"What diligence in this weather."
Boom!
As soon as Encrid muttered, a bolt of lightning struck.
"Has something arrived?"
Krang asked. Encrid nodded.
The weather was raging wildly. Suddenly, a storm had hit.
The rain had been falling since they set out, but who could have predicted such a turn in the weather?
At this point, it seemed like it wanted to be friends with Ragna. The storm's unpredictability was like a crazy, hopeless wanderer.
It had been a bright spring day just yesterday, and now, out of nowhere, this storm.
"Seven in front, ten to the left, eight to the right, and six behind us."
Jaxon reported.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
The downpour showed no signs of letting up.
The rain seemed intent on drilling into the earth.
Even though he wore a waxed robe, the rain was twisting in the strong wind, slashing across his face. His cheeks stung from the impact.
The wind was fierce. The gusts were so fast it was hard to keep his eyes open.
The rain pouring down on his clothes was like arrows stripping away his senses.
Attacking in this weather?
Calling them diligent was an understatement.
The opponent was either highly professional or had no choice but to be here.
"Do they have families being held hostage or something? Is that why?"
Encrid raised his voice, addressing the front.
As he spoke, he took a step forward, and his boot sank halfway into the muddy path. It was one of those days where every step was a struggle.
To ambush in this weather?
Wouldn't they catch a cold?
The thought crossed his mind innocently.
There was a path, but only in the loosest sense, paved with large stones scattered left and right.
It was said that one of Krang's ancestors, a wise King, had paved the road.
Thus, the path's name was the 'Blessing of the Royal Family'.
It stretched from the frontier all the way to the Royal Capital. Following the path would lead you to the Royal Palace itself.
This structure of cities lined along the road was the core of the Kingdom of Naurillia.
And then, a sudden thought crossed his mind.
Even on such a clear road, how could Ragna always get lost?
At that moment, the genius of losing his way, Ragna, turned around.
The ones who had been trailing them were closing in step by step.
Those blocking the front were doing the same.
Squinting his eyes to get a clearer view, Encrid could see what was coming.
There were three or four figures in armor with short swords in hand, along with a few others letting their arms hang loosely.
One of them, standing at the front, spoke—or rather shouted. His voice pierced through the downpour.
"Are you mercenaries? Or the reserve forces? There's no need to risk your lives for this. We're only after one person."
Nonsense.
Except for the one doing the talking, their momentum had already shifted.
Talking while attacking—it was a technique used in the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.
The enemy was pulling the same kind of trick.
Encrid gave up trying to read the movements of those closing in from all directions.
It has to rain a lot to be able to hear the sound.
It was impossible to hear anything clearly with the torrential rain and howling wind.
"Who?"
Encrid asked, knowing the answer. He raised his right hand to his ear and let his left hand hang.
"That's…."
The opponent trailed off. It was the kind of speech that made anyone wait for the next word.
The one in the lead drew everyone's attention with his gaze.
Boom!
The rain above his head started to take shape.
'Ah.'
Encrid couldn't help but be impressed.
So they brought a wizard, huh?
This wasn't just some ordinary opponent.
Encrid merely admired it. That was enough. He didn't dodge or swing his sword.
There was no need.
Sorry, but they had something like a wizard on their side too.
"Hmph."
Esther, who had risen behind him in human form, not as a panther, waved her hand.
The rain, which had formed into a spherical shape and was about to fall, scattered back into the air and burst outward.
It was a spectacle.
Bang!
The sound of the rain bursting apart echoed in everyone's ears.
In an instant, the downpour overhead vanished.
Instead, the wind, now three or four times stronger, whipped around the space where the two spells had clashed, surging outward in all directions.
Encrid braced his feet into the muddy ground. The howling wind threatened to throw him backward, but he tightened his abs and bent slightly to withstand the gusts.
Naturally, everyone held their ground as best as they could.
Even the assassins quickly crouched low.
"A wizard!"
one of the enemies shouted.
They, too, were wearing waxed robes.
However, thanks to the wind, many of their robes had been blown off, exposing their faces.
One of them, who had shouted loudly, revealed a glimpse of his face beneath his now-uncovered hood. He looked to be a man in his fifties.
His gaze fixed in one direction.
He was so shocked that he didn't even bother to pull his hood back up.
Where his eyes were looking, Esther stood, facing the falling rain with an unwavering posture.
Esther's robe, standing firm, repelled the raindrops, and the wind seemed to weaken as it approached her.
It was a mysterious sight.
Through the refracted rain, Esther raised a finger.
With her thumb and forefinger extended and the rest curled into her palm, she aimed at the man who had cried out about the wizard and whispered.
"D'muller's Arrow."
Her words were drowned out by the sound of the rain, heard by no one. The spell, formed from gathered wind, took shape and flew.
