Chapter 584 - 584 - A Child's Words
Chapter 584 - A Child's Words
"Did we overwork him so much he's lost his mind?"
"Ah, how much work could he possibly have done? Why would he go mad? Besides, I can understand feeling so absurd that you can't help but laugh."
When Enkrid asked his question, Krais answered while looking at Abnaier.
Neither of them could truly understand the emotional turmoil inside Abnaier.
He simply seemed insane, laughing suddenly like that.
After sending Enkrid on his way, Krais approached Abnaier.
There was no point trying to stop Enkrid—it wouldn't work anyway.
Krais hadn't been able to voice his misgivings to the commander, but deep inside, an intense unease had taken root.
It was a familiar feeling.
He always imagined the worst-case scenario, no matter the situation.
If things keep heading this way...
As his anxiety spiked, Krais's sharp mind raced even faster.
If the Holy Nation doesn't resort to violence, what's their first move going to be?
What could they do to obstruct, sabotage, or harass?
If it were him, he'd do whatever it took to influence the region.
Nightmarish scenarios swirled through his mind, each more chaotic than the last.
At the same time, Krais began formulating plans to counter these possibilities.
He sketched out a rough outline, though confirmation was necessary.
In moments like this, having a strategist more capable than himself was a comforting thought.
"Abnaier, could you check if this seems right?"
Krais outlined his plan, speaking non-stop.
He left no room for interruptions.
He had been preparing for this for some time, anticipating the chaos Enkrid might stir up.
Among his preparations was a contingency for how to provide support in case a demon descended and a full-scale battle erupted.
Enkrid might pick a fight with a demon and come back.
Isn't that possible?
While demons from the Demonic Domains rarely ventured to the continent, Krais still deemed it plausible.
It was one of the ten worst nightmares he had ever envisioned.
"Dreams are something you weave with such detail, aren't they?"
His lover, Nulath, often remarked on how dramatic he was, but Krais prepared anyway.
Compared to demonic descent, a conflict with the Church seemed almost manageable.
Admittedly, it was madness—but manageable madness.
"So why are you asking when you've already decided?"
When Abnaier spoke up mid-explanation, Krais scolded him.
"Focus, will you? Does this look like someone else's problem to you? This is about everyone's well-being. What happens if the Church stirs up trouble, leaving people starving and desperate? Hmm? Does Aspen benefit from that?"
"No, I didn't mean it that way..."
Why talk about sincerity when you've already made up your mind?
Abnaier tried to defend himself, but Krais kept chastising him before letting out a deep sigh.
"Anyway, that's what we're doing."
Abnaier listened to Krais's plan, roughly remembered it, and then asked the real question on his mind.
"Don't you resent him?"
Despite his rising anxiety, Krais kept doing what needed to be done.
It was oddly admirable—and puzzling.
How could he handle such a situation without complaint?
Was there anyone on the continent who openly opposed the Church and lived to tell the tale?
Even the southern monarchs wouldn't dare, let alone the emperor of an empire.
Krais answered with an indifferent air, neither laughing nor crying.
Abnaier thought that name oddly fitting.
"We're holding a meeting in a few days. You should attend, Abnaier."
With that, Krais briskly walked off, clearly busy with a long list of tasks.
His stride betrayed some irritation, but no resentment—just a sense of duty.
It seemed the entire city shared that sentiment.
Plenty of people had heard about what happened, but few expressed concern or worry.
The sentiment was remarkably subdued.
"He's back."
"Is training starting again tomorrow?"
"Vacation. Vacation. Give me a vacation. I'll sell my soul."
Others, looking half-dead, only begged for time off.
"Spar with me!"
"You've returned, my lord!"
Even the city's ruler greeted him warmly.
It was said that his skills only truly shone in his later years.
His mere presence inspired those who didn't give up or fall behind.
In a way, it was like witnessing magic—something extraordinary yet real.
Perhaps this explained why no one questioned what Enkrid had done.
There was only one reason for their faith:
Everything he had done so far proved his worth.
"Ah."
Abnaier finally accepted with his heart what his mind had already understood.
It wasn't simply a lack of strength that had led to his defeat.
This was something he already knew, but seeing it with his own eyes and experiencing it firsthand engraved the truth deeply within him.
"I lost."
Despite the loss, Abnaier felt neither despair nor discouragement.
Instead, his heart raced with excitement, and he looked forward to tomorrow.
"What are you saying now?"
As soon as Enkrid returned, he immediately relayed Audin's words to Rem, Ragna, and the others.
This was something they needed to hear quickly.
"He said that when he gets back, he's going to beat each of you black and blue."
Enkrid repeated his earlier statement in a concise manner.
"Who's beating who? That bear cub rookie thinks he can beat me?"
"If you call him a rookie one more time when he comes back, I think he really might try it."
At Enkrid's remark, Rem chuckled, hefting his axe.
Who could possibly beat who?
Even if Audin was given the chance to fight up close, he wouldn't stand a chance, not even half of one.
Against someone at Rem's level, it wouldn't even come to close-quarters combat.
There was no way Audin, that bear cub rookie, had any chance.
He was just a solid and annoyingly tough bear of a man.
"What nonsense," Rem muttered.
His confidence stemmed from countless sparring sessions, which made Audin's limits glaringly clear.
"To me, that bear cub is already a step ahead of you."
Shinar chimed in from the side.
Fights were unpredictable until you actually faced off.
But even then, you could still see certain things.
The divine energy Audin carried instead of Will, its concentration and depth—these were factors to consider.
