Chapter 155: Luagarne the Frok
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 155: Luagarne the Frok
Luagarne, a Frok, watched in silence as the man swung his sword.
The blade fell in a straight line.
Top to bottom.
Swoosh.
The sound of tearing air echoed. The scent of iron tickled her nose.
Luagarne’s talent-reading eyes remained fixed on his blade, dissecting every movement.
He was solemn. Cautious.
Even though he performed the same swing every hour of every day, he somehow managed to pour his absolute best into every single moment.
After breakfast, the man swung his sword. When he finally put it down, he threw himself into physical conditioning. He performed endless squats while hoisting heavy boulders. After lunch, he returned to his sword. Even when he went to relieve himself, his grip never left the hilt.
Occasionally, he incorporated reaction training, like dodging thrown stones, and he sparred frequently. His opponents were his own squad members—and without exception, every single one of them was vastly superior to him in skill.
‘Are they at their limits? No, have they already surpassed them?’
How did her talent-reading eyes work?
Observation and insight. Posture and attitude. The rate of improvement. These were the foundations of what she saw, but to put it bluntly, it was a matter of intuition. It was the realm of the sixth sense—instinct.
She understood how to discern potential within that realm because she had seen those who lived on the edge before. It was a skill born of experience, and in that regard, Luagarne was exceptional even among the Frok.
She had seen countless bastards who had surpassed their limits through the simple swing of a blade. Having watched them over and over, she could gauge a person’s potential at a glance.
And Luagarne’s instinct repeatedly whispered to her:
‘That man can never become a knight.’
To reach the rank of a knight, the very first step is reaching the absolute limits of human capability. Even that requires a talent found in only one out of hundreds. But that is merely the starting point. Next, one must cross that line. That requires a talent found in only one out of thousands.
And after meeting the limit and surpassing it...
‘One must awaken Will.’
Most are blocked here. This is a path that cannot be breached by mere talent alone. The irony was that those with outstanding talent usually set their own limits too low. They made her doubt whether their "best" was truly their best.
Simply put: ‘Those who actually work hard are rare.’
Thus, when Luagarne read talent, she looked for two things. First, the physical talent to use the body. Second, the will to move forward—the strength to forge through a tedious, grueling path without becoming arrogant or complacent.
The second talent could not be read by intuition alone; one had to observe them over time. Of course, if they didn't possess the first, there was no need to look for the second.
‘And yet, why?’
Luagarne’s eyes kept returning to the man who swung his sword morning and night, getting beaten black and blue in spars as he trained relentlessly.
Of course, his appearance played a part as well. The Frok possessed a unique aesthetic sense; they did not judge human beauty by conventional standards. In that sense, Encrid and his squad members passed with flying colors.
‘Indeed.’
They were more than enough.
Encrid had black hair and blue eyes, his posture upright and straight. To use Luagarne’s own expression, he was a man with a magnificent back.
Then there was the one named Rem. If one were to judge talent, Rem and the others passed in every aspect except for "Will." However, Will was often a matter of luck. A Frok’s eyes saw potential, not the future.
Regardless of talent, they were pleasing to watch. Rem’s gray hair and unpredictable, wild personality were like a blade without a hilt—a man of dangerous charm.
The human named Sachsen was similar, yet different. He had reddish-brown hair and dull, gloomy eyes.
‘He is... a poisonous flower.’
He reminded her of a beautiful blossom that poisoned anyone who dared touch it.
And Audin? Aside from his skill...
“I suppose I should call you sister.”
His observation skills were delicate, contrasting sharply with his massive build. A delicate bear—the description fit him perfectly. Though the other squad members seemed to have vaguely guessed that Luagarne was female, this massive man had recognized it at first glance.
They were all incredibly sharp.
‘Blonde hair and red eyes are quite nice, too.’
Ragna, the northerner, was like the lazy afternoon sun. Though he flared up occasionally, he was mostly relaxed. In terms of raw talent, Ragna was the best among them in Luagarne’s eyes. However, talent and skill did not always correlate.
How on earth did such monsters all gather in one place?
‘It seems a few of them have even tasted the very edge of Will.’
But tasting the edge did not mean they had awakened it. The path of a knight was just that harsh. Countless warriors remained stuck at that threshold, stagnating forever.
Luagarne’s gaze returned to Encrid. Her eyes captured his every movement. Even as she pondered the others, the most fascinating subject was still the man right in front of her.
“Hup.”
Encrid moved, his breath sharp. Sweat sprayed into the air. It was the Heavy Sword Style’s mid-level horizontal slash—the spinning slash. It was a strike delivered with full force, pivoting on his left foot while maintaining his centerline.
‘Wherever he learned that...’
He had been trained well. His fundamentals were rock solid. And on top of that...
‘He doesn't know how to give up.’
It had only been a few days, but he remained unchanged. Consistent. Geniuses often showed absurd growth in a matter of days, making it a wonder how Encrid had even managed to build this level of skill. It is hard to put in effort when you cannot see yourself growing.
She couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration. For a Frok, indulging in desire was the purpose of life. Some staked everything on "spiritual love," while others sought accomplishment through training.
Luagarne was vulnerable to the "unknown." Despite her long life, she was now facing an unknown she had never seen before.
