“You always have people at your side.”

The ferryman had appeared for the first time in a while. The lapping river, the violet lamp, the indistinct face. Today, he had one eye closed and the other open.

Encrid considered what the ferryman had just said. People at his side? Of course there were people. What else would there be? Was this another hint?

Then another thought occurred to him. Had anything the ferryman said ever helped? He didn't think so. His supposed advice was always to run away or give up.

Encrid let the words go in one ear and out the other. He nearly asked whether rowing out on the river was making the ferryman lonely, but kept his mouth shut. He could restrain himself. Saying everything that came to mind wasn't honesty; it was a lack of tact. So he held back.

“You're never alone, are you?” the ferryman said again.

Encrid gazed into the distance, past the ferryman and across the river. He could see nothing. Only what lay within the lamplight was discernible, and that light held only the ferryman, the ferry, the oar, and Encrid. Unlike the natural scenery of the West, there was nothing here worth looking at. Only black water.

He drew his gaze back to the ferryman. Wasn't he going to put on another one-man show?

“Solitude shall descend upon you.”

Hadn't he said something like that before? The ferryman still had one eye closed. Encrid stared at him for a moment. Their eyes met, colorless and blue. After a brief silence, Encrid spoke.

“Is it friends with that ill fortune you said was coming before?”

Everyone had moments when they simply couldn't hold back. Tact had nothing to do with it. Hearing those words had set his tongue moving on its own. It was rather like a born swordsman seeing a clumsy stroke and instinctively knocking the other person's blade aside.

The ferryman shut his mouth. He looked somewhat angry, but said nothing more. The dream ended.

Encrid opened his eyes to the same tent, and...

“Are you awake?”

Two eyes were staring straight at him. A few of the veins in them were purple, but the dark brown eyes held a certain warmth. They were full of youthful freshness, with a clarity untouched by the hardships of the world. Above them was a smooth brow, and the nose and mouth came together in a pleasing face. It was Jiba, already a cute child and destined to become quite a beauty.

“Aren't you sleeping?”

He asked without stirring. Jiba gave him a shy smile. “I woke up early.”

A human totem or a charm against misfortune—Encrid didn't know exactly what he was doing, but he knew his presence weakened their curses. Geomnarae could now get up and move around, more or less, and Jiba was well enough to play with the other children.

Hira said they needed a few more days to recover completely, but Geomnarae claimed he was fit enough to fight. He wasn't fully healed, but he could move. They were worried that the eldest shaman still hadn't awakened, but there was nothing Encrid could do about that.

As the ferryman had said, he did have a lot of people around him. When he arrived, it had only been Rem, Dunbachel, and Luagarne.

“You really are diligent, aren't you?”

Geomnarae spoke as he picked the sleep from his eyes. Beside him, Hira was already packing leaves firmly into her tobacco pipe first thing in the morning. There were his original companions too: Luagarne, and Dunbachel, waking and rubbing her sleepy eyes.

“What are you up to?”

Rem came in just then. What had the bastard been doing at this hour? He had grass and thorns clinging all over him.

“What have you been doing out there?”

Encrid pushed Jiba back by the forehead as he asked, and Rem raised his left hand. The sunlight heralding the day shone through the dim sky, so it wasn't hard to make things out. Which meant his eyes weren't deceiving him.

“Flowers?”

He held white and red flowers. A bouquet, trimmed to equal lengths and bound at the bottom with something like a stem.

“They only bloom around this time of year.”

“Flowers?”

“Ayul likes flowers.”

There was no embarrassment or awkwardness. Rem was Rem. Utterly unabashed. Encrid now knew why the bastard hadn't found the Giants despite roaming about for days. He'd been out picking flowers.

“You said you'd be right back, and you stopped here first?” Ayul said, entering the tent.

“I just dropped in on the way.”

“Yes, I'm sure you did.”

Her tone was fierce, but it no longer held the same killing intent. The corners of her eyes even softened a little at the sight of the flowers in Rem's hand. Happy, pleased—that was how she looked to Encrid.

