From that day onward, the journey west was peaceful. The plains were so vast that looking across them could be disheartening, but it was a thoroughly pleasant journey.

“High sky today. On days like this, it's nice to watch the sky as you walk.”

Rem was an excellent guide. He knew his way around despite how long he must have been away from the West.

“Hasn't anything changed?” Encrid asked.

“Nothing would. That's the sort of land this is.”

That was the answer he received.

They walked along watching the drifting clouds. Again and again, the clouds scattered, gathered, then scattered and vanished. A high sky meant a day when the sky seemed especially distant. In other words, a sky with scarcely any clouds. Today was one of those days.

After drinking from the ground-squirrel fruit, Encrid detected a strange presence. It was near dawn. He was standing sentry when he felt an unfamiliar gaze upon him. Faint and slender, but unmistakable. No, it was a gaze so well concealed that he would never have noticed it without his Sixth Sense.

He sought out its source. A small shadow flitted over the uneven ground and vanished. After that, he could sense nothing.

When he mentioned what he had seen that morning, Rem smiled and nodded.

“About time those purse snoopers showed up.”

“Purse snoopers? Didn't you say that meant thieves?”

Encrid spoke as he wiped Aker's blade and gathered the weapons and bow he had received as gifts.

Breakfast that morning was dried rations. Well, proper cooking was difficult on a long journey, so they had filled their stomachs with nothing but jerky, salted meat, and dried fruit for days. Rem had said they would only have to put up with that for a few days, but meanwhile, Encrid had sensed that peculiar gaze on what was supposedly a quiet journey.

“How angry do you think the owner who ripened that fruit would be if we drank it all?”

“It belonged to someone?”

Naturally, he had assumed it grew in the ground.

“Of course it did. Look over there.”

Rem raised a hand toward one of the dry-branched trees they occasionally saw on the desolate plains. Encrid had seen them several times: thornlike branches with long leaves hanging from them. The leaves themselves looked almost like hard wood.

“That's ground-squirrel fruit.”

“What is?”

Nothing looked like fruit.

“That.”

Following Rem's finger, Encrid saw that he was pointing at the long leaves.

“That is?”

“Really?”

Dunbachel came over to ask, apparently intrigued as well. Her eyes bore vivid blue bruises, since Rem invariably called her over to spar after his bouts with Encrid. Even after all those beatings, she still spoke her mind, with no trace of sullenness.

“Really.”

The same went for Rem, who had administered the beatings. Neither resented the other, nor did they share any particular emotional connection. They simply hit, got hit, trained, and toughened themselves up.

They were a curious pair to watch. One might think affection would develop after so much time together, but Rem never wavered. It was as though women did not exist for him.

“Ground squirrels carry that fruit off and bury it. Then it absorbs the earth's essence and grows. Only ground squirrels can find land with that essence—or, more precisely, land where the fruit will grow.”

The West certainly had plenty of rare and curious things. Encrid now knew the faint gazes he sensed belonged to ground squirrels. Everything else he saw and heard offered something to learn, too. And as he learned, his curiosity raised its head. It was his third reason for coming to this land.

“How do other westerners fight?”

Being absorbed in one thing, whether sitting or standing, walking or resting, was a strength. Conversely, charging ahead with only that one thing in mind was also a weakness. Rem looked at the sword-obsessed lunatic and answered.

“Some fight like me.”

“And?”

“Some fight differently.”

“That's all?”

“Want to know beforehand?”

Encrid shook his head without much thought.

“No. Don't tell me.”

In the past, when his skills were abysmal, he had needed every scrap of information about the situation and his enemies before going in. Otherwise, he would die. But now he could afford to do things his own way a little. So surely he could allow himself this.

'I'll enjoy it when I meet them.'

Facing them without knowing would be more fun. He wasn't marching to his death. Rem grinned. He had known this would happen. Encrid smiled too, understanding what Rem had intended.

They extended their fists and bumped them together. The flower of friendship seemed ready to bud.

“You'll have fun meeting them. Though they might piss you off. Maybe not you, Captain? That stupid Beastman will probably fall for it, and they might not bother the Frog in the first place.”

Rem guided them from memory. They needed to leave the plains, keep a small ridge to their left, and walk a little north of the setting sun. That would bring them to a small settlement.

Monsters occasionally appeared and caused trouble, but everyone who lived there was a warrior. From the continent's perspective, perhaps they could be called rangers living on the borderlands. In the West, of course, it was simply called a warriors' settlement. A settlement of people who all knew how to fight, and fought well.

Soon Rem would start seeing familiar faces.

'Whew.'

He quietly steadied his breathing. He was a little nervous. Among the people he would meet again along this route, one would resent him quite a bit, and with good reason.

'What should I say?'

Long time no see? Had he known it would come to this, he would have picked up a few glittering jewels. If Krais were here, wouldn't he have found some way to keep Rem from going empty-handed?

He was mulling over such stray thoughts when an arm lightly stopped him.

Encrid had raised his arm across Rem's path. Rem glanced at the arm resting against his stomach, then looked up. The settlement he knew was still a little farther on, but ahead stood members of a race whose faces he had to crane his neck to see. Three of them, at that.

They emerged from their clumsy hiding places behind a low hill.

“Did someone send us lunch?”

“No, idiot. We're the farthest out. Who'd send it?”

“Then what are those?”

The three spoke as they looked at the party. Their voices were deep and loud as thunder. Up close, the sound was enough to make one's eardrums scream in distress. Wiry beards, steely fingers, and thick torsos came into view.

Giants.

