The Holy Kingdom had sent five people to track down the saintess.
The main figures were Crusader Alma, Priestess Shilma, and Inquisitor Bert.
Actual combat duties were handled by Alma and his two disciples, with Alma's prowess being overwhelmingly unmatched.
The Knights representing the supreme force of the order were naturally the crusaders, whose power was said to rival that of Knights acknowledged across the continent.
But that didn’t mean the Crusader Corps was lacking.
Within their ranks were also warriors with abilities comparable to Knights.
Moreover, they were backed by the order itself.
For that reason alone, the order’s crusaders were people to be respected anywhere they went.
That said, not every crusader was at that level.
In the Order of Abundance, crusaders who didn’t prove their skill weren’t given a name, they were simply known as someone’s disciple or apprentice warrior, as was the case with Alma’s disciples.
They were nameless because, upon joining the order, they were expected to abandon all they had gained in the world, like fallen fruit or autumn leaves, dedicating themselves solely to serving the Gods.
Earning a name, therefore, was proof of receiving the blessing of Abundance, showing that Divine Power had graced them and their strength had been verified.
Thus, the crusader Alma could stand among others wherever he went.
Such a person had set out on this tedious chase, just in case his strength was needed.
“So, where is the saintess?”
Alma’s brows furrowed intensely, his scowl revealing his irritation.
He was indeed quite displeased.
He was irritated by the need to step in personally for such a trivial matter and even more so that they had crossed borders for it.
“Did you not know the Saint Child possessed such skill?”
The priest standing about three paces from Alma and his disciples also asked.
Her name was Shilma, the manager of the fortress monastery.
She didn’t particularly like Alma’s impatience, but she was also in a hurry, feeling the same urgency.
They had to capture the saintess as soon as possible.
The man who was supposed to answer the two shared the same sentiment.
Alma, his two disciples, and Shilma faced a man named Bert.
He appeared ordinary, but the other two were all ears to him.
Though Bert’s combat skills weren’t remarkable, he was a seasoned expert in tracking people.
He glanced back and forth between Alma and Shilma before speaking.
“Yes, Brother Alma. I estimate we’ll capture her today. Priestess Shilma, we discovered only after the incident that she grew up with an independent ranger, a mountain man.”
Alma’s eyebrows twitched at that.
There was already nothing about this situation he found likable, and now a term he didn’t know had surfaced, further souring his mood.
His two disciples noticed their master’s unease.
Their master had been unable to satisfy his urges for days now.
If they captured the runaway saintess, it was doubtful her limbs would remain intact.
The two disciples were well aware of their master’s sadistic tendencies.
Didn’t he often say he wished for heretics to resist him? Specifically, he enjoyed beating those who resisted.
A master who took pleasure in breaking bones and bodies.
Bert cast a quick glance at Alma’s raised brows and offered a brief explanation.
“They’re also called autonomous combatants...”
Independent rangers, also known as autonomous combatants, was a term used by those in the know.
Some scholars speculated their lifespan differed from typical humans, calling them Highlanders.
In truth, most people simply called them Highlanders or mountain folk.
It was a name derived from the fact that they mostly stayed within their territory, typically in the mountains.
The origin of the term was unknown, but city dwellers often referred to those who easily adapted to urban life as insiders, while those who couldn’t adapt were called outsiders, making these people extreme outsiders.
Whatever the origin, their existence was indeed unique.
They survived alone or in groups of three or four, even in a world overrun by monsters and beasts.
They sought no work and desired nothing.
All they wanted was to continue living on their land.
“Are you referring to Highlanders?”
Shilma interrupted the explanation.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Bert rubbed the brooch on his chest.
It bore the symbol of Abundance’s seven grapes, a tribute to the seven martyrs, and holding it seemed to ease his anxiety somewhat.
If this mission failed, he wouldn’t die, but he would certainly face significant consequences.
“Don’t Highlanders have pale skin and beast-like eyes?”
Shilma recalled reading in a book that Highlanders had evolved that way after living in the wild for extended periods.
Eyes that could pierce through darkness even without light?
Shilma had observed the saintess for months, and her eyes were just like any human’s.
