["Adopt my pupil as your son."]

Baron Philip ruled this region. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him, but he was not without ambition.

'Someday.'

He would become lord of a vast domain. His ambition, however, had amounted to little more than a daydream. That changed when Lorenzo, a swordsmanship master, appeared.

He told Philip to adopt his pupil, and Philip agreed. Word spread that the adopted son had acquired a swordsmanship master, but this was the truth of it.

The pupil was a genius spearman. Fighting with a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, he could dispatch ten or fifteen Ghouls in an instant.

["Remarkable."]

The words slipped from the lord's mouth. Never before had he witnessed anyone so skilled. Not one of the soldiers reputed to be good fighters in his domain could match him.

His master, Lorenzo, fought even better than Caven, the pupil who had become Philip's adopted son. Both had offered to lend Philip their strength.

["I have long admired your benevolent and upright character, Baron. Having recently lost our place in the world, we wanderers thought this a suitable refuge. But if you would turn us away, we shall leave without protest."]

That was what Lorenzo had said on his first visit. With the civil war setting all of Naurilia in turmoil, rumors had been circulating of skilled men setting out to find new masters. Now such an opportunity had come to Philip.

'Think I can't do it too?'

Philip saw no reason he should be inferior to Encrid, the man everyone was talking about. The man was not even a proper noble. Just a mercenary who had lucked into his position.

'Some wandering swordsman dares...'

The bastard had exploited the civil war to make his name. Was Philip jealous, then? Yes, he was. So he needed only to take that fame for himself. Quietly gather the surrounding nobles to threaten him, and salivate over the plump morsel that was Border Guard.

Philip had done just that. And this was the result.

"I smell something. That's a noble."

Rem, once renowned as the Noble Hunter, twitched his nose as he spoke, as though imitating Dunbachel. He could hardly tell by smell, but the man certainly looked like a noble. The feathered hat, thick shirt with puffed shoulders, and calf-high leather boots made that obvious. In other words, he knew perfectly well and was mocking him.

"Who are you? This is Baron Philip's domain."

Three of those watching the two armed men were mounted. Encrid tilted his head up to address them.

"Encrid of Border Guard."

His introduction needed nothing more.

Baron Philip blinked several times. Who? Like him or not, everyone in the region knew the name Encrid. Even those who belittled the accomplishments attached to it could not fail to recognize it.

"Are you an impostor?"

Suspicious, the baron asked, but Encrid ignored him entirely and said what he had come to say.

"You've been picking a fight?"

"... What?"

What had that bastard just said?

"I asked if you've been picking a fight."

There were limits to the respect a man deserved simply for being a noble. Encrid knew full well the intangible power he held. A noble? A baron? What a joke.

He was the Ender of the Civil War, had already been granted the surrounding territories, and held the rank of general. If a noble title became an issue, a single letter would settle it. Even if trouble arose, Marcus could handle it. Besides, Krang's letter had already told him he was free to lay hands on a few of them. They were asking for it.

"You insolent wretch!"

The baron flared with anger. Shouting from horseback, he pointed a trembling finger at Encrid. General or not, how dare someone who was not even a noble speak to him that way!

"Caven!"

Lorenzo shouted. The adopted son dismounted, narrowing his eyes and taking up the spear and shield he carried everywhere.

Caven's gaze swept over the two men. They did not look like easy opponents, but he did not expect to lose easily either. At the same time, killing intent stirred within him. That had been the plan when they settled here in the first place. Their objective was to sow chaos within Naurilia.

But they could not have chosen worse opponents. The instant Caven's killing intent stirred, Rem reacted.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Rem muttered and stepped forward at the same time. His foot flexed, the front pressing into the ground as the rear half lifted. Then he vanished. That was how it looked to Caven.

It was, well, barely even a fight. Before Caven could so much as thrust his spear, Rem closed the distance and swung his axe. He moved faster than Caven could perceive. As Caven clumsily tried to raise his shield, Rem's axe passed through the crown of his head.

CRACK!

His skull split.

"Caven!"

His master Lorenzo shouted too late. He leaped from his horse, but Rem was already upon him. Catching the newly dismounted man by the throat with one hand, Rem slammed him into the ground.

Such superhuman strength made a human body look like a kite tossed by the wind. A rock poked its head shyly from the dirt. Rem drove Lorenzo's skull squarely onto it.

CRACK!

A human skull was seldom harder than stone. His scalp tore, the bone protecting his brain shattered, and blood and brain matter spilled out. Rem tossed Lorenzo aside and dusted off his hands.

