Chapter 470 - The Woman Rem
Chapter 470 - The Woman Rem
The braided hair swayed, unaffected by the wind.
It moved because the opponent had stirred.
A lone woman shone in rich brown hues within the gray world.
A sense of vibrant vitality radiated from her.
In other words, her movements as she unsheathed the axe from her waist seemed light and rhythmic, almost like a dance.
Then came the vertical chop of her axe.
Enkrid's gaze followed the trajectory of the axe swing.
"No hesitation."
While it wasn't a deep bloodlust, her intent to cleave something was evident.
Past the falling axe, splitting like chopping firewood, her piercing eyes traced a sharp line.
The axe sliced through the air with a singular purpose:
To split Rem's skull.
In the same moment, a few muttered words—perhaps a curse or exclamation—filled the air.
There was barely a half-breath to react, but naturally, Rem responded.
The axe in his hand rose to meet its counterpart in mid-air.
"Thud, krkkk!"
Luagarne and Dunbakel's eyes darted around.
The clash of axe blades had created a startling shift, drawing their gazes to the intense exchange.
Enkrid watched with relative composure, his sharp vision capturing every detail.
The two axes collided and recoiled apart, thanks to the subtle twist of Rem's wrist.
"Hmph!"
Rem's opponent snorted through her nose.
She yanked the recoiling axe back with brute strength.
Her forearm, tightly wrapped in leather straps, bulged as muscles swelled beneath, making the straps sink into her skin.
The axe leveled horizontally, now targeting Rem's jawline.
"Ayul."
Rem twisted his body slightly to evade, speaking as he moved. The woman called Ayul responded with her axe, pushing it forward in a straight thrust.
Rem caught it with his bare palm and redirected it to the side.
"That's Audin's technique."
Enkrid recognized it instantly.
What Rem had just demonstrated was a variant of a body-flowing technique.
But he had executed it barehanded.
Even though Enkrid might have been able to defeat Rem, replicating such fluid movements so effortlessly was beyond him.
It was a matter of talent—the natural ability to grasp a method and manifest it physically.
Of course, Enkrid could also deflect blades with his bare hands, but doing so on instinct, as Rem had, was another matter entirely.
What Rem had shown wasn't calculated; it stemmed from raw instinct.
Enkrid didn't feel particularly emotional about it.
There was no awe, just a note of interest in the technique's ingenuity. It seemed worth practicing later—a parry that blended striking and deflection.
"I've chosen my partner and sworn upon my axe not to spread my affections elsewhere."
Rem's tone was calm as he spoke. Ayul, whose axe had missed its mark, slowly sheathed her weapon at her waist and replied.
"Fine, let's leave it for now."
"A smelly beastkin, a Frog, and to top it off, one of them is a man."
Rem's words came again, this time a response to the implied accusation of infidelity.
The context of the conversation made the situation clear.
His explanation might have sounded like an excuse, but it was the truth.
"If testimony is needed, I'll provide it."
Enkrid interjected, a declaration of camaraderie born from their shared battles.
"I don't know who you are, but stay out of it unless you want a new ornament on your skull."
Enkrid chose to respect her stance.
Dunbakel, meanwhile, stifled the urge to clarify that Rem wasn't her type.
The woman before them didn't seem like one to make idle threats.
Luagarne watched the unfolding events with curiosity.
"A female Rem, indeed," she thought.
Dunbakel had a similar impression.
"Two crude axes."
Enkrid, too, came to the same conclusion.
"A woman Rem."
Ayul rested her hand on her axe and gazed at Rem.
Her eyes carried a heavy, silent menace.
"We'll talk later."
Rem's expression darkened slightly.
"Fine."
In life, there were unavoidable obligations.
For example, a husband who had left home owed his waiting wife an explanation upon return.
As Ayul's fury subsided, a few other westerners approached, seemingly unbothered by the earlier tension.
They likely knew Rem well.
Among them was a man with patterns etched on his face, like spikes drawn with dye.
"This is unbelievable. Grimek would weep."
He seemed genuinely shocked.
Grimek referred to a mythical beast living in shadowy forms, a figure from Western legends.
Enkrid regarded the man with a habitual gaze of scrutiny, a reflex born from his early sword training.
"Take everything in and analyze it."
The man's complexion was dark, likely sun-tanned, as hints of reddish skin peeked through near the boundaries of his hands and sleeves.
His face had pronounced cheekbones, narrow eyes, yet carried a gentle appearance, making him seem more amiable than sinister.
In contrast, Ayul was equally striking—her beauty fell into the category of undeniable allure. From behind, Luagarne's muffled sounds of fascination could be heard; Frogs were known to appreciate human attractiveness.
Rem, however, bore a more continental appearance, distinct from the Westerners.
This revealed something about his origins, a secret subtly hinted at in the difference.
"Hey, it's been a while."
Rem sheathed his axe and raised a hand in greeting.
"I nearly lost count of how many Danubaks passed."
"Six."
Ayul corrected him from behind, and the man nodded.
"Yeah, it's been a long time. What have you been up to?"
"Traveling at first, then serving in armies, fighting recently. Now I'm back to retrieve something."
While some words were unclear, Enkrid pieced together the gist through context.
"What's he saying?"
Dunbakel tilted her head, unable to follow.
Luagarne, familiar with Western dialects, understood perfectly.
"Well, there's only one thing to say in times like these: welcome back, Rem."
One man spoke.
"Thought you were dead somewhere, but you made it back."
Ayul, too, blessed Rem's return in her own way.
