The sheer size of the Minotaur, a fusion of physical mass and intangible aura, felt unimaginably vast.

Most of the Demon Realm's residents dropped to their knees, murmuring "Black Sun, Black Sun" as they chanted the demon god’s title.

And yet, strangely enough, the human—half the size of that horned monster—appeared just as large in their eyes. No... maybe even a little larger than the bull-headed creature.

At a glance, it looked like he would be sent flying, spewing out everything inside him—intestines, blood, all of it.

But he wasn't.

Clang!

A tremendous roar exploded. The scream of colliding metal turned into a shockwave that rippled outward.

After exchanging a single blow, Enkrid instantly understood.

"This thing fights on a knight’s level."

Why couldn't the Demon Realm be destroyed? The answer was obvious, almost insultingly so. Because they lacked strength.

Even with Will awakened, there were monsters inside that realm too powerful for a human to endure.

And this dual-wielding Minotaur was one of those.

After the initial exchange, the monster and the man widened the distance between them. The bipedal bull backed away, dragging its right hoof.

Enkrid lifted his sword diagonally, covering his face. A brief standoff followed.

Everyone knew the fight would resume soon.

Sunlight spilled over the violet-drenched land. The sun disappearing behind the ridge soon summoned the darkness.

A damp warmth clung to the air like they’d spent the day in a swamp. The humidity was high. It was summer—and this area, commonly known as the Demon Realm’s borderland, carried a particularly foul atmosphere.

“...Shouldn’t we help?”

Roman asked from behind. Just seeing the creature had made his skin crawl, his body bristle.

It felt like something far superior to the gray forest monsters they had faced in the city of Oara. Even more so than that ghoul, Jericks.

At the Minotaur’s roar, he had felt some of his autonomy stolen, as though his body no longer moved freely. Had it been him standing there, he would’ve died—no need to think twice.

A monster.

They had to help right now. Leaving him alone against it wasn’t right. That was the thought behind Roman’s words.

“Leave him. You’ll just get in the way.”

Rem replied without even turning to look. But his eyes hadn’t left the two still fighting.

The others were the same.

The holy knight who used divinity.

The terrifying swordsman you didn't want to look at.

Even the one whose presence was so faint it was hard to detect.

The fairies and the rest—they all simply watched.

Roman quickly realized that what was in their eyes wasn’t concern or worry.

Why?

Why?

Frokk, standing next to him, puffed out his cheeks as he drew closer. The gesture meant anticipation, joy, thrill—but Roman had a hard time reading Frokk’s expressions.

Frokk had no comrades or friends. There weren’t many of his kind to begin with, and they rarely acted under the influence of others.

Roman wasn’t familiar with fairies either. They were a rare sight in the city of Oara.

They looked just as strange to him.

As far as he knew, fairies were known for rarely showing emotion. Yet even now, fragments of it appeared in their eyes.

No doubt—it was excitement.

So were Pell and Rophod.

So were Pell and Rophod.

Their palms weren’t sweating, but they opened and closed their fists, shifting their toes as they watched—as if imagining themselves in Enkrid’s place.

Their movements said it clearly:

There is no defeat.

Their actions, their posture, all conveyed that.

If things went south, anyone among them was ready to jump in. They were prepared to act the moment Enkrid was in danger.

But beyond that, something else ran underneath.

A shared anticipation—for whatever that man was about to show them.

That atmosphere naturally reached Roman too.

Just what is he...

Just what is he...

The fact that he had become a knight was already astounding, but to receive such unwavering trust from others?

Is this something I should be learning too?

Knight Oara had always shown him her back.

Even at the brink of death, she revealed her values, her life as a knight.

She never once broke the vows she made as a knight. She smiled as she left.

Roman remembered Oara’s final battle—when she gave her life fighting the fragment of Balrog.

And now, Enkrid overlapped with ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) her.

“...Oa.”

Roman murmured.

Once more, Enkrid’s Duskforge met the Minotaur’s blades.

BOOM!

A roar shook the air—like a landslide, like a massive boulder crashing down. Dust rose from the ground as the violet soil scattered in all directions.

Roman’s eyes caught a tremor in Enkrid’s sword.

That tremble became a ripple, drawing out invisible Will and embedding it into the blade.

In the very center of the Demon Realm’s land, where moonlight couldn’t reach, light shimmered along the sword’s edge. It burst, it exploded, painting a thousand images onto the canvas of darkness.

Roman couldn’t see all the sword’s movements—but even so, his heart swelled.

***

"You could die at any time."

Seeing the horned swordsman’s skill only made the saying clearer in his mind.

He had heard it long before he became a knight. That if you choose to live by the sword, you must never forget the possibility of being struck down by a blind blade.

