Chapter 610 -Of Course
Enkrid assessed the situation—his own abilities, the Order's strength, and the context at hand.
Despite everything, he didn't consider the current circumstances a crisis.
While he didn't know every face gathered ahead, the information he'd heard beforehand reinforced his confidence.
"They said a paladin has joined the fray. But we're not going to back down, are we?"
Krais had remarked as much. The only unpredictable element came from those arriving from the Holy Nation.
"They're a mess themselves, with internal factions fighting it out. On top of that, cultists are running rampant, battles are erupting everywhere, and monsters are spilling out of the demonic realm. It's utter chaos, so it's hard to say how they'll respond."
Enkrid simply nodded.
Even if all those forces turned against him, he had no intention of altering his course.
That was Enkrid in a nutshell—a man who stuck to his decisions.
Everyone knew that.
If he weren't such a madman, he wouldn't have achieved what he had.
Enkrid's resolve was unwavering.
Noah will live.
The monastery will remain standing.
No one here will die.
That was his decision, and in his eyes, it was like commissioning himself with a job.
"If we're friends now, shouldn't I do more to stop you?"
Noah spoke with sincerity.
"Ah, I'm not very good at listening to others," Enkrid replied.
Noah's face showed he was at a loss for words.
"So just sit back and watch," Enkrid added, his words resonating with an unmistakable Will.
He exuded conviction, and Noah could only stare at the hero before him, now standing with his back to the light streaming through the window.
"Gather," Enkrid ordered as he stepped out of the room.
But everyone was already assembled.
The warrior of the Inquisition's eradication squad approached.
No one seemed interested in stopping him, likely due to the exhaustion of waiting and constant pestering.
The nameless crusader, face hardened, spoke urgently, his tone tinged with concern.
"Do you know who's waiting out there?"
Enkrid shook his head.
He'd heard bits and pieces, but not the full details.
'What's their plan, coming here?
What are they thinking?'
The crusader thought but knew he had to speak.
These weren't just any madmen—they truly lived up to their reputation.
He had to warn them, to make them realize the danger, and ensure they prioritized their own survival.
At the very least, those who had come here for a righteous cause shouldn't meet a senseless death.
"There are two paladins of Balance and Abundance out there. Both are proven warriors."
The crusader's tone was solemn and serious.
Now, do you understand how dangerous this is?
Enkrid blinked at him, his expression clearly asking,
So what?
The crusader couldn't fully grasp Enkrid's reaction, but one thing was clear—this man had no intention of retreating.
"They're not just knights. These are exceptional paladins," the crusader emphasized again, essentially asking, Did you know this when you came here?
"They said so," Enkrid remarked nonchalantly, glancing over the crusader's attire before directing his question to his own knights.
"Yeah, we've heard. That's what they said," Rem replied.
He'd already endured the crusader's endless chatter about the dangers, from the journey here to now.
Rem's tone was less indifferent and more tinged with irritation—likely because the situation reminded him of their departure from the Border Guard.
The annoyance wasn't due to the crusader's warnings, but the cold.
Why are we dealing with this nonsense in freezing weather?
Danger?
What's that, something you eat?
His actions and expression made this sentiment clear, so the crusader's warnings were futile.
Ragna, standing beside him, pretended to think for a moment before asking,
"Both of them mine?"
Paladins imbued with divinity—wouldn't it be fun to face them?
That arrogant bear, Audin, had said he would teach Ragna a lesson.
Facing these two could be a good warm-up before Audin returned.
If he cut them down, dealing with that bear later would be easy.
It would be excellent training.
No one could know what Ragna was thinking, but it flashed through his mind like lightning.
"I'll show you the swordsmanship of the spring breeze that drives away winter's chill," Shinar muttered, her words cryptic.
She'd mentioned this to Enkrid a few times during their journey—a promise to showcase the unique swordsmanship of the fairies.
Enkrid had taken it as half a joke, but Shinar's skills were no laughing matter.
Simply put, she intended to cut through the opposing army to demonstrate her spring breeze swordsmanship to Enkrid.
Fairies didn't bother with human emotions or concepts like fear, so they didn't even feign concern.
The nameless crusader took a deep breath, his frustration evident.
It felt as though he was speaking to a wall.
Ropord, Fel, and Theresa merely nodded.
Paladins, huh.
Interesting.
They wondered if they'd get a chance to fight them.
Winning seemed unlikely, but the idea of testing themselves was appealing.
Luagarne and Jaxen shared similar thoughts.
Jaxen contemplated killing the paladins outright, while Luagarne was curious about how Enkrid would handle them.
Without words, their attitudes revealed their thoughts.
This was the Madmen Unit, shaped by Enkrid's lunacy.
"Did you even listen to what I said?" the crusader finally burst out.
He, too, had seen the unit's exploits in front of the monastery and heard their reputation as mad knights or the Wall of Steel.
However, their fame was recent.
The paladins outside had held their positions for over twenty years.
One was called the Guardian of the Nest.
The other bore the title of an Apostle of Abundance and was known as Azratik, the Viper—a catastrophe infamous for breaking bones.
In close combat, he was among the continent's finest.
"So, no war god's priest or followers?"
Enkrid remained calm.
"Is this really the time to ask such things?"
The nameless paladin paused to steady his breath before answering the question.
His plan was to respond first and then attempt persuasion again.
"Not many people serve the God of War. I'm not sure how many among them could be here, but anyone who's reached the rank of knight or apprentice knight would be at the battlefield, not in a place like this."
Within the order devoted to the God of War, much had changed after the loss of Audin.
One significant shift was their near-total withdrawal from matters like inquisitions within the order.
