Chapter 337 - Putting On Tricks with Ghouls?

Putting On Tricks with Ghouls?

“When do we march?” Encrid asked.

“There’s no hurry.”

Wouldn’t it take at least a fortnight? Krais thought. The Gray Ghouls had occupied that place for a long time. Leaving them another month or two was unlikely to cause any major problems.

“All right.”

“How many troops would you like to take?”

Krais expected at least two Companies. It was an undertaking on that scale. Encrid considered briefly before answering.

“One Independent Company.”

“... An Independent Company?”

Border Guard currently had only one Independent Company. The Lunatic Company.

Had this bastard actually gone mad? That was no joke. Krais meant it.

The risk was low because they could make adequate preparations. That was possible now that Aspen no longer posed a threat. Until now, those Aspen bastards had kept them from freely committing troops elsewhere. Having more exceptional combatants available, Encrid among them, was another reason, but the more concrete reason was that they finally had the resources to spare.

All of Krais’s bewilderment and emotion emerged in a single syllable.

“Huh?”

What was so surprising? Encrid had faced Knoll and centaur colonies. If he needed neither troops to defend a fortress nor to protect a village, then fighting a monster colony was surprisingly easy. That was the answer his accumulated experience had given him.

'Take out the head, and it’s over.'

A simple principle. And a sound one. Even those scholars with a modicum of brains had chosen eliminating the leader as the best way to deal with the Land of Gray Ghouls.

What would that require? At minimum, a force from a knight order. Better still, an actual knight. That was the best approach.

But the place wasn’t causing catastrophic damage at present. It was merely an inconvenience. The royal palace’s policy was to deal with it when resources allowed. So no knight order would be coming.

The royal palace might ignore the problem, but Krais couldn’t. Circumstances had changed a little. A detour in a trade route meant losses. Large losses. Staggering losses.

It was a problem Border Guard absolutely had to solve. They needed to improve their trade routes for the future, and several ways of doing so had already been devised. By Krais, at least.

'Krona are leaking away.'

It was common knowledge that every extra stretch of transport cost another silver coin or two. So they would solve it. This would raise Encrid’s standing even further, since it coincided with a royal commission.

In other words, this was something that absolutely had to succeed, something they had to handle safely, and yet...

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s enough.”

“You sure you didn’t hurt your head sparring?”

“Why do you keep forgetting your manners?”

“Because I’m so surprised, sir. Surprised.”

When would this bastard become a normal person? Encrid rapped Krais on the head for the insolence in his eyes.

“That hurts.”

“I could have split your skull.”

That was probably no lie. Krais endured the pain. Only the Lunatic Company would go.

'Ah. Well. It’ll work out, right?'

Encrid was the one going in person. This was the Captain’s judgment. Krais could more or less understand his reasons, too. Taking a larger force would mean casualties. People would be injured or killed. Of course they would.

Was that why? It wasn’t the only reason. A subtle heat had already appeared in Encrid’s eyes. He was simply desperate for a fight. Krais felt oddly certain of it.

Encrid asked, “And the commission from the capital came?”

“It was cutting things close, but yes. It arrived.”

The royal palace had been a convenient excuse, but an actual commission had arrived, accompanied by a letter.

[Wishing you success.]

Those three words were all it said. It was from Marcus, the previous lord.

“He must be busy.”

Encrid didn’t bother writing back. That was that. They each checked their equipment and gathered supplies, while Krais made what preparations he could. That was all it took.

They were ready to march in just two days. What would have taken at least ten days had they decided to send regular Companies had become a simple affair. Krais wondered whether this was really all right, yet, strangely, he couldn’t picture anything ominous happening.

They weren’t even taking every member of the unit.

“Do I have to go?” Ragna asked with drooping eyes as they prepared to depart. He seemed to be turning into an old dog.

“If you’re tired no matter how much you sleep, just fucking die,” Rem bestowed his blessing.

“Come at me whenever you want to die. You can even ambush me in my sleep. Not that it’ll help.”

Ragna courteously declined the blessing.

“Do we need a bastard like that?”

Encrid thought for a moment. All they needed was for the small elite strike force tactic to work. Ragna’s most important task during the fighting would be not getting lost.

“Get some rest.”

Encrid left Ragna alone.

What if the Gray Ghouls were formidable enough to warrant a knight?

'That would be fun, too.'

