Chapter 946 - You Can Stay
Enkrid, Rem, Dunbakel, and Juol finally returned to Elder Bear.
"Welcome back."
Hira, who was now the Elder Shaman, greeted them at the entrance of the city.
She had sensed the shift in the air and come out to meet them before they even said a word.
"What did you boys do? Did you happen to shoot down one of those Black Birds that have been giving us a headache lately?"
Hira asked, her tone laced with anticipation.
There were several particularly troublesome monsters currently plaguing the West.
Shaman Hira had dreamt an auspicious dream the night before, and she assumed that Enkrid and Rem had probably hunted down a few of those beasts while they were out.
Hadn't there been a sudden surge in monsters in the West recently?
The prevailing theory was that because trade had opened up with the continent, the monsters being pushed out had banded together in desperation.
It was a theory proposed by Black Wing, but it sounded highly plausible.
Hira deeply respected and trusted their martial prowess.
She fully expected they had casually slaughtered a few monsters on their way back, just like they had wiped out that troublesome giant bandit group.
"No."
Rem shook his head.
Hira blinked in confusion.
Did you really just go check on the Demonic Realm?
You didn't run into any Black Birds on the way?
Then why is there such an overwhelming aura of good fortune pouring out of you?
She was about to voice her questions when Juol, unable to contain himself any longer, blurted it out.
"We killed Silence."
Hira was an exceptional shaman.
She was an open-minded and incredibly tolerant person.
She could accept almost anything you told her and respond with unwavering composure.
Her demeanor made her a role model for many Westerners.
She appeared stoic, yet she was deeply affectionate and devoted.
"Was there a monster named Silence?" she asked back.
"You could call it a monster," Enkrid nodded in agreement.
She pieced it together quickly.
As expected of the Elder Shaman of the West.
"Well, you're not wrong to look at it that way, but right now, Hira hasn't understood a damn thing you just said," Rem added, providing the necessary clarification.
"Aren't you guys hungry?"
Dunbakel, having burned through an absurd amount of stamina in the recent battle, twitched her nose and asked.
"I'll treat you to some perfectly slow-roasted lamb."
While Juol replied to the suggestion of food, Hira's pupils trembled violently.
Silence?
A monster?
The Demonic Realm?
Her mouth opened again, a barrage of questions poised on her tongue.
"You did what?"
"Silence is gone. Only the remnants are left. Go tell them, Hira. You sensed something and came out early, didn't you? Wasn't it to hear this exact news? I'll say it again. Go tell them. The Demonic Realm Silence is finished. You don't have to worry about Purple Demonic Humans or Tail Needles crawling out of there anymore. Silence is dead."
It was an unusually long speech from Rem, who rarely spoke at length.
His tone was calm, yet an undeniable heat burned beneath his words.
Even for him, it was impossible not to be deeply moved by what they had accomplished.
Hira's hands trembled.
She didn't ask if he was telling the truth. S
he simply turned around and spotted Ayul standing there.
"Ayul," Hira called her name.
Ayul walked right past Hira and stepped forward.
She fixed her gaze on Rem—a gaze as fierce as a roaring fire—and opened her mouth.
"You did what?"
Instead of giving another long speech, Rem simply nodded.
"Silence is gone."
In the West, the name of the Demonic Realm Silence was synonymous with an open wound.
Too many people had died in that Demonic Realm.
Countless people had lost family, lovers, and friends to its horrors.
Some considered Silence their mortal enemy, while others viewed it as untouchable, god-like.
Occasionally, a few deranged shamans even babbled that Silence should be worshipped as a new deity.
The Demonic Realm Silence was the root cause of every tragedy the West had ever known.
'The sunlight is exceptionally bright today.'
Enkrid looked up at the sky, then at Ayul, silently observing Rem from behind.
Ayul looked stoic.
Or rather, she only appeared that way on the outside.
To the eyes of a knight who wielded Will, the chaotic, jagged fluctuations of her aura were glaringly obvious.
It was a physical manifestation of the tempest raging in her heart.
"If you need a witness, I can testify."
Enkrid, the man who had personally cut the entity down, raised his hand and offered.
Naturally, no witness was actually needed.
For the entire day following their return, they were bombarded with questions from everyone desperate for answers.
"Silence is a Demonic Realm. What do you mean you 'ended' it? It's not just a simple monster colony; it's a Demonic Realm. Does that even make sense?"
Led by Black Wing, several Westerners who were accustomed to life on the continent voiced their doubts.
Aside from them, there were many who still couldn't fully comprehend what had actually happened.
However, not a single person treated Enkrid and Rem like Mocking Cats spinning tall tales.
A Westerner who doubted their words?
