Chapter 156: Learning, Practicing, Teaching, and Realizing
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 156: Learning, Practicing, Teaching, and Realizing
Birds chirped.
The wind sighed.
Under the brilliant sun of the summer sky, the heat began to rise rapidly.
Heat boiled within Encrid, both inside and out.
For the past three months, rumors had run rampant. People whispered that while the nations maintained a peaceful facade, they were secretly preparing to spark another war.
In the end, Azpen took a step back.
There was no war. There were no battles.
So, what were those left in the barracks to do?
Training and resting were all that remained.
Though many went out on commissions through the Soldier Mercenary System, Encrid had no shortage of Krona. His two swords were in perfect condition, and Krais regularly brought him the Krona he earned through the guild.
Thus, he spent the vast majority of his time training.
Even so, his growth was slow. At least, that was how it seemed to others. The word "stagnation" was often whispered behind his back.
Stagnation—a complete standstill.
Everyone thought Encrid was stuck in such a state, but he knew better.
And why wouldn't he?
‘Will.’
What had Encrid's dream been until now?
An elusive wraith. An invisible darkness. Uncatchable and unseen, it was an unreachable sky.
But now, a staircase reaching toward that sky had come into view. He had heard its call, and it had taken form.
Signposts.
To Encrid, Will was exactly that. It was a staircase; it was a signpost. The command to break his limits was the same.
Stagnation? No.
Because his past self and his current self were fundamentally different, he was not stagnant. Even if it looked like a plateau to others, Encrid could see the fruits of his growth ripening.
What was the reason he could become like this?
It was thanks to everything he had learned and hammered into his body until now. Starting with the Beast's Heart, followed by the Blade's Sense, Single-Point Focus, and the Isolation Technique.
‘If swordsmanship has basics...’
‘Can a foundation be built for creating talent as well?’
He didn't know for sure. But wasn't that exactly what was happening to his body right now?
Through Single-Point Focus, sometimes utilizing the Beast's Heart, and at other times sharpening the Blade's Sense, he reflected on his past experiences over and over again.
That was what Encrid had done for three whole months.
On top of that, there were the soldiers who sought him out. He truly felt the truth behind the saying that one's own skills improve while teaching others.
"Let's have a spar."
The 1st Company and the Border Guard.
These two units were where the most skilled gathered, even among the Border Guard Standing Army. In the beginning, ordinary soldiers had often come as well, but now, no one sought him out unless they belonged to these elite units.
Sparring was always welcome.
"Sounds good."
Encrid accepted their challenges calmly.
Soon, two men, dripping with sweat, would trade blows to test each other's mettle.
Encrid won every single time.
If there was one difference from before, it was that he now had enough composure to avoid using dirty tricks or grappling. He fought while focusing purely on the basics, excluding the Valen-style Mercenary Sword. Even that was more than enough.
When fighting his squad members, including Rem, he used everything in his arsenal, but not with these soldiers. There was no need.
Having learned and practiced in this manner, he noticed something.
‘It's too much.’
Occasionally, he saw such soldiers—those whose basics were crumbling because they were trying to master too many different things at once.
"Isn't this more efficient, though?"
When he pointed out their flaws, that was the response he often received.
It was a thought he had once had himself. An efficient and rational way of fighting. He still made great use of it even now.
But that was a method of combat, not a method of training.
For the sake of repeating today, he had tried to learn and absorb as many things into his body as possible. But had any of it come easily?
Even now, he couldn't properly use the Sense of Evasion. The Heart of Monstrous Strength required preparation time. Even Single-Point Focus wouldn't activate easily unless his life was on the line.
This was the realization he had gained after countless hours of agonizing and pondering.
‘Start with what I can do right now.’
Move forward. And then forward again.
With that resolve, he continued his endless repetitions. Sometimes, the Ferryman would appear in his dreams and say things like, "What on earth are you?" but he paid the voice no mind.
For three months, there was only training. As Encrid's life had always been, he remained consistent. Repeat and repeat again.
Living a week exactly like today. A month exactly like today.
By doing so, he realized something new.
‘Rhythm.’
The essential element needed when swinging a sword.
Things that geniuses—bastards like Ragna—passed by in a flash were, to Encrid, stepping stones to be chewed over and climbed step by step.
If he realized something in the morning, he felt like he was flying for the rest of the day. If he realized something in the evening, he remained joyful all through the night, even as he went to bed.
Kyah!