Encrid was always thirsty for a new challenge. This mission was rain falling on drought-parched earth. He didn’t worry about the danger or what might come afterward. Krais did the worrying.

He gathered and analyzed information from the surrounding area, assessed the value of the Gray Ghouls’ now-ruined forest, and concluded that the colony leader hiding inside wasn’t as threatening as one might think.

'A Ghoul that developed intelligence while leading a colony.'

It was a living contradiction of the saying, “That’s Ghoul-brained nonsense.” A Ghoul that used its head. And it lived in hiding in the forest? Why? Because food was abundant? Because its monstrous violence had been excised?

'Utter nonsense.'

It had become intelligent enough to know it would lose if it fought recklessly. So it held its ground where it had the advantage. Krais judged that to be the truth behind the Gray Ghoul.

'Well, if things go wrong, he’ll find his own way out.'

He had seen Encrid escape a trap on instinct alone. It was only natural to develop faith in him.

And so, two days later, Sinar joined them on the day of departure.

“Aren’t you busy?”

“I am a Fairy.”

What she meant was that she couldn’t stand by while monsters defiled a forest. Fairies loved forests. Plants didn’t display turbulent emotions, but they brimmed with vitality. That vitality replenished a certain power within a Fairy’s body. In other words, basking in a forest could heal even mortal wounds. Provided, of course, that the forest was healthy and lush.

“In the name of the Fairies, I shall not forgive them.”

Encrid nodded at her flat declaration of resolve. Whatever else this was, it didn’t seem to be a journey to preserve the forest’s peace, but she was more than adequate as a blade in their small elite force.

“Then let’s go.”

After a day’s travel by carriage, they secured a campsite, laid out stones, set a pot over them, and prepared their bedding. Up to that point, a squad accompanying them tended the camp, lit fires, and stood sentry.

Along the way, they encountered three Ghouls.

“Allow me.”

Led by a soldier who had followed them from Green Pearl, the squad engaged the creatures. They had heard that Ghoul numbers had risen with spring, and now the creatures were even appearing on the main road. Word was that the route had become more perilous for traveling peddlers.

“Hah!”

The soldiers’ battle cries rang out.

All three Ghouls lay sprawled on the ground, and the soldiers hadn’t suffered a scratch. They had cut the heads off the first two. The third had lost its legs before they smashed its skull with stones thrown from a distance.

The third Ghoul had been quicker than the other two. Monsters weren’t all alike. Individuals differed. The squad’s tactics, which accounted for that, were impressive. Two of the better soldiers had bought time by stabbing at the nimble Ghoul with spears. Their short spears and shields had proved effective. Encrid judged the squad’s fighting strength to be quite decent.

'If they master a little more of the basics...'

His idea of basics began with running alongside the river of death. They would actually run on the plains near Green Pearl, but the running would make them see the river of death. That could hardly be considered good news for these men.

After spending the night, they took a roundabout route for several days until they neared the Land of Gray Ghouls. Everyone kept a good walking pace, the escort squad included.

“We’ll head back now, sir.”

Encrid nodded to the saluting commander. After sending the soldiers back, he surveyed their surroundings. They had settled in a clearing before a forest steeped in a sinister air.

“We go in tomorrow morning.”

Fighting monsters at night was foolish.

“Sounds good,” Rem replied.

However confident they were in their skills, why deliberately take a risk just to avoid one night of camping? Encrid didn’t.

The next day, as soon as the sun rose, Encrid, Rem, Audin, Dunbachel, Teresa, and Sinar entered the land of the Ghouls.

* * *

Low-lying mist obscured their vision, and gray-tinged trees restricted it further. A sour, musty odor drifted from beyond them, carried on the dank air and mist.

“Looks like the kind of place where just breathing makes you sick,” Rem said, crunching through gray fallen leaves.

He was right. The air Encrid drew through his nose traveled down his windpipe into his lungs. Along the way, the sensitivity honed through his sensory arts detected something foul mixed into it. Stay too long, and poison would accumulate in the body.

'They did say this Ghoul used its head.'

It must have had a reason for making its lair here. Or perhaps it had transformed the environment after settling in. Naturally, they had known about this before coming. Surely they had gathered at least that much information.

The poison was simply denser than expected. A sickly person would develop lung disease in less than two days. Encrid and his absurdly healthy companions, however, could camp here for a whole month and suffer discomfort at most, not lung disease. Their stamina and muscular strength supported a level of health well beyond that of ordinary people.

