Chapter 153: Unchanging, After All
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 153: Unchanging, After All
“What do you think, Brother?”
This was after Ragna, Frok, and Vengeance had departed.
Audin spoke to the empty air. Though it was a question, his tone and posture made it seem more like a prayer.
Rem replied while idly picking his nose.
“Damn it, he’ll figure it out.”
As he answered, Rem’s mind drifted back. He had once told the squad leader—a man whose only dream was to become a knight—that such a thing was absolutely impossible.
He had told Vengeance there was no need to worry, and he truly believed that. Yet, even so, a sliver of anxiety was bound to remain.
What if he had been told such a thing?
I have no idea.
He had never experienced anything like that. When he was in the West, there were few whose talent could even compare to his. Even among the elite, he was always the best.
To him, it was a meaningless hypothetical.
He’ll do fine.
What was the point of worrying? What was the point of being anxious?
Instead of dwelling on doubt, Rem decided to ponder ways to further train the Heart of Monstrous Strength.
I’ll put him through the wringer when he gets back.
Hardening his resolve, he let his anxiety drift away. It was easier on his peace of mind that way.
Skritch, skritch.
Sachsen mindlessly worked his dagger along the grain of the wood. He was carving something sharp, something protruding. As his hands moved, Sachsen turned Audin’s question over in his mind.
‘You can never become a knight.’
The weight of those words changed depending on who spoke them. What if the one saying it was Frok, the Talent Reader?
Would it be a shock?
By any normal standard, yes. It was a life-altering sentence. If someone told you that the dream you desired most, the goal you had poured every ounce of effort into, was something you could never achieve in your lifetime...
I’d probably slit the throat of the bastard who said it.
Then what about Encrid? What about the squad leader?
Would he waver?
Skritch.
Sachsen continued his work, the dagger biting into the wood. What if the squad leader came back and said he was leaving?
It might actually be a relief.
Then Sachsen could just go his own way.
Skritch. He steadied his mind through the carving. It might be a relief, but it would also be a shame. Could Encrid really become a knight? He wanted to see the end of it. He felt a sliver of curiosity about what the final result of such desperate effort would be.
Lick.
Esther licked her forepaw and groomed her fur, imagining someone telling her she wouldn’t be able to cast spells starting tomorrow.
I’d probably set that person’s mouth on fire.
In her younger days, she would have done exactly that and more. Those were the days when people called her a witch.
Worry? Anxiety? In the time spent on such things, she would rather chant another spell. It was a trivial concern. Even if Encrid left everything behind and walked away, it didn’t matter much to Esther. What she needed was the curse-dispelling effect that occurred in the embrace of the man named Encrid.
It wasn’t his sword or his martial prowess she cared about. His dream was none of her business.
However...
It would be a shame, though.
He was the first person she had ever met who lived with such burning passion. A lingering sense of regret remained at the thought of him breaking. Still, she had no intention of influencing his decision. She wouldn’t manifest in his dreams to persuade him, nor would she consume her gathered mana to intervene.
Still.
She felt like manifesting in his dream tonight, at least. She wanted to sing him a lullaby she had heard when she was very, very young—a melody that brought peace to the mind.
Audin, the squad member built like a bear, remained deep in thought. He believed there was a very high probability that a change would occur in the squad leader.
Is that only natural, Lord?
Perhaps it would have been better when he was stubbornly swinging his sword in ignorance. The same trials often came to those who wished to become paladins, and Audin had watched them unfold many times.
Just when they were starting to understand something. Just when they could feel their own growth.
That was when the most terrifying trial began.
How did a dullard feel when looking at a talent that had surpassed them? What about the moment one opened their eyes anew, only to be called a "late-blooming genius" who would still never reach the top?
There were those who, harboring the heart of a serpent out of envy and jealousy, ultimately left the Lord’s embrace.
Lord, did You say You give trials to those who need them? Then this, too, must be a necessary trial, right? Surely it is.
It was a prayer murmured in the silence of his heart.
