Chapter 138: He Had to Endure
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 138: He Had to Endure
"Do you absolutely have to use two swords?"
The question came after their sparring session. Rem was the one asking.
He was drenched in sweat—or rather, Encrid was. Rem, of course, looked perfectly fine.
"Yes."
Encrid nodded, sitting flat on the ground. Rem opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. To be precise, he swallowed his next words the moment he saw Encrid's expression.
He had been prepared to say things like:
Should I explain to you how fucking stupid dual-wielding is?
Did you think having two swords meant your attacks would magically double?
Stop fooling around and just use one. Listen to me before I split that blue sword of yours in half with my axe.
Rem held his tongue, pressing it quietly against the roof of his mouth as he thought.
Well, I did get an axe as a gift.
The axe Encrid had brought him was of surprisingly high quality. Its faint blue sheen was proof that high-grade iron had been properly forged. It was definitely Valerian steel. Judging by its durability and temper, this axe would last him a long time.
He liked it a lot. Therefore:
I'll let it slide.
Of course, the axe was just an excuse. In truth, he had given up on nagging because of the look on Encrid’s face.
Whenever he made that face—whenever he muttered about his dream of becoming a knight, how today was a good day to swing a sword, or how he would train in his spare time regardless of whether they were on a battlefield—a stubborn streak showed.
Or perhaps it was resolve? Though "resolve" sounded a bit too grand for how excessively nonchalant he actually was. Regardless, beneath that nonchalance lay a line in the sand that no one was allowed to cross.
Rem had such a line himself. And so far, Encrid was the only one who had respected it.
If he keeps at it and his hands get tangled, his progress stalls, and he gets caught up in his own mess... well, he'll quit then.
Lately, there had been a lot of talk about Encrid being a late-blooming genius, or finally awakening at the age of thirty.
Is that thanks to me? Sure, maybe a little.
But fundamentally, if one dug deeper, it was more accurate to say Encrid had achieved it all on his own. At least, that was what Rem believed.
Encrid never gave up, not even for a moment. He never despaired. Without even giving despair a second thought, he stubbornly forged ahead. He moved forward, even if he had to crawl.
The phrase came back to him. Was it because of these qualities that Rem found himself watching him? Or was it because Encrid was so different from him?
Rem was a wanderer who had abandoned everything. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he had been born with everything, including talent.
I threw it away.
He had turned his back and walked away. On the other hand, his platoon leader—this nonchalant, stubborn man—was not like him. All he held in his hand was a sword. A single, sharp sword. That was all.
Yet, he walked. He walked without knowing what lay at the end of that path, and without questioning his qualifications to walk it. He never whined about the difficulty. Because it was a path he had chosen for himself, he simply said he enjoyed it.
What kind of person could be like this?
Rem's feelings were complicated. Learning the Heart of Monstrous Strength in a single day? Sure, it was surprising, but he could accept it. Geniuses existed in this world, even if it was strange to see his own platoon leader act like one.
I guided him directly, demonstrated it, and even monitored his condition.
With that much help, it was only right that he could at least mimic it. However, that attitude toward life was truly difficult to mimic.
At the end of his thoughts, Rem moved his tongue from the roof of his mouth and spoke.
"I think I’ve taken a liking to you, Platoon Leader."
"...Did someone poison your rations?"
"I mean you're fun to beat up."
"Ah, right. That's more like you."
Encrid brushed it off as nothing. As he watched his platoon leader, a certain lazy, grumbling bastard with no sense of direction poked his head in.
"Sparring over?"
"I think I fucking hate you."
Rem spoke with all his heart. Since there must be no misunderstanding, he said it with absolute, genuine sincerity. Just as Encrid would have said it.
"Yeah, me too."
Ragna nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. He sounded like he thoroughly agreed. Ragna had a rather pretty face to begin with, and seeing him smile only made Rem want to smash it in even more.
"The feeling is mutual."
Then, a sly wildcat of a man, who had appeared out of nowhere with his arms crossed, chimed in. For someone who usually kept his mouth shut, he sure was talkative today.
"Brother. All things in this world rest within the Lord's embrace. Of course, the Lord also touches the individual hearts of men. Yes, as a human myself, how could I hide my feelings just because I am a servant of the Lord? I feel the same way. Haha."