They were not even worth using an axe on. Encrid had earned the name Demon Killer, yet all manner of vermin still swarmed around him.

'Good thing I brought a hatchet.'

He had picked up a wood-splitting axe at a smithy on the way. His own axe would sulk if he used an ancestral weapon for something like this.

He had killed two men, but it was nothing extraordinary. Drawing a weapon without a word declared an intent to kill, and, conversely, a willingness to face one's own death. Was that not the way of men who lived by the blade? Killing was commonplace when people faced each other with weapons, be they spears, swords, hammers, or axes.

The baron's jaw dropped. To Philip, Caven and Lorenzo had been formidable fighters. He had doubted anyone short of a knight could match them.

He had not known. There was a sky beyond his sky, a world he knew nothing of. The curtain fell on the stage of his feeble delusions, his futile ambitions unworthy even of being called dreams.

"You've been picking a fight? Sending assassins too?"

Encrid asked again. Not one of the watching soldiers considered attacking. They were all frozen, though winter was still far off.

"... Pardon?"

The ambitions and delusions lodged deep in Baron Philip's heart vanished. In their place, his survival instinct awoke. All thoughts of how anyone dared behave before a noble disappeared. The man before him was the Demon Killer.

"Let's just take his head. It'll be quicker."

The barbarian monster beside him spoke.

"Don't behead him. I'm not a murderer. If I kill everyone who picks a fight, they'll start calling me the Demon General," Encrid replied.

"Please spare me."

Hearing their exchange, the baron spoke at once. Those words took every last scrap of his courage.

He placed no faith in the soldiers behind him. An excellent choice. Armed or not, the remaining soldiers were already on their knees. What fault was any of this of theirs?

"Starting today, you'll work the fields with your own hands."

Looking at the soldiers' faces, Encrid could tell they were not doing this work on full stomachs. Baron Philip's domain was not destitute, but neither was it prosperous. He had started all this by putting his faith in those two wastrels, Lorenzo and Caven.

The baron nodded. His domain had begun with a grant of land to turn into farmland, after all. Simply looking at this man Encrid made his legs shake.

That, too, was only natural. Those hostile to him were bound to feel fear. Though Encrid kept it in check, possessing Will meant his presence subtly affected his surroundings. An enemy facing him might feel the vertigo of standing at the edge of a cliff.

"Thank you."

Baron Philip bowed his head. Becoming a subordinate domain under a great lord was hardly cause for ridicule.

"There were a few more places, weren't there?"

Leaving Philip to it, Encrid asked casually.

"Going to visit them all?"

"Since we're out here."

That was the conversation Encrid and Rem had in front of Philip. Philip was not the only noble who had been harassing Krais. Since he was already out, Encrid decided to visit them all, as though on a performance tour.

Some nobles had supporters like Lorenzo. Others had simply followed the trend, putting their forks into a friendly noble's meal. None had expected Encrid to come in person and do this, though someone who knew him could have seen it coming. Krais had more or less anticipated it.

They swept through the nobles. With a suitable pretext, Rem beheaded the utterly worthless bastards, the scum who took their subjects' wives and daughters. They brought the rest under Encrid's rule.

Even if the others had asked for a fight, even with Krang's permission, beheading nobles at every turn would cause an uproar. But there were plenty of pretexts.

"Are you insulting my honor?"

These provincial nobles always spoke fiercely at first, and every one of them put up something resembling a desperate struggle. In response, Rem threw an old glove he had picked up into the noble's face. Throwing down a glove had signified a challenge to a duel since ancient times.

"Yes. I am."

THWACK!

Some got nosebleeds from the waterlogged leather glove. Others grew furious and hurled abuse.

"Your mother's a Ghoul!"

That sort of thing. Rem shrugged it off. What was the point of talking to a corpse?

"Fight in my stead!"

Then the noble would put forward a champion.

"Your life goes on the line along with your champion's. I'll stake our captain's head too, then."

The captain whose head he wagered was, of course, Encrid. Whether Encrid identified himself or not, most encounters unfolded much the same way.

They could not simply go around beheading nobles without even these petty pretexts. The kingdom did have an established order. What Encrid and Rem were doing could be described as using a sort of summary trial by combat within that order, within what was called the law.

Well, it was all just a casual outing. It did revive Rem's fading reputation as the Noble Killer, but that was no great matter. Rem did not care either.

Back in Border Guard, Encrid resumed his ordinary life. One day he played with Odd-Eyes. On others, he sought out members of his unit to ask them questions.

