Chapter 686: A Bit of a Detour

"That's honestly just childish."

It was Anne. She tilted her head upward with only one corner of her mouth curled in a crooked smirk. There was a glint in her eye.

Standing beneath the drooping sunlight, the alchemist grinned with a twisted smile—not one of evil, but likely a mask to withstand the malice directed her way.

"Did they really think I wouldn’t be able to drink the water? Seriously?"

There wasn’t an enemy directly in front of them, yet Anne spoke as if there was.

"You pitiful bastard, lacking in both power and imagination. Did you think I’d fall for this? That I’d back down?"

Was it the desperate howl of the weak, or the roar of someone who had steeled their resolve?

Let’s call it a roar.

That’s how Enkrid saw it.

"Now then, Captain. When I came alone to Border Guard, do you really think I relied purely on luck?"

At first, he had thought so. She herself said she'd been lucky.

But she was a girl who couldn’t wield a sword and had no group to rely on, yet had pierced through the continent to reach Border Guard—the city whose very name meant “boundary.”

Reaching the continent’s outskirts alone was nearly impossible. By probability alone, her arrival should’ve been next to impossible.

She must have had some kind of method.

That’s how Anne always was. Even when she stepped into the Mad Squad’s training yard, she never came empty-handed.

Even during research, wherever her hands reached, she kept a few reagents or drugs or those little chewable pills she rolled into balls.

Enkrid kept a sword beside him even in his sleep. Even if it wasn’t ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the blade gifted by Aitri, he always carried a weapon on him.

What my sword is to me, that bag must be to her.

Anne unlatched the clasp on the bag she slung over her back and hip and reached inside. What came out was a small, flat, round blue pill no bigger than a pinky nail.

"I’m an alchemist and a healer."

Anne murmured. It almost sounded like a bard’s song. With a bit of melody, it could’ve been one. Her tone matched the rhythm perfectly.

She dropped the pill into a canteen filled with tainted water. Before a full breath could pass, a blue smoke rose from the opening—and vanished just as quickly.

Anne lifted the canteen to her lips and drank.

No one stopped her. What Anne was doing now was like one of Ragna’s sword strikes—full of confidence. The kind of strike that, even if it were wrong, was swung with the resolve to force it into being right.

Everyone watched Anne’s throat as she drank. Gulp, gulp.

“Phew.”

Anne exhaled sharply after downing it.

“It’s safe to drink. What a pathetic trick.”

Acknowledged.

Enkrid nodded and took the canteen.

Gulp. Nothing wrong with the taste.

Anne must have used more than just water-purifying pills to get to Border Guard alone.

There were drugs to mask one's scent from monsters, or ones that put people to sleep.

“There’s too many to explain one by one.”

That was the last thing Anne said during the explanation. Enkrid didn’t press her, nor did he ask who had questioned her in the first place.

He saw her hand tremble faintly.

Could someone feel safe just by being among knights?

Anne, who faced hostility and malice directly, likely couldn’t.

But she won’t just sit there and take it.

She could also show that she wasn’t someone easily trifled with.

However, the enemy had once again proven themselves to be no ordinary madman.

"Full stop."

It hadn’t even been half a day since they began up the mountain path when Enkrid caught a stinging, sour scent.

"Poison mist? Looks like some sort of spell."

Grida said, staring ahead.

"Yeah, I see it."

Magrun replied. Ragna, meanwhile, just stared expressionlessly. Their enemy wanted to weaponize time, and Ragna hated that more than anything.

Enkrid saw the dark green mist blocking their way.

Having seen it, he didn't waste time deliberating.

"A detour?"

“There is one.”

Magrun answered immediately.

Enkrid gave Ragna a glance, and Ragna turned his back to Anne.

"Get on."

“Yes.”

Anne seemed already mentally prepared and climbed onto his back. Ragna threw his greatsword, and Enkrid caught it.

He couldn’t carry Anne and his back-mounted sword at the same time.

“Let’s pick up the pace, Magrun.”

