"My mother tried to take my manhood. She said if I had been a daughter, she would have tried to connect me with Honorable Warrior."
The Westerner, with leaf patterns on his face, spoke boldly.
The woman who had jokingly offered her daughter the moment she woke up from a curse was this man's mother.
Now, saying she tried to take her son's parts since she didn't have a daughter, everyone burst into laughter.
Encrid also chuckled at the unexpected timing of the joke.
The man wasn't aiming to make anyone laugh, though, and he continued speaking.
"Lucky Fish has a peculiar smell, and there's a species of Velopter that loves it. When someone goes missing, we sometimes use this smell to track them down. It's used for things like that."
The dried fish he had just given them was called Lucky Fish.
It was edible but also served as a last-resort preserved food, something you wouldn't eat unless it was absolutely necessary. It was kind of like a lucky charm.
It was similar to carrying around a strange-looking stone for luck, but there was a story in the West about why it was called the Lucky Fish.
"In the old days, a lot of people went missing while hunting. It was hard to find bodies, but if you didn't give them a proper burial, they couldn't go to the Sky God. So finding the bodies became a task."
They used the scent of the Lucky Fish to find the corpses back then.
Nowadays, it's rare for people to go missing.
As they lived scattered and struggled, some began living together. They loved each other, had children, and formed families, eventually creating tribes and communities.
This was the beginning of the Western tribes.
Not from mythology, but from an anthropologist's point of view.
"It's a gift."
He smiled brightly as he handed it over.
That smile showed no shadow, only the joy of being able to give something, the happiness of offering a gift.
Encrid received the leather pouch.
Dunbachel, who was next to him, ate a piece and nodded. It was tasty, apparently.
"Does it suit the taste of beast-men?"
The man said and laughed heartily.
It was a bright, shadowless laughter.
It wasn't just this man. Everyone's laughter now lacked the shadows it once held.
The dark soot that had been there when they first arrived was no longer visible.
There used to be a hidden darkness behind everyone's laughter except for the children, but now it was gone.
Encrid liked that.
It naturally made him think of the city of Oara.
He thought about the stories written above it.
A city where children laughed, a place that could live like sunlight breaking through dark clouds.
Then he looked at the present moment again.
People, children, laughter, gifts, a moment of happiness.
While his eyes were seeing the present, his mind was passing through the past.
"Why do you hold the sword?"
"Why do you go so far?"
"That's a foolish thing to do."
"I've never seen anyone like you."
People who criticized, worried, scolded, or mocked him.
There were many people.
The ferryman was right.
There had been a lot of people around him.
And that was a good thing.
If someone were to ask him why he had never given up on his dream until now, the current Encrid would answer like this:
"Because I like seeing people smile."
Right now, no other answer came to mind.
Clouds veiled the sunlight, softly diffusing its glow. It was a cloudy sunshade.
Bright and warm, but not blinding.
It was a rare sight you could only see in the West, where rain was infrequent, and the clouds spread wide across the sky.
Under the gentle sunlight embracing everyone, Encrid gazed silently.
At the things he had protected with his sword.
* * *
People who were learning the training methods.
Those who challenged him to sparring.
Amidst that, he continued his own training and taught others until evening arrived.
For dinner, they had well-boiled beef, and the stew, which had firm radish cooked in it, was incredibly delicious.
As he was passing the time, Rem came to see him in the evening.
"Hey, they say we'll have to stay here for over a month."
Encrid had just finished washing and was drying his body, putting on the thin clothes given to him by Ziba's mother.
It was a leather outfit with a rough texture, but it wasn't painful to wear.
There were people in the West who could work with iron, but iron was a rare commodity here.
There were very few blacksmiths or craftsmen.
And since there were no iron mines, they had to go outside the West to get it.
Instead, they were exceptional at working with leather and fur. Their tanning techniques were impressive.
The thinly stretched leather garments, treated with special substances, were one of the reasons merchants from the continent came to the West.
Because of that, they were also skilled at crafting bone weapons, like bone knives, and obsidian spears.
"So?"
Encrid asked while wearing the rare Western clothes. They had a different crafting technique, didn't they?
"We have to wait, don't we?"
Rem said again.
Encrid shook the water out of his hair and answered.
"Yeah, so?"
"I'm coming with you."
"Where to?"
Rem blinked.
This guy wasn't drunk, but he sometimes said strange things as if he were.
At times like this, you had to bring him back to his senses with a clear remark.
"Where else?"
Rem gestured with his chin as he spoke.
From the way he was talking, it was obvious he was talking about the way back.
"Why?"
Encrid blinked as he asked again.
Wasn't he supposed to stay here?
Spending sweet nights with Ayul, rolling around together?
Where did he plan on going?
According to Geom Nares, they were catching up on everything they hadn't done so far.
"I have to beat up that directionless bastard, don't I?"
Oh, now it made sense immediately.
He couldn't live with getting hit, so he had to repay it in kind.
But even if they were searching for some spell, could it work? Ragna had already become a Knight.
"Why do I see doubt in your eyes?"
"Nothing."
"It's not nothing."
"Grabbing onto words, have you grown weak? If you have something to say, say it with an axe."
"...Just go to sleep."
Encrid turned the conversation away, as he had nothing more to say, and Rem spoke dismissively.
It meant to stop talking nonsense.
Encrid understood Rem's intention, so he didn't press the matter further.
They were quite the well-matched pair.
"We've got some time, so let's go on a trip tomorrow."
For Encrid, coming to the West was already a trip, but for Rem, it wasn't.
There was still plenty to show in the West.
Ayul had already shown him some places, which made him feel a bit cheated, but there were still more places left.
He wasn't angry, just a little disappointed.
