"Ahhh!"
"It's a monster!"
"Run!"
Except for a few, the nearby enemies retreated in droves.
Amid the retreating waves stood a steadfast rock—a crusader radiating a gray holy light. He assessed the oncoming attackers.
‘They fight well.’
The sudden intruders were in the thick of battle, but their identities were unclear.
Mercenaries? Or had the monastery called for reinforcements?
He noticed navy blue cloaks but couldn’t discern the emblem engraved on them.
He simply recognized them as skilled opponents.
And that recognition was enough.
‘Where did these people come from?’
One reason Muel arrogantly mimicked and invoked the Gods was the absence of divine intervention, but another reason lay in the remarkable talents that had gathered under him.
Where there’s power, there’s purpose. A strong figure could claim to create a new God if they wished.
It symbolized the level of force they had amassed.
Half of the crusaders were assembled here, and that said it all. One of those witnessing Encrid was among the elite "Libra Crusaders".
‘Could it be someone secretly trained by Lord Overdeer?’
There were widespread rumors of Prophet Overdeer leading his forces.
But why launch a surprise attack now? Was there a tactical advantage?
It didn’t seem so.
Then why? Without resolving his doubts, the crusader acted.
Rather than questioning their actions, the crusader realized that breaking their momentum was more urgent.
One figure swung dual swords in silence, yet his movements disrupted the army.
It wasn’t fire driving away insects, but it worked just as effectively to scatter soldiers.
"Haah."
The crusader spurred his horse. His warhorse carried him forward.
Similar scenes unfolded elsewhere. Several crusaders, trained in strategy and tactics from childhood, targeted those slicing through the army. This included Rem and Ragna.
"This ends here."
One of the Libra Crusaders thrust his sword as he spoke. He had taken a flanking position, approached silently, and wielded a thin blade characteristic of his craft. It was a stealthy ambush.
Encrid had long noticed the approach. He had been ambushed by Jaxon before and learned his lesson.
Jaxon had said that even an assassination master like Geor’s Dagger wouldn’t be enough to kill him.
So how could he fall to such simple swordplay? He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t.
Encrid moved his sword with just enough force. He angled Ember diagonally to intercept the sword’s trajectory.
Ting.
The clashing blades diverted the attack.
‘He blocked it?’
The crusader’s face betrayed his confusion. Nonetheless, he pressed his blade against Encrid’s, trying to push him off balance, knowing he rode bareback.
It was a foolish attempt.
Odd-Eye snorted disdainfully and helped Encrid maintain stability by slightly shifting its hind legs. Encrid smoothly twisted his waist and rammed his head into the mounted enemy.
Thump!
Whinny!
"What the—?"
The crusader exclaimed in shock as his startled warhorse stumbled, throwing him off balance.
Silently thankful for Odd-Eye’s unexpected help, Encrid thrust his Jin-Silver sword.
Without a saddle, the crusader couldn’t steady himself, but Odd-Eye naturally arched its back to support Encrid’s lower body.
With Odd-Eye’s help, Encrid adjusted his hips and shoulders, focusing only on the thrust. His precise control and striking technique pierced the gap between the crusader’s armor plates.
No armor could perfectly encase the body.
Especially not a plate armor.
Squelch.
With a sickening sound, the sword fulfilled its role. A hole was punched through the crusader’s neck, and blood spurted out with a whooshing noise.
Almost simultaneously, Rem buried his axe in another crusader’s forehead.
Thump!
"Do I look like a passing ghoul to you?"
His opponent was another wielder of gray holy light, swinging a flail. Rem abandoned his spear, smashed his head with his axe, and punched his horse’s head.
Naturally, the crusader struck by the axe couldn’t respond. Dead men tell no tales.
The horse was no exception. Though not as monstrous as Audin, Rem’s fists were enough to count as deadly weapons.
The crusader, his eyes bulging, lay sprawled on the ground. Next to him, his horse had also fallen—a small solace in death.
Ragna, meanwhile, slashed through both man and horse with a single stroke. He charged forward and delivered a powerful strike as the next opponent approached.
The blow carried an intensity amplified by his Will and further bolstered by techniques stolen from Encrid.
Whinny!
The excessive force on his horse’s legs caused it to buckle, but Ragna deftly redistributed his weight and continued his swing.
Even if the strike lost some force, it was enough to cut through the opponent.
Slash.
He cleaved through the plate armor, the horse, and the crusader in one sweep.
The body of the crusader split in two, and the horse’s head was severed.
The three crusaders responsible for this area had fallen, each overwhelmed in a single attack.
On top of that, Encrid’s relentless assault on the most spirited enemies further disoriented the opposition.
"Run!"
"Ahhh!"
"Monsters! They’re demons!"
"Save me! Mother!"
"Lorna, Lorna!"
Screams of terror echoed, and the area began to clear as fear spread. Encrid observed the path opening before him.
Ragna and Rem’s surroundings were similarly quiet. The Mad Knights converged around Encrid.
"Let’s go."
Encrid advanced like someone out for a casual stroll. As he walked, he reflected on the recent situation.
It had been instinctive, but he considered the process that had led to that decisive moment.
What was the cause? How had it happened?
For most geniuses, reflection might be unnecessary, but Encrid wasn’t one of them, so he analyzed each step.
