Right. Rem wouldn't be Rem if the bastard just kept taking a beating. Who knew what he would be like once he recovered his own spells, but even now, he could give Encrid a proper fight.

Well, look at that. This should be fun, eh?

That was what Rem's axe had said, and Encrid owed him an answer. He gripped Aker and took his stance.

Ever since fighting the Giants and the mage, Encrid had obsessively reviewed his past experiences. It was a habit. And this was the conclusion he had reached: every fight had lacked something. None had satisfied him.

'A shame.'

The Giants had nothing but strength. The mage wasn't a swordsman. He had felt some pleasure, some exhilaration. The insights he had gained along the way had thrilled him, too. But those had been extensions of what came before. He would be lying if he said he didn't want to cross blades with a worthy opponent.

The Giants' strength was threatening, but their technique was abysmal. Strength might give you an advantage, but it couldn't be everything. Timing and precision mattered more. There was an enormous difference between a sword stroke delivered from a proper stance that transmitted force and a wild swing.

Cornering an opponent with precise form. That was the Righteous Sword Technique. To the technique he had learned from the demon sword called The Tutor, Luagarne had added experience, and Encrid had added time and effort. Now he used it to drive Rem into a corner.

A strike to the crown, winding strikes, diagonal cuts, high horizontal cuts, the Heavy Sword Technique's spinning cut. Through every movement, he conveyed a single message: he would thrust one-handed. That would be the final, decisive attack in this game of moves and countermoves.

Rem prepared for it. Naturally. Why fall for an attack being shown to him? As Encrid pressed him with impeccable form, however, he slipped in a trick.

The deceptive sword. The Illusion Sword Technique. Every movement Encrid had used in their game of moves and countermoves completed a single deception.

Just as he seemed about to deliver that one-handed thrust, he abruptly closed the distance. He kicked off the ground and darted in close. Seeing him approach, Rem swung his axe-holding fist.

Encrid gripped the blade near the ricasso with his left hand for half-sword fighting and presented its edge. If Rem followed through, he would punch straight into it.

Change the angle and shatter the blade with a punch? Rem could have done that, but his opponent was Encrid, and the weapon in his hands was a magic sword. Instead of punching the blade, Rem bent his wrist and brought his axe edge forward to meet it.

Sword and axe tangled, clashing and parting again and again.

CLING-CLING-CLING!

The two pieces of steel met in delight, crying out their joy in sparks.

In that brief instant, Encrid released the ricasso, straightened his fingers, and jabbed at Rem's eyes. The Blinder, from Balaf-style martial arts. It sought an opening, moving half a beat faster than his previous attack.

Even so, Rem leaned his head back and dodged. Encrid's fingertips clipped his chin, sending droplets of blood and a few strands of gray beard flying. His fingers had torn the skin.

Rem kicked upward, and Encrid caught it with his knee.

CRACK!

After that exchange, they drew apart. The instant they did, Encrid brought his sword straight down. Watching from behind Rem, Ayul thought she saw two blue meteors falling from above. Encrid's eyes created that illusion.

It was a full-strength downward cut of the Heavy Sword Technique. A knight's strike. Everything before it had also been a setup for this one move.

Normally, they sparred at eight-tenths strength. Using all ten would put them both in danger. But now, absorbed in the fight, they had unknowingly unleashed everything. For one moment, both turned serious and gave it their all.

Seeing the blade hurtle toward him, Rem swung his axe upward. He seemed to be meeting force with force. Just before the weapons collided, his wrist flexed smoothly. He caught the Heavy Sword Technique's downward stroke on his axe edge and diverted it to the side.

The Flowing Sword Technique. The Flowing Sword.

They stopped there: Encrid with Aker lowered at an angle, Rem holding his axe near his solar plexus. If they continued, one of them might die. That was how savage the spar had become. No, could this even be called sparring?

