Chapter 423 - Rem's Resolve
Chapter 423 - Rem's Resolve
"Why?"
The question came from beneath the hood, accompanied by eyes trembling with frantic intensity. The patient was so shocked that even their breathing had turned ragged.
Their hand, which Enkrid had grasped, trembled uncontrollably—a clear sign of severe illness.
"The clinic is that way."
Seeing that the individual was an elderly person, Enkrid spoke courteously. To him, they simply seemed like someone whose pain had affected their mind.
Though a nearby cobbler shot Enkrid a sharp glare, the Apostle of Curses didn't even register it. They were too stunned by the unimaginable turn of events, so much so that they momentarily forgot to breathe.
"Why?"
The question slipped out of their mouth again. Enkrid, for his part, couldn't fathom the meaning behind it.
He thought he could feel some strange aura emanating from the stranger's body, but it wasn't particularly threatening.
The Apostle of Curses felt as if the curse he's thrown was like throwing a handful of salt into the sea—the curse dissipated into nothingness in the air.
What is this? A dream? It makes no sense.
"Are you all right?"
Enkrid asked again, his tone kind. To him, this person clearly seemed mentally unwell.
But Enkrid's calm demeanor left Reddit gasping for air.
Their curse, ineffective against Enkrid, triggered an internal reaction in their body—a sudden convulsion of the affliction they bore. It was partly because their composure had shattered, leaving them in a state of panic.
"Gah! Guh!"
Foaming at the mouth, Reddit collapsed.
"Healer!"
Enkrid shouted. Before the call even finished echoing, a massive figure was already rushing toward them—it was Audin.
With each pounding step, Audin's body seemed to grow larger. If he had been an enemy, the sheer speed and force of his approach would have been terrifying.
"General."
Upon seeing the fallen Reddit, Audin frowned—a rare expression for him.
"Ah, they're dead."
Stopping mid-shout for a healer, Enkrid checked and confirmed that the individual had stopped breathing.
Thus died Reddit, a man who, as an Apostle of the Sacred Cult of the Demon Realm, had spent over two decades killing countless targets with his deadly curses—the cult's greatest assassin.
But only two individuals could even speculate about Reddit's true identity in that moment.
One of them, of course, was Audin.
"Lord?"
Even Audin was astonished. He internally questioned how such a dangerous curse user could fall so utterly. Especially since Enkrid, the supposed target, appeared completely unharmed.
And a few paces away, watching from a distance, was the black panther, Esther.
Esther had sensed an immense malevolence and had followed it to its source. She recognized Reddit immediately.
"A born curse-wielder."
Esther knew what he was, but she also knew his curse would not work on Enkrid.
As a fire witch and a gifted mage, she could discern the nature of curses. She didn't know exactly what bound Enkrid's body, but it was powerful enough to disrupt even the curse upon her own body.
It was only natural, then, that he remained unaffected.
A curse crumbles before a greater curse.
"Snort."
With a huff, Esther turned and headed back to her quarters. Lately, she'd been working even harder to restore her magical realm, leaving her utterly exhausted.
***
The ferryman clicked his tongue at the predictable outcome.
"Tsk."
There are situations in life that one cannot handle without preparation, and there are those that even preparation cannot overcome.
The latter requires constant study and training to handle. For instance, avoiding a sudden arrow shot demands a state of perpetual readiness.
***
"Not dying to stray arrows is just common sense, isn't it?"
So said Rem. Enkrid had also trained for such contingencies, practicing to dodge Jaxen's daggers from mere paces away.
While he trained inconsistently, his preparation had been thorough.
But was this curse one of those cases?
No, it was neither.
The ferryman, knowing what Enkrid didn't, understood that curses meant nothing when faced with something far greater.
The curse of repetition that plagued the ferryman himself was a torment more severe than any other curse.
Furthermore, a curse inherently exploits the weaknesses of the vulnerable. A voodoo doll's curse may work on some but fail on others, depending on their mental fortitude.
To put it differently:
"It's a matter of willpower."
The ferryman had seen Enkrid's resolve. It went beyond mere strength of will—it exuded sheer madness.
It wasn't just strong will; it was a deranged determination.
Against such a person, even potent curses were useless.
This was precisely why curses often failed against knights.
Knights wielded a mystical force derived from their will: Will.
