Chapter 440

The brown-haired woman’s eyes sharpened.

“I agree,” said Lua Gharne from behind, clearly bewildered by the conversation taking place after going through the trouble of bringing Enkrid here.

Enkrid didn’t interrupt.

He knew from experience—this was one of those moments where adding a few words would only make things worse.

“Do you have a girlfriend? Or… are you with Aisia?”

“I have a spiritual partner, and a fiancée with a companion cat in the main unit.”

The brown-haired woman and Lua Gharne spoke across from one another, with Enkrid between them, not pausing for breath.

“That’s cruel, my lady. Saying that with me right here.”

A man next to them spoke up. His deep voice came out like a complaint, though it didn’t match him at all. To call it a talent—grumbling in such a gruff and expressionless way—it almost deserved praise.

The woman burst into laughter and slapped the man on the back.

To Enkrid, the whole thing looked awkward.

The man was broad-shouldered, not as big as Audin, but still impressive. The woman was barely half his size.

Her hands looked tiny, patting that massive back.

But of course, that wasn’t all Enkrid saw.

His gaze moved to her palm.

He silently observed.

Calluses. The kind you didn’t get unless you’d gripped a sword and swung it for years.

Then he studied the man.

A large frame, harsh features, a whiny tone, yet a body thoroughly trained, muscles sculpted like stone.

Finally, he looked at a woman with short blond hair and piercing eyes.

Their gazes met.

The brown-haired woman followed Enkrid’s line of sight and spoke.

“She your type? You like dangerous women? But damn, you really are good-looking. Just looking at you’s a treat. Man, the Border Guard folks must be lucky!”

She didn’t care what anyone else thought—just said whatever came to mind. She tapped her cup on the table with a thunk—not awkward, but like a well-placed beat.

“Enkrid of the Border Guard,” he said simply, introducing himself.

He’d long since given up on correcting any of Lua Gharne’s comments. No one here seemed likely to care what he said anyway.

And besides—that wasn’t important.

The brown-haired woman… if he’d seen her on the street, he’d have thought her appearance was unremarkable, just another face in the crowd.

Knight Oara leaned her chair back, lifted the front legs off the ground, and draped her right arm over the backrest.

“Oara of the Red Cloak Knights.”

Of course—she was a knight.

Not quite what Enkrid had imagined, but she hadn’t shown a single gap since they arrived, so she was clearly the real deal.

“A bold one, aren’t you,” said the short-blond woman, spinning a metal cup in her palm.

Enkrid instinctively ran a few reactions through his mind—how to move if that cup flew at him.

He didn’t mean to. It was just reflex.

He’d experienced this kind of thing before. He quickly understood what was happening.

Why that cup felt dangerous.

Because the short-blond woman was hiding her killing intent while readying to strike.

It was the kind of subtle threat Jaxon had shown him time and time again.

If he hadn’t sparred with someone like that countless times, he wouldn’t have sensed it.

And it wasn’t just the cup.

The large man’s right hand had slipped under the table.

Holding a weapon.

Still, Enkrid didn’t look his way. His gaze stayed fixed on Knight Oara.

He intentionally responded with pressure, adding purpose to the primal instinct he’d felt.

It had started earlier. Those two had reacted to it.

But Oara had brushed it all aside. Or rather—she ignored it.

“Unless you’ve got some cursed ghost in you that died without ever landing a hit, cut it out. I know you’re good, but those two? They’re good too.”

Oara said it plainly.

“I’d be honored to spar anytime,” Enkrid replied calmly.

“You’re like that Millio kid,” the big man said, finally making eye contact.

The woman spinning the cup let her killing intent quietly fade.

Oara smiled faintly.

“But seriously—you’re really good-looking.”

The conversation had completely gone off track—but Enkrid had known many like this.

Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, Audin.

This wasn’t unfamiliar.

“I hear that a lot. May I request a sparring match?”

“Oho. A clingy obsessive type. Just like the ones in the novels I’ve been reading lately.”

“I’m definitely persistent. I’d like to learn from a proper knight.”

“There’s something twisted about you. I like that.”

If Knight Oara had her own way of speaking, Enkrid had his own way of staying composed.

Watching them, Aisia looked like someone watching two parallel lines that would never intersect.