MUUUUGHHH!

The bull’s scream—cut off mid-roar—was an attack in itself. Like pressure, a wild bloodlust took form and tried to crush Enkrid’s body.

Enkrid ignored the ki-shout with the surging force of Will, and as the beast twisted its waist, it swung.

The flying sword strike was heavy and fast. A move Ragna often displayed—strong and swift. It was Wavebreaker, and having calculated its motion, Enkrid blocked it with Duskforge and twisted his body to the side.

His waist pivoted on his left foot, and he deflected the blow using the force on the blade.

As the blades met, a faint sound echoed.

Ti-di-di-ding.

Wavebreaker was a perfect match for the Blade of Coincidence.

No—ultimately, every sword style could be made to harmonize.

That had been Enkrid’s conclusion for some time now.

The bull wielded two swords. The moment its first strike was blocked by Duskforge, the second blade came down.

The second sword, enhanced by Will, was so fast that even Enkrid’s knightly vision struggled to follow it.

It slashed through the space Enkrid had occupied just seconds before. Had he not shifted his body during the first parry, he wouldn't have been able to dodge it.

The sword's path left a clear afterimage in the air—like a watercolor bleeding through water.

Delicate, intricate lines blurred and scattered.

And Enkrid became one of those blurred lines himself—swinging his sword.

At the same time, his thoughts split apart. The fragments revisited his past.

Don’t lower your guard. Don’t lose focus. Stay aware. Don’t let your body stiffen. Permit yourself everything necessary to win.

Keep your body and mind flexible. Deliberate actions are stiff; unconscious ones are fluid. Repeat and repeat until it becomes instinct. Today’s practice shapes tomorrow’s you.

Everything he had learned rushed through his mind.

In that moment, Enkrid understood exactly what he needed to do.

It was what Oara had shown him once. What Ragna had also demonstrated.

He, too, had accomplished it once before.

Light gathered on the blade. The formless force became a visible shape.

Using the principle of a vortex, he struck the incoming blade. His waist twisted off his left foot, and the dragon of light erupted—cleaving the bull’s head apart.

Enkrid pulled Duskforge back with the same force as the upswing.

KRKRKRKRAKKK!

The monster’s thick cervical bones caught on the blade, tearing through muscle and skin as they were dragged out.

THUD.

The monster, resisting the pull, dropped one knee to the ground first.

Enkrid stepped back and shook his sword clean.

Black blood sprayed across the ground. The beast, missing its head and part of its spine, wobbled like a pendulum—then collapsed.

THUUD—

Its enormous body crashed down with a tremendous noise, splitting through the silence that had settled over the area.

As the monster fell, black blood gushed between the torn meat and split skull.

Enkrid stared indifferently at the corpse and thought:

If the applied techniques of Will can be systematized, then they can be taught. And if they can be taught, they can be learned.

He reviewed the mental process he had just walked through.

The beginning lies in drawing unconscious Will back into conscious awareness.

Ultimately, Will should manifest into physical form—either through the body or the weapon.

Just like Enkrid had demonstrated.

But handling Will alone isn’t enough.

Without fundamental swordsmanship and relentless training, it’s an unreachable path. Proper methods and physical discipline can’t be skipped.

Without extraordinary effort, the embodiment of Will is nothing but a fantasy.

He was slow to learn. A dullard who needed to test every path step by step. But that lack of talent had given him something new.

Observation. Reflection. From that came the knowledge to form something new.

The fight had been neither long nor short.

Lua Gharne was beyond thrilled—she splayed her four fingers flat over her breastplate. Frokk’s “thing” shook wildly.

Gurrrrrrr.

His cheeks puffed out on their own, releasing the overwhelming sensation he had received.

Without realizing it, Pell half-drew the Idol Slayer.

I want to fight.

If someone asked why, he’d probably ask if a reason was even necessary.

Reasons didn’t matter. He just wanted to fight. To clash blades with that man named Enkrid, who had just shown something unimaginable.

“Hold it. It’s not your turn for a while.”

Pell suddenly felt the presence of the barbarian behind him.

How to describe it...

Rough. Brutal. Like shoving your head into a lion’s mouth. That was the aura the barbarian gave off.

“O Lord Father...”

Audin whispered a prayer, and from his back, a faint form began to rise.

Divine energy surged and took shape.

He wasn’t the only one stirred by desire.

Ragna, gripping Sunrise, asked:

“Can you use it however you want?”

It wasn’t a question of possibility. It was a question of confirmation—about the embodiment of Will.

“Yeah.”

Enkrid answered simply and began wiping the blade of Duskforge.

Shinar stepped forward beside him.

“You’re nothing like the person I first saw.”

Even her words carried a tone of awe.

“Anytime...”

