The first thing that caught his eye was three girls playing with a rope made from twisted tree bark and a boy.
The three girls were playing together, while the boy seemed to be playing the role of the troublemaker.
The boy would sneakily trip the girls and then run away.
"Stop it!"
One of the girls' eyes narrowed angrily.
She seemed genuinely furious. It was a face similar to when Ayul swung her axe at Rem.
The boy quickly moved his feet and darted between the large tents. His steps were swift, like someone who had been running since childhood.
His thin body made him appear even faster.
"Even a Velopter wouldn't bite him."
One of the girls holding the rope glared sharply. Adults often painted designs on their faces, but the children's faces were clean.
This made their skin appear even more clear.
Perhaps it was because they were young, but their skin was also naturally brighter.
Her dark brown eyes glowed fiercely against her tanned skin.
It was because their play had been interrupted.
It seemed like scratching him wouldn't be enough if they caught him.
To Encrid, it seemed like the boy just wanted to join in the play.
As kids his age often do, he was trying to get attention through some mischievous pranks.
Four men working on leather watched and laughed.
"He'll end up with something broken."
"Don't run, just take the hit. It's better that way."
"You'll get hit harder if you get caught."
Their tone was teasing.
It was funny, but there was a dullness to their laughter. Encrid sensed it.
The boy stuck his head out between two large tents and shouted back.
"I just won't get caught."
The adults teased the boy, saying he couldn't run away forever.
The boy didn't seem to care.
As he watched, a growling noise came from behind him.
Of course, Encrid had already sensed it coming.
"Hiya."
A child came riding a Velopter. Encrid turned around.
The child riding the Velopter, with its unripe, soft scales and short stature, met Encrid's eyes. They were at eye level.
"Don't block the hero's path."
The child spoke, and Encrid calmly stepped aside.
A large ox, at eye level with the child, pulled a wagon past them.
"Whoa, let's get out of the way."
The child tapped the Velopter's neck, guiding it to avoid the ox.
The Velopter stepped aside.
The ox was fully grown. It was large enough to crush a man if it charged, but it had gentle, calm eyes and didn't seem likely to get angry.
The man leading the ox paused to let the child pass.
Encrid saw various other people as well.
A woman carrying a basket woven from wood on her back, likely full of herbs.
A man drying grass.
An old man working with a long pole, carving something with a utility knife.
A one-armed man, using his foot to hold down leather, carefully sewing.
"It's charming."
Encrid said as he glanced around.
Despite a faint gloomy atmosphere, it was overall a lively place.
"I told you it's a good place."
Rem replied from beside him.
Indeed, he had said it wasn't wealthy, but it was peaceful.
Encrid also saw it that way. It was a pastoral scene. Simple, with a warm, comforting air.
Baa, baa.
A sheep bleated.
Moo, moo.
A cow mooed.
There were also a few horses, but they all had short legs and thick bodies, better suited for carrying loads than for running.
Perhaps because there was no need for cavalry, only pack horses had survived here.
Though wild horses weren't unheard of in the west, people didn't bother taming and riding them.
There were many tents, but also open spaces here and there. In one such open space, a dozen Velopters, resting on their short front legs, had their heads buried in feeding troughs.
These were the mounts of the westerners.
One Velopter, with vertically slit eyes, looked at Encrid curiously.
It growled and shifted its scales.
Being cold-blooded, they would die if the temperature dropped. This was why Velopters could only be found in the west.
The west was a place where snow was rare, and the climate was mostly warm. No, it was hot.
Even now, sweat dripped down in the heat. But standing in the shade, the breeze could cool the sweat just as easily.
Not everyone walking by looked cheerful.
A one-armed man wiped his sweat and smiled, but a woman passing right in front of him didn't look so happy.
Her short gray hair and gray eyes resembled Rem's.
She carried a basket of grass with a serious expression, walking forward.
There were three children playing where the woman was walking, unintentionally blocking her path.
"Move."
The woman spoke softly and kept walking. She stared straight ahead, as if her gaze was cast far into the distance.
She looked as though she were out of her mind.
As the woman passed, the three children glanced around nervously before laughing again and returning to their game.
It seemed there were some rules to the way they stretched the rope and jumped over it.
They were intensely focused, clearly enjoying themselves.
