After dealing with the hyena beast pack, the group found a stream to wash up, eat some jerky, and refresh themselves.

Eating, drinking, and washing were essential—especially on a long journey. Even catching a simple cold could drastically increase the hardships of travel.

“This taste is something else.”

Finn seemed to have regained a bit of her spirits, thanks to the power of seasoned jerky.

Lua Gharne, meanwhile, ate dried fruit and the edible insects she had prepared herself. She even caught and ate a few cicada-like bugs.

It didn’t bother anyone. By now, they were all accustomed to Frokk’s diet.

“Insects make the body stronger,” she said while chewing on a dried grub.

The Border Guard outpost lacked any facilities that catered to Frokk’s needs. Lua Gharne’s "packed meals" were her own creation.

As long as she was satisfied, it didn’t matter what she ate.

Esther, too, seemed to enjoy the jerky. She chewed a few times, swallowed, and nodded in satisfaction.

Was she even a panther anymore? At this point, she might as well be a person.

The group filled their waterskins from the clear, cool stream.

As they continued their journey, crossing a small knoll along the path, Enkrid caught an unpleasant scent.

‘The smell of blood?’

It was the scent of death and battle. The stench of blood and iron—an odor unmistakably tied to the battlefield.

When they crested the hill, they found the source of the smell.

Scattered across the area were the corpses of beasts—wolves, snakes, and even goat-like creatures that had mutated. There were a significant number of them.

The bodies bore wounds from slashes, bludgeoning, and tearing. Many were shredded beyond recognition, and some had clearly been gnawed on by packs of feral dogs.

What were beasts? Animals transformed by the magic of monsters or the influence of cursed zones. Predatory creatures with aggressive tendencies were especially susceptible to these transformations.

Still...

‘This is too much.’

Just as Finn had angrily pointed out earlier, this wasn’t some cursed zone. How could there be this many beasts here?

The number of carcasses scattered around easily totaled thirty.

Cursed zones were lands humans couldn’t enter. They were the breeding grounds of monsters and beasts.

Many kingdoms had attempted to subdue them over the years.

But rather than succeeding in their conquests, they’d only weakened their resources, leaving themselves vulnerable to their neighboring nations.

It was widely assumed that something in the heart of these cursed zones spawned the endless waves of monsters.

Of course, if this had been near the edge of a cursed zone, such a gathering of beasts would have been considered trivial.

After this discovery, they didn’t encounter another pack of beasts.

“This is what I’d call normal,” Finn muttered.

She had also seen the scattered corpses. Among them were a few ghouls, but the majority were beasts.

There were far more beasts than monsters.

Spending twenty-two days on the road, two days longer than planned due to constant interruptions, the group finally spotted their destination—the frontier settlement.

Tall wooden palisades loomed ahead, a solid defensive barrier against intruders. Two watchtowers stood above the walls.

It wasn’t a small settlement.

If it were a government-backed frontier settlement, it made sense that it would have such a scale—nearly resembling a fortress.

“It’s big,” Kraiss commented.

“Yeah,” Finn replied nonchalantly, surveying the surroundings.

As a ranger, Finn may have been frustrated at times, but reaching their destination seemed to bring her some satisfaction.

Perfection wasn’t possible in every task.

Enkrid, of course, didn’t concern himself with such things.

He simply approached the wooden gate.

At a glance, it was clear the defensive structures were well-built.

This was a properly fortified frontier settlement, one that had received considerable investment in resources and manpower.

When Enkrid identified himself, the gates creaked open.

From atop the watchtower, a man with a stern gaze raised an eyebrow.

His expression was far from welcoming.

‘He’s got the kind of face you just want to punch.’

Even for someone like Enkrid, who rarely took interest in others, this man’s face was exceptionally punchable.

Inside, the palisades and gates were made of thick logs. The structure wasn’t quite at the level of a castle wall, but it was comparable in size and height.

At the center of the village stood a tall flagpole and a platform, clearly marking the village square.

As they entered, the village chief approached to greet them.

The chief was a young man, about the same age as Enkrid.

His face was unremarkable, but his eyes gleamed with confidence.

“Welcome,” he said.

Enkrid could tell from the man’s tone, demeanor, and gaze that the group wasn’t entirely welcome.

Perhaps it was Enkrid’s heightened intuition or well-honed instincts.

Even with Frokk as part of their party—a clear sign of their strength—the chief showed little enthusiasm for their arrival.

