Chapter 152: What Makes a Knight Different?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 152: What Makes a Knight Different?
On her way back, Aisia couldn't help but think he was rather unique.
'I think he's the first.'
A man who didn't even know how to wield a knight's power, yet he had endured it with nothing but his raw physical will.
He hadn't overcome her 'Intimidation.' He had merely endured it.
No—when it was all over, he had even managed to take a step forward by about half a finger's width.
As an Associate Knight, her sharp gaze had caught even the slightest movement of her opponent. He had tried to move forward. To advance.
How many soldiers could do that? Were there even any?
Probably not.
'Well, if he ever awakens, he'll probably become a monster.'
But how could that be easy?
'Let's not worry about it.'
That bastard Frok was still there, so he would handle it. She had been asked for a favor, and she had done her part. Once she returned, that was the end of it.
Just like that, Aisia put Encrid out of her mind. There was no need to remember him. Though she had quite liked his spirit and stubborn determination—and his face, in particular, had been to her liking.
'We probably won't meet again.'
Talent was a cold, cruel thing. The Goddess of Fortune was always unfair.
Clop, clop.
Her horse kicked the ground with its hooves and surged forward. It was time to go back.
* * *
'Why?'
Vengeance felt a strange sense of unease gnawing at him.
An Order Knight had come to see Encrid. She had tested his skills, and even Frok, the Talent Reader, had arrived. As a result, harsh words had been exchanged.
'Why go that far?'
Did they want him to lose his motivation? Did they hate seeing him so engrossed in training? It was hard to fathom what Battalion Commander Marcus was thinking. Why stir up trouble for Encrid when he was just keeping to himself?
Telling him to quit because he could never become a knight? Because his limits were set in stone?
Why? Why go out of their way to do that?
Vengeance didn't know what Encrid's dream was. Nor did he know about the conversation between Encrid and Battalion Commander Marcus. It was only natural for him to have these questions. While Encrid had never hidden his faded dream, he wasn't the type to whisper it into the ear of everyone he met, either.
"That bastard Battalion Commander has a personality like trash," Vengeance muttered.
Cursing Marcus under his breath, Vengeance headed toward Encrid's quarters.
Knock, knock.
"It's Vengeance."
"Oh? If it isn't the ugly Platoon Leader. What brings you here?"
When he knocked, Rem came out and immediately grated on his nerves. Vengeance had to ignore him. If he engaged, the bastard would probably just pick a fight.
And the result of that? With Encrid, it would end with a knee to the thigh, but with Rem, it was hard to even imagine. In short, picking a fight with him was a terrible idea.
"Where's Enki?"
"Sleeping."
Wasn't he unconscious, not just sleeping?
But why was this bastard so nonchalant? Vengeance had expected him to be raving about chopping off Marcus's head with an axe for breaking his Platoon Leader's spirit.
Then again, if Rem were the type to sit in his quarters getting worked up and angry, he would have already swung his axe long ago. He was exactly that kind of guy.
Stepping inside, he saw that the man named Ragna was asleep again. Wondering if he was truly asleep, Vengeance looked closer; he was in a deep slumber. He wasn't snoring, but his chest rose and fell with steady, peaceful breaths.
Sachsen was off to one side, carefully rolling tobacco leaves. He was quite dedicated.
He had heard that a woman named Finn had joined them, but she was currently away. Krais wasn't there either. Only Frok, whom he had seen during the morning watch, was visible.
It was almost noon, lunchtime. Had he decided to just set up camp here? The atmosphere was unexpectedly peaceful, which felt bizarre.
Shouldn't they comfort him when he woke up? Or at least not bring it up at all? Were they planning to just gloss over it as if nothing had happened?
As Vengeance cleared his throat, feeling awkward, Encrid woke up right on cue. Opening his eyes, Encrid slowly sat up.
"Oh, you're awake," Vengeance was the first to react.
Right after him, Rem blurted out instantly, "They say you can't become a knight. They say you don't have a shred of potential—not even as much as a ghoul's brain."
"Brother, are you awake? Please, have some of this."
Beside him, the fellow named Audin offered some bread. It was a white, moist-looking bread, though where he had gotten it was a mystery. Vengeance wondered if he had bought it from the decent bakery that had recently opened in the territory.
No, wait—was this really the time for such things?
Ragna kept sleeping. Sachsen neatly packed his meticulously rolled tobacco leaves into a leather pouch.
"Ah, I see."
