Chapter 444 - A Day of Rest
Chapter 444 - A Day of Rest
Swish, snap, zing, bang!
The battle with the harpies could be summed up in these four sounds.
In the end, Rem tore through two slings and fired nineteen rounds of ammunition.
Kyaar! Kyaar!
The harpies cried as their heads exploded. They kept charging, casting spells in response.
A swirling wind formed a barrier of sorts. On closer inspection, the distorted space appeared faintly visible, though even if it weren't, one could sense it.
So what? A barrier? What difference does it make?
Whoosh, bang!
The harpies' magic couldn't withstand the overwhelming physical force of the sling. The bullets shot from the whirring sling tore through the barrier without hesitation.
Kyaar! Kyaar!
By then, the harpies' cries sounded like laughter.
Are they laughing as they die?
Ah, they must have wanted to die but couldn't find anyone to do it for them.
Well, your barbarian executioner is here.
I've come with stones, oh yes, I have.
Murmuring an old rhyme, Enkrid didn't even have a chance to step in.
"There's a lot of them."
As he placed a hand on his Aker Grip and raised his head, harpy chicks screeched as they emerged.
The flapping of wings, scattering feathers, the rancid stench of blood—it all assaulted his nose.
More than thirty harpies had appeared.
'Might even reach fifty.'
As Enkrid watched, more harpies emerged from the stone tower, likely pushing their numbers beyond fifty.
Swish! Snap!
Once again, bullets ripped through the air, moving too fast for the eye to follow.
When a stone pierced through the chest of a female harpy with swaying breasts, black blood sprayed into the air like rain.
The harpy, now sporting a hole in place of her chest, crashed to the ground like a falling star.
Boom!
Dust billowed with the sound of impact.
The harpies didn't just sit back and take it.
Three male harpies with solid pectorals flew down, flapping their wings to launch razor-sharp feathers.
Dozens of feather blades, no different from knives, rained down on the group.
Enkrid pulled out a circular shield, about two spans wide, reading the trajectory of the feathers and blocking them.
Thunk, thunk.
The feathers failed to penetrate the oiled surface of the shield, merely embedding themselves into its exterior.
Blocking them was easy enough.
He only needed to intercept the ones aimed at him. The rest were evaded by predicting their trajectories.
'Should've just slashed them with my sword.'
That wouldn't have been hard either. Regardless, he had blocked them, so there was no point dwelling on it.
Luagarne drew her loop sword, positioning it to shield her heart, while ignoring attacks elsewhere.
She wore heart-guarding armor, with its multiple layers of thin steel plates, high-quality beast leather, and enchanted fabric around her chest. Feathers were no match for her armor and simply bounced off.
However, Frogs typically suffered from a deep-seated fear of heart injuries.
Even with double or triple layers of protection, they couldn't help but feel anxious and terrified.
Luagarne, on the other hand, was an exceptionally trained Frog who could even mutter the word heart without flinching.
The feathers struck Luagarne's limbs and abdomen but merely slid off her mucus-coated skin without leaving a scratch.
A Frog's skin, covered in a unique viscous layer, naturally deflected most bladed weapons, so this outcome was expected.
Only a blow strong enough to sever limbs could have posed a real threat.
Dunbakel simply leapt out of the attack range.
Rem, meanwhile, dodged effortlessly while spinning his sling.
The three harpies who had launched the feather attack hesitated for a moment.
Their supposedly terrifying attack—enough to make most opponents panic—had been shrugged off like it was nothing.
'If I were them, I'd be a little stunned too.'
Enkrid understood their reaction.
Good strategy always starts with understanding your opponent, after all.
Knowledge gleaned from swimming through the lake of experience.
Know your enemy, know yourself.
It's something that should happen long before a fight begins.
The male harpies' thick pectorals heaved visibly.
Ah, what are these creatures? Monsters?
The thoughts of the beasts seemed almost audible.
Their brief hesitation was a mistake.
The harpies had descended just enough to attack, bringing them within range of a determined leap.
Dunbakel sprang into action, using the tower's wall as her ground. In a few strides, she reached the harpies' height, twisting mid-air as her curved blade and claws tore through their heads and chests.
Her body spun gracefully in the air before landing lightly on the ground.
Thud, crunch, thud.
The three harpies crashed lifelessly to the floor.
Meanwhile, Rem's bullets continued to tear through the air.
Swish! Thud!
The colony leader, a harpy firing wind arrows, was struck down as well. Rem's shot pierced the leader's skull with precision.
Of course, this wasn't just any ordinary shot. Rem spun his body in a full circle, releasing the bullet with the sling's momentum, amplifying its speed.
With that, the harpy colony was finished. The leader lost her head without even casting a single significant spell.
Screeeeech!
The remaining harpies screamed in terror. Some charged in anger, while others fled.
The attackers were swiftly slain by Dunbakel and Lua Lagarne.
"Shall we move on to the next group?" Enkrid asked. The fight was over before he could act, and his companions didn't seem particularly fatigued. The night was still young.
"Let's do it," Rem replied, tossing his torn sling to the ground.
