"I always thought that tracking and hunting didn’t suit me, and I didn’t like them either. To sum it up, it was simply because they weren’t fun. So, what did I do instead of tracking or hunting?"
Odinkar continued speaking.
That was what he chose to say. It ended with a question. Normally, it was the kind of story that would make someone ask, ‘Why are you suddenly asking that?’
In fact, Encrid and Ragna had no idea what he was talking about.
Grida was the one who answered.
"You ran."
"Like an idiot."
Of course, it was Magrun who added that remark. The two of them were used to conversing with Odinkar. Hearing their response, Odinkar nodded.
"Yeah. There aren’t many people who can catch me when I run. Even if someone sets up a trap ahead, I don’t have to follow the regular paths that people take, so the chances of getting caught are low. And if I spot something in advance, I can take care of it before moving on."
Odinkar wasn’t a fool who would recklessly run ahead and expose himself to danger. His plan wasn’t to stick to the path he had been riding on so far, but to step onto the black soil to the left and cross the distant mountains.
"I'm not here to discuss methods, nor am I here to argue about what’s possible or not. Why do you want to go ahead first?"
Grida asked.
They didn’t even know who the enemy was or what their objective was. Did they really need to split up?
Her instincts as a guide told him not to do that.
From a Knight’s perspective, though, it was a suggestion worth nodding along to.
Odinkar had joked about staying back since they left the Border Guard, but before coming here, he kept mentioning that something felt off.
Even after meeting Encrid, he had said he was enjoying himself, yet he felt like this wasn’t the place for him.
"Not a bad idea. There’s no way anything has happened to Zaun. Not a chance. But that doesn’t mean they are completely unaware of what’s going on. I could stop by the hunter’s village on the way and ask for their help in preparing for our arrival."
Magrun added.
The hunter’s village was one of the settlements surrounding Zaun. Those who reached Zaun but failed to receive the family name either returned to their hometowns or, if they had no place to return to, settled nearby. The hunter’s village was one of those settlements.
"So, it’s about efficiency."
Grida nodded. That was the conclusion of Odinkar’s argument.
"If I go ahead, I might trigger whatever trap the enemy has set. But even if that’s not the case, like Magrun said, I can arrive first and inform them of what’s happening here. As for stopping by the hunter’s village, I’m not so sure. If it’s just me, I might as well go straight to Zaun."
Odinkar continued.
As he spoke, he seemed almost ready to burst into a sprint. To Encrid, he looked like he would take off the moment someone shouted, Run!
Whatever the case, he had spoken after carefully assessing the situation.
Knights were not omnipotent. People called them disasters because they could accomplish things beyond the scope of ordinary thought.
But the Knights themselves knew what they could and couldn’t do. Those who didn’t understand that would end up exhausting themselves under the illusion of omnipotence.
What mattered here was that, among this group, all Odinkar could do was match their pace and walk.
Tracking and detection weren’t his strengths.
On the other hand, Magrun excelled at understanding paths and reading situations. Grida, as the guide, was leading them while also analyzing the enemy’s intent from an observer’s perspective.
Technically, one of them could leave while the other stayed. But both had tasks to fulfill here.
In other words, they had no real reason to leave.
But Odinkar? He was like a sword sheathed in its scabbard, useless unless drawn in direct combat.
A sheathed sword wasn’t entirely useless, but trying to fight with it still encased would be foolish.
Odinkar had basic tracking and detection skills, but they weren’t exceptional. He was, in essence, a sword trapped in its scabbard.
So, the best course of action for him might be to leave first.
Encrid wondered whether the sight the ferryman had shown him was of tomorrow or if he was being mocked with another vision of being trapped today.
He had no way of knowing if this choice was the right one.
But he did know that, at this moment, they needed to set things up so that everyone could do what they were best at.
Which meant Odinkar was free to leave.
"Sharp, aren’t you?"
Grida said, as if summing up the situation, directing his words at Encrid.
Encrid nodded and replied,
"That’s what most women say after a few conversations with me. One of my seventeen charms, you could say."
"...Are you really making jokes at a time like this? You crazy bastard."
Magrun shook his head in exasperation, spitting out his usual sharp words. It was as if he would fall ill if he didn’t curse at least once a day.
Encrid looked at him with pity. Why couldn’t he just accept the truth instead of resorting to such prickly words?
It was because of his cynical view of the world.
That cynicism had granted him a sharp eye for dissecting sword techniques, but at the cost of his bitter, contemptuous perspective on life.
That was Magrun’s flaw.
Encrid had learned many things from Sinar, one of them being that jokes should be told with confidence. Another was that no matter what you say, you should always stand tall.
So he did.
"I'm just stating a fact."
"You’re so damn full of yourself, huh?"
And then Grida interjected, following the conversation. Her gaze flicked briefly toward Ann.
Anyone with a brain would realize that the monster had targeted her.
That alone might make her feel like something had gone wrong.
Encrid’s joke just now was, in part, a way to look out for Ann. The Knights in the group might appear composed, but a healer with freckles on her cheeks wouldn’t have the same confidence.
"This is tough to listen to."
Ann, whether she caught onto the intent or was simply reacting by habit, played along with the joke.
As they spoke, a long shadow stretched over the campfire.
"Then, I’ll be off."
It was Odinkar, standing up after hastily gathering his gear.
A heavy backpack would hinder his mobility and be cumbersome in combat. So instead, he carried only a small diagonal bag slung from his waist to his back.
