Chapter 469 - Acquaintances

Chapter 469 - Acquaintances

Clothes stained with deep purple blood, a dagger in hand, and the still refreshing breeze under a sky filled with billowing clouds.

Amid it all, three incongruous corpses of giants.

It would be dangerous.

Instinct warned of this.

Yet turning back was not an option.

"Alright, let's go," Enkrid said.

It sounded sudden, almost out of place, but his intent was clear: he would go with him.

"If you're going, I'm going too," said Luagarne.

"Heh, fine. I'll tag along as well," Dunbakel added, almost as if doing them a favor.

Rem looked at Enkrid.

Would a man like him go just because he was told to?

Definitely not.

His stubbornness was unmatched on the continent.

Could that stubbornness be broken?

Not a chance.

Rem reached a swift conclusion and responded.

"Alright. Let's go."

They set off again.

After discovering the three giants, Rem began searching for signs of a village.

"Damn it. What even is this?" Rem muttered.

Torn tents, a pot with holes rolling on the ground, and scattered slabs of stone-like objects came into view.

There were barely any bloodstains, and the smell of blood was almost nonexistent.

The site, once a village, was on slightly elevated terrain, like a low hill.

At its center, the remnants of a large bonfire could be seen—a burned-down homestead.

Nearby lay charred pieces of tents, scraps of leather, and bundles of dried wood.

In the middle of it all was a massive cauldron.

Beside the cauldron were several bones unmistakably human in origin.

Rem's expression hardened more than ever before.

He scooped some dirt with his hand, sniffed it, and surveyed the area.

"There's not much to go on here," he concluded.

There were no shattered barricades, broken bows, or spear shafts.

For a battlefield, the traces were too faint.

That was Rem's assessment.

Too many unanswered questions, but nothing conclusive.

Looking at the remains of wooden palisades imbued with some special sap, Rem spoke.

"There used to be people I knew here. No, there should have been."

"And now, they're not," Enkrid said while inspecting the ground.

Beyond the three giants, no other signs were apparent.

Then, what did the prophecy the giants mentioned signify?

"Exactly. And those three giants—something about them feels off. Their blood feels wrong, and the lack of monsters nearby is strange too," Rem muttered, folding his arms and leaving his axe behind for a moment.

It didn't make sense.

This was the west, after all.

Monsters were supposed to be abundant here.

From sandworms to creatures that mimicked human voices with white fur, and even rat-men—these were commonplace, Rem had said.

In contrast, due to the arid climate, creatures like lizard-men or crocodiles were rare.

They even spotted a few wild velocaptors along the way—short-snouted creatures with scaly bodies, small forelimbs, and long hind legs.

Watching them run, they were almost as fast as horses.

But taming such creatures seemed doubtful.

Even so, in the west, there were some who reportedly rode them, which meant taming them was possible somehow.

"Let's move on," Rem said, brushing off his hands.

A giant attacking a village—while possible, the people here wouldn't have been defeated so easily.

This meant there was something Rem didn't yet understand.

He took a step forward, and the group moved again.

Though one village lay deserted, the paths Rem remembered hadn't changed.

The roads were the same.

Walking, Enkrid tilted his head upward for a moment, watching the clouds seemingly rush by.

He had heard that in this region, rain would either pour like a deluge or be almost nonexistent.

On a day like today, with this dry atmosphere, rain seemed unimaginable.

The air was coarse, almost scratchy.

From his experience, Enkrid couldn't detect the faintest scent of rain.

Luagarne, following behind him, spoke up.

"It's so dry."

Though this was ideal weather for travel, it was likely uncomfortable for her.

She kept sipping from her water supply.

"Drink as much as you need. We'll reach our destination by nightfall," Rem said.

Luagarne nodded.

Occasionally, winds laden with yellow dust would blow through, followed by refreshingly clean breezes.

As they continued, Rem spoke.

"People here don't like change much," he remarked, surveying his surroundings.

It looked like he was searching for signs of giants again, but he was merely navigating.

Landmarks like ridges, boulders, or large trees were his guide—unchanging markers amidst the transient.

Even under storms, these stood unmoved, a majestic and grand sight.

For someone living here, they'd be but a speck against the vastness.

The ochre-colored land had patches of grass here and there, alongside stretches of gray, stony terrain.

There were chunks of sandstone, shaped and weathered by time.

However, these were poor as landmarks.

Admiring the surroundings, Enkrid asked,

"What do you mean by that?"

"There are wars, infighting among us, sure. But ultimately, we resist significant change. Whether we wander this land, fight, or die in struggle, that's all there is to it. People here live believing it's all fate," Rem explained, his tone calm.

Enkrid noticed this was how Rem spoke when discussing something he truly detested.

Whether or not Rem was aware of this, Enkrid could tell.

For example, when scolding someone like Jaxen or Ragna, Rem would raise his voice, which was fine—it showed he was moderately angry.

But speaking softly while gripping his axe? That was a warning sign.

Recently, Ragna had given Rem a good beating, so this calm tone had been more common.

"I don't see what's fun about that," Rem said.

Without hesitation, Enkrid replied, his words light but meaningful.

"Why should you care?"

Rem's steps halted.

"True enough," he muttered, resuming his stride.

Was there a correct way to live? Even if everyone said so, did that make it true?

Should life have a definitive answer?

