"Let’s see if you can find a way to run next time, kid."
The ferryman ultimately failed to keep his composure. Surely, a devil resided in that man’s cursed mouth.
"Get lost."
The ferryman repeated.
Encrid started to say something, his lips forming a shape the ferryman couldn’t tolerate. It looked like he was about to say “Boo” again.
So, after sending the madman Encrid away, the ferryman sat on the boat’s edge, staring into the lamplight, pondering the day to come.
‘Let’s see how it turns out again.’
He murmured, surprised by his own words.
Instead of dwelling on the clear misery of being trapped in today, he had spoken about the uncertain future of how Encrid might progress.
‘Am I… anticipating something?’
Was it because of what Encrid had shown so far? Perhaps.
Even so, he believed the end wouldn’t be pleasant.
Why wouldn’t he? He had witnessed countless heroes and great figures.
Among them were those who had achieved more than Encrid.
But how had their stories ended?
The ferryman tried conversing with the voices within him. Most were in agreement.
"It all ends the same way."
"Anticipation? What foolish nonsense."
"Still hanging on?"
"Don’t repeat the day; call it eternal life instead."
Only a very few suggested something new.
"Maybe we’ll get to see him tremble in agony. That’ll be amusing."
"Do you think he can endure this time?"
True anticipation—neither disappointment nor despair, but lukewarm reactions.
The ferryman was not a single entity.
He had always been many. This was why Encrid often remarked that today’s ferryman felt different.
So, it was natural for their opinions not to align. Yet, they were many and one simultaneously.
At his core, the ferryman sought a new companion.
That unity now showed cracks.
It was the result of one human’s relentless madness and determination.
"What are you trying to do? What are you hoping for?"
One of the entities spoke. The ferryman controlling the body smiled instead of answering.
A curve formed across his dull gray skin, creating a grotesque expression.
If Encrid were to see him now, he would call that smile the most ominous sight of all.
***
Even after all this, Encrid’s work wasn’t done.
In a single day, he had dismantled three criminal guilds, killed the demon Evil Eye, which was the cult’s experimental tool controlling the city, slain a pleasure-seeking vampire lord, and three werewolf guards.
Yet, traces of soot still lingered across the city.
"Die!"
Among the remnants, an emerging group of assassins attacked.
Three moved as one, though their stealth techniques were crude, and their war cries betrayed their intent.
Their lack of training was evident.
Why? After the Evil Eye took over the city, it turned everything into a playground.
The criminal guilds and assassins survived not because of skill but because the Evil Eye allowed it for its amusement.
Why had the Evil Eye turned the city into this? It seemed purely for pleasure. A thoroughly idle being.
Watching the assassins, Encrid shook his head internally.
‘If Jaxon saw this, he’d sigh.’
He drew his sword. With a sharp sound, the blade reflected the sunlight and, in one swift motion, cut through the three assassins.
Similar encounters followed.
"Lord Demon!"
At one gathering, the cultists were stabbing their hearts with daggers to summon a demon.
Of course, no demon appeared. Demons from the Demon Realm weren’t so easily summoned.
Instead, their deaths birthed a specter, feeding on their will. The one who plunged the dagger into their heart collapsed, and a black distortion appeared in the air.
A specter manifested. While not as formidable as the Evil Eye, it could pose an even greater threat to ordinary people due to its amorphous nature.
Luagarne puffed out her cheeks upon seeing it.
"Ridiculous."
She swung her whip, destroying the specter in one blow.
Screeeeech! Aaaaagh!
The specter’s shrieks echoed as it was torn apart. Even the curse within its death throes had no effect.
Encrid saw the blue marks left where Luagarne’s whip had struck.
"A magical weapon?"
He asked, and she nodded in response.
"Jealous?"
"Not at all."
Encrid replied immediately. To him, it was no big deal. While he usually admired various weapons, this time, he genuinely didn’t.
Later, he encountered another cult gathering, but this time, Encrid cut down the specter himself, proving that his weapon, too, was enchanted.
His longsword, infused with black gold, had been imbued with magic by Esther herself, making it a magical weapon.
Screeeeech.
The specter screamed as it dissolved into smoke.
"I said I’m not jealous."
He was reminded of when he first saw a whistling dagger—how much he had desired it back then.
As he searched through the city, he heard a familiar name in a slum.
"Lord of Battle, Balrog, remain here with us!"
A cultist wielding a rusty sword was invoking Balrog’s name.
The spell caused the cultist’s eyes to glow, one arm to ignite, and transform into a whip.
Occasionally, Balrog would possess human vessels, though this was merely lending a fraction of his power—far from true possession.
Even so, the sight of it irritated Encrid.
"I wish he could hear me. Tell him I’m coming for him soon."
Encrid muttered, his intent clear. If he could locate Balrog, he would charge after him immediately.
The cultist, with flames spewing from every facial orifice, tilted its head in confusion.
This wasn’t a fragment of Balrog but merely a trace of his power. Naturally, one strike was enough.
Encrid shifted his weight, unsheathed his sword, and struck in one motion. The blade flashed as it met the cultist.
Slice. Thud.
The cultist’s head flew, and Balrog’s power faded along with the body’s presence.
