Capítulo 133: Chapter 285 - The Language of the West
[Extra chapter]
As Enkrid pressed forward against the cult's forces, Shinar also moved.
She took twenty of her fastest and most dexterous subordinates and circled the outer edges of the battlefield.
Their role was that of snipers.
The twenty soldiers did not participate in the front-line battle. Instead, they observed the flow of the battle and analyzed the enemy's composition as they moved.
Meanwhile, Shinar, with the keen sensitivity acquired through countless experiences in battle, began to read the flow of the fight.
She distinguished and identified the sounds she heard, honing in on her target.
Thus, the first target was confirmed.
"Let's go."
The selected subordinates followed her.
Shinar's group swiftly circled the battlefield's outer edge and struck from one side.
"Shit, they're crazy!"
The enemy soldiers responded fiercely. The twenty managed to hold them off and endure.
Their combat abilities were exceptional, though not extraordinary.
They were elite, but not on the level of frontier defense soldiers.
However, Shinar was different.
While the enemy's focus was distracted by her twenty soldiers, she leapt up and crushed the head of one of the enemy soldiers.
She pushed off the ground, soaring upward with ease, as if someone were pulling her from above.
It felt as though she had wings.
She crushed the enemy's head beneath her foot, and with the tips of her toes, she struck at their throat.
Thunk!
With the blade hidden beneath her boots, she pierced the soldier's neck, then pulled out her knives.
The shining leaf-shaped blade reflected the light as it was drawn. She casually stabbed downward a few times.
Clang, thud, whack.
The unlucky soldier whose helmet was struck wobbled and fell to the side.
The second soldier, on bad terms with the goddess of fortune, had his forehead torn, blood spilling from his face as he collapsed.
All of this happened just before the soldier she had stepped on died.
Shinar yanked her knives and struck at the spear that flew toward her.
The spear's shaft was split by her knives. The spearhead was lost, and the short staff remained.
The soldier, now holding the staff instead of the spear, raised his shield.
Rather than parrying with the shield, Shinar stomped on it and dashed forward.
She was like an arrow aimed at her target.
She crushed three more heads, shields, and shoulders beneath her feet, lightly landing as her next target appeared in front of her.
Her finely tuned hearing had led her to her next target: the commander. Specifically, the commander of a small detachment, the head controlling a portion of the forces.
"Stop them!"
The commander's shout was hollow. The moment he shouted, his throat was pierced by Shinar's knives.
Twisting her waist, she shot out her blade, snapping her arm as if flicking it. It was the "skipping stone thrust," one of Shinar's specialties.
One of the reasons the Tarning Viscount's unit was able to hold together was because of these commanders in strategic positions.
That day, Shinar took down three more of such commanders.
***
"That crazy fairy bitch!"
An upper-level commander watching the battle ground his teeth and shouted.
Of course, he did so while doubling the number of guards.
Simultaneous strikes.
Krais had aimed for this.
One side was to attack the supplies, the other to target the commanders.
He wanted to deliver the largest possible blow to the enemy forces coming from both directions.
Shinar had accomplished her task, earning a few scratches in the process.
'Am I doing well?'
She thought as she wiped the blood from her knives.
How were Enkrid and his forces faring?
Had the joke turned into reality?
'To think his face would appear right after the battle ends.'
Shinar felt something dull inside her, but she smiled.
This too was a part of life, a part of the enjoyment.
That man had a strange kind of magic. It wasn't the kind that cast spells, but one that made you watch and cheer him on. It was only natural that he would be on her mind.
"Retreat."
As she finished her task and began the return, under the noonday sun, the fairy thought of the human.
It wasn't merely a feeling between rational beings. It was more of an expectation of what one human could achieve.
'How far will he go?'
The fairy silently wondered. Naturally, there was no answer.
***
If one remains in a constant state of tension, the body will stiffen. A stiffened body finds it difficult to perform at its usual level.
"Muscle growth and stamina growth are the same. Just as mindless training is important, rest is equally so. Only after resting will your strength and stamina improve."
These were Audin's words.
Enkrid reflected on these words. Through the battle, he gained another small insight and pondered it.
It was the balance of tension and relaxation.
What if, even during battle, there were moments to loosen the body?
He had noticed this when watching Ragna and Jaxen.
Jaxen seemed to put no strain on his body unless swinging his sword, while Ragna seemed to strike without exerting force, even as he constantly wielded his blade.
