Chapter 137: A New Day
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 137: A New Day
In moments of crisis, humans sometimes unleash power far beyond their limits.
Drawing that power out and wielding it at will—that was the Heart of Monstrous Strength.
It was a name given to signify the act of drawing out the heart of a beast.
In Rem’s tribe, they used to say that when one used this technique, the god they worshiped or some form of sorcery dwelled within their bodies.
Sure, there was a sorcerous effect involved.
But a god? That was utter bullshit.
‘But it’s a far cry from actual sorcery, that’s the thing.’
Having experienced and devised it himself, Rem had his own theory.
‘The heart beats faster because something inside the body is unleashed. That’s all it is.’
The human body is a mystery, and this was one of its many secrets. Once that "something" started working inside the body, the muscles tensed with raw, primal power.
That was when the Heart of Monstrous Strength would activate.
It was neither sorcery nor the descent of a spirit.
When was it that he had first realized this?
Amidst a storm of axe blades, at the very brink of death, something had erupted from within him. The moment it reached his muscles, he was able to exert power several times greater than his usual limit.
How did it happen?
Through exploration and research, he realized that when blood began to circulate madly throughout the body, the heart beat several times faster than normal.
Although a sorcerous trigger was needed to start the process, that wasn't the core of it.
He believed it was a matter of focus—or rather, sensation.
"Focus. Again."
Rem spoke, continuing his train of thought.
Encrid stood before him. Soon, the two placed their hands over each other's hearts.
Since Encrid had that crazy concentration-boosting technique the lazy bastard had taught him, it might actually work.
Well, if it didn't work, so be it.
Rem had already half-given up. What else could he do?
Even in his old tribe, those who realized this truth could be counted on one hand. And even though every single one of them possessed a body like an iron wall, far beyond mere robustness, they had still hovered on the brink of death multiple times.
"I think I just dipped my toes in the river of the afterlife and came back," was a phrase he often heard from them.
In other words, for the Heart of Monstrous Strength, the vessel comes first.
Even if activated properly, the body would break down first.
Could the platoon leader handle it?
His vessel wasn't bad. The harsh physical abuse that giant religious fanatic put him through every morning was exactly the kind of tempering the body needed.
If the giant religious fanatic hadn't done it, Rem had intended to grind and polish the platoon leader's body through other means. However, the giant’s method seemed more efficient, so he had left it alone.
The vessel was more or less ready.
Still, he had no intention of forcing it. He would beat it into him if possible, but if it proved too much, he would let it go.
"Feel it."
Encrid listened to Rem's words. He listened faithfully.
As always, he maintained a composed mind and an attitude of deep listening.
However, there was something he had already realized.
It was back when he was learning Single-Point Focus from Ragna.
Ragna was a genius. He must have learned everything easily. He must have realized everything with ease.
What did he say back then?
‘Did he say the fear of death boosts concentration?’
That statement was only half-true.
What was actually needed was an opponent who would force him to pour out and unleash every single drop of his abilities from the very bottom of his soul.
It was the same now.
‘No, is it the opposite of back then?’
A conclusion reached alongside a small realization.
It started with what the Heart of Monstrous Strength actually was.
When faced with intense pressure, humans sometimes exerted power beyond their limits. That was indeed possible.
He drew inspiration from that. To achieve the Heart of Monstrous Strength, one had to feel a pressure akin to death.
Through his past battles—indeed, through all the lives he had lived so far—Encrid had accumulated a vast array of experiences. Even more so as he repeated "today," layer upon layer.
This was the conclusion he had reached based on those experiences.
"More."
Something from Rem's hand nudged Encrid's heart.
Originally, Rem had only pressed subtly around Encrid's heart, conveying just enough to give him a sense of the rhythm. At least, that was how it had been until now.
Rem utilized a sorcerous effect from his end—a sensory transfer to transmit the sensation of making the heart race.
"More."
Encrid spoke. His eyes were half-closed, lost in a state of absolute, intense concentration.
"I've told you several times, you have to be careful with this."
The word "careful" came from the mouth of a man called a madman. It sounded like a warning that one wrong move meant death.
Danger, crisis, pressure.
Those were the very things that required caution.
And those were exactly what Encrid needed.
The mindset of holding one's ground at the edge of a cliff with a gale-force wind pressing against his back. A moment where one wrong step meant the end.
A pressure that could never be replicated by a deliberate act like suicide—a moment for the ultimate, desperate struggle.
He needed to be at a crossroads where any mistake would lead to death. And if he could do that while feeling the sensation of his heart racing, that would be the key.
"More."
Encrid spoke again, his eyes still half-closed.
