Chapter 103 - Is This Love?

Chapter 103 - Is This Love?

"Could it be that the goddess of luck has cursed me?"

Starting another day, Enkrid glanced up at the sky.

The blue moon filled his gaze.

It was still before dawn.

Having woken early, he could still see the moon he'd seen before going to bed.

The moon shone exceptionally brightly.

"Come to think of it, doesn't it seem that way?"

Though the ferryman in his dreams spoke of walls and such, the outcome was always the same—he ended up dying miserably.

Even this time was no exception.

He had tried countless times to exploit openings in the encirclement, yet his luck had been staggeringly awful each time.

For instance, when he aimed for a gap and struck a pikeman's foot to create an opening, a pile of dirt suddenly collapsed from above.

Why did the ceiling have to collapse at that precise moment?

And why did the falling dirt have to get into his eyes?

It wasn't just that time.

When he dashed along the ramparts, targeting the mage, a section of the previously sturdy wall crumbled beneath his footing.

Similar streaks of bad luck had followed him.

There was even a case where, being a variant, the werewolf's heart was on the opposite side.

Another time, while taking a breather against a tree, it turned out to be rotted and failed to support his weight, throwing him off balance.

His streak of misfortune wasn't a one-time event.

From lacking innate talent to all these minor tragedies, wasn't it all part of his ill-fated destiny?

"Are you seriously playing tricks on me, Goddess?"

Still, he felt like asking, though he didn't expect an answer.

He wasn't really looking for one; it was simply a way to remember today as a fresh start.

And so, today began with a greeting to the goddess.

He stood up and began training his body using the Isolation Technique.

It involved bending one knee close to the ground while lowering his stance, walking in a controlled manner.

While he was fully absorbed in training, others began stirring awake and moving around.

Enkrid approached one of the scouts and spoke.

"Could you make something like this? I need it as a secret stash pouch."

He explained further.

It was a cloth pouch he wanted attached inside his sleeve.

He also mentioned it would be great if it stayed secure.

Since they had time to make hams and other supplies, he figured this wasn't asking too much.

With their tools already at hand, gathering materials wouldn't be necessary.

"Huh? Well, I can do it quickly. But don't you need to leave this morning?"

"It'd be nice if you could make it before then."

Blinking a few times, the scout nodded in agreement.

"Alright, I'll do it. Hey, cover my shift for a bit."

The scout laughed heartily, accepting the task.

Enkrid thanked him with a pat on the shoulder before continuing his training.

By the time he finished, Finn approached him.

"What, planning to put on a show for us this early?"

She commented as he swung his sword, shirtless.

"Can you use a crossbow?"

"Is that even a question? It's one of a ranger's basic skills."

Knowing she'd ask why he was even asking, Enkrid preemptively answered.

"I was just curious."

"…I don't know what to say to that."

"By the way, what do you line your boots with to make your footsteps so silent?"

"Oh, this?" Finn raised her left hand, pointing to her ear as she explained.

"There are a lot of sensitive beasts around here, so I layer fabric on the soles and stuff cotton inside the boots."

Of course, he wasn't asking out of ignorance.

"That sounds useful. I'd like to do the same to my boots."

"It's not difficult."

"Torres?"

"You want me to do it too?"

"There are lots of beasts around, apparently."

"Not that I'll run into any…"

Though Torres added this remark, he didn't object.

The two began modifying Enkrid's boots.

"These boots are really well-made. You can tell they were crafted with care."

"Really?"

One of them inspected Enkrid's boots as they worked.

It was a gift from the shoemaker he'd met through a body-obsessed artisan mage from the sewers.

Adding fabric to the soles and stuffing the interior with cotton didn't take long.

With training complete and the boots modified for silence, Enkrid received the pouch he'd requested earlier.

It was designed to slip into his sleeve and tighten with a drawstring, making it invisible when worn.

The stitching was meticulous, far surpassing that of the alcohol-loving squad leader.

Naturally, Enkrid had asked this scout knowing they were skilled; he had tried everyone else before.

When Finn had tried once, it had been a disaster.

She'd created something so misshapen it couldn't even hold a finger inside.

It had, of course, been unusable.

"Ha, it's been a while since I did any sewing," she'd said.

That, too, had been a rough start to the day.

As Enkrid reflected on that memory, Finn came over and gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

"Let's go."

Breakfast was done, and preparations were complete.

Once again, they were heading for the crawlspace.

"The seventy-ninth time,"

Enkrid silently counted the number of repeated days as he walked briskly.

Having traveled this path countless times, there was no hesitation in his steps.

Finn occasionally glanced back at him, tilting her head as if puzzled before asking.

"Did you spend a lot of time in the scouts?"

"Me?"

"No, not you."

Torres responded but then shifted his gaze to Enkrid.

"No, I didn't," Enkrid answered while walking.

"Really?"

Torres couldn't guess the reason for Finn's question, but Enkrid knew perfectly well.

If pressed, she'd say, "Your walk is like a ranger's."

That was because, after following Finn around for so long, he'd started mimicking her silent footsteps—steps aided by the cloth lining her boots.

As they walked quietly along the dirt path, where occasional blades of grass poked through, Enkrid broke the silence with a question.

"What if there's an enemy waiting at the tunnel?"

It was a sudden question but a reasonable one.

"We fight," Torres replied first, kicking a pebble near his foot.

