"Enki, it's a wave."
It was the afternoon, still some time before the sun would set.
At Aishia's almost commanding words, Enkrid relaxed his grip on the sword in his hand.
Luagarne had just finished untying the whip fastened at her waist, saying she'd inform them about the Frog's techniques.
"Let's go.
It's not something you get to see every day," Luagarne said, rewrapping the whip around her waist.
Enkrid agreed, and the rest followed.
"We're off to that cursed place.
Cursed, cursed, cuuuursed!"
Rem hummed a bizarre tune as he followed along, while Dunbakel reluctantly dragged her feet, muttering under her breath.
"Guess we have to.
Damn demon grounds.
so exciting," she said with all the enthusiasm of someone trudging to their doom.
As they walked briskly toward the northwest part of the city, Enkrid recalled a scene from the battlefield of Aspen.
A squire knight in a crimson cape had once dashed past him, leaving his heart pounding in awe.
This time, however, it wasn't a junior knight, but a full-fledged knight.
And it wasn't a sparring session; it was the real deal.
To say he wasn't looking forward to it would've been a lie.
Soon, they arrived at the west gate.
It was a pair of massive doors carved entirely out of stone.
The craftsmanship was so intricate that it left Enkrid wondering how it had been done.
About thirty soldiers had gathered, all armed with longbows, lined up along the walls.
"Here you are.
Never seen a gate like this before, have you?"
Oara greeted Enkrid with a smile in front of the closed gate.
"Did you carve it yourself?"
"No, my grandfather did," she replied, her tone hinting at a story untold.
One for another time.
"Hey!
Man of Rowena, show your guts!"
A shout echoed from outside the gate.
"Open it," Oara ordered the four burly soldiers standing by.
Then, giving Enkrid a playful nudge on the arm, she added, "Today, just watch from the wall.
Trust me, you'll witness the miracle of one man's devotion!"
Enkrid complied, ascending the stone stairs leading up the wall.
The staircase, built from stacked bricks, had a railing on the outer side that reached chest height.
As he climbed, Enkrid noticed the railing was free of dust, evidence of its frequent use.
"Oh ho, looks like a public execution."
Rem's amused comment came as he trailed behind, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Is that supposed to be entertaining?"
For once, Dunbakel's tone carried a trace of irritation.
A rare display of negative emotion from someone who would typically rather feign injury after being clobbered by Rem than show such feelings.
Enkrid, aware that the scene before them likely touched a nerve in Dunbakel, decided to let it go.
It was something she'd have to process on her own.
"Of course, it is," Rem chuckled.
Dunbakel fell silent, her lips pouting slightly in annoyance.
Luagarne, meanwhile, chewed on dried insects without a word.
Seeing her relish such delicacies, peculiar to the demon-infested areas, brought a strange warmth to Enkrid.
He thought he wouldn't mind slipping the tavern owner a few more silver coins to procure more for her.
Crunch.
Chomp.
Luagarne's long tongue darted out, wrapping around an insect and swallowing it whole.
Even her peculiar eating habits seemed almost endearing to Enkrid now.
"Is that good?"
"Want one?"
Luagarne replied, holding out her palm, where a white grub wiggled atop her slimy skin.
Rem declined.
Enkrid shifted his gaze along the wall to the right.
On the opposite wall, he spotted Aisia ascending as well.
Their eyes met briefly, and Aishia motioned ahead with her chin, as if to say, "Just watch."
Enkrid glanced at her once more before looking away.
"Hoaaah!"
A shout rang from beyond the gate.
It was someone's war cry.
"Hoaaah!"
The soldiers flanking the voice joined in, chanting in unison.
Thud!
The soldiers on the wall, armed with longbows, stomped their feet in time with the chant.
"Damn it, I said I'd do it, so I'll do it!"
The lone man of Rowena shouted with determination.
Although the wave hadn't even begun, Enkrid felt an ominous tingling sensation crawling over his skin.
Beyond the wall lay a dense gray forest, its sinister aura permeating the air.
The Demon Grounds.
A place where the earth itself seemed tainted by the malice of the creatures that dwelled there.
Directly outside the wall, the earth was a dull clay color, but it darkened as it stretched toward the forest, eventually becoming almost black near the treeline.
The stench of decay wafted faintly through the air, carried from the depths of the forest.
Mounds of earth rose like grave markers, signifying the edge of the forest.
And then, the monsters began to emerge.
Groooaaaah!
Their cries resonated through the ground, reverberating off the walls like the strike of a spear.
