'I'm scared.'
Facing herself stepping into the unknown, Dunbakel felt like she might piss herself. That was how strong the fear was.
'What if I go east and die?'
Her childhood came to mind—the moment she had been cast out, rejected by beastfolk society.
She had been terrified then too. Her knees had gone weak.
'But this time is different.'
Back then, she had no choice. Now, it was her own decision. That was the greatest difference, and Dunbakel never forgot it.
So she went forward. Eastward. Leaving behind, for the first time, the comfortable home she had known. She learned much there. Truly, a great deal.
Anu, King of the East, had great ambition. He accepted any who had skill and led his following according to a single rule.
"Do not stab your comrades in the back."
He had been a mercenary, and he was a bold man indeed. A charismatic man as well.
Some who followed him would surely be willing to give their lives to protect him. That was how it looked to Dunbakel.
'Those who chase dreams shine.'
Enkrid was the same, Anu the same. They were stars, outshining even the two moons, scattering light across the night sky.
Perhaps that was why people said the dead became stars—because of men like these.
"You're timid, aren't you?"
That was the first thing she heard upon arrival. There were plenty with sharp instincts.
"Who?"
Dunbakel feigned ignorance, but no one was fooled.
Among Anu's followers, there were more than ten who could be called knight-level.
If they crossed into the continent as they were, it would be like a tectonic shift in power. But they had no such plans. They were ready to risk their lives purely for exploration and adventure.
The Shepherd of the Wastelands tended his flocks to guard the land. The Black Hide Guild staked everything on the hunt.
"Hey. Being timid isn't a weakness."
One of them came up to her. By sheer force level, the woman could hardly be called a knight.
Anu assigned Dunbakel to her—the red-haired warrior from the Black Hide Guild, with curls and an easy laugh. In a straight-up fight, many could beat her. Yet no one enjoyed facing her. She was a type Dunbakel had never seen before, strangely unsettling.
'Not quite a squire, not quite a knight.'
In terms of awakening to Will, she was lacking, yet in real battle her efficiency was undeniable.
'Conditional, but still…'
That was what was surprising. Her way of building strength, of thinking, was utterly different.
'The world isn't neatly divided like drawing lines.'
That was the truth of things.
Because of her golden beast-eyes, Dunbakel had been abandoned by beastfolk society. For a time, she had honed her blade for revenge.
But was that truly what she wanted?
To live rightly meant to define one's way of living. Dunbakel had never done that. She had never clearly chosen a goal, or a dream.
Before, she had no chance. After, her thoughts had never reached that far.
But now? Coming East gave her the chance to sort through these things, one by one.
"Fear is not something to conquer—it's a partner you carry with you."
She learned much from that woman. Lessons she ought to have learned where she was born, but had only found here.
"Useful now, are you?"
Anu, King of the East and Mercenary King, shoved her into danger time and again.
He made her fight giant monsters, forced her into caves crawling with hundreds of serpent beasts.
From it all, she drew a few truths.
'No one has ever tasted death—so why is it the greatest fear?'
Anu's voice echoed. Words she had heard countless times.
"Instinct makes it so. Your first task is to master that. Power comes after. You reeking beastwoman."
All his words were rooted in fact—even the insult.
Dunbakel admitted it. To know oneself, to contemplate through insight—that was how the next step was reached.
'I'm scared.'
Fear is not something to overcome, but to handle.
So she did. She did not try to erase it. She acknowledged it, organized her thoughts, pursued her desires—and now she had returned.
'Though my scimitar broke the moment I got here.'
Truthfully, it hardly mattered. In the East, relics shattering was commonplace.
After her spar with Rem, Dunbakel also crossed blades with Enkrid. The beastwoman had returned with a markedly different skill, wielding new, distinctive methods of attack.
Enkrid could not help but be intrigued.
"Fight me too."
For him to suddenly charge forward was only natural. The way he wet his lips with his tongue showed his anticipation. He was hungry to fight.
Dunbakel nodded readily.
And said:
"Mm. I let my guard down."