The three Giants broke off their conversation and blinked. All three carried thick, dark-brown wooden clubs studded with sharp spikes.

“Are Giants a common sight in the West as well?” Luagarne asked.

To her eyes—or more precisely, her talent-reading eyes—the three were formidable opponents.

While the party briefly hesitated, the three Giants sized them up and reached a conclusion.

“Who knows?”

“They're snacks, that's what.”

“Let's eat.”

The three Giants turned. Encrid had encountered Giants before, but never any like these. Do what? Eat? Eat what? Us? Did they prey on humans?

“Frogs taste awful, so piss off!” shouted the Giant in the middle.

The harsh shout raced across the desolate field. Encrid felt its intimidation. The Will of refusal activated naturally within him.

“Grrr!”

Dunbachel's pupils stretched into vertical slits.

Rem spun his axe over his hand and caught it, even in the midst of this absurd situation.

CRACK!

Luagarne drew her whip and lashed the ground. A thin cloud of dust rose with the sound of its impact.

The three Giants strode toward them.

“Frogs are tough.”

“Chew it, then spit it out.”

“The Beastman's mine!”

Man-eaters? No, they didn't only eat humans, so perhaps omnivorous Giants was more accurate. The three closed the distance. At a glance, they seemed slow, but that was an illusion caused by their enormous size. They were not slow at all.

Worse, one of the three suddenly accelerated as he approached. With that burst of speed, he thrust his club straight out. It was an entirely unexpected move. He had looked ready to smash it down mindlessly, only to thrust instead? And after coming at them in such a bumbling rush, he suddenly unleashed a strike like this?

Surprised or not, Encrid reacted immediately. His Sixth Sense, integrated into his sensory arts, opened the way. The blade of focus born of Concentrate on a Single Point revealed itself in vivid blue. All that remained was to use his physical strength to bring the image in his mind to life.

BOOM!

Aker flashed free and struck the Giant's club with an explosive report. Blade and club met, then parted, both weapons knocked back. Aker's keen edge sliced away part of the dark-brown club, sending a chunk flying sideways.

The Giant faltered and stopped. As he did, the other two spread out to either side and stopped as well. The three had effectively surrounded the party.

Encrid looked down at his feet, his sword still raised from the upward strike. That was a Giant's strength for you. His feet had been driven backward despite his having unleashed the Heart of the Superhuman.

Off to one side, Rem tilted his head, axe in hand.

“What the hell are you?”

Why were Giants—man-eating Giants, no less—showing up here? Rem genuinely wanted to know.

“Rawr. Scared, little boy?”

The Giant spoke as though trying to frighten him, in a tone meant to fool a small child.

Rem had never been treated that way before. He looked up and considered. Surely they could still get answers if only one of the three survived? Judging from that attack, they weren't stupid. They knew how to exploit their appearance. In short, they knew how to use their heads. And if they could do that, they would understand fear well enough.

“Keep one alive and play with it.”

Rem let his axes hang at his sides. He tucked his chin and lowered his head slightly, a ghostly fire burning in his upturned eyes.

There should have been people guarding this area. They were nowhere to be seen, and omnivorous Giants had taken their place. What did that mean? Something had happened here. And that grated on Rem.

He pressed his feet into the ground. The Heart of the Superhuman stirred, sending power into his thigh muscles. He bent his knees and braced his ankles.

RUMBLE.

The ground shook.

“What?”

The Giant was still playing dumb to lure Rem in. Rem decided to take the bait.

BOOM!

He kicked off the ground and surged forward. There were things he simply could not use while sparring with Encrid. Driving the Heart of the Superhuman to its limits, for example. Not that doing so guaranteed he could beat Encrid, of course. His Captain would have held things back, just as he had.

WHOOSH!

Timed precisely to his charge, the club descended directly over Rem's head. He had launched himself forward off his left foot. Now, already accelerating, he kicked off again with his right. It was a weaker step than the first, but one that doubled his speed. A little trick called the double leap.

BANG!

The second step was less explosive than the first, but perfect for adding speed. Rem slipped past the club, and his axe slashed across the Giant's body.

SHHK!

“GRAAAARGH!”

The Giant howled like an animal. Blood sprayed everywhere. Giants were known as red-blooded demonic beasts, but these ones' blood was different. It was deep maroon, almost purple.

Amid the spray of blood, the Giant howled and lifted a foot, sweeping it across the space Rem had occupied. The very fact that he used a broad sweep rather than a reckless kick showed that he knew how to fight. Rem slammed an axe into the sweeping leg and used the rebound to fling himself sideways. Naturally, it was a deliberate maneuver.

Another Giant lay in his path. He feinted a swing of his club, then reached out a hand. Rem kicked that away too and dodged aside.

As Encrid watched, one of the Giants had already strode up behind him.

“You little bastard!”

The Giant swung the club in his right hand to cut off Encrid's escape while reaching to seize his shoulder and pin him down with his left. His shout of “You little bastard!” was so loud it actually hurt Encrid's ears. Even that could make a person freeze for a moment, but it didn't work on everyone.

Already aware of his approach, Encrid turned, thrusting Spark and swinging Aker upward. Aker struck the club, while Spark left a small wound in the Giant's palm. By snatching his outstretched left hand back, the Giant escaped with a scratch rather than a hole through it.

Blood spurted. Spark had drawn the same deep maroon blood from his hand. No one could call it red.

“Where did a bastard like you come from? I won't forgive you! You!”

The Giant erupted in anger. Encrid stared into his eyes. For all his rage, those eyes were remarkably cold. They were like Krais's eyes as he counted a pile of Krona coins before him.

They were calculating eyes.