“Understood.”

No more words were needed. Their course, which would have simply taken them over a small ridge, now stretched sideways.

Magrun took the lead while Grida spread out to the right, running to detect other tricks or ambushes.

And sure enough—there were more tricks. The enemy had picked only the most annoying ones.

"My sense of direction is off."

Grida came to a stop and spoke. They stood before three trees tangled like conjoined twins, their leaves jagged and sharp.

The incline continued upward, and the increasing number of trees made it obvious they were now deep within the mountain.

There was no path here meant for people. But since Ragna was carrying Anne, even this terrain had become passable for the group.

Magrun was slicing branches ahead with his sword to clear the way.

Things had been going well—until Grida stopped.

Enkrid was about to turn north but stopped.

This feels like when I got lost in the desert.

Even looking at the sky, he couldn’t tell the direction. His intuition was failing him.

“It’s a curse.”

Enkrid said. Grida and Magrun nodded, and Ragna tilted his head.

“You’re saying you can’t tell directions? I feel fine.”

Grida scoffed and replied dryly.

“Little brother, it’s a curse. It’s messing with our sense of direction. You might not get it, but try.”

“What nonsense is that? Magrun, we just need to head north, right?”

“Correct.”

Magrun replied—but his eyes held unease. Why wouldn’t they? He’d heard the stories of Ragna’s exploits. Even while watching the sunrise, the man had once gotten lost. It was awe-inspiring.

A guy like that actually exists?

Wasn’t he the same guy who’d gone missing for a whole month trying to meet up with someone?

“It’s this way. North.”

Ragna declared with confidence. Anne, pale on his back, weakly spoke up.

“Maybe... don’t volunteer for pathfinding. Please.”

A curse couldn’t be avoided by alchemy. Nor unraveled by a knight’s senses. In a way, they’d been thoroughly caught.

So the poison mist’s true purpose was this.

Enkrid caught a glimpse into the mind of whoever was responsible—whether mage or shaman.

Block the path with poison mist.

Should they risk breaking through? Anne might have an antidote.

But we’ll likely avoid it anyway.

The mountain was vast, with plenty of paths up.

And they had four knights. Excellent mobility.

They could just walk around rather than risk poison.

The enemy probably predicted they’d avoid it.

If their route had shifted, Magrun would lead them down the fastest alternative.

Which means the enemy laid this curse along that very route.

And Enkrid realized one more thing.

Whoever laid this knows the local paths well.

They knew the routes between Zaun and the continent.

In short—it had to be someone from the Zaun family.

“Not many people pass through here, right?”

Enkrid asked, concluding his train of thought.

“Isn’t that obvious? If they’re not from Zaun, they’d have no reason to. Didn’t think the road home would be this rough.”

Magrun didn’t even glance at the direction Ragna pointed to. Clearly, no one had any intention of following him.

Even having lost their sense of direction, they didn’t trust Ragna.

Enkrid alone thought differently.

“How do you know that’s north?”

Ragna supported Anne with one hand and tapped the side of his temple with his index and middle finger.

“Intuition.”

“Take the lead.”

Everyone turned to stare at Enkrid as if he’d lost his mind.

“Are you crazy?”

“Hey, are we giving up now?”

Magrun and Grida spoke in turns. Even Anne, on Ragna’s back, looked shaken.

“Are you okay? Did the poison get to you?”

Anne asked.

Enkrid didn’t offer a comforting excuse.

“If it turns out wrong, we just backtrack and find another route. What, you want to stay here? For how long? Until the curse wears off?”

Stopping was exactly what the enemy wanted. So they’d do the opposite.

Hadn’t they all gotten lost in the desert once, then learned from it?

About how to navigate?

“We navigate by the stars.”

Ragna had said that. And if no stars were visible, he relied on intuition.

Jaxon followed sound and smell. Rem once mentioned desert guides who walked the “wind path.”

Ragna may not be one of them.

But if needed—he could find the way. Just like he had in Naurill.

