Encrid had never once been able to send out a healthy Oara in all of today's repeated attempts.
The conditions for that were too difficult.
'Kill the ghoul before Oara steps in.'
In the meantime, Roman fights and kills a spider beast with eight legs as if wielding a sword.
At the same time, he blocks the ghoul's final strike as well.
They cannot afford to repeat a day where either Dunbachel or Rem dies.
While Oara killing the Owlbear was unexpected.
'It's not bad.'
That was the conclusion he came to.
At that moment, the ferryman's words came to mind, out of nowhere.
"Do you know what they call those who walk a harsh path on their own?"
"A saint, perhaps?"
"They call them fools."
The ferryman had relentlessly criticized Encrid.
He didn't mind it at all.
Such criticism was too familiar to him by now.
How many had mocked and ridiculed him when he said he wanted to become a Knight?
It didn't matter at all anymore.
What mattered more was the sense of loss he felt when he couldn't protect what he wanted to protect due to his lack of strength.
That kind of thing was far more important.
He had seen a man fight a monster to protect his family.
He had seen that man die.
And he had seen the family the man was trying to protect.
He had also seen the mercenary scum grinning at the man's lone surviving daughter.
At that moment, Encrid lost all sense of reason.
"Someone stop that crazy bastard!"
"Hey, hey, you bastard!"
"Agh, my ear!"
Encrid had bitten off the mercenary's ear and stabbed a dagger into the back of his neck.
"You… No, forget it. Cool your head."
The mercenary leader spared him but had him imprisoned. That was mercy.
If he had been left alone, the dead man's comrades would have stabbed him to death.
He spent half a year locked away.
He had nothing to do, so he trained his body.
Most of the guards ignored him, but one old man, the chief jailer, asked him a question.
The old man was over fifty.
"Why did you do it?"
"I didn't like the way he smiled."
"Are you mad?"
The jailer freed him.
And after freeing him, he said something that lingered in Encrid's mind for a long time.
"If you have no strength, you can't do anything you want."
As Encrid left the prison, he rubbed his hand over his stubbled chin, irritated by the unkempt beard.
"I'm well aware of that."
His dream was to become a Knight.
He had chosen that dream because he wanted to live a life where he could protect what he cherished.
"Hahaha!"
Oara let out a burst of laughter.
Roooaar!
The fragment of Balrog growled like a beast.
Though he couldn't count precisely, there had been dozens of exchanges between the two.
Oara's 'Laughter' had slashed Balrog's arm and pierced his stomach, but it wasn't enough to kill him.
In fact, when a hole appeared in his stomach, he moved even more fiercely.
Black smoke rose from the wound, and though no special measures were taken, it half-healed without bleeding.
Even while the hole was in his stomach, he swung the red rod in his hand more than dozens of times. He was a monster.
That rod's trajectory spread out like a net over Oara.
Instead of retreating, Oara raised her sword Laughter higher and struck upwards.
The net shredded and scattered in a single blow. A bright light burst forth, and a powerful force swept through the surroundings.
Boom! Rumble.
The ground shook with an explosion. Balrog had stomped the ground as if to break it.
Oara swung her sword.
Something flickered along the shaking blade.
In Encrid's eyes, it looked as though the blade had suddenly multiplied into dozens of copies.
The intangible willpower turned into tangible power through the engraved weapon, sweeping the surroundings.
Balrog did something similar.
Thus, the red rod and the white rod met.
At times, the two rods became whips, at other times, beams of light.
One moment they seemed to bend, the next they stood straight and still, forming walls like steel barriers.
That's how it appeared to Encrid.
Though in reality, the two were merely fighting with swords.
Boom!
With a loud explosion, Balrog's fragment and Oara crossed paths.
It was a fight no one could interfere with. Any interference would only be a hindrance.
This was a Knight's battle.
"Master!"
Roman shouted.
Encrid watched silently.
The fight between Balrog's fragment and Oara didn't last long.
Having glimpsed the realm of omnipotence, Encrid roughly understood the outcome.
Oara would win.
But it was not a fight where one could say that Balrog had lost either.
Rem, who had been knocked down, turned pale. He coughed up blood, likely because a rib had pierced his internal organs.
Of course, he wasn't the kind of guy to die from just that. Instead, he walked over to stand beside them, watching the fight as well.
"We won."
Dunbachel spoke, sitting down after narrowly escaping death.
A long line had been drawn across Balrog's neck. It was not a red line but a black one.
The drawn line severed the beast's head from its body.
Was it a heartbreaking farewell? Or a satisfying one?
Who knows. No one cares about the heart of a beast.
Oara turned around.
Her face was still smiling.
"People die anyway."
She spoke with that smiling face.
Encrid knew that Oara wouldn't live long.
