Chapter 497

Bang!

Enkrid reflexively swung Acker.

The motion was a diagonal slash from bottom to top. For a fleeting moment, Enkrid saw Rem smiling.

With an explosive boom, a cloud of dust rippled out in concentric circles between the two. The shockwave sent some of the spectators falling flat on their backs. Between the clashing axe and sword, their eyes met.

Blue eyes and gray eyes.

“You blocked that?”

Rem asked. There was a wildness behind his smiling face, a violent energy that seemed like he might tear someone’s throat out at any moment.

“Was I supposed to just take it quietly?”

Rrrrr.

As he responded, Enkrid’s foot was pushed back slightly. The stone under his heel cracked with a loud pop.

Even while trading words, neither of them relaxed their strength.

Rem was quietly impressed.

That axe strike just now—it resembled Oara’s swordsmanship.

The technique was different, but the power behind it was the same.

In other words, a knight’s blow.

And Enkrid had blocked it. With a knight’s blow of his own? No.

Rem recognized the technique Enkrid had used in that split-second clash.

He had raised his sword to receive the force, diverted part of the impact with his solid wrists, then bent his knees and ankles to absorb the rest.

He blocked Rem’s axe, a blow powerful enough to be called a knight’s strike, by combining physical conditioning and refined technique.

If he were anyone else, his wrists would have snapped and the bones would’ve burst through the skin.

But his solid wrists, with tendons and muscle like armor, compensated for any flaw in the deflection.

This was even more remarkable than some trick labeled a knight’s blow.

At this level, he wouldn’t even be overwhelmed in a fight against a ghoul like before.

How could Rem not be impressed?

“Ahh, seriously—don’t die, alright?”

Rem said with a grin, and his canines looked longer than before.

And then the axe vanished from Enkrid’s view.

His eye that had been sensing one step ahead had been blocked.

Panic would’ve meant a quick end. That was the first lesson he'd learned when facing death on the battlefield.

He endured with boldness, and the beast’s heart beat within him.

Enkrid raised Acker vertically.

He pushed his senses to the limit—as if trying to spot a needle dropped in the sand.

A technique of heightened perception.

A blade-like intuition, sharp and blue, found the axe—it was above, to the left.

Enkrid stepped back with his right foot and struck upward with his sword.

Before either elbow fully extended, the blade and the axe met.

Clang!

Another explosive boom rang out.

In that instant, Enkrid twisted his sword and tried to wrap it around, while Rem drove his axe downward and kicked out.

A foot launched like a thrown spear—Rem’s foot slammed into Enkrid’s abdomen like a spearhead, followed by a burst of air.

Boom!

If that hit cleanly, his guts and everything else would be pulverized at once.

Enkrid twisted his body just barely in time. Instead, part of his armor tore apart like it had exploded.

Armor made from beastkin hide—utterly shredded by Rem’s kick.

It hadn’t even been scratched by regular sword slashes, yet here it was, torn to ribbons.

“Yeehaw!”

Rem shouted. He looked almost intoxicated.

The axe turned into a beam of light and came flying.

Enkrid reacted again.

He burst open his Heart of Might and swung his sword downward.

It was a trained and refined skill that he had honed through repeated understanding—

Weapon Deflection.

A technique that redirects an incoming strike by swinging the sword at a similar angle, altering its trajectory midway—combining the finesse of deflecting swordplay with the weight of a heavy blade.

Thud!

The axe and sword met again.

This time, however, the shock was lighter. Enkrid felt the sensation in his hands was almost featherlight.

In that same moment, a different blade—not the axe aimed at his neck—came flying.

Whoosh!

Enkrid leaned his head back. In the spot where his neck had been, he saw a line slicing through the air.

In Rem’s left hand was now a dagger—a Western-style blade known as a karambit.

Rem’s face briefly came into view, holding the reverse-grip dagger. His mouth was hidden behind the curved blade, but his eyes were visible. The way they slanted suggested a smile.

Stop and die.

The Enkrid who once closed his eyes in fear of death was gone. He brought his sword down immediately.

From one point to another—

The connecting line of his descending blade became a white lightning bolt.

“Hiya!”

With a roar that was part scream, Rem raised his axe from below to meet the white lightning.

***

The result of the duel? He lost.

But it wasn’t just a plain loss—he put up a good fight.

“How was it?”

Removing sweat, dust, and hair from his face, Enkrid answered,

“Not bad.”

Win or lose, his demeanor always remained confident.

It wasn’t a battle of life and death—it was a spar.

And he learned something. No—he witnessed something incredibly unusual.

Why the hell doesn’t this mad bastard have any preparatory movement?

“It’s called feather-axing. It’s a little different than when using a toy.”

Rem chuckled.

The axe spun in his hand with surprising ease—at least to the eye. But to Enkrid, who had just stood against it, it didn’t look light at all.

Calling a Lewis-forged axe a toy… whoever made it might shed tears. But Rem looked thrilled.