Juol let out a great breath, realizing he had been holding it. Despite the ferocity of the fight, both men smiled.

"Heh. How was that?" Rem asked.

"I mean this." A smile spread across Encrid's previously expressionless face. "That was fucking fun."

Rem snickered. He already knew without being told. The bastard Captain's expression changed whenever he was truly happy, though he didn't seem to realize it himself. Being able to smile like that, like a child receiving a present, meant he still had some innocence left.

"You're both mad," Juol said as he watched.

"Nearly lost the baby there," Ayul added in amazement.

"That's a bit frightening to hear," Rem interjected.

Dunbachel nodded silently. Those two had always been like this.

Another shiver ran through Luagarne. These days, she almost felt she watched Encrid solely to be astonished by him.

'He's improved at a terrifying rate.'

With Rem properly prepared and committed to the fight, Encrid's current ability was all the clearer.

'And he'll improve further.'

For the first time, she saw Encrid as someone still growing rather than someone who had reached his limit. Unless her talent-reading sense was broken, there was no mistaking it.

Why did she feel that way? Luagarne reached a small realization. It came naturally as she watched Encrid smile.

'Laughter.'

Smiles, pleasure, exhilaration. Encrid pursued his dream, and he enjoyed the journey. That was why he never stopped. The realization had suddenly struck her at the sight of that smile.

"Fight like that again and I might lose my child, so let's save the next round until I've got my spells back. Need a new axe, too."

Rem held up his axe. Fighting in earnest had left it covered in hairline cracks. It looked as though a tap would shatter it. Encrid nodded. Another fight like that might kill one of them.

"All right."

With that, he calmly prepared his bedding. Then it was back to traveling.

They encountered monsters along the way and took in unusual landscapes.

"A black meteor fell here. From here south, they call it the Land Joined to the Horizon."

Throughout the journey, Rem, Juol, or Ayul would explain such things. With the monsters no match for them, Grime's hunting trail became a sightseeing tour. With asymmetric forces like Encrid and Rem among them, that was only natural.

The Land Joined to the Horizon was dry earth with scarcely any grass. Here and there stood a large tree, a boulder, or a hill, but for the most part it was simply wide-open land. So wide that, with good enough eyes, one might identify even the moving specks far in the distance. It looked desolate, yet together with the sunlight and wind, it was peaceful.

Eventually, they reached the place where they had fought before.

"This is Sandbreak Canyon. As the name suggests, go through here and you'll reach the river of sand you never return from. You know the river of sand means the desert, right?"

Encrid had heard that a desert was a land of nothing but sand. He had never been to one.

"The one place a Frog should avoid above all others," said Luagarne.

The dryness had been bothering her for some time, but she bore it well. Considering how well she fought even when opponents shouted about hearts, Encrid wondered if she might be the most patient of all Frogs. Some flew into a frenzy at a scratch on their heart guards, yet Luagarne generally kept her cool unless she was facing Cultists.

Juol said touring the desert would be difficult.

"Everyone who goes in gets lost and dies," Ayul added. Encrid replied that he had no particular desire to go in, either.

There should have been traces of the battle from a few days earlier scattered about, but they had all been cleared away. The Giants' corpses seemed to have been disposed of somewhere, too.

The canyon ran deep. Beyond the entrance, now cleared of bodies, they saw a wall riddled with caves. Holes that looked like cave mouths dotted a cliff so high they had to crane their necks to see it.

"The sacred grounds," Juol said.

These were the sacred grounds of the West, a symbol of spells and a burial place as well. If asked whether he could feel a sacred presence, Encrid would probably have said he wasn't sure.

It was fascinating, though. There were all those caves, and occasionally animals clambered along the cliffs. Was that a monkey? No, it looked like a bear.

"A bearkey," Juol explained. An animal somewhere between a bear and a monkey, he said.

Encrid wondered why such a thing even existed.

"They're sacred animals. You mustn't hunt them."

