Chương 741: Chapter 740 – How Precious a Life Held in My Own Hands 

Chapter 740 – How Precious a Life Held in My Own Hands 

The Village of Hermits didn’t recognize personal property; instead, everything was shared among the residents. 

Since they never knew when disaster might strike, they made sure to stash away plenty of things—just like squirrels hiding acorns. Hidden storage pits, covered with boards and dirt, were revealed beneath Tree Roots or at the entrance to the village. 

‘It’s a good way to store food, since it stays cool even in summer.’ 

They dug storage pits in shaded spots where sunlight wouldn’t reach. If you couldn’t afford the luxury of using a magical tool to keep things cold, you had to use your wits. Still, with summer on its way, the things that spoilt easily had already been limited or consumed. Although there wasn’t as much as in winter, the table was still piled high with smoked meat and dried fruits he’d never seen before. 

“If we do this, we’ll have nothing left to eat later.” 

One of the villagers muttered. Even in this situation, the ingrained habit of not wasting anything was strong. 

They’d never truly gone hungry. Maybe it was partly luck, but they’d been able to gather usable fruits and herbs from their settlement and even traded with passing merchants. They hunted animals as needed, and when there was truly nothing else, they purified Beast meat and ate that. 

If you removed the toxins and didn’t care about the taste, Beast meat had enough nutrients to keep a person alive. 

“Just do as you’re told.” 

The timid man looked around nervously as he spoke. 

Harkbent, their usual spokesman, kept his lips tightly shut and busied himself laying out food on the table. 

They were moving several times more than usual. 

Even during training, they’d started eating more, but today it was on another level entirely. 

At the piled-high table, the children’s hands reached out first. 

Before long, everyone was busy eating. 

Era thought, Forget it. 

Let’s just eat first and worry later. 

If we die after eating, it’s not like we’d have regrets, right? 

Maybe the others thought the same. 

And for reasons they couldn’t quite explain, there was a vague sense of hope—maybe things would work out somehow. 

It was vague, yes, but only because they didn’t know the reason. 

A closer look would reveal that all of it stemmed from Enkrid’s demeanor. 

Unless someone was truly oblivious and cared more about filling their own stomach than feeding their child, most would have started to realize it. 

Harkbent took a bite of smoked pork loin, chewed, and swallowed. 

The saltiness made his tongue tingle, so he gulped down his water. 

All we’ve done is train. 

But trained for what? 

Training to fight Beasts. 

Of course, anyone with a bit of sense might start to wonder— 

Can we really fight Beasts just because of this? 

Even if we stand back-to-back and thrust our spears together, would it really change anything 

Some people had given up thinking at some point, but there were still plenty who hadn’t. 

Harkbent had gotten past the point where anxiety made his stomach churn, but that didn’t mean he felt at ease. It was like lying under a roof awkwardly stacked together with dirt. If it didn’t collapse, it would be a miracle. 

It felt as if the whole thing could cave in and bury him alive at any moment, but even so, whenever he saw Enkrid far off, chewing on something with his mouth full, some of that anxiety faded. 

What a strange guy. 

That man had a knack for reassuring everyone around him. 

A single word, a simple action, just the way he carried himself—everything he did had that effect. 

Maybe that’s why, even now, while he sat among the villagers with a child at his side, there was a feeling of stubborn hope lingering in the air. 

Enkrid popped a fruit into his mouth, rolled it over his tongue, and spat out the pit with a sharp flick. 

The spit-soaked seed rolled carelessly across the ground. 

The fruit itself was wrinkled on the outside, with firm flesh surrounding a pit about the size of a thumbnail. 

The flavor was sour, sweet, and slightly astringent, but once you tasted it, you couldn’t stop reaching for more. 

It was a tree fruit specially aged through a particular process. 

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” 

A child sitting beside him asked. 

Right next to the child, Brunhild sat with a bump on her forehead in place of what would be her third eye. 

“It’s kind of like a plum,” said a clever-looking boy, chiming in. 

When Brunhild tried to rush in but was stopped with just a single finger, that kid muttered, “What an idiot,” before quickly stepping in to defend her. 

“She’s good at using her body, but she gets lazy when it comes to thinking. And she’s so stubborn that once she’s got her mind set on something, she’ll never change it. That’s the flaw in Brunhild the genius. So really, it’s all a big misunderstanding.” 

He couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen at most. Small frame, thin arms and legs. 

Didn’t look like the fighting type. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Eirik.” 

Enkrid had shoved these two into the cave together and acted sort of like Krais with them. 

So, rather than preparing for a short-term battle, you could say he was being forward-thinking and planning for what was to come. 