In the current climate, such a person was as impossible as a mirage.
They believed them.
That was exactly why they were so profoundly confused.
"If it's my husband, of course he can do it."
Among them, Jiba demonstrated absolute, unshakable faith.
"Truly, a man who drags a storm with him wherever he goes."
Leona simply marveled.
Was a Demonic Realm something that could actually be 'killed'?
She had her doubts, but since they said they did it, she had nothing more to say.
Her trust in them was rock solid.
Were the other Westerners any different?
To them, Enkrid was the Savior.
Rem was a genius who had grown up among them; he was family.
However, that didn't mean they could just nod their heads, say 'good job,' and move on.
"We will need to verify this."
The Chief of Great Wing stepped forward.
His attitude remained favorable, but he knew full well that an event of this magnitude couldn't be brushed off with a simple 'I understand.'
If it were true, it was imperative to declare it clearly to everyone.
If it were false, they would have to demand to know what the hell kind of stunt they were pulling.
While the verification process was being organized, Enkrid took a well-deserved rest, eating the meals Juol prepared and drinking the beverages Jiba brought him.
"That woman won't be an obstacle for us, will she?"
Jiba had grown into quite the sly child in the time he hadn't seen her.
She asked the question the moment Leona approached.
"You have two other obstacles far more terrifying than me to worry about, you cheeky little thing."
Leona laughed it off and pulled out a drink made from the Tree of Paradise.
The clay cup was filled with a faintly shimmering, milky liquid.
Enkrid took a sip, and Leona immediately asked.
"How is it?"
Enkrid marveled at the rich flavor and aroma filling his mouth.
It was certainly valuable enough to justify her ambition for trade.
The sweetness, the slight tang on the tongue, and the subtle, lingering fruit aroma were deeply satisfying.
"If Krais tastes this, I think he'll demand we discuss investments immediately."
It was the highest praise.
A massive smile bloomed on Leona's face.
"I think it'll be even better with a few refinements."
Even with excellent ingredients, simply supplying them to stores wasn't enough.
It only held value if people understood why it was so good and exquisite.
That was the only way to create a massive demand for the drink.
To achieve that, Leona planned to open and run cafeterias or restaurants herself.
Naturally, an undertaking like that required many capable hands.
One particular individual had caught her eye perfectly.
"If it's cooking, leave it to me."
It was Juol.
It just so happened he was brimming with plans to open a restaurant specializing in Western cuisine.
Leona's eyes sparkled.
The Sangrodo, the greatest treasure of the Rockfreed Merchant Guild, detailed a vast array of local specialties from across the entire continent.
She could use that knowledge to open specialty restaurants based on famous regional dishes.
Her sharp commercial instincts were already painting several grand pictures.
The first step would be traditional Western cuisine, right here at the end of the Stone Road.
"Juol, shall I open a restaurant for you?"
She seamlessly slipped into her role as a merchant.
Enkrid kept his mouth shut and simply enjoyed the show as a spectator.
Right before his eyes, Leona had found a new dream and firmly resolved to achieve it.
"I'm going to plaster the name 'Rockfreed Restaurant' across the entire continent."
She muttered to herself.
It was a dream similar to Krais's Salon.
Naturally, Enkrid cheered her on as well.
"Good luck."
"If you ever find yourself out of a job later, let me know. The Vice-Captain position is always open for you."
"I'm telling you, if your actual Vice-Captain heard that, he'd be incredibly hurt."
"No, if it were you, absolutely no one would object."
Trivial banter was the perfect elixir to wash away the agonizing hours spent plagued by hallucinations inside Silence.
A time that might seem meaningless to an observer was something profoundly enjoyable to Enkrid—something he never wanted to lose.
Protecting the ordinary days.
Protecting not just the people behind him, but their everyday lives as well.
Enkrid refined his dream once more.
The news that Silence was dead spread to every surrounding settlement in less than a fortnight.
Anyone who saw a barley field spring up overnight right in front of the boundary of Silence would undoubtedly rub their eyes in disbelief.
They verified it, they accepted it, they were shocked, and they rejoiced.
What followed was a massive festival.
"Eat and drink!"
Even before the Chief of Great Wing—Ayul's father—could shout the order, everyone had already brought out their hoarded rations.
It was said that Westerners inherently loved to celebrate.
Because they lived in such a harsh, unforgiving environment, they survived by rationing strictly year-round, but a culture had taken root where they would lay everything out and celebrate with reckless abandon for at least one day a year.
Today was that day.
"The Demonic Realm Slayer!"
Enkrid had earned a new title.
It was a day where not a single trace of the snowflakes that had fallen upon their arrival remained.
It was spring.
It was warm.
A spring had finally arrived where true warmth seeped into the wind.
