Encrid wanted Rem to handle things on his own, neatly, cleverly, and with quick thinking. And Rem would do just that.

'He'll figure it out.'

His trust was not groundless. That was the sort of man Rem had always shown himself to be.

Encrid wanted him to kill the leader of the peculiar monsters that bundled silk into arrows and fired them. He also wanted him to thin their numbers while he was at it. He had not spelled it out, but Rem and Dunbachel would know what to do.

Might there be dangerous monsters over there too? There would be. But...

'If I were a monster...'

With Oara here, he would not waste his forces that way. Besides, Encrid intended to draw even more attention here from now on.

Through countless repetitions of today, he had thought, reconsidered, and devised plans. He had learned to change his perspective, stand in the enemy's place, and look at his own side.

'What poses the greatest threat?'

There was no need to ask. Oara.

'What is their objective?'

He already knew that too.

'The knight Oara.'

They were focused on killing a single knight named Oara. Just as she sought to destroy the Demonic Realm by killing its core, they were doing the same. Encrid had read their intentions, surmised their aims, and confirmed them through repeated todays.

"Was he born with an eye for the battlefield?"

Roman had muttered that, but it was not true. Encrid could do it only because he had the experience.

He had spent today that way, over and over. Yet he had never thrown away even one today merely to gather information. That was something that surprised even the ferryman anew.

Encrid simply spent today, each day, every day swinging his sword like a madman, cramming the information coming in from his surroundings into his head. That was how this today had begun.

In short, Rem and Dunbachel would handle their tasks themselves. So Encrid had to do his own.

"Whew."

He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, then pursed his lips and drew in air.

With light steps, he began moving forward. His body felt light. He was in decent condition. No, good condition. Better than usual. What he wanted kindled a fire in his chest and stirred his spirits.

He picked up his pace to an easy run, and Luagarne followed. Oara watched from the wall, while Roman, the short-haired blonde, and Aesia watched from nearby.

He had decided to earn their trust through action. All he needed to do was show them properly.

He saw the head of a spider monster charging at him: dozens of lateral eyes, a mouth that split sideways, legs as hard as forged metal despite not being made of it. Faster than the others, it scuttled up and crossed its two forelegs like scissors.

His Sixth Sense opened, and his concentration made time seem to slow. He could see the monster's blade-like legs, the protrusions standing at regular intervals like saw teeth. He could feel the force carried by those two crossed legs.

If they caught him, they looked capable of shearing his body clean through. Even a graze would shred his flesh. Then he simply had to move before they touched him.

In the gaps of that divided time, he accelerated his thoughts and moved. He swept Aker upward. Tracing a smooth arc, the blade sliced through both of the spider's legs and continued on, splitting its head.

'No need to stop.'

Think, then move. Having cut down one monster, Encrid advanced and began wielding Aker with his right hand alone. His feet stamped, swept, and slid across the ground at a furious pace. Twisting his waist and angling his ankles, he chopped, thrust, cut, and swung.

THUD! CRACK! THUNK! RIP! CRUNCH!

'What do you need against multiple opponents?'

Boldness and judgment. He also needed to judge by instinct rather than thought, and the skill to make every judgment right.

Rem was the best at that. His axes moved on instinct, tracing their paths without hesitation. Encrid copied him.

SHING!

Spark was already in his left hand.

What he copied was not technique, but attitude.

'I'm a barbarian.'

A mad barbarian. A barbarian whose hobby was splitting nobles' heads. A barbarian who picked a fight the moment he saw something he disliked.

The swords in Encrid's hands bent like whips and moved like rays of light. Spark became a beam of light, plunging diagonally downward. It seemed to be stabbing empty air, but it was not. A spider monster thrust its head into that empty space.

SKREEEEE!

A large spider braced itself on its legs and thrust out its rear, only for Spark to pierce its head. Thrust and withdraw. The sword strike moved at a speed beyond the ordinary.

PFF-PFFT!

Dying with a hole in its head, the monster sprayed poison from the opening in its rear. The dark brown liquid flew through the air, then spattered onto the ground. Naturally, it never even touched Encrid and had no effect on him.

While that poison-spewing monster collapsed and died, Aker raced across the battlefield like a swallow. Strike, hit, break, again and again.

Sensing movement behind him, Encrid ducked. A spider's leg whisked over his head, slicing off a few hairs that drifted through the air. He twisted at the waist and kicked backward.

THUD!

His heel crushed the spider's head.

As he extended his foot behind him, he spotted an ant crawling up along the ground, about to use its two forelegs like sickles to hack into his left instep. He drew his extended foot back and kicked forward and up. Just before those sickle-shaped limbs struck his left instep, his iron-plated boot kicked the spider.

WHUMP!

It was a relatively small monster. The snapping force of his kick burst its body, coating the top of his boot in black fluid.

Big ones, small ones, middling ones. Ones that spat poison, ones that spat silk, ones that used their legs as blades, ones that charged blindly, ones that tunneled up from below, ones that crept up from behind. So many. There were more than enough things to kill.

Encrid saw one step into the future and swung his sword accordingly. Aker swept down from above while he sheathed Spark, drew his gladius, and drove it into the ground. After performing the two motions simultaneously, he leaped sideways.

CRACK!

A whip tipped with an iron weight filled the gap. Luagarne was helping him.

His sideways leap took him into the heart of the monster horde. Several spider demonic beasts thrust their limbs at him. He tilted his head to dodge, then held his sword upright and struck a spider demonic beast's forelimb with the flat, deflecting it.

It was possible only because of the overwhelming gap in skill. Of course, even so, it was half-mad. Then again, succeeding at something mad could turn it into something remarkable. After all, only a hair's breadth separated a madman from a hero. That was what Encrid was doing now.

