Encrid lowered his arms, and the tip of his sword pointed to the ground. Before him, the bisected demon lay sprawled, reduced to chunks of flesh.
Black blood soaked the floor, and only brownish lumps of flesh were left scattered above it.
"Anyone else want to step forward?"
A simple question followed. Hearing it, everyone raised their heads.
"Please, spare us!"
Thud.
One soldier dropped his weapon as he spoke. The spear in his hand clattered to the ground. Encrid hadn’t swung his sword at him or anyone else.
The demonized administrator had been such a shock that even the soldiers and others appeared as if their spirits had left their bodies.
There might be a time to hold soldiers accountable for following orders, but that time wasn’t now.
With this thought, Encrid turned his head. Luagarne, inspecting the dead demon, spoke.
"These cultists will go to any lengths in their experiments."
From her words, it seemed the cult had done more than just hold gatherings; they had delved into unthinkable acts.
All of this had been partially resolved by Encrid’s blade.
After all, the demon responsible for everything was now dead.
Encrid turned to the self-proclaimed lord, who kept his head bowed.
Was it time to ask him what had happened and instruct him to handle the aftermath?
The man’s shoulders trembled as his head remained bowed.
In situations like this, what does the person in charge typically feel?
Were those trembling shoulders quaking with joy? Or was it a sense of futility?
It was possible for futility to precede joy. The situation had spiraled out of his control, leaving him powerless.
On top of that, it was an outsider from the Border Guard who had resolved the situation.
Setting aside pride, this was hardly a moment for him to be openly jubilant.
Even though Encrid wasn’t knowledgeable in politics, he could grasp the general flow of events and human psychology.
Even if he felt relief, he wouldn’t be able to hide his futility entirely. The lord lifted his head to look at Encrid.
Pause.
Encrid instinctively shifted his weight backward. Luagarne noticed and glanced at the lord.
What’s with that guy’s eyes?
The lord’s eyes sparkled, intensely, almost unnervingly so.
"Your skills are truly extraordinary, Sir Knight."
His tone carried a sense of reverence.
"Surely, you’re not thinking of leaving us after this, are you?"
There was a hint of desperation in his voice.
"… Wouldn’t it make sense to leave once the cult problem is resolved? This land belongs to Aspen, after all."
Encrid responded. Truthfully, he wasn’t in a rush to leave. There were still cult gatherings to deal with, and he intended to address them.
After all, Luagarne’s purpose for coming along was precisely because of the cult.
"Those are some dangerous eyes."
Luagarne remarked, evaluating the lord’s gaze. Encrid silently agreed.
Those eyes really are strange.
They resembled the gleaming look Krais had when discovering a ruin full of treasure.
The lord, Louis, looked at Encrid as though he were an herbalist who had unearthed a rare plant.
"What are you saying, Sir Knight? Since it has come to this, please, help us!"
He pleaded, falling to his knees.
The lord’s name was Louis. Louis knew he wasn’t particularly capable, but his love for his city was genuine.
"All of you, kneel!"
He commanded everyone around him. The fool guarding the basement was the first to kneel, followed by the soldiers, and eventually even the criminals from the guild, caught up in the atmosphere.
"Please help us! Follow my lead!"
Up until now, there hadn’t been a chance to evaluate the lord’s character due to the rapid succession of events. But now, with a moment of reprieve, his nature began to show.
Louis was persistent, a man who wouldn’t let an opportunity slip by.
His sparkling eyes resembled those of a merchant who had stumbled upon a rare treasure or a beggar who hadn’t eaten in days and suddenly received a loaf of bread.
But it wasn’t entirely off-putting.
"Help us!"
Louis cried.
For Louis, there were more pressing matters than criticizing the commanders for following the administrator’s lead.
His top priority?
A Knight, friendly toward the city, had appeared. He wasn’t making any demands, didn’t hesitate, and had slain a demon.
Should he simply say thank you and move on? Shed tears of joy? Or lament his own incompetence for failing to resolve an issue that only required one stroke of a sword?