Of course, that didn't guarantee victory or defeat in a life-or-death battle.
But in a spar?
In a situation where they couldn't go all out with their axes?
Shinar's words made Rem's eyebrows twitch—a clear sign he didn't like what he'd just heard.
Was the fairy lying?
The odds were slim.
And Enkrid wasn't the type to joke about these matters either.
"Really?" Rem asked again, just to be sure.
"Really."
Enkrid nodded firmly.
Rem had a gut feeling it was true.
Especially since Enkrid, when it came to swordsmanship or martial arts, was deadly serious.
He wasn't someone who'd lie about such matters.
Beside him, Ragna's usually narrowed eyes widened slightly as he asked,
"Who?"
"Audin," Enkrid replied patiently.
"Who?"
Ragna repeated in the same tone.
"He said he'd be here in a few months at the latest."
Enkrid spoke calmly, knowing only those who wanted to listen would hear.
And he was sure these guys had already noticed what he had:
That Audin was hiding something.
Even Fel and Ropord had figured it out.
In fact, everyone was aware to some extent.
On top of that, Audin was the type to take secrets to his grave rather than reveal them.
They'd learned this after countless sparring sessions disguised as bullying attempts.
So, had that guy finally broken out of his shell?
Even after Enkrid's words, Ropord, Fel, and Luagarne didn't show much reaction.
Neither did Jaxen, who had a neutral relationship with Audin—neither good nor bad.
They respected each other's space in their own ways.
But Rem and Ragna were different.
They'd teased Audin endlessly and made him play the little brother role for a long time.
While rumors of the "mad youngest brother Ragna" had recently begun spreading, before that, they'd mercilessly mocked and pushed him around as the "bear cub youngest."
Rem gripped his axe and stood up.
Had he been slacking in training, playing with his new favorite toy—his subordinates?
Maybe a little.
That would change now.
"Don't look for me for a while."
Thankfully, the timing was convenient.
Recently, he'd found traces of a strange monster in the Pen-Hanil mountain range.
It was an irregular, malevolent spirit-like being.
If he could figure out how, it might even be repurposed for sorcery.
He didn't know how yet, but that was a problem for later.
He'd initially planned to take his time, but now, urgency pressed him forward.
In the west, they had a saying for such situations
"trying to catch the sun as it sets."
It was similar to saying the fire was already at their feet.
"Tell Big Eyes that our unit's on leave for now!"
Despite the cold weather, which usually discouraged movement, Rem packed heated stones and thermal leathers to show his resolve.
Enkrid, watching him, nodded and asked,
"Sparring later?"
"In a few days."
Going alone into the Pen-Hanil mountains might have sounded crazy, but this was Rem.
"If you die, I'll make sure your body is buried properly."
Enkrid raised his hand and spoke, prompting Rem to chuckle softly as he responded.
"Been hanging out with those religious types, huh? Did you pick up blessings now? Why don't you offer me a prayer too?"
"If it's necessary, I'll do that as well."
"Ugh, get lost, will you? Can't you see I'm busy?"
It wasn't exactly convincing, coming from someone who had been oiling his axe and basking in the warmth of a campfire in his quarters just before Enkrid arrived.
Meanwhile, Ragna quietly grasped his sword and stood up.
He moved to a corner of the training ground and began swinging his blade.
Swish.
Swoosh.
Whirr.
Each swing of the sword produced a different sound.
Watching them both seemed to stir something within Enkrid.
He felt a surge of energy, eager to try out the insights he had gained during his time away.
As always, upon returning, he immediately immersed himself in his usual routine—swinging his sword, training, and honing his body.
"Do you bring back a girl every time you leave the camp?
Is this some kind of collection?
Should we blame your face for this?"
Esther, now in her human form, had approached and teased him.
"The sorrow of a man without charm wells up inside me. It's not about my face—she just needed a place to stay."
Enkrid responded calmly, in a way Esther couldn't quite understand.
Even though he thought he had moved on, Seiki's words had left an indelible mark on his heart.
Seiki, for her part, had quickly adapted to the Border Guard and was now frequently seen following Shinar around.
She occasionally suggested training together but seemed particularly exhilarated by the sight of the surrounding mountains, plains, and new terrains.
Was it typical for Highlanders like her to find joy in discovering and exploring new landscapes?
Or was Seiki simply unique?
Enkrid's thoughts drifted back to something Seiki had said on their way to the city.
"I want to live my whole life in the mountains. It's not that I dislike people or anything—I just think that's the best way for me to live. Hunting, eating good food, sometimes counting stars, basking in moonlight, and drinking—that's the kind of life I want."
It was a way of life she had learned from her grandfather.
She wanted to live out her days, repeating mornings and evenings in that manner, and eventually die of old age.
Could such a life hold profound meaning?
Probably not, but Enkrid could feel the sincerity in her words.
Should simplicity be dismissed?
No, it shouldn't.
Must every dream strive to change the world?
Not at all.
Should every dream involve insurmountable obstacles?
Of course not.
Does every dream need to revolutionize one's own life?
Not necessarily.
"I know my desires could change someday. My grandfather often told me that I lack experience and knowledge. Maybe my dream of dying as a highlander is just the naïve wish of someone too young to know better. But if my thoughts change, I'll deal with it when the time comes. Right now, this is how I want to live—exactly the way I said."
Her words were those of a child who loved the moon and stars, mountains and rocks, waterfalls and streams.
She cherished the freshness of spring, the warmth and heat of summer, the coolness and abundance of autumn, and the cold and pristine snowflakes of winter.

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