Chapter 251

To the wild horse, the Flaming Skull was an uncontrollable threat.

That’s why it sought help.

And now was the moment. If anything, the Flaming Skull was simply unlucky.

Fwoosh!

A blazing halberd lit up the battlefield, trailed by a line of skeletal hounds and soldiers.

A quick count revealed thirteen of them. Excluding the flaming skull itself, there were twelve.

“Blasphemous and perverse.”

Their bad luck had a very specific reason: a zealous soldier with a deep-seated rage toward the undead.

Whoosh!

The flaming halberd struck down, but Audin intercepted it with his bare palm.

The instant the weapon made contact, flames leapt onto his hand. With a swift motion, Audin swung his arm through the air.

Wham!

The movement produced a gust of wind, and the fire extinguished as if erased.

It wasn’t magic. This was a feat of pure physical strength and speed.

Audin deflected the flaming halberd with ease and began smashing through the approaching skeletons.

With a single punch, a skull exploded into shards, scattering into at least sixteen fragments.

“...That brute,” muttered Rem.

Even Rem couldn’t help but admire Audin’s display of skill in extinguishing the flames.

Audin continued his rampage, shattering skulls and ribs alike. He tore a skeleton’s spine out and used it as a club to crush the head of a skeletal hound.

The Flaming Skull raised its halberd high, aiming for Audin’s back.

Ragna, who had been watching from the sidelines, abruptly stepped forward.

In a single, fluid motion, Ragna unsheathed his blade, twisted his waist, and swung.

It was a textbook heavy-blade draw strike.

Ragna’s sword cleanly severed the skull’s cervical vertebrae.

The flaming skull’s head fell to the ground, and as it did, the flames that once engulfed it vanished.

What remained was a scorched, blackened skull that rolled across the ground, finally stopping against a jagged rock.

Even without its head, the Flaming Skull’s body continued to thrash.

“Damn, it’s still at it,” Rem muttered.

Rem took the initiative, chopping the flaming skeleton’s limbs apart with his axe.

As the Flaming Skull flailed its halberd in defiance, Rem ducked under the swing and countered with an upward chop.

The axe severed the creature’s elbow joint, sending the halberd flying.

The weapon spun through the air, scattering embers as it fell.

Enkrid instinctively shielded his eyes from the sparks with his hand before reaching out reflexively.

The halberd was heading straight for him.

He had two choices: dodge or catch it.

The weapon seemed to have a will of its own, flying as if it were alive.

Trusting his instincts, Enkrid opted to catch it.

If it was too hot, he could simply drop it or throw it away.

He also reasoned that the flames wouldn’t spread outward, as they hadn’t scorched the surroundings.

All of this passed through his mind in an instant.

And so, Enkrid reached out and grabbed the flaming halberd.

Whoosh!

Thunk!

It wasn’t as hot as he expected. The heat was tolerable, far from unbearable.

But something else happened.

Voices echoed in his mind:

“Burn! Burn to ashes!”

“Perish in flames!”

“Be reduced to cinders!”

Images of a man’s life flashed before his eyes—a man tied to a cruciform stake, burned alive.

The man was executed for practicing magic, betrayed by ignorant villagers, and condemned by a manipulative lord.

Was this some kind of curse? No, it was different.

“It’s like Вell’s sword,” Enkrid thought.

This was resentment. Resentment transformed into willpower, infused into the weapon.

It felt eerily similar to the concept of Will.

Enkrid reviewed the man’s life, acknowledged his pain, and rejected it.

He refused to burn.

The resentment within the halberd dissipated under the force of Enkrid’s overwhelming will.

Poof!

The flames vanished, snuffed out as if submerged in cold water.

No steam rose; the fire simply ceased to exist, leaving silence in its wake.

Audin, the only one who understood the full context, observed this in stunned silence.

He had known from the start that the weapon was born from resentment and malice.

He had even prepared himself to purify it with divine power, despite the excruciating pain that would come with breaking his curse.

Yet Enkrid had done it effortlessly.

“...Sweaty palms?” Rem asked, breaking the silence.

Was the fire extinguished by sweat? Absurd.

“Sometimes, I’m amazed at your thick skull,” remarked Jaxon, whose expertise with cursed items left him baffled.

“Seriously, what are you talking about, you crazy lynx?” Rem shot back, eyeing Enkrid expectantly.

“Explain what happened.”

Enkrid shrugged. “It wanted to burn me, so I said no.”

Rem stared, incredulous. That’s your explanation?

Around him, no one seemed fazed—Ragna remained indifferent, and Audin merely nodded, impressed.

“How long has it been since you discovered Will?” Audin marveled silently.

Meanwhile, Jaxon dismissed the scene casually. “Well, that worked out.”

Rem, unconvinced, snatched the halberd from Enkrid’s hand.

The residual resentment flared, weak but still aggressive. It attacked Rem with a simple command: Burn.

However, it was nothing more than a feeble remnant.

The flames flickered briefly before extinguishing.

“Huh?” Audin was startled once more.

This time, there was no overwhelming willpower involved. The flames had simply died out.

“Someone’s been meddling,” Rem muttered. “Can I keep this?”

Enkrid didn’t bother asking for details.

“Sure,” he replied.

Rem examined the halberd closely before using his axe to slice it in half around the midpoint of the shaft.

Thunk!

The enchanted weapon’s handle was shortened, leaving it about the size of a hand axe. With its tapered tip resembling a spike, it could still be used for stabbing, though its weight distribution was far from ideal.

“If you add a counterweight to the handle, it’ll balance better,” Enkrid suggested.

Rem nodded, clearly pleased with the idea.