“See you later.”

Rem turned to leave. Ayul clamped a hand around his forearm. She wouldn't leave him alone. Had she come looking because she couldn't bear to let him out of her sight for even a moment? From the look of things, she intended to kill him with something other than an axe. A bed, her body, heat—things of that sort.

They would go to the thick hide tent they called home and, on its broad mat woven from straw and dried grass, pray for the birth of another gifted soul. That would be a greater achievement than any incantation or spell. A child like Jiba would be born.

But weren't they supposed to be in a crisis? Encrid asked himself. After all that talk about his troubles with Ayul, things had improved in no time.

“That bastard hasn't a care in the world.”

Geomnarae voiced his thoughts for him. Still, it was quite nice to see.

It seemed Rem would stay behind once this was over. Ayul was steering him that way, and Rem seemed to want it too. Didn't having a child also mean settling down? Was he going to settle here? Should Encrid try to keep him?

No, he wouldn't. Rem wasn't someone he could hold on to, and he had no intention of trying. A man ought to be where his wishes and his heart lay.

“Dunbachel, come outside.”

Encrid rose as he spoke. It was time for morning training. The early sun rose, lighting their surroundings.

What Oara had left him, something compounded from all his accumulated experience. Encrid couldn't clearly sense any particular change. But...

'I can cut them down.'

He felt that even three Giants like those would be no problem.

* * *

Luagarne sat reflecting on the dream she'd had the night before. It had been deeply unsettling.

'It had been a long time.'

A face she was glad to see had appeared, but the setting was the very moment she least wanted to remember.

What mattered to a Frog as much as urges and desires? They pursued spiritual love. Sometimes, they even took humans as spiritual partners. Naturally, it didn't happen often. People with both the exceptional looks and inner beauty needed to enthrall a Frog were quite rare.

Of course, inexperienced Frogs made mistakes. Luagarne's first boyfriend had been one such mistake. Learning from that experience, she'd chosen a wonderful man the second time.

[“Lua, what do you think lies beyond there?”]

Her lover spoke as he looked at a map of the entire continent. Luagarne was a Frog, and answered like one.

[“Do you really need to know?”]

Back then, exploring the unknown hadn't been her goal. She was a devotee of technique, intent on understanding and mastering all manner of combat skills. She had simply happened to meet someone she fell for at first sight.

He was a man who shone merely by being there. He was said to have Fairy blood somewhere in his ancestry. She didn't know about that, but he was exceptionally handsome.

[“Hahaha.”] He laughed aloud. [“No, I don't have to.”]

He never forced anything on anyone.

[“I'm going to make a map. One that covers the whole continent.”]

His work was to travel where no one else went, studying and investigating. He wasn't much of a swordsman, but others shared his aspirations. Mercenaries, a former thief, discharged soldiers—and a Frog. There were more than ten of them.

Everyone, Luagarne included, roamed for their own purposes and their own gain. They explored ruins and took on commissions. Life went on like that.

But was exploring the unknown easy? Some people left.

[“You need money to get anything done. What do you expect to accomplish living like a beggar?”]

There was harsh criticism too. Her lover lived for his convictions rather than profit, so his purse was never full. Nobles who had promised patronage often withdrew their support.

After seeing off a companion who had cursed him, he smiled and said, [“Everyone thinks differently. We value different things too. I can't force anyone.”]

He would have had every right to resent them, but he didn't. He never treated people that way.

It was during those days. Before they reached the frontier in the east of the continent, an epidemic broke out nearby.

Luagarne had just been thinking about her first lover, that son of a Ghoul. She had been terribly immature herself then. She'd chosen him solely for his face, and he had used her name as he made the rounds of gambling dens. Who would dare mistreat a gambler backed by a Frog? Every word out of his mouth was a lie. In short, he was a crazy bastard.

Luagarne had broken all ten of his fingers to bring him to his senses. Snot had streamed from his nose and tears poured down his face. Three days after promising to quit gambling, he'd been lurking around a gambling den again. His fingers hadn't even healed. She hadn't killed him. He wasn't worth it. A pretty face was all he had.