“She’s not of Highlander blood, it seems another mountain person raised her and even trained her.”
That was Bert’s conclusion. It was speculative but close to the truth.
Highlanders were mountain experts and masters of tracking.
Within their territory, they were never caught and rarely pursued anyone.
Experts in setting traps and ambushes.
The reason Bert had changed his tracking method after gathering information was due to the saintess’ origin.
He was also an exceptional tracker. Like Encrid, he saw not just dots but the trail left by a fleeing person.
Was she fleeing aimlessly?
Highlanders lived in territories littered with hundreds of traps, knowing each location by heart.
Tracking, evading, and hunting were part of their daily lives.
Simply following her trail would lead to failure.
He was sure of it.
So Bert had rounded up people to corner her and predicted her movements.
If he knew nothing, it would be different, but now he knew the saintess’ nature.
If she stayed in one place for three days, she’d remember the position of every rock there. That was the nature of the saintess.
‘If we lose her after all this?’
The thought of failure added to Bert’s growing unease.
If that happened, they’d have no choice but to return to where they first spotted the saintess and search again from scratch.
But he would no longer be part of that search.
He had to capture her here.
‘It’s best to capture her here and end this.’
He had no desire to enter the mountains where the Highlanders lived, those monsters of their terrain, wielding traps, arrows, and poison.
The famous Glacier Rangers, the Guardians of the Glacier, had honed their skills by learning from the Highlanders.
If it came to that, he’d be finished.
It would mean mission failure, and explaining that to Alma would be a dreadful ordeal.
So Bert wanted to end things here. No, he had to end them here.
Fortunately, he had the Krona to hire people, the strength needed, and enough information to predict the saintess’ movements.
With this, he’d hired local hunters who knew the area, and he’d brought along Priestess Shilma and Crusader Alma.
After passing Pelheim, they took positions near the northern forest, where Shilma cloaked the group’s presence with a holy spell.
“May the Lord shield us, hiding us briefly from the eyes of the sun.”
The spell darkened the shadows around them slightly. The darkened area marked the spell’s range.
“As long as we stay within this area, she won’t spot us first.”
Shilma said. It was an invisible but existent veil.
Alma waited with an annoyed look. Breaking the monsters they encountered along the way hadn’t satisfied him, so his frustration hadn’t abated.
Bert was considering where the saintess might have gone if she slipped past them.
He would need a defense if the worst occurred.
How much time had passed?
Even holding back his need to relieve himself, he remained patient.
Seeing a distant shadow, Bert breathed a sigh of relief.
The shadow came closer, and her figure became clear, dressed in a ragged cloak reaching her calves. He didn’t need to see her face to know her identity.
It was the saintess.
‘Thank goodness.’
Bert felt genuine gratitude toward the saintess who had walked right to them.
He was relieved. He no longer needed to prepare excuses, and with the sun just starting to set, he might even eat within the city tonight.
Pursuing her was the hard part, now that they’d met, there was nothing left to worry about.
“Saint Child.”
As Shilma spoke, the invisible black veil began to dissolve, felt only by her.
Alma, his two disciples, and Bert sensed something that had blocked them from view moments ago disappear.
It was only once it was gone that they realized it had been there, previously, they’d only felt a faint discomfort.
This all indicated that the perceptual disruption spell had lifted.
It also meant Shilma had identified her target.
The saintess responded, and they stood face-to-face.
Alma, feeling no need to wait, raised his battle hammer in his lowered hand.
As his disciples had anticipated, he intended to break the saintess’ legs and bring her back.
Didn’t her divinity supposedly heal her on its own?
This brat had caused them as much trouble as a Frog.
Her sin was great.
* * *
Encrid assessed the entire situation simply.
North, pursuers, saintess.
With those three words in mind, he instantly formulated his plan.
“Run.”
He dashed through autumn sunlight, disregarding hills and monsters.
It would have been ideal to find tracks, but luck wasn’t with him.
The old saying that ignorance makes your legs work harder held true for him now.
He accepted that he could be as ignorant as he pleased.
He pushed his feet until his heart and gut burned hot. Sweat began to break out.
