Enkrid could sum up Lua Gharne’s combat style in two simple words: “Boom” and “Bang.”

Charging forward into the horde of gnolls with no hesitation, her advance was as mindless as the brain of a ghoul. But it worked—pure, unrelenting brute force.

“This is what they call a charge, isn’t it? Like a knight on a warhorse cutting through enemies.”

Yes, that was an apt comparison, Enkrid thought. She didn’t hesitate to take hits, ignoring the scrapes and bruises as she lashed her whip with her right hand and swung her sword with her left.

CRACK! CRACK!

Every swing of her whip split the air, followed by the sickening sound of gnolls’ heads, shoulders, and stomachs being torn apart.

CRUNCH! SPLAT! SMASH!

The sound of her whip and sword was punctuated by gnolls’ heads exploding, black blood and brains splattering everywhere. Any hyena-beast daring to lunge at her found its skull pierced by her blade.

STAB! STAB! SQUELCH! THUD!

With every thrust and pull of her sword, short-snouted hyena-beasts collapsed, bleeding black ichor onto the ground.

Even as the beasts gurgled and foamed in their death throes, Lua Gharne’s relentless advance continued. She mowed down nine gnolls and fifteen hyena-beasts in a single, unstoppable charge.

When groups of five or six gnolls began to cluster together, trying to stop her momentum, she simply adapted.

“GRUHK!”

Blowing out her cheeks, she spun her whip fiercely. The weapon didn’t strike them directly this time. Instead, it wrapped around a gnoll’s neck.

WHOOSH!

And with one sharp pull, she sent the gnoll flying through the air.

“Ever seen a gnoll fly? Well, now you have,” Enkrid muttered to himself as he watched the unfortunate creature crash headfirst into the ground.

Her whip and sword became a deadly guillotine, cutting through enemy after enemy. Frokk was terrifying, her raw power and natural combat instincts on full display.

The gnolls howled in fury, but their cries only fueled Frokk’s rampage.

Meanwhile, Enkrid advanced with measured steps, calmly observing. Lua Gharne had made good on her promise, demonstrating the devastating might of a provoked Frokk.

Her attack had distracted the entire enemy horde, giving him a moment to think.

“Can I beat her?”

The question crept into his mind, unbidden. Frokk was a warrior of a combat-oriented race, but she wasn’t unbeatable. She’d said it herself—she was more a scholar than a fighter.

Enkrid couldn’t help but wonder.

“If I had to fight her, could I win?”

It didn’t feel impossible. Maybe it was arrogance. Maybe it was the confidence that came from countless battles and the hard-earned skills he’d accumulated.

“Yes, I think I could do it.”

The thought wasn’t a boast but an honest assessment.

“Your swordsmanship is solid, but knights or those lunatics you keep company with—they’re a different story.”

Lua Gharne’s earlier words echoed in his mind. She had always been blunt about her skills and limitations.

“I’m more curious than competitive,” she’d said once, her bulbous eyes glinting with interest.

When Enkrid had outlined his strategy for dealing with the monster horde earlier, Frokk had puffed out her cheeks and tilted her head, visibly skeptical.

Her body language mirrored that of a human, a result of her time spent among them.

“Are you insane?” her expression had clearly said.

“We did it yesterday,” he’d replied casually, brushing aside her concerns.

As he said it, Enkrid felt his blood stir. His body grew warm, his limbs alive with anticipation.

It was an overwhelming urge—to charge into the fray, to swing his sword with abandon.

“All I need is for you to watch my back.”

He directed the request to both Lua Gharne and Esther.

The town was on the brink of falling anyway. If the gnolls had brought siege ladders, there was no stopping them.

So what was the plan?

“Break what they rely on.”

The gnolls, their cultist leader, and their tools—they relied on numbers, ladders, and brute strength. Enkrid intended to shatter those expectations.

More than anything, he wanted to release the storm brewing inside him, the fire that demanded to be unleashed.