Inside were some simple preserved rations and Knight provisions—meals that, while flavorless, could sustain someone by just adding water. A regular person would find them hard to digest and nauseating, but Knights ate in large quantities and could process them while running.
Before leaving, Odinkar glanced at Encrid one last time.
"See you in Zaun."
Encrid nodded in response.
Odinkar stroked the mane of the horse that had carried him, muttering a word of thanks before striding off into the darkness.
The moon was hidden behind clouds, and as he walked away from the light, he seemed to vanish into the gaping maw of some distant beast lurking in the shadows.
Of course, if such a massive creature were nearby, they would have noticed its scent and presence. It wasn’t really possible.
‘And even if there were one, he’d probably just cut his way out of it.’
Odinkar’s figure faded into the distance. Even within Zaun, he was considered one of the strongest.
That was why no one worried about sending him off alone.
No one knew how things would unfold from here, but for now, this was an option they could take.
Had the others opposed it, Encrid wouldn’t have forced the decision, but they all agreed with his words.
Magrun, deep in thought, turned his gaze toward Encrid.
He watched as Encrid sat by the fire, rummaging through his belongings.
‘Why did I follow Enki’s suggestion so easily? Was it just because it was logical?’
After months of traveling together, was it because he had come to understand that this man’s insight was anything but ordinary?
Or perhaps...
‘Have we unconsciously started following him?’
Encrid had a natural charisma that made people follow his opinions without realizing it.
'There's a reason they call him The Enchanting One.'
Hadn't an entire unit become training fanatics just from watching his relentless dedication to training?
Magrun had seen the transformed Border Guard Reserve Unit. He hadn't known them before, but he knew that there was no other unit on the continent quite like them. They were anything but ordinary.
The only force that could be considered a fair comparison—
'Maybe the Imperial Army.'
He wasn’t sure how they would fare in an actual battle, but in terms of troop quality alone, they were comparable.
"It's actually strange that we're all traveling together like this. We're used to moving alone. Hell, even that Ragna was going off on his own when he was a kid."
It was a comment Grida made in the middle of another conversation.
"The moonlight is all you need to follow the path. There’s no need to make it complicated."
Ragna responded.
"...That bastard is seriously lucky to be alive. Shouldn't he have slipped and died somewhere by now? In the Demon Realm, or off a cliff or something?"
Ragna’s sister voiced her concerns for her brother. The brother, in turn, responded to her worries in his own affectionate way.
"Where do you even keep your eyes? Not only can you not recognize faces, but can’t you even find your way? Why the hell would I walk straight toward a cliff?"
As long as they weren’t actually drawing swords to kill each other, this could be considered a display of affection.
Encrid decided to see it that way.
The two continued exchanging these affectionate words for a while.
"You could just jump down a cliff if you had to. Oh, wait—can't you?"
"You son of a dog. Your way of speaking is starting to sound just like Rem's."
Grida, showing off her experience wandering the continent, threw in some colorful vulgarities. She even mixed in a curse she'd recently picked up.
If Rem had heard it, he might have drawn his axe on the spot.
Listening to their friendly chat made Encrid want to clean out his ears. Even among mercenaries, conversations weren't this brutal.
"I have no idea what’s happening anymore."
"Same here."
Magrun and Ann, having ignored the banter, exchanged comments beside them.
The firelight cast a reddish glow on Ann’s face. Despite the situation, she didn’t speak about turning back. She only said the opposite.
"I have to see that disease."
She hadn’t said it directly or with her own eyes, but the meaning was clear.
"Then do so."
Encrid respected her decision. She had been an impressive girl since the first time he met her.
She saw alchemy as just another method of healing. So, was what she did alchemy or healing magic?
It didn’t matter. She could call it whatever she wanted.
Encrid pulled out his weapons and laid them out beside the fire. It was maintenance time.
Jaxon had once joked that he had as little aesthetic sense as a humanoid dog or Rem, considering how he carried around ten of those crude horned daggers.
Along with those, he also had the Three-Iron Sword and Penna. Just in case, he had also brought a short sword mixed with Valyrian steel.
Keeping his weapons close to his body was a habit. He had none stored on his horse’s saddle. It was something he had learned during his time as a mercenary—not through formal instruction, but by watching others and following suit.
Among mercenaries, carrying weapons directly on their person was common practice.
"You’ve worked as a mercenary before, haven’t you?"
Grida, ever observant, remarked. She had traveled across the continent as well and had, of course, been involved in the mercenary world.
She also took out her weapons and began inspecting them.
Oiling what needed to be oiled, checking for any loose fittings, standard maintenance work.
Ragna and Magrun joined in, and soon, the only sounds were the clinking of metal.
Afterward, they settled into a quiet period of rest. Everyone here knew how to sleep when they needed to.
And so they did. Ann, too, eventually relaxed and drifted off to sleep.
Even as Encrid rested, he kept part of his mind alert, but nothing happened that night.
They woke with the morning sun, stretched, ate, and took care of their necessities before setting out again.
They traveled across dark soil and wide plains, occasionally passing rolling hills.
Some hills were tall enough to block their view beyond, while others barely reached Ann’s waist.
The land stretched on like rolling waves.
As they walked, the gentle spring sunlight shone from above their right.
And then—it happened.
Ahead of them stood a few scattered trees, and from that spot, mist began to spread.
Anyone could see that this was unnatural, an artificial phenomenon. Encrid had encountered something like this before.
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