The ferryman, despite being startled by Reddit's potent curse, realized:
"Their opponent was too mismatched."
It was a matter of compatibility.
To someone like Enkrid, a curse was less threatening than a mosquito, less bothersome than a fly.
He wouldn't even register it as a danger; his instincts would dismiss it as unthreatening.
"Did he kill that man with just his gaze?"
A passing townsfolk made an incredulous remark.
"Don't be ridiculous. No one can kill with just a look."
Another nearby scoffed, dismissing the notion as nonsense.
No one would ever know that Reddit, the Apostle who had killed so many with curses, had met such a pitiful end.
It was an utterly futile death.
Had he instead cursed an entire city or targeted someone other than Enkrid, it might have been more effective.
But it was too late now.
Suspecting a possible plague, healers came to investigate the corpse, while townsfolk recoiled from the sight of his blistered skin.
Unknowingly, Enkrid had become the ultimate nemesis of the cult.
***
"Show me what you've got."
Rem's words prompted Enkrid to demonstrate something he had been honing tirelessly upon returning to the border garrison.
Enkrid raised his sword, Aker, its tip piercing the sky diagonally.
Rem steadied his breathing.
"If I hold back, I'll die."
When had Enkrid grown so much? Rem licked his parched lips.
The weather was suffocatingly hot, with no rain to break the oppressive humidity. Sweat poured in streams even without movement.
Sticky and stifling, the heat was unbearable.
Yet Rem momentarily forgot his discomfort.
Enkrid's overwhelming presence sent chills down his spine.
The air was still, devoid of even a whisper of wind. Even the dust on the sparring grounds clung to the earth, lying flat.
Nearby, the soldiers had naturally become spectators.
No one dared to breathe loudly as they watched.
The first to move was Enkrid.
From his ready stance, his shoulders shifted, and the blade moved.
"So fast."
Watching, Ragna could see traces of his own swift, heavy swordsmanship in Enkrid's strike.
Commander Shinar noted the precise control in Enkrid's swordplay.
Audin saw the influence of his own close-combat techniques.
Enkrid simply focused, swinging his sword with singular concentration.
What is Will? It is the force of resolve.
And what is resolve? It is the desire to accomplish something.
"An explosion of the moment."
Muscles contracted and burst forth, adding acceleration to power. The heavy pressure learned from wielding massive swords was layered into the strike.
Rem felt as though he could see the fiery aura boiling over from Enkrid's entire body.
The strength behind that single strike was something he couldn't possibly dismiss.
Rem, too, ignited the Heart of the Beast, unleashing strength that could rival an actual giant. Harnessing that immense power, he swung his axes with all his might.
If Enkrid stepped forward and brought his sword down, Rem countered by crossing his two axes in an upward arc.
Typically, lighter weapons lack destructive power, but not in Rem's hands. The axes were as light as the weapons he was accustomed to, allowing him to wield them with exceptional control.
The weapons collided.
CLANG!
A thunderous sound echoed, and a shockwave rippled outward in concentric circles.
It was the kind of reckless clash that would make anyone question if this was truly just a sparring session.
The force sent dust, which had been quietly settled on the ground, flying in every direction.
After trading just one strike, the two stood frozen, their weapons still pressed against each other.
In this tense stalemate, Rem broke the silence.
"What do you call that?"
"Giant's Strike," Enkrid replied.
"The name's too plain. You should call it 'A Giant's Last Grunt.'"
Enkrid wasn't the type to engage in idle banter. He simply said what he wanted.
Rem might have felt slighted. After all, even ordinary giants would need to exert every ounce of their strength to execute such a strike.
"And yours?" Enkrid asked.
"Feather Axe."
It was a name Enkrid had never heard before, unsurprisingly. Rem had adapted techniques from the western lands and translated their name into this continent's tongue.
Rem marveled at the growth Enkrid had shown in his skills, while Enkrid was equally astonished by Rem's mastery over the axes.
Despite the immense power behind the Giant's Strike, Rem had deflected it by expertly guiding the force with his axes—redirecting the blow using pure wrist strength.
It was an advanced skill so difficult to replicate that one wouldn't even dare to imagine attempting it.
Above all, it was a technique Rem had never shown before.
"Did you develop this recently?" Enkrid asked.
"No, just refined something I already had. There hasn't been a weapon like this before, after all."
