Chapter 439

The border city guarding the edge of the Demon Realm was called Thousand Brick.

A city whose walls were stacked with countless bricks.

It meant that Naurillia had constructed it with thousands of bricks to keep out the invasion of the Demon Realm.

Even for a place bordering the Demon Realm, what was happening right now inside the cradle of those bricks didn’t seem like something common.

“Hold the line!”

It was right in front of the outer wall. Soldiers were locked in fierce battle.

Above their heads flew harpies, while below, pitch-black hunting dog beasts rampaged.

Enkrid saw that the gate to the city known as Thousand Brick had been half-destroyed.

And this wasn’t even the gate facing the Demon Realm.

Among those holding the front lines, he spotted a familiar face.

Aisia.

She was smashing a lunging beast-dog’s skull with the flat of her blade.

It looked like a light swing, but the power behind it was that of a knight-candidate.

Thud, crack!

The beast's head shattered and rolled away. There were quite a few of them, but did it matter?

Aisia was a knight-candidate too. She calmly beat down and stabbed each black-furred beast-dog, occasionally glancing upward.

Above her, five harpies circled.

It wasn’t dangerous. They were holding proper formation, and if a knight-candidate could die from something like that, they didn’t deserve the title.

Still, just standing and watching felt foolish.

Enkrid stepped forward—he couldn’t just spectate.

It was only a matter of time before they finished off the monsters; speeding that up could only help.

“Rem. Dunbakel.”

“We warming up, are we?”

Even before being called, Rem dashed ahead. Dunbakel followed right after.

Enkrid called to them and sprinted forward as well. He dropped his backpack—burdensome with the beast threat—and only brought a throwing spear.

He pushed off with even pressure across the soles of his feet, using the movement technique he’d learned from Lua Gharne.

It was about strengthening the fundamentals so his center of gravity could shift in any direction at any time.

He felt the wind whip against his face as he ran, and looked up.

Above Aisia’s head, a harpy flapped its wings forward like arms. The way they stirred the air sent a jolt of warning through his senses.

Something unseen—but unmistakable.

Compressed air came slicing down like blades.

Aisia raised her shield to block it.

Clatterclangclack!

The wind blades shattered against her shield in a sharp burst.

A harpy casting spells? Enkrid thought as he kept running.

The harpy ascended higher. Out of blade range, and barely within the edge of a crossbow’s reach.

Unless you were a master archer, a clean hit would be near impossible.

There were five harpies in total.

They knew how to cast spells and take favorable positions.

They could even assess their opponent’s capabilities. If they couldn’t, they’d already be skewered on Aisia’s sword like a row of kebabs.

Enkrid gathered all the visual information in the span of a few breaths.

His senses sharpened like a blade.

The perfect line that only revealed itself in battle drew itself in his mind.

A gift from the genius strategist of Azpen—Abnaier—who had awakened this sense within him.

Enkrid followed it.

While running, he drew the gladius strapped horizontally across his lower back and threw it.

Gripping it in reverse as he pulled it out, he twisted his running angle slightly left, opened his chest, then closed it again while extending his arm.

It was a thrown sword technique adapted from Tanged Blade Form.

Whoosh—

The flying blade spun like a disc.

Harpies usually disrupted crossbow bolts with wind spells, but this wasn’t something they could handle. Realizing that, one twisted its wings to shift air resistance and tilted to the side midair.

The gladius just missed and embedded itself into the bricks of the rear wall.

Thunk!

The harpy, thinking it had dodged, had its head suddenly explode with a wet crack.

An axe was embedded in its skull—it had tilted right into Rem’s thrown weapon.

“One more,” Enkrid said.

Rem wordlessly moved in sync.

This time, Rem threw his axe first. Enkrid picked up a short throwing spear, recalling every moment of training, study, and repetition.

He hadn’t expected to use one of the training spears they’d brought here, but—

“Didn’t we train to handle every weapon at least once? Consider this part of that.”

The training that began with Rem had continued with Lua Gharne.

It was about mastering every weapon and embedding it all into memory until it became instinct.

Enkrid had been diligently practicing throwing spears too. His sharpened senses now allowed him to absorb things far faster than before.

Of course, any so-called genius might say it was still lacking—but Enkrid thought it was good enough.

And now he had a chance to prove it.

With a thwack!, the arm-length spear pierced the harpy’s chest as it dodged Rem’s disc-spinning axe.

Crack!

It smashed through the breastbone and drove clean through. The harpy was flung backward into the wall, bounced off, and hit the ground with a dusty thud.

“Enki?”