Enkrid's heightened senses made it appear as though he could see the sound itself crashing against the wall.
It was a testament to how far his mastery of martial intuition had advanced.
The monsters appeared grotesque: creatures that walked on all fours, others with arms so long they dragged along the ground, mouths split wide open with drool dripping down, and some with two heads.
Each bore long, jagged claws, with some having talons even longer than their claws.
Those monsters used their hands to move while their feet barely touched the ground.
Their flesh split open in places, revealing sinewy muscle beneath—a clear indication they were Ghouls.
These flesh-eating monstrosities existed solely to devour humans.
Even the spitting Ghoul from the colony before had been peculiar, but here, the abnormalities were overwhelming.
"Demon Grounds allow monsters to evolve," Luagarne had once said.
The truth of her words unfolded before Enkrid's eyes.
And their numbers were staggering.
In just a few moments, over fifty had emerged.
Beyond the forest's gray trees, their numbers seemed limitless, hidden by the shadows within.
Wave indeed.
The Ghouls now seemed like a gentle tide, but the moment they charged, they'd become a devastating flood.
But these weren't ordinary Ghouls.
A typical Ghoul might take three or four trained soldiers to subdue.
If the soldiers are experienced it may only take two.
But these?
At least ten experienced soldiers would be necessary to take on even one of these creatures.
"To face these head-on.
a few soldiers would be torn apart instantly," Enkrid thought grimly.
One Ghoul picked up a stone and crushed it effortlessly in its clawed grip.
It was clear these monsters weren't something ordinary soldiers could handle.
The sunlight seemed to dim as if the Demon Grounds themselves rejected it, their unique gray trees and dark soil enhancing the ominous atmosphere.
Fear crept in.
Seeing hundreds of Ghouls emerging from the forest, one couldn't help but feel dread.
Groooaaaah!
Their cries were like smoke rising from the depths, low, thick, and lingering.
How could humanity stand against such terror?
Enkrid gripped his sword, determined to do his part.
"Ridiculous," Rem scoffed.
"Why are they holding a public execution?"
Dunbakel muttered, trying to avoid the reality before her.
"This is your first time seeing the Ghouls of the Demon Grounds and the warriors who fight them.
Watch closely," Luagarne said, her words relentless, as if she sought to teach until her final breath.
It was as if she believed that without such resolve, even if one taught a single thing, the lesson would fail to leave any mark.
They were right in front of the city wall.
From behind Rowena's man, the wail of the ghouls from the depths received its reply.
"Oaa!"
It was the same chant as before.
A shout countering the soot rising from below.
"Laugh!"
The shout was followed by a cry, and the army atop the walls stomped the ground in unison.
It was a declaration, embodying the mindset and conviction of those who opposed this land, this city, this demonic realm.
"Let's die with laughter!"
All of them belonged to the Order of Laughing Knights, Oara.
And so, they would die laughing.
"I love you, Rowena!"
The soldier standing at the forefront, having lost a bet, yelled out.
Oara honored their wagers.
Even words spoken lightly were upheld with sincerity.
Knights, after all, are those who honor their spoken word.
It is their oath.
A will is born from conviction, and conviction begins with words spoken from one's mouth.
A knight who fails to uphold their word cannot wield their Will as it should be.
A roar swept the ground as ghouls clad in soot charged forward.
Their blackened eyes shredded through light, and their greedy tongues darted about, searching for crimson blood and tender flesh.
Gwaaaaa!
To Enkrid, Rowena's man appeared to have skill exceeding even a seasoned upper-tier soldier in the Border Guard.
He could undoubtedly prove himself at the outskirts of Martai's defensive forces.
But holding back the tide of monsters alone was beyond him.
Even so, he didn't back down.
Though Enkrid could not see the soldier's face from the wall, the voice of what was presumed to be Rowena rang clear.
"If you make it back alive, fine, I'll marry you!"
Hearing that bold declaration, Enkrid could easily imagine the expression on the man's face.
He must have been smiling.
Even in death, he would die laughing.
"Are you going?"
Rem's question came as Enkrid placed a hand on the wall.
"Probably?"
He would act as he pleased.
That was how Enkrid lived.
And so, that soldier wouldn't die today.
Enkrid gripped the wall with strength.
Though it was high and his body heavily burdened, leaping down wouldn't be impossible.
"No need," Rem said, gesturing with his eyes.
Someone had already rushed forward from behind Rowena's man.
It wasn't a nimble leap but a heavy, deliberate sprint.
Thud, thud.