Encrid continued his purge, combing through the city for two more days.
The lord, Louis, followed him closely, coming to admire Encrid even more.
"He’s different."
It wasn’t his swordsmanship, reflexes, or strength that amazed Louis. Those were beyond comprehension.
What Louis truly admired was Encrid’s judgment and decisiveness.
What might take someone else a day of deliberation was, to Encrid, a matter of moments.
Was it because of his extraordinary nature?
Or was it purely due to his exceptional abilities?
Louis believed it was the former. Encrid was simply built differently, free of hesitation between decision and action.
How could anyone be like this? Louis found it endlessly fascinating.
Moreover, despite his actions, Encrid asked nothing about the city’s future.
That puzzled Louis even more. Did he have no ambition? With his current influence, he could demand loyalty, and everyone would kneel without question.
While there would be challenges to seizing the city outright, human greed often blinds one to such issues.
This is what they call the blind spot of ambition.
Yet, Encrid seemed solely focused on addressing the city’s problems. What drove his actions?
Louis didn’t know. His own abilities were too limited to grasp Encrid’s true depth. Naturally, he felt a sense of reverence.
Thus, before it was too late, Louis spoke.
"My name is Louis. It may sound shameless, but thank you."
"It was nothing."
Encrid replied, genuinely. To him, it was merely a night’s exercise.
But to others, it was far more than that.
Especially to Louis, who had regained his rights and duties. He now regarded Encrid with nothing but respect.
Such admiration was far from unwelcome.
Especially since Encrid’s demeanor and actions resonated so well with Louis.
Even if Encrid were to rule a foreign city, Louis doubted he’d find anything objectionable.
Still, duty was duty. Encrid expanded the scope of his mission.
Since eliminating the cultists was the goal, he intended to root them all out.
Ordinarily, the deeply entrenched corruption within the city might have remained untouched.
But this task had been undertaken by a Knight infamous for being a calamity.
One blessed with unyielding Will and near-infinite stamina.
By his fourth day in Cross Guard, the city had transformed entirely, as if by a spell.
In the process, new connections were formed.
"What’s your name?"
It was a question to the innkeeper’s child who had been lingering around him for days.
"Delma."
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"I’ll inherit the inn from my uncle."
The boy spoke earnestly, not out of greed but with a sense of duty to the city’s inn.
The uncle nodded, bowing slightly.
"I never thought such a day would come."
In this harsh, lawless city, there was an adult trying to protect a child.
Though they had initially ignored Encrid’s danger to avoid trouble with criminals who laced their food with sleeping poison.
‘Can I really blame them for that?’
Encrid thought not. They had tried to protect the child, even sending subtle signals by poisoning food.
Encrid didn’t want to blame them. Not everyone can live righteously all the time. That didn’t mean he would forgive every crime or wrongdoing.
"You don’t have to do bad things anymore!"
This was the cry of a fool.
The lord decided to take in any reformable criminals and train them as soldiers.
The fool and his group opted out, saying they disliked fighting.
"With things improving, we should consider opening trade routes with the Border Guard. I plan to build boats for a ferry across the Pen-Hanil River."
One man had the skills to build boats. Why he mentioned this to Encrid was unclear.
"Thanks."
Said the fool beside him.
Encrid nodded casually.
Later, he learned that even within the criminal guilds, some had quietly helped the townspeople.
Some had lost fingers for their defiance. Such people weren’t entirely evil.
There were a few like them.
"Here, take this."
After days of clearing out the city, someone he recognized tossed him a shriveled apple.
Biting into it, the mix of tartness and sweetness spread through his mouth. It wasn’t good by any standard.
"That’s the last apple."
The gap-toothed fruit vendor said with a smile that made up for the taste.
This city wouldn’t change overnight. The lord would have to struggle to make it livable, and bad actors would remain.
Even Encrid couldn’t eliminate every wrongdoer.
Distinguishing between them was its own challenge. Instinct alone couldn’t resolve everything.
So, he decided to leave it to the people. It was now their problem to handle.
They would live, fight, cry, get angry, and find joy.
That was life. It was the burden of those striving to protect their days and their home.
"Shall we leave tomorrow?"
Encrid asked Luagarne after a long day.
"Sure."
Encrid answered and spent the night. The eerie gaze he had felt earlier was gone. It must have been the Evil Eye’s spell, now dispelled.
After a good night’s sleep, Encrid ruffled Delma’s hair, trained as usual, and leaned against the tree by the inn, gazing at the sky.
The cool early winter breeze dried his sweat. Looking up, he saw a clear, bright blue sky.
Ha-ha-ha!
In the distance, children’s laughter echoed.
Would it be too cold if he napped here? Perhaps, but he felt like enjoying the moment. Closing his eyes, he drifted off. It wasn’t unpleasant.
The children’s laughter, the blue sky, the cool breeze—everything combined to create a sense of peace.
Perhaps moments like this were the reason he wielded a sword.
Such thoughts crossed his mind.
Though it was still early morning, the city was bustling with activity.
Even the sounds of that busyness felt like a lullaby.
Perhaps it was because the winds of hope now blew through the city.
Beyond that hopeful breeze, a fire approached, one that would burn everything.
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