In other words, you couldn't eat them even if you were starving to death. It looked rather slow, with pointed ears and a round body.

Perhaps because humans never harmed them, one bearkey approached, set something down, and left. It was a red fruit. Split open, it was full of tiny seeds like a pomegranate.

"Immortality fruit. Tart, but sweet and tasty. We've received a gift, so we should give one back."

Juol set out pieces of Lucky fish and snacks made from grain flour. The bearkey approached with a measure of caution and took the food. Its eyes kept flicking toward them, so it didn't seem entirely without wariness.

"Those cannibal bastards even attack bearkeys. Judging by its reaction, they haven't been hiding here."

"The ones who escaped that day?"

"Yes. They're probably still being pursued. The hunters went out together, so they'll catch them soon. The West is vast, but there's nowhere to hide."

Encrid remembered planting a dagger in the back of that last fellow, the one who had wielded a dagger himself. Given where it had struck, the man would have trouble moving normally. Were spells as effective at healing as divine power? If so, he might be walking on two legs, but otherwise, his walking days would be over.

The dagger had struck squarely near his spine. Unless he wore an artifact like Encrid's own bandage armor, it would have been a severe injury.

Yet somehow he was still a fugitive, rather than captured and imprisoned or long since dead. That alone marked him as exceptional. His skills had certainly been outstanding.

"Let's go."

The Path of Grime did not end here. They traveled on, telling stories, sparring, cooking, and throwing Dunbachel into lakes. They mostly rode at a run on their Velopters. The land felt far more expansive than the continent, without mountain ranges blocking their view.

After they had ridden west for some time, a Ghoul suddenly appeared in their path.

GROOOOAN.

A Ghoul, a monster rarely seen in the West and practically a symbol of the Demonic Realm. Dunbachel stepped forward. A curved sword flashed from her waist and severed its neck in one stroke.

With a thud, its neck parted like a bundle of dry straw. Black blood flowed, and its head flew off and rolled across the ground. After they encountered several more Ghouls, Ayul spoke in a grave voice.

"Rem, beyond here is forbidden territory."

"I know."

"That means we can't go any farther."

"I know."

Nevertheless, Rem kept walking. "I said we'd follow the real Path of Grime."

The legend left by the hero Grime had no happy ending. He had found a Demonic Realm and died fighting the monsters that emerged from it. His end had been more desperate than happy, and as great as it was desperate.

"The West has a Demonic Realm, too," Rem said.

Demonic Realms were scattered across the entire continent. The southern one was known as the largest, but it was hardly the only Demonic Realm. That was merely what Encrid had heard through hearsay.

"And some Demonic Realms have names."

Rem knew more than Encrid. He had seen the one in the West during his coming-of-age rite. It was a secret known only to a few. During that rite, he had approached its border and peered inside.

"This one's called Silence."

Rem stopped, then asked with a smile, "Want a look?"

Encrid nodded. He didn't even pause for breath.

He would take up his sword to protect those behind him. That was the knight he dreamed of becoming. The Demonic Realm was one of the things standing in the way of that dream. The balrog that had killed Oara had been an inhabitant of a Demonic Realm, too.

"Ayul, it'll be all right. You know why it's called Silence." After thinking it over for some time, Juol reassured her. She nodded reluctantly.

They had ridden their Velopters for more than twenty days. Not at full speed, but fast nonetheless. Their destination had been the Demonic Realm.

As they advanced, the ocher earth gradually turned black. Not simply black, but dreary, and a rank smell began to rise from it.

GROOOAR!

Ghouls occasionally appeared, along with mutated Ratmen. Still, there weren't many. Far too few for a place called a Demonic Realm.

All the grass around them vanished, and a low ridge blocked their view. Though low, it stretched far to either side, entirely black. They climbed partway up. Having come this far, Ayul no longer objected.

