Chapter 595 - That's all it was
The man raised his head and asked.
His eyes were sunken, and his cheeks hollowed, suggesting he hadn't eaten properly for days.
In this vast stone chamber, there was only one captive.
A breeze from somewhere made the torch flicker, its shadows swelling and shrinking against the stone walls.
Suddenly, the man screamed.
"They're watching me! Always watching! They know everything I do!"
Half-mad, the man's bloodshot eyes bulged as he shouted.
Then, clutching his head with both hands, he slammed it against the floor repeatedly.
Drool dripped from the man's mouth onto the ground.
"Ugh... They see everything I do. Stop watching me, stop watching!"
Enkrid, neither surprised nor shaken, calmly observed the man and checked his eyes and breathing.
There were no visible signs of poison, but the man's breath grew weaker and eventually stopped.
He had died, his head buried in the ground, clutching it with both hands.
Enkrid handed the torch to Luagarne and turned the man's eyes over.
Amid the bloodshot whites, there was a dot, and debris fell onto his hand from the corners of the man's eyes. Its texture resembled stone dust, something that shouldn't have come from a human body.
The corpse reminded him of someone they had encountered earlier, who had died after being attacked at night and tumbling down a staircase.
Whatever was happening, it was unclear where to start unraveling it.
For most people, the situation would have been overwhelming.
But not for Enkrid.
If he tackled the immediate problem, the one behind this chaos would reveal themselves eventually.
Sometimes, acting like Krais was less effective than acting like Rem, and this was one of those times.
Instead of overthinking, he decided to act.
As Enkrid climbed upward, the enemy's response came faster than he expected.
If he could embrace Rem's direct approach, so could the other side.
But was that necessarily a bad thing?
The one they were after had taken the initiative to appear, saving Enkrid the trouble of searching.
At the top of the stairs, he saw not only the self-proclaimed lord but also two spear-wielders tied up and kneeling.
Next to them lay the five guild members bleeding from various wounds—arms, legs, shoulders.
It was obvious who had inflicted the injuries: the soldiers gathered here.
"What a pity you cause such trouble the moment you arrive," said the mastermind, standing at the center of it all—the administrator.
"I never liked the look of his eyes," Lua muttered.
Enkrid approached with his usual calm, scanning his surroundings.
Among the soldiers were others with different armaments, likely those who had fled the earlier fight.
Spears, crossbows, and short swords surrounded them, with the administrator at the core.
Enkrid walked up slowly, his eyes fixed on the administrator, who twitched the corner of his mouth and smirked.
"Why didn't you rest a bit while you're here instead of stirring up so much trouble?"
The scene was clear
The soldiers surrounding them, the captives, and the mastermind in the middle.
But beyond that, there was the blue sky, and to one side, a tree blooming with winter flowers.
Flowers bloom even among filth.
That thought crossed Enkrid's mind.
He didn't know much about the lord kneeling there, but the five guards seemed innocent, and he thought of the innkeeper who wanted to protect her child.
There were undoubtedly other unspoiled lives in this city, unseen but existing.
Yet this filth would corrupt, uproot, and decay those flowers over time, turning the city into a place unfit for life.
Even without foresight or deep contemplation, it was an undeniable truth.
That's just how it was.
Pushing aside his thoughts, Enkrid asked the question that had been on his mind
"What gives you the nerve to stand against me?"
It was an honest question.
Numbers, distance, positioning, even their forces—none of it mattered.
"Exactly," Lua agreed.
Crossbows or not, they didn't have the strength to contain Enkrid.
The bound lord spat blood as he shouted at the administrator, his bloodshot eyes filled with fury.
"Was it you who orchestrated this trickery?"
The lord's voice was filled with fury as he glared at the administrator.
The situation was not as the lord had perceived.
He had believed the city was under the control of three criminal guilds, and that the administrator was nothing more than a sycophantic lackey clinging to them for survival.
In truth, it was the administrator who had set the stage, allowing the three guilds to run rampant within the city.
Even before ousting the current lord, the administrator had been orchestrating everything behind the scenes.
To him, all of this was merely a game—a source of entertainment.
Watching the bumbling lord's futile rage, observing the guild leaders boast about their supposed superiority, was amusing to him.
