Chapter 478

Last night, Rem had said it.

That the way Enkrid lived, the way he walked, showed him the path he needed to take.

He was grateful for that.

It was annoying to think he’d end up following this man again, but gratitude was gratitude.

That was why.

Owl wanted to show him the things she, her family, her friends, and the West loved.

“I want to show you something.”

Owl spoke and led Enkrid along. The two of them walked, avoiding ants, watching bugs, and walking against the wind.

They soon left their dwelling. Their steps didn’t hesitate.

In the West, villages were mostly found only toward the continent, but that didn’t mean you could stroll around without care.

Still, here, neither Owl nor a few beasts were the type to be easily overwhelmed.

While the tribe was settling in, they’d cleaned out several packs, so monsters were scarce in the area.

As for people—maybe some Gothic Garden feral cats or a copycat.

The names sounded chivalrous, but they were creatures that mimicked voices to lure people and struck at their weak spots.

Whether they were cats or not, the word “cat” was used as a common insult in the West.

Enkrid understood why people would call him a cat when they applied the insult to him.

It was an insult. Even when he didn’t know what it meant, it still sounded like one.

Вoth of them walked quickly, and Owl climbed up a small ridge.

Enkrid, following behind, looked up at the sky.

“Pretty, right?”

Owl asked.

Enkrid nodded.

It was as if a white ceiling had been laid across the sky.

Clouds hung low and wide, blanketing the sky.

But it wasn’t dark.

The clouds were thin. Sunlight filtered through them and lit the earth below.

It was a wondrous sight.

“Sun-shield clouds,”

Owl said.

You wouldn’t see something like this in the West. It was beautiful.

The clouds, the sunlight, even the horizon she gazed toward.

‘Oara, like sunlight.’

Naturally, Knight Oara came to mind.

That sunlight was like her laughter.

Not hot, not harsh, just a warm light that cradled you gently in its arms.

It was different from the sunlight in the city of Oara.

That light was one that drove out darkness as it advanced.

It shattered fog and gave strength.

The sunlight of the West didn’t break anything—it wrapped around you peacefully.

This sunlight resembled Knight Oara, not the city.

She fought on the front lines, but normally, she embraced the city like this.

“Do you think it’s worth protecting?”

One day, a boatman had asked that question out of nowhere.

There was no object, no subject. But the intent was clear.

The things you want to protect—are they worth it?

Is there a reason to endure pain and keep moving forward?

Enkrid hadn’t answered aloud.

Because the answer already existed in his heart.

Value is something you determine for yourself.

Just because someone called a sage says it, must you follow their words?

What others decide can’t become your standard.

This is your life.

Therefore—

Value is something completed through your own way of seeing.

So it was for the people of the West.

Owl began her story.

In a way, it was nothing special. In another, it sounded like a legacy of Western spirit.

“On sunny days, a wild horizon rises from over there. When the fireweed blooms and the sun blazes, it rains behind the ridge. We call it the Bear’s Blessing.”

Why it was called that would probably take a whole myth to explain.

“It’s not abundant. But it’s not full of suffering either.”

What is it we must protect?

Owl said—

That she loved this West.

That living to protect this land made her happy.

“I’ve never seen snow, but I imagine it’s like white hail wind, right?”

“Hail wind” referred to dry hail. It wasn’t really fair to compare hard pebbles to snow.

“Snow’s probably pretty too.”

Loving the West didn’t mean she rejected everything else.

Of course, if you told her snow was beautiful, she might swing her weapon first and ask questions later.

She’d lap the training yard once just to make a point.

More than that, and you’d definitely be hit. But not less.

Still, she wouldn’t dismiss something just for being beautiful.

There were days when she looked out at snow-covered mountains.

Days when she watched forests dyed with autumn leaves.

Enkrid followed the gaze of her recollection until they stopped at a tree.

It was a tree so large it couldn’t be hugged even with both arms spread wide.

At its center were bright red fruits, green in summer, bare and snow-covered in winter.

Enkrid thought the tree looked beautiful.

The value worth protecting is something you choose for yourself.

Owl had done so.

So had the people of the West.

“We love this land.”

Owl said.

So they didn’t reach greedily for the riches beyond.

If they lacked something, they lived with that lack.

What had been passed down for so long became tradition.

The West’s tradition was rooted in their spirit.

That day, Enkrid saw the sun-shield clouds—and the cloud tower too.

When he stood beneath the high clouds, the horizon came into view, and from beyond it, white clouds had descended like a tower.

It was an afternoon spent gazing at horizons, sunlight, wind, and clouds.

Around sunset, Owl came back.

“Hara, is she all right?”

“She’s fine.”

Though Enkrid had become a charm doll, or a human totem, there was no need to stay in the tent all day.

Once the tribe had sacrificed one collective consciousness, the same curse couldn’t hit them again.

Hara knew how hard it was to prepare that kind of group ritual. They had offered a sacrifice.

