence was overwhelming. People often said something was "as big as a house"—and this beast truly was.
It was at least three times the size of a person.
That massive body was spraying black blood in all directions.
To be precise, what Harkbent saw was a Beast, its neck half-severed, swinging its claws furiously.
Then, a man standing in front of it struck away the bear's paw with his bare hand.
Am I seeing this right?
Do I need to rub my eyes?
Anyone in his position would have wondered the same thing.
Harkbent had never seen a Knight before.
In fact, it was common to go one's entire life without encountering one.
With the continent's power dynamics shifting and numerous clandestine militant groups appearing, warriors who'd experienced battlefields now truly felt the impact of the Knights—but this was the Village of Hermits.
Most of the residents here were oblivious to the affairs of the continent. So, of course, it was a scene beyond imagination.
He'd already been shocked by the invisible speed with which the wild dogs were taken down, but this surpassed even that.
At least with the wild dogs, they'd managed to fight it off somehow.
But a Bear Beast?
One as big as an actual house?
***
Before anyone could shout "Bear!" or before trees started falling, Enkrid was already awake, jolted upright by a sense of foreboding.
He sprang lightly from bed.
Aside from his clothes, the only thing he could put on was a pair of cloth gauntlets.
Even so, he didn't have a moment to don the gauntlets—he simply grabbed Samcheol and headed out.
He slapped the beast hide covering the entrance with a loud thunk as he exited, releasing a faint, musky animal scent.
With the smell in the air, finding the right direction was no problem.
Sharpening his senses, he soon picked up the sounds of branches snapping—crunching, cracking under something massive.
Something huge was moving closer.
Its presence was unmistakable. As Enkrid started toward the sound, there was a heavy thud.
Someone, having spotted its form in the moonlight, shouted, "Bear!".
Even just seeing that hulking shape lunge out of the pitch-darkness would make anyone's knees buckle.
That is, for most people.
Enkrid sprang forward and grabbed the collar of the man facing the bear.
The man froze, caught mid-shout.
A beast is a predator, and when a beast reaches the level of a Monster, just looking at it can make a person freeze in place.
This is the fundamental principle behind the intimidation that Monsters exert.
It's the fear of the prey that causes their bodies to lock up.
'The beginning of Will's rejection—'
—it was to shake off that fear.
This was the thought that crossed his mind as he ran.
It didn't matter if he was distracted by such thoughts.
He had rushed out in a hurry, but once outside, he felt a sense of calm.
That sense of composure was probably thanks to having bolted out so quickly.
When Enkrid grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and hurled him back, the man's legs completely left the ground.
"Uh, ah, uh."
The man, unable even to scream properly, landed hard on his rear just as the Bear Beast rushed over and slashed with its claws.
Despite its size, it was unbelievably fast. Seeing it deftly change the direction of its claws—withdrawing from striking the man to instead aim at him—showed how sharp its judgment was.
Enkrid raised the sword in his hand diagonally.
Samcheol's blade looked like a child's forearm trying to block a giant's axe, yet that arm could still knock aside the giant's weapon.
Thunk.
'Its claws are thick.'
The moonlight was bright.
At this point, it wasn't hard to see ahead. It wasn't as bright as midday, but the moonlight was more than enough to make out the features of the beast that had appeared.
'It's missing one eye.'
The scar running over one eye looked old, and on its chest, he spotted fur of a different color shaped like a crescent moon.
'Becoming a Beast has doubled its strength and made its claws as hard as steel.'
A few other traits typical of Beasts registered in his mind, but he brushed them aside.
He was still getting used to the Luagarne-style Tactical Sword, so every little detail tended to get logged as important, but knowing how to ignore unnecessary information was just as crucial—otherwise, he'd end up overwhelmed.
So that's what Enkrid did.
He let the extras slide.
He knocked aside the descending claws with Samcheol's Black Steel Blade, then immediately swung at its neck.
In the air, the blade traced two arcs—one from parrying the blow, and two as it swept through the beast's neck.
Thwack!
Black blood sprayed everywhere as the creature let out a guttural howl—more a scream full of pain than a true roar.
Even in that state, it lunged with its other hand.
'Now that's information I need.'
The transformation into a Beast granted it a tenacious vitality.
The blood vessels in its severed neck tangled together and began to regenerate.
And despite its pain, it attacked with just as much aggression. He deliberately parried the bear's other descending hand with his bare hand. That freed up his grip on Samcheol.
The Bear Beast fought back to the very end.
It opened its mouth wide and, despite its dangling neck, tried to sink its teeth into Enkrid's head.
That kind of ferocity went beyond anything his insight could predict.
'That caught me off guard.'
Enkrid took a split second to think, then activated the Sword of Chance, and even this seemed like part of his plan.
Samcheol, which had been tracing a straight vertical line, suddenly curved and stabbed horizontally into the bear's cheek, stopping it cold.
Thud! Crunch!
The beast bit down on Samcheol, and as Enkrid pulled back the hand that had struck the bear's face, he thrust his right foot forward.
In a flash, he switched to a left-handed stance.
With his right hand, now gripping Samcheol, he pulled it back, and with his left, he sent his fist flying.
As the beast, still biting down on the blade, brought its head into perfect range, Enkrid's ankle and waist snapped with the motion.
His outstretched left hand delivered a single strike in the style of Valaf-style Martial Arts, riding the momentum of a broadsword blow he'd learned from watching Ragna.
Will filled his fist as it slammed into the bear's head.
Bang!
The bear's head exploded, scattering debris to one side. Enkrid shook off his hand in the air.
Without a gauntlet, even his fingernails seemed stained black with blood. Enkrid kept his gaze fixed ahead. Even though the Bear Beast was dead, its rancid stench still assaulted his nose.
In the darkness, two leopards glared at him, their bodies tensed to pounce if he gave chase—just far enough to keep their distance.
His body moved the moment the thought crossed his mind.
With a heavy thud, the ground erupted beneath the heels of Enkrid's boots.
Moonlight gleamed off Samcheol, tracing a long arc toward the two Leopards.
***
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