There were many tents, people, and various individuals engrossed in different tasks.
Looking around, everyone seemed somewhat similar.
Their muscles were shaped by moderate labor and restricted meals, making them appear fit.
There were signs of lack—holes in the tents and other supplies could be seen at a glance. While some faces were filled with worry, most people seemed to be finding their own happiness.
"Is it fascinating?"
Rem asked.
Encrid fell silent, lost in thought.
Oara came to mind for no reason.
She had wanted to see smiling children running around in her city, Oara.
And here, it was just like that.
Lacking, but content.
This made it clear why Rem had said this place was boring to him.
Because they were content with their lives.
These people seemed satisfied with the present. That was the impression.
Despite being obvious outsiders standing at the edge of the open space, no one paid them much attention.
A few passersby gave them a glance, but that was it.
Some children were watching Frog from a distance, fascinated.
"It's a frog."
"It's a frog-man."
It was clear that it was their first time seeing a Frog.
Fortunately, Luagarne didn't consider herself an actual Frog and didn't get offended by such comments. Generally, Frogs didn't cause much trouble unless their goals or the word 'heart' was mentioned.
All these little things combined to create a unique atmosphere.
It was more a life of settling than advancing.
To be precise, it seemed like they just let life flow as it came.
Encrid felt this mood throughout the entire tent city.
But he didn't find it unpleasant.
Rem had warned him that it might be unsettling, but one cannot impose their values or way of life on others.
Just as someone's dream should be respected, these people's way of life deserved respect as well.
That's life.
Everyone is similar yet different, and different yet similar.
There was no reason not to accept the differences born from different continents, nations, and traditions.
And surely, not everyone here was the same.
Just look at Rem.
It's not like there wasn't anyone with a more progressive mindset.
"Who's here?"
Some people recognized them.
Of course, many eyes recognized Rem.
"What's this? Is it Rem?"
"Is it really Rem and not an imitator?"
"I thought Rem was dead."
"I heard Rem was killed. Or was it that someone killed him?"
The last comment left an impression. It came from a man with light gray eyes, much like Rem's.
Rem's wife, Ayul, nodded in response to that comment.
"He will be killed soon."
It was said with such sincerity that it sent chills down his spine.
"What nonsense are you spouting?"
Rem spoke, and Ayul smiled for the first time. Her smile, lifting only one corner of her mouth, was beyond eerie, sending a sense of foreboding.
It triggered the survival instincts of everyone around.
"It's all Rem's fault, isn't it?"
Luagarne spoke. Had she always been this sly?
"That's right."
Dunbachel agreed.
"Rem, apologize."
Encrid quickly chimed in.
It was clear that Ayul held significant influence here. It seemed they might leave without getting even a scrap of food.
If they were told to leave, they'd have no choice but to go.
It didn't seem like anyone would listen to Rem's opinions.
"... Do you even know what you're saying?"
Rem, clearly baffled, looked around at his companions.
No, but it's definitely your fault. Absolutely.
Encrid expressed his resolve with his eyes.
"You've got guts."
Ayul showed a hint of approval. Despite the terrible first impression caused by Rem, things seemed to be improving a little.
Siding with Ayul, Rem muttered,
"Fighting to the death is pointless."
Taking advantage of the slight easing of the mood, Encrid said to Rem.
"Go and apologize. Bow your head every three steps."
"Why don't you just shut up and wait?"
Rem, clearly irritated, didn't say more.
"I'm going to see the chieftain, so stay here."
Rem took a deep breath and spoke.
His expression was much lighter than when he had faced Ayul.
He didn't seem to mind meeting the chieftain at all.
It reminded him of the words about heading west. He had only been worried about confronting his wife.
"Go ahead."
Encrid replied, and Juol stepped in, showing them a place to rest.
It was a secluded tent.
In the West, where the culture of sitting on the floor was developed, they used wide clothes instead of chairs. Inside the tent, such a wide cloth was laid out.
"Just rest here."
Juol said, and Encrid nodded.
The thick padding beneath the cloth was quite soft.
Encrid set down his backpack to one side.
It was a heavy pack, filled with a thick cloak, wooden bowls, and other supplies. Putting it down made his shoulders feel much lighter.
So much lighter that he felt like moving around.
He had thought about many things on the way here, and facing giants had given him a sense of grasping something.