Rem spun one of his axes in his hand as he spoke, referring to the light, durable weapons that responded perfectly to his will.
Enkrid studied the axes that had withstood the clash against Aker, his sword.
The fact that the axe blades weren't damaged at all was remarkable in itself. It was clear that the craftsman Crang had commissioned had created weapons of exceptional quality.
The craftsman had even named the weapons with pride after forging them. Yet, neither Rem nor the others who received such weapons ever used those names.
"Do they respond if you call out their names or something?" Rem had easily dismissed the craftsman's suggestion.
His reasoning was simple: these weren't heirloom weapons; there was no need for sentimentality. But there was no point in explaining that in detail.
Ragna, on the other hand, casually called his sword "Black Blade." If the craftsman ever heard that, he'd probably want to bash Ragna's head in with a hammer.
It was such a quintessentially "Ragna" approach—ignoring everything but swordsmanship itself.
Shortly after, Rem stepped back, and Ragna stepped forward.
"Now it's my Black Blade's turn," Ragna declared.
The ensuing fight was different from Rem's brawl. This time, Enkrid wasn't entirely on the defensive.
Ragna smiled as he saw Enkrid fend off even the Will of Severance.
"Impressive!"
Excited, Ragna unleashed his full talent.
"Let me borrow this for a moment!"
Ragna imitated the swordsmanship Enkrid had demonstrated earlier, though he added his own interpretation.
It was a display of insane talent.
Enkrid countered with a technique he'd learned from Rem—the Giant Cleave—using the Heart of the Beast to endure and redirect the overwhelming blows.
This exchange repeated three times.
"Once more," Ragna urged.
In truth, Enkrid had requested the last two repetitions. He'd felt stiffness in his movements during the parry and wanted to overcome it, recognizing that this practice would help him improve.
"You've come a long way," Ragna remarked at the end of their sparring session.
Rem nodded in agreement as he watched.
But Enkrid, ever composed, replied, "There's still a long way to go."
Both Ragna and Rem accepted his words without complaint. They understood that his lofty ambitions left no room for satisfaction.
That evening, Rem remained alone in the training grounds.
"They're catching up quickly," he muttered.
The leader who had once faltered without the Heart of the Beast was gone.
Should he retrieve what he had left behind in the West?
No, he decided against it.
He had made a promise to himself when he left.
"I'll never need that again," he had said.
It was his own declaration, and he had no intention of going back on it.
"Guess I'll just do what I can for now."
Even without resorting to the forbidden arts, there were ways to improve. Though slower and more roundabout, they weren't without results.
His axes, forged from Lewisian steel, were proof enough of that progress.
As Rem mulled over his thoughts, he noticed a faint presence passing by. His gaze shifted upward.
It was that sly alley cat, returning from somewhere.
The training grounds were near the main thoroughfare, so it wasn't surprising to see someone passing through.
"Why don't you just settle down and start a family, you rutting stray?" Rem's tongue moved on instinct, sharp as ever.
Somehow, it felt as natural as drinking water after wandering a desert for three days.
After all, wasn't Jaxen the kind of person who begged to be insulted?
Jaxen, who had just returned from trying to convince a particularly stubborn guild member, was already irritable.
Three near-death experiences should have been enough to change anyone's mind, yet that fool remained defiant.
Already on edge, Jaxen couldn't resist responding to Rem's jab.
"And those words come from a savage who's probably never even held a woman's hand?"
"I'm already married."
"I'll bet your manhood on the fact that's a lie."
The verbal sparring Enkrid had witnessed earlier now carried over to these two.
"Fine, I'll kill you. Let's settle this," Rem said, rising to his feet.
For Rem, it was partly a release of frustration. Memories of his past had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and taking it out on this sly alley cat seemed like the perfect remedy.
Jaxen didn't back down.
The two fought fiercely, with Jaxen showing a rare display of all his skills.
He even used Will, though his method differed significantly from that of knights.
Rem soon realized he was losing.
Jaxen, aware of his advantage, finally stepped back and said, "Go hang yourself."
"What did you say, you bastard?"
Rem cursed under his breath and made a decision.
He would return to the West.
What of his earlier resolve?
It no longer mattered.
Even if he could endure Ragna's antics, the sly alley cat pushing his buttons was the final straw.
It was decided.
Rem would return to the West soon.
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