Chapter 957 - A Treacherous Plot
The demon Lord of the Demonic Realm, known as the 'Pure White Destroyer', sensed the death of his minion.
'This bastard.'
What he had intended to propose was an offer of power to aid him in his inevitable war against the Empire.
Even though he had pinpointed the exact thing the man currently desired the most...
'He didn't even listen?'
A ripple formed in the tranquility of his submerged mind.
Like a small stone dropped into a completely still lake, it caused a disturbance.
'How long has it been since I felt this?'
Along with a sudden wave of irritation came a surprisingly welcome sense of nostalgia.
He had spent an eternity cultivating himself to suppress all desires and emotions, yet a crack had formed in that absolute composure.
If the reason for his irritation was this clear, the reason for his nostalgia was equally obvious.
'I will reach a point where even things like this can no longer shake me.'
Once this entire ordeal was over, he would undoubtedly achieve that state.
If killing his opponent was what it took to stabilize his mind, he would simply do so.
If observing him and cultivating his patience was necessary, he would simply watch.
Among those called the Lords of the Demonic Realms, there wasn't a single one who wasn't interested in Enkrid.
The Burning Crow had also witnessed the minion it sent right after the White Destroyer's get slaughtered before it could even speak.
'Striking him down now feels like a waste of power.'
But leaving him alone was highly irritating.
Therefore, pulling him to their side was the absolute best option.
Yet, he refused to even listen.
'What an unbelievable headache of a man.'
The Promiser of Plenty and the The Mistrustful Loner viewed their opponent in much the same light.
Only the Father of the Dead remained slightly more composed.
'If I just wait...'
He firmly believed that his patience alone outstripped the other four combined.
Eventually, one of the others would lose their temper and make a move.
When that happened, he simply had to stab them in the back.
Wasn't that exactly why he had subtly been planting seeds of goodwill with the man rampaging under the title 'Demonic Realm Slayer'?
Speaking in a lighthearted tone, exaggerating his reactions, and begging the man to just leave him alone—it was all done for that exact reason.
As long as he appeared to be the most reasonable out of the five Lords, that was enough.
And so, he waited.
He waited, and waited, and waited.
Eventually, an opportunity would present itself.
The five Lords of the Demonic Realms would never physically gather in one place, but even without gathering, they could read each other's true intentions.
That was how treacherous and insidious they were, and how fundamentally similar their thought processes were.
The only difference lay in their methods: whether to actively try and give the opponent what he wanted, or to quietly observe from the shadows.
So, if one were to ask what Enkrid was doing in the meantime...
***
"You need more training."
"...You're only saying that because you lost to me in a card game, right?"
He was casually going about his completely ordinary daily life.
They were traveling endlessly forward along the secure highway.
Esther had eventually abandoned the carriage to ride her pitch-black horse, and Krais, who had been practically vibrating with anxiety, found his hands itching for something to do after several days passed without incident.
"Shall we deal a few hands?"
Travel is, generally speaking, boring and tedious.
You have to stare at the exact same scenery for days on end.
Unless it was a forced march where you sacrificed your spine and rear end to sprint on horseback, it was even more utterly mundane.
This was one of the main reasons merchant caravans were always so thrilled to cross paths with a wandering troupe.
Wandering troupes always had a wandering bard among their ranks, meaning they could listen to stories and enjoy live music.
Since it was nearly impossible to find a bard traveling entirely alone, it was a given that they would be part of a troupe.
But even without a wandering troupe, those who spent vast amounts of time on the road knew exactly how to kill time.
One of those methods was playing cards or throwing dice, lightly betting a few copper coins to keep things interesting.
Even though Krais's anxiety was spiking, he hadn't completely lost his mind.
'If we go under, we go under.'
Right now, he had to live in the present.
That was life.
It was a truth he had finally realized.
Therefore, enjoying the current moment was equally important.
"Sounds good."