Losing someone as talented as Audin, who was meant to guide the next generation, naturally led to upheaval.
The God of War had since taken a step back from most of the order's affairs.
As a result, there were very few apostles of the God of War present here.
This withdrawal also marked the beginning of the isolation of those who believed in the God of War.
Having refrained from external affairs, they lacked opportunities to seek power.
Losing power, in turn, made their words carry less weight.
Over time, the order became an insular group.
The current pope of the God of War's order now focused on internal management and carrying out their assigned duties.
Naturally, these internal dynamics weren't something to be shared in detail.
Besides, Enkrid wasn't curious about that.
"A crusade?"
"A battle to hold back the monsters."
The nameless paladin's complexion darkened further, and he muttered under his breath.
"It's a real crusade, in every sense of the word."
The battlefield he referred to was the fight against the corrupted lands.
Enkrid nodded.
There would always be people doing their part, even in dire circumstances.
Otherwise, the continent would have long since fallen into ruin.
So, Enkrid decided he, too, would do what he must.
"Azra? What did you say?"
"Azratik! Azratik!"
The nameless paladin's voice grew louder, a mix of urgency and frustration.
Not all knights were the same, after all.
"I agree," said a gray-haired barbarian, nodding beside them.
What's wrong with these people?
The paladin referred to Azratik, a legendary holy knight who had been active for two decades.
He was known as a cunning serpent, and anyone caught in his schemes wouldn't escape with just a broken bone or two.
So why did they show no sense of urgency?
"Are you really planning to fight?"
"Does this look like a leisurely outing to you?"
Enkrid replied curtly to the paladin and resumed leading the group toward the monastery.
It was a firm answer, ending any further discussion.
The paladin had no choice but to follow in silence as Enkrid led the way.
Walking through the monastery's uneven paths, they passed columns wrapped in dried vines, well-maintained statues of the God of Abundance, small hut-like dwellings, and groups of people watching them from the roadside.
The residents of the monastery stared at Enkrid's group with a mix of hope and anxiety—though, to be precise, the anxiety outweighed the hope by far.
Enkrid continued walking silently, unaffected by the stares.
The nameless paladin was uncertain whether it was better to give false hope or make the people face reality.
He remained silent, much like how Noah might have refrained from spinning comforting lies to reassure a child.
As they walked, a child asked, "Mister, did you come here to protect us?"
A middle-aged priestess gently placed a hand on the child's shoulder.
There was no scolding for the question—it was something anyone in the monastery might wonder.
After all, Noah, who had taken charge of the monastery, had brought in orphans from nearby cities after their parents had been lost.
"We can share our food and squeeze in to sleep. That should be fine, right?"
That had been Noah's reasoning at the time.
Yet now, that decision couldn't necessarily be called the right one.
His care for the children had brought over ten small corpses into the monastery.
The nameless paladin had come because he couldn't bear to watch that happen.
"Must the innocent truly die for power and strength? Lord, grant me an answer."
Receiving no answer from his heavenly Father, the paladin came seeking one himself.
Scripture said to seek if one wished to find; merely wishing in silence would yield nothing.
The child's question reflected a fragile hope mixed with fear.
Enkrid placed his hand on the child's head.
"Of course."
Would such a brief answer bring hope?
Though the fear seemed to lessen slightly, the clouds of despair did not fully dissipate.
And rightly so—words alone were rarely enough to reassure.
As they reached the monastery gates, some individuals who had been organizing their forces after earlier setbacks stood visible in the distance.
In the center of the gathering sat a man on a high chair, surrounded by others.
They appeared to be a key faction of the ones serving the Gray God.
While Enkrid walked toward them, the nameless paladin kept pace beside him, speaking anxiously. He seemed genuinely worried for everyone here.
"Two holy knights are not all they have. There are priests and those skilled in sacred magic. Among them, there's a man named Noma who can launch more than twenty Gray Holy Blasts in one go. Each one hits like a giant's blow. Even the best knights wouldn't stand a chance against that head-on. We need a strategy—"
Though the chatter was slightly annoying, Enkrid didn't mind.
He noticed the paladin's dented breastplate and the fatigue etched on his face, a clear sign of sleepless nights.
It was said he had risked his life a few days ago to steal food and barely survived.
The slight limp in his left leg suggested injuries sustained during that ordeal, though the discomfort wasn't immediately obvious unless one looked closely.
Despite his struggles, the paladin walked with his chest out, comforting the child Enkrid had patted by telling them not to worry.
"He knows that his wavering could affect others."
Enkrid had learned about his background from Noah.
The paladin belonged to the Order of Heretic Extermination, a group dedicated solely to combating heresy.
Why, then, was he here?
When asked, Noah explained:
"He couldn't stand watching the innocent die unjustly. That's all there is to it."
That was what the paladin had said.
Enkrid found him admirable.
This man believed his actions were right, knowing full well he might die for it.
Could his death change anything?
Likely not.
Judging by his words, he understood that too.
And yet, he willingly faced what might be a futile death because he believed it was the right thing to do.
That was conviction.
And Enkrid respected that.
"Nameless? Does that mean you lack a name?"
Enkrid asked as he observed the group gathered in the distance.
"Yes, I haven't been given a name yet, Brother. But isn't that beside the point right now?"
Enkrid found the title "Brother" endearing.
"I see."
Before Enkrid could finish his thought, a cloud of dust rose above the monastery's walls, coalescing into a faint, glowing shape.
It resembled a dragonfly, a mass of gray light.
"Gray Explosion Spell!"
One of the allied crusaders identified it, shouting a warning.
That gray mass was a spell that detonated upon contact, a signature of those who had awakened the Gray Radiance.
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