Enkrid reacted. Every fight began before blades were drawn. That was the way he had learned.
"You even learn to thicken your skin like Rem?"
A light provocation. Dunbakel laughed softly.
"Not something you can learn."
Then the duel began.
"You're dead when this is over."
That was Rem, smiling with a killing aura dripping from him. He meant it for her—and her "thick skin." It was pressure enough to crush most, but Dunbakel did not flinch.
Enkrid watched the beastwoman's golden eyes and thought:
'To overcome fear is recklessness.'
That was something he had once heard while roaming among mercenary bands.
Not having strength did not mean lacking insight. That old mercenary had been a man who understood.
'Courage isn't forgetting fear—it's moving despite it, carrying it with you.'
What was the conclusion he had come to back then?
Ah. It was this: train like a madman until you can fight as usual, even while terrified.
He hadn't paid much attention—he already lived that way. In the end, it only mattered after he awakened the Beast's Heart.
'Not easy.'
Knowing and doing were different.
Through insight, Enkrid glimpsed part of her state.
'Scared, but fighting as usual.'
She had not forgotten fear. Instead, she carried it into battle, trained herself to do so.
Surely Anu had thrown her into countless fights for this purpose. Battles where one misstep meant death.
The impression of Anu, Mercenary King, was indelible. Even in Enkrid's mind, the man's image remained sharp.
He seemed to hear that voice:
"Stupid beastwoman—survive."
That was how he had driven her. And the result of surviving was what stood before them now.
When Enkrid unleashed pressure to bear down on her, the golden eyes curved. A smile. Her courage took the form of recklessness. Words, at least, could be reckless.
"Lightweight, commander."
The weight pressing her body was no small thing, yet arrogance tinged her tone.
Her body, however, reacted honestly. Her hairs stood on end, and she immediately shifted into beast form.
White fur sprouted thick over her body, her form transforming. Her eyes deepened, her coat spread across her skin. Fur poked out between gauntlet and greave. Her brown armor swelled as she grew.
'She's getting larger too.'
A change not present before. She had become a beast, baring her fangs.
Grrr—
A low growl beyond human hearing range, needling primal fear in all who heard. There was menace in her voice.
Different in form, but the same in conclusion: intimidation.
'A path not walked normally. But whether walking, running, crawling—she had made her way.'
Unorthodox did not mean wrong. Dunbakel had simply carved her own path.
"So you show your true form with him, but stayed tame with me?"
Rem's angry voice came from behind. His complaint was plain—why hadn't she transformed when she fought him?
He had reason to be displeased.
Enkrid, shutting out everything around him to the sound of Rem's voice, drew Dawn Tempering.
His focus flared like fire, filling his whole body with Will.
Dunbakel clenched her fists instead of reaching for a weapon. After this spar, perhaps it would be right to gift her a scimitar—one forged by Aitri.
Then the spar began. It did not last long. Enkrid confirmed Dunbakel's peculiarities and adapted.
"Killing the embers."
That was the combat method at its base: discerning the origin of every attack. It was enough to block Balrog's strikes. Even if Dunbakel had grown stronger, even if her beastform gave her insane physical ability, no beastfolk's assault could break him.
Still, several times her fists and feet crossed the boundaries drawn by his blade. That much was unavoidable—her style was highly unorthodox.
After blocking eighteen attacks, Enkrid countered on the nineteenth, slamming her across the head with the flat of his sword.
Sprawled out, she muttered, "Isn't that cheating?"
Her chest rose and fell with her breath.
"What cheating?"
Rem, watching, laughed, while Enkrid answered coolly.
"Again?"
Dunbakel's fighting had changed drastically. It was stimulating.
"Snf. Fine."
She blew out a clot of blood like clearing her nose and stood again. In beastform, her body was hardened like that of a giant.
'Armor at the level of the unconscious.'
It was not Sacred Radiance Armor, but the effect was similar.
In beastfolk terms, life force had infused her fur until it was like steel.
Enkrid raised his sword once more, and Dunbakel charged again.
After a bout of sparring—
"No feast? I want slow-roasted lamb."