"Ah!"
The enemy wizard let out a short cry.
Thud!
His head exploded.
"Die."
Esther's voice rang out clearly, but only after she had killed her target.
Encrid thought to himself, at a time like that, shouldn't she say 'you're dead' instead of 'die'?
"…What?"
This wasn't the assassins' leader speaking, but one of his whip-wielding guards who muttered.
Were they surprised?
So was he.
Encrid recited in his mind.
He knew Esther was a wizard, but he didn't expect her to overpower the enemy so easily.
"Why are you so good at fighting?"
Rem asked Esther, his tone casual.
"I've always been good at it."
Surprisingly, Esther wasn't on bad terms with Rem, as she answered him without hesitation.
"Nice."
Rem nodded in approval.
"Kill them all!"
The assassins' leader finally snapped out of it and ordered. The rest of the enemies swarmed in from all sides.
Had they already forgotten their spell failure? No, it was because they were well-trained.
What does being well-trained mean?
It means doing what needs to be done at the right moment.
And they did just that.
They maintained their formation, shooting poisoned daggers and bolts from crossbows instead of recklessly charging.
"Ah…"
Encrid had experienced escaping from a place where soldiers encircled them, with traps and both sorcerers and wizards joining the attack.
Compared to that, this could hardly be called a proper ambush.
Moreover, now, he had Rem, Jaxon, Ragna, Dunbachel, and Esther with him.
And the enemy wizard had died with his head blown off from the start.
'We can break through easily with our strength alone.'
At the same moment Encrid thought of it, he swung his sword. Five crossbow bolts aimed at Krang clanged off his silver longsword and ricocheted away.
The whip-wielding guard also pulled out a shield, blocking one side.
Daggers thudded into the shield with a rapid 'thunk thunk thunk'. The tall shield did its job well.
Meanwhile, Rem charged into the group of assassins like a raging beast.
As soon as he charged, the assassins scattered in all directions.
But the moment they spread out, their limbs flew through the air.
They weren't quick enough to escape before Rem reached them.
Rem was faster in reaching them than they were in getting away.
Encrid's eyes caught a glimpse of Rem's axe after his charge came to a halt. It was a weapon Rem had modified at the blacksmith.
"Make the handle longer, will you?"
Rem's axe had a handle much longer than a regular one. If his old hand axe had been half the length of his forearm, this one was at least half again as long.
The axe swung silently in a graceful arc, slicing through the arms, legs, and heads of his enemies.
Its attack range was much longer than it appeared.
"You dodged?"
Rem muttered, turning his body.
He saw one enemy who had barely dodged the swing of his axe.
In weather like this, wearing a gambeson or heavy metal armor was difficult.
The enemy had the same problem.
He wore a thin leather armor, studded with small spikes, and wielded two short swords in both hands.
As he shrugged off his half-removed cloak, he shouted.
"You crazy bastard!"
He looked more like a mercenary confident in his own abilities than an assassin.
"Do you know who I am?!"
He yelled.
Rem responded with his weapon.
His arsenal wasn't limited to just his axe.
He had two throwing axes dangling from his waist and even carried a collapsible spear strapped to his back.
He also had short daggers scattered all over his body.
One of those axes sliced through the rain and wind.
As Rem's left hand flashed, the throwing axe spun through the air, lodging itself in the man's head.
The mercenary's legs flew out from under him as he crossed his swords in front of his chest.
It was an instinctive reaction, one he executed just before death, blocking in front of him—but the axe had already embedded itself in his skull.
The two swords clashed together uselessly and then dropped limply. His arms fell slack, his body losing all strength. The man's back hit the ground with a dull thud.
The axe remained stuck in his head, like a tree stump, proving its lethal existence.
The pouring rain quickly washed away the blood.
Watching this, Encrid realized something.
It wasn't just a matter of overpowering them. This was beyond that.
'They don't know.'
That much was immediately clear.
The assassins had targeted Krang's life, but they had no idea who had joined him to protect him.
They had made a hasty decision and moved quickly, rushing forward without stopping to think.
Their only concern had been to block the road.
It was, of course, a trap.
That's why Krais had advised taking the main road quickly.
Encrid hadn't expected them to fall for it so perfectly.
"Ugh!"
"Gah!"
Screams echoed in quick succession. It was coming from the back.
Ragna was rampaging. Each time his long, thick sword moved, blood spurted from the enemies' necks.
Was it an exhilarating display of a Middle Sword Technique? No.
He was killing each one with precise posture and thrusts.
With Rem charging ahead and Ragna covering the rear, the situation was under control.
Amidst it all, the most excited one darted forward, causing chaos.
"Here, over here! Right here!"
