Chapter 756 - A Madman of a Different Caliber
The Minotaur's physical bulk, combined with its immense pressure, felt utterly monstrous.
Most of the inhabitants of the demonic domain dropped to their knees, muttering "Black Sun, Black Sun," invoking the epithet of their demon god.
And yet, strangely, the human—barely half the size of the beast with a bull's head—looked just as massive in their eyes.
Perhaps even larger?
To the eye, he seemed a moment away from being crushed, disemboweled, his insides spraying out as he was flung aside.
But that never happened.
CLANG!
A metallic shriek echoed out.
The scream of clashing steel burst into a shockwave.
After exchanging that first blow, Enkrid immediately understood.
'That's a knight's level.'
Why couldn't they wipe out the demonic domain?
The answer was painfully clear: they lacked the strength.
Even if humans awakened to Will and fought, the horrors lurking inside were simply too much.
This two-bladed Minotaur was one of those monsters.
After the clash, the beast and man distanced again.
The bipedal bull stepped back, dragging its right hoof.
Enkrid raised his sword diagonally, shielding his face—brief tension filled the air.
Everyone knew the fight would resume in seconds.
Sunlight leaked over violet-drenched ground.
As the sun dipped behind the ridges, darkness crept in.
It felt like standing in a swamp all day: damp warmth clung to the air.
It was summer, and this place bordered what people called the demonic domain—its humidity and discomfort made sense.
"…Are we really not going to help?"
Roman asked from the rear.
Just seeing the creature made his skin crawl, goosebumps prickling all over.
It felt more threatening than the monsters in the Gray Forest back in Oara, even more so than that ghoul, Jericks.
That one roar had nearly stripped away his bodily control.
Had he been the one facing it, he would've died on the spot.
'That's a monster.'
They should help.
Leaving Enkrid alone wasn't right.
That thought led to his question—
"Don't. You'd just get in the way,"
Rem said without even glancing back, eyes locked on the two combatants.
Everyone else was the same.
The Holy Knight.
The vicious swordsman.
The nearly undetectable presence.
The fairie and the rest—all simply watched.
Roman realized they weren't watching out of fear or concern.
Not one of them looked worried.
'Why?'
The Frog beside him puffed up her cheeks, full of anticipation and glee.
Roman couldn't read her expression.
He had no fairy companions or friends—fairies didn't usually follow others or travel in groups.
They were rare in a place like Oara.
Roman had heard fairies rarely displayed emotions, yet this one clearly showed excitement.
Same with Pel and Ropord.
They didn't sweat, but clenched and unclenched their fists, shifting their stances—like they were mentally inserting themselves into the fight.
No one doubted the outcome.
It was written in their posture: If anything goes wrong, we'll jump in immediately.
But what lay beneath that readiness wasn't anxiety.
It was anticipation.
They were waiting for the man before them to show them something.
And that mood naturally seeped into Roman as well.
'Just what is he going to do?'
It was already stunning that he'd become a knight, but to command this much faith?
'Is this something to learn, too?'
The knight Oara had always shown him her back.
Even near death, she never strayed from the values she upheld.
She never broke her vow.
She smiled as she left.
Roman remembered her final battle against the Beelrog's fragment.
Now, before his eyes, Enkrid overlapped with that image.
"Oara…" he whispered.
Enkrid's Duskforged and the Minotaur's blade clashed again.
BOOM!
The ground roared. It sounded like a rockslide tearing through the valley.
Dust burst from the ground as violet soil scattered.
Roman saw Enkrid's sword waver.
That motion brought out a pulse, drawing Will from within and into the blade.
In the center of the demonic domain, where moonlight failed to reach, light refracted from his blade—
It exploded, painted streaks across the darkness like an artist's brush.
Even without seeing every stroke, Roman was overwhelmed.
'You could die at any moment.'
Seeing the Minotaur wield its blades reinforced that old truth.
It's what he'd been told since before becoming a knight:
If you take up the sword to live, don't forget you might die to a blind strike.
Hrm-RAAGH!
The bull roared again.
Even that cry was an attack.
Its savage killing intent took form, trying to crush his body.
Enkrid pushed back with boiling Will, ignoring the pressure.
The Minotaur twisted its waist and lashed out again.
It was a heavy, rapid slash—just like what Ragna would show during a charge.
He blocked it with Duskforged.
Using the technique he called Wave-breaker, he twisted his body and rode the momentum, his body sliding to the side.
Tddddd.
Wavebreaker paired perfectly with the Sword of Coincidence.
In truth, most sword techniques harmonized in some way.
Enkrid had already concluded as much.
It was a thought he'd confirmed before.
The bull's second sword came a moment later—reinforced with Will, it was so fast that even knight-level reflexes could barely track it.
It passed through the space where Enkrid had just stood.
Had he not dodged the first blow, the second might've been lethal.
The slash left a visible afterimage—like ink spreading through water.
The clean lines blurred and warped.
Enkrid became one of those blurred lines.
And his mind split.
Focus.
Don't loosen up.
Stay aware.
Don't stiffen.
Let yourself win.
Rigid thoughts mean rigid moves.
Fluid thoughts breed fluid motion.
Repeat.
Over and over.
Until it's in your bones.
Today's training builds tomorrow's self.
Everything he'd ever learned whirled in his mind.
And he knew—right now, he could do it.
Oara had shown him before.
Ragna had done it too.
And once before, he had reached it himself.
Light touched his blade.
Will took form.
As the bull's blade struck, Enkrid twisted and unleashed a vortex slash—
A spiral of light surged forth, cleaving the Minotaur's head.