Rem's brow furrowed.
Is this guy completely out of his mind?
Rem was the one usually called a madman, but somehow, the platoon leader seemed far crazier.
"Let's stop."
As he spoke, Rem tried to pull his hand away.
Grab.
Encrid caught Rem's wrist.
With his left hand on Rem's chest and his right hand gripping Rem's wrist against his own heart, Encrid spoke once more.
"Do it."
Because Encrid's gaze was cast downward, Rem couldn't see his eyes.
Has he really lost it?
"Are you insane?"
Rem's eyes grew fierce. This was practically asking Rem to kill him with his own hands. There were things that passion and desire alone could not resolve. There were times when one had to step back and accept their limits...
Rem's thoughts cut off.
A voice pierced through his logic, his reason, and his emotions.
"Just do it."
It was an order. An order that had to be obeyed.
If words possessed power, Rem felt it now. Even without sorcery, spells, or the "power" said to be the exclusive domain of knights.
Deep down, what kind of existence was Encrid to Rem?
Encrid raised his gaze. Their eyes met. It was fire clashing with fire—flames of different colors, yet capable of consuming each other.
Blue fire and gray fire entangled.
They glared at each other as if they would kill one another.
Was there anything to be gained from winning this fight? Nothing. At best, Encrid would end up half-crippled.
Then why?
Even so, Rem simply wanted to do it. He felt compelled to. He had to obey this man's command. He wanted to.
Was it his own instinct that prevented him from turning away? Or was it because he was too intoxicated by the man before him?
"Do it."
Once again, Encrid spoke.
"Ah, goddammit."
Rem spat out a curse and squeezed Encrid's heart. A thought crept up in a corner of his mind that Encrid must have a reason for ordering this.
After rationalizing it to himself, Rem exerted his full power.
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
Surge wildly. Circulate the blood throughout the entire body. The raging pressure of the blood would soon lock onto the heart. And thus, it would unleash a monstrous strength that surpassed all limits.
Thump.
Encrid felt an agonizing pain.
He had been stabbed by swords and spears, pierced by arrows. Having died over and over again, he should have been numb to pain by now. Yet, for some reason, this pain felt entirely different.
Death—or rather, the Ferryman of the Black River—came to mind.
Thump, thump, thu-ump.
Encrid snapped his eyes wide open. Rem stared at those bloodshot eyes.
"Damn it."
Why did I do that? Why did I listen to this guy?
Rem regretted it instantly.
Encrid was satisfied. He smiled. For this small realization would soon serve as a signpost for the path he was to walk.
Thump.
The heart, having exhaled its final beat, stopped. Something activated beyond its limits had struck the heart, forcing it to a halt.
That meant death.
The surroundings began to fade into darkness.
"Stop."
Through the descending gloom, Sachsen's voice could be heard.
"You crazy bastard."
Ragna's voice was there as well.
"Brother, what have you done?"
He felt a rough hand grab his wrist, but... it was already too late.
Neither divine power nor any miraculous medicine could save a person whose heart had stopped, who had already laid down in the cradle of death.
Encrid died.
It was a novel experience. In a way, it could be called suicide. No matter how much he pondered and searched for a way to acquire the Heart of Monstrous Strength, he felt there was no other path.
This was the result of today's desperate struggle, which he had deemed his best option.
Give up on the Heart of Monstrous Strength?
If he had been the type to give up and move on, he would have settled long ago.
He would not settle. He would move forward. Even if only by half a step—and if even that was impossible, then by crawling.
A reverberation contorted his entire body. This was after he had completely overcome the waves of pain.
Splash.
The darkness faded, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the Ferryman of the Black River.
There were no words. Only when the Ferryman willed it could his laughter or voice be heard. Right now, he offered neither.
Encrid merely felt a blank, staring gaze. That gaze was filled with nothing but curiosity and bewilderment.
‘Just what the hell is this bastard?’
*
When Encrid opened his eyes again, it was early dawn. The start of a day just like any other.
Pushing his upper body up from the bed, Encrid let out a deep breath.
"This is absolute dog shit, Rem."
"...I'm awake. I can hear you."
"I know."
"But why are you cursing about dog shit first thing in the morning? Did I show up naked in your dream or something?"
"No, it's just dog shit."
A technique that he could only barely taste by putting his life on the line. What a goddamn ridiculous technique.
Even so.
On the day just before his death—a day Rem could not remember—Encrid had smiled. He had been satisfied. For the moment a path revealed itself was always a source of sheer ecstasy for him.
"Good morning."
Tossing the words out, Encrid stepped outside to begin his day.