A subtle tension hung in the barracks. No anxiety was openly shown, but it was there. If anything, it would have been better if a guy like Vengeance came in and babbled. Then they could at least argue back, telling him he didn’t know the squad leader.
Ragna must have followed Encrid out of anxiety as well.
The spring sunlight streamed through the square window, fading as the hours passed. In the dimming light, dust motes danced in the air. If Krais had been here, he would have complained that they needed to clean.
By the time evening arrived and the dust vanished into the shadows, just as hunger began to gnaw at them...
The squad members and Esther kept their silence, each tending to their own tasks. Rem tossed and caught his axe.
Whoosh, thud.
The sound pierced the silence—the axe spinning through the air and the dull thud of it hitting his palm. Audin remained kneeling, motionless. Sachsen carved with a rhythmic skritch-scratch, and Esther continued to groom herself.
It was that kind of moment.
The squad leader had always said that eating was just as important as training. It was time for him to return.
Thud. Creak.
As the door opened, every eye snapped toward the entrance. The axe stopped spinning; the carving knife went still. Perfect silence fell.
“...What? Were you guys waiting for me?”
Finn asked, stopping halfway through the door. Seeing the strange atmosphere, she stared blankly.
“Could you move out of the way instead of blocking the door?”
Encrid’s voice came from behind her. Finn stepped inside and moved aside.
Naturally, everyone’s gaze shifted to Encrid.
*
The sword, the knight, the dream.
What he had seen and experienced through Aisia...
Desire burned once more in Encrid’s eyes. That heat reached Ragna as well. It was a passion that could be felt just by looking at him.
As expected.
If he were a man who would waver and give up, he wouldn’t have been able to inspire Ragna in the first place.
“Emitting light from a sword and cutting down hundreds of people in a single blow is something even a knight cannot do. However, one who has received the title of knight, or one who has attained a comparable enlightenment, can slash and pierce hundreds to death in succession, no matter what they hold in their hand.”
Ragna was surprised by how much more eloquent his own words sounded than usual. It made sense, though. Since Encrid had declared his dream was to become a knight, Ragna had known he would have to say this someday.
These were words he had prepared long ago.
Once, he had told Encrid to wait, saying it wasn’t time yet. It was right after they saw the Associate Knight active on the battlefield. Now, it was time to keep that promise. It was time to give an answer to the one who waited.
“How is that possible?”
It was a question Ragna himself had once harbored. Of course, he had resolved that question quickly. For him, it was a set path; all he had to do was walk it.
But what was so simple for him was a path that someone else had to pour blood and sweat into just to see the start of. That gap—and the other’s desire burning despite it—lit a fire in Ragna’s own chest.
“To become a knight, they say you must filter a thousand from ten thousand talents, and then a hundred from those thousand. Only when you filter ten from those hundred does the goal finally come into view. There are many who are good with a sword. Quite a few cross their limits. But those who realize ‘Will’ are rare.”
This was why the internal members of a knightly order numbered only in the dozens.
“My, wouldn’t knowing that make him even more frustrated?” Frok added from behind. He had sat down on the floor, resting his arms on his knees like a spectator. Ragna ignored him. Encrid ignored him too.
Encrid focused entirely on Ragna’s words, engraving them into his mind. This was the moment a new signpost was carved onto the path he had to walk.
“Will is the collective term for the power that allows a knight to display superhuman strength. To put it another way, Will is willpower, and willpower is Will. The first step to realizing this is to reach the limits of humanity.”
Out of all the talent in the world, only a tiny minority experience crossing their limits. And after crossing that limit, only a fraction of that minority realizes Will. The number could be one in ten thousand. Sometimes, it wasn't even that.
Will—some called it willpower, others called it a mystery—was an unknown entity. It was the power a knight obtained after surpassing human limits.
In conclusion: without Will, one could not become a knight. That was what Ragna was saying.
“And once you reach the limit?”
Greed, desire, and a tangle of emotions moved Encrid’s mouth.
“That is when it begins. Realizing Will after that is, well...”
Ragna stopped mid-sentence, swallowing his words. Was his method correct? He didn’t know. Should he say everything he knew? Ragna felt his own knowledge was narrow. Would this be enough?
