He hadn't even considered escape from the very beginning. Even if fleeing was the only answer.
‘There’s nowhere to go.’
More importantly, he could see the path forward. How could he turn his back on that path? The signpost laid before Enkrid asked.
Could he overcome the wall without his right hand? If you don’t have teeth, you chew with your gums, was it? A slash-and-burn village chief had said so.
He had quite liked that saying. If he had no sword, he would pick up a spear. If he had no weapon, he would fight with his fists.
If he had no arms, he would bite. If he had no legs, he would just have to walk on his knees.
‘So.’
Without his right hand, what was left? Darkness, abyss, fear, pain. The things that gripped Enkrid each time death came.
Yet even in such darkness, Enkrid always saw the light.
“Give up.”
It was as if someone was saying that. It felt like he was being pushed into the worst possible situation. Saying it out loud made it feel even more so, but in reality, he was unfazed.
Why was that? He didn’t know. Enkrid also knew the difference between himself and others.
How could he not? He had seen his mercenary comrades, who had lived by the sword with him, retire one by one. And besides them.
“I’m done for. There are so many monstrous bastards out there, what’s the point of swinging a sword? It’s bullshit.”