Tracking the black dog colony was even easier.
"Dogs, even as beasts, leave territory marks."
They followed traces of excrement and scents without difficulty.
Dunbakel, experienced in hunting, was excellent at tracking by scent. After all, it was her specialty as a bounty hunter wandering the continent.
Thus, they found the second monster colony.
This time, a bipedal dog emerged—an aberrant version of a hellhound.
Indeed, the creatures near this region seemed far from ordinary.
Spell-casting harpies, bipedal dogs—it was remarkable for a non-major miasma zone.
"The monsters near miasma zones are never ordinary, and that makes them all the more dangerous," Luagarne remarked, spinning her loop sword in her hand.
The heavy metal blade cut through the air with a resonant hum.
It was said mounted troops couldn't operate near miasma zones.
No animal could endure the fear these places induced. The result was an eerily desolate environment devoid of typical wildlife, replaced instead by an abundance of beasts and monsters.
Grrrr!
The leader of the beasts—a two-legged hound—spat fire and carried venomous fangs, but none of it mattered to Enkrid.
With two swift strikes, Enkrid severed its head. He parried its front paw with his left-hand gladius before finishing it with a clean slice to the neck using his right-hand aker.
Meanwhile, Rem and the others felled dozens of the beasts, slashing and battering them until they were lifeless.
There had been over a hundred beasts in total, and half were slain.
The rest, gripped by fear, scattered in all directions. Chasing them all down was neither feasible nor necessary.
"They'll die on their own," Luagarné remarked, offering an explanation.
The beasts in the vicinity were resilient, but wandering alone without a colony spelled certain doom. This region was unforgiving even to the strongest of monsters.
Her lecture on monster ecology continued, and Enkrid listened attentively. It was a topic filled with intriguing insights.
The crux of her lesson was this:
"Monsters near the Demonic Zone undergo evolution?"
On the way back, Enkrid summarized the key point in his question. Lua Garné nodded.
After resolving two monster colonies, they returned to rest, sleep, and recover. Upon waking, Aishia came looking for them.
"What exactly have you been up to?"
Her question, tinged with astonishment, wasn't about their sparring sessions but likely stemmed from the reports she had received after her rest.
By now, she must have heard how Enkrid had eliminated two colonies and a deserter who had evolved into a cult leader.
Understanding the implications behind her words, Enkrid responded casually,
"Just fulfilling requests."
He said this while meticulously cleaning his blade with an oil-soaked cloth—premium flaxseed oil, to be precise. This city's cuisine was mediocre, but its weapon maintenance supplies were superb.
It seemed as though this city existed solely for warriors destined to die in battle.
"In two days?" Aisia asked incredulously, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her sword.
She wasn't here to argue, but she marveled at how efficiently the task had been handled.
Enkrid, seated on a tree stump outside their lodgings, continued maintaining his weapons laid out on a thick leather mat.
"Two days are more than enough," he replied simply.
"Hah."
Aishia exhaled sharply, marveling not just at his combat prowess but at his tracking abilities—akin to an elite ranger.
Sure, the Thousand Stones legion had capable rangers, but few matched Enkrid's dual mastery of battle and pursuit. His work had created a much-needed buffer for the city.
Without him, they would have been forced to confront the winged harpies directly.
"Impressive work," Aishia said finally.
Just then, another visitor approached—this one far more casually dressed.
It was Knight Oara, her brown hair untamed and her outfit daringly light: a loose shirt revealing glimpses of her neckline and short trousers exposing her knees.
"Hey, want to hang out?" Oara asked with her usual unpredictability.
"Training?" Enkrid asked, hopeful.
He was always ready for a fight, his determination radiating palpable energy.
"Not today," Oara said firmly, noticing his intent gaze.
"Why not?"
"It's a day of rest."
"What's that?"
"Work for six days, rest for one—it's a divine teaching," she explained, lifting a pendant symbolizing her faith.
Enkrid recognized the sentiment. Audin, too, would have appreciated such discussions rather than dismiss them.
"You wrapped up your tasks so efficiently. It's time to relax," Oara said, her brown eyes twinkling with amusement.
Enkrid hesitated briefly before delegating tasks.
"Dunbakel."
"What?"
"Finish up here."
Without protest, Dunbakel got to work. She was dependable like that.
"Aishia, don't you have time now that the harpies and venomous hounds are gone? Come with us," Oara invited Aishia, pulling her into their plans.
As Enkrid rose from his seat, Rem, sharpening his axe with a whetstone, looked up.
"Have fun. I've got work," Rem said, fully engrossed in his task.
"How did you locate the colonies?" Oara asked, her boots light against the damp soil.
"We've got a beastkin with a good nose and a unit member who's a great tracker," Enkrid replied succinctly.
Oara listened closely, nodding in admiration at the strategy.
After a brief walk, they stopped in front of a bustling tavern. The air was filled with cheers, jeers, and shouts of encouragement.
"What's going on?"
"We lifted the alcohol ban," Oara explained.
Inside, two burly men were locked in a fierce arm-wrestling match, their struggle the centerpiece of the lively scene.
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