Aisia recognized him.

“Let’s clean up first,” Enkrid replied.

Dunbakel didn’t even glance at the harpies and instead charged the beast-dogs below.

Running on two legs, he lowered his posture, drew both of his curved swords, and swung them wide. They looked like twin bladed whips slicing through flesh.

Up close, it became clear why Aisia hadn’t gone all-in.

With that kind of power, she could’ve easily taken out five harpies if she’d gone for it—so why hadn’t she?

She was guarding a few people behind her—likely merchants.

If she left her position, the harpies would’ve surely targeted them. So she’d just held the line.

Two harpies dead, the magic-casters among them began to flap away in retreat.

Three of them flew off into the distance.

The dim, overcast sunlight broke through the clouds where the harpies had been moments ago.

Enkrid, having cleared the monsters, was about to start a conversation—but Aisia beat him to it.

“You were the backup?”

“What about you?”

“I’m support too. It’s my original post, after all.”

She was right. Aisia was a member of the Red Cloak Knights.

“Let’s go in,” she said, casually pulling out a cloth, wiping down her sword, and putting it away.

Her attitude said this was nothing to her.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Among the merchant group behind her, a few had gone pale and collapsed to the ground.

“No one said there’d be spell-casting harpies,” one of them said. His tone sounded accusatory, but it was probably just fear.

There weren’t many merchants who’d dare speak like that to a knight-candidate.

Fists and swords were closer than krona.

Luckily, Aisia was the type to understand his state.

“First time I’ve seen it too. Either way, you came here to work, didn’t you?”

Enkrid was reminded again—Aisia was a knight of the order.

A knight-candidate wouldn’t waste energy on trivial matters.

Listening to her dry tone, even Enkrid started to think the merchant was being dramatic.

“Get yourself together. Lie there too long, and that harpy’s gonna think it left a lunchbox for later.”

So Enkrid stepped in with a softer tone.

That did it. Everyone jumped up. Some gritted their teeth as they helped the collapsed to their feet.

“Hey, don’t scare them,” Aisia called over her shoulder, already heading inside.

“When did I?” Enkrid replied. Rem clapped his shoulder, chuckling.

“Calling them a harpy’s lunch? Yeah, that’s definitely a threat.”

Cackling, Rem followed after Aisia.

Enkrid thought the merchants had no sense of humor. He’d been half-joking.

Who dies to harpies with a knight-candidate guarding them?

“You should practice throwing while running more,” Lua Gharne said as she handed him his gladius and gathered up the rest of the packs.

Enkrid nodded and stepped through the gate.

The half-shattered city gate no longer seemed like anything remarkable.

The people inside were unbothered.

The soldiers beside Aisia chatted loudly, not even bothering to whisper.

“We need to wipe those damn harpies off the face of the earth.”

“Kill all the damn monsters, every last one.”

This was Thousand Brick.

The gateway to the Demon Realm, built from a thousand bricks.

A place so dangerous that most wouldn’t even want to live here.

Only those who hated monsters remained inside.

Compared to Border Guard, a former fortress city, Thousand Brick was twice as brutal.

Two soldiers—it was hard to say whether they were guards or bandits—walked by without helmets, ignoring the merchants and stopping in front of Enkrid.

One had a long scar above his right brow. The other looked like the offspring of a guard and a thug.

Clomp, thud. Clomp, thud.

The one walking with his spear tapping against the ground came to a stop in front of Enkrid.

He ignored Frokk, the beastwoman, even Rem.

“You General Enkrid, the Demon Slayer?” he asked.

Enkrid nodded slightly, feeling a subtle pressure.

The man shifted the spear to his opposite hand. Enkrid didn’t react.

He placed his right arm, now bent, across his waist and said,

“It’s an honor!”

It was a formal military salute.

The man, who had long said he wanted to meet Enkrid after hearing all the rumors, was named Millio.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Enkrid replied.

Millio’s hands trembled with emotion.

“Would you… maybe spar with me sometime…?”

“You dumb bastard, have you lost your mind? How dare you ask him for a spar—”

The soldier next to him erupted with anger.

“Yeah, the mood’s a little different here. You’ll have to get used to it.”

Aisia, who had entered ahead of them, leaned against the wall and spoke. She looked exhausted. Now that he saw her clearly, there were dark shadows under her eyes. Like she hadn’t slept in days.

“‘Get used to it,’ my ass. He’s enjoying this.”

Rem chimed in beside her. And he was right.

The kid asked for a spar, so if they agreed—what was the issue?

“And you two. Sparring at a time like this? You think this is a game?”