“Enough. Let’s talk business, Master.”

A knight was also called a Master—because they were mentors to all members of the Order.

“Oh, business?”

It was only then that Enkrid sat down and got something resembling an explanation.

The erratic Knight Oara suddenly began by talking about the prohibition order.

“How the hell are we supposed to get things done with people getting drunk all over the place? We’re short on people just to clean up the mess.”

“Then why are you drinking?”

Frokk, ever curious, couldn’t hide her question. Now that he thought about it, none of them were surprised to see Frokk standing quietly behind him.

“I’m the one responsible for this city. Its lord, too.”

Oara said it proudly.

Lua Gharne paused for a moment, then nodded. That tracked.

When people rise in rank, some get a little… free-spirited. She understood people pretty well.

To Enkrid, she looked like a free soul who had stepped outside the mold of what a knight should be.

But he wasn’t thrown off by it.

Not everyone in the world could be the same.

More importantly—

‘Not like it matters.’

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

That thought crossed his mind. What mattered was that she was a knight—and that her strength was genuine.

And though it hadn’t been said aloud, she was clearly doing something for this city.

You couldn’t glean all that just by watching Oara—but you could by watching Aisia and the others.

They were obviously tired, but they treated her with respect. With admiration.

As a knight, and as a person.

It was a kind of respect Enkrid hadn’t even seen shown to Crang.

The others were the same.

It wasn’t just respect. It looked like trust.

Whether she was drinking or acting silly or calling him handsome, their eyes didn’t change. Their demeanor didn’t shift.

How someone acted day to day was most clearly reflected in the behavior of those around them.

That was something Enkrid had learned while wandering the continent. A truth etched into his bones.

So he didn’t underestimate people.

He focused only on the fact that she was a knight.

And he hadn’t forgotten the reason he’d come here.

“Isn’t the situation worse than expected?”

Enkrid was quick to assess. If he couldn’t do that, he wouldn’t have survived this long.

Since picking up the sword and charging toward his dreams, he’d done things bordering on suicidal more than once.

To avoid death, he’d used every piece of his environment.

Survival, hardship, danger—he’d turned them all to his advantage.

Those experiences had taught him. They helped him read the signs of a situation.

“It’s bad,” she said.

Aisia nodded and calmly laid out the situation.

“The deserters are a problem, sure—but we’ve also got three colonies that’ve taken root while we were busy fending off the monster wave.”

So that harpy casting spells earlier wasn’t a coincidence. Neither was the smart beast they’d encountered. In hindsight, it was all to be expected.

Colonies raise the quality of both monsters and beasts.

Oara was chewing on a nicely grilled piece of broccoli like none of it concerned her.

Still chewing, she spoke again.

“Lotta deserters this year.”

“We’re not just talking ‘a lot’—we’re practically short-handed,” Aisia replied.

And Enkrid, among all the chaos, cut straight to the heart of it.

Sure, deserters and colonies were problems. But all of it came second to one thing: the tide of monsters surging from the Demon Realm.

From what he could see, that was the greatest threat. The most important one. To the west lay the Demon Realm's edge, and this city existed to guard against it.

“So how do you stop the monsters flooding in from the west gate?” he asked.

“I do,” Oara answered flatly.

Enkrid genuinely wanted to see her fight.

Here stood a knight who claimed she could hold back the Demon Realm's tide alone.

Could the knights of Azpen, the Mercenary King of the East, Ragna, or even Shinar do the same?

Right now, it didn’t feel like it.

It felt like something only this ordinary-looking knight in front of him could do.

“Mind if I watch?”

“Get all your work done, and I’ll let you sit front row. But you’ll have to keep your own ass safe. If you die, I’m pretty sure half the women in the world will turn against me.”

Oara finished with a joke. Enkrid, now fully adjusted to her rhythm, replied without missing a beat.

“So if I’m in danger, you won’t save me?”

That unexpected line made Oara burst into laughter again.

“Pwahaha!”

The large man beside her puckered his lips in an “O” and muttered, “He’s got some edge to him.”

Apparently, this group measured strength by how well you joked.

If that was the case, Enkrid might end up the strongest knight on the continent.

