Chapter 248 - The Wild Horse With Blue Sweat

The centaur leader ran. This was no time to spare itself over a few wounds. It was a monster that had already fled twice before. Intelligence also meant knowing when to flee from danger. And so it fled. The monster recalled the first creature that had forced it to run. All manner of things lived deep within the place humans called the Demonic Realm. Of course, the centaur leader understood neither the Demonic Realm nor any geographical significance it held. It merely recalled the creature that had toyed with it. Two long arms. Anything caught in those hands was torn apart. The thing was called the Devouring Hands. It enjoyed tearing things apart even when it had no intention of eating them. THUD, CRACK! The leader forced its way through branches striking its shoulders. Black blood streamed from its right foreleg. The pain sharpened its mind, and the memories continued. It had escaped the Devouring Hands, crossed the boundary, and fought. Then it had lost and been chased away. Driven off by humans as well, it had finally arrived here. The monster kept repeating a single truth to itself. To survive was to be strong. What must it do to achieve that? Instinct spurred it on. 'Subjugate the wild horses on the plain and form a larger herd!' If a monster could have ambition, this was it. More precisely, proximity to humans was teaching it things. It possessed the intelligence to learn. It had learned to hide and build its strength. This time, it had also learned to gauge an enemy. From a human perspective, it was obvious that letting it escape would make it a greater threat. No, it was a definite threat. If the leader survived this time, it would subjugate every wild horse in the pastures. Then it would gather more monsters and demonic beasts.

* * *

'Letting it get away could be trouble.' His intuition told him so. Even without intuition, he understood it logically. People said that the longer monsters survived, the more devious they became. What did devious mean? Cunning and wicked. Add deceit and cunning to a monster's savagery, and... 'That could be one hell of a headache.' More importantly, this battle might serve as Dunbachel's funeral. He felt no guilt over the Beastman's death. But from the moment he accepted her into his command until the moment she left, she was his responsibility. It would have been different had he refused her, but he had already accepted her into his ranks. Having done so, it was only right to take responsibility. Death on the battlefield was naturally one's own responsibility, but surely what came afterward fell to the commander. Especially when Dunbachel had done this to save people. 'Why did she do it?'

If the Beastman was alive, that was the first question he wanted to ask her. Setting those brief thoughts aside, he concentrated on running. Leaves rushed toward his eyes, and roots protruded from the ground like traps. Everything served to slow his steps. The same was true for the centaur. Thanks to that, even if he could not catch it at once, he could keep it in sight. Breathing in short bursts, Encrid stepped onto a rounded root and slashed his dagger vertically at a branch blocking his view. PING. The dry branch snapped off, struck his shoulder, and bounced away. A twig grazed the edge of his face. A bead of blood welled on his cheek, only to fly backward as he raced on. Every part of the forest rushing toward him was an obstacle. The monster faced the same problem, but its hide and body were far thicker than a human's. It could smash through obstacles. And that was exactly what the leader did, ignoring most things as it ran. Encrid had long since torn off his helmet, which obstructed his vision, and thrown it. It had struck the creature's back, but the thing had not budged. The helmet had merely bounced off its back muscles with a thud. It had not even flinched. It seemed determined to flee. Of course, throwing while running had kept him from putting his full strength into it. 'Should I practice throwing while running?'

It would be useful at times like this. Something to consider later. Encrid wanted to catch it. His responsibility toward Dunbachel, the danger to come—he wanted to settle all of it here. At their current speed, they would soon leave the forest. Beyond it lay flat ground and pastures. This area had more wild horses than anywhere nearby. Once it reached that terrain, he would certainly lose it. 'No.'

He did not want to let it escape. He focused entirely on that one thing. Running, he activated Concentrate on a Single Point, and his five senses sharpened to an unprecedented degree. The Sixth Sense born of his dodging sense and his intuition stirred toward a single purpose. 'I won't lose it.' The instant he reaffirmed that desire, he saw a half-broken tree twenty paces ahead to his right: its bent shape and the twisted growth rings exposed by the break. His five senses surged wildly, revealing a path. The Will he had felt and awakened through refusal stirred, however faintly, and guided his body naturally along that path. With a light tap, he planted a foot against the tree to his right and sprang into the air. At the same time, he drove his knife into a thick branch overhead. His running momentum carried him forward. Releasing the knife, he caught the next branch like a monkey and swung forward again. After two swings through the air, he fell headfirst and threw his sword. It was not merely close to acrobatics. It was acrobatics. Bodily control gained through training that went beyond hardship and bordered on torture. The athletic ability it had developed, and the explosive strength of the Heart of the Superhuman. The boldness that held his honed body steady, and the Sixth Sense that used his sharpened five senses to predict what lay just ahead. All of it came together. He fused everything into one and expressed it through his body. To an onlooker, he would have seemed to spring up mid-run, beat through the air a couple of times, then fire a shaft of light. The fleeing centaur leader had just cleared the forest. Joy filled it.

