Chapter 755 – Minotaurus
Before they were called Eroders, long before even their forebears, this all began.
As for why they served the demon god, the reason was simple: when their ancestors first settled
here, it was the demon god who helped them.
That alone justified their worship.
The demon god accepted offerings, sometimes demanded sacrifices—but by now, they had no
choice but to continue.
It was survival.
'O Demon God.'
They didn't even know the demon god's true name.
They carved a symbolic idol to venerate, but even that—who could say if it really resembled the
demon god?
A round wooden disc, blackened by flame and mounted atop a long stick, it was the Black Sun.
It was meant to one day blot out the light of the world, so the god could descend upon this land.
At least, that's what the so-called priest told them.
He was the one who had taught them everything they knew—how to live like this.
"Worship."
The priest commanded, and they obeyed.
To not worship was to die.
No one else would protect them here.
In their current state, they could never return to the world of humans.
If they had no one to serve, they would all die.
Even if their neighbors, families, and friends vanished into the Demonic Domain…
Even if the priest took some of their newborns…
They had to endure it all.
They had given up on thinking for themselves, content merely to survive.
They entrusted all decisions and judgments to another being.
Such dependency could not simply vanish overnight.
In truth, it likely never could.
These people could not survive without leaning on something.
Just as fish cannot live outside water.
Decades of habitual dependence could not be undone in a day.
The Eroders' village was the complete opposite of the reclusive one hidden within the Pen-Hanil
Mountains.
Several people had come in the name of justice to punish the Eroders' village—but all of them
had died.
The monsters the priest dispatched always struck down those intruders.
To what extent did the demon god's protection reach?
Did monsters only attack when the boundary was crossed?
Was the demon god always watching?
No—it wasn't quite like that.
"There's a relic buried here."
Even before Jaxen spoke, Enkrid had sensed something off.
Shinar had been complaining of headaches the entire time they stayed.
"My head aches, fiancé. I need something to lean on."
Though not to the point of collapsing, Shinar didn't hide her discomfort.
But she wasn't disappointed either—she'd guessed the relic's nature and shared it.
Even apart from Jaxen's sharp intuition, her fairy senses and control of spirit essence were
perfectly suited for identifying a buried relic.
Especially considering her past as both a candidate for demonic pacts and someone who'd long
been close to demons.
She could be called the most skilled demon identifier among the fairies.
"It's demonic."
A firm declaration—not that the relic was a demon, but that it was made by one.
"I agree."
Jaxen concurred.
When Audin was brought to the site, his body naturally radiated white light—holy energy
released reflexively.
"There is a foul presence here."
He didn't describe it further, but clearly, he too found the atmosphere distasteful.
Was it only him?
Of course not.
Everyone felt it.
They were just patient and respectful enough to endure it.
'Considering how often they pull blades on each other, patience really only comes out when it's
needed.'
Enkrid walked around the village perimeter, observing.
Luagarne's assessment had been spot on.
'This is a great location to strike roaming monsters or small-scale Demonic Domains.'
The village, set on nearly flat land, offered a clear view of the surroundings.
Forests behind, the red-tinted Black Mountain peaks visible in the far distance.
Above all, the place was a no-entry zone for monsters.
The buried relic worked like wolf urine or bear droppings—an unmistakable territorial marker.
So their next move was simple, obvious, and straightforward.
"No need for us to move in one big group, right?"
Enkrid asked—not to the air, but to his companions.
Shinar on his left, Luagarne on his right.
Today's companions for this scouting walk.
Rem was off somewhere, excitedly poking around the area for ritual oddities, and Audin and
Teresa had withdrawn for prayer, claiming places like this were where uninterrupted devotion
was most vital.
"Correct."
Luagarne replied.
Over the past few days, they'd gathered information about the surrounding Demonic Domains.
The villagers knew a lot.
More precisely, every place they considered dangerous had either colonies of monsters or
small-scale domains.
Even with divine protection, those who ventured into the wrong areas often vanished—so they'd
naturally accumulated knowledge.
To Enkrid's eyes, this village had reached a state of equilibrium.
Many of the surrounding monsters and beasts lived in a strange balance, avoiding intrusion.
'The monsters migrating from the south.'
Across the continent, it was common to encounter migrating monsters and beasts.
That's why Harrison, the baron who governed the southern farmlands of Naurilia, spent his life
fending off what were, in his view, natural disasters.
Some of those creatures likely originated in places like this.
In any case, their side had a full knight order.
No need to stay grouped.
"Pair Ropord and Ragna. Luagarne, Teresa, and Pel will make another team."
He hadn't planned this arrangement in advance—it was a gut call.
Enkrid had a knack for sensing opponents' intent even on the battlefield.
Over time, that intuition had become reliable even in situations like this.
Though it was a spontaneous division, it was a sound one.
"Good."
Luagarne nodded.
Their next task was similar to before, yet easier.
Even if it wasn't easy, they'd find a way—these were the Madmen Knights.
They set out at dawn, cleared the area before dusk.
"There was a group of Scalers—tough scales, no abilities."
Ropord reported.
They'd already cleared one domain in less than half a day.