“Not bad,” said the short blond knight-candidate, nodding.

“Have Aisia brief you on the work. I’m getting drunk tonight,” Oara added, and Aisia bowed her head.

Oara straightened her chair with a thunk and drained her cup.

And with that, the meeting was over. Outside, Lua Gharne asked,

“So? What do you think?”

She didn’t need to say more. It was clear she was asking how it felt to meet a knight.

“No idea.”

“No idea?”

“I’ll have to see.”

He was curious about her combat. Even more curious about her sword. What kind of tactics did she use? How did she fight—as a knight?

Not all knights were the same. They each left a different kind of impression.

And now he knew that.

‘No way to even guess without seeing for myself.’

He really wanted to see her sword. The blade of a knight who exuded no pressure at all on the surface.

Desire boiled inside him.

Even after clashing blades with four knights already, his thirst hadn’t been quenched.

But instead of rushing, that longing turned into focus.

‘If that’s a kind of talent…’

Lua Gharne, watching him, found herself wondering: if this man really did become a knight… if he truly learned to wield Will like a knight…

What would he become?

There was no way to predict it.

Even now, he looked like someone on the verge of hitting a wall.

Which only made it more thrilling. The kind of thrill that comes from turning the impossible into reality, where no one can even imagine the outcome.

Lua Gharne felt a tremor most humans would describe as goosebumps.

But instead of goosebumps, her skin flushed red—that was Frokk physiology. She was overwhelmed.

And for that, she vowed to give her all.

Aisia, though visibly tired, didn’t offer any excuse or explanation about Sir Oara.

She knew Enkrid.

She knew he wasn’t the kind to look down on others for being unorthodox.

If anything, he’d show interest. Try to learn something from it.

Sure enough—he was doing just that.

Dunbakel, having listened quietly, finally asked,

“You’re gonna go into the Demon Realm?”

He didn’t sound scared, but there was a faint tension in his voice. He was trying to stay composed—to hide his fear.

“If the chance comes,” Enkrid said bluntly.

If he hadn’t expected that, he wouldn’t have come this far.

Dunbakel swallowed—quietly, carefully. They hadn’t even done anything yet, and he already wanted to run.

“All right. Let’s talk assignments. We’ve got a list that’s more than we can handle. Even clearing half would be a relief.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Just as Enkrid said, Aisia laid it out.

The requests fell into two main categories.

One: deserters.

Apparently, it was worse than usual this year.

And to Enkrid, that made perfect sense. Battles here were a death sentence. Supplies were thin. Pay was laughable.

Compared to the Border Guard support troops, the wages were less than half.

And even that was better than what soldiers from other regions got.

At this point, the only way to keep them from running would be to lock them up.

“But would those guys fight properly even if they stayed? That’s what Sir Oara says,” Aisia explained.

Enkrid got the gist of °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Oara’s philosophy.

Only keep the ones willing to fight. Let the rest go. Cull them through experience. Keep the strong, and the strong of heart.

If they weren’t strong, they’d just break anyway.

The human psyche wasn’t built to withstand too much.

If you spend long enough on death’s doorstep, something breaks.

Living each day thinking you might die tomorrow, watching the guy beside you constantly change…

It wears you down. And to stop that, you need rest. Real rest.

There was a reason the Border Guard used two rotating battalions to fight Azpen back in the day.

It was to avoid continuous combat. Battle fatigue eats away at the mind before the body.

Before Aisia could even get to the second issue—the monster colonies—she let out a sigh of frustration.

“There were two real problems among the deserters. The worst one’s that bastard Jack the Blade. He hit one of the rear supply caravans.”

Thousand Brick was built on land that didn’t grow a single grain of wheat. Hunting didn’t yield much either. Everything had to be brought in.

And that bastard Jack had ambushed a caravan sent from the capital.

Sure, some deserters just ran and laid low—but you’d get lunatics like him once in a while.

The kind who looted something on the way out.

Turned out that over half the conscripts sent here were criminals.

And the more notorious ones? They’d gather a gang, raid a supply line, and vanish.

“Taking him out would help a lot,” Aisia said, then gave Enkrid the details on Jack the Blade.

Enkrid replied simply,

“Pretty sure I killed him on the way here.”