As doubt arose, he faltered. Surprisingly, Frok filled the gap.
“Some realize it after swinging a sword ten thousand times alone. Some realize it after endless meditation. Some awaken the moment they encounter another's Will. So, how was it? Aisia’s Intimidation?”
Frok explained and then asked. Encrid’s gaze shifted toward the man's bulging, frog-like eyes.
“I saw an illusion of blades rushing in.”
How should he describe it? It sounded childish when put into words. A storm of blades? A tsunami of steel?
“You have good intuition,” Frok said, letting out a croaking laugh. “But no matter what you say, my opinion remains firm. I told you, you can’t do it.”
Frok rested his chin on his hand. Was there ever a time when Frok’s Talent Reading was wrong?
Yes. Nothing in this world was absolute. Frok was no exception. He was not a god.
But even so, some things were plain to see. Possibility—there had to be at least a sliver of it for a goal to be feasible. But in the man named Encrid, no such thing could be seen. Not even a little. In fact, it was already a miracle that he had reached his current level of skill.
He must have crossed the threshold of death countless times.
Frok’s sharp intuition told him that there must have been hundreds of life-or-death moments behind this man’s skill. This level of mastery was achieved only by barely surviving those moments.
And yet...
There was no wavering in the gaze of the man before him. Encrid, with his black hair and striking blue eyes, remained steady.
How could this be?
Croak.
Frok’s cheeks puffed up and deflated. This time, it was admiration. Frok’s emotional shifts always manifested through his cheeks, though to a human, it was impossible to tell if it was anger, joy, or sadness.
Encrid suddenly recalled his old memories. Everyone who had ever told him he couldn’t do it.
It had always been that way. They said the path he trod was wrong. The whole world said "no."
Yes, it had always been that way. So, this time was no different.
“Is that so?”
A flat reply, polite enough to respect the other’s status. It was exactly that and nothing more. Whatever Frok’s purpose was, Encrid would walk his own path. That was his duty, his journey toward the dream he could never forget.
He was a wanderer searching for his dream. A man walking the path of wandering, searching for signposts.
“Then, may I ask the next question? How do I reach the limit?”
Encrid turned his gaze back to Ragna. Ragna was amazed by how he remained unchanging, after all. He was amazed even though he knew the man, and perhaps amazed precisely because he knew him.
“You polish every technique you possess. Since only you can know when you reach your own limit, you will eventually reach the human boundary, and the moment you reach that limit...”
Ragna’s words began to tangle. It was just like usual. Encrid nodded and cut him off.
“Ah, I see.”
It meant to keep doing what he had been doing.
Encrid understood it that way. Ragna had explained it plausibly at first, only to clutter the end with difficult words again. Why make the instruction to “keep doing what you’ve been doing” sound so complicated?
“Hey, isn’t this the part where you fall to your knees and lament, ‘Is my talent only this much?’” Frok asked, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t have time for that,” Encrid replied flatly.
He swung his sword. Reflecting on what he had, reviewing it, and moving forward. It was what he had always done.
That guy is definitely a lunatic.
Frok’s cheeks puffed up even more. The croaking sound grew louder. This time, it was an expression of intense curiosity.
Ragna watched Encrid. Frok looked at the man who had become the reason for his staying. The man with black hair and blue eyes—his target was not Ragna. It had been Encrid from the very beginning. This was not Talent Reading, but pure intuition born of experience.
Types like him are the ones who end up causing trouble.
He couldn’t become a knight. Then, what would he become? That stimulated Frok’s curiosity.
I could watch him a bit longer.
Thus, Frok decided to stay.
And Encrid swung his sword. As always, once more, repeatedly. Whether Frok watched or Ragna watched, he trained his basics. The signpost was visible again.
His faded dream was beginning to take on color. While everyone else worried about frustration and despair, Encrid alone saw hope.
They called it Will. Some called it willpower, but they said it was a kind of mystery.
All he had to do was master it. They told him to reach the limit and surpass it.
Was that such a big deal? It was what he had been doing all along, countless times. That was all.