The effort he had put into dominating the entire city was significant, yet here came the Unyielding Knight to unravel everything he had built.
The administrator had no choice but to intervene directly; the "knight" was not someone that others could handle.
This was a battle of initiative, and whoever struck first held the advantage.
"You should remain quiet. It's already been exhausting enough keeping you alive," the administrator said, his voice dripping with condescension.
Enkrid quickly pieced together the situation
The administrator was the power behind the criminal guilds.
Yet, this knowledge did not faze him.
His instincts told him that no one present could stop even a single swing of his blade.
Even if fortune smiled upon one of the soldiers, granting them a miraculous blessing, it wouldn't matter. A single block wouldn't suffice.
Enkrid possessed an unyielding will, a wellspring of energy that allowed him to cut and keep cutting without fatigue.
This set him apart—his ability to slash endlessly, a skill no other knight could rival.
At the commander's shout, all the crossbowmen pulled their triggers simultaneously.
The taut strings of the crossbows snapped, releasing dozens of bolts. Enkrid moved with blinding speed, unsheathing his sword and swinging it in one fluid motion.
Clang-clang-clang!
Every bolt was deflected, falling harmlessly to the ground.
The arc of his blade left behind a silver and black trail, as if a silver surface had been embroidered with black threads.
Luagarne, skilled in adapting to her environment, moved behind Enkrid, ensuring she was shielded.
Not a single bolt reached her.
The onlookers stood agape, astonished by the spectacle.
Among them, only the administrator knew Enkrid's true identity.
Clap, clap, clap!
The administrator began to applaud, a genuine expression of admiration.
"Remarkable!" he exclaimed.
Seeing someone deflect dozens of bolts with nothing but a sword was extraordinary.
Even the lord, still bound by ropes, was left speechless.
He had already witnessed Enkrid's combat prowess earlier, but this level of skill surpassed anything he could imagine.
"Is this what they call the Unyielding Knight?" the lord thought, recalling the title associated with Enkrid. Seeing the feats with his own eyes was entirely different from merely hearing about them.
Without hesitation, Enkrid prepared to strike the administrator. He leaped forward, his sword slicing downward in a seamless motion—a technique he had learned from Oara. The blade's movement was slow yet uninterrupted, paradoxically creating a sense of speed.
Time seemed to stretch as Enkrid felt everything around him blur and recede.
This was the sensation of slipping into the gaps between moments, a speed no ordinary human could comprehend, let alone react to.
With his target clearly identified, Enkrid swung his blade without hesitation.
There was no need to overthink; the act of cutting was all that mattered.
Two distinct sounds echoed.
Enkrid had struck and pulled back his blade in a single motion, delivering the full force of both the downward and retracting cuts into the opponent's head.
But something felt off.
The sensation in his hands wasn't right.
The target's head had been tough and resilient, not quite the feeling of cutting through flesh.
The figure Enkrid had struck—its head now split in two—suddenly shouted.
Despite the mortal wound, its mouth stretched grotesquely as it bellowed.
A formless pressure surged outward, pushing against Enkrid.
A lesser person would have been thrown back, but Enkrid employed the flow technique he had learned from Audin, dissipating the invisible force effortlessly.
What seemed natural to him was, after all, astonishing to others.
The spell "Invisible Hand" had passed without meaning.
"Truly amazing!"
The administrator exclaimed again.
Looking back at Enkrid, who held his sword lowered, he noticed something grotesque: a new head was sprouting inside the split remnants of the old one.
Of course, the administrator had a trump card to rely on—without it, he wouldn't have stepped forward.
He began to unleash the hidden power within himself.
The newly grown head lacked a mouth, bearing only eyes.
Soon, the administrator's human form melted like wax, transforming into a brown, sinewy mass.
A horizontal line bisected the entire body, and it floated in midair.
Though this transformation was the result of implanted monster power, to everyone watching, he now appeared as nothing less than a monster himself.
Moments ago, he had been human, and now he was a monster—how could anyone not be shocked by such a sight?
The lord and the spearman muttered in disbelief.
Evil Eye, a rare monster even in the demonic domains, possessed psychic powers and a petrifying curse.