He seemed completely high off his latest win—even after beating Enkrid so many times before.

“I am the hero Rem!”

“Best shaman in the land, is that it? Alright, alright, save the praise.”

“Again? Come at me anytime.”

“Hahahaha. You’re feeling strong, huh? What, you think that’s news?”

“Feather-axing isn’t something you can learn by training. You gotta start with shamanic arts—but don’t bother. Learning shamanism’d be useless to you anyway.”

With both hands on his hips, he rambled on all by himself.

Enkrid hadn’t said a word, but Rem just kept going like he was having the time of his life.

And then—why was he suddenly tilting his head toward the sky like that?

“Lua.”

“What?”

The Frokk who had recently started shivering more often answered Enkrid’s call.

“Where’s the nearest temple?”

Enkrid figured something in Rem’s head had broken after taking in that shamanic power. He was way too excited.

Maybe he needed an Audin-style treatment—a hammer to the skull might be exactly what Rem needed right now.

“Hahahaha!”

Rem was still laughing loudly.

Is he really that happy about beating me?

Enkrid couldn’t help but wonder.

Not that he was trembling with defeat or anything.

He was just reviewing what he could learn.

Same as always.

“Uhhaha! Alright, let’s go again.”

“Sure, teach me another move.”

“Just one? I’ll teach you twenty. Ahem.”

Rem stuck his nose even higher in the air. If you faced him directly, all you’d see was his chin.

Usually, he looked half-insane. Now he looked fully gone.

That day, they sparred three more times.

The twins, who had been watching, were amazed at how Enkrid kept charging in until the very edge of collapse, then flopped to the ground.

Lua Gharne was trembling, repeating over and over the words she wanted to say to Enkrid.

Dunbakel watched Rem with a grim face—

—because she could feel that crazed energy was going to spread to her, too.

“You dumb bastard, wait right there! I’m coming to slit your damn throat!”

Rem roared.

He’d apparently found the shamanic power days ago—but for some reason, he was only roaring about it now.

Enri had thought he was nuts before.

But seeing him now, she realized—

He wasn’t just strange.

He was truly insane.

A lunatic, no extra adjectives needed.

“Captain, uh… isn’t Rem kind of dangerous?”

She quietly came up to Enkrid and said.

Enkrid replied with a question of his own.

“Are you a noble?”

“What? No, of course not.”

Then why the hell would she be hunting out here if she was?

“Then you’re fine.”

And why, exactly, is that fine?

“If you’re not a noble, he usually doesn’t bite.”

Enkrid added, and Enri furrowed her brow.

She had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

Enkrid just had too much on his mind and said the first thing that came to him.

Rem’s axe technique didn’t match any trajectory he’d ever known.

‘How did he do it?’

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

There was no prep motion, and yet the force behind it exceeded even the Heart of Might.

He’d been infused with shamanic power, which clearly boosted his strength and speed.

His observational ability—everything had leveled up.

Fine. So this was what it felt like to face a knight empowered with Will. That much, he understood.

But what about the axe that came flying with no preparatory motion?

That was what blocked his ability to see a step ahead.

He had no time to shift the fight into a battle of minds.

No matter how much you think about it, you can’t understand everything.

Trying to infer the process from the result was still not easy.

Can you mimic Oara’s sword just by seeing it once?

If not, then this was the same.

Even Shinar’s precision blade technique couldn’t be copied just by watching it.

Rem's axe strike—it started to make some sense once Enkrid sat down and thought it through.

He was swinging without thinking.

It was the same method as before, which is why he’d been able to pick up on it.

‘Since he doesn’t think before moving, there’s no discernible attack line.’

He strikes, slams, and breaks whatever he sees.

What’s he relying on? His own combat instinct.

‘The moment his mind moves, his hand follows.’

That absurd power lets him swing the axe in his hand like it’s a twig, making it fall before the opponent even has time to respond.

Every swing was like that. No—his kicks and punches too.

His entire body was a weapon.

Could someone become like that just by learning shamanic power?

‘Of course not.’

There were years of training his body, a moment of enlightenment with technique, and on top of that—shamanism.

Which meant, for Rem, shamanism was merely a tool to aid what he wanted to do.

And Will? Will was likely the same.

Just having resolve doesn’t mean everything you think will magically happen.

In the end, the body had to move. That’s what turned intent into action.

Enkrid, still seated, added what he learned from Rem to what he’d previously realized.

Today’s three sparring matches wouldn’t be the last. There was still more to learn, and that time would come.

And Enkrid liked that so much—it made him laugh.

“Ha ha ha.”

Unable to hold in the joy and excitement, he laughed aloud.

“Khuhuhu, you damn stray cat, I’m coming for you.”

Rem bent backward and laughed along.

“Kurururuu.”

Next to them, Lua Gharne puffed up her cheeks, trembling.

“Nyahaha.”