Dunbachel advanced, swinging her scimitar. She kicked off the ground, her thigh muscles straining, and sprinted like a streak of light.
Three assassins among the group targeted her with slings.
They spun strings and hand-crafted launchers above their heads, hurling smooth, rounded stones.
Dunbachel's eyes widened as she saw this.
"Where did these unlucky bastards come from?!"
Her pent-up frustration burst out.
Of course, the speed and power of their throws couldn't compare to what Rem could hurl.
Dunbachel twisted her wrist as she drew her scimitar.
With the broad blade of her scimitar, she intercepted the incoming projectiles.
There wasn't the sound of stone colliding with steel as one might expect.
Was the sound drowned out by the storm?
No.
Dunbachel skillfully absorbed the force of the stones with her scimitar's flat side, then deflected them.
Ting, ting, ting!
It was a marvel of precision, adjusting the angle just right.
It was a display of finesse and boldness combined, a feat of skill.
'Dunbachel too…'
Was she a genius as well?
Of course, if she wasn't, there'd be no reason for Rem to take her under his wing and train her.
Deflecting the projectiles, she charged forward.
While Rem seemed like a raging beast, Dunbachel was a beast, literally.
She was a beastkin, after all.
The fur soaked in the rain didn't seem to slow her down at all, and she moved with incredible speed.
Her scimitar swung in wide arcs, forcing her enemies back or slicing through the bodies of those who let their guard down. Occasionally, she would drive her claws into an opponent's head.
Anyone unlucky enough to get caught by her claws found their leather helmets split wide open, useless for protection.
"Where the hell did these monsters come from?!"
One of the assassins shouted.
Encrid was busy deflecting crossbow bolts and daggers aimed at Krang. After knocking a weapon to the ground, he kicked it up onto his foot, caught it in his hand, and flung it.
The dagger lodged itself into the forehead of the very assassin who had just shouted.
"Oh, sorry. Were you in the middle of talking?"
The dead man said nothing more. With a dagger in his forehead, he collapsed to the ground, his limbs twitching violently.
The rain showed no sign of stopping.
Sssshhh.
Boom!
Neither did the thunder. Lightning flashed in the distance once again, followed by the rumbling of thunder.
Encrid casually spoke up.
"Have you always been this popular?"
The question was directed at Krang.
"Recently, even more so."
Krang replied.
"Must be nice, like being the continent's most famous bard."
"It's just a fleeting moment of fame."
Krang calmly bantered back, taking Encrid's joke in stride.
Having taken an interest in poetry and writing since childhood, Krang was just as skilled at making light conversation.
The whip-wielding guard wanted to say it wasn't the time for jokes but kept his mouth shut.
It made sense.
The battle was ending almost as quickly as it had begun.
Esther, who had killed the enemy wizard, stood silently beside Encrid.
Rem had wiped out the enemies blocking the way by throwing his axes at the fleeing survivors.
The one presumed to be the leader had died in the first charge, his skull split open.
Ragna was no different.
The six who had blocked the rear thought that if they could just land one solid strike, they could kill Ragna.
Ragna merely made it seem that way, but if they had noticed, they would have recognized his skill at first glance.
It was only after being killed one by one with thrusts as precise as practice moves that they realized the difference in skill. By then, it was too late.
Jaxon occasionally sidestepped or took out enemies aiming for openings by stabbing their hearts, returning to his original position immediately afterward.
The rest were taken care of by Dunbachel.
"Hey, where are you going!"
She shouted in frustration at one of the fleeing enemies.
"They'll run away."
Encrid remarked, prompting Dunbachel to let out a disappointed sigh.
'Crazy woman.'
The guard had now figured out Dunbachel's identity as well.
But regardless of her madness, it was clear just from watching her fight that she was no subordinate.
Dunbachel hadn't been idle all this time. After rolling through endless training under Rem, she was a different beast compared to when she first fought Encrid.
What surprised the guard most, however, was the man standing before him.
Encrid.
Even in the midst of this storm, the man casually deflected daggers, crossbow bolts, and projectiles with his sword.
It was nearly a feat of acrobatics.
And yet, he did it effortlessly. His skill was astounding.
Encrid had become aware that his reflexes and abilities had sharpened significantly compared to before.
'Is it because of the time I was completely surrounded by the enemy?'
His instinctual blade was sharper than ever.
So much so that blocking unseen attacks had become second nature.
"You really are a great fighter."
Krang remarked, impressed as they looked around at the battlefield now littered with corpses.
Whether these bodies would later turn into ghouls or Drowners, monsters said to be born only in rivers or storms, was uncertain—but that wasn't a concern for the moment.
"Well, let's get moving again."
Encrid quietly led the group forward. With the battle dealt with, it was time to resume their journey.