Esther was the first to react.
Just because she was a witch didn't mean she was immune to boredom.
The main reason they brought the carriage was to save themselves the effort of setting up a proper camp every night.
It meant they didn't have to waste time building shelters.
Furthermore, Rem, Enkrid, Krais, and Esther were all veterans when it came to living on the road.
As a former hunter, sleeping under the stars was second nature to Rem.
For Enkrid, sleeping outside was a daily occurrence during his years as a guide and a mercenary.
Esther was a witch who had lived her entire life with nature as her home, rather than a house.
And Krais was no different; he had survived battlefields and lived out of a caravan, constantly fighting off bandits.
"Well then."
With four seasoned veterans, the campsite was set up in the blink of an eye.
They laid out a thick blanket on the ground, and the cards began to fly.
Krais dealt the cards with practiced ease.
It was a familiar game Enkrid had played often during his mercenary days.
It was a card game called King and Demon.
The rules were simple.
The King card beat all other cards.
The combination of a King and a Knight simply beat a lone King.
It was one of the strongest combinations, capable of beating almost any hand.
Then there was the Assassin card, which was the only card that could kill a lone King.
The Spy card could corrupt a Knight if it was played alone, turning it to the Assassin's side.
And if the Assassin, Spy, and Tactician cards were played together, they merged to become the Demon.
This was the absolute only hand capable of killing a King protected by a Knight.
However, this combination could only be used once.
Once played, it was completely removed from the deck until all the cards were exhausted.
'The only way to beat the Demon is...'
For the King, the Knight, and the Tactician to unite on one side.
If those three combined, the Knight and the Tactician would die, but the King would survive.
A game created by bored traveling merchants had spread across the entire continent, to the point where there wasn't a single person who didn't know how to play.
It sounded complicated, but it was actually a very simple game.
If you drew the King, you almost always won.
After a few rounds, the bets naturally started escalating to large sums of Krona.
"You're all professional hustlers, aren't you? At this rate, my pockets are going to be completely emptied out," Krais complained.
"Isn't this kind of stuff purely about luck anyway? A shaman who wields curses knows how to avoid misfortune, but they also avoid good fortune as a result. You bastard," Rem cackled, throwing Krais's words back at him.
They said the concept of gambling didn't exist in the West.
Part of it was likely because the environment was so harsh they were too busy just trying to survive, but those who wielded shamanic arts firmly believed that for every ounce of good luck you receive, an equal ounce of misfortune will surely follow.
It was identical to the concept that everything is bound by the law of equivalent exchange, though from a shamanic perspective, it was slightly more ominous.
True to that logic, the pile of Krona sitting in front of Rem, a man who had polished his shamanic arts to the extreme, never significantly increased or decreased. After a few more rounds, Enkrid had amassed a substantial pile of gold coins in front of him.
"I've always felt like the Goddess of Luck and Destiny was watching over me," Enkrid muttered.
Whether the demons were desperately trying to court him or not, he was simply going to do what he always did.
He rested as intensely as he trained, spending his time shooting the breeze and playing trivial games with his people.
It was a few rounds later.
"I bet a Mana Stone."
Esther placed down a stone brimming with her own magical power.
It was shaped exactly like a leopard's claw.
It was an artifact she had crafted by occasionally transforming into a leopard and concentrating her mana into her claws.
It was an item so valuable it was impossible to gauge how many gold coins it would take to buy it.
Krais slowly lowered his head.
He let out a heavy sigh—Haaah.
Was his hand absolute garbage again this round?
Enkrid casually assessed his own cards.
'King and Knight.'
I won.
It seemed the Goddess of Luck and Destiny was demanding more Krona today.
Enkrid placed five cards face down on the blanket, including his King and Knight.
"We should wrap it up soon and get some sleep, right? Looks like I'm the big loser today."
Krais spoke as he laid his cards face down.
The pot had grown massive.