You could also say he charged ahead like Rem but strategized like Krais. 

“So you grouped people with similar builds together, especially those who’d always lived close to each other, and had them stand in formation, right? The point was to keep them from dying easily. To make them hold out.” 

Eirik had seen right through it. 

A cool summer breeze blew by, stirring the boy’s hair. His blond hair was light enough to reflect hints of white. 

He was an interesting kid. 

Enkrid, finding the smoked meat too salty, tucked it between some herb bread and chewed as he asked, 

“Why stick to a circular formation and give them spears instead of shields?” 

“Because you want them to hold off the beasts and buy time by facing them directly. Keeping distance is key. Only a few strong folks in the middle need shields. We could call this formation the ‘Frightened Hedgehog.’ After all, if you don’t let the beasts get close at all, then no one dies—but if they can’t hold the line, everyone gets wiped out.” 

“Wouldn’t it be better to use bows or slings for that?” 

“No. With arrows, there’s a gap to reload after each shot. If stones or arrows were enough to drive the beasts off, we wouldn’t be in as much danger as we are now.” 

Those were the same bright, burning eyes he’d seen in Brunhild. 

The watery-blue eyes looked straight at Enkrid. 

It was like two lakes reflecting the midday sun were shining side by side. 

If Enkrid’s eyes were a deep blue, this boy’s were much lighter in color. 

Before he could say anything, the boy asked, 

“Was I wrong?” 

He wasn’t one of the kids Brunhild led, nor was he someone who’d stood out among the adults in training. 

“You’re right.” 

“That’s a relief.” 

He asks with such certainty, yet says he’s relieved. 

No, that’s not quite right. 

That’s something you notice when you’ve known someone like Krais for a long time, but this boy genuinely questioned his own thoughts. 

‘He must have been anxious, too.’ 

He would have been worried about the Stranger’s motives as well. 

‘This is a process of verification.’ 

Brunhild stepping in and speaking up for the boy was probably part of that process, too. It was like watching Krais as a child. He was a boy who thought differently from others. Talent is never even. It isn’t fair, and it tilts the scales. That’s how these coincidences happen. If Brunhild was naturally gifted with her body, then this boy’s talent was his mind. 

“Memorize that formation well. If it wavers, everyone dies.” 

From the start, the tactic of giving no ground was based on the assumption that if you yield any distance, it’s all over. 

“What will you do next?” 

No matter how clever a child, he couldn’t imagine something outside what he already knew, so the boy couldn’t even guess what Enkrid would do next. 

“Predict and deduce. Use your head and think. Filter out what needs to be done as well.” 

“If you’re thinking of taking us with you,” 

The boy tries to gauge Enkrid’s intentions. 

To some, such an audacious attitude might be irritating, but Enkrid was not such a small-minded man. 

Just as he hadn’t been jealous of Brunhild, he harbored no ill will toward Eirik either. 

Eirik, this boy, was trying to weigh Enkrid’s kindness. 

Did he calculate this, too? 

‘No, that’s not it.’ 

From here on, it was a gamble—words spoken as if betting his own life, all for the sake of this village. 

“It won’t work. We came all this way because we’d rather die together than live under someone else’s thumb. We can’t throw away everything we’ve built up until now.” 

Better to die than go back to living as slaves under the city’s rule. 

That’s the kind of resolve they had. Homeland, foundation, foothold, ground, home. 

Different words, but to them, home meant this place. 

He suddenly remembered the words he’d heard before leaving Yohan. 

‘I’m sorry. I’d like to go with you, but my place is here That much is certain.’ 

‘If you told me to become a slave and follow you, I would. But if you’re telling me to follow you as Riley of Yohan, then I won’t leave Yohan.’ 

‘Can I visit you someday?’ 

What a bunch of jokers. 

He could tell what this boy was worried about, and he noticed that Harkbent kept sneaking glances at him too. 

It’s obvious that neither of them was acting out of some infatuation with him. 

Was he trying to make them leave their home? 

What was he hoping for? 

Questions must have been swirling endlessly in their minds, but if a single word from him could have put them at ease, he would’ve gathered the whole village together and given a speech long ago. 

Since that’s not possible, he left things be. 

Even if he could, it would be meaningless and a waste of time. 

Enkrid patted the boy on the head and asked, 

“How old are you?” 

“Seventeen.” 

“…Seventeen?” 

“Yes, I’m pretty small for my age, right? That’s where most of my insecurities come from. I’ve been weak and frail since I was little, so I don’t have much strength.” 

“But you’re still smart.” 

That last comment came from Brunhild. 

“I can see that without you needing to say it. You should listen to him more.” 

“I do listen. Really, I do.” 