He dragged Duskforged down violently—
Crackkk.
The monster's thick neck bones snapped, skin and muscle tearing open.
Thud.
The beast's knee hit the ground first.
Enkrid stepped back and flicked the blood from his blade.
Black ichor splattered across the ground.
The monster swayed like a pendulum, then toppled.
Thud—
Its fall was as thunderous as its presence.
Dark blood poured from its torn head and broken spine.
Enkrid stared at the corpse, mind already elsewhere.
'If I refine the applications of Will, I could teach them. And others could learn.'
His thoughts settled into a conclusion.
'The start is bringing unconscious Will back into awareness.'
The goal was to give Will form—manifest it outside the body, through weapon or aura.
Just like he had now.
'Of course, mastering Will alone isn't enough.'
Without basic swordsmanship and dedicated training, that path is unreachable.
Proper technique and body training are vital.
'Without all that, the idea of manifesting Will is just a dream.'
He was slow to learn—he tested every path, confirmed every step.
That so-called lack of talent gave him one gift:
Careful observation, and deep insight.
This was neither a long nor a short battle.
Luagarne was so thrilled she spread her four fingers wide and pressed them against her armor.
The frog's heart thrashed wildly.
Grgrgrr.
Her puffed-up cheeks radiated her awe.
Fel unconsciously half-drew the Idol Slayer.
I want to fight him.
If someone asked why, he'd reply—why not?
Reasons didn't matter.
He simply wanted to clash blades with what Enkrid had just shown.
"Hold it. Your turn is a long way off."
Fel sensed the barbarian standing behind him.
How to describe it?
Wild.
Ferocious.
Like sticking your head in a lion's mouth.
That was the pressure.
"Our Lord…"
Audin muttered a prayer.
A faint form shimmered behind him—divine power taking shape.
He wasn't the only one stirred.
Ragna, holding Sunrise, asked,
"You can wield it however we want now?"
A confirmation, not a question—he was asking about Will manifestation.
"Yes," Enkrid replied, casually wiping Duskforged.
Shinar approached.
"You're incomparable to when I first saw you."
Her voice held awe.
"Not yet," Ropord murmured.
If Fel burned with desire, Ropord realized just how far he still had to go.
But he wouldn't despair.
Most here knew the road Enkrid had walked—starting from the lowest soldier grade in Naurilia's system.
His path was full of thorns.
After that exertion, sweat cooled his body.
He looked around, seeing the corrupted villagers staring wide-eyed.
The ferryman asked:
Is protecting them the right thing?
Or should they all be cut down?
'People slowly corrupted under a demon's influence.'
But none of that had happened yet.
Maybe their violet skin would return if the influence were purged.
Anne would love this, he thought.
She dreamed of an elixir that could cure all illness—her eyes always burned at the sight of new diseases.
Standing beside her, it was clear: Anne, too, deserved the title of "madman."
Enkrid didn't expect repentance from these people.
They were bound by the choices of their ancestors. It wasn't their fault.
Many thoughts crossed his mind, but one stood out.
Can they be saved?
That was the only question he sought to answer.
Even if he failed, he wouldn't despair.
He would try, however mad it seemed.
At a crossroads of two brutal options, Enkrid chose a third.
He strode toward the village center—toward the symbol of the Black Sun.
All eyes followed.
He had slain the demon's cleaner.
No one dared speak.
No one stepped forward.
They could only watch.
Enkrid looked at the idol with indifference.
If a god changes your mind and body…
Then just change the god.
With a swipe, Duskforged cleaved the idol.
The wooden disc fell to the ground.
"Ahh!"
A few villagers screamed, but it was too late.
Enkrid had severed the demon's symbol.
"Audin. Let's destroy the buried relic."
"…As you command."
They would burn the demon's relic with divine fire.
The village was now exposed.
The villagers, stunned, stared at him.
"What are you going to do?"
Fel asked casually.
Was he planning to let monsters do the killing now?
The Shepherds of the Wilderness hated monsters.
If he used them as tools, Fel would leave—maybe even now.
But Enkrid said the most unexpected thing:
"From now on, this land is ours. I declare it a Border Guard fief."
He was replacing the protector.
If worshiping a demon was the problem—then he would become the symbol of the land.
It was an impossible idea for any ordinary man.
Rem tilted his head.
He'd seen plenty of Enkrid's insane acts—but this one was on a different level.
Wait, what did he just say?
A Border Guard fief?
Here?
This place was basically part of a demonic domain!
"So instead of the demon, they're worshipping the captain now?"
Rem muttered.
Enkrid blinked.
Was that really how he interpreted it?
"Well, not exactly…"
He was about to explain, but Audin spoke first, his voice wrapping around them.
"By the Lord's blessing."
He honored his leader's will with a serene smile.
"In place of the Lord, he will stand as center."
No, that's not what I meant, Enkrid thought—but the words never came.
The villagers panicked.
Hundreds of eyes stared.
Ragna didn't care.
He had no interest in their survival.
What mattered was what Enkrid had just shown.
The village's representative trembled, appalled at the severed idol.
But the deed was done.
The minotaur was slain.
Joraslav knelt and bowed his head.
For survival.
If Krais had seen this, he would've demanded an explanation.
If Crang had been here, he'd probably click his tongue.
If Enkrid wanted a throne, he might as well take his.
Regardless, Enkrid fully ignored the ferryman's intent and declared himself ruler.
The mission hadn't changed:
If protecting them caused the problem—then remove the problem.
"My fiancé truly is a madman of a different caliber,"
Shinar said, echoing everyone's thoughts.
***
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