Krais genuinely looked as if he had given up completely.
Even to the eyes of a knight, it appeared that way.
His movements, his posture, his inhalations and exhalations, the micro-tremors of his pupils—Enkrid even strained his ears to monitor the man's heartbeat.
Using the hyper-senses of a knight for a friendly card game was fundamentally wrong from the start.
Rem honestly thought it was wildly unfair, but he didn't intervene.
It was just a casual game, after all.
It merely highlighted how much of a sore loser his bastard of a Captain truly was.
Esther was much the same.
Rem simply watched the spectacle unfold as a completely neutral spectator.
He had folded his cards early on.
His pile of Krona was exactly the same size as when they started.
It hadn't changed a bit.
And then, the cards were flipped.
Enkrid's fingertips gave an uncharacteristic, tiny twitch.
The man who smiled while fighting demonic minions and Beelrog was shaken by this?
Of course, it was a tremor so minuscule that anyone without Rem's level of perception wouldn't have even noticed it.
"You were the Demon?" Enkrid stated flatly.
"Ah, well, it just sort of ended up that way. Hmm. I suppose... I got lucky," Krais smiled brightly.
Enkrid instantly realized his mistake.
He had temporarily forgotten.
This arrogant, large-eyed bastard was a total psychopath who could literally control his own heartbeat if there was enough Krona on the line.
The following evening, Enkrid decided it was time to 'inspect' Krais's skills.
"You are also a member of this Knight Order."
"No, wait, this is just straight-up harassment, isn't it? Esther, you agree, right?"
Esther's gaze was ice-cold.
She glared at the arrogant human who had ultimately won her precious claw.
"You coveted my claw."
"That was forever ago!"
"I should have taught you a lesson back then."
Esther completely turned away, ignoring him.
What followed was a session of 'light' physical conditioning and a thorough review of his swordsmanship.
Enkrid ruthlessly drilled the fundamentals, correcting Krais's posture and technique.
"When you parry a diagonal slash, if you feel the opponent's strike is soft, thrust your sword in. If you feel it is heavy, pull your sword back as if releasing a bind."
Following that, step diagonally forward with the left foot and bring the sword crashing down on their head. It was the absolute most basic counter to a diagonal slash.
It was a technique taught roughly by the third chapter of any standard swordsmanship manual.
Drenched in sweat, Krais collapsed onto the dirt, completely exhausted.
A gentle breeze rolled in, cooling his sweat.
Even his underwear was soaked, but since they had intentionally set up camp next to a stream, washing up wouldn't be an issue.
It was a good thing he hadn't been slacking on his daily physical conditioning.
In this insane army known as Border Guard, if a superior officer—whether they were an administrator or a tactician—couldn't outrun the men beneath them, they would be met with glaring, insubordinate eyes.
Thanks to that culture, Abnaier always participated in the physical training alongside him, and even Edin Molsan, a pure administrator, could run like the wind.
'At this rate, even a ten-year-old kid from Border Guard would be a master swordsman.'
Honestly, looking around occasionally, while maybe not ten-year-olds, the talent of the twelve and thirteen-year-olds was genuinely starting to shine.
'Even the kids we brought in this time.'
Once the slums were eradicated and public safety was strictly enforced, many households finally found room to breathe.
The children were given the opportunity to learn many things, and because the city inherently worshipped martial prowess, many of them picked up swords.
A few specific faces drifted through his mind.
"I'm going to become a Squire of the Madmen Knights before I turn twenty!"
A kid, maybe thirteen or fourteen, had proudly declared that with sparkling eyes.
The war orphan ate and slept at the temple in the center of the city.
What was his name again?
Krais had personally taken a liking to the kid's appearance and attitude, and had been secretly sponsoring him.
"I feel like we're going to have an absurd amount of work to do once we reach Naurill, don't you?"
Krais asked while lying flat on the moderately grown grass.
