The Eroded Ones—the residents of the Demon Realm—were terrified.

Judging from Zoraslav’s initial reaction when he stepped forward, there hadn’t been even a hint of fear. That was probably because he had expected Enkrid and his group to die completely.

Well, regardless of the reason, it would have been hard for them to expect that their entire way of life would be changed by a stranger who appeared out of nowhere.

Most likely, until now, all the villagers had treated any wanderers or adventurers who passed through with kindness.

Not because they had any reason to be especially nice, but simply because they had neither the strength nor the will to be otherwise.

And there was even less reason to resist when faced with a blade right in front of their noses.

Who knew what might happen if things went sideways—someone could just swing a sword.

What’s more, they knew that if left alone, the Cleaner would come and kill anyone who passed through.

But now, even the Cleaner was dead, the symbol of the Demon God had been severed, and the bodies of the monsters and demonic beasts that had gathered were buried and discarded by the villagers themselves.

In such circumstances, it was not easy to hear anything meaningful from the villagers.

Even the children were terrified, their faces on the verge of turning blue.

Though honestly, since their skin was naturally a pale violet hue, there could be some debate over whether it had turned blue or black from fear.

“Watch carefully—this is when someone with a kind face has to step up.”

Rem showed confidence as he faced the frightened villagers. He said all it took was a smile and gentle words. That level of optimism bordered on arrogance.

Ting.

Hearing that, Ragna pulled his sword out by about a finger’s length. The mention of a "kind face" must have stuck in his craw. It did for Enkrid, too.

Ragna looked at Enkrid.

Ragna looked at Enkrid.

It was a glance that seemed to ask, Isn’t it fine to cut down a guy who says something like that?

“The attempt’s not bad. Anyone can try.”

Even if not everyone here admitted it, Rem was undeniably handsome. His features were strong, and his aura unique—but that only made him more attractive in a rugged way.

But that didn’t mean he had a kind-looking face. Absolutely not.

“Sp- spare me... I have nothing to eat.”

A gaunt woman bowed her head as she spoke, clutching her child in her arms.

Rem’s mood soured instantly. Naturally, his expression began to harden. In place of a smile, a wrathful god’s presence settled over his face.

“Cannibalism? Killing bastards like that is my job, and now you want me to eat people?”

Rem was incensed, and Enkrid tried to calm him down. Ragna shook his head. Jaxon, unusually, let out a slight chuckle.

Rem flared up again at that, but Enkrid mostly pacified him and asked the question in his stead. Ironically, the villagers answered quite obediently.

Some of the women even blushed during the exchange, but Enkrid remained composed, simply asking and answering quietly at their side.

Even in fear, it was obvious some of them kept glancing at Enkrid’s face.

Well, that wasn’t the only reason.

Zoraslav, presumed to be the village leader, had started gently coaxing the people.

Strictly speaking, Enkrid had only stepped forward after seeing that.

Among them, the way they looked at Enkrid was strange, but there was no malice. Rather, there was an overwhelming sense of unilateral goodwill and admiration.

Well, regardless of the details, they were finally ready to talk.

“Discrimination?”

But Rem, still sulking, muttered that upon seeing it.

“Difference in appearance,” Jaxon corrected.

Thud!

Sparks flew between them. Rem swung his axe at Jaxon, who was standing three steps behind him, and Jaxon drew his stiletto, parrying it at a slant, producing a sharp clash.

Wasn’t it called the Sword of Coincidence? Jaxon naturally demonstrated the swordsmanship he had learned from Enkrid.

To be honest, he had learned the principle long ago and had trained it countless times.

The training had involved surrounding him with elite assassins and having him respond to random thrusts from all directions.

Now, he had reached the peak of mastery.

Rem glared at Jaxon, who had diverted his axe.

“Do you want to die for real?”

“There’s no way I’d die to you.”

Jaxon corrected Rem again, and the two began to argue more seriously.

Thud! Ting! Tadatadatang!

Sparks flew between them. Anyone who got close would be turned into minced meat. Pell and Rophod, watching the two, herded people away.

“This is normal. They’re always like this.”

Rophod said it nonchalantly to ease concerns, though it was only natural that some villagers looked even more horrified after seeing that.

Even so, they continued answering Enkrid’s questions without fail.

Lua Gharne, observing it all, was impressed.

“Truly worthy of the nickname ‘Demonic Charm.’”

Shinar chimed in.

“Indeed. A charm that even enchants fairies.”

They were clearly teasing him.

Enkrid let their words drift through one ear and out the other, calmly collecting information even in this absurd mess, and when evening came, he shared everything with the group.

“If you get too close, lightning strikes.”

“There’s a wizard who controls black lightning.”

“If you misstep inside, you’ll be trapped forever in a crystal prison and forced into labor—even your soul. You won’t be able to leave, not even in death.”