Rising to his feet, he grabbed his sword and stepped out of the tent. Behind him, Dunbachel asked.
"Where are you going?"
"To warm up."
"Later, ask about this smell. What kind of herbs are they burning? It's irritating."
It was the sensitive-nosed beastfolk speaking.
Encrid nodded and asked in return.
"Aren't you bothered by your own smell?"
"It's oddly thrilling when you get used to it."
Encrid almost raised his hand instinctively but stopped himself. His right hand was half-raised. His left hand touched the Gladius hanging from his sword belt.
At that point, he exercised restraint and stopped. What is patience, if not the will to hold back?
Encrid's willpower shone brightly in that moment.
He nearly acted like Rem for a moment, but it wasn't entirely Encrid's fault.
Dunbachel's provocations had a way of evaporating all rationality from a person's mind.
It was even more infuriating because she wasn't doing it on purpose.
"Forget it. If hitting her would make her listen, she would have learned long ago."
Luagarne offered her insight, as one might expect from a Frog.
Dunbachel's persistence in the face of Rem's violence was a testament to her stubbornness.
"I know."
Encrid replied, and Luagarne followed him outside.
He stood in front of the tent, organizing his thoughts while swinging his sword.
Slow once, then fast. Repeat.
There wasn't much else to look at. The large tent blocked the view, leaving nothing more to see.
The stares from earlier, watching them, had also disappeared.
The children, the people absorbed in their work, had all glanced at them at some point, but no one seemed particularly interested.
Encrid swung his sword a few more times, turning inward.
Reflecting on what he had learned today, observing Oara.
Recalling and reviewing everything.
And the experiences he had gained from fighting giants.
"When you keep fighting battles, without realizing it, your balance and posture can subtly shift. That's why you should never neglect your training."
It was the words of a mercenary engrossed in training.
It was something most of the instructors Encrid had met agreed with.
"Of course. It's your everyday training that becomes second nature."
Luagarne nodded in agreement.
Ragna, Rem, Jaxon, and Audin had all offered similar advice.
Not that it had been particularly helpful.
Ragna, in his typical manner, had said even the laziest person should swing a sword at least three or four times a day, which was practically an insult to the concept of 'training'.
Jaxon claimed that as long as you trained your mind, reproducing it physically was easy, implying everyone else was just stupid.
Rem had said you could swing the sword however you liked, making him acutely aware of the difference in talent.
Audin was the one who emphasized training. The Isolation Technique he taught required daily practice.
Not that Audin lacked talent. He simply never stopped training his body.
Thinking of the training and the Isolation Techniques made Encrid feel a sudden wave of nausea.
In the beginning, when he trained three times a day—morning, noon, and night—it had felt like his body was about to break.
That time came back to him.
'Was that called the Triple Practice Technique?'
Training three times a day had left him feeling like he was going to die.
He could barely move a finger afterward.
But if someone asked whether he resented Audin, Encrid would shake his head.
That grueling process, those harsh days, were the reason he could still swing his sword like this today.
"Did you come with Rem?"
A voice broke his concentration, and Encrid snapped out of it.
He hadn't been submerged in the depths of the sea.
But when he activated Focus Point during training, he would often get absorbed like that.
Thoughts would flow, while his body continued its movements.
Of course, he had sensed the approach of someone.
But there was no malice or aggression, so he hadn't bothered.
Encrid's eyes turned forward.
It was a middle-aged woman. She held a long stick in her hand, took a puff, and exhaled smoke. It was a cigarette. The smoke carried a spicy scent.
"Who's burning something?"
Dunbachel poked her head out of the tent and asked.
Encrid didn't answer, instead looking at the two westerners standing behind the woman.
They had similar brown hair and identical faces. Twins.
"You want a spar? Rem told us."
Puff, the smoke drifted in front of her face. The scent was still bitter and sharp.
But within that bitterness, Encrid caught a faintly sweet smell.
Whether the scent was real or not, it felt like it was there.
His sparring opponents had arrived.
That meant they must be skilled warriors from the west.
Just looking at them, it was clear they weren't amateurs.
Seeing them made him feel like he could smell their aura of skill.
"But do you really want to spar?"
The middle-aged woman asked.
Encrid nodded. It was a question that didn't even need to be answered.
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