Her second lover had both a good heart and grand dreams. He couldn't simply pass by a place ravaged by an epidemic.

[“This isn't good.”]

While searching for the source of the disease, they discovered that someone had deliberately caused it.

[“People will die if we leave it alone.”]

He had a naive sense of justice. And Luagarne had confidence. The arrogant confidence that, whatever happened, she could at least protect her man. She should have stopped him.

[“Lua, I'm sorry.”]

Her dying lover spoke. Having lost an arm trying to protect him, Luagarne didn't even have time to cry. Their enemy was a Cultist. It was a tragedy.

[“Have you heard of the Dog of huarin?”]

He raised pitch-black soot and commanded dozens of black hounds. In a city swallowed whole by the epidemic, Luagarne tasted despair.

[“Hunt down the heretics!”]

The holy city's army arrived and swept through the area. Thanks to them, Luagarne barely survived.

Afterward, she devoted herself to hunting Cultists for a time.

'I'll root out the Cult of the Sacred Demonic Realm.'

But that couldn't become her goal. Revenge did not fulfill a Frog's desires. A new goal came to her.

'The unknown sets people's hearts afire.'

Experience changed one's purpose, and desire followed. The gift her second lover had left her had redirected her longing.

Her lover's death replayed in her mind over and over. It continued even after she woke from the dream.

It hurt there. A terrible ache. She laid a hand over the aching place. Despite the sturdy heart guard that protected it, which she didn't remove even to sleep...

'It feels as though it might shatter and tear apart.'

Suddenly, the dark thoughts wouldn't stop. It felt as though everyone would die in the end, burn, and disappear. Frogs were mentally resilient, but that didn't mean they were perfect. They had days like this too. Days when they simply felt bad.

All those memories had come to Luagarne as disconnected scenes, linking together until they reached the present.

“Hah!”

The shout brought her back to the here and now. The eyes of the Frog lost in the past regained their focus. Her round pupils looked ahead, where she saw a man scattering sweat from his black hair.

A human who had shown himself capable of surpassing the level of a proto knight. It was a truly incomprehensible mystery.

'He showed determination beyond the level of a proto knight? How?'

She couldn't understand the process. Only words like luck or a god's whim came to mind. But looking at the man before her banished any thought of luck or divine whims.

Encrid simply swung his sword. Tirelessly, he reviewed what he'd learned and repeated what he'd reviewed. Didn't he get sick of it? He was always the same. Always doing the same thing. The Encrid of today was different from the Encrid of yesterday, yet he lived no differently.

He proved himself through his actions, through his life. In other words, he simply kept swinging his sword. Watching him, she felt her distracting thoughts fade.

Over the past few days, a strange sense of unease had prompted her to investigate the surroundings. She had found traces of soot, but wasn't certain they belonged to a Cultist. Yet keeping quiet troubled her too, so she spoke.

“I may have found traces of an evil cult. Or perhaps not.”

Encrid stopped swinging and turned his head. Lowering Aker, with the sun at his back, he said, “I see.”

He wasn't even concerned. Really, what did it matter whether a Cultist appeared before him, or a Cultist's mother, father, or grandfather? If they were enemies, all he had to do was cut them down. That was why he was swinging his sword now.

After another night, Luagarne felt considerably better.

Two days later, warriors gathered with Geomnarae at their head.

“It's time to fight.”

At his words, one of the tribal warriors raised his axe.

“For the spirit of the West!”

“For the spirit of the West!”

Everyone raised their weapons and shouted. In short, they were going to battle.

Fewer than two hundred warriors had gathered. There seemed to be a little over a hundred and fifty. Among them were Rem, Encrid, Dunbachel, and Luagarne.

They couldn't sit this out while everyone else went to fight. Besides, Encrid saw no reason to drag this conflict out. That was why he'd ignored the chieftain's offer to let him stay behind and come with the main army once it was ready, and set out.