Clothes stained with purple blood, a dagger in hand, the breeze still cool beneath a high sky full of billowing clouds. Amid it all lay three incongruous Giant corpses.

It would be dangerous. His intuition warned him so. And that was precisely why he could not turn back.

"All right. Let's go," Encrid said.

It sounded like a non sequitur, but his intention was clear. He was going along.

"If you're going, so am I," Luagarne said.

"Fine, then. I'll come along too," Dunbachel said, as though doing him a favor.

Rem looked at Encrid. Would that man leave just because he was told to? He was not that sort of man. When it came to stubbornness, he had no equal on the continent. Could Rem break that stubborn streak? Not a chance.

He reached his conclusion in a moment and answered, "Fine. Let's go."

They set off again. After their encounter with the three Giants, Rem found the remains of the settlement.

"Fuck. What the hell is going on?" he said.

Torn tents, pots with holes in them lying about, and broad stone slabs came into view. There were almost no bloodstains, and scarcely any smell of blood.

The former settlement stood on relatively high ground. In its center were the remains of a large bonfire. The dwellings had been burned.

Half-burned tents, scraps of hide, and dry wood lay heaped nearby, with a large cauldron in their midst. Beside it lay several bones that could only have been human.

Rem's face was grimmer than ever. He scooped up a handful of earth, sniffed it, and surveyed the area.

"No particular signs of anything."

No smashed palisade, no broken bows or spear shafts. The signs were too faint to suggest a fight. That was Rem's judgment. Too many things troubled him, but he could reach no firm conclusions here.

Looking at the broken remains of the wooden palisade, its wood rich with a special sap, Rem said, "People I know used to be here. No, they should have been here."

"But they're not here now," Encrid said, studying the ground as well.

It was hard to find traces of anything besides the three Giants. Then who was the prophet those Giants had mentioned?

"Right. And those three Giants. Something's strange. Their blood was strange, and it's strange how few monsters there are around here." Rem spoke almost to himself, his axes set aside and his arms folded.

Being the West did not mean it had no monsters. There were plenty of unusual ones here that were rarely seen on the continent. Sandworms, white shaggy creatures that imitated human voices, ratmen. Rem had said such things were common.

On the other hand, lizardmen and crocodiles were rarely seen, perhaps because of the dry climate.

They had also spotted a few wild Velopters. They had short snouts, bodies covered in scales rather than fur, short forelegs, and long hind legs. Encrid had seen them run. They were as fast as most horses.

He did wonder whether they could actually be tamed. Since some people in the West supposedly rode them, there must have been a trick to it.

"Let's go." Rem brushed off his hands.

Giants had attacked the settlement. That was possible, but the people here were not the sort to fall easily. Which meant there was something happening that he knew nothing about.

Rem set off, and the group followed. One settlement stood empty, but the route he knew had not changed. The way was the same.

Encrid looked up as he walked. For a moment, the clouds seemed to speed up. He had heard that when rain fell here, it came in a mad downpour, but that it hardly ever rained otherwise.

It was hard to imagine rain in air like this. A scratchy breeze, perhaps? In Encrid's experience, this was a day without the slightest scent of rain.

"Too dry," Luagarne said as she followed.

The conditions were actually just right, but they could be uncomfortable for her. She kept drinking water.

"You can drink it all. We'll be there tonight." Luagarne nodded at Rem's words.

Occasionally, a yellow dust-laden wind swept over them, only to give way to a cool breeze without a speck of dust. As they continued onward, Rem spoke.

"People here don't much like change."

He spoke while surveying their surroundings. Encrid thought he might be looking for more Giant tracks, but he was merely finding the way. He used ridges, rocks, and large trees as landmarks. Things that seldom changed. Things that stayed where they were even through a storm.

The landscape was majestic and vast. Anyone living here would be no more than a tiny speck.

Occasional patches of grass clung to the ochre earth, and stretches of gray stone lay in view. There were also masses of sandstone formed from compressed grains, clearly weathered and gouged by the years. Those would make poor landmarks.

Taking in the scenery, Encrid asked, "What do you mean?"

"There are wars, and we fight among ourselves, but when it comes down to it, we reject any major change. We wander this land, fight, struggle, and die. That's all. They want to live believing everything is fate."

When Rem spoke of something he truly hated, he tended to grow calmer instead. Whether he knew it himself or not, Encrid had noticed.

For instance, it was fine when he raised his voice in anger at Jaxon or Ragna. That meant he was only moderately angry. But when he spoke quietly and gripped an axe, that was a danger sign. Encrid had seen it often lately, thanks to the beatings Ragna gave him.

"I don't see what's so fun about that," Rem said.

Encrid answered immediately, without a moment's thought. The meaning was serious, but his manner and tone were light. That was fine.

He pressed onward because he had something he believed in. Had he lived worrying about what others thought, he would never have lived this way. His answering question summed up his life. A light delivery did not make the words themselves trivial, so he spoke lightly.

"Who gives a damn?"

Rem stopped dead.

"True enough," he murmured to himself, then moved on.

If a certain way of life was called the right one, if everyone said it was right, did that mean you had to live that way? Was that the right way to live? Was there even a right answer to life?

No. If there was something you wanted, couldn't you simply go out and seize it? That was the sort of man Encrid was. Rem was not so different.

That was why he had run away from the West. To live a life of seizing what he wanted. For enjoyment. To move forward. Because he did not want to stop and stagnate, becoming a lump of sandstone worn down by the western wind.

He had shirked his responsibilities and duties in the past. He admitted that. And it was because he admitted it that he could return. That was what had set Rem on his present course.