Brunhild wasn’t oblivious either. 

From the way things were unfolding, she could tell that the Stranger who taught her spear techniques wasn’t acting out of malice. 

*** 

The Night of Predation passed. 

Although someone’s anxiety and fear still coiled deep inside their hearts, the kind of fear was starting to change. 

“It’s Beasts!” 

Before the two moons had even set, just before dawn, more than fifty Wild Dog Beasts and Wolf Beasts had mixed together and poured into the Village. 

They ignored the traps set at the front and instead prowled between the trees, their red eyes glowing as their heavy forepaws pressed into the earth. 

Those holding spears swallowed hard. 

In the past, just the murderous aura and stench of that pack would have made their knees tremble, but not anymore. 

This time, they faced the Beasts with blades sharpened by danger, unlike the last full moon. 

Enkrid hadn’t slacked off in prodding the exhausted trainees, and he swung his Sword right up to their faces without hesitation. 

“If you fall, I’ll cut you. Hold your ground.” 

To an outsider, it might have looked like he was deliberately tormenting people, but in the end, everyone who endured it grew braver. 

Even when faced with Beasts, their legs no longer trembled as before. 

“It’s starting.” 

Harkbent shouted when he saw the horde of Beasts. 

“Ha!” 

With a shout, groups of ten formed into circles. The human formation braced their spears and confronted the Beasts. They shaped themselves into a ring, protecting those who couldn’t fight in the center. Eirik stood at the very heart of it, scanning their surroundings. 

‘Hold the line.’ 

He understood the Stranger’s intention, but not the reason behind it. 

‘A pervert?’ 

Did he just want to watch people struggle and die miserably? 

Did he want to torment them before killing them? Or maybe he intended to slay the survivors with his own blade in the end? 

All sorts of thoughts ran through his head, but for the weak, there was never a choice. 

They could only fight desperately to survive. 

The Stranger had cultivated not the strength of individuals, but the strength the group could muster together. 

‘Instead of focusing on the gifted ones, he set the weakest as the standard so everyone would move as one.’ 

Eirik saw it clearly. 

He was right. 

An army’s strength comes when everyone moves as one. 

“Turn!” 

“Ha!” 

They’d been pushed to their limits, so most of them were plagued by muscle aches, yet their minds were clearer than ever. 

Growl! 

Four wild dogs approached the circle. 

Those holding spears knew exactly how to thrust them. 

With both hands on their spears, they occupied the space the beasts tried to enter. 

Where technique was lacking, Brunhild moved around and gave them further instruction. 

Naturally, Enkrid had put her up to it. 

Only then did the adults realize that Brunhild had been born with a talent different from other children. 

Each person’s neighbor was responsible for their defense. 

They thrust their long spears out, keeping the Beasts at bay. 

The spears shot left and right with precise spacing and timing, becoming a hedgehog’s quills. 

Growl! Growl! Yip! 

Compared to Monsters, the hide of Beasts was soft. 

Except for a few especially formidable ones, these Beasts were entirely manageable. 

And if the goal was simply to hold out rather than to kill them, this should be more than enough. 

‘Alright, then.’ 

Enkrid watched those holding their ground from atop a tree. Now, they wouldn’t die so easily. In midair, the Ferryman’s apparition appeared and spoke. 

“You sly bastard.” 

Sly? This ought to be called a brilliant tactic. This was a tactical application of the Valen-style Mercenary Swordplay: Feigning Defeat. Feigning Defeat was a unique technique—while you’re pretending to be pushed back, your comrade delivers a blow to the enemy’s back of the head. The strength of Valen-style Mercenary Swordplay was precisely in considering the help of others. Many scoffed at this style just because they only knew a handful of techniques, but if they understood the deeper meaning within the swordplay, they couldn’t dismiss it so lightly. 

‘The Phantom Sword might as well be called the Tactical Sword.’ 

Enkrid had already mastered the Phantom Sword to an impressive degree. The only problem was that, with any sword technique, you still needed physical power to make it work. Steel means nothing unless someone’s swinging it. Enkrid sharpened his senses atop the tree. After some time had passed, he jumped down, killed a Beast, and drove the rest away. 

“Huff, huff, ha, huu, oo.” 

Everyone was breathing heavily, but no one had died. 

Not even a scratch, to be precise. 

That meant they had held out well. 

“We’re done for today.” 

Enkrid spoke. 

It had been a drill just like the real thing. 

Since he was overseeing it, he considered it training rather than an actual fight. 

One real battle had been more than enough. 

“Waaah!” 

A triumphant cheer erupted—one that had never come when their lives had been saved by someone else. 

A life grasped by their own hands was truly that precious