“Feels like I hit the jackpot,” he said, expressing his satisfaction.

Enkrid nodded in agreement.

Once again, it was clear—the skeleton enemies here were simply unlucky.

After all, who were these people gathered here?

They were the Mad Platoon, a group of reckless warriors known for altering the tide of battle through brute force and unorthodox methods.

Enkrid sheathed his sword with a soft shing and turned to his horse.

“That’s all of them?”

The wild horse hesitated. These humans were unbelievable—the skeletons, which had been a significant threat, had been utterly decimated.

Then again, this was the same human who had once driven a blade into the head of a fearsome centaur.

The horse relented, neighing softly in acknowledgment.

“Good,” Enkrid said, moving forward.

This grave... whose was it? It clearly didn’t belong to someone poor. A blazing halberd and an army of skeletons couldn’t be the entirety of its treasures.

There were no signs of looters, likely due to the wild horse herds and the skeleton guardians.

“Should we dig a bit?”

Enkrid’s eyes fell on a structure resembling a wall. Perhaps something could be unearthed near it.

Jaxon chimed in. “There are a few chests inside.”

Apparently, Jaxon had already scouted the area while the others were fighting.

“Typical sneaky bastard,” Rem muttered approvingly.

Ignoring the comment, Jaxon led the group deeper into the grave site.

The terrain was treacherous, shaped by rains that had eroded the ground, snow that had melted and dried, and sunbaked soil that had hardened unevenly. The surface was littered with jagged rocks resembling natural traps.

But none of it posed any real issue for this group.

“Hey, want to see something cool?”

Rem suddenly stopped and swung his axe at the air.

Whoosh!

The first swing cut downward, and the second, upward.

On the second swing, flames erupted along the blade.

Fwoosh!

“How about ‘Flame Axe Rem’ for my nickname?” he said with a grin, having clearly figured out the weapon’s mechanics.

“Sure,” Enkrid replied nonchalantly.

If Rem fought with that, he’d go from being a crazy axe wielder to a flaming crazy axe wielder.

But there was no need to voice that thought. Everyone needed some encouragement now and then.

“Heh, I like it,” Rem said, clearly satisfied.

The group pressed on, eventually reaching a stable, flat area deep within the grave.

There, a half-open chest emitted a faint warmth.

“Is that... a heating stone? A blessing from the Sun God?” Audin murmured.

Enkrid couldn’t say who had built this grave, but one thing was certain: whoever it was had been obscenely wealthy.

“Take everything,” Enkrid ordered.

The chest contained no silver coins, only gold ones, along with several artifacts.

The most notable was the so-called heating stone, likely the Sun God’s blessing. There was also a bandage that looked and felt metallic.

“This is a rare item,” Jaxon said, his words carrying weight. He rarely spoke so favorably of anything, except for masterfully crafted assassin blades.

Enkrid examined the thick, black bandage. It was about the width of a palm and not very long.

If wrapped purposefully, it could cover most of a torso.

“This is made from specially treated monster hide,” Jaxon explained. “It’s meant to be worn like inner armor.”

No other noteworthy artifacts were found. Though a glowing stone was among the items, none of the group cared much since their night vision was sufficient.

Some broken boots and gloves were also discovered, along with a few gems and a journal.

The journal contained mostly absurd adventure tales—flying on a Pegasus and other wild claims. It ended with a note about settling here because it was a friend’s homeland.

“Here lies someone who wandered without a home, finding peace at last,” it read.

The writer had scribbled out their name, leaving behind musings on a life dedicated to chasing dreams.

The journal was filled with sentiments about exploration, marveling at the world’s wonders, and cherishing the thrill of discovery.

Enkrid felt a sense of kinship with the unknown adventurer.

A kindred spirit who had pursued their dreams, seemingly achieved them, and then laid down to rest, satisfied.

“Romantic or foolish?” Enkrid mused. His old swordsmanship instructor had once said there was a fine line between the two.

The journal was kept—it resonated with Enkrid.

Meanwhile, Jaxon inspected the surrounding walls for traps or hidden mechanisms. He found nothing of note.

The grave appeared to have been intentionally designed to reveal the sky, even before erosion exposed it.

Perhaps that’s why the chests and artifacts were so well preserved.

The horse approached Enkrid, and he placed a hand on its forehead.

“Is that enough for you?”

By now, the sun was setting. Thanks to the heating stone, the air wasn’t cold.

This grave seemed designed as a sanctuary for travelers, complete with mysterious symbols etched into the walls.

Jaxon mentioned that the journal explained the skeleton guards:

“Every adventure needs challenges! I hope whoever finds this can overcome them and use my treasures well!”

There weren’t any legendary relics or holy artifacts, just valuable items.

Still, the journal hinted that this wasn’t the only grave the adventurer had built.

“If you’re a true explorer, find my other graves too.”

What a strange person. Yet their dedication to their dream stirred Enkrid’s heart.

“This is where we’ll sleep tonight,” he announced.

The grave’s unseasonable warmth seemed to beckon rest. It also gave the horse time to part ways with its herd.

“Agreed,” Rem said, content as he held the flaming axe in one hand and the heating stone in the other.

The warmth was priceless, capable of heating an entire barracks. Any noble would pay a fortune for it, but no one here cared about money.

As night fell, the group lay beneath the starry sky. The dazzling starlight poured into the grave, creating an enchanting view.

Wrapped in the gentle warmth, Enkrid lay back and closed his eyes, his dreams filled with fleeting glimpses of the Ferryman.

The Ferryman smirked as always.

“You really do keep hanging out with folks like me,” he sneered.

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Enkrid wasn’t sure. The dream faded quickly.