No matter what, it was impossible to save someone who was already dying.
Repeating today wouldn't change anything. Some things remained unchangeable, even in the cursed days that constantly shifted.
"Sigh, that was nice."
Oara spoke, and in her chest was the red rod that Balrog had been holding.
It was a sword resembling a skewer.
Luagarne had said that Balrog used a flaming sword and whip.
That fragment was a half-piece, so that red rod-like sword, which didn't burn, was all it had.
"Roman, take care of the city."
The Knight, with the rod embedded in her chest, spoke.
"Sorry I won't make it to Rowena's wedding."
The master of the city built with a thousand bricks spoke.
"The Demon Realm is over now. So, all that's left is to kill the remaining monsters. No new ones will come."
The hero who always worried about tomorrow spoke.
Without Oara, this city wouldn't exist.
If not for her, this place would have already become part of the Demon Realm.
"Thank you, Encrid."
She acknowledged what Encrid had done.
"Ah, that was fun."
That was the last.
Where there is a beginning, there is an end.
Flying high means eventually coming down to the ground.
Living is walking toward death.
The only thing left is to choose what to do along that path.
There's no need to regret the road not taken.
Such regrets hold no meaning in life.
What matters is making an effort to make whatever you choose the right choice, as that is what makes life fulfilling and beautiful.
Encrid sheathed Aker and stood tall.
Then he placed his hand on his right hip. It was a promise to control his weapon well.
It was the beginning of a gesture to show respect to the person before him.
Then he bowed his head. It was something he could do out of respect for her effort.
It was a salute.
"Oara."
Encrid spoke her name as a call.
And he watched the last moments of the Knight who died with a smile.
* * *
Two Junior-Knights handled the situation, and Asia dragged her exhausted body to take care of the aftermath.
On the battlefield, anyone could die.
Knights are not immortal.
Everyone knew that.
"The master was dying."
A short-haired blonde soldier approached and said such words. The soldier lit a torch. Few people were crying.
There was much work to be done to clean up the battlefield. All the city's citizens came out to lend a hand.
Roman carried Oara's body.
The body was placed in the house where she had lived. There was no coffin yet.
It almost felt like she might jump out at any moment tomorrow, shouting,
'Surprised, kids!'
But of course, that wouldn't happen.
The Knight Oara was dead.
Encrid washed the blood off his body.
Outside, the noise continued due to the movements of the troops setting up the night watch.
Encrid returned to his quarters, washed up, lay down, and closed his eyes. He fell asleep just like that. He dreamed of the ferryman.
"Do you want to turn back today? But there are some things that never change. Like how the roll of a die doesn't change."
The ferryman mixed in incomprehensible words. There were a few terms he didn't understand.
He could only vaguely guess the meaning.
What is this place where the Gods have stayed?
"If you stayed in today, you wouldn't have had to witness that death forever."
The ferryman's tone was seductive.
But it wasn't enchanting. From the beginning, his goal had been singular.
Seeing Oara satisfied, seeing her smiling.
Watching a proper Knight fight was just a secondary goal.
Encrid had seen Oara satisfied, and he had seen her smiling.
He had seen a hero die with a smile, so he wasn't tormented.
What he had wanted to protect was her smile.
Not a pitiful life extended by abandoning what needed to be protected and running away.
Encrid fell back into sleep without a word. The ferryman's figure faded, and the sound of the waves grew distant.
Then he truly dreamed. This time, it was a real dream.
A dream where the ferryman did not appear.
It was a collection of random thoughts, reconstructed from the memories remaining in his mind.
Memory and information randomly mixed and popped out.
"Hey, how's my city?"
Oara asked, standing on the wall, draped in a red cape.
Encrid suddenly found himself standing next to her. He didn't have a cape.
If it's a dream, at least give me a cape.
My back feels empty.
"How is it?"
"It's good. It looks good, and it's a good place to live."
"Then will you stay?"
There was no need to think about it, so he shook his head.
"You're still going to become a Knight?"
Maybe it was because it was a dream, but the way the conversation started was a mess.
No, Oara was always like this.
She'd throw out impulsive questions.
But every one of them struck with the sharpness of a blade that pierced to the core.
"Yes."
"Well, I think you'll make it. Anyway, thanks again. Wow, at the end, it was really close."
"Was it?"
"You didn't see it properly, did you? Come here, I'll show you how I did it."
In the dream, Oara re-enacted her fight with Balrog. Encrid took Balrog's place at times, and at other times, he took Oara's place, memorizing each movement.
"When you raise your sword like this, you can expect the bastard to slyly trip you up."
"Is that prediction?"
"It's intention."
In that brief skirmish, countless strategies had been mixed in.
It was incredible that she could calculate all this while using her willpower at full strength.