Ragna's Sunrise had torn through the wetlands—burning, slashing, destroying.
"I thought Sir Krais would appreciate it if we brought back some of their scales. A shame."
To his remark, Enkrid nodded plainly.
Too bulky to carry back.
Unless they found a way to transport local monster materials, it'd be tough.
If they could process these scales into armor, it would significantly enhance the standard
equipment of the Border Guard's standing forces.
The villagers' clothes suggested it was feasible—they'd somehow turned hide and scales into
remarkably well-crafted garments.
"I saw a curious beast. A snake with small wings, triangular head, and venomous spikes."
Luagarne spoke next.
Teresa had blocked the poison with her shield, then grabbed its neck and ripped it apart.
"She relied on strength rather than technique, but it was impressive."
A sign that Teresa's skills had grown.
Her brute strength was her asset—naturally, her tactics capitalized on it.
Audin had gone with Jaxen to locate a wandering beast.
Luckily, they found one in two days—a giant centipede.
Though it used telekinesis, it was useless against them.
"Was it difficult?"
"Not at all, brother."
Enkrid asked just in case.
Audin shook his head, and Jaxen shrugged.
The village residents were shocked.
After all, the group had literally shredded nearby domains and monsters.
Some disguised themselves as humans, some were ghoul-infested domains—over five of them.
There were even formless demons.
The region's most notorious monster—a Twilight Witch known to lead Plague Maidens—had
long been feared as a potential new demon.
Even the Crimson Cloak Knights had her on their list.
Three people—one massive man and woman, and a sharp-featured man—had gone out and come
back victorious.
Ironically, the Frog now looked like the weakest.
Not that the villagers could tell the difference.
And through it all, Enkrid came to truly grasp the brutality of the southern Demonic Domains.
'A land unfit for humans.'
And yet, humans still lived here.
Thus was born the Eroders' village.
The ferryman of dreams whispered—no, had been whispering for days:
"What will you choose?"
A cruel fantasy, forcing a decision.
Were these people worth protecting?
Or should they be slain?
Or simply abandoned?
Whatever the choice, the knight's oath remained.
An oath must be upheld, or a knight's Will is damaged.
That's a truth both instinct and experience taught.
Valfir Balmung, Imperial Knight of the Empire, had said so often.
"Among the continent's 'flower knights,' many mock their oaths—compromise. Those men
never rise further."
Words from Balmung's lips—but ones the Empire's history had long confirmed.
Failing your oath diminishes your worth as a knight.
It damages your Will.
Thus, Enkrid had to find an answer to the ferryman's question.
The villagers were stunned—but didn't drive the group away.
There was no need.
And so, what they had long feared happened: the demon god's relic had seen them.
And sent a cleaner.
MooooOOOOOOOO!
No fences—not even proper barriers.
At the edge of the fields stood a giant bull.
The sheep scattered, dogs whimpered and hid.
"Minotaurus?"
Jaxen spotted it first.
A musky animal stench mixed with acrid spice in the air.
The beast declared itself with a thunderous roar.
Its meaning was unmistakable:
Fight me.
None could ignore such a challenge.
It was twilight, dim and humid.
The roar tore through the sticky air, casting a long shadow that slashed the earth.
So tall one had to tilt their head just to look it in the eye.
Its bulk, bathed in sunlight, made it appear even larger.
And its sheer aura…
"When the mind's a mess, nothing helps like movement."
Enkrid stepped forward.
He'd handle this—everyone else could just watch.
"Always trying to hog the good stuff."
Rem grumbled, but wouldn't defy him.
Behind the setting sun, two moons quietly rose.
As the others watched, the Minotaurus placed one hand on its waist, craned its neck, and roared
again.
MOOOOOOOOO!
A roar that made knees buckle.
Murderous instinct and wild rage.
Enkrid instinctively summoned the Will of Rejection to deflect the sound and raise his own
pressure.
A wall of pressure formed—solid, like steel.
"Well, would you look at that."
Rem muttered, slightly impressed.
The Minotaurus had two wide-bladed swords strapped to its waist.
The blades were broad like glaives, but with short handles—custom weapons.
Where had it found such arms?
Dual-wielding, the Minotaurus shifted into a stance.
Could a wild beast wield swordsmanship?
Normally no—but this was no normal beast.
Just as some monsters had hardened scales or psychic powers—why not swordsmanship?
Or perhaps it was the Demonic Domain's influence.
A monster… with swordsmanship.
Typically, its brute strength exceeded that of ogres, with danger rivaling medusas.
Now, it wielded swords.
Legs spread, arms held unevenly—its stance was clearly trained.
Enkrid raised his blade, Duskforged.
So what if it had swordsmanship?
All he wondered was—would this bull's final scream also be "Moo"?
Its weapons weren't ordinary either.
They were relics—perhaps cursed weapons.
Facing it, Enkrid drew a deep breath.
Duskforged thrummed, as if eager to cut.
Enkrid was ready to oblige.
Without a sound, he kicked off.
In a blink, the distance closed—Minotaurus's muscles bulged, blades tearing through the air.
Before the crack of sound echoed—man and monster had already exchanged their first blows.
***
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