Esther followed Encrid closely, as if cheering him on. Having insisted on sleeping right next to him at night, she now refused to leave his side even during the day.
"You're popular even with beasts," Frok remarked.
Esther bared her claws once at Frok for saying that, but the two of them never actually fought.
Once every two days, the Elf Company Commander would visit.
"Would around autumn be good? For the engagement ceremony?"
She would tease him, or,
"Shall we spar?"
...and leave after crossing swords. The Elf's sword was sharp and light, and there was much to be learned from it.
He learned while teaching, and he learned through sparring.
"Now, try blocking this."
Rem's axe strikes were still vicious and rough, but there was a change from before. Encrid could now bring something resembling a smile to their lips, or...
"Whoa!"
...startle them like this.
An upward-slashing sword paired with an off-beat thrust from the left hand. Since the timing of the slash and the thrust differed subtly, it felt as if a discord had slipped into the rhythm.
Two hands riding different beats at the same time.
The Valen-style Mercenary Sword: Crossed Blades.
Among the techniques of the Illusion Sword—especially the Valen-style Mercenary Sword, which was often called underhanded—this was a rare, genuine technique. It made the sword in the right hand and the sword in the left hand appear to move completely independently of each other.
"That one was pretty good," Rem said.
Recognition—that, too, was a joy.
"If you neglect your martial arts, the Lord will be furious."
Honestly, why would any god get furious over him learning Valaf-style Martial Arts? It was nonsense, but Encrid simply hung out with Audin without saying much.
Valaf-style Martial Arts was an art that mixed strikes and joint locks. Indeed, hadn't he killed Mitch Hurier by mixing joint locks into a Valen-style Mercenary Sword brawl?
He practiced and learned. The ecstasy of learning. Being recognized, learning, and in turn, teaching.
Thus, he grew.
The ecstasy of growth whipped him forward, so swinging his sword could only be enjoyable.
‘One by one, half a step at a time, even if I have to crawl.’
His original resolution. Exactly as he had resolved at the very beginning.
What was so simple for Encrid was incredibly fascinating to someone else. Especially to Frok, who was watching him.
Of course, Encrid was too busy contemplating his current self to care about the eyes of those around him. Since he also didn't neglect training his dynamic vision and senses in between, he was living a busier life than anyone.
Only a fraction of the soldiers who had initially followed Encrid in his rigorous training were still dedicated to it. Perhaps it was because the military discipline had loosened after the battle ended, or perhaps human willpower was simply like that.
As the number of soldiers slacking off around them increased, those dedicated to training dwindled. Yet, there were still those who remained. Some of them stood out.
Excluding them, his best sparring partners were the members of the Border Guard. Sometimes, he would go to them directly and ask to cross swords.
"You're always welcome."
The Border Guard Captain always welcomed Encrid. He crossed swords with him and mingled with others, but Torres, a familiar face, shook his head.
"I'm not fighting you anymore."
"Why?"
"Hey, you don't pick fights you're bound to lose."
The Soldier Grading System. These were the words of those who discussed "Special Grade" soldiers. While some of them burned with competitive spirit once more, Encrid had already taken a step further than them.
Three months—time was always an arrow shot from a bow, but to Encrid, it was a single day. It was today. It was a process of moving toward tomorrow.
"Rhythm isn't just one thing. Didn't you already know that?"
Did she think he couldn't understand just by watching? Or perhaps she had grown bored of staying here.
Luagarne, the Frok, also began to teach Encrid.
"I was just about to say that," Ragna, who had been watching, muttered, but it was exactly the advice needed at that moment.
Rhythm, tempo.
Indeed. There was no need for it to be just one. Hadn't he already learned that through the Valen-style Mercenary Sword?
Crossed Blades was a double attack utilizing off-beats. There was a tempo stretched long over a single breath. There was a short, solid tempo. There was also a tempo sustained by bracing one's core.
Thus, he learned.
"Shift the tempo from the standard beat, and with a single step—no, take half a step further with your left foot right there. Then, you can transition into a Heavy Sword Style spinning slash from that position."
Luagarne was quite proactive.
Why was this Frok staying by his side? Why was she eating and sleeping in his quarters? Why was she teaching him?
He pushed all these questions to the back of his mind. No, he decided to forget them. If taught, he would learn. Because he always craved learning, Encrid did just that.
"Then, what about pulling the right foot back here?"
"That makes it difficult to recover the sword. In that case, it's better to do this instead."