***

"Your Help Isn’t Necessary"

“We can manage just fine on our own.”
“We already chased away the nearby band of major bandits.”
“Have you heard of the Black Blade Bandits? Even they wouldn’t dare mess with us!”
“We appreciate Frokk coming here, and it’s nice that the commander decided to visit, but as you can see, this isn’t some small village.”
“So, you’re a squad leader? Must be good with a sword, I assume?”
“One of our own used to lead a mercenary band in their youth—have you heard of the One-Eyed Glaive? That’s our village’s current captain of the guard.”

Their attitude, summarized, was this:

“We don’t need interference. We’ll handle things ourselves. Have a look around, go back, and report favorably. The request? Just say it’s complete. We’ve already dealt with the colony.”

The village leader and his inner circle—likely the core governing force—were all relatively young, mostly in their prime or slightly older.

Their message was clear: Don’t meddle. Most of the village workforce seemed to share their sentiment.

The guards or militia, whoever they were, even displayed subtle hostility toward the group.

“Let’s do that,” Enkrid said, showing no interest in asserting his authority or enforcing his command.

It wasn’t worth the trouble.

The request was the request. Work was work. People were people.

Since the villagers insisted they could handle things, Enkrid left them to it.

However, he decided the group would stay for a while. Five days at the least, seven at most, just enough time to assess the situation and report back if the village was genuinely safe.

It was their prerogative, and Enkrid accepted it without much concern.

The group was given a hastily assembled shack as their lodging.

While Kraiss wandered off to explore the village, Lua Gharne turned to Enkrid and asked, “So, we’re just staying here, watching them?”

“I plan to spend the time training.”

“Even here? Sure, I guess you would.”

By now, Lua Gharne was getting used to the way Enkrid operated.

If it were him, even in a place like this, he would find a way to swing his sword.

There was plenty of open space near the shack. Many areas were still in the process of being built.

In one such clearing, Enkrid began practicing with his sword.

He didn’t care who watched—when had he ever?

The fundamentals of the Straight Blade Style, the sense of evasion, and other techniques he’d recently become engrossed in were what he focused on.

As he practiced, the movements he’d learned came together seamlessly.

He swung, and swung again, immersing himself until only the sword and its rhythm existed.

Within that world, Enkrid reflected on the lessons he’d received from Lua Gharne on their journey.

While Enkrid was engrossed in his practice, Kraiss busied himself exploring the village.

Despite being an outsider, he surprisingly blended in well.

“That’s a talent in itself,” Lua Gharne thought.

Kraiss had a knack for reading people’s intentions and scratching their proverbial itches.

Walking around, he casually offered, “Care for a cigarette?”

With just a rolled cigarette, he won the favor of a bearded man near the quarry.

“You’ve got guts, coming all the way out here to the frontier village. That’s impressive. You’re a real man, huh?”

With just a few words, Kraiss earned the man’s goodwill.

“He’s got a way with words,” Lua Gharne mused.

Such people were common in the kingdom—politicians, nobles, and bureaucrats who thrived on eloquence and charm.

“Would he fit in with them?”

While the journey had been harsh and perilous by conventional standards, Kraiss’s energy and adaptability seemed unshaken.

Meanwhile, Frokk’s gaze shifted to observe the rest of the group.

Esther, the panther, lay on the window sill of the shack, staring intently at her master.

Finn, meanwhile, was catching up on sleep inside the shack.

Lua Gharne had little to do herself.

With spare time on her hands, she opted to assist Enkrid with his training.

Her thoughts wandered back to past experiences—specifically, the so-called “geniuses” she had once trained.

All of them were, without exception, arrogant bastards.

Yes, that was the phrase—arrogant bastards.

“Isn’t this enough training?”
“Do I really need to learn more?”
“I’ve got an appointment at the salon this evening.”
“Look, I like you, Frokk, but I’m not interested in this... spiritual love or whatever you’re after. Please, let me go.”
“I’m done. This is my limit. I can’t do any more.”

Gifted individuals were all alike.

They picked up techniques so quickly that there was no concept of grueling training or enduring hardship for them. They never had to bleed, sweat, or suffer to achieve mastery.

With their bodies optimized for efficiency, they had the minds of dried-up wells, devoid of the mental grit to push further.

Swordsmanship was about controlling the body and moving it as willed.

That was the fundamental principle.

But these prodigies were born with such innate control that even minimal practice sufficed for mastery. They were unaccustomed to hard work.

Lua Gharne puffed out her cheeks as she thought about it.