“It’ll be short, but intense.”

He muttered as he stepped forward, reciting the Ferryman’s cryptic verses under his breath.

Lua Gharne, having killed nearly thirty enemies, retreated to catch her breath. Blood dripped from her arms, legs, thighs, and stomach, but her injuries were superficial.

She was strong, no doubt. But was she untouchable? Enkrid didn’t think so.

He stopped amid the swarm of gnolls, hyena-beasts, and ghouls. Their guttural cries surrounded him.

“GRUHK!”

“SCREECH!”

A ghoul lunged at him first, eager to tear into its prey.

As he observed the enemy, Enkrid’s thoughts turned to knights. Was their power truly beyond reach? Or was it a matter of perspective?

“Let’s find out.”

He gripped his swords tightly.

“Short, but intense.”

Facing overwhelming numbers, siege ladders, and a horde of gnashing monsters, Enkrid smiled grimly.

“Alright. Thirty ladders. Got it.”

With that, he unsheathed his swords.

SHING!

The first blade gleamed in his right hand.

TING!

The second blade glinted in his left.

Though he was more accustomed to wielding a single blade, this wasn’t the time for subtlety. Against so many enemies, dual-wielding would serve him better.

And so, Enkrid charged, both swords slicing through the air.

***

Lua Gharne watched Enkrid and didn't ask him anything.

She had her reasons for staying silent.

First, as a Frokk, she was confident she could escape even if she were surrounded by gnolls and beasts. Losing an arm in the process was a small price to pay, and it would regenerate eventually. For her, this wasn’t a problem. That’s why, when Enkrid proposed they dive into the monster horde, she didn’t question it.

The second reason was Enkrid himself—he had changed.

"Why has he changed?"

She’d only been away for half a day, yet his posture, his presence, and his confidence were all markedly different.

"How?"

As a Frokk and a talent appraiser, Lua Gharne instinctively assessed his stance, gestures, and movements. What she saw was incomprehensible.

"How?"

She found herself repeating the question. The man before her was utterly transformed.

Normally, growth in skill wasn’t impossible, even sudden growth in rare cases. But this was different. This wasn’t the kind of improvement she had seen before.

“Prodigies can surprise you,” she muttered to herself.

Yet even prodigies displayed signs of impending growth—indications or hints that their breakthrough was near.

"But there were none."

No warning signs. No subtle shifts. Nothing at all. His transformation had come out of nowhere.

Was this even possible? And Enkrid wasn’t what anyone would call a prodigy. If anything, she’d considered him mediocre at best.

"How could this happen?"

The question lingered as she observed him, trying to discern if this change was real or if her senses were failing her.

"If it goes south, I'll just grab him and run."

Nearby, Esther dug her claws into the ground, tapping lightly. It seemed even the sharp-eyed leopard shared Lua Gharne’s mix of curiosity, expectation, and doubt.

She turned her attention back to Enkrid, her worries momentarily fading.

Shing. Ting.

Enkrid unsheathed two swords and stepped forward into the horde of gnolls, beasts, and ghouls, heading straight for the ones carrying ladders.

"He’s going for the ladders."

Lua Gharne had considered the same approach, but the idea was too far-fetched for her. A single Frokk, or even a battle-hardened warrior, might kill a few monsters upfront, but chasing down the ladder carriers in the rear was near impossible without backup.

Frokk or not, she had her limits. She wasn’t a knight. And no matter how powerful her kind were, even they couldn’t face this many enemies at once.

Breaking the norms of combat and tackling such odds was the realm of knights or knight-level warriors.

And now, here was Enkrid.

Whoosh. Slash. Crunch. Rip. Slash. Stab.

Enkrid’s twin swords carved a path through the monsters. He shattered the norms—destroying what should have been impossible.

"Ah."

Lua Gharne marveled. Growth without signs, progress without hints—this should have been impossible. Yet, here it was, playing out before her.