Ragna stepped in as well. He wasn't sure how things had ended up this way, but everyone seemed to have become much more proactive than before.
"No, you can also do it like this," Rem joined in too.
It was a step where one balanced on the balls of their feet and twisted their body. Along with the basics, a sword swung to match various situations, moving feet, and reacting eyes.
"Expand your senses. Haven't you already learned how?" Sachsen's advice chimed in.
Indeed, he had already learned. Hadn't he expanded his sensory domain while facing the Lycanthrope? Not just looking ahead, but seeing the whole. Spreading his senses outward with himself at the center.
"Brother Squad Leader, every movement has a center. That is true for both martial arts and swordsmanship. Seizing the centerline and connecting that line to your opponent—that is what's important."
Audin's teaching was added to the mix.
In short, everyone was more enthusiastic than before, and to Encrid, all of it came as pure ecstasy.
"He does have a strength."
That was the conclusion of the Frok, who had watched everything.
"What strength?" Rem asked, standing beside her. They were still at the training ground. It was still under the scorching sun. Today was still a day of dripping sweat and sour smells.
"Once he learns something, he never lets it go."
Rem nodded. It was true. Encrid was a slow-witted man. He was slow to practice and slow to learn. Though rumors of him being a late-blooming genius sometimes circulated...
‘I wouldn't know about that.’
But one thing was certain. He never forgot what he learned. He agonized over it endlessly. He desperately wanted to learn, no matter what. How to apply what he learned. How to manifest it. In what manner to use it.
He pondered without end. That much was visible.
‘That, too, is a strength,’ Rem thought.
Only now was the Frok looking back on what she was doing.
‘Am I bewitched by his face? Or am I bewitched by his temperament?’
Enthusiastically teaching someone who showed no visible talent and paving the way for him to move forward... wasn't it incredibly inefficient?
Well, not that she particularly cared. Froks were creatures driven by desire and urge. Luagarne knew that she, too, could not be free from such things.
Of course, there was something that came before desire. To be precise, she had made a Covenant so as not to live entirely swayed by her urges. A Covenant was a promise, and an oath was something that had to be kept—at least, that was how it was for a Frok.
‘I do have to go back eventually,’ the Frok thought, even as she continued to teach Encrid.
For all the learning and practicing he had done over the past three months, his progress was slow. At least, that was how it seemed to the Frok.
Between the Frok's watchful gaze and the teachings of his squad members, Encrid reflected on the tempos and once again integrated various techniques into his body.
Mastery—it felt as though he had taken a step closer to his limits. Of course, in reality, he was nowhere near it, especially since he still had no grasp of what it even meant to approach one's limits.
It was during this time.
"You've been summoned."
The Elf Company Commander came to find him.
"Yes."
Drenched in sweat, Encrid followed behind her. Sweat also trickled down the Elf Company Commander's forehead. It was just that hot of a day. The humidity was high as well.
It felt as though it had to pour. Rain would surely fall within a day or two; he knew this from experience.
"Are you here?"
The place the Company Commander led him to was the Battalion Commander's office.
"A commission has come in. What do you think?"
Although the Soldier Mercenary System was structured so that willing soldiers stepped forward to take on commissions, there were times when orders came from above. Though rare, if a few ordinary soldiers couldn't handle it, platoon- or company-sized forces would be dispatched.
According to Krais, packs of monsters and demonic beasts had recently been running rampant within the kingdom. While that was naturally the tendency as summer approached, he had heard that this year was exceptionally severe.
‘The heat of summer makes monsters and demonic beasts thrive.’
It was a famous adage passed down across the continent. This matter was of that very nature.
"I will grant you temporary command over a nearby pioneer village, so I would like you to handle the situation there," the Battalion Commander said.
Because the spring battlefield had ended early, this summer was, unusually, being spent in the territory rather than on the front lines. During this time, Encrid had stayed only at the training ground and his quarters. He hadn't gone out to the market even once.
It was because he was drunk on the joy of holding his sword and forging ahead.
"If you have no intention of going, you don't have to. If you need time, you can think it over and let me know."
The Battalion Commander looked somewhat fatigued. Did he have a lot of work to process? Or had he lost sleep? It seemed to be the former, judging by the piles of documents surrounding him.
"Yes, sir."
Encrid offered a military salute and turned around. Just as he stepped outside, the Elf Company Commander looked at him with a strange gaze.
"Is something the matter?"
If he asked, would