"Probably," Enkrid replied, leaning heavily on his sheathed sword like a cane.
Hearing that answer, Krais thought to himself.
'I have to do my job perfectly so that kid actually gets the chance to become a Squire.'
He brushed away the anxiety of yesterday, ignored the pathetic courtship of the demons, and digested their completely ordinary daily life.
There was a lot to think about, but in the midst of it all, he had calculated exactly what needed to be calculated.
The sunset began to wrap around their bodies.
The fading sunlight cast an orange glow, illuminating half of Enkrid's face.
Watching him, Krais continued his train of thought.
'I have to do my job perfectly.'
No, they all had to do their jobs perfectly.
It wasn't just that one kid; there were countless children he was sponsoring.
He wanted to protect them.
He wanted to protect everyone standing behind him.
He never wanted to see another person die.
That desire was absolute.
A violent shiver ran through his entire body.
When holding cards, he could perfectly control every single hair on his body, but right now, his body refused to listen.
He was trembling uncontrollably.
Because he was terrified?
Because an ominous premonition was consuming him?
Not this time.
His body was simply trembling as it fully embraced his absolute, unyielding resolve to see this through.
The leisurely carriage significantly picked up its pace starting the very next day.
After Esther muttered a few spells, the horses began to sprint at a terrifying speed.
They were already exceptional horses, but now they were running as if they were legendary steeds ripped straight from a myth.
Though they were still slower than Weird Eyes.
Then again, Weird Eyes wasn't a horse running like a myth; he was an actual mythological creature with wings.
And now, he was one of Enkrid's close friends and an official member of the Knight Order.
***
"Welcome back."
Enkrid stared at the familiar face greeting him in front of the capital gates.
It was exactly the same as last time, but despite the fact that a Duke of the Kingdom surely had an endless amount of work to do, he always seemed to come out and greet them personally.
"Duke Marcus."
"Yeah, yeah. It's me. Welcome back."
Behind Marcus stood a large contingent of heavily armed guards.
Enkrid himself was largely oblivious to his own political standing, but right now, the title 'Captain of the Madmen Knights' carried so much weight that, even setting aside his status as the King's personal friend, there wasn't a single person in the entire kingdom who would dare treat him carelessly.
There wasn't a grand, lavish welcoming ceremony, but the eyes of every single gate guard looking at him were brimming with absolute, profound reverence.
Furthermore, even the gazes directed at Rem were filled with goodwill rather than terror.
Though occasionally, there were those whose eyes completely glazed over the moment they caught sight of Esther.
"I'll gouge out their—"
Before Esther could finish her sentence, Krais smoothly stepped in.
"We deeply appreciate the warm welcome, Your Grace. However, this is hardly the place for a proper conversation. We would be even more grateful if you would share a few cups of that tea you're always boasting about."
He spoke loudly enough for everyone around them to hear.
It was a deliberate statement meant to signify that this was a highly official visit.
Taking the direct outer road, they arrived at a reception room within the castle, where Krang, shuffling through a stack of documents, greeted him.
"Oh, you're here?"
It was a casual greeting that reflected his origins before he was a king, laced with the deep affection reserved only for a close friend.
"Yeah."
Enkrid casually replied and sank into a chair, still wearing his dust-covered traveling clothes.
"A minion of a demon has infiltrated the Kingdom and is currently hiding within our borders," Krang stated, still casually flipping through his papers.
He had cut straight to the absolute core of the issue.
The Empire's envoy and everything else took a backseat; this was the immediate priority.
The exact moment Krais heard those words, he instantly realized that everything—from the letter Krang had sent to the highly specific date he had demanded Enkrid arrive on—had been a meticulously crafted trap laid by Krang himself.
'This guy calling himself a King...'
He was a man with a terrifyingly brilliant mind.
Now that he was the ruler solely responsible for the fate of an entire kingdom, it was only natural that he knew how to concoct such a treacherous, insidious plot.
***
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