Once someone had mastered the basics, what came next?

“Nothing much,” she concluded.

The rare few pushed themselves, swinging, running, and rolling tirelessly.

But they were truly rare.

Most were disappointments.

“Still, there were exceptions,” she thought, recalling her first lover.

He was a man who always gave his best to the present moment, never worrying about tomorrow.

“Training is fun,” he used to say.

Lua Gharne reminisced about those times. She had been younger then, far more passionate than she was now.

Even so, as a Frokk, her hunger and desire hadn’t waned with age.

Returning to the present, her gaze fell on another man.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked.

Enkrid glanced at Lua Gharne and nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Sweat-soaked, black-haired, blue-eyed—he was nothing like her former lover.

That man had been talented, perhaps even destined for knighthood if life had been fairer to him.

But this man wasn’t him. So why did they overlap in her mind?

“Just nostalgia,” she thought. A faded memory, no longer pleasurable but tinged with pain.

As a Frokk, she dismissed unpleasant memories with ease. Her life was about living in the present, fulfilling desires, and honoring her commitments.

“Commander, commander!”

Her thoughts were interrupted by Kraiss, who approached Enkrid with his usual briskness.

“The place is quite something. They’ve got a quarry, a training ground, and plans for barracks. Word is, there’s some noble backing this village.”

Kraiss had managed to gather all this in less than half a day.

Enkrid nodded and asked, “What about their defenses?”

“If a large beast pack attacks, what then?” he wondered.

The original request had been to eliminate a colony of beasts, with the suggestion to use the village militia for support.

If that plan was off the table, could the village handle it on their own?

Kraiss continued, “They’re well-trained, probably thanks to that ex-mercenary captain. I’m no expert, but they seem disciplined. And disciplined troops don’t break easily. Even the guards in the watchtower—friendly words, but their eyes are fierce.”

The watchtower, the guards, their eyes—it all rubbed Enkrid the wrong way. He couldn’t shake the impression they might’ve been mercenaries with a history of banditry.

Still, it seemed like the village was reasonably secure.

“What now?” Kraiss asked.

“Let’s spar,” Enkrid said, turning to Lua Gharne.

The Frokk blinked her protruding eyes and nodded.

“Shall we use wooden swords?”

“Hey, Kraiss?” Enkrid called.

“Yes, sir?”

“Could you fetch us some wooden swords?”

Kraiss sighed but nodded. “I’ll get them.”

While he walked off, Esther let out a peculiar laugh behind them, almost like a chuckle.

“Have you always laughed like that?”

Enkrid’s curiosity got the better of him as he asked Esther.

Feigning composure and pretending she hadn’t laughed, Esther stretched her neck dramatically, turned to the side, and rested her forehead against her paw.

It was clear no answer was forthcoming.

Soon after, Kraiss returned with the wooden swords he had managed to procure.

The sparring began.

Lua Gharne had a specific reason for requesting wooden swords.

“It’s a game of strategy,” she explained.

This was a method she had once used to train her exceptionally gifted lover in the past, though, of course, Enkrid was unaware of this.

He was simply engrossed in the practice, enjoying it immensely.

A new form of training, a new way of handling the sword.

It was enjoyable. Rather than relying solely on his physical abilities, this training focused on refining the fundamentals of the Straight Blade Style.

The objective was clear: decide which side of an opponent’s sword to block and deflect, all in preparation for the next move.

It was about setting traps at every turn, paving the way to victory.

As the wooden swords clashed slowly, building up to strategic maneuvers, murmurs began spreading among the villagers who watched.

“What’s that about?”

“Are they here on vacation or something?”

“Support from the kingdom? Looks more like a holiday retreat to me.”

The sight of someone sparring with a Frokk while casually enjoying swordplay became the subject of chatter.

Even in a village this large, with a militia and guards, it was still a frontier settlement with no more than 200 residents at most.

Rumors started to spread that the commander sent from the Border Guard was some kind of hedonist. The talk suggested he’d arrived with a Frokk for a bodyguard, a woman as a guide, and, for some reason, brought along a wide-eyed servant and a pet.

Enkrid paid it no mind.

When he had been a reckless squad leader, he’d faced even worse rumors. They had never bothered him then, and they didn’t now.

“Ugh, sword training again, even here?”

Finn, who had just woken up from a long nap, stretched and rubbed her eyes. The moment she saw Enkrid drenched in sweat, she clicked her tongue in disbelief.