Chapter 947 - Maji
Rem burst into a hearty laugh at Enkrid's words.
He laughed so loudly it was almost embarrassing for the people around him, but then his expression turned deadly serious.
"Spit it out. Who put you up to this? The sneaky cat bastard? The religious fanatic whose mother was definitely a bear? The picky, lazy bastard who gets lost if you take your eyes off him? Or don't tell me... it's the country-bumpkin shepherd? It couldn't be Smelly or the self-deprecating bear's disciple. Let's see... is it the sharp-eyed turncoat from the Red Capes?"
Enkrid simply lifted his teacup and savored the flavor.
Teacups in the West have no handles.
When you hold them, the temperature of the tea transfers directly to your hands.
This design carried several layers of meaning.
It allowed you to gauge the temperature of the tea before drinking, and the cup itself always maintained a subtle, comforting warmth.
It was one of the cultural quirks of the West.
Drink your tea when it's warm; eat your food when you're hungry.
From that perspective, the temperature of the tea was always kept consistent.
It was a polite warning not to drink cold tea, and a consideration to let you know the temperature beforehand.
This practice was deeply intertwined with the cultural philosophy of the Westerners.
Love a child more deeply while they are young.
Comfort them when they are sick.
Share in their joy when they are happy.
'It's a fascinating culture.'
In the West, they called this concept 'Maji'.
It meant do not miss the right moment.
"Right now is the Maji. Let it all out and drink!"
The Chief of Great Wing had shouted those exact words during the festival, declaring that the time for celebration had come.
Juol had explained the meaning of the word to him previously.
When Juol realized it was time to chase his dream, hadn't he said that his Maji to leave had arrived?
It was a sudden thought.
Listening to Rem, various fragments of memory swam through his mind.
The pieces connected, forming a single, cohesive thought.
'You really see right through to the essence of things, Rem.'
He couldn't help but think it.
Listening to his flawlessly accurate descriptions of the Madmen Knights, Enkrid found it impossible to argue that he was wrong.
Rem then launched into an impassioned speech.
His fervor was so intense that if he ran for the position of Chief of Great Wing right now, he would probably be elected unanimously.
"Don't give me that bullshit. If I stay here, there are more than a few bastards who will immediately gun for the Vice-Captain seat. I can't just let that position go. Absolutely not."
Who is the Vice-Captain?
Enkrid had his doubts, but he didn't bother pointing it out or arguing.
Jaxen, the cat-like bastard Rem mentioned, wasn't here.
Neither was Audin, with his bear blood, nor the lazy bastard who was practically a corpse without his sword.
He could let Rem enjoy his delusion for a little while.
"I'm coming with you. If not now, when else am I going to get the chance to fight those bastards to my heart's content?"
Rem finished with a low growl.
His fighting spirit remained unbroken; his resolve was towering.
Enkrid instantly recognized the wisdom of the West woven into the Will driving Rem's words—the very same wisdom that dictated drinking tea while it was warm.
'You must fight when it is time to fight.'
Enkrid reflected on the concept of the Western Maji once more.
The situation certainly called for it.
He had the individuals bound by the name 'Madmen Knights', and both the King of Naurillia and the Pope of the Legion were on their side.
They had forged a connection with Aspen through war, and now they were a neighboring nation and an ally.
'Will the South turn out similarly?'
Even if they didn't become staunch allies like Aspen, they wouldn't pick a fight for at least a few years.
During that time, they would serve as a bulwark against the Demonic Realms.
After all, the core condition of the Embankment Treaty was that the Southern nation of Lihin-Stetten would act as a defensive wall.
Now, only one massive mountain remained.
'The Empire.'
He had met a few people from the Empire so far, but the true ambitions of the Supreme Ruler of the North remained frustratingly obscure.
Rem was not stupid.
In fact, he possessed an exceptionally brilliant mind.
Hadn't Krais himself said that when it came to being cunning, Rem was second to none?
Yes, he had.
Sometimes, listening to Krais evaluate the Knight Order or other people was highly entertaining, and hearing Rem do the same from a similar perspective was equally amusing.
Feeling a sense of camaraderie in sharing the same viewpoints as others, and listening to them express those views in their own unique styles, opened up entirely new perspectives for him.
For instance, the phrase 'whose mother was definitely a bear' was refreshingly hilarious even to Enkrid.
It was good enough to pocket and use later if he ever needed to provoke someone.
'He claims he learned how to provoke people from me, but...'
When it came to scraping at someone's nerves, Rem was a formidable opponent.
Enkrid could feel it in the meticulous care woven into every single insult.
Enkrid learned something new today as well.
The world was full of things to learn.
"So don't even think about leaving me behind. But I've gotta admit, I'm feeling a little annoyed. You think you've grown a bit, is that it?" Rem concluded.
His tone made it clear this was his final decision, and his resolve to accept no counterarguments was blazing.