And beside her, a scruffy beastkin laughed too—so Enkrid laughed with them.

There was no unease. He didn’t feel like Rem was going to do anything to him. Everything was just fine.

Enri looked at them and had a moment of ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ doubt. Was it really okay to trust Enkrid and go through with this plan?

‘Is this the right choice?’

She didn’t know. But the dice had already been cast.

Still smiling, Enkrid inspected Acker’s blade.

Thanks to those mindless axe strikes, three notches had chipped out of the blade—one of the finest swords around.

He’d need to find a good whetstone and polish it thoroughly.

“But was it really okay to give away the bow like that?”

Having calmed down, Rem asked offhandedly.

The bow he gave to Enri was not only a rare item—it was also a gift.

“She saved my life. I think the one who gave it would understand.”

Enkrid answered as he applied flax oil to his sword.

Archery didn’t suit him. He had no dreams of it, no training.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to shoot a bow—but it wasn’t a weapon he needed.

If he could offer it in exchange for a life, there was nothing better.

And Enri had saved his life.

“So when are we heading out?”

“At dawn tomorrow.”

Enkrid answered, then washed up, lay down, and went to sleep.

After a full rest, he had a hearty breakfast and packed some emergency rations.

Left behind with a single Bellopter, Enri lowered her head.

The Bellopter, which she had spent her fortune to buy, now felt like a symbol of luck.

This creature had sniffed out fortune, guided her path, and ultimately helped save Enkrid.

“I’m glad we met again.”

“We’ll meet again, won’t we?”

“What? Ah, yes. If things go well, yes—I’ll stop by Border Guard.”

Enri, the former hunter, had cut her hair short and now gave off a composed, reliable impression.

“So why were you here, Enri?”

Rem asked only now, right before they left.

Enri just chuckled, but Enkrid answered honestly.

“Got dumped.”

“Ah.”

Rem nodded. So, he’d been rejected.

“…Captain, being dumped by a widow was just the trigger. After wandering a bit, I figured forming a trade company was the right move.”

Enri added, but no one really listened.

He had become a man who found a new path through the pain of rejection.

“Alright, we’re off. Twins—help Enri out a bit.”

The twins nodded.

Rem looked at Owl.

“If I die, don’t forget to let her know.”

Owl looked at Enkrid, who stood behind Rem, and replied after some hesitation.

“Does Rem look like someone who’d just die?”

“Just going out for some fun.”

Rem responded to Enkrid’s words in the lightest tone imaginable.

The emotions behind that farewell weren’t light, but both of them were cheerful.

There was no sorrow, no pain, no dread.

No anxiety about parting. They’d meet again. They had things to do in their own places.

They had that kind of trust between them.

Owl nodded and hugged Rem once.

“I’ll name the baby myself.”

“Give it a cool name.”

“Sure.”

Whether it was friendship, love, or understanding—

Enkrid couldn’t say exactly what their relationship was.

He just thought of a more practical alternative.

Even if something went wrong, there was always a backup plan.

“If things go south, just come live at Border Guard.”

“I’ve got a lot of work to do in the West.”

Owl answered without a smile. She really did have a lot to do.

For now, food supply would be the first issue.

They’d burned everything trying to summon the Bird of Wish.

“Let’s go.”

Rem took the first step.

Enkrid, Lua Gharne, and Dunbakel followed.

It was time to go back.

***

“What is this?”

The chieftain of the Narae tribe looked at the smoked hams, dried fruits, and vegetables stacked before him and asked.

The merchant who had transported it here answered, standing with a bodyguard behind him.

“It is a gift from His Majesty the wise and noble King of Naurillia, and from the Lockfried Company under Border Guard.”

“Why?”

The merchant blinked.

Why? Because they told him to deliver it.

Getting here nearly killed him.

With a grumpy expression, he said,

“General Enkrid sent someone, didn’t he?”

Enkrid had written letters to those traveling between the West and the continent.

Crang and Kraiss had handled the rest on their own.

He said to send food, so they did—of course, after weighing all the factors.

Once the chieftain understood the situation, he cried again.

Lately, it seemed like he cried a lot—but he had every reason to.

Summer was coming to an end, and they couldn’t afford to go back to nomadic life. Hunger was waiting.

People might starve to death.

If the sheep stayed in one place, they’d eat all the grass.

So they had to move.

But then they had to worry about feed for their grazing cattle, too.

And if they couldn’t manage that, they would’ve had to butcher both sheep and cattle instead of the Bellopter—knowing full well it would only make next year harder.

But now, they didn’t have to.

“His Majesty hopes to establish diplomatic ties through this act. He asks that you kindly accept it.”

“Let’s do that.”

Crying, the chieftain nodded.

The merchant couldn’t help but wonder why a grown man was crying so much.

In the future, the chieftain would be buried in the sacred land—and the words “Chieftain of Tears” would be inscribed on his tombstone.

But that was a long, long time from now.

And so, the chieftain cried again today.