And he realized.
‘Accelerated thought.’
Slashing the Walking Fire had given him more than just the ability to unleash explosive willpower.
Through countless repetitions, Encrid had honed his ability to accelerate his thinking.
It was desperation—struggling to find solutions in short bursts of time.
That accumulated desperation had condensed into heightened judgment, shining in moments like these.
‘Not bad.’
His grip on the sword made by Eitri felt perfect.
The front of Noah’s monastery was tangled with thorn bushes and littered with broken wooden stakes, remnants of a former palisade.
The jagged edges of snapped wood, visible fibers, and rough brown grains testified to a battle that had already occurred.
Bloodstains were visible, along with a few bandaged archers and a man in iron plate armor guarding them.
The man in the armor spoke. His face looked weary, but his eyes were clear.
"Who are you?"
His question was full of doubt. Understandable, given they had resigned themselves to death, only for a small group to carve through the enemy lines.
Not just that, they had scattered the opposition and slain three crusaders without showing signs of exhaustion.
Even seeing the three bodies from afar, it was hard to believe.
Who were these people?
They were figures even he couldn’t guarantee victory against.
The man was desperate for them to be allies, even as he cautiously asked the question.
His wish was granted. He’d vaguely hoped they were friendly.
"I’m acquainted with Abbot Noah. May I enter?"
The black-haired, blue-eyed figure spoke. His confident gaze, unshielded by a helmet, radiated assurance.
The armored man wanted to nod but hesitated.
Just a few days ago, an internal betrayal had nearly killed Noah, and he had saved him.
Conveniently, Noah was right behind him. One of the Cult Extermination Order priests turned to look back.
The kind shepherd, now missing an eye, stared with surprise before speaking.
"Why are you here?"
It was a question born from seeing an unexpected face and wondering why they had come.
Under the priest’s watchful eye, the man replied.
"For a cup of tea."
It was a simple answer. Encrid recalled a previous conversation and used it as an excuse.
"Next time I come, offer me some good tea."
Yes, that’s what he’d said. Noah remembered too. He had even dried some decent tea leaves, not expensive but drinkable, just for that occasion.
Even after two days of starvation, he hadn’t touched the tea leaves. They were a luxury, not a necessity.
"Do you have tea?"
Encrid asked again.
"Yes."
Noah replied, bewildered.
"Then let’s go."
There was no gate, only thorn bushes and a wooden palisade blocking the narrow path. Just as an Cult Extermination Order member had climbed over the wall earlier, the group followed suit.
They couldn’t bring the horses over, so while some created gaps in the palisade, Encrid’s horse simply leaped over.
Without even a running start, it stepped back a few paces and leaped over the barrier. Even the stunned enemy soldiers gawked at the sight.
"Wow."
"Amazing."
Cheers erupted among the enemies. Those inside the monastery, holding hastily made spears, were even more astonished.
"Whoa!"
"Gah!"
One person fell on their backside, shocked and scared.
"It doesn’t bite."
Encrid dismounted nonchalantly and walked forward. Noah followed him.
Watching the events unfold, Sinar asked Luagarne.
"He looks embarrassed. Am I seeing this correctly?"
Rem chuckled and answered instead.
"You see right. He’s too shy to admit he came to help, so he says he’s here for tea. That lunatic is surprisingly bashful."
Sinar nodded, not bothering with Fairy-style jokes in Encrid’s absence.
Luagarne puffed her cheeks in amusement.
"Come to think of it, he always says things like that. Last time, he claimed he’d just swung his sword a few times."
Saving an entire city, and all he said was that he’d swung his sword.
If you broke it down, he’d swung it far more than once.
"Exactly. He couldn’t say, ‘I saved you, so worship me’, even if you beat him to death. But when people like him, he can’t hide his joy. Didn’t you know?"
Rem laughed, teasing alongside the others. Ragna spoke up after hearing them.
"Was it necessary to enter indirectly? Why not from the front?"
It was a genuine question about why they moved toward the Captain instead of entering where Ragna was stationed.
Rem responded with exasperation.
"Someone put a compass in that idiot’s head already."
Jaxon silently walked slightly apart from the group. He felt staying too close would lower his dignity.
To an outsider, it was all the same. In such circumstances, calmly maintaining an exact distance wasn’t ordinary behavior.
Pel, Lawford, and Teresa might have felt out of place once, but after years with the Border Guard, they had adjusted.
"How about a spar to celebrate our arrival?"
Lawford proposed to Pel.
"Count me in too."
Teresa joined.
"Someone with your talent could never catch up to me."
Pel replied, causing Lawford to scoff.
At some point, Pel had gone from secretly training to openly pushing himself to exhaustion in plain view. Yet, he still talked about talent.
Pel had become the Border Guard’s most hardworking member, though he denied it.
"No, I’m just naturally talented."
He insisted.
Thus, the Mad Knights moved through the monastery, with everyone witnessing the spectacle.
After two days of starvation, hope seemed extinguished. To many, life had become a story with a foregone conclusion.
Some had considered ending their own lives but refrained, knowing suicide was the gravest sin to the faithful.
They had been enduring when the group arrived, seemingly too carefree.
Unable to contain himself, the Cult Extermination Order priest guiding them asked:
"Who are you?"
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