For several days straight, Enkrid was bombarded with titles like 'Savior' and 'Hero.'
He received Ayul's heartfelt gratitude, and the Chief himself came and bowed his head to the dirt before him.
Jiba pointed at her mother and confidently proclaimed herself a certified beauty, and Hira, acting as the Elder Shaman, cast a blessing spell on behalf of the entire West.
The night he received that blessing, the Ferryman mocked him endlessly in his dreams.
"Go ahead, try bringing a god's blessing. Even if you become the Goddess's consort, my curse is eternal. It is immortal. It will never leave your side."
The desires of the individual Ferrymen might differ, but they all shared a profound resentment toward the gods.
Enkrid realized this anew and nodded in response.
"I'm looking forward to it."
He still had a long way to go on his journey.
His mindset of cheering on everyone's dreams remained entirely unchanged.
If the Ferryman's wish turned out to be something even he could accept...
When that time came, instead of saying 'I refuse' or 'I don't want to,' he would gladly cheer on that dream as well.
"You really are an arrogant bastard."
The Ferryman spoke, reading Enkrid's inner thoughts.
One corner of its mouth tore open to its ear in a grotesque smile, but it didn't feel like a mocking sneer.
"I'll admit, there has never been a bastard quite like you before."
That was what it said.
The Ferryman had embraced countless mortals.
It wrapped them in its curse, watched with them, felt with them, and savored the fragmented moments of their lives.
Because that was its sole remaining amusement, its only joy.
It hurled scathing criticism and condemnation at those who couldn't even endure a single day, and it mocked those who endured day after day, telling them they would never break through the wall.
What did a Ferryman like that truly desire?
Enkrid didn't bother asking.
He didn't even try to figure it out.
Now wasn't the time for answers.
It was a thought that came to him naturally.
He hadn't peered into the future, but a profound certainty raised its head within his heart.
Now is not the time to provoke this curse—this collective entity of madness known as the Ferryman.
"Are you trying to compare whose madness is stronger?"
If Krais knew, that was exactly what he would say.
After his encounter with the Ferryman, Enkrid spent his days alongside Black Wing, training and guiding the rising talents of the West.
"You little shits, and you call yourselves the pillars of the West?!"
Rem exploded in a fit of rage during the training.
It wasn't a big deal.
Enkrid simply ran with the supposed 'elites' of the West, and after running, he taught them the meaning of self-discipline through sparring.
No one dared to call him a demon to his face, but their pupils trembled violently as they asked how much longer they had to do this.
When more than five of them simply gave up before even passing out, Rem lost his temper.
"Blargh."
Beside him, Black Wing violently emptied the contents of his stomach.
This, too, wasn't a big deal.
As an instructor, shouldn't one be capable of performing feats the students wouldn't even dare attempt?
Black Wing had to set an example, and he did.
He endured an ascetic training regimen five times more grueling than that of an ordinary warrior.
Enkrid sparred with Black Wing over forty times in two days, thoroughly battering his entire body.
With his entire body—save for his face—mottled in yellow and blue bruises, Black Wing was currently surrounded by several shamans acting as healers.
"Have I finally reached the realm where the Divine Generals play?"
Black Wing murmured, staring blankly at the sky from his back.
"No, if you go there, you die," the Elder Shaman quickly stopped him.
"I can see a river," another warrior chimed in.
"My dead grandfather is waving at me," the warrior next to him added.
Well, there were quite a few Westerners spouting similar nonsense.
"You weak, pathetic excuses for warriors!"
Rem exploded in rage once again.
If Enkrid beat them down one day, Rem would beat them down the next.
Neither of them had the slightest intention of merely tormenting them.
The reason for all this?
There were several.
"Chief of Great Wing, Silence may be dead, but the Demonic Realm remains," Rem stated.
It would be wonderful if they could sweep it all away in a single stroke, but a Demonic Realm that had sunk its roots here for centuries wouldn't vanish overnight.
There was a high probability that monster colonies would attempt to settle inside it in the future.
In fact, if they did nothing, it was practically a guaranteed future.
What needed to be done to prevent that?
Rem delivered his conclusion.
"Countless warriors will have to march in there and clear it out."
The Chief of Great Wing accepted his words and opened his mouth.
"Then you must stay and lead them."
He then added his reasoning.
"You are my daughter's husband and the father of my granddaughter. Do you not think it is a natural request?"
He wasn't wrong.
Enkrid, who was sitting with them, raised his teacup and spoke.
"You can stay, Rem."
Enkrid would never resent Rem for choosing to stay here.
Rem knew it, Enkrid knew it, and Ayul knew it.
In the end, everything was simply a matter of his own choice.
***
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