Rophod muttered. If Pell had been consumed by desire, Rophod realized plainly that he couldn’t stand as an opponent just yet.

But he wouldn't be swallowed by despair or hopelessness.

Most of those present knew the road Enkrid had walked—starting as a bottom-ranked soldier even within Naurillia’s classification system.

Even being generous, his path had been nothing short of a thorn-filled one.

He had moved his body to the limit. Sweat flowed freely. As his mind cleared and he looked around, he saw the corrupted ones staring wide-eyed in disbelief.

The Ferryman asked:

Was protecting them the right thing to do? Or should they all be killed?

People slowly being transformed under the demon’s influence.

But nothing irreversible had happened yet. If they could break free of the demon’s hold, perhaps even their violet skin would return to normal.

If anyone could treat the Demon Realm's corrupted...

Anne would be ecstatic.

Her dream was to create an elixir that could cure every disease in the world. Her eyes always blazed when discovering a new ailment.

Watching her from the side, one couldn’t help but think that Anne, too, was worthy of being called a madwoman.

Enkrid expected neither repentance nor remorse from these people.

He didn’t believe it was right to blame those who were bound here by their ancestors' choices.

Many thoughts passed through his mind, but only one remained clear.

Can they be saved?

He would try to answer that question.

Even if he failed, he wouldn't fall into despair. He would still try.

Even if it was a futile struggle, a desperate thrash—that attempt alone had meaning.

Standing at a crossroads where only two paths were offered, Enkrid chose a third.

He walked firmly toward the center of the village. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

There stood a symbol carved in the image of the Black Sun.

All eyes turned to him.

He was the one who had just slain the demon god’s cleaner.

No one could say a word. No one could step forward. They only stared in shock.

Enkrid looked indifferently at the demon’s symbol.

If it’s the object of worship that twists both mind and body...

Then just change that object.

With a swoosh, Duskforge slashed through the symbol of the demon god.

The round wooden plaque depicting the Black Sun dropped to the ground.

It was only a carving, after all.

“Uuhh...”

Several villagers let out cries like screams—but what had been done could not be undone.

Enkrid had cut down the demon’s symbol.

“Audin. Let’s deal with the artifact we buried.”

“...As you say.”

They decided to burn the demon’s implanted artifact with holy power.

This village now stood at the brink.

The residents, finally recognizing the horrifying truth, stared at Enkrid in stunned silence.

“...What are you planning to do?”

Pell asked in passing.

Cutting that symbol—it was obvious what would happen next. Was he planning to use monsters to kill the villagers he didn’t want to kill himself?

The Shepherds of the Wasteland were a group that despised monsters. To use them for manipulation?

If that were the case, he would consider leaving immediately. No question.

A group that used monsters to kill humans?

And then Enkrid said something no one expected.

“From now on, this land belongs to me. I’ll make it part of the Border Guard’s domain.”

He was shifting the focus of worship.

If the problem was them serving a demon—then he would become the symbol of this land himself.

No ordinary person could think of such a thing.

Rem tilted his head. Even after seeing so many of Enkrid’s insane actions, this one was on another scale entirely.

Did he really just say that? Make it a Border Guard domain? This place?

It wasn’t deep in the Demon Realm... but it wasn’t exactly outside it either.

“...So you’re saying, instead of worshipping the demon, they should worship the commander?”

Rem muttered, and Enkrid blinked.

Did he really need to interpret it that way?

“Well, I didn’t mean—”

He tried to clarify, but Audin’s voice spread around them like a wave.

“May the Lord watch over us.”

He honored the will of the one who led him, offering a serene smile.

“In place of the Lord Father, he shall become this land’s center.”

No, that’s not it at all, Enkrid wanted to say—but the words never came out.

All the panicked villagers were looking at him. Hundreds of eyes fixed on him.

Ragna wasn’t interested. Let them do as they pleased. It had nothing to do with him.

Whether they lived or died—Ragna didn’t care.

What mattered more was what Enkrid had just shown.

The village representative trembled, horrified that the sacred symbol had been cut.

But the deed was done. The demon’s idol had been severed, and his cleaner slain.

Zoraslav knelt, bowing his head.

To survive.

If Kraiss had seen this, he’d probably demand, “What the hell are you thinking?”

If Crang had seen it, he might’ve just stuck out his tongue.

If Enkrid wanted to play king here, they’d probably have offered up their own thrones in exasperation.

But regardless, Enkrid ignored the Ferryman’s intentions and declared himself the master of this village.

The important thing hadn’t changed.

If the problem was in protecting them—then just remove the problem itself.

“...Truly, my betrothed is a madman of a different class.”

Shinar’s voice echoed with admiration.

And everyone else silently agreed.