Those were the villagers’ accounts.

A series of eerie and frightening tales. At least, that’s how they seemed to the villagers.

To Enkrid, however, many parts sounded clumsy.

Forced into eternal labor? For people supposedly afraid of that, these villagers didn’t look like they were living easy lives to begin with.

This was an independent village just like any other—it wasn’t much different, was it? At least in terms of labor. Their lives clearly didn’t function without hard work either.

They had to cultivate land that barely yielded crops, and if any demon-tainted weeds sprouted in the fields, they would steal what little nutrients the crops had, so each one had to be pulled out by hand.

And those weeds didn’t exactly come out easily. If neglected even slightly, flowers that drank human blood would bloom. You had to find and kill them early, or it was a nightmare.

A few skilled hunters might occasionally catch usable animals or demonic beasts, but there was no regular trade partner.

In short, they were self-sufficient—and self-sufficiency required more labor than people expected.

They had to till the land, occasionally go out to hunt, repair and build things, preserve food, and so on. Every area required manpower and skill.

Without the skill, they had to make up for it with time and effort.

To produce what one needs for oneself—meant having to move one’s own body.

They must’ve developed certain techniques amidst all that.

From that perspective, one detail stood out: the leather they wore was uniformly well-maintained and finely crafted.

They had used demonic beast hides—tough, varied in size, difficult to work with—and had somehow refined them remarkably well.

Even villages on the border of the Demon Realm or near the Border Guard often used hides like this, but not as cleanly and practically as these folk—wearing them like tailored clothes.

Some wore them like vests, others had wide skirts. Seeing them flap in the wind, the material seemed thin, yet strong enough that a dull blade wouldn’t leave a mark.

He wasn’t a merchant, but Enkrid had spent years working as an escort—he knew how to judge fabric and leather at least that well.

And when it was this clearly excellent, even a fool could recognize the quality.

A demonic beast was caught and skinned, and the leather used.

Working with such hides wouldn’t have been easy. There must have been generations of accumulated knowledge in tanning.

That knowledge must’ve rapidly advanced their leathercraft.

They probably sold some of those leathers to the occasional traveler who lost their way or happened upon this place.

Even without regular trade partners, they must have encountered brave, adventurous peddlers from time to time.

Anyway, viewed from that angle, living here meant a life of labor all the same.

Their fingertips were blunt, but their nails had turned sharp and bluish. Regardless of skin color, their hands had been stained. Likely the result of using special fruits and herbs from the Demon Realm.

Of course, Enkrid couldn’t claim to know every detail of their lives. He was merely speculating based on what he observed.

And he didn’t say any of it out loud.

The villagers’ final tale was this:

“If you die in there, you have to wear a thorn shroud.”

That was more or less the entirety of the orally transmitted tales.

The rest all branched out from that.

“To sum up, there’s the black lightning, the crystal prison, and lastly, the thorn shroud.”

Rophod summarized the points Enkrid had laid out. Lua Gharne’s cheeks puffed up slightly and then deflated repeatedly.

The unknown—what they called “the mysterious”—always had a way of making Frokk’s heart race.

Of course, those who insist on exploring the unknown, fully aware that it will likely get them killed, are nothing more than fleas—creatures that can’t even control a single desire of their own.

Perhaps because he had let off steam by clashing with Jaxon earlier in the day, Rem, now a little calmer, asked:

“So what exactly is it?”

Just hearing all this, it was hard to make anything of it. Was there actually a wizard in there? Maybe yes, maybe no.

From Rem’s perspective, everything the villagers had passed on sounded like patchwork—rumors stitched together.

And where there were gaps in the story, they probably filled them in with imagination.

The only thing the residents of the Demon Realm truly knew for sure was that no one who entered ever came back out.

“Do you know what it is?”

Pell looked at Enkrid and asked.

They were settled in a moderately wide patch of ground tucked into the corner of the city. There wasn’t even a campfire, but the moonlight was bright that night.

The two moons cast their light down, drawing shadows across Enkrid’s face. Between them, his two blue eyes glimmered, their color still distinct even in the night.

Pell figured those eyes wouldn’t shine like that unless he was certain.

Before long, all eyes were on Enkrid. Were they all thinking the same thing? Did the Commander know something?

Enkrid silently lifted his gaze and looked toward the Demon Realm.

He would see something different from the rest of them—that’s what Rophod believed too.

The Commander is unlike us.

The moment he heard the words “entering the Demon Realm,” a natural resistance rose up within him—but watching Enkrid’s back slowly blurred that resistance.

And then Enkrid spoke.

“No.”

That was his answer to whether he knew anything. The moonlight carried that short silence between them.

“...You don’t?”

Pell asked again. Maybe he’d picked up Jaxon’s habit, because when flustered, Pell now tended to speak in shorter sentences.