It was an entity composed solely of a gigantic eye, but having lost its vocal cords during the transformation, it could no longer speak as before.
As a byproduct of some experiment, it was gradually losing its sanity.
The strength of the monster.
The Evil Eye unleashed psychic pressure, targeting the threats before it.
A formless weight hurtled toward Enkrid, but he endured it with sheer strength.
The force attempted to push him, but it lacked the power of Audin's shoves or Rem's strikes.
Although the Evil Eye was a rare creature, the experiment had left it with only half its psychic potential.
A true Evil Eye in the demonic domain might have been formidable, but this one's power was mediocre.
"At best, it's on par with Fel," Enkrid assessed, gauging the creature's strength.
Fel wasn't neglectful in training his physical strength, but compared to others, he lagged.
As such, there was no need for Enkrid to strain himself.
The Evil Eye then seized spears from the hands of nearby soldiers. Twenty spears floated midair, all aimed at Enkrid—head, back, shins, and everywhere else.
Psychic power controlled the spears, allowing for simultaneous strikes as if wielded by twenty spearmen at once.
Normally, even the best-coordinated soldiers could manage no more than three to five synchronized strikes due to physical constraints.
But psychic power removed such limitations, allowing for twenty simultaneous attacks targeting Enkrid's entire body.
And these were spears propelled with Fel's strength.
Enkrid gripped his sword in his right hand, while holding
He didn't draw the second weapon, merely held it.
The spears rained down, their tips descending into the range of his weapons.
The path carved by the sword given to him by Aetri shattered the spearheads, while Spark effortlessly sliced through the shafts.
Both weapons boasted extraordinary cutting power, and wielded by skilled hands, the results were inevitable.
One soldier muttered in awe, unable to contain his admiration.
The sight was extraordinary, a rare spectacle in any battle.
He couldn't be blamed for his reaction.
If psychic power was the Evil Eye's first trick, it had others.
Gathering the remnants of its rationality, the monster transmitted its intent via a psychic wave.
Let's see if you can fight without looking!
The Evil Eye's horizontal slit opened, emitting a gray light—the curse of petrification.
"Everyone, heads down!"
Luagarne, who had been watching, shouted the warning.
All those around immediately ducked their heads.
A man, often mocked as a fool, pushed down the heads of his comrades.
Even the lord quickly lowered his own.
Some soldiers and criminals who had hesitated, staring blankly, turned to stone.
The sound of petrification filled the air as their bodies, from eyes to entire frames, became lifeless gray statues.
Enkrid, too, lowered his gaze. Though he harbored powers far surpassing the petrifying curse, allowing him to look without consequence, he didn't know this.
Did this put him at a disadvantage?
Fighting without looking wasn't particularly difficult.
"I'll block without seeing," he murmured.
It was a training method of Jaxen's: fighting blind by sensing only presence.
Even when visible, Jaxen's movements would sometimes vanish unpredictably.
Fighting blind was a challenge from the very act of sensing.
Enkrid had endured days of such training, savoring the process despite his slow progress.
Now, conditions were far easier than back then. Shadows moved beneath the floating monster, accompanied by its scent and clear sounds.
For most, the petrifying curse was an inescapable threat. But not for Enkrid.
'No one in the Madmen Knights would fall to this, except perhaps Krais.'
Anything less would make his training a waste.
Enkrid tracked the shadow's movement to pinpoint the Evil Eye's position.
The creature's gaze spilled its curse, but for those not looking, it was futile.
Frustrated, the Evil Eye manipulated scattered blades and bolts, hurling them at Enkrid.
He nonchalantly deflected them with his sword, approaching the monster at a steady pace.
Reaching his target, he raised his steel sword with both hands, lowering his head as he prepared to strike.
The shadow of Enkrid and the Evil Eye stretched across the ground, visible even to the lord who stared downward.
To him, the shadow of Enkrid's sword looked like the blade of a guillotine.
And then, the blade fell.
Swish. Thud, splat!
The enormous eye, the size of a grown man, was split in two, black blood spraying everywhere.
The floating body crashed to the ground, splattering its vile fluids onto the lord's back, hands, and face.
Warm, reeking with a stench that made one flinch, the blood dripped down his back.
Yet the lord remained still, head bowed.

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