He also wandered through the city. With several nobles removed and Border Guard's reputation soaring, people began targeting him in a different way. Namely, groups of ladies launched relentless assaults on Border Guard.

With heavy makeup and voluminous dresses, ladies celebrated locally for their beauty cast their lines for the great catch named Encrid. They did not realize that fishing lines belonged in seas, lakes, or rivers, while this was nothing but dry land.

"He'll fall for me once we meet."

"Do you think any man could resist this face?"

"You can do it, Rowen. If the sight of you doesn't stir his heart, he's no man. He's a eunuch."

Unfortunately, the ladies who set out with encouragement from parents and relatives encountered two walls.

The first was a black-haired beauty who, while rebuilding her spell world, had recently been observing people and their lives, coming to understand them anew. With her black hair and blue eyes, Esther was a witch who brought a blush to some of the ladies' cheeks. A beauty capable of captivating even women, one might say.

"Esther the Black Flower."

That was how the nickname someone had given her began to spread.

"I should give up..."

"I'm going home."

Some left, while others held out. Surely they had at least one advantage over Esther the Black Flower. Those who remained then encountered the Fairy, Sinar.

"The Golden Witch."

Her beauty was beyond human. They could hardly show their faces next to hers. What was a Fairy doing here?

All this happened without Encrid paying it any attention. Rumors spread far and wide that Border Guard's master held a witch on one side and a flower on the other. It was also why the courtship letters dwindled so sharply.

"That's how it happened, apparently. So they call Captain Sinar the witch and Esther the flower."

That was the story Krais told him. Encrid merely nodded and said, "Is that so?" What did any of that matter? He needed time to mull over, ponder, and wrestle with something far more important.

He had warned those picking fights, or more precisely, those who had meddled with his people. That was one task done. He had simply acted because he felt like it, and doing it had put his mind at ease. That was enough.

"I'll be off."

Krais was a busy man. Having said his piece, he left.

"All right."

Encrid answered without rising, then returned to his meditation. He was reflecting on what his companions had told him.

["Huh? How do I use my spells?"]

Rem had been the first.

["What do you mean, how? I just use them. If there's anything different, well, it's this. Divine possession basically means a spirit's energy dwells in my body. Say, the energy of a bear, or the legs of a wolf. That's how we describe it. They say you draw it out only when you need it, but the spirits are always inside me."]

Encrid remembered Rem smiling as he spoke. After returning from the West, his bouts with Ragna had announced his entry into a different world. Jaxon subtly avoided facing him, and Audin conceded defeat.

["I would lose if we fought right now, brother. There is no point."]

More precisely, he had emphasized "right now," so it had not sounded like a concession at all. It had sounded like an invitation to fight later, rather than now.

After Rem, Encrid had asked Sinar a similar question and received her answer.

["There is a flow to the world. I entrust part of my body to that flow."]

That was her answer when he asked how she had become a Fairy knight.

["It just happens."]

He had asked Ragna too, but his explanation was utter crap. Even so, it helped Encrid.

The varied experiences the Mercenary King of the East had spoken of could mean looking for differences, but also finding common ground. Just as knights used intimidation, Rem employed a similar art, a spell called Fear Infusion.

Were the two different? Yes. Yet they were the same. Their effect was the same: both overwhelmed the opponent.

His thoughts spread and scattered, then ripened and gathered again. Oara had said to simply swing, rather than rely on special techniques. How was that possible? If determination imbued a blow with Will, a simple swing could become an unstoppable cut.

Training the muscles, honing technique, steadying the heart and setting the mind straight. Such thoughts passed through his head.

What made a knight's Will different?

Seated on a tree stump, Encrid felt the breeze and heard the birdsong, along with the shouts of soldiers putting themselves through grueling training. He immersed himself in a single thought.

'Not drawing it out when needed, but leaving it open at all times.'

There was a door, and he had to leave it open. Until now, he had opened it only when needed. Fierce winds blew from outside, leaving him no choice. No, it was because the door would not stay open unless he held it with his hand. The wind itself he could endure.

How could he keep the door open all the time?

A method came to mind, and Encrid opened his eyes. Luagarne was watching him impassively. His newly opened eyes were calmer than ever, as though he had finished some preparation.

"I'm heading to the dining hall. Want to come?"

Encrid rose lightly as he spoke, and Luagarne shook her head.

"Not hungry."

Encrid headed for the dining hall. Now it was time to eat.