To spread that purple-haired joke of a curse, another sacrifice would be needed. Even attempting it without one was impossible.

If words are sorcery, then he had offered up his consciousness and lifespan as the price.

In short, this kind of curse couldn’t be used—or blocked—without a sacrifice.

That’s also why not even a seasoned word sorcerer had broken it yet.

What is sacrificed doesn’t return easily.

Rem sometimes asked if a word sorcerer might eventually break it, but even Hara didn’t know the answer.

If it weren’t for him, the entire tribe would have fallen to the curse.

The word sorcerer had narrowed its scope and bought time.

It sounded simple, but in terms of sorcery, it was a one-time gamble that had paid off.

Maybe it was just luck.

Like someone had offered protection for the tribe, somewhere, somehow.

That was as far as Hara let her thoughts go. She didn’t bother digging deeper.

There was too much happening to chase it all.

She just did what needed doing, even splitting her sleep.

Erasing the remnants of the curse, even one day sooner, was her job.

Hara nodded at the scorched idol she held in her flaming hands.

It was her answer to “Hara, is she all right?”

“Let’s go.”

Owl led Enkrid again.

This time, they were headed for a massive lake.

“You’ve never ridden one, right?”

She asked. In her hand was a set of reins, and at the end of them—Beltolter.

The creature that now observed Enkrid through the eyes split by sacrificial rite.

Beside her, a man tasked with handling spells and hatchling care followed.

With cropped hair and a blade-like symbol drawn on his forehead, he looked anything but friendly.

Owl had brought four Beltolters.

“Do you know where Rem’s sleeping?”

She asked, not seeing him around.

“He sleeps with me, where else?”

The reply came immediately.

Had ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) they made up already?

“It’s natural for a married couple to share a home,”

Owl said matter-of-factly.

What kind of charm had changed her mind?

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Rem’s only real skill was swinging an axe, so maybe he’d just overpowered her.

Enkrid thought to himself he ought to have a word about how a husband should treat his wife.

Juul only chuckled at the side.

The man next to him glared at Enkrid with a quiet hostility—and now Enkrid thought he knew why.

That man’s eyes were flicking between Enkrid and the woman who had come with him.

“She’s the benefactor,”

The woman said. Ziba’s mother, who had insisted on following despite being told it was fine.

Now she sat with both hands on her knees, holding them out to Enkrid, urging him to ride the Beltolter.

“Please, climb on.”

“I can get up on my own.”

Enkrid spoke, walked to the other side, and with a light push from the ground, leapt up onto the Beltolter.

The beast must’ve been docile—it didn’t even flinch at the weight and simply bent its knees briefly before rising.

If it were human, you’d say it had good motor skills.

It understood how to handle shifting weight.

Rem had once said it was worse than a horse, but not by much.

Still, it probably wasn’t smarter than Chokchok.

Chokchok wasn’t just clever—he had a steadfast heart.

Even with monster blood, he somehow had the spirit of a calm pack animal.

“Crown’s lover,” once said Noir, the former captain under Grimperl.

Why that popped into his head now was anyone’s guess.

Maybe it was just because he was looking at a mount again.

Enkrid lifted the saddle and gripped the reins of the Beltolter.

They said that once the reins were in its mouth, it would move on its own according to your tugs.

Lua Gharne remained in the tent. She had a reason.

“There’s a strange scent.”

She said this after they’d finished preparing to leave.

“I bathed two days ago.”

Beside her was her dulled, bristling fur.

“That’s not the kind of scent I mean,”

Lua Gharne answered softly, the way she said she always soothed others while scanning the surroundings.

Enkrid didn’t pay it much mind.

They said Frokk were dull, but when it came to goals and desire, they were often more sensitive than beastfolk and their sharp noses. Something must have bothered her.

“Let’s go,”

Owl said, taking the lead. The Beltolter kicked off the ground and began to run.

Enkrid tightened his legs and used his strength to stay balanced.

It wasn’t that easy to get used to riding a Beltolter. It was different from a horse.

“Having trouble riding?”

Juul, riding beside him, offered help.

“Don’t tense your legs—let them hang. Beltolters are very smart. Just trust your body to it and it’ll do the rest. This one’s well-trained.”

Listening to that Western drawl, Enkrid did as he was told.

Owl slowed her pace slightly.

“Talented kids can ride well on the first try. You’re a bit slow, huh?”

It was a comment meant for someone naturally gifted with their body—such people usually picked it up quickly.

Still, after riding for a while, he started to get the hang of it.

He wasn’t as fast at controlling his body as he once was.

They reached a huge lake.

So large, the ends couldn’t be seen at a glance.

“A big lake,”

Owl said, smiling.

They said on the Western side it was rare to see thin fog like this, but today wasn’t one of those days.

Beneath the clear sky, the lake reflected the heavens above.

Far off, fish could be seen jumping between the ripples.

The white pebble shore around the lake made it seem even clearer.

As they admired the lake, a Western man with a scowl spoke.