Encrid was calm. He replied nonchalantly, took a bite of the bread, stood up, and headed outside.
Frok, who had been watching silently, spoke up. "They said you can't become a knight. Are you alright with that?"
Turning his head back, Encrid nodded slowly. "Yes, well."
He didn't know the man's identity, but if he had come with an Associate Knight, he had to be at least an Order Knight. Furthermore, as a Talent Reader, Frok likely held a status equivalent to nobility.
Encrid spoke after a brief thought. He didn't look shocked in the slightest.
Vengeance, who had somehow ended up blocking the entrance to the quarters, blinked and stared at Encrid.
"Are you here for a rematch after last night's sparring?" Encrid asked.
"No, it's not that."
The words "I came because I was worried" wouldn't easily leave his mouth.
"What's this? Ugly Platoon Leader, did you come here sharpening your blade of vengeance? Then bring it on," Rem egged him on for no reason, but Vengeance didn't take the bait.
Had he already tried? The bruise on his thigh hadn't even faded yet.
Encrid walked out. Vengeance stared blankly at his retreating back before turning around.
"Aren't you guys... going to comfort him or something?" Vengeance asked.
Even if not comfort, what about showing some concern? What if he decided to lay down his sword? What if he gave up? What if he fell into despair because they needlessly poked at his lack of talent?
Vengeance knew this was a ridiculous situation. Who was he to step forward and act like this? What did it matter to him whether Encrid quit or not? He was simply bothered by the situation he had accidentally witnessed. No one had told him to do this, nor was it a calculated move. That was just how his heart felt. He simply couldn't stand by and watch.
At Vengeance's words, Rem cackled. That laugh was just like always. It wasn't forced.
"Comfort who? The Platoon Leader?" Rem said.
"Haha, Brother, you really don't know our Platoon Leader, do you?" Audin added.
"The Platoon Leader is just the Platoon Leader," even Sachsen chimed in.
"Yawn... Where's the Platoon Leader?" Ragna, who had just woken up, asked casually. Vengeance reflexively pointed outside.
"He went out. Training?"
Who knew? Without even waiting for an answer, Ragna cracked his neck from side to side, grabbed his sword, and moved. Vengeance stepped aside once more. Ragna walked out without so much as a goodbye.
What was this? He felt subtly ignored.
"The Platoon Leader will be perfectly fine," Rem finished.
Hearing this, Frok reacted. "How can you be so sure?"
"Experience."
After the brief exchange, Frok soon got up and brushed himself off. Experience—meaning he would understand once he saw for himself. So, he just had to go out and watch. To see how this guy, Encrid, actually behaved.
Right after Ragna left, Frok headed outside as well.
Vengeance's mind was a mess. Could someone really be completely unaffected after hearing such things?
"What do you think our Platoon Leader's skills used to be like? Does his current level even make sense? What do you think, ugly Platoon Leader?" Rem's voice drifted over again. Rolling around on his cot, he spotted Esther and tried to poke her with his finger for no reason.
Esther bared her claws and swiped at him, but Rem quickly pulled his finger back, dodging the strike. Esther's blue eyes glared at Rem. Rem smiled and showed his palms, signaling he would stop his pointless teasing.
Staring at them, Vengeance muttered a half-hearted reply and turned around.
'Must be nice to be handsome, you bastard.'
It was probably something along those lines. Why did the bastard keep calling him ugly? Looking at Rem also made him feel a surge of irritation. How could someone so skilled also look like that?
Well, there was one saving grace. His personality was incredibly bizarre. They weren't called the Mad Independent Platoon for nothing. No matter how he looked at it, his own personality was much better. It was just that the world didn't recognize it.
Heading back to his own quarters, Vengeance was lost in thought. In particular, Rem's last words kept ringing in his ears.
Step, step.
It didn't make sense. No matter how much he thought about it, it made absolutely no sense. Especially his rate of growth.
What was the original Encrid like? He was a pitiful fool who swung his sword every day, struggling desperately without making any progress.
"If I were him, I would've retired long ago."
The watching soldiers used to say things like that. It was a memory Vengeance still held. Back then, there were quite a few bastards who openly ridiculed Encrid.
"But how did that dumbass become a Squad Leader? Damn, is his asshole made of gold or something?"
There was even a bastard who said something that made his stomach turn with disgust. Even though Vengeance hadn't liked Encrid back then, he had beaten that guy to a pulp.