“Graaaargh!”

They had barely taken a few breaths of the foul air when Ghouls burst out. Drawing on sound, Encrid’s Sixth Sense told him there were six. They kicked hard off the ground, rushing through the trees. Since he was in the lead, he naturally stepped forward.

CLICK.

With his left thumb, he flicked up the catch securing the sword in its scabbard. Then he took the hilt in his right hand and opened his senses further.

Nostrils like two flattened holes. Skin nearly charcoal gray. Powerful leg muscles and long arms. The nails at their ends curved forward; letting those sink in would mean surrendering a considerable chunk of flesh. Their black, pupil-less eyes drew dark streaks through the gray forest.

He saw all of it, heard their charge, and calculated their speed within the realm of his Sixth Sense. He had no need for Swift Sword, Flowing Sword, or even heavy sword. He trusted the silver weapon in his hand to do its job. Besides, he was here to hunt the so-called king of the Gray Ghouls. He intended to conserve his strength.

Optimal movements and the shortest possible paths. Those required accelerated thought. Quick thinking—the increased speed of his thoughts—had advanced Encrid’s Righteous Sword Technique another step. No, it had done more than advance it.

Rem’s instincts, which surpassed even a wild beast’s, had identified precisely what Encrid lacked, and their sparring had helped him develop it. Encrid knew his own shortcomings well, too.

[“You have to recognize what you lack if you want to improve.”]

A mercenary he had met in a city had told him that. The man hadn’t been a swordsmanship instructor, but he had offered plenty of advice on real combat, and it had proved useful enough.

Encrid tested those scraps of wisdom about combat and life with his own body, experimented with them, and made them into experience. He had always done that. This time was no different. Experiencing a knight’s sword and sparring with Rem and the others had been no exception. He had focused on filling in what he lacked. Now it was time to show the results.

Three came from the left, two from the right, and one sprang upward.

CRACK-CRACK!

Thin branches snapped as the Ghouls broke through them. The instant their claws and gray bodies filled his vision, Encrid’s hands and feet moved. As always, it began with his feet.

Pivoting on his left foot, he drew his sword with his right hand. The one descending on him came first. He marked point after point, then smoothly joined all those points into lines.

THWACK!

SPLIT! RIP! CRUNCH! THUD!

After splitting the one above him vertically, he added the strength of his left hand and pushed his right hand to the left. Drawing his right hand back, he swung the sword to his own left. The extending blade caught two Ghoul skulls, splitting them at an angle. The first was cleaved from its right eye up through its skull; the second lost the top of its head. Black blood and brains scattered through the air.

Meanwhile, Encrid shifted his pivot to his right foot, twisted slightly, and drew the gladius with his right hand. He stabbed twice in succession to the right, then turned his wrist and struck the remaining creature’s skull with the flat of the blade.

It was a complicated sequence, but every movement occurred within a single breath. They followed one another without pause, as precise as a rehearsed sequence honed by countless repetitions.

'All that sparring helped a lot.'

Experience was the foremost means of honing the Righteous Sword Technique. That, at least, he did not lack. On top of it, he had piled sparring and effort. Thanks to that, Encrid could unveil his fourth sword technique here.

The first was Snake Sword. The second, Lightning Stab. The third, Crushing Sword. This was the fourth.

In a way, the fight had merely made the Ghouls look stupid. The dumb bastards had seemed to throw themselves onto his swords. It was possible because he had forced their movements. The timing of his steps, the angle of his body, even the positions of his hands—everything had induced the Ghouls to attack from a single direction.

Encrid named it “Captivating Sword.” It was a Righteous Sword Technique that restricted an opponent’s movements.

Swordsmanship was meant to be learned with small adjustments to suit one’s own body, but Encrid had gone further. He kept creating new sword techniques. What came naturally to him was, in fact, the most ideal path: the path toward knighthood, and the path to mastering true swordsmanship.

Watching him, Rem knew his own contribution had been considerable. And because he knew all too well how much their present efforts would help, he offered a brief congratulations.

“Putting on tricks with Ghouls?”

Encrid nodded at Rem’s blessing.

“Let’s do some more.”

This sword technique had only just sprouted. Whatever Rem said, his first impulse was to swing it a little more, to hone it a little further.

“Leave some for me.”

Dunbachel sounded sulky, but over the next six attacks by groups of Ghouls, none of Encrid’s companions had any occasion to swing a weapon.