No.

If there's something you desire, shouldn't you strive for it and seize it?

That was Enkrid.

Rem wasn't much different. That's why he had left the west.

To claim his life.

For enjoyment.

To move forward.

He didn't want to become a weathered sandstone lump, eroded by the west's winds.

He acknowledged his past of evading responsibility and obligation.

Acknowledging it allowed him to move forward.

It defined his current path.

It was all about the heart, the mood, and the will.

When learning spells, he had moments of realization. Now, it felt the same.

"Let's walk through the night. Anyone tired… just lower your hands before I break them you stupid beast," Rem said.

"I just raised them. My armpits were itchy," Dunbakel grumbled.

She was an indifferent beast-woman, bothered only by the sight of vast lands.

Perhaps it reminded her of the plains her kind lived on.

"Try washing up once in a while," Rem quipped at her.

"There aren't many beastkin as good at washing as I am."

Dunbakel responded confidently.

Naturally, Enkrid didn't believe her.

Neither did Rem nor Luagarne.

"If you're tired, get on my back," Rem said nonchalantly, striding ahead.

They moved through the plains, which resembled a barren wilderness, crossing dirt paths and short grassy patches. To their left loomed a ridge filled with sparsely perforated rocks. It seemed like an ancient volcanic zone, as the faint geothermal heat emanating from the basalt gave the impression of the land being crushed under its weight.

'From afar, it looks like a lava giant stomped here.'

With his honed senses and keen observation, a result of rigorous training and sensory techniques, Enkrid deduced the shapes of the rocks and the sunken basin.

The group walked through the night. Along the way, a few monsters appeared—a pack of Ratmen.

These rodent-headed monsters with long claws were quickly sliced apart by Dunbakel's curved blade.

"My turn!" she exclaimed, deftly dodging aside after each swing to avoid being splattered with monster blood. It was a classic hit-and-run tactic, and she managed to slay the creatures without a single drop staining her.

Dunbakel's skills had improved significantly. Enkrid could see that.

What if she faced the giant from earlier?

He had been confident he could handle it, but…

'Dunbakel would win. Her chances are far better.'

Of course, in actual combat, "chances of victory" are always tenuous. Regular training increases survival odds but guarantees nothing.

'Am I overestimating Dunbakel's abilities?'

Should he push her further to motivate her? She seemed indifferent. Perhaps she had changed after receiving praise in their last battle.

'Not my concern.'

It wasn't Enkrid's job to worry about her path—Dunbakel would find her own way forward.

"The hyenas or vultures will deal with the corpses," Rem remarked, surveying the slain monsters before resuming his stride.

As they proceeded, jagged, blade-like rocks surrounded them—sharp, formidable natural barriers.

On their right, patches of short grass dotted the terrain.

A few sheep grazed there, leisurely nibbling at the ground.

'Sheep?'

Here? And there were cattle too.

Amidst them, a few people appeared.

After walking all night, dawn was breaking.

The interplay of sunlight, clouds, and the characteristic light, dry western air illuminated the landscape.

The land, predominantly gray and ochre, glowed warmly under the sunlight.

The absence of mist allowed for a clear view, revealing hues of light and dark brown, green grass, and a harmonious blend of gray and ochre with dashes of green.

Four people stood gathered among the livestock, one of whom stepped forward.

Instead of showing wariness, the figure glanced at the group and approached without hesitation.

"When I read the clouds, they didn't say enemies were coming," said a tall, broad-shouldered individual in a surprisingly light voice.

The person wore a suit of fur-covered armor—not for warmth, but as if the fur itself was part of the armor's design.

Their hair, bright brown, was braided and hung down their back.

Their footsteps were nearly silent, as if something padded their boots.

Enkrid noticed this detail immediately—perhaps a hunter, judging by their attire.

The newcomer's gaze swept over the group, lingering briefly on each member, assessing them.

It felt like an odd mixture of scrutiny and wariness, coupled with an almost imperceptible intensity.

'Like flowing lava.'

Though slow on the surface, one wrong move would ignite it, consuming everything in its path.

This was someone whose searing anger had been carefully restrained.

The gaze moved from Enkrid to Dunbakel, then Luagarne.

It didn't linger longer on Enkrid despite his sharp features, which were usually pleasing to the eye, even if dirtied by travel.

The person seemed utterly uninterested and turned their attention elsewhere.

"Which side are you on?"

The question was abrupt.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rem replied, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant.

Rem?

Hesitant?

The sight was surprising, not because they seemed familiar, but because Rem appeared unnerved.

Enkrid glanced around, wondering if this was a ferryman's dream—a vision shown by some phantom guide.

There was no ferryman, no mirage, only reality.

His senses confirmed it.

"You ran away from home. Why?"

The broad-shouldered woman asked again.

Rem didn't answer immediately.

As Enkrid observed the two, instincts kicked in.

His mind began piecing together reasons and conclusions.

'Do we really have to go together?'

'Couldn't he go alone?'

'Why take the longer, more dangerous route?'

The hesitation in Rem's movements.

'If we go now, we might die. No—I know we will.'

Why Rem adamantly refused to leave while injured, why he seemed unusually reluctant about retrieving what he had left behind—all of it was now clear.

"Hey, you bastard, speak up already!" The western warrior fiddled with the axe at her waist.

She was Rem's wife.

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