Chapter 126: Today's Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow's Victory (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 126: Today's Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow's Victory (2)
Flames erupted in Ragna's eyes.
Whether it was ambition, desire, or something else entirely, Encrid couldn't tell.
Before he could even finish the thought—
Whoosh.
The sound of tearing air reached his ears first.
The moment the whistle registered, the blade was already descending upon his head. Encrid moved instinctively.
Bracing his sword horizontally, his blade—forged from a blend of Valerian Steel and Noir Wrought Iron—met Ragna’s shabby, mass-produced Arming Sword.
Clang!
Steel shrieked against steel. A sharp spark erupted, and as quickly as they had collided, the weapons parted.
Ragna took a step back, and Encrid mirrored the movement.
It was a mere exchange of greetings.
Yet, from that single greeting, Encrid felt as though he had glimpsed something entirely new.
‘What should I call that?’
An incredibly fast strike? Or a stealthy, deceptive downward slash?
It was elegant. Beautiful and exquisite.
Ragna's swordplay was a strike that clean.
His own response, however, was the exact opposite. It wasn't clean. It was rough—like a blunt, crude blade or untanned, coarse leather.
Even so, he had seen it, and his body had reacted.
"Again," Ragna said.
The blade flew along a trajectory identical to the previous strike, without the slightest variation. A clean, beautiful slash.
Encrid blocked it from the same stance.
Clash!
Sparks flew as the metals ground together.
Zing.
The moment the blades clashed again, Ragna's sword vanished.
‘A Snap Strike right from the moment of impact.’
Ragna wielded his sword with absolute freedom, and the move he had just executed was no exception. It looked like a smooth downward strike, but it carried the explosive power of a Snap Strike.
Though Encrid had raised his sword horizontally to block, both of his arms vibrated with a sharp, stinging numbness.
In that brief opening, Ragna's sword snaked downward, plunging toward him.
His target was the thigh.
The single Snap Strike had numbed Encrid's arms, leaving him completely exposed to the follow-up.
Should he force his numb arms to move? No, that would be a mistake. Instead of relying on his hands, Encrid used his feet to leap backward. He took a calculated step, trying to seize a more advantageous position.
By pulling his right foot back and twisting his torso, he naturally angled for his opponent's flank.
Ragna didn't stand still. Fluidly pulling back his plunging sword, he shifted his feet to the side.
Shhhk.
With footwork that seemed to sweep the ground, the two faced each other once more.
If what burned in Ragna's eyes was a kind of passion... then what, conversely, was reflected in Encrid's?
‘Those eyes.’
Desire surged within Ragna. Motivation welled up. He wanted to swing his sword. Not with mouth and tongue, but with hands and feet.
With swords, with weapons, with killing intent, and with pure will.
He wanted to converse through violence.
Encrid did not refuse.
‘Good. Very good.’
While Ragna was admiring him inwardly, Encrid felt something uncontrollable erupting in his chest during their brief exchange.
The greeting of clashing swords, the Snap Strike, and the subsequent struggle for positioning—everything came together, nudging something deep within his soul.
And then, something began to burst forth throughout his entire body.
What should he call this? Vitality? Vital energy?
He didn't know. The only certainty was that he was overflowing with power.
The greeting and the Snap Strike had served to test his wrists. Though a heavy impact lingered, there was no pain.
‘It's fine.’
Then all that was left was to play, wasn't it?
This time, Encrid went first.
It was a thrust carrying his entire soul and lethal intent. Stepping forward with his left foot, he executed the entire motion in a single breath, sending his sword flying with a sharp whoosh.
Like a swooping hawk, the tip of his sword tore through the air.
Ragna watched the incoming point and twisted his body. Without any flashy footwork, he simply slipped past Encrid's thrust.
Ragna smiled as he dodged.
And Encrid smiled back, satisfied to see Ragna evade it.
To an onlooker, it would have seemed like a sequence of incredibly simple exchanges: thrusting, slashing, dodging, and taking ground.
Tap, tap.
Encrid's attacks were highly irregular. He suddenly closed the distance, attempting to kick Ragna's shin. When Ragna dodged, Encrid immediately grabbed his sword's ricasso and blade, forcing a Half-swording struggle.
Ragna deflected, parried, and dodged everything before swinging his own sword in return. He swung and swung his sword as if it were the only thing he was born to do.
‘Damn it.’
Watching them, Rem stomped his feet in frustration.
‘That looks so fucking fun.’
Encrid's skills had grown yet again. In just the few days they hadn't seen each other, something had changed once more.
Rem wanted to fight. He wanted to spar with an Encrid whose wrists were perfectly fine. Just watching them filled him with an itch he couldn't scratch.
‘Take it easy, you bastards, take it easy.’
Rem grew anxious, worried that Encrid would exhaust all his stamina fighting Ragna. Though it had never happened before, this spar felt different. A different kind of tension was flowing between them.