'I've lost him!' Just as it broke through and took a step outside the forest, a sword lodged in its skull. Encrid's thrown sword pierced straight through its head. At that very instant, something slammed into the leader's flank with a thud. It looked like a black shadow. A prickling ache spread from Encrid's eyes through his head. He had concentrated too hard. More precisely, it was the result of Will activating in the realm of concentration, but he did not know that. Still falling shoulder-first, he twisted his body and broke his fall with a roll. Using that momentum, he braced his ankles and rose. He stopped on one knee and stared at the fallen creature with the sword through its head. It had been knocked sideways because something had charged in and rammed it. Its body trembled as it became a corpse. Or was it dead already? Encrid's gaze shifted. He saw what had rammed the fleeing leader. NEIGH! A wild horse stood there, something like steam rising from its entire body. Rising behind its back, it resembled wings, but the blue vapor quickly dispersed into a haze. Encrid was in much the same state. Sweat covered him, and now that he had stopped, it was evaporating in billowing clouds. One beast and one human stared blankly at each other. Off to one side, the fallen centaur leader continued to twitch. Black blood soaked the earth. The standoff between horse and human was brief. "Caught it? Oh."

Rem's voice came from behind, with a brief note of admiration. He was not alone. "Did you catch it, brother? Well done."

Rare praise from Audin. Someone else was approaching far behind, still out of sight, branches cracking along the way. Jaxon had arrived without a sound. The one following late and breaking branches would be Teresa. Giants were slow on their feet, and that would hold true for half-Giants as well. "Did Ragna follow you, by any chance?"

Encrid asked just in case. "Ah, that bastard. Came into the forest with us, then took off on his own, saying he'd found a shortcut," Rem muttered. Ah, Ragna. Encrid shook his head inwardly. This fellow, a goddamn idiot at everything except swinging a sword, had gotten lost again. "A monster? Hmm?"

Audin asked. Did his divine power allow him to recognize demonic energy easily? His tone brimmed with something like curiosity at the end. Rem seemed to have sensed something from the creature too, for he added, "That's one vicious beast." Even while speaking, Encrid had not once looked away. He had been staring into the eyes of the horse whose blue sweat turned to vapor. Its body was black, but the sweat running over its hide had a blue tinge. It was a strange sight. That was what gave the vapor its bluish hue. That was not its only unusual feature. Its eyes were different colors. One blue, one red. Even among mismatched eyes, could there be any this peculiar? At a glance, the other eye looked just like a monster's. Encrid looked at the colony leader, which had twitched on the ground and died.

'How do monsters make demonic beasts?' Krais knew all sorts of things.

["Knowledge is a weapon for showing women a different kind of charm."]

Yes, a truly splendid reason. In any case, Krais had said: ["They scatter their own blood and make the animals consume it. Then demonic energy taints a perfectly ordinary animal's brain. That's how it works. The blood of a creature that forms a colony should be particularly effective. Otherwise, it would be hard to keep demonic beasts around it."] That was likely how the Knolls had led their demonic beasts, and how this creature had led its horse demonic beasts. It explained the mass conversion of herbivores into demonic beasts. 'But there weren't that many horse demonic beasts.'

Were there few wild horses here? No, that did not seem right. Didn't the creature before him prove otherwise? "Look at this one. Only got halfway there, eh?" Rem said. Encrid saw it too. The reason for its mismatched eyes. The reason it had charged over with vapor streaming from its body and rammed the monster. PRRRH. The wild horse snorted again and gave him a wary look. Encrid met its gaze. The beast seemed to speak with its eyes. 'I'll win. I'll overcome this. I won't submit to this wretched blood.' Spirit, stature, presence—he felt something of the sort. Rem had spoken because he had seen and felt much the same thing. What did it mean to endure? Strangely, although not a word had passed and little time had elapsed, the horse did not feel unfamiliar to Encrid.

'Why?'

He asked himself and soon found the answer. He saw himself in the wild horse. An animal tainted by a monster's blood became a demonic beast. That was an immutable truth. "How extraordinary, brother," Audin murmured. Encrid saw a creature rejecting that immutable truth. He faced it squarely. Looked into its eyes. It exuded killing intent. He could see something like fighting spirit too, and half-grown fangs that had no place in a horse's mouth. Encrid remembered the past.

["A knight? Pfft."]

Some had mocked him. ["Stop talking nonsense. Get a grip and live in the real world."] Some had spoken harshly. ["Give it up. I'm saying this for your own good."]

Some had worried for him. All of them had seen an immutable, unchanging truth. Encrid stood and reached toward the horse. Even if he had not thrown his sword during the chase and caught the monster, the horse would have stopped it with that body slam. In other words, they had caught it together. "Were you after it too?" Encrid asked.

It must be remarkably clever. As he spoke, he took another step closer. The horse's resistance to the monster's blood meant it had overcome that immutable truth. The horse bared its fangs. PRRRH. It snorted again. It looked ready to bite his hand at the slightest provocation. Judging by the monsters he had seen, it might bite clean through his wrist. Just as it was about to bare its fangs, the horse shook its head and snorted once more. Its eyes wavered, shifting repeatedly between killing intent and wariness. Encrid approached. The horse backed up a step, but in the end, it did not flee. Rem and everyone else—everyone except the lost Ragna, to be precise—watched Encrid and the horse. Only the ragged breathing of Teresa, who had arrived late, broke the silence. No one spoke. Somehow, it felt like a meeting between two new things. And so Encrid's hand came to rest on the head of the black horse with the black mane. Was its sweat blue because of demonic beast blood, or had it always been that way? There was no way to know. And the creature, half demonic beast and half untamed spirit, did not reject Encrid's touch. That was all.