After all, it was him who had brought Encrid here.
"Alright."
Encrid answered promptly.
"Let's meet tomorrow."
Rem left, and everyone fell asleep. Encrid slept soundly too.
It was a deep, dreamless sleep.
He woke up, trained his body with the Isolation Technique, and beat up the twins who requested a sparring session early in the morning.
"If you learn striking techniques..."
"Wouldn't we get stronger?"
The twins, taking turns speaking, said.
Since they were twins, they sometimes spoke like that, as if it was a long-standing habit.
Watching them, Encrid gave them some encouraging words.
"Give it a try."
Others asked about techniques, and some inquired about training methods.
Though some Westerners were content with their current state, others were committed to improvement.
Among them, there were many who possessed both talent and skill.
Encrid taught them generously.
Honestly, compared to Rem or others, he could be considered an excellent teacher.
It was only natural.
Having lacked talent, he had climbed the path slowly and painstakingly.
For those with talent, he taught them in a way that suited them.
For those without, he taught them in a way that fit their capabilities.
If you don't climb a mountain, you can't see the view from the top.
And if you rush up, you miss the scenery along the way.
Encrid had done both.
He had taken slow, steady steps, chewing on every challenge as he ascended.
So, it was only natural that he was a good teacher.
However,
"It's best to build stamina first. Run from morning till night."
"This is how you pretend to swing an axe and then trip your opponent's foot, right? Correct posture and basic drills. From dawn till noon, do just that."
But that didn't mean he was a soft teacher. If they wanted to achieve something, effort was a given.
Encrid made no compromises in that regard.
If they didn't want to do it, they could quit.
And many did quit. But they didn't resent or blame Encrid for it.
Even after quitting, they lingered nearby, roasting meat, making stew, or just hanging out.
The Westerners also made a game using twenty cards, reinforced with wooden plates. They drew animals and flowers on them.
"It's called Baktu."
They would bet on Krona while playing.
They still used Krona here, although bartering was more common. People often offered good leather or beast teeth instead of coins.
Some even had necklaces made of interwoven teeth.
The people of the continent called them barbarians, saying they needed to be civilized, but they had their own culture, and in Encrid's view, it deserved respect.
Would that make things uncomfortable?
Maybe, maybe not.
This wasn't something swords could fix.
He could protect people, slay beasts, and fight in wars, but culture and politics were not his business.
They would figure it out on their own.
It wasn't his place, nor was it his concern.
He just hoped things would go well.
As time passed, Rem came in the morning with the rising sun.
"What are you doing?"
"Just watching."
Ayul and Juol were with him too.
"Are you coming along with us to find the smell?"
Rem asked from behind Encrid.
Dunbachel, who had been dozing off while sitting on a small rock, raised her head.
It seemed Dunbachel only lacked awareness when it wasn't necessary.
"Where to?"
"We're going somewhere with the Captain."
"I'm coming along."
Luagarne, who had been listening nearby, chimed in.
Though she found the Westerners interesting and was curious about many things, what aroused her greatest desire? Of course, it was Encrid.
Even now, she found him fascinating.
How does he stop the curses?
She didn't know the principle or the reason. He didn't learn sorcery, nor did he possess any possessed tools.
Sure, let's say he somehow naturally blocked the curses. That wasn't the most intriguing part.
What about his growing swordsmanship?
How could that be explained?
Clearly, even now, he seemed to have reached his limit. The limits of his talent, his skills.
From now on, making dramatic progress would be difficult. He could get stronger and sturdier, but the difference would be minor.
That was his limit. And from the beginning, it had been his limit.
Yet, he stood between a Knight and a Junior-Knight.
How?
She didn't know.
Sometimes, people break through their limits by sheer luck.
Even Frog's ability to assess talent couldn't explain these rare cases. Some called it a trick of the Gods, or a kiss from the Goddess of luck.
'Luck has nothing to do with it.'
That wasn't luck. At least, that's what Luagarne thought.
What is luck?
It's opportunity.
What is an opportunity?
A moment.
And to seize that moment, what must one do?
Preparation.
Without preparation, luck meant nothing.
To Luagarne, Encrid was someone who prepared every day, constantly.
If you're not born with talent, does that matter?
"I'm going to become a Knight."
That's what Encrid said, and he simply kept moving forward. Without stopping or doubting.
Luagarne shuddered again today. Lately, she had been feeling this way every day.
Encrid was the kind of person who puffed up Frog's cheeks every time she saw him.
Where could you find another person like him? You couldn't. So, she'd follow him relentlessly.
The thought of becoming his mental spouse? At first, she had those impure intentions, but now they were completely gone.
She just wanted to stay by his side.
She wanted to see what lay ahead on his path, how he walked, and how things changed because of his steps.
'I'm curious.'
That was the reason her desire to explore the unknown surged every time she saw Encrid.
"Alright."
The scent, Dunbachel nodded casually. There wasn't much for her to do if she stayed.
"Alright then, let's go. It'll probably take about a month."
Rem said.
A month? That was long.
Encrid thought and asked.
"You're not even going to tell us where?"
"I didn't tell you?"
"You didn't."
"Oh, it's because the Captain was spouting nonsense yesterday."
The fact that Rem could blame others at a time like this showed his remarkable mental strength.
Ayul nodded as if she understood.
Even if someone babbled nonsense, she accepted it with a nod.
They say in the West that when the husband sings, the wife follows along.
Apparently, that old saying was true for Rem's blame-shifting and Ayul's agreement. It was an irritating sight.
Encrid calmly waited for an explanation, and Rem, not arguing further, began to speak.
"There's something called the Path of Grime."
It was about a tradition that had arisen from stories passed down from the past.
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