It was unlike their previous spar when Encrid's wrists had been injured. Back then, though everyone had been surprised, Rem and the others had held back and humored him.
But now?
‘Is that bastard actually being serious?’
To Rem, Ragna's swordplay looked that way. While not as intense as when he fought Rem, it was far from his usual lazy style. If Ragna had exerted even half this much effort when fighting the enemy, the enemy commander would have had the name "Ragna" engraved into his skull.
‘Hey, you bastard, seriously, take it easy.’
Rem's hands itched. If the two of them hadn't been smiling, he would have grabbed his axe and barged in long ago.
Rem wasn't the only one whose blood was pumping.
‘Why am I...?’
Sachsen denied his own feelings. Did he ever enjoy fighting on the front lines? No, never. Not once. Had he ever trained in swordsmanship out of passion? No.
Training and being driven by desire were two entirely different matters. At least, they were to Sachsen.
Twitch.
His hands kept trying to move. His body was reacting to the steps Encrid took and to the sword swung by the man he called his platoon leader.
‘This is ridiculous.’
To suddenly feel such competitiveness... it was absurd. No matter how much Encrid's skills had improved, Sachsen was confident he could beat him down right this instant. In Sachsen's eyes, that foolish, lazy slacker Ragna wasn't even doing his best. If Ragna were any more serious, the fight would have ended long ago.
So why was his body reacting to a fight like that?
Sachsen clenched his teeth at the strangely humiliating sensation. He composed himself and remained silent, controlling his twitching body as he stood tall and watched.
While Sachsen struggled for composure, Audin felt nothing but pleasure. He was delighted.
‘Soon, perhaps...’
Because it felt like he, too, could use some of his strength now. He was in no rush, nor did he deny the competitive urge rising within him.
‘For it is a gift from the Lord.’
The desire to struggle was beneficial and good to Audin. If he didn't even have that, his place right now would not be by Encrid's side, but by the side of the God he served.
Despite suffering a terrible headache for two days as the price for using his divine power, Audin was inwardly satisfied.
Just look at that. Did not the movements of their fully recovered squad leader fill him with admiration?
The Elf Company Commander did not miss a single movement made by Encrid and Ragna. A thought occurred to her.
‘Was he a genius?’
It was a natural question. He certainly hadn't possessed that level of skill before. She recalled their first meeting in the medical tent and every moment she had faced Encrid since then.
‘I thought he was just lucky.’
But now, his swordsmanship could no longer be ignored. Even to her eyes, he was outstanding—a single crane standing out among a flock of chickens. Based on what she had observed so far, one could call him a genius who had shot up to this level in a short period, but...
‘No, it's a bit different.’
Her sharp eyes found flaws in Encrid's form. They were habits that a true genius would never have. An elf's senses were sometimes even sharper than Frok's Talent-Reading Eye.
She saw traces that only appeared in those who had swung their swords tirelessly and pondered endlessly for a very long time. She saw those traces in Encrid.
Did one ever see such things in the breed called geniuses? No. They were like Ragna—there was no hesitation or deep thought in the sword he swung. That was the textbook definition of a genius.
Then what about Encrid?
"Ha!"
Right then, Encrid let out a shout and attempted a one-handed vertical strike to the crown of the head. It was a strike filled with the contemplation born of repeating the same motion countless times. A stroke that knew this trajectory was optimal because he had tried every other path—a swordsmanship confident that this was the only road to his destination.
Clang!
Their swords met. With a harsh screech, Encrid's blade slid down Ragna's sword to one side.
A calculated move? The elf's senses were precise.
Ragna exerted force to deflect Encrid's sword and immediately thrust forward, attempting a short vertical slash.
Meanwhile, Encrid's left hand erupted with light. A bluish beam, starting from his waist—a magic forged that stretched out to pierce the sunlight.
It was his second sword.
Whoosh!
In the end, Encrid's sword only cut through empty air. The draw of his second sword was terrifyingly fast, but even in that split second, Ragna's eyes had perceived everything. He avoided the strike by stepping back.
It was a perfectly calculated retreat. Encrid's second sword merely swept through the empty space in front of Ragna.
Immediately after, Ragna brought down the sword he had pulled back. It was a strike that stole the timing and shattered the trap.
It couldn't be called a victory purely through a battle of wits. Rather, it was a difference in raw capability. For what was needed in battle was not simply strength, but cognitive ability, senses, experience, and swordsmanship.
Ragna had felt and seen Encrid's left hand move. Then, he moved his hands and feet at a speed Encrid could not match.
And so, the spar ended.
Watching the fight conclude, the Elf Company Commander grew slightly impatient.
‘I want to fight too.’
She felt a rare surge of competitive spirit. Previously, they had sparred with hands and feet, but now she wanted to trade blows with swords—with a bit of her true strength mixed in. A sudden urge welled up to show him the divine skills her Naidel displayed.
How would Encrid change after witnessing that?
Watching the spar from the side, Krais felt no such competitiveness. How could he, when he couldn't even properly follow their movements?