Some westerners said merely setting foot here would kill you, but those in the know understood. There was no such curse. Going inside would harm the body, but this wasn't even the entrance. It was only land near the Demonic Realm. The true Demonic Realm lay beyond the black fog.

From atop the ridge, they could see occasional patches of another color amid the drab blackness. Gray trees, the hallmark of a Demonic Realm. Their shapes were grotesque. Branches and leaves clustered into the likeness of a woman with disheveled hair.

The rocks resembled human hearts, a dull, lusterless dark brown. The wind blew, but unlike the refreshing breezes before, it was heavy with a bleak presence.

The Gray Forest Demonic Realm had been a curse upon the city of Oara. Knight Oara had cut that curse apart. And now, before them lay the curse upon the West.

Black fog spread to either side, preventing a clear view.

"Monsters have come out of here exactly twice. Both times, the West nearly fell." Rem spoke of bygone events.

"The purple demonic human was one of them. In spellcraft, they say a ridiculous name can't hold power. Apparently that's why they gave it that name."

Hadn't the fortune-teller tribe's curse been called the purple demonic human's curse?

Encrid saw a certain fire in Rem's eyes. A determination to bring that Demonic Realm to an end. There had to be a reason.

"Did it get someone you knew? Family?"

Perhaps it had happened when the purple demonic human appeared. And his dying father would have told him: run, don't fight, leave the Demonic Realm alone. The people of the western continent would do nothing about it. Meddling with it brought only death. Rem would not have liked that. His father's killer, his family's killer. Was that it?

Rem snorted as though Encrid were talking nonsense. "What are you on about? I just don't like having it as a neighbor." His manner was utterly casual.

"That's all?" Encrid asked.

"What more do I need?"

Wasn't it a bit far away to count as a neighbor? The thought crossed Encrid's mind, but it was a very Rem-like answer. He didn't like it. Encrid felt the same.

"We didn't come here to charge in, so restrain yourself."

"What?"

"Weren't you about to charge?"

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You get that crazy look in your eyes whenever you see a Demonic Realm or monsters. Like that Frog when she sees Cultists."

"I do?"

"Yes."

Encrid strongly disliked the way Rem was looking at him as though he were mad.

"Charging in now would be suicide. Get a grip. Fuck, we'll have to stop him by force if that doesn't work. Ayul, get ready."

Rem sounded serious, and a curse escaped Encrid's lips. "You son of a bi—"

"You'd die for nothing! Snap out of it!"

Unable to take any more, Encrid swung Aker. The two scuffled for a while in this place called a Demonic Realm, this forbidden territory. Still, neither fought seriously.

The spar ended only after Encrid slammed a fist into Rem's side. Rem had challenged him without receiving a spell, so Encrid had the advantage.

Sweating, they suddenly broke into snickers. Both had been deliberately joking. It was a declaration of their determination: they would erase that Demonic Realm, but there was no need to risk their lives right this moment.

Mad bastards, the pair of them.

"Anyway, we'll come back here."

"Right. We'll take care of it and clear it away then."

"Let's do that."

The two rose, and Ayul scrutinized her husband. Something had to be wrong with his head. Talking about clearing away a Demonic Realm, and laughing about it, too. What was there to laugh at?

Juol's heart simply raced. Their ambition was so absurd. Yet his heart pounded fiercely all the same. Anticipation surged within him. He felt he finally understood why so many people gathered around the honorary Hero named Encrid.

Because he was good at fighting? Plenty of people were. There was Rem, and the West had had Heroes in the past. Because he was handsome? No, not that either.

'Dreams.'

His ambition was different, and so was the way he pursued his dreams. In short, his approach to life was dazzling. People naturally gathered around a man like that.

It moved Juol in some profound way. Without realizing it, he began to cry.

"If you're scared, piss yourself. Better that than crying. What are you crying for?" Rem chided him.

Juol laughed through his tears. It felt as though what they spoke of had already come true.

"Is it contagious?" Rem muttered worriedly.