Audin was the same.
Dunbakel and Teresa had similar habits as well.
The elasticity and rhythm that result from controlling tension and relaxation.
Resting improves stamina.
Resting also enhances strength.
Could swordsmanship be similar?
"Rest is important."
Audin had said this countless times, but it had never fully resonated with him. That small phrase had only now sunk into his skin and taken root in his innermost being.
As soon as he thought about it, he was able to put it into practice. This battle had become his learning ground.
"What if I relax even more?"
Self-reflection and accurate understanding were crucial, and for Enkrid, it was as natural as breathing.
Thus, through this self-reflection, he discovered the beginning of relaxation.
It was the first ability he had gained through repetition of the day.
"The Heart of the Beast."
Boldness was needed when blades clashed, and even when quarrels targeted the head, he learned to appropriately rest his muscles and control his breathing.
It was also the way to fight long battles. If one were to face many with a small force, managing stamina was essential.
Of course, Enkrid's stamina was monstrous.
Compared to ordinary soldiers, he possessed an endurance that was beyond comprehension.
But even he wasn't invincible.
From that perspective:
"Rem will be fine."
This thought came naturally.
Who had taught him the Heart of the Beast?
Who was the one that often spouted nonsense during the battle?
He was a master of relaxation.
"That's not a master of relaxation. He's just clueless."
Enkrid spoke his thoughts aloud, and Jaxen responded from the side.
"He's just an idiot."
Ragna also commented.
"When he's about to strike, it seems like his muscles are all tensed."
Dunbakel added her criticism, while Teresa said nothing.
Then Audin spoke.
"Are you worried about the barbarian brother?"
Worry? About Rem? The monster with gray hair? The one who would chop up any demon he encountered with his axe and return?
"Me?"
Enkrid briefly searched for the right words before asking with a serious tone.
Did he look like someone who would worry?
Audin smiled softly.
"If there is bitterness in your heart, your eyes become clouded. If there is worry, your thoughts will follow that path. Focus solely on the lord, erase the bitterness, and praise your lord. Thus, you will find peace in your heart."
Audin recited a prayer. Teresa, beside him, muttered, "Find peace," repeating Audin's last words.
Though her face was hidden behind a mask, she seemed to be deep in thought.
It seemed awkward to face the cult again.
Wasn't her original allegiance with this side?
She had mentioned she was born and raised there.
Her heart might have been uneasy.
Enkrid glanced at Teresa and reflected on whether he was really concerned.
"Impossible."
Why would he worry about that insane Rem?
But something bothered him. There was a subtle discomfort.
"Why?"
He was withdrawing. There were no signs of being pursued. No comrades had been struck by a blind arrow. Naturally, no one was injured.
Everything had happened in the blink of an eye.
An ambush, a raid, arson, retreat.
They hadn't needed to move under the cover of night, it had all been done in broad daylight. And it had been done quickly. The deaths of the scouts he had sent out hadn't even reached them before they finished.
So why did he feel uneasy?
He was used to self-reflection, so retracing his steps was familiar as well.
"They were too weak."
The wolf pack, which should have been a formidable threat, had been easy to deal with.
"Did the cult not know about our forces?"
That was unlikely.
Then why did it feel so vulnerable?
Enkrid recalled the time when Marcus had hidden their unit well.
"Making it seem weak means there's something hidden."
The cult's forces were not all there was.
Which meant…
"The black Blade also hides something."
After considering a few things, the conclusion came naturally. Could Krais not know this?
"No, he knows."
He knew, which was why he had set up this strategy.
Before the enemy could unleash all their hidden moves, he wanted to wear them down and take whatever could be taken.
That had been the core of this supply-burning operation.
"If he desperately hopes for death, he'll be back."
With a single comment about worry, Jaxen added, his eyes indifferent. Looking into those red eyes, Enkrid nodded.
"I know."
There was no need for worry. Who was he even worrying about? Behind him remained the insane barbarian, Rem.
***
Rem admitted that he had become excited.
Everything begins with recognition.
Only after acknowledging and recognizing something can there be change.
If you have a tendency to get excited easily, you must recognize that in order to remain calm.
"Are all beasts the same? No. But the beasts that survive all share the same characteristics."
This was something he had been told when he first learned about hunting.
It's not about having longer fangs or sharper claws.
Whether it's a lion running across the plains or a tiger ruling the mountains, the reason they survive is because they know something.