“I want to ask what you intend to do about that woman.”

He skipped any context, just like a Westerner. There was no need to ask who he meant.

He didn’t even bother hiding his hostility. He was talking about Ziba’s mother.

“I don’t care. I’m not thinking about her.”

“Ziba is still young, don’t forget that.”

The man said, and Enkrid calmly dispelled the misunderstanding.

“Do you know how to fight?”

“…I’m a warrior.”

“Then answer like one.”

Talking would take too long. If he was going to challenge him, better to do it properly—with swords.

The man used a broad falchion and wasn’t a bad fighter.

If he kept training, he could probably crush an average squire. The man had talent.

“I’m not interested, so stop worrying. And yes, I know Ziba is still a child.”

Enkrid said this after stepping in and striking his opponent with a clubbed blow.

The man couldn’t breathe and turned pale, coughing roughly before replying:

“…Yeah, I know. I’m just jealous.”

Westerners never hid anything. Enkrid actually saw that as one of their strengths.

“How well does the Blade Dancer fight?”

“You mean the Blade Dancer of the Narae Tribe? He’s the top warrior.”

The man answered, and Owl added,

“Top warrior means the best fighter in the tribe.”

Enkrid had already figured that out from the context.

They returned to camp, trained, traded jokes with the Blade Dancer.

“I saw a wide river. Across it, I saw my uncle.”

Someone who had just woken up started talking.

“And then?”

The Blade Dancer, listening nearby, asked.

The man lowered his voice.

“I crossed the river—my father was calling me.”

Ziba had wandered over and was now listening too. The man had a knack for storytelling.

He cast his gaze off as if staring at a distant sky. Then said:

“When I crossed, the water came up to my waist. But the current wasn’t strong. I dragged my soaked pants across and stood face to face with my father.”

“Face to face,”

The Blade Dancer echoed. Enkrid, too, sat in a listening posture.

“I punched him in the jaw and came back. He said it wasn’t my time yet.”

Even without strength, he pounded his chest with a thud, raising his fist to the sky as he finished the tale.

He’d punched his own father’s jaw, apparently. Everyone laughed.

The Blade Dancer burst into laughter, Ziba let out childlike giggles, and her mother laughed too.

“So, was that the place where the Sky God lives? Or did Mother Earth smile down on me? Blade Dancer, seeing your face means I’m still on our stinking soil.”

Cracking jokes like that within half an hour of waking—that was a talent in itself.

“Outsider, they say that when you wake, you shouldn’t fuss or ask questions—just say thank you. Did you happen to catch Hira’s weakness?”

This guy was seriously funny.

“Do I look like I did?”

“Or did you charm her with that face? Hara, I didn’t think she was that easy.”

The man laughed and joked.

Later, after hearing the phrase “human totem,” Enkrid forced himself to rise and bowed his head.

“Thank you. If I’d died like that, it would’ve been bitter. Outsider, I’ll repay your dedication one day.”

A few more woke up like that.

And Enkrid, watching Owl and the people around her, got a glimpse of how the Westerners lived.

The great lake, the sun-shield clouds, the motherly sunset—all of it.

He also saw the long stretching ridgeline known as Meetorong.

He was lightly training inside the camp when he heard a voice.

“Hu-man!”

Thunder crashed outside the tent. But this thunder spoke. It nearly tore through his eardrums.

Enkrid stood and looked out. The tent flap was open.

Beyond the entrance, a huge head and a set of bulging eyes came into view.

Its sheer size defied perspective.

It was a giant.

Enkrid had heard of them before. There were two giants threatening the entire tribe.

Beasts far stronger than the level of a junior knight.

When he turned his gaze forward, he locked eyes with Rem, who had just entered the tent.

Rem said,

“I’ve been looking for you—you weren’t anywhere.”

Rem turned his body, and Enkrid followed him outside.

They stopped in front of a flimsy fence made of cloth and wood.

“Bring me five humans. I’m hun-gry!”

A clueless giant bellowed.

Wearing thick furs, its black, mottled back was wide enough to crush an adult torso with a single swing.

The reason its club was black and blotched was because the blood of its victims had dried and crusted on it over days.

Every time the giant moved, a rank smell wafted out.

The stench of blood and base desire clung to it like a toxic perfume.

“Not an easy one,”

Lua Gharne said from behind. Frokk eyes could even assess a giant’s capability.

Of course, Enkrid could do the same.

He could see it too.

This one was born with strength beyond even most other giants.

Just as not all humans are the same, not all giants are either.

Two skilled giants had appeared today.

From what he remembered of this year’s horizon markers—it was exactly there.

Rem raised his axe to go out, but Enkrid stepped up beside him and grabbed his wrist.

“You want to fight together?”

“No.”

Then what? Rem asked with his eyes.

Enkrid stepped forward and said,

“I’ll do it alone.”

Rem had eyes—he could tell this wouldn’t be easy.

But alone?

Enkrid didn’t repeat himself.

He just kept walking forward