The massive religious fanatic said this while stripping off his shirt. Rem found it incredibly annoying. It was wrapped in fancy words, but it was basically the same as saying, "I fucking hate you too." Why did he have to ramble on like that?
Even though these eyesores were chiming in, Rem felt good for some reason—some completely inexplicable reason. That was just what happened when one looked at a man like Encrid.
Riding that pleasant mood, and feeling a bit excited, Rem decided to show some consideration and grace.
"Kid!"
Andrew flinched at Rem's voice, but he quickly stood up with dignity.
'To build up the enemy in my mind is to view them as greater than they are. To view them as greater is to lose before the battle even begins.'
Steeling his resolve, Andrew drew his sword.
Shring.
"I like you, kid. You're quick on the uptake."
Rem stepped firmly onto the ground and approached Andrew. His razor-sharp axe swung back and forth like a pendulum from his shoulder. The swaying blade was chilling.
"...If you beg for your life midway through, I will intervene," Mac said from behind.
Andrew nodded. He was a grateful presence. From helping him rebuild his family to repeatedly facing Rem alongside him lately, Mac was a pillar of support.
But Mac, why are you backing away as you speak?
Huh? If you back up that far, won't it be hard to help in an emergency? I feel like you're getting way too far.
"You can do this, Lord Gardner. You are the sole hero who will rebuild the Gardner family."
Why are you saying that from so far away? And why are you suddenly calling me Gardner? Didn't you usually call me Andrew and speak casually? I'm pretty sure you did.
Mac kept backing away until he finally stopped near Encrid. If one wanted to escape the madmen of this platoon, there was only one sanctuary, and that was right there.
Andrew could not head toward that sanctuary. Along with his last remaining pride, it was undeniable that the more he clashed with this crazy barbarian, the more his skills improved.
For tomorrow, not today. Just as he had learned by watching his platoon leader.
"Let's do this, you arrogant barbarian."
"Huh? Did you say I could cut off one of your arms?"
Rem's dull gray eyes gleamed with genuine intent.
"Bullshit!"
Andrew struggled desperately. Desperation was his only option.
*
Encrid watched all of this while sitting on the ground. He had given his all against Rem. With two swords, he had done his absolute best.
The Heart of Monstrous Strength had indeed granted unbelievable power to his arms. It was a dramatic increase in physical strength. Even so, he couldn't call it proper dual-wielding yet. He hadn't been able to push Rem back as much as he did when wielding a single sword. He felt a lack of training.
I'm not used to it yet, Encrid thought, looking down at his heavily calloused palms.
He wasn't blaming his lack of talent. He simply realized that he needed time. Then what should he do?
"Are you going to rest?"
The answer was right in front of him. Ragna asked the question, showing an unprecedented level of enthusiasm.
Why? He didn't know why Ragna was only like this with him, but it wasn't a bad thing. Not at all. Knowing this all too well, Encrid placed his hands on his thighs—which were sure to bruise from Rem's kicks—and stood up.
"No."
A nod. As if he had expected nothing less, Ragna nodded and drew his sword.
"Are you going with two?"
"Yes."
Ragna didn't ask further. It was strange. He had expected both Rem and Ragna to stop him if he tried to use two swords at once. If not those two, then at least Sachsen or Audin. Furthermore, with him wielding the swords so clumsily, even Andrew, Mac, or Krais could have said something.
Yet, no one opened their mouth to criticize him. It was truly bizarre. Still, he didn't question it. Instead, he swung his swords, tightening his grip on both.
The most effective way to use two swords—since deep thought was the only answer, he pondered and devised. He hadn't been idling around all this time. While integrating the Heart of Monstrous Strength into his body, he had also trained in handling two swords.
Even so, it was clumsy. It felt like a statue that, no matter how much he carved, still refused to reveal its shape. Thus, Encrid's hands were busy, clumsy, and chaotic.
Ragna deflected each of Encrid's strikes, ending the fight in a manner similar to Rem. In other words, he seized an overwhelming victory and subdued him.
"Hmm."
Ragna started to say something, then stopped and closed his mouth.
"Whew... whew... haah..."