“No, ma’am!”

“We’ll correct ourselves, ma’am!”

The two soldiers straightened up at Aisia’s words.

Judging by their discipline, she probably smacked them around when bored.

“Let’s go. First, we need to meet Sir Oara.”

Knight Oara.

That was the reason Enkrid had come here.

In the meantime, more soldiers had shown up—each one rougher-looking than the last.

“Rem, you sure have a lot of friends here.”

Enkrid said, and Rem looked around. No one from the west.

He caught on quickly and gave a knowing grin.

It was the same grin he wore whenever he buried an axe in a monster’s skull—or a man’s.

Rem realized his captain was in high spirits and was teasing him.

“What’s got you so giddy?”

He asked—and quickly figured it out.

“Damn. You’re excited to meet a knight.”

“Correct.”

Enkrid answered, following Aisia’s lead.

The city was large, but not densely populated. Most people carried weapons. No flower-selling girls or anything of the sort.

There were general stores and grocers, sure—but they seemed nearly deserted.

One shop was filled with people carving long animal horns.

Other than that, there wasn’t much in stock.

There was a bakery, though. They sold arrow-shaped bread inside.

It was literally called arrow bread.

The tavern next door was eerily quiet.

You’d expect it to be packed with folks drinking from midday—but everyone seemed to avoid the place.

The tavern owner stood out front, his face twisted in frustration, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“How the hell am I supposed to make a living like this?! So what if they’re knights?!”

Knights are respected.

Because they face the abyss alone.

Knights are feared.

Because no one can predict the power they wield.

Knights are revered.

Because they stand firm for their convictions.

“Oara! Please!”

The burly man—presumably the tavern owner—kept shouting similar things, but no one answered.

Aisia didn’t even acknowledge him as she passed.

“I get it. Things are rough right now, so there’s a prohibition order in effect.”

“Prohibition?”

Enkrid asked, but Aisia only told him to ask Sir Oara for the details.

They walked a dirt path that hadn’t been properly leveled. In one alley, a few prostitutes were visible.

That business, at least, seemed to be doing fine.

One man—clearly a soldier—was heard speaking ahead.

“Come on, give me a discount.”

“Don’t be stupid. What, you wanna save a few krona for a roll in the hay?”

“No, I mean, I’ll just—damn it…”

The soldier raised a hand, clearly furious. Enkrid’s steps slowed.

The woman was the weaker party here. He couldn’t just watch a beating happen. If necessary, he’d step in—with words, or fists.

But the man didn’t even touch a hair on her head.

“Go ahead. Try it and die.”

The prostitute was bold. The soldier hesitated, then lowered his hand.

“Sorry. Lost some money at cards yesterday. I’ve been in a foul mood all morning.”

He apologized. She snorted, then grabbed his arm and pulled him into a side door.

They’d argued, but clearly knew each other.

“That’s unique,” Rem said, intrigued.

Enkrid agreed. What he’d just witnessed didn’t quite feel like ordinary life. It was… different.

“I’m gonna check out the city a bit,” Rem said, more curious about the town than the knights, and wandered off to look around.

At the city center stood a house—far too modest to be called a mansion.

It was a log cabin.

Even in a city named Thousand Brick, not everything could be built with bricks.

Who had time to transport all that, mix the mortar, and stack it?

It made more sense to chop down trees from the nearby forest and build with that.

This was that kind of house—built from logs.

Creeaak.

Aisia opened the door without knocking, and a horrible screech echoed.

The hinges were rusted to hell.

“You’re not gonna fix that door?”

“Fix it yourself. All I’m good at is swinging a sword.”

A voice replied from inside. A woman’s voice—languid, lifeless.

“Well then, perfect. Do it yourself,” came another voice. Deeper. Male.

Dunbakel stayed outside. Only Lua Gharne and Enkrid stepped in.

The room was lit by candles ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) and oil lamps.

A round table stood in the center. Around it sat three people and a bottle filled with some brown liquid.

“Did the merchant kids make it back okay?”

The woman seated in the middle asked with half-lidded eyes. The candlelight made her hair look red, but outside it was probably more brown.

Her eye color was similar. Likely brown, too, if not for the candlelight.

The smell of alcohol hung thick in the air.

“Reinforcements have arrived. The Demon Slayer, at that.”

Aisia spoke, and the brown-haired woman turned her hazy gaze on Enkrid.

“…You.”

She couldn’t speak for a moment—then finally said,

“You’re good-looking.”

Suddenly, the fog in her eyes cleared, and focus returned to the knight’s drunken stare.