Each stomp propelled him faster, his body surpassing Rowena's man and drawing a long arc until he reached the front of the ghouls.
Despite his weighty movements, he was faster than the ghouls charging on all fours, their claws scraping the ground.
It was the exact moment Rowena's man clashed with the first ghoul.
"I love you, Rowena!"
Even with his final breath, the soldier made a confession, thrusting his spear with precision.
He had no time to worry about whoever was coming from behind.
All his focus was on slaying the ghoul.
The spear's technique was commendable.
Thwack—the spear pierced upward into the ghoul's skull.
Calm and steady, the thrust hit true.
The soldier tried to pull the spear out but gave up, instead grabbing another one planted in the ground nearby.
It was then that he realized someone had charged forward from behind him.
"You started well!"
shouted the figure.
From the wall, Enkrid recognized the man's familiar movements.
It was Squire Oliver.
"Oliver, the Hex Mace!"
A shout came from one of the soldiers.
Oliver, a man with an alias, now lived up to it.
Six ghouls had advanced; one was killed by the soldier, leaving five.
Oliver wielded a long rod with a hexagonal steel head at its end.
He adjusted his pace, slowing slightly, before accelerating again to throw off the ghouls' timing.
A brilliant tactic.
Oliver swung his mace.
Thump, crash, splatter!
It sounded like fireworks exploding.
The mace smashed through ghoul skulls, sending black blood and fragments of bone flying into the air.
Oliver wasn't alone.
"The bet's over.
Fall back."
He pushed Rowena's man back.
There were four squires at Thousand Stone, all as capable as semi knights in their own right.
While not quite at a knight's level, they were formidable combatants.
Following Oliver, the other three squires advanced, wielding similar weapons.
One carried a flail with a spiked iron ball attached by chains.
Another bore a Morningstar, lacking chains but equally brutal.
The last wielded a long-handled war hammer.
The four squires formed a frontline, advancing and swinging their weapons.
Crunch, crack, splat.
Bones shattered, blood sprayed.
Amidst the battlefield's chaos, the four squires shouted in unison.
"Let's die with laughter!"
Enkrid recalled the sight of sprinting knight-trainees he had seen in Aspen's war.
These four, too, wore red capes.
The sight sent a tingling sensation through his skin, as thrilling as those charges he remembered.
Oara's instruction to merely observe felt almost cruel.
Not that Enkrid couldn't have ignored it and joined the fray.
But there was neither time nor opportunity.
"Let's go."
Oara moved first, flanked by the two semi knights.
"Excited, aren't they," Rem muttered.
He, too, must have felt the itch to act.
Dunbakel remained by the wall, retreating slightly.
The two semi knights wielded heavy weapons.
One used a thick sword-like club that could barely be called a blade.
It lacked a guard, but the long, hefty iron bar served its purpose.
He swung it like a wooden sword, though it was far from one.
Bang!
With a single strike, three or four ghouls were torn apart, their bodies exploding.
The short-haired squire fought in stark contrast, silently flitting between ghouls, using daggers or piercing strikes with an awl-like blade.
Though less destructive, her lethality was comparable.
Guttural cries from the ghouls turned to screams as green smoke seeped from their nostrils, blood streaming down their faces.
One by one, they collapsed, their heads slamming into the ground.
"Well, well," muttered Rem, clearly recognizing something.
And then there was Knight Oara.
From within the ghoul wave emerged a Ghoulra, its sagging chest marking it as female and its stature indicating it was the leader.
The Ghoulra extended an elongated arm toward Oara.
The limb stretched like a tentacle, slicing through the air faster than the eye could follow.
Even from the wall, its speed was startling.
Had it occurred up close, reacting would have been impossible.
Such a monster could easily overpower a single squire.
The battlefield path carved through hundreds of ghouls by the four squires and two junior knights suddenly became the stage for Oara's intervention.
The Ghoulra's arm stretched, and in that instant, Enkrid saw Oara step forward.
Her sword swung upward diagonally, cutting through the elongated limb.
But her movement didn't end there.
It was a simple, straight line connecting two points: where she stood and the monster several paces ahead.
Enkrid had seen such strikes before but had never executed one with such finesse.
Oara created a point where she stood, drew another point over the monster, and simply connected them with her blade.
Slash!
Oara left afterimages—the moment her feet kicked off, the instant her blade severed the Ghoulra's arm, and finally, when she split its body from chest to head, raising her sword skyward.
"Not so fast."
Oara spoke.
The Ghoulra died.
And it sent shivers down Eknrid's spine.

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