"I'll say it again: I've always been bigger than you in two areas," Enkrid replied.
"When I was practically teaching you how to walk, I didn't realize your personality was this insufferable. But looking at you now, you are a remarkably unique brand of obnoxious. You know that, right?"
Enkrid widened his eyes as if he had never heard such a thing in his life and asked back.
"Me?"
Beside them, Dunbakel giggled.
"Yeah, actually, even back then, I knew your personality was exceptionally twisted. Remember when I said how you used to mock that bald soldier? I asked Finn about it later, and she said the guy who heard it had veins popping out of his bald head. Imagine how furious he must have been."
Enkrid blinked and repeated his previous line.
"Me?"
The corner of Rem's mouth curled up.
Between his twisted lips, a canine tooth flashed.
It looked unusually sharp, resembling the fang of a beast.
But seeing human language flow from that mouth made it clear he was no mere animal.
"God damn it. Step outside. I'm fixing your attitude today."
Enkrid nodded as if he had been waiting for the invitation.
It was exactly what he wanted to hear.
He hadn't been able to properly warm up lately, doing nothing but tossing around the fragile warriors of the West.
He had a mountain of things he wanted to test out, and he was highly eager to see what Rem had picked up during their recent battles.
His fatigue had washed away, and the hallucinations he gained from killing Silence no longer plagued him.
Both his mind and body were perfectly primed.
And that was true not just for Enkrid, but for Rem as well.
"Let's do it," Enkrid answered.
"Oh boy."
Beside them, Dunbakel immediately took a large step back.
It was a clear declaration that she had absolutely zero intention of getting involved.
Rem jumped to his feet and stormed outside.
Enkrid followed close behind.
"What's going on with the atmosphere?" Juol approached and asked.
Dunbakel answered him.
"They're going to fight."
"Fight?!"
Dunbakel quickly softened her language.
This wasn't the Madmen Knights' camp; phrasing it like that here would definitely cause a misunderstanding.
"A spar."
"Ah."
Juol nodded.
Then, he immediately turned and whispered a few words to the Westerners nearby.
They scattered in all directions, rapidly gathering a crowd.
"A fight!"
"A spar!"
"Who with who?!"
"The Savior and Rem!"
Rumors travel faster than anything else.
They were significantly faster than Weird Eyes spreading his wings.
Everyone immediately flocked toward the commotion.
People tanning leather, artisans crafting shoes, women weaving grass, children playing, warriors training, along with the Little Chief and the Chief of Great Wing—everyone swarmed the area.
The West revered warriors.
Having lived a life where claiming scarce resources through combat became ingrained as a culture, it was unavoidable.
Perhaps things would change as time passed, but their inherent ethos and cultural identity wouldn't shift for at least several decades.
Because they were Westerners, watching a good fight was their absolute favorite pastime.
"Wait, who is fighting who?"
Many had rushed out the moment they heard the word 'fight' without even asking for details.
"The Savior and Rem."
"Ooh."
Upon learning the identities of the combatants, their eyes sparkled with unprecedented intensity.
For many, their eyes seemed to shine even brighter than when they heard Silence had been eradicated.
Recently, the chiefs of surrounding minority tribes had also been invited, making Elder Bear incredibly crowded.
"Who are you betting on?"
Naturally, an impromptu gambling ring sprang up.
In the West, Rem was not viewed as a derangedly unhinged, axe-murdering maniac.
He commanded profound respect.
Because of that, many threw their support behind him.
"I'm betting on Rem."
Several Western warriors boldly tossed their Kronas onto his side.
A few from the minority tribes did the same.
To them, the title 'Savior' was just a rumor, but Rem was a tangible reality.
The veteran warriors who remembered what he had done while living in the West couldn't even fathom him losing to anyone.
The image of him single-handedly slaughtering dozens of demonic beasts, laughing uproariously while drenched in their black blood, was still vividly burned into their retinas.
And right after that, he had effortlessly cleaved the neck of the so-called 'champion' of the Cannibal Tribe.
The Rem of that time had been an absolute monster.
Of course, as time passed, several warriors had emerged who could rival the Rem of the past.
One of them was even present in the crowd right now.
Still, if you had to bet, betting on Rem was the logical choice.
"Alright, alright. I'm betting on Rem, too."
"It's not like he's just been playing around on the continent, right?"
As the minority tribes joined in, the pot grew massively.
And right into the middle of that betting pool stepped Ayul.
"You're betting on your husband, naturally?"
There were merchants in the West, too.
Recently, they had been rapidly expanding their influence through trade with the Rockfreed Merchant Guild.
One of them approached Ayul and asked.
Ayul didn't hesitate.
She slammed her entire coin pouch onto the betting board.
Thud.
The heavy sound of the pouch hitting the wooden board echoed loudly.
Who is the most fiercely competitive woman in this land?