Enkrid chose to trust that instinct.

“I knew the captain would believe in me. My sword, please.”

Ragna said, stretching his hand out. He lowered Anne and took back his greatsword.

Anne clutched her trembling thigh, giving Enkrid a look that asked if he was seriously going through with this. Ragna walked forward in his own absurd fashion.

Magrun and Grida had always turned away when the path ahead was blocked.

But Ragna didn’t know how to do that.

The moment he decided north was “there,” he went straight.

“That’s a cliff, you lunatic!”

Grida shouted. But Ragna ignored it entirely, swinging his greatsword and felling several trees.

Thunk!

The massive trunks crashed down, taking out smaller ones in their path.

Several trees were stripped of their roots and shamefully exposed their pale underbellies.

“This is north.”

And so he carved his way forward.

Rocks? He leapt over them. Trees? He cut through them.

Eventually they reached a cliff—but Ragna just started sliding down it.

“...We’re going down there?”

Anne asked. She looked like her face had been dipped in blue dye.

“Get on.”

Ragna had made the path, so this time Enkrid carried her.

“It feels like my resolve is being shaved away.”

Anne said solemnly, sounding doubtful.

“Once we’re out of the cursed area, north or not doesn’t matter.”

Enkrid whispered.

The enemy wanted to buy time here. So they’d do the opposite.

Ragna used his body and physical prowess to descend the steep cliff. Sometimes he dug his greatsword into the wall for support.

They were knights.

This much wouldn’t make them fall. It was a given.

“Is this really the right move...?”

Grida murmured.

As a guide, she had been trained to stop and carefully recheck the direction in situations like this.

But with these maniacs, that was impossible.

Ragna led with brute force. By the time the sun had set and the darkness had consumed the woods, they had exited the curse’s range.

They’d scaled a cliff, climbed another, felled over twenty trees, and crossed a small rocky mountain.

Of course—it wasn’t north.

They had emerged on the western side. Now they’d need to backtrack a bit.

But still—it was impressive.

Anyone else would’ve been spinning in circles, lost.

Even knights would’ve taken much longer.

Ragna’s decisiveness had cut down wasted time.

“In a way, it’s impressive.”

Grida remarked. Ragna nodded, as if it were only natural. But the way he looked around made it clear he had no idea where they were.

Magrun began navigating again.

“Our destination was the Hunter’s Village, right?”

Enkrid asked.

Zaun had a few surrounding villages. The Hunter’s Village was one. The others were the Retiree’s Village and the Broker’s Village.

Their target was the Hunter’s Village to the south. Not the fastest path to Zaun, but a natural stop along the route.

“Correct.”

Magrun answered. Without hesitation, Enkrid asked the next question.

“Is there a direct route to Zaun?”

If he were the mage or shaman, he’d’ve laid more traps ahead.

Dozens, if he had the time.

So—why walk right into them?

When they’d seen the mist and the curse, there had been no sign of Odinkar passing through.

If Odinkar came first...

Then the spells would’ve already been spent, leaving only traces.

Nothing is perfect. Not even spells or curses.

They’re one-time uses—vanish after being triggered.

Poison mists and direction-altering curses were powerful. Not suitable for constant activation.

Therefore...

“We change course.”

Changing their path would remove them from enemy predictions.

Upon hearing that, Magrun looked at Anne and said,

“Carrying her through rough terrain might be too much.”

He meant Anne wouldn’t be able to endure it.

Anne answered herself.

“If I take a sleeping pill and Ragna ties me tight to his back, it’ll be fine.”

Her determination was unwavering.

“So be it.”

Enkrid shrugged. Their destination—and route—shifted slightly.

Ragna finally stopped scanning the surroundings and spoke.

“That was a bit of a detour.”

Bit, my ass.

If that was a “bit,” then any more and they’d be on their way to Rihinstetten in the south instead of Zaun.

Magrun almost cursed out loud—but kept his mouth shut.

They had gotten out, after all.