Just because he was a Knight didn’t mean he was beyond human limitations, sweating and tiring was natural.
Only, compared to a regular person, he could run for an absurdly long time and breathe deeply.
Among Knights who practiced breathing techniques, some could hold their breath for over an hour.
Encrid drove his legs into the ground, moving in a zigzag.
Not needing to hold his breath, he exhaled freely, gaining speed.
Bang!
Each time he pushed off the ground, it erupted, leaving traces in his wake.
The wrong direction? The path? He didn’t care.
What he lacked, he made up for with his legs.
“When the fight comes, you’ll be tired.”
Sinar commented, but he ignored him.
In truth, Encrid knew a more comfortable, easier way.
Where would the crusaders take the saintess after capturing her?
Wouldn’t they likely go to the nearest city?
They wouldn’t embark on a long journey without resupplying, they’d go there. Grabbing her then would be much easier.
But he didn’t want to do it that way. He didn’t feel like it, and his instincts told him otherwise.
He’d felt it when he saw the shattered monster’s head and the quake marks.
“There’s a nasty one in their group.”
Hadn’t Sinar said the same?
The fight’s traces spoke volumes.
There was a persistent and nasty fighter among them. They even had witness accounts.
Deutsche mentioned an angry-looking guy.
And it seemed the others around him were wary of him.
A cruel one from the order who was angry over this mission.
Would such a person simply dust off his hands after capturing the saintess?
He didn’t think so.
And that was why he was running.
If he endured the hardship, accepted his ignorance, and let his feet do the work, he could lessen the pain someone else would suffer.
Especially if that someone was an innocent child.
With this clear in mind, Encrid had no reason not to run.
Boom!
In the distance, a faint sound reached his ears.
“There.”
Sinar pointed her right index finger, having found tracks and other traces of movement.
Beyond the short, faded yellow grass, she could see one of the mountain spines of the Gigante Range stretching out.
It was below the towering peaks that touched the clouds.
The footprints were hard to spot, if they hadn’t combed the ground, they might have missed some faint traces.
“It’s a trace of Divine Power.”
Audin frowned as he spoke, but Encrid paid no mind to Audin’s feelings.
Instead, he pressed forward. That was what was needed now.
Boom!
He pushed off the ground again, leaving clumps of dirt flying behind, as he shattered the space between him and his destination.
No hesitation in feeling sympathy for the captured saintess.
Upon arrival, he saw a child with a broken right leg swinging a short sword.
The blade sliced through the empty air, the man within its arc smirking as he dodged backward.
He saw it all.
Encrid’s shout thundered like lightning, making the five men around the saintess instantly go on alert.
Trailing afterimages, light, and stretched shadows, Encrid came to a halt.
Bang!
He didn’t stop just by standing still.
He stomped the ground, raising a cloud of dust, obscuring their view.
From within the dust, his blue eyes fixed on the five.
Up close, he saw the child he’d thought pitiable holding a dagger in reverse grip with her neutral-toned eyes.
How calm she was in this situation.
Her leg was visibly broken, but she hadn’t even screamed. Encrid could only infer some things from the scene.
“And who are you?”
The man with the permanently furrowed brow spoke.
Encrid believed that if words were necessary, fists could come first.
And so, he did just that.
Audin hadn’t even arrived yet.
Encrid’s foot pressed into the ground. His ankle and knee bent before extending smoothly in one motion.
The movement was so fluid that, despite the loud stomp, he shot forward like a swift hawk diving at prey.
His opponent, the frowning man, reacted poorly.
That alone was impressive.
Of course, that was all he could manage.
The man raised his left arm like a shield and swung the hammer in his right hand upwards.
Encrid grabbed his face with his left hand, hooked his left foot around the man’s heel, and slammed the back of his head into the ground.
Bang!
Their ‘meeting’ was exceptionally successful. The explosive sound from his skull proved it.
Thanks for the Chapter Bro!!! :DD
Thanks for the Chapter.
Is it updated regularly? Also what is release schedule
Creo que he leído el manhwa, talvez lo esté confundiendo.. 🤔