"...You said it was dog shit," Rem grumbled behind him, pouting. He thought his platoon leader wasn't normal by any means.
He wasn't wrong.
Encrid welcomed a new day. A spring day, in a season said to be imbued with mana. The world was still in the midst of spring.
Encrid would have to enjoy this spring for the time being. Reshaping his heart anew would be no easy task.
"It really is a good day."
Because it was a day where the signpost was visible, he didn't mind the struggle.
Afterward, Encrid died countless more times.
However, there were also days when he spent the day without dying. An intentional death. Would he just pass on to the next day then? He had wondered, but it seemed to loop back, using his first death as the repeat sign.
Should he call it a branching point triggered by death?
How did this even work? The question arose, but he quickly brushed it aside. What was the point of thinking about it? On the remaining "today," he would just push his body to the limit.
Even though he showed his resolve and spoke with absolute sincerity to Rem every time, the outcome would still vary.
"Trust me and do it."
"No, fuck, do you really think this makes any sense? I'm going out of my mind, seriously."
On the days he succeeded—meaning, the days he convinced Rem—he saw an expression on Rem's face he had never seen before. A strange mix of bewilderment, absurdity, and a look of being intoxicated by something.
"No, what can't be done simply can't be done."
And when facing the opposite moments, he saw an expression of resolute determination.
What was the difference between the two "todays"? There didn't seem to be any major difference. He spoke with the same sincerity.
There was only one difference.
After repeating it about sixty-six times, he had a rough idea. What was lacking beyond sincerity and earnestness?
"Do it."
He had to command. Why did a guy of Rem's caliber follow his words so faithfully? Curiosity reared its head, but he put it off. In time, there would be an opportunity to find out.
But that time was not now.
"Do it."
"Do it."
"Do it."
"Do it."
"I said, do it."
"I told you to do it."
"Just do it."
"Shut up and do your job."
He endured countless "todays." Thus passed today, and today, and today again.
"Huh? What?"
From a certain point, he didn't even need Rem's touch. It was around the time he had surpassed eighty repetitions.
After that, it felt like he was just throwing a wild fit on his own. This was thanks to him mastering the sensation without needing Rem to trigger it.
After repeating it over and over again, the Ferryman of the Black River appeared in his dreams once more.
"That was not a wall."
The Ferryman spoke, and Encrid listened. He still could not reply. Not even a shred of emotion could be detected in the Ferryman's voice.
A ferryboat floating on the Black River, the ferryman, the rippling waves. Encrid was on the boat.
"Go."
At the Ferryman's word, Encrid opened his eyes.
He didn't question the words. Nor did he show any curiosity. When he couldn't even ask why Rem obeyed his commands, what was the point of trying to understand the inner thoughts of a ferryman whose hobby was rowing?
Only the words ‘that was not a wall’ remained deeply engraved in his chest.
What was a wall? It must be an obstacle that forced him to repeat today. The Ferryman's words likely meant that what Encrid was doing now was separate from his own will.
‘So what of it?’
Of course, it was none of Encrid's business. Whether it was deeply engraved or shallowly embedded, he plucked the thought out and threw it away. He had too much to do to worry about trivial matters.
"Good morning, Rem."
Encrid left his greeting and stood up.
"Huh? How did you know I was awake?"
"Just because."
How did he know? He knew because he had repeated this over a hundred times.
The start of a new day.
Encrid activated the Heart of Monstrous Strength.
Thump!
His heart beat, surging power into the muscles of his entire body. His blood raced madly. It was like a horse galloping down a well-paved highway of blood vessels.
Thump.
And his heart did not burst.
"...I'm going to ask you just two things."
Rem spoke from right behind him. Encrid had purposely activated it at the time Rem usually woke up, just to show him. To prove he had succeeded.
"First, are you by any chance from the West? Second..." Rem chose his words carefully. "Are you actually a genius?"
Encrid let out a chuckle. To think such words would come from Rem. He hadn't expected it at all.
"Neither."
When he answered plainly, Rem gave him a look of sheer disbelief.
"But you managed that in a single day?"
To Encrid, it wasn't just a single day. But to Rem, it was. He had just witnessed someone using a technique they hadn't even grasped the concept of only a night before.
With his skin flushed red, Encrid, now equipped with the Heart of Monstrous Strength, spoke. Pondering and being surprised were all well and good, but...
"How about a spar?"
Didn't he feel like moving his body right about now?
"Tsk, fine by me."
Rem agreed. He wasn't the type to dwell on worries either.
Clang.
Sword and axe. They greeted each other. Once again, a spar—yet another moment to measure his growth.