Heart. Feeling. Determination. He had sometimes experienced something like an epiphany while learning spells. This felt similar. He recalled a mindset he had forgotten, one he had arrived at some time after leaving the West.

"Let's keep walking tonight. Anyone who's tired... Put that hand down, Dunbachel, before I break it."

"No, I just raised it. My armpit was itchy."

Dunbachel was indifferent to damp and dry alike. She was a remarkably insensitive Beastman. All she ever said was that wide-open land made her uncomfortable. Perhaps that was because it resembled the broad plains where Beastmen lived.

"Try washing once in a while," Rem told her.

"You'll find few Beastmen who wash as often as I do," Dunbachel answered confidently.

Naturally, Encrid did not believe her. Neither did Rem or Luagarne, of course.

"Anyone who's tired can get a piggyback ride."

Rem spoke offhandedly and strode onward. They left the barren-looking plain, followed a dirt path, and crossed a stretch of short grass, continuing with a ridge on their left.

The ridge was covered in rocks pocked with holes. Perhaps this had once been a volcanic region. Faint heat rose from the ground, and the basalt formations looked as though they had pressed the surrounding land down.

'From a distance, it would look as though a lava Giant had stamped its foot here.'

Through acquired training in the sensory arts, Encrid had developed his cross-sensory perception. Looking at the rocks and the sunken basin, he could infer the shape of the whole.

The party walked through the night. A few monsters sprang out along the way. They were ratmen. Dunbachel hacked apart the rat-headed monsters, which brandished long claws, with her curved blades.

"My turn!"

She knew perfectly well that getting monster blood on herself meant she would have to wash, so she darted sideways immediately after each cut. It was a textbook hit-and-run approach. She dispatched the monsters with barely a few drops of blood splashing onto her.

Dunbachel had improved considerably as well. That was how it looked to Encrid. Then how would she have fared against the Giant from earlier? He himself had found it manageable, but...

'Dunbachel would win. The odds are much more in her favor.'

Of course, odds of victory were a laughable thing in an actual fight. Diligent training improved your chances of survival, but it guaranteed nothing.

'Am I overestimating her abilities?'

Should he push her to the limit to give her the desire to improve? Dunbachel did not seem to have much on her mind. Though something did seem to have changed after she had been showered with praise on the previous battlefield.

'That's for her to work out.'

It was not Encrid's concern. She would carve out her own path and move forward.

"Leave them. Eagles or hyenas will take care of them." Rem surveyed the dead demonic beasts and resumed walking.

As they continued, Encrid looked to the side and saw a mass of blade-like rocks. Hard, pointed stone. Naturally treacherous terrain.

He surveyed the area. Patches of pasture lay scattered to the right, covered in short grass. A few sheep grazed there at their leisure.

'Sheep?'

Sheep, here? There were cattle too. And a few people among them.

They had walked all night, and dawn was breaking. Sunlight and clouds mingled with the West's light, dry air, illuminating the land.

Sunshine reached out to embrace the gray and ochre landscape. It was peaceful. There was hardly ever any mist, so nothing obscured the view.

The sunlight added color to their surroundings. Beyond gray and ochre came pale brown, dark brown, and grass of light green. Green joined the prevailing gray and ochre, yet it all blended harmoniously.

Four people stood together among the sheep and cattle, and one stepped forward. Wariness would have been understandable, but after a glance at the party, the figure strode toward them without hesitation.

"When I read the clouds, they said nothing about an enemy coming."

The newcomer was tall and broad-shouldered, with an imposing frame, but a comparatively thin voice. Shaggy armor covered the figure's entire body. It did not look like fur clothing meant to retain heat; the fur itself seemed to serve as armor.

Light brown hair had been braided back and left hanging long. Curiously, the footsteps were almost silent, as though something had been placed beneath the soles of the boots. Encrid could tell that just by looking.

A hunter? At the very least, the outfit suggested someone who enjoyed hunting regularly. That was how it looked.

The newcomer's eyes passed over everyone but Rem, one at a time. Assessing them? Keeping watch? Somewhere in between, perhaps. Beneath that, Encrid sensed something quiet and subdued.

'Flowing lava.'

Lava that appeared slow on the surface, but would set you alight and burn your whole body if you touched it by mistake. This was someone keeping a searing rage quietly bound.

Beginning with Encrid, then moving to Dunbachel and Luagarne, her gaze settled on each before moving on. It did not linger any longer on Encrid's face.

Though dusty and grimy from traveling on foot, he was undoubtedly pleasing to the eye. Yet she took no notice and turned her gaze away.

Then she asked, "Which one?"

The question came out of nowhere.

"What do you mean by that?" Rem answered, sounding, unbelievably, a little cowed.

Rem, cowed? The surprising part was not that they seemed to know each other. It was that he seemed intimidated.

Encrid glanced around. This might be a dream the ferryman was showing him. But there was no ferryman. No mirage-like illusion. This was real. His senses told him so.

"I'm asking why you left home," the imposing woman said.

Rem did not answer immediately.

As Encrid took in the two of them, his instincts awoke. His mind began to work. He traced the course of events and arrived at a conclusion.

["You really have to come with me?"]

["You don't have to go, you know?"]

["Why bother, when it'd be quicker for me to go alone?"]

The reason Rem had dragged his feet.

["If I go now, I might die. No, I will die."]

The reason he had refused to leave while injured. The reason he had shown something so unlike him as fear. His profound reluctance, even as he said he was going to retrieve what he had left behind.

The answer to all of it stood before them.

"Hey, husband. I said fucking answer me."

The western warrior fingered the axe at her waist.

She was Rem's wife.