“Yeah, I’ve got no clue.”

Enkrid was nonchalant.

What was there to know from hearsay alone?

Black lightning? If it’s real lightning, how are you supposed to block that? No, could you even react in time?

Half of it would come down to instinct anyway.

I should be able to block lightning, right?

That question was directed toward Duskforge. The sword didn’t reply. Of course it didn’t—it wasn’t a sentient blade.

But Duskforge was still etched with Enkrid’s Will. And in response to its master’s intent, the sword gave a faint tremble.

Woom—

That was its answer: Yes.

It was a quiet night.

Everyone heard the trembling of the blade.

And with that vibration, Enkrid looked at his companions and smiled like a boy in love.

More precisely, he smiled like a boy on the way to see his first love.

Enkrid’s voice brimmed with more anticipation than anyone else’s here—not even Lua Gharne came close.

“There’s one thing I do know. There are multiple colonies inside.”

“Inside?”

Ragna echoed, picking up the last word.

Even in this outer perimeter, there were multiple roaming monsters capable of devouring an entire colony in a single gulp.

There would be even more within.

“If we destroy them, the Demon Realm’s territory will shrink.”

No matter what was in there, he would fight it. Not knowing what would emerge from those fights only made it more thrilling.

His tone, his demeanor—everything showed it.

It could be called a manifestation of his fighting spirit, one equal to his desire for growth.

And if someone said he was half-mad, there would be no room to argue.

After all, this was the very reason he had taken up his sword—to fight against the unknown.

Training was enjoyable. But the moment you put that training into action? That was even better.

“Indeed.”

Pell finally voiced his admiration.

“You live up to the name Mad Order of Knights.”

Teresa nodded two or three times and added to the remark. Within her veins flowed the blood of a red-blooded demonic beast—a giant, to be exact.

That meant the instinct to fight was embedded deep in her nature.

Was she really supposed to suppress that? Was suppression the only solution?

“This should be fun.”

Teresa nodded once more in affirmation.

No one here was sane. Even if someone once was, they’d been contaminated by the madness now.

Everyone nodded in agreement with Teresa’s words.

Booowoooo—

An owl called out from somewhere far away.

But this wasn’t an ordinary owl. The moment they heard the cry, something deep inside recoiled instinctively.

And why not enjoy even that unpleasant sensation?

Enkrid’s smile said as much.

Even Roman found himself caught up in the mood. He was almost regretful that he couldn’t join them just yet.

The next day, the entire group entered the Demon Realm.

***

Between dense trees of a brownish-red hue—unlike anything of this world—there was a narrow path just wide enough for three or four people to walk.

That was the entrance to the Demon Realm.

Or more precisely, it was the only entrance known to its residents.

At dawn, as they watched the sun rise, the group stepped inside.

“The air is thick. Oppressively thick.”

Shinar said. Everyone agreed, but it wasn’t enough to stop them.

They followed the gently winding trail into the Demon Realm.

Before long, the path behind them vanished from view. All they could see in every direction were those brownish-red trees.

No—on closer inspection, the trees glowed subtly with a crimson tint. It was so dark that it almost appeared brown.

How long had they been walking?

Was there some sort of border?

No.

There wasn’t anything visibly blocking them.

But still, it was different from when they entered the Gray Forest.

With every step into the Demon Realm, Enkrid felt as if something were tugging at his ankles.

And then, the moment he stepped forward again, he knew—

He had crossed a boundary.

No one had to tell him. He could feel it.

The air was now «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» so heavy and alien that the earlier atmosphere seemed almost warm in comparison.

It felt as though someone had mixed iron dust into the air—breathing became a chore.

For most people—or more accurately, for anyone who wasn’t a knight—the moment they stepped inside, they’d be crushed by the air alone.

“This is truly unpleasant.”

Shinar spoke again. Her discomfort was twice what it had been before.

Enkrid simply stared ahead in silence.

Then, at that moment, he saw a black dot.

The moment he recognized it, his thoughts stretched out.

His instincts screamed.

If you don’t dodge this, you die.

A small black dot flew toward him, and a sound echoed from afar.

Shwaaaang!

The sound and the projectile came separately.

The object moved so fast that its sound lagged behind.

Compared to a lightning strike, the noise was small—but Enkrid’s finely tuned hearing picked up even the divided echoes.

Then the dot approached, stretched, elongated—transformed into a streak of black lightning that slammed downward.

Wavering lightning.

It wasn’t straight—it rippled like a wave.

As his thoughts split and sharpened, he captured its form.

A long arrow.

Its target?

It was aimed squarely at his forehead.

In the split second that followed, his accelerated mind calculated the fastest path and trajectory.

Enkrid moved exactly along that path.

His body spun around his waist. The sudden motion whipped his deep green cloak around him, and Duskforge soared skyward.