Ayul answered that question with her actions.
The gamblers swallowed hard.
The pot was already massive, but she had just dropped the single largest pile of Kronas yet.
The gold coins gleamed from within the half-open pouch.
The gamblers waited with bated breath for the words to leave her mouth.
Obviously, she's betting on Rem, right?
Wait, which way are the odds leaning?
Whatever, as long as the Savior wins, it's fine.
"Naturally..."
Just as the gambler was about to finish her sentence with 'you're betting on Rem,' Ayul cut him off.
"The Savior."
The gambler-merchant couldn't believe his ears.
In the West, a wife's unwavering faith in her husband carried shamanic significance.
Usually, a wife would express her absolute support for her husband.
"...Are you serious?" the gambler asked.
"Raising a child is expensive," Ayul replied.
As the daughter of the Chief of Great Wing, she wasn't exactly lacking in wealth, but Ayul had learned a lot while working with the merchant guilds.
'You can never have too many Kronas.'
If Krais had been here, he would have undoubtedly marveled at how well she had learned her lessons.
Well, even if she won this massive payout, she would probably spend it taking in and feeding the destitute rather than just on raising her child.
At her words, the gambler briefly lost his composure but quickly nodded.
Regardless of who she bet on, he just had to pay out according to the odds.
"Rem! Rem! Rem!"
A chant erupted from one side of the crowd.
Rem cupped a hand to his ear and grinned.
"You hear that?"
This was his land.
This was the West.
Naturally, he had a massive home-field advantage.
Rem subtly flaunted his confidence.
The battle inside Silence hadn't lasted long, but the sheer density and intensity of that short time had been staggering.
He had learned a great deal.
He had experienced countless epiphanies.
"Rem! Rem! The Rem of the West! The Pride of the Westerners!"
Against the backdrop of the chaotic cheering, just as Rem was thoroughly enjoying the adulation...
A roar erupted from the opposite side.
"Sa!" "Vi!" "Or!"
Hearing how perfectly synchronized the chant was, it was obvious one of the Elder Warriors had taken charge and orchestrated a highly coordinated cheering campaign.
"The Demonic Realm Slayer!"
"With that Face!"
"He Has Already Won!"
There was a clear difference in volume.
The chant shook the very earth and rattled their eardrums.
Anyone faint of heart would have felt their chest cave in.
Enkrid simply shrugged his shoulders.
I didn't ask for this, but what can I do?
His gesture implied he had already won the cheering contest in a landslide.
"I'm telling you, you're just fundamentally obnoxious," Rem grumbled, drawing his Spirit Weapon.
He let his arms hang loose and stared blankly at Enkrid.
Aside from Enkrid and Dunbakel, no one else even realized the fight was about to begin before Rem abruptly kicked off the dirt.
Boom!
The earth exploded, and dirt rocketed into the air.
The moment he drew his axes, he closed the distance to Enkrid instantly.
Were they putting their lives on the line, or was this just a light spar?
There had been no discussion, no agreement, but it didn't matter.
They hadn't just met yesterday; they were used to playing like this.
The moment Enkrid felt Rem's bloodlust, he drew Night Stroll, suppressing its violent nature as he swung.
'Do not cut indiscriminately.'
The sword, dangerously close to being a Demon Sword, rebelled against the master trying to restrain it, but Enkrid's Will was an iron wall that hadn't even yielded to a demon.
In a flash, he crushed Night Stroll's bloodlust and thrust it forward.
The blade Enkrid swung and the axe Rem hurled met in mid-air.
Enkrid and Rem heard nothing.
They had already entered a world of utter silence.
Before the sound of their first clash could even reach the crowd, their weapons had collided more than six times.
Both men employed countless feints and deceptions, hunting for an opening.
Pretending to trip, feigning lost breath, faking a break in their Will, acting injured, pretending their momentum broke, intentionally showing a mistake.
It was a clash of blades utterly steeped in deception.
Naturally, to the spectators watching from the outside, it was an incomprehensible blur.
BANG—
There was only the deafening sound of compressing air exploding.
CLANG!
The sickening crunch of steel colliding detonated with impossible volume, physically battering the crowd's ears.
CRACK-BOOM!
A thunderbolt roared.
Beneath the clear, sunny sky, the sound of thunder echoed relentlessly.
As the deafening explosions overlapped, everyone felt the agonizing sensation of their eardrums tearing.
'We're going to die at this rate.'
A few quick-witted Western warriors frantically shoved the crowd back.
If they stayed where they were, they might actually pass out from the shockwaves.
They were fighting in front of the stone-built village hall.
The entire population of the West scrambled further away.
They had called it a spar, yet shockwaves were ripping outward from between the two men, generating localized hurricanes.
Even from a significant distance, the concussive blasts punched them in the gut, and the gale-force winds slapped their cheeks.
It truly was a battle between two walking calamities.
***
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