‘He's improved.’
Even as a layman, he could tell that Encrid's skills had grown immensely.
‘Is he some kind of late-blooming genius?’
It was surprising, but that was as far as his interest went. Krais turned his gaze from the spar to the surroundings. The situation was quite amusing to observe.
Rem stood up and sat down three times before practically stomping his feet in frustration. He looked like an anxious child who had been robbed of his favorite toy.
Beside him, Sachsen's shoulders twitched a few times before he suddenly froze, completely still, as if he had turned into a heavy stone statue. He didn't move a single finger, making one wonder if he was even breathing. How could someone remain as still as ice like that? Watching him sent a chill down Krais's spine. It felt like being left alone in a graveyard in the dead of night.
‘Ugh.’
Krais shook his head inwardly, his gaze shifting to Audin. This massive soldier, deeply immersed in the teachings of his god, was practically muttering to himself with a warm smile. Krais stepped right next to Audin to listen.
"Mmh, good. Now he's worth fighting."
"It should be fine if I break one of his arms."
"Snapping his neck... ah, I almost sent him to God ahead of schedule. That won't do. No, indeed, that won't do at all."
This time, Krais was genuinely terrified. Goosebumps broke out all over his body. What on earth was he talking about?
Despite his words, Audin didn't look like he was about to pounce. While the murmurs coming from his mouth were pure horror, his demeanor remained solemn. Audin quietly held his ground.
Finally, there was the Elf Company Commander. The elf, who usually made strange jokes, kept her eyes fixed on Encrid while holding her sword. She was like a quiet forest, yet also like a storm ready to unleash itself at any moment.
Such were Krais's impressions. He thought these people were truly something else.
No crowd of onlookers gathered around them. A few days after their victory, the soaring morale had subtly quieted down. Since no one knew when the next battle would break out, everyone was busy with personal maintenance. A few soldiers glanced over to watch, but they didn't pay much attention.
Hadn't he already demonstrated his outstanding skills once before? Hadn't they watched their spar when Encrid returned from the rear? To them, there didn't seem to be much of a difference from back then.
Those with a discerning eye were busy. And the rest had no interest in watching. There were no noisy spectators.
Neither the lack of onlookers, nor the atmosphere of impending battle, nor the very air around them mattered to these people. Even though they knew they would soon have to march onto the battlefield in this state...
‘They're practically dying to fight each other.’
And their target was a single person: Encrid, their platoon leader, who had only just shaken off his injuries and stood back up.
‘Do they even have brains?’
Even so, Krais did not scold them. He was always careful not to provoke them under normal circumstances, and now, even more so. The heat rising between them was no joke.
‘Will he be alright?’
Even to Krais, the spar with Ragna had been intense. He thought it would be best for Encrid to stop and rest. But if Encrid said he was going to rest, Rem would surely throw a fit. And the others wouldn't let it slide easily either.
Krais's worries were in vain.
"Next."
Encrid smiled broadly, drenched in sweat. Unable to contain the power surging through his body, Encrid wanted to push himself to the absolute limit.
At those words, Rem leaped. He literally sprang from the ground and rushed forward.
"My turn! My turn! If anyone cuts in, I'll kill you! I don't care if you're the company commander or whatever!"
Rem's eyes were completely crazed.
The Company Commander, who had been about to step forward, paused. She decided to practice the virtue of yielding. But that was fine. Looking at him now, Encrid didn't seem to have any intention of resting either.
That day, Encrid pushed himself to the limit. Just as he wanted, he clashed and swung his sword with sheer delight, even demonstrating his Two-Sword Style.
"Quite usable," the Elf Company Commander remarked when she finally got her chance, offering a brief assessment of his dual-wielding.
It didn't end with just one round. Ragna went twice, Rem three times, Audin twice, and the Elf Company Commander once. Excluding Sachsen, who never stepped forward, these were the number of times they sparred with Encrid.
Krais shook his head in disbelief. The sparring only ended when the sun began to set, as if they never grew tired.
Once the sparring was over, Encrid collapsed onto the ground. Esther, who had appeared out of nowhere, glared fiercely at everyone upon seeing this. Her glare seemed to ask what on earth they had been doing to push him to this point.
However, no one paid any mind to her gaze. And Encrid was more satisfied than ever.
‘Their expressions.’
When was it? Was it when they returned from scouting the Tall Grass Field? Back then, he had watched Rem and Ragna spar and realized something: their expressions were different from when they sparred with him.
He had wanted to draw out those same expressions. And today, he had finally succeeded.
Of course, not everyone, including Rem and Ragna, had fought at their absolute best. He knew that very well. But he had seen it—their changed expressions. Their laughter, their smiles, their satisfaction.
Because it felt like he had achieved one small goal, Encrid felt a rush of ecstasy, a thrill of pleasure. A joy like a drug. The fulfillment gained from growth filled his chest to the brim.
Perhaps, however, he had overexerted himself.
That night, he had another fucking nightmare.