“Isn't it boring, just watching?” the unknown asked.
Luagarne let out a croaking laugh, her cheeks puffing up. “Do you want to see my weapon?”
“Rather than just seeing it, I’d prefer to face it.”
A man who didn't know how to give up, challenging his limits. Luagarne had seen many such humans, but...
‘He really is a strange one.’
This was her first time seeing someone crawl forward without wavering. He showed no hesitation, no frustration, and no despair. He had moved past such things. He accepted what he had and simply did what he could.
How many people could actually put that into practice?
‘Probably only him.’
Regardless of his inherent talent, his willpower to forge ahead shone brilliantly—so blindingly that she could barely keep her eyes open.
‘What if the coin tossed by the Goddess of Fortune lands on its edge, rather than heads or tails?’
A tossed coin usually falls on one side, but with an absurdly low probability, it can stand upright. Luck, as always, defied logic.
‘If, just if, that happens...’
If the man before her actually awakened Will...
It was thrilling. The sense of fulfillment brought by the unknown warmed Luagarne’s heart. She stood up.
“Shall we play?”
It was only natural for her to show interest. Others likely thought she stayed because of Ragna, but she had seen countless people like him. Ragna was not an unknown.
Only Encrid was. He was the anomaly. He was enough to engrave his name into her mind.
‘It’s been so long.’
For the first time in a very long while, Luagarne felt the urge to indulge in spiritual love.
*
‘Becoming a knight.’
The goal was clear now. A milestone had been set: facing his limits. This was something he had done countless times before.
“People do not know their own limits. So, what should you do?”
Ragna had shown him the way. The answer lay within the question.
“Keep walking.”
He just had to move forward, even if he had to crawl. He had to do what he had always done: face the limit, shatter it, and move forward. Once he surpassed that limit, he would have to awaken the power called "Will."
It was a simple, clear fact. Encrid knew his own talent well. He had accepted and acknowledged it long ago. He simply refused to despair over it.
“A whip, of all things,” Encrid muttered, sprawled on the ground as he stared at the sky.
He’d had a prejudice that most Frok used bladed weapons. It was a foolish preconception. The Frok before him used a whip with a looped handle. The cord itself was half again as long as a spear. It slithered like a snake, wrapping around his ankle and upending him.
Slashing, parrying, dodging. After ten clashes, his gambit failed, and he fell.
‘Why didn't it work?’
It was a problem worth pondering. If he could find the answer, it would give him the strength to take another step.
“You are a truly interesting human,” the Frok said.
“Your name?” Encrid finally asked.
“Luagarne. You can call me Lua.”
“You can call me Enki.”
It wasn't a formal introduction, just a way to break the ice for the time they would spend together. Encrid stood up. There was still too much to do to lie around resting. His training had started at dawn, and though lunch had passed, it was still prime time to move.
“Again?” Encrid asked.
Luagarne let out a throaty chuckle. “Gladly.”
He gripped his sword once more. They clashed. He sought new paths, pondered the nature of Will, and devised ways to reach his limits.
Even after the spar, Encrid continued to swing his sword. Occasionally, he watched Finn and Audin. It was a clash between Eilkaraz-style and Valaf-style martial arts. It was simpler than expected, but there was still much to learn.
Sachsen still made himself scarce. Krais groaned over a map he had acquired from somewhere.
A month after the battle ended, the weather began to grow warmer. Even standing still, sweat would trickle down.
“With our great victory, the Kingdom’s territory has expanded! In celebration—!”
A festival was held. Unlike previous parties, food and alcohol were distributed throughout the entire territory. Even then, Encrid swung his sword.
“You really are a boring human,” Luagarne remarked.
The Frok loved festivals. Enjoying oneself was the purpose of life. Yet, Luagarne stayed to watch Encrid swing his blade. In reality, swinging a sword every day shouldn't have been more fun than a festival, and yet...
‘Why is this so satisfying to watch?’
It was incomprehensible. It was an unknown. And that was why it was enjoyable.
Time passed. Azpen declared its surrender. Three months went by.
*
Now, sweat poured down even while doing nothing.
“Somehow, this summer feels longer than usual,” Rem muttered.
Encrid let the words drift past as he swung his sword. For three months, Luagarne had remained right where she was. Finn had not returned either. She was originally a scout; it was past time for her to join a new platoon.
“I haven't heard anything yet,” she said.
Had the battalion commander forgotten her? Or did he leave her here because she fit in? It was none of Encrid's business. He simply swung, and swung again.
“Rem, hey, Rem.”
Over those three months, the Frok had become quite familiar with the squad.
“What?”
“How did you even teach him that?” Luagarne flicked her long tongue.
“Heh, you would've been even more appalled if you'd seen him before,” Rem replied with a chuckle.
Indeed. Even the Frok was amazed—by Encrid’s lack of improvement. Despite training like a madman every single day, Encrid was stagnating. At least, that was how it looked to her.
Which only made her admire him more.
Effort, too, was a talent. Normally, one could only maintain such effort when they saw themselves growing.
‘What on earth is he thinking?’
The Frok was curious about what went on inside his head. For three whole months, Encrid had been in a slump.
At least, that was how it looked to her. Encrid, however, thought otherwise.