Because he had hated it all—that bastard, the words coming out of his mouth, Encrid, and even Encrid's stubborn determination to swing his sword every single day.
There were many who had insulted Encrid back then. Coincidentally, one of them caught his eye right now.
"Hey, you."
At his call, the soldier approached. "Yes, Platoon Leader."
"Do you think Platoon Leader Encrid's current skills make any sense?"
"...Excuse me?"
"His skills."
"Uh, well, he's gotten stronger."
In the eyes of the soldier who used to insult Encrid, a different emotion was now mixed: admiration and zeal.
"Why did he get stronger?"
"Pardon?"
'What is this idiot talking about?'
Reading that thought on the soldier's face, Vengeance shook his head. "Never mind."
Vengeance dismissed him and thought. In truth, there was only one reason. His daily, stubborn determination. And what made that determination possible?
'He doesn't know how to give up.'
He knew neither frustration nor despair. That was likely the reason Vengeance couldn't bring himself to hate Encrid, even while disliking him.
The reason he disliked him, and the reason he liked him. He didn't turn back. He didn't retreat. He moved forward, painting a picture of the future. He dreamed. A man who forged ahead for the sake of his own life.
That was why he shone. That was why he drew others to his light.
"Damn it."
Vengeance suddenly felt an urge to swing his sword. He wanted to hold out a few more exchanges the next time they sparred. He decided to make that his goal.
Casting his worries aside, Vengeance began to swing his sword. It was time to train. He joined the feverish wave of training sweeping through the unit.
* * *
The first thought Encrid had upon waking was this:
'Training.'
He had completely missed his morning training, even though he had an especially long list of things to do today.
From the Isolation Technique to the Sense of Evasion, the Beast's Heart, Single-Point Focus, the Heart of Monstrous Strength, the Blade's Sense, Valaf-style Martial Arts, and training his Basic Sword Forms.
'Since I missed the morning training, I'll have to push those tasks to the afternoon.'
He would have to cut down on his rest. He knew rest was important, but this was an exceptional circumstance. His time had vanished because he had been unconscious since morning.
For now, he pushed aside all questions about what trick Associate Knight Aisia had pulled. He had to do what needed to be done first. The daily repetition. The start of the training he must never forget.
He had opened his eyes to hear some strange talk about how he could never become a knight. He had wondered why Vengeance had even come.
Chewing on the bread Audin had handed him, he stepped out to the training ground and began repeating his techniques.
"Phew."
It didn't take long for him to be drenched in sweat. His undergarments were soaked in no time. For someone who had just woken up from being knocked unconscious, his head didn't feel heavy, nor did he feel any pain. Even though at that exact moment, it had felt like he was going to die.
While focusing on his training, his thoughts continued to flow. Since he wielded two swords, he had grown accustomed to doing multiple things at once.
'What on earth was that?'
He, too, could now project his momentum. He had once frozen a cat in place with nothing but a glare. But he couldn't make an opponent see an invisible illusion.
Yet, Encrid had seen such an illusion. Blades—a storm of countless blades. A storm of blades through which he couldn't take a single step forward. A coercion that forced him to either retreat or die.
It was an urging, a demand. It was as if Aisia's blade itself were speaking to him. Had she even drawn her sword back then? He didn't think so.
"Fuuu."
He let out a deep breath, steadying his respiration. Once again, it was training, training, and more training.
It was around the time he was finishing up his delayed morning training.
"They said you can't become a knight. Aren't you shocked?" It was Frok. He strode over and asked.
"Shocked?"
Shocked? About what? He asked back, genuinely wondering.
"Well, I'll be." Frok scratched his nose with a thick finger. "You're an interesting fellow."
Right after Frok spoke, Ragna approached from behind.
"What did you see?"
Encrid turned his gaze toward Ragna. Ragna walked over and raised his sword, holding it vertically to cover his face. The flat of the blade covered half his face, leaving only the other half visible. His reflection was faintly cast on the steel.
It was not yet evening. The sunlight cast a tranquil glow over the surroundings. Amidst the slowly fading sunlight stood Ragna.
When Encrid stopped swinging his sword and looked at him, Ragna spoke again.
"What makes a knight different?"
The words that followed did not sound like a question. Encrid assumed a listening posture. Neither of them cared whether Frok was listening beside them.
What was it that the knight had shown him? What Ragna was speaking of was exactly what he had been dying to know. He had intended to ask after finishing his training, but since Ragna had brought it up first, it was time to listen.