The small stone bounced off a flat, clay-colored rock with a faint clink.

Enkrid closely watched where the pebble struck and listened intently.

"There's a low chance of that happening, but if it does, we run," Finn answered as if she'd been waiting to.

"Understood."

The conversation continued as Enkrid and his companions arrived at a thicket-covered embankment.

"Then what if the retreat route gets blocked?" Enkrid asked again.

Torres, about to step onto the slope, gave him a questioning look as if to ask, What's with this guy?

The mission was simple: enter the area, check on the status of the cat planted by the allies, and retreat if things got dicey.

Why was Enkrid raising doubts before anything even started?

"We're trying to make sure that doesn't happen," Finn replied, her tone stiffening after hearing a second similar question.

"How high or wide is this tunnel?" Enkrid continued.

"Huh?"

"If we're blocked from both sides, is there another way out?"

They hadn't even walked a few steps on the embankment when the questions came pouring in.

What's with this guy?

Torres tilted his head in confusion.

This wasn't like Enkrid, who had been silently following along until now.

Why the sudden change?

It wasn't fear.

If he were the type to be scared of crawling into a tunnel, he wouldn't have charged headlong into a pack of human-faced hounds.

He wouldn't have swung his sword against harpies attacking from above either.

"What? You got a bad feeling or something?" Torres asked.

He didn't believe in superstition, but he respected Enkrid's instincts—those uncanny senses that people like him sometimes had.

"No, not really," Enkrid replied nonchalantly.

They had to go in regardless, and saying he had a bad feeling wouldn't change the plan.

Finn glanced back at him, her expression hard to read.

"Got something to say?"

"I'm just wondering what to do if we run into enemies."

Finn tilted her head slightly, then straightened it. Something about this exchange felt off, but she couldn't pinpoint why.

"Listen," she began, explaining as much to herself as to Enkrid. "This tunnel is a main route for black-market dealers. It's not really a path for spies, which makes it one of the safest options right now."

Torres nodded in agreement.

He wasn't a ranger, but he'd been on all kinds of missions before.

Safe enough, he thought.

Enkrid nodded as well, following them into the sloping tunnel. He had barely taken three or four steps inside when he spoke again.

"What if armed soldiers are waiting up ahead? Are we as good as dead?"

"Oh, for f—" Finn swore under her breath, unable to hold it in anymore.

No matter how calm she tried to stay, this was still the path into enemy territory.

Why was he saying such things now?

"If you don't want to do this, then back out," she snapped, her temper flaring.

But Enkrid simply shook his head. "That's not it."

"What's his deal?" she muttered, throwing an irritated glance at Torres.

Good advice only works when given once or twice, but Enkrid kept pushing the same line of questioning, and it was getting under her skin.

"Let's go," Enkrid said suddenly, stepping ahead as if to lead.

Finn opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped when both she and Torres felt a sudden shift.

Without meaning to, their gazes locked onto Enkrid.

Why?

There was a weight to him now—a heavy presence emanating from him.

Both Finn and Torres were skilled fighters, yet they couldn't ignore the aura surrounding Enkrid.

"Just," he began, his voice calm and deliberate.

"Be careful."

Finn swallowed hard, her irritation fading in an instant.

What is this guy?

He'd been annoying just moments ago, but now he somehow seemed... impressive.

Her rising anger disappeared like smoke.

Is this love?

Her team often teased her for falling in love at the drop of a hat, though it never affected her work.

At least that was something.

Love is love, men are men, and work is work.

Finn admitted to herself that she felt less annoyed now.

She also acknowledged that their situation wasn't as dire as it could have been.

The cat's capture wouldn't necessarily expose them, and while entering the city was dangerous, she was confident they could escape.

They'd been saving this particular route for such an occasion, after all.

"Fine," she conceded, shifting her stance to move more cautiously.

Torres followed suit.

Though he cast another curious glance at Enkrid, he eventually said, "Of course we'll be careful."

That should do it.

Enkrid could tell their attitudes had shifted.

His earlier words hadn't been pointless.

Neither was the presence he'd exuded.

To survive what lay ahead, every advantage mattered.

The enemies waiting for them—elite soldiers armed with spears, shields, and archers covering the rear—numbered over forty.

This wasn't a situation where mistakes could be tolerated.

That's why he did it.

To ensure no one let their guard down.

The cautiousness of an ordinary soldier was different from that of a ranger.

"This is odd," Finn murmured, keeping her head low as they walked.

She moved with the precision of someone who could outpace both pathfinders and hunters.

"Footprints... something's strange about them," she said, confirming exactly what Enkrid had hoped she would notice.

Their opponents had erased their tracks, but no one could completely escape the watchful eyes of a ranger actively searching for traces.

Enkrid had no intention of facing them head-on.

He'd learned through countless battles that brute force wasn't always the answer.

"The back feels exposed," Finn commented.

The moment she finished her sentence, Enkrid delivered his next line, one he'd prepared in advance.

No exceptional acting skills were needed—he'd done this many times before.

"If that's the case, we should secure an escape route," he said.

In other words, they'd head back to clear the way behind them—right where the enemy's archers were likely stationed.

Of course, Torres and Finn didn't know that yet.

Their eyes turned to him.

"What if someone's already blocking the retreat...?"

There was no need to finish the sentence.

"Got it. Let's go," Finn said.

"This feels like a bad omen," Torres muttered as they turned around.