Finally, the man with the spiked markings turned his attention to Enkrid.
"Are you one of Rem's companions?"
From three steps away, his gaze carried a subtle wariness.
"Should I acknowledge it or deny it? I'm still deciding. Can I delay my answer?"
Enkrid's response made the man chuckle, finding the humor to his liking.
"An interesting fellow. I'm Juol."
"Enkrid, from Border Guard."
"Enkrid? That's quite a long and hard-to-pronounce name."
Although the empire had spread a common language across the continent, subtle differences in accent were common. Juol's manner of speech reflected such nuances.
His comment about the difficulty of pronouncing Enkrid's name stemmed from the same reason, similar to how dialects arose over time.
"Is that so?"
Enkrid brushed it off casually. Rem, however, interjected.
"What's this about the village outside being attacked? We even ran into a giant on the way here."
It wasn't as if he'd forgotten—it was just that the conversation had only now circled back to it.
"That's a long story. Let's head to the Great Wings first. Ayul?"
Juol suggested, but Ayul simply stared at Rem with an unreadable expression.
The other Westerners merely stood by, observing.
Enkrid studied their dynamics, piecing together the relationships.
'The woman, Rem, seems to have the authority, while Juol might be something like a squad leader.'
He wasn't far off.
This group, tasked with grazing cows and sheep while keeping watch, regarded Ayul as their strongest fighter.
"Understood."
Rem's return stirred mixed emotions in Ayul, a blend of relief and frustration.
Regardless, it was a fortuitous event, seemingly blessed by the Sky God.
"We're heading to where the chief of the Great Wings resides," Juol declared.
The remaining Westerners whistled, herding their livestock. Using long staffs, they tapped the ground to align the animals and guide them, their skill something even the Shepherds of the Wilderness could learn from.
When Enkrid commented on this, Luagarne puffed her cheeks in amusement.
"Croak. That's not how wilderness shepherds do it. You'll see someday. Ask Fel about it when we're back."
"If we survive, I'll be sure to," Enkrid replied with a nod.
Though his conditional phrasing—"if we survive"—might seem unsettling, both Luagarne and Dunbakel took it in stride.
However, one of the Westerners walking beside them tilted his head, confused.
"If we survive?"
The young man seemed to wonder, "Who? Is this a Continental joke? A dialect thing?" Of course, it was neither.
As they walked, Rem sidled closer to Enkrid, whispering softly enough that Ayul, walking ahead, wouldn't hear.
"Man, I almost died back there."
"Wouldn't it have been better to just take a hit?"
Enkrid whispered back.
Perhaps letting himself get hit would have been easier.
"Hard to get hit when they're swinging like that," Rem muttered.
Enkrid agreed. It was tough to take a hit when someone was swinging an axe powerful enough to cleave off a limb.
"Rem? Is that the same Rem who ran away from home before?"
One of the Westerners, watching intently, asked.
"Yeah, that's me."
"Was it because of the Wanderer's Curse?"
"Who said that?"
"Ayul did."
"And who are you?"
"I'm Eire."
The young man had sunken cheeks but sharp eyes. His body, hardened by a controlled diet and relentless work, looked solid as a rock.
The way he tapped the ground with his long staff suggested he was no stranger to combat.
Though lacking visible aggression, his disciplined air didn't escape Enkrid's growing discernment.
He sized up Eire's abilities at a glance—a skill he had refined far beyond what either Rem or Ragna could manage.
'If we brought him to Border Guard, he'd be treated as a top-tier soldier.'
While Enkrid couldn't be sure how he'd fare in an actual fight, Eire's skill level was evident.
Of course, nothing was guaranteed in real combat.
That truth remained constant, whether he was a squire now or a low-ranking soldier in the past.
By comparison, Rem's abilities far surpassed Eire's.
From what Enkrid could tell, he hovered somewhere around the level of a Squire.
In response to Eire's question, Rem answered briefly.
"It's not like that."
Explaining her past would take too long, and it wasn't something a young man like him needed to hear.
"Hmph!"
Ayul, ahead, snorted. While she probably hadn't heard the whispered exchanges, she could clearly catch the rest of the conversation.
As they continued walking, patches of grassland appeared, scattered with Westerners herding livestock.
Spotting the group, the shepherds paused to watch, a few recognizing Rem.
Before long, an acrid smell wafted through the air.
It wasn't pleasant.
Enkrid glanced sideways to see Dunbakel twitching her nose.
If he could smell it, Dunbakel, with her keener senses, must have noticed it first.
"What does it smell like?" Enkrid asked.
"Seems like they're burning a mix of plants," Dunbakel replied.
Rem raised his head, also catching the scent.
In the distance, gray smoke rose into the sky.
"Something must've happened," Rem noted.
"You'll find out once we get there," Ayul responded curtly, her tone still heavy with irritation.
Will she ever let that go? Enkrid mused as they marched on.
A gentle hillside came into view, and beyond it lay an open clearing.
"It's been a while since we've had outsiders. Welcome, strangers who've crossed the boundary," Juol said.
The clearing was filled with tents—rounded, angular, and everything in between.
Counting them all would take ages, and the people matched in number, forming a community of several hundred.
It was, in essence, a Western city.
"In Continental terms, you'd call this Elder Bear—or something like that. We're descendants of the goddess who became a bear. At least, that's what the myths say."
Rem had explained this beforehand. Tales of giant-slaying bears, animals transforming into humans, and the first humans born of bears were abundant among the Western tribes.
Each tribe seemed to have its own version of these myths.
The sight of the Western city was just as she had described it.
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