His swords moved only when needed, as much as needed.

A gnoll lunged at him, its jaws open wide to crush his shoulder. But Enkrid’s blade flashed upward, slicing cleanly through its skull.

Splack.

The gnoll’s head split in two, its body collapsing in a heap.

His movements were deliberate, precise. He slashed vertically, stabbed forward, and never stopped advancing. When he reached the ladder carriers, he cut them down, shattering the wooden ladders as he moved.

Suddenly, six ghouls, moving as one, lunged at him in a suicidal attempt to drag him down.

These weren’t ordinary ghouls—they were under the control of a cultist’s mind-manipulation spell.

It didn’t matter.

Before the ghouls could reach him, Enkrid shifted his stance, stepping forward with one foot while pulling the other back. With fluid precision, he swung his swords.

Whoosh. Slash. Crunch!

The spinning arc of his swords tore through the ghouls, severing flesh, bone, and sinew. Limbs and torsos fell to the ground in a heap of gore.

With his path momentarily clear, he stabbed one of his swords into the ground.

Bzzz!

A strange hum emanated as his hand retrieved a set of throwing knives.

Whoosh!

Ten knives shot out like the wind, each striking its target with pinpoint accuracy. Every gnoll carrying a ladder dropped dead, their heads impaled.

The makeshift ladders fell to the ground, breaking apart on impact.

"GRUUUUH!"

A mutated gnoll charged forward—a massive one with an oversized head. Several others flanked it, along with hyena-beasts snapping at its heels.

Enkrid vanished before the pack could close in.

Lua Gharne’s sharp eyes tracked him as he reappeared behind the mutant gnoll, crossing his swords in a scissor-like motion.

Shunk!

The blades pierced the creature’s heart, ending its life in an instant. Black blood gushed from the wound as its massive body collapsed.

A hyena-beast lunged at Enkrid, only to be kicked away. He followed up with a pommel strike to its skull, shattering it.

Even as another ghoul charged with its venomous claws raised, Enkrid’s blade swung dismissively, taking off its head.

"Ghouls don’t have brains, huh?" Enkrid muttered as the tiny, shriveled mass inside the ghoul’s skull became visible.

The entire engagement lasted mere moments—less than the time it would take to sip a cup of tea. In that fleeting span, Enkrid had destroyed most of the ladders and killed nearly a hundred monsters, including almost all the ghouls.

Lua Gharne watched in awe. Her skin prickled, not with fear but with exhilaration. Her heart ached in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

"He’s a mystery," she thought, tears welling up in her eyes. A mix of joy, wonder, and disbelief filled her chest.

She wanted to sing, and so she did—an old Frokk battle hymn.

But before the song could reach its climax, Enkrid stumbled back, falling to his knees. He planted his swords in the ground to steady himself, his body trembling.

"I… need help."

His lips were pale, his voice barely audible.

Lua Gharne snapped out of her reverie. Without hesitation, she lashed her whip around his wrist and yanked him toward her.

"Let’s go."

She caught him in her arms as he flew through the air, cushioning the impact by bending her knees.

Even as the remaining monsters roared and surged forward, arrows rained down from above.

"Shoot! Shoot!"

The defenders fired relentlessly, their arrows and rocks slowing the monsters’ advance. Though some gnolls managed to raise ladders against the barricades, they were quickly pushed back by the town’s remaining fighters.

Lua Gharne glanced at Enkrid, who, despite his exhaustion, managed a faint smile.

"Madness," muttered Deutsch Pullman, watching the scene unfold from the walls.

Lua Gharne silently agreed.

"Yes, madness."

Enkrid had fought like a knight, pushing beyond the limits of common sense.

In just half a day, the man she once thought unremarkable had transformed into something extraordinary. Her heart, long dormant, beat with a renewed vigor—like that of a young girl seeing the impossible for the first time.