He had dodged and blocked his way into position. He stood in the heart of the horde. Having forced his way among the monsters, he gripped Aker with both hands and swung wide. It was a cut loaded with centrifugal force, drawing on the principles of the Heavy Sword Technique. Like a typhoon, it tore and shattered the monsters.

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!

Everything his blade touched was sliced and severed. With a single strike, he had opened a hole in the middle of the horde. For an instant, the sweep of his sword left an empty space around him.

He steadied his breathing and flicked his blade through the air. Black fluid spattered onto the ground.

He had learned the monsters' patterns through repeated todays. With intuition and instinct, he drew his own picture over the patterns he had memorized. Having grasped and predicted the monsters' habits, he painted on the canvas of the battlefield with their black blood.

Normally, knowing all the monsters' habits would have been impossible. Not now. There had been countless todays: todays when Oara died, todays when he died, todays with a hole in Rem's belly, todays when Aesia was beheaded, todays when Luagarne died with her heart pierced, todays when Roman died without being able to do a thing.

Those todays, those experiences, had accumulated and condensed within one man. And so, at least on this particular stage, Encrid was the most experienced hunter of all.

'Not bad.'

The more he moved, the looser his body felt. He was not tiring, even though he had used the Will of the Instant, Giant's Strike, and the Will of Scission here and there.

He did not stop. For a moment, he forgot Rem, forgot Oara, and ran. He swung his swords and moved his feet, fighting without rest. This was the moment to prove himself through that alone. And there were people watching.

* * *

Waiting at the gate, Milio could not tell what was happening out front. Just as he was about to order it opened, he heard someone shout to close it. He had no reason to obey, yet he nearly moved to follow the order without thinking before catching himself.

"Close it."

Oara's order came at just that moment. Milio thought he might have obeyed the shout from out front even without the knight's command.

"We're going up on the wall. Everyone, get your bows."

He spoke to the soldiers under his command and set off.

'Admorr, you bastard. You'd better not be dead already.'

Encrid had intervened, but letting Admorr out had ultimately been his decision. A quiet worry settled into a corner of his mind.

Of course, this was no time for that. Monsters were pouring in as never before. Even among waves, this was a large-scale one. With everyone, including Oara, taking the field, he could not let worry over a single comrade jeopardize his duty.

He resumed walking. He knew there was no need to push himself, but he could not help his quickening steps.

'Why aren't they shooting?'

In Thousand Brick, it was common sense to thin the monsters' numbers with arrows before they could close in. Yet no arrows were flying. Still.

With his steps growing faster of their own accord, Milio reached the top of the wall. He took his bow and nocked an arrow. Now he only had to wait for the order to loose.

Oara was there, but someone else was in command. When the knight order fought, a separate commander directed the archers from the rear. That was how Thousand Brick had survived.

Milio saw that the man who should have been commanding them was speechless. So was the soldier beside him who should have been signaling with a flag. No, even Oara was the same.

"That crazy bastard."

Her lips curled upward as she spoke.

Oara always smiled. But her smile was a little different when she was truly excited. It was a subtle distinction only Milio knew, a special knack he had acquired through long observation of the woman he loved: reading Oara's smiles.

To his eyes, she looked genuinely thrilled now. Naturally, his gaze turned toward the battlefield.

Once, someone had witnessed a member of the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order fighting as they rose from squire to proto knight. It had been on a battlefield between Naurilia and Aspen, in the middle of Green Pearl beyond Border Guard.

Imbuing their legs with determination, the Knight had kicked off the ground and charged. The sword strokes that followed were like butterflies, the movements like lightning. One combatant had torn through the battlefield. Such a thing was possible when a proto knight entered the ranks of ordinary soldiers. It was martial might that could overturn a battlefield.

Milio had not witnessed that battle. He could see only what was before his own eyes. But he was seeing something similar now.

Outside the gate. That was where the reason for Oara's smile stood.

In the middle of the monster horde, his only ally nearby was the lone Frog following him. And the Frog's fighting hardly drew the eye at all.

Standing somewhere Milio would have died without lasting even a few exchanges, the man swung his swords. Cut. Thrust. Severed and shattered.

One moment he was wreaking havoc to Oara's right; when a crash drew their eyes left, he was already there. Black earth shot up from where he pushed off. Before that spray of dirt could fall, four monsters had holes in their heads.

What sort of human could do that? The flame of a nearby mounted torch shook wildly, illuminating his work.

Few soldiers would have seen the knight order fight as closely as Milio had. That was why he knew squires and proto knights were not invincible. They too grew tired and weary without sleep. Without food, they could not exert their full strength.

His palms grew sweaty. His heart pounded. An inexplicable exhilaration surged through him. He did not know what that man was fighting for. But if someone asked who stood at the very forefront of this battlefield, he would answer without hesitation.

THUMP!

"Oa."

A soldier stamped his foot and uttered the cry.

"Oa!"

Another soldier echoed it. Several voices joined in at once.

The cry spread. A cheer for one man. Everyone in the city, everyone defending the wall, watched with one heart. Even Oara.

"Encrid!"

They called out a single man's name. It was strange.

Was the prowess Encrid displayed now so different from what the knight order had shown them before? No. Yet there was something about the way he fought that set their hearts ablaze.

Milio's heart pounded. His chest burned. His mind seemed to go utterly blank. Exhilaration raced through his whole body, and he believed he could beat anything to death, monster or otherwise.

Though the Twin Red Moons hung overhead, no one looked up. Nor did anyone speak of danger. They simply watched the man single-handedly slaughtering the horde that had been about to threaten them.