Out of breath, Encrid rested his right hand on his thigh, drove the sword in his left hand into the ground, and let his sweat drip. He was bent half-double, his head hanging toward the ground. The sweat pooling on his forehead ran down the tip of his nose and dripped onto the dirt.
What should this be called? Brutal training? Compared to that...
His limbs trembled violently. It was the side effect of the Heart of Monstrous Strength, which momentarily broke the limits of his muscles. While Ragna remained silent, Audin stepped in.
"You overexerted yourself, Brother Platoon Leader."
Encrid slightly raised his head to look at Audin. Audin spoke with his usual smile—the same smile he wore when using the Isolation Technique.
What is this? That expression is usually the one he wears when hiding a devilish scheme.
"It means you must rest."
"Rest?"
"You must not practice the Isolation Technique either, Brother."
What's going on? Usually, he's a man itching to push me harder and torment me more.
"I'll talk to you later. Sometime later," Ragna said, lost in his own thoughts.
Encrid tried to stand up, only to collapse sideways. As if waiting for this, Audin supported him.
"Let us go inside."
"Don't we have guard duty or a mission today?"
"Even if we do, you cannot go out, Brother Platoon Leader."
Is that so?
Encrid was also vaguely aware of it. The Heart of Monstrous Strength was a good weapon. A good technique. Instantly boosting his physical strength served as a foundation that would allow him to clash swords even with monsters like Frok. If his skill allowed, he could even withstand a Giant's Strike like Rem did.
The sight of Rem's back as he stood in front of the giant had been deeply impressive. To the point of being slightly envious. Having witnessed that, giving up on the Heart of Monstrous Strength was out of the question.
Audin supported Encrid.
"I need to wash up first."
Even with his limbs trembling violently, Encrid carefully packed his gear.
"Seriously, why do you guys do nothing but fight every single day?" Krais grumbled from the side. Yet, his hands moved busily to help Encrid. "Go wash up. I'll maintain your gear."
"Mine?"
"How many years do you think I've been eating military black bread? Do you know how many krona I've earned just from maintaining gear? I'm probably better at this than most blacksmiths."
Come to think of it, he was right. When there were no women, tobacco, or anything else to sell, what did Krais do? He would frequently tour the barracks of other units. His gear maintenance was both a way to easily make friends with soldiers from other units and a talent that earned him side income.
Except for those who treated their weapons like lovers, weapon maintenance was undeniably a tedious chore for most. Encrid also cherished his weapons—both his sword and armor—but Krais was trustworthy.
Indeed, by the time Encrid returned from washing up, Krais had even polished his sword to a shine.
"If I draw this on a moonlit night, it'll be a great signal to let everyone know where I am."
"That's a compliment, right?"
"Yes."
"Sometimes, Leader, your compliments are... well, very much like you," Krais said.
Before Encrid could ask what he meant by that, Audin approached. Encrid had just dried off and sat on his cot. When Audin's massive frame cast a shadow over him, a startled Krais quickly backed away.
"What the— Ah, Audin? What is it?"
"I have business with Brother Platoon Leader."
A bright, beaming smile. It was a bear's smile, the smile of a massive beast of prey, or perhaps the smile of a devil plotting something.
This is bad, Encrid thought.
Soon, Audin's hands touched Encrid's body.
"If you overwork your muscles, they are bound to knot up. There is a way to release those knots. This will be the technique I teach you this time."
At the mention of teaching and learning, Encrid's defensive attitude shifted.
"What is it?"
A grin. A smile instead of a name. As expected, it was ominous, and his foreboding proved correct.
"Ngh... Argh... Urgh..."
As Audin's fingers began to press and twist various parts of his body, Encrid felt an excruciating pain. His vision went black. He felt as if he could faintly see the Ferryman of the Black River. It was as if he had dipped his feet into the river of death and returned. A pain worthy of such a journey gouged and pressed throughout his entire body.
"It is a method to release knotted muscles. When I learned it, it was commonly referred to as 'Blood, Sweat, and Tears.'"
Is that the name of the technique? There's no way.
However, he couldn't even dare to ask right now. Even as the searing pain surged through his body once more, he had no room to speak. A time of pain arrived, so intense that he couldn't even scream properly.
Of course, since it was absolutely not the kind of pain that would ruin his body, he had to endure.