And if you want to know something, the starting point is always yourself.
You recognize your own claws, leg strength, and endurance. That's where it begins.
'In that sense, the boss is really unique.'
He is someone who knows what he is capable of and what level he is at, but his body couldn't keep up. Or, it didn't used to.
But now it's different. His skills had grown to a level where they became threatening.
Watching that had sometimes felt like a stroke of luck.
Knowledge, change, and the mix of reasons that had come to the surface after just a few days of stillness.
Rem's excitement surged, and he couldn't help but feel a little exhilarated.
He understood the situation, recognized himself, and didn't hide it.
"Damn idiot mutts."
The three wolf beasts that charged at him were different from before.
Speed, strength, and the level of intelligence they used were extraordinary.
Are all beasts the same?
No, there are always exceptional ones among them.
The three beasts were just like that.
Faster than expected, and incredibly clever.
To quickly deal with them, Rem allowed himself to be scratched lightly on the side.
He let the claws brush past him.
In that instant, he swung his axe and split the head of one of the beasts in half.
The blood and brain matter splattered, momentarily blurring his vision, but Rem didn't blink, using the remaining axe to sever the neck of the beast whose head had been split.
He swatted the split head away with his palm, sending it flying.
As the head soared through the air, one of the remaining beasts sidestepped, and Rem, anticipating this, threw his axe.
The axe flew, spinning like a disc, and buried itself deep in the skull of the wolf beast that had just dodged.
The simultaneous action of throwing the axe and the wolf beast rushing toward him was deliberate.
Now, only one remained.
Rem twisted his mouth into a grin. A full smile.
"Monster!"
"Freaking monster!"
"May the curse of the magic realm fall upon you! May the master of the beasts devour you whole!"
The cultists watching from the side kept babbling.
"What the hell are you saying, crazy fanatics? Come at me."
Rem grumbled as he shifted his axe to his other hand.
"Hey, mutt, aren't you coming?"
The last wolf beast lowered its stance and bared its fangs, its eyes glaring with deadly intent. In the meantime, one of the cultists threw a dagger.
Without taking his eyes off the wolf beast, Rem merely nodded and dodged the dagger.
In that moment, the beast pounced.
There was no sound as it charged. The wind brushed against his nose first.
It shot toward him with incredible speed and ferocity, its large body lowering just enough for Rem to gauge its position.
As the wolf beast lunged, Rem swung his axe even faster than before.
Whoosh.
Among the onlookers, few could properly track Rem's movement.
His right arm and the axe disappeared in a blur, moving from the upper right to the lower left.
He had been swinging casually before, but now he struck with all his might.
The beast couldn't react. Its throat was cut in mid-pounce, blood spraying everywhere.
However, the remaining momentum caused the beast to slam into Rem.
Rem swiped his axe and stepped aside, shoving the beast's body away.
The wolf beast's corpse landed with a thud, blocking the path of the cultists.
Rem, still smiling, looked at them and said, "See you again."
Though it seemed like a normal farewell, to the cultists, it was as chilling as a death sentence.
They had to face that monster again?
Rem withdrew, picking up his axe as he ran.
'Let's see.'
A scratch on his side, maybe a cracked rib?
Rem calmly assessed his condition. It wasn't a major injury. Considering he had just sliced through three monstrous wolf beasts that would be considered demons anywhere, it was nothing too serious.
A few of the cultists had tried to pursue, but they were just pretending.
"Want another axe to the face?"
Rem shouted over his shoulder, his words dripping with menace.
He was about to find Enkrid to boast about his victory over the three wolf beasts, which could be considered monstrous.
'They'll probably be so shocked they'll ask me to teach them again.'
As he had those thoughts, Rem's body swerved to the side. With a powerful push of his right foot, he halted his forward movement, executing an impossible maneuver with the kind of leg strength and balance that seemed inhuman.
He turned abruptly, moving at a right angle.
Whoosh!
A spear, the length of his forearm, pierced the ground where he had just been.
The spear lodged deep, quivering in the earth.
It was stuck so firmly that it would take considerable strength to pull it out.
Rem's eyes locked onto the shape of the spear.
Familiar. No, not familiar anymore, but once it was.
It was a spear commonly used by the tribes from the West.
"Looks like I'm seeing my own kind here?"
Then, a voice came from behind him.
It wasn't the Empire's language but the tongue of the Western tribes.
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TL here! Thank you for reading!
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