"Right now, you're using will with intention layered over it, right? But once you get used to it, you'll be able to wield it without effort. Will."
Oara generously taught him everything.
They chatted like that for a long time. Since it was a dream, he wasn't sure, but it felt like it could have been a day or a month.
"Farewell."
Oara said her cheerful goodbye and pressed her lips to Encrid's cheek with a quick peck.
When Encrid gave her a look that asked, 'What was that?' the hero in the dream answered.
"A thank-you kiss."
It didn't seem to have any other meaning. It was just a show of friendship or gratitude as she said. Oara was still Oara, even in the dream.
Oara faded away, and behind her, the shadow of Balrog appeared.
The dead beast placed chains around Oara's neck.
Why? Was it because this was a dream?
For a dream, it left an unsettling last impression.
Encrid woke up. It was dawn. When he went outside, he saw Roman.
"Awake?"
Roman asked. His face was pale, and he looked exhausted.
"It seems like you didn't sleep."
Encrid said, seeing Roman's face.
"I slept."
Roman gave a blunt reply.
But it was a face that looked extremely bothered, despite having slept.
Roman, who had fought against the spider creature, had a deep wound on his arm. His arm was heavily bandaged.
"For a moment, Master appeared in my dream and told me not to do anything foolish."
Roman, loosening his troubled expression, began to talk about his dream.
It was very different from the dream Encrid had.
"Is it an unconscious manifestation left by her Will?"
The sudden words were Luagarne's. She was coming out of her quarters.
It was only natural that she would come out since Encrid had woken up and come out as well.
"Balrog takes the souls of those he kills. He molds them with hellfire, keeping them as trophies."
What is a soul? Everyone with intelligence possesses one.
"Then?"
Encrid added a prompt. It was a way of saying, 'If you have more to say, go on.'
Luagarne did just that.
"The reason Balrog scatters fragments is for this. His nickname is Soul Collector. In the Great Demon Realm, they also call him the Knight Hunter. He's a monster with a hobby of collecting those who fight beyond the limits of their species."
He ignores worthless souls. He watches those with great potential. Sometimes, he even raises them.
And when they become strong, possessing a body and skills at their peak, Balrog would pounce on them like a starved dog.
Outwardly, he would display all the courtesy, but he lived indulging in his desires.
There was such a monster.
A monster with true intelligence.
On the continent, they called such beings 'Demon Lords'.
"Then, is the Master's soul with Balrog now?"
Roman asked. The flames flickered in his eyes.
"Probably."
No sooner had Luagarne finished speaking than Encrid spoke.
"Ah, I see."
Normally, such a casual remark wouldn't carry any special meaning, but it rang out with a certain weight.
'Ah, I see' — those words.
When Encrid said them, they didn't sound ordinary.
It resonated more than any declaration to 'just wait and see'.
For now, there was nothing they could do.
Even if they went to the Great Demon Realm, Balrog was not an easy monster to encounter.
But as Encrid ascended the path of a Knight,
And as he continued to move forward, even after becoming a Knight,
"I'll be first."
Roman said. He understood the meaning behind Encrid's words.
"Become a Knight. Then, kill Balrog."
Encrid added one more ornament to his dream.
The requiem for the hero would be played then.
The song of encouragement that couldn't be heard in time, the dance that couldn't be performed—he would replace it all by killing Balrog.
That was what he would do.
Luagarne, who saw his blue eyes quietly burning with a fire that would never be extinguished, spoke.
"It's dangerous."
When Encrid didn't respond, Luagarne continued.
"You won't listen even if I try to stop you, will you? Just remember that becoming an ordinary Knight won't be enough."
From the beginning, Encrid had never dreamed of becoming just an ordinary Knight.
The Knight from the ballad was a Knight called 'The End of War'.
And the meaning behind those words was a power capable of ending all battles.
From the very beginning.
It wasn't just about becoming a Knight. His dream was to become a Knight who could do anything he set out to do.
He had glimpsed a piece of omnipotence.
Encrid knew that his dream was now within his reach.
All that was left was the process of closing his hand around it. That's what he thought.
Of course, the road wouldn't be easy.
It had never been easy up to this point.
But that wouldn't make him afraid, nor would it stop him.
As it had always been.
As it had always been.
( Hey readers, I hope you're enjoying the novel so far. I received a bad news two days ago. My buymeacoffee account got suspended permanently and I have lost all those members. I any of the member of that platform is reading this, you can subscribe to the same memberships on this platform. And to my regular readers, please support me in these difficult times. I don't know why this is happening to me. First my free sites got suspended and now my paid site got suspended too. I am now working on building my own novel website where all the novels will be available and no one will be able to interfere with that site. So please support me guys.)
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