Dunbakel suggested a banquet to mark her return.
"No fine liquor from the East? At least bring something out."
Rem was quick to seize on it. So—did she come empty-handed?
"Where would I find that? Even proper meals were scarce. You'd have to reach the central encampment to get even field cooking. Otherwise it was monster meat, torn raw. Why do you think they sell relics from the East?"
The meaning of her words was plain: the Eastern expedition survived by selling relics for supplies.
Hunting and foraging alone could not sustain them.
Even without seeing it, that single statement was enough to paint how barren the place was.
Rem only blinked twice, not angry. It was the face of someone truly surprised.
"You."
He started, but before he could go further Kraiss had come up beside him, nodding with admiration. Yet the judgment fell to Jaxon.
"So now you actually think?"
Even Audin joined in.
"The Lord's grace must have watched over you, sister."
Only then did Dunbakel realize she was being mocked. She glanced around, then fixed her eyes on Enkrid.
Enkrid, not to be outdone, added, "So wisdom can be trained too?"
"What the hell? I've always had brains."
She had learned to carry fear rather than deny it, and that allowed her to think clearly in battle. But even knowing the reason, their teasing was genuine.
Either way, a banquet was held.
"Slow-roasted lamb won't do? Bring out veal tenderloin—and that whole chicken fried in oil our cook devised!"
Kraiss cried out. An impromptu feast on a moon-bright, star-scattered night.
Shinar was not there, but Esther appeared suddenly, seating herself beside Enkrid.
"Will you carry me too if my legs hurt?"
She even cracked a joke, unusual for her.
"Just saw Shinar?"
"Passing by."
Esther's movements were unpredictable. Sometimes she was in the fairy city, sometimes wandering the Pen-Hanil Mountains. These days, she spent most of her time training the mage corps under her.
"What did you kill? Balrog?"
Hearing of the Mad Order's latest battle, Dunbakel nearly spat out her food in shock.
"Snrk."
A lump of lamb slipped from her mouth, then was sucked back in. Not a pleasant sight.
"You bathe now?"
Rem clicked his tongue.
"First thing you ask?"
It hadn't been the first thing—but to Dunbakel, it might as well have been. Nagging always sounded that way.
"Tell us how you lived."
That was Kraiss's question.
Dunbakel had planned to regale them with tales of monsters she had faced in the East—giant beastlike things.
But hearing of the slaying of Balrog, even of cutting down a fortress wall, drained the shine from her stories.
And she knew well she wasn't much of a storyteller.
"Fought, mostly."
Enkrid, who enjoyed stories, had been hoping for more, and prodded.
"Did Anu teach you no tongue?"
"Eh, just fight after fight. Monsters swarmed far more than here."
That was about all she could say. She added a few things about the expedition as well.
"There was a shepherd, you said?"
Peld interjected. He was curious about the shepherd rumored to be among the Eastern expedition.
"Didn't see him often. I stuck with the Black Hide Guild mostly."
The Shepherd of the Wastelands, the Black Hide Guild, the Glacier Rangers—each a name like legend. Groups that had stayed in the same region for over a hundred years.
Luagarne, as curious as a Frok, asked, "The Eastern expedition only marches onward, then?"
"They fought among themselves too. A lot happened."
Rophod asked, "Many strange monsters?"
Dunbakel answered calmly, "There was a giant. Like this tall. Most blades couldn't even pierce it. Some brawler armed with an Eastern relic took it down. How? Well—"
She rattled on until the night felt too short. The beastwoman who had said she regretted returning soon slipped easily among them.
"So if it's the Mad Order, that makes me the only beastwoman sub-commander?"
At one point, a few cups in, she spouted nonsense and nearly got killed for it.
"Kidding, kidding! Hands off the axe. And you—when did you draw that sword? What even is it? Looks rarer than most relics."
Ragna slid Sunrise back into its sheath.
Dunbakel too seemed thrilled, talking more than before she had left.
The beastwoman had returned—and all welcomed her.
It was a night where starlight patted their shoulders and wrapped their backs.