1066. Madman’s Survival Method
“That’s amazing insight. You’re a bewitching knight.”
The old fortune teller spoke without moving her foot. Encred was right. To survive in the Beastman city of the Cave, knowing how to handle one’s own body was essential.
One had to know how to draw water and walk on steep paths, and use only a single harpoon when catching fish.
It was not so much to cultivate the qualities of a warrior, but simply the minimum preparation necessary to survive at any moment.
This was not something created by the Council of Elders, but a tradition passed down from generation to generation since their ancestors. After all, for Beastmen, mastering how to control their own bodies is part of their culture.
“If only I were ten, no, twenty years younger.”
The old woman muttered. Her gaze toward Encred was deep. It seemed to subtly reveal what she desired.
What a bold dream.
The fairy retorted expressionlessly. Esther stood silently to the right of Encred, merely walking on all fours, while the leopard’s eyes, looking at the old beastman ahead, were truly icy cold.
“That fairy is older than you…….”
Temares, resembling Encred, opened his mouth to cheer on everyone’s dreams but was stopped. Before he knew it, the spirits were silently pulled out and aimed at his neck.
You may continue speaking.
Sinar spoke, but the part that followed was omitted.
It meant that he was free to speak if it was acceptable even if his head were severed and flew through the air.
It is chaotic.
Enkrid stopped Sinar. The old fortune teller stepped forward again.
It’s a joke.
At the remark, Encred’s brow furrowed briefly before relaxing. Doesn’t it somehow resemble Sinar’s beginning?
“What starts as a joke often turns into the truth. Be careful.”
Sinar warned.
“I will.”
The old fortune teller did not resist the fairy who was several times older than herself. Although Yongin had not finished speaking, the meaning was fully understood.
Dunbakel had resolved to act confidently based on their conversation last night, but a lingering unease remained. Furthermore, believing this man was fully entitled to know, he stayed close to Encred and spoke in a whisper.
I had my fortune told yesterday, and it said that if I go to the temple, good and bad things will happen together.
Just then, the words of the boatman from the dream I had last night, who had acted as if there was something in the temple, came to mind.
The old fortune teller was walking about five steps ahead. The cave was dark, and there were no glowing stones to illuminate the surroundings.
There was a distinct scent unique to beastmen, but even that was faint. Encred’s five senses were not as keen as Dunbakel’s, but sensitive enough to distinguish it when necessary.
The smell, the sound, and the light.
It is a path I have to find by memorization, without anything to rely on. They say the way to guard treasure is to ensure no one finds it.
Considering that, though, he lets outsiders in quite easily, including himself.
But if I were told to find my way back later after leaving here, would I be able to do it alone? That might be a bit difficult. Encred is usually good at memorizing paths, but having gone around in circles, he had long since forgotten the way.
Thinking this, Encred asked back.
“So?”
“I think there’s something in the temple, a demon? Anyway, something like that?”
It is spoken in the realm of feeling and instinct. Encred had a similar intuition. Furthermore, besides the two, there were three more people here who were extremely sensitive.
Not all witches practice divination, but they all possess a sixth sense for ominous signs. Today is an ominous day from the morning.
That was Esther’s remark. Encreed recalled the sky he had seen before arriving. Half of it was bathed in sunlight, while the other was covered in dark clouds. It was a strange day.
The sky looks like a painting where two artists have fully revealed their own tastes.
Sinar had said so, and it looked as if the sky had split in two and was competing.
The city of the beastmen is overflowing with vitality, filling even the fairies with a pleasant scent.
It was a voice that interrupted my thoughts. A fairy spoke from behind on the left.
There is no pleasant scent here.
To be precise, it would be more accurate to say that the vitality was fading. Encred felt the same way.
Only Temares walked in silence. They entered a new cave and walked for quite a while.
Judging by the sense of time, it was past noon and just as the sun was beginning to set. It was a place they had reached after walking steadily along with the passage of time.
A hollow space large enough for fifty people to stand in appeared, and in the center, a rectangular stone sarcophagus stood with an old sword stuck in it.
This is the temple of Kriemhardt.
The old fortune teller spoke. This place was subtly bright. Upon looking to see why, it was because a crimson light was spreading softly in all directions.
The source of the light was a sarcophagus and a sword. It wasn’t blinding, yet the light filled the cavity, except for a few secluded corners.
In terms of position, the old fortune teller was at the very front, followed by Encred and Dunbakel, while Sinar and Esther walked together just a step apart. Temares was at the very back.
No sooner had the old fortune teller finished speaking than Esther, who had transformed into a leopard, grew larger. Her black robe fluttered, revealing the white flesh beneath. Regardless of
whether part of her body was visible or not, Esther formed a hand seal and chanted a spell. In the meantime, Sinar and Temares drew their swords.
Encred watched the old woman’s figure scatter like a mirage. An illusion? No, it is isolation.
The sensation of being isolated from the world was a fact confirmed by a feeling they had experienced when trapped in the previous dimension, a sensation they had become accustomed to thanks to spending days repeating themselves within it, dying time and time again.
The eyes of Esther, Sinar, and Temares caught sight of the sword protruding from Encred’s side.
It was not a familiar blade shape. The blade was thin and long. Where did it come from?
The front. To be precise, it was a sword held in the hand of a beastman called Dunbakel. The hair of the beastman who had thrust the sword rippled and swayed uncontrollably.
It moved as if he had fallen into water.
Enki.
Sinar opened his mouth. His voice was slightly louder than usual. It was a cry from a fairy that would rarely be heard. Encred had been struck in the side. However, his muscles were not torn, nor had he lost any flesh.
His body had felt so empty in the dream where the boatman appeared. Hadn’t he dreamt while completely stripped of his armor? Although he was already well-equipped, he had dressed even more carefully this time.
The blade thrust by Dunbakel merely grazed the leather armor of the War God. Of course, this was because Encred had twisted his waist appropriately to dodge it.
The thin shirt he wore over it was torn in half from below his chest, hanging loosely and fluttering with his movements.
Without a battle cry or a scream, Dunbakel twisted his body and swung the thrusting sword upward. His continuous motion was accompanied by uninhibited momentum.
If he had fought like this during a sparring match, Encred would have praised Dunbakel twelve more times.
As soon as he felt the force of the upward strike, he dodged to the side. He kicked off the ground, drew his sword, aimed, and gathered intimidation to crush his opponent. It was a technique that restrained the opponent’s limbs with a heavy sword.
Everything happened in an instant. Dunbakel turning around to thrust, and the subsequent situation as well.
“……Are you laughing?”
Dunbakel effortlessly shook off Encred’s intimidation and raised the corners of his mouth. It was a smile. A very relaxed smile, an expression Dunbakel had never once worn before.
“at las.”
Dunbakel muttered.
Encred tore off his cumbersome shirt and threw it while keeping his sword aimed. A fluttering piece of cloth flew to the side. The two faced off for a brief moment.
I’ll open it right away.
Esther spoke from outside the thin barrier in the isolated space. Encreed did not answer, but turned his gaze left and right. Just
because he looked away did not mean he had withdrawn his attention from Dunbakel standing before him. Knowing this, Dunbakel did not attack recklessly either.
It’s not that the old fortune teller disappeared.
He fainted and tumbled to one side, sprawled out. Lying on his side with blood streaming from his nose, it seemed he had taken a physical blow. Still, he hadn’t died.
A wall appeared toward Esther, Sinar, and Temares. The translucent wall allowed them to see each other but could not pass through.
Encred did not panic under any circumstances. There were too many days they had crossed to be flustered by something like this.
Dunbakel’s golden eyes deepened until they began to glow red. She smiled quietly, then suddenly grabbed her hair with her left hand and swung the sword in her right to cut it.
White hair was severed with a thud. A portion of the remaining hair glowed golden.
“That feels good. Why does she grow her hair this long?”
Dunbakel asked. Right, judging by the way he was speaking, it wasn’t Dunbakel.
Encreed watched Dunbakel silently for a moment, then placed Oneul on his shoulder. Although his posture looked sloppy, the Will swirling around his entire body was ready to fight at any moment.
Recalling a few facts and even the boatman who appeared in his dream last night, it wasn’t difficult to guess who his opponent was.
“Primahild?”
“Yes, I have returned. Ah, this air of the living, this prisoner’s body. World, I have come.”
She smiled broadly as she spoke. Suin, feeling an unparalleled joy and ecstasy, trembled violently.
“At this rate, I’ll be going standing up. It’s because I’m so happy, so happy. I will fight again and I will go to meet Kriemhart.”
As she spoke and stretched her right hand out to the side, parallel to the ground, a rusty sword that had been glowing crimson at the center of the cavity flew toward her hand.
The blade, with a handle that looked as if it would crumble at any moment and heavily rusted, shed its skin. Like a snake shedding its skin, the outer surface shattered and scattered.
Now, take a look…
Primahilt, residing within Dunbakel’s body, paused in expression of joy and instantly plunged into a world of silence. It was thanks to reacting exactly as his instincts dictated. His
golden eyes, tinged with crimson, rolled downwards. Unable to lower his head, he moved only his eyeballs to identify the figure approaching him.
Encred had crouched low and was drawing his sword upwards from below.
Should I call it an astonishing reaction speed, or a fellow relentlessly looking for an opening?
He waits for the brief moment I open my mouth. If he intended to do this, why didn’t he do it from the very beginning? Is he doing this because he thinks I let my guard down more now than I did back then?
Maybe.
With the acceleration, Primahild twisted her left ankle at an abnormal angle and kicked off the ground as if squeezing it.
Bang, pop!
The two swords did not meet. Instead, only the sound of kicking the ground remained. The ground where Encred had stood cracked and shattered, and where Dunbakel—or Primahild—had been, hairline cracks appeared around the area, leaving footprints imprinted in the earth.
Their gazes met once again.
“You fool who doesn’t even know foreplay.”
“……Were you able to get out?”
“I’ve been waiting all this time for that very reason. Curious how I got out? Then cut me down. If you do, I’ll show you.”
Dunbakel’s face showed a smile different from usual. The beastman, who had held his sword vertically, slowly lowered it forward and spoke again.
If you have the ability, give it a try.
* * *
Dunbakel lost her memory for a moment and then woke up. She found herself collapsed on the floor. As soon as she woke up, she sprang to her feet and looked inside the cavern, at the sarcophagus and the sword. At the same time, she also saw a woman sitting diagonally in front of the sarcophagus.
There was no one around except herself and that woman. She had no idea how this had suddenly come to pass.
“who?”
When asked, the woman sitting on the sarcophagus looks at him. Her eyes are the same golden color as his.
“It is good to meet you. Descendant, prepared by my arrangements, who has finished getting ready to become another me.”
“What are you talking about?”
Dunbakel frowned at the incomprehensible words. He felt strange. Oddly, he was drawn to that woman. It wasn’t even this much when he first saw Encred.
“Are you ready to fight?”
“What?”
“Ready to battle fear?”
“Do you know me?”
Regardless of any attraction, he forcibly heightened his wariness. In the meantime, the woman’s golden eyes gradually turned red. They had transformed into a golden hue mixed with bright red and crimson.
“Are you ready to live?”
“I asked who you are.”
Dunbakel aimed the sword he had suddenly grasped forward. It was the scimitar he usually used. Its moderately curved blade was well-suited for slashing, yet not bad for thrusting either.
“If you aren’t ready, you’ll just be dreaming here for the rest of your life.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than his opponent lunged at him. After kicking the ground a few times, he was suddenly right in front of him.
Dunbakel dodged, swinging his sword outward with the intention of blocking. The opponent relentlessly pursued him, parried his swing, and thrust into his stomach.
It was a blade that ripped through his intestines with a deep thud. The opponent’s sword was slightly shorter than his own, and while sharpened on only one side, it was a nearly straight line.
Pain surged from his abdomen, and a gush of hot liquid gushed from his mouth. Fresh blood trickled down his lips and soaked his chest.
He had suffered a severe injury instantly. No, a massive hole had been torn in his stomach—so large that he would have had no excuse even if he had died immediately.
“If you run away first when the opponent attacks, this is what happens. My descendant.”
With the words, the world vanished. Pitch-black darkness surged in. Dunbakel felt the pain dull and opened his eyes again.
Opening his eyes again? What happened?
The question arose but vanished to one side of his mind at the words he heard.
“Alright, are you ready to fight?”
The beastman with the eyes of a savings account asked. Somehow the wound had vanished, and only the female beastman standing against the backdrop of the sarcophagus, just like before, was visible.
What is this now?
Dunbakel gritted her teeth. This was not the time to lose focus due to distracting thoughts. She would put the question aside. Her jaw muscles creased through her skin. Fighting half-heartedly would lead to defeat. Dunbakel steeled her resolve.
She had to prove that the time spent with Enkrid was not wasted. Just moments ago, she had retreated, consumed by fear, and that was her downfall.
It was a lesson learned from a single battle. While she was influenced by what her opponent had told her, one learns even from an enemy if necessary. Didn’t Enkrid do the same? So, she would simply do the same.
“You’ve become cautious. Suin shouldn’t fight like that.”
The opponent charged again with his horse. It was a charge without looking back. Dunbakel died again.
“Ready to battle fear?”
Suin, with eyes like savings, asked again. The wounds had vanished, leaving only himself and the woman sitting diagonally in front of the sarcophagus. It felt like an unfinished nightmare.
“Damn, who are you?”
Dunbakel would have questioned and argued like this in the past, but not now.
If the situation was already twisted anyway, what could be done?
Instead of lamenting the present, he simply struggled for the sake of tomorrow.
It was a madman’s way of life derived from Enkrid.