‘That’s not it.’
Louis’s hopes were desperate and clear.
As a child, Louis believed he’d grow up to be an extraordinary Knight. For a month or two, he held on to that belief, but it quickly faded.
"There’s not much one can do with a sword alone."
His father consoled him, but Louis wasn’t particularly affected by it.
Not being skilled with a sword didn’t change much, after all. Later, he tried to learn magic and dabbled in various other pursuits.
Louis understood he lacked exceptional talent. He also realized he didn’t desire much.
The biggest wish he’d had as a child was for people to stop fighting.
Cross Guard frequently clashed with the Border Guard over the Pen-Hanil River.
‘Can’t people just live moderately, in peace?’
To Louis, a simple life was ideal. As long as his city’s people weren’t starving, and they could afford firewood to survive winter, he was content.
That was all Louis ever wanted.
When did everything start going wrong?
Allowing a wizard into the city? Letting someone who controlled demons come inside? Appointing a lunatic commander who thought burning the city for Aspen was acceptable?
Misfortunes compounded. Around this time, his elderly father passed away from old age.
His mother had died when he was young, leaving only a few relatives who weren’t exactly trustworthy.
Some aimed for his lordship, others for his life.
The new lord, who replaced him, was supposedly one of his father’s half-brothers, though Louis doubted the blood relation.
The new lord was, at least, the best swordsman of the group.
Since then, Louis’s sole wish had been for his city’s people to live without suffering.
Why? Did there need to be a reason? If so, it was because he genuinely loved the city where he was born and raised.
"May I ask what kind of help you seek?"
Since the lord addressed him formally, Encrid replied in kind.
Even after being battered around like this, claiming lordship meant he wasn’t hiding anything about himself.
And what was left of the city for him to claim lordship over anyway?
"Some remnants still remain. Since you’ve already exerted effort, could you help us a bit more…?"
His words trailed off, ending in an awkward smile. Shameless as it was, Encrid saw sincerity in his plea.
If he was wrong, so be it.
Before nodding, Encrid asked casually.
"Why go to such lengths? If you had wanted to flee, you had plenty of chances."
He could have escaped to the Border Guard and survived.
Why stay in this corrupted city? For what purpose? Was it because he couldn’t let go of his lordship? Or was there something more?
The lord began to speak, and his tone carried only conviction. There was no shame or futility in it.
He had never wished to be a hero, nor had he aspired to be a savior.
The idea of a divine angel descending to restore the city was appealing, but such miracles don’t happen.
Instead, could it be that this Knight’s sword, arriving at this moment, was the next best thing?
"Simply because I wish for the place where I was born and raised to be just a little better."
The lord spoke.
"You could have taken your people and gone into exile."
Encrid countered with a valid question.
Wishing for peace meant caring for his people, didn’t it? Didn’t he have any ambition?
"The peace I desire isn’t something achieved by abandoning my homeland. If a similar situation arises later, should we flee again? Gather people anew? Who would like that? As a person who loves this city, more than a lord, I simply hope its walls can protect its people."
To have a purpose in one’s heart is power. Even without mastering the sword, having a clear goal and genuine desire was enough to give strength.
Lord Louis lacked exceptional talent, but his care for the city was real, and he knew how to seize opportunities with tenacity.
Encrid nodded.
Afterward, the lord mobilized everything he knew.
"You, there! Spill the location of your base, or Sir Knight here will cut you down!"
Immediately, he grilled a nearby criminal guild member.
"Yes? Oh no, please spare me! I’ll guide you. Of course, I will!"
Like a fox riding a tiger, the lord confidently commanded.
"Lead the way!"
He barked.
Luagarne muttered to herself, finding him amusing.
Before nightfall, they moved.
Encrid visited the three guild bases one by one.
At one base:
"Do you know who I am? I’m the guild’s second-in-command!"
When asked what that meant, he explained it meant he was the second strongest in the guild.
"And who’s first?"
"That’d be Windblade."
"Ah, I see."
The man wielded a spiked mace, and while his skill wasn’t terrible, he had a bad habit.
Every time he swung the mace with his right hand, his left shoulder opened up defensively.
Encrid targeted that left shoulder and thrust his sword.
Thwack!
"Aagh!"
The blade struck a major artery, causing blood to gush out.
"Spare me, please!"
With just one thrust, his bravado disappeared.
"Have you ever spared anyone who begged for their life?"
There was no reply. His eyes darted around, and his lips trembled. Before he could try to lie, Encrid’s sword moved.
Encrid continued his sweep through the city. After clearing out most of the trouble, he arrived at the mansion where the administrator had once sung his songs.
"Do you dare challenge a noble of the night? Your choice is a grave mistake."
Standing before him was a vampire oozing pretentiousness.
"So, it wasn’t a relative after all!"
The lord shouted.
The vampire was the one who had claimed to be his relative, usurped his title, and exiled him.
Inside the mansion, the vampire had been capturing young women and children from the city to drain their blood.
But it wasn’t just blood. He seemed to enjoy cruel hobbies, relishing the screams of his victims during torture.
Over a dozen corpses lay within, victims of his sadistic habits carried over from when he was human.
There was no need for words.
A vampire wasn’t a common demon. A sentient, speaking vampire was considered a high-ranking demon, a formidable foe.
Yet, this vampire was cleaved in two with a single strike.
"It must be burned."
The experienced Frog took charge of cleanup. She placed the dismembered vampire's body in a furnace and diligently burned it.
The stench of burning flesh and blood filled the mansion.
Afterward, three werewolves appeared.
Growl!
They had no intelligence. Encrid dealt with them calmly, using Aker’s Web technique to corner them and severing their heads.
With a dull thud, their heads separated from their bodies and rolled across the floor.
"There are even creatures that appear in the dead of night."
The shameless lord said with feigned courtesy.
Indeed, another demon appeared at night. It was yet another werewolf.
It was a miracle this city had functioned at all until now.
Seizing the opportunity, Encrid stayed up all night and day, wielding his sword tirelessly.
As he passed by the inn where he had first stayed, he noticed a child standing outside, looking at him with a dazed expression.
"There will be no one left to bother you. Go and tell your father."
"He's my uncle. We're not blood-related. He actually found me and raised me."
The child spoke unprompted, seemingly startled by his own admission. The city’s sudden changes must have overwhelmed him.
"Is that so?"
Encrid replied indifferently.
Orphans were common everywhere.
But those who took care of orphans were not.
Especially in a struggling city like this, such caretakers were even rarer.
Encrid roamed the entire city, hunting down hidden demons, eliminating assassins, and capturing cultists holding secret gatherings.
"So, you’re a cultist."
When it came to dealing with cultists, Luagarne took the lead.
What might be a disaster for one could be a blessing for another.
For the lord and those who strove to live upright lives, Encrid was both a disaster and a blessing.
A blood-spilling blade, a blade that cut through darkness, bringing fleeting hope.
Encrid spent day and night observing the city and its people.
Within the city, even among the criminal guilds, there were those who quietly helped others.
Some adults took in children who would otherwise starve to death.
A retired mercenary died trying to protect others.
A lord, who claimed he wanted nothing more than a place where people could live well, proved genuine.
Despite their own struggles, some shared bread with beggars and made stew for others.
Even amongst filth, flowers bloom.
After staying up all night, Encrid saw a tree by the inn where he had stayed.
White flowers had blossomed on that tree.
Even in this broken city, there were people worth protecting.
Even if they weren’t his people, he couldn’t let them die.
Protecting one’s back and striving for peace—this was what it meant.
This wasn’t a newfound realization.
It had been his goal ever since he first picked up a sword and was inspired by the songs of bards.
It was the reason he trained instead of lamenting his lack of talent, and why he couldn’t settle for where he was now.
That night, the ferryman appeared once more and asked:
"Are you satisfied? Saving them all? You will regret it."
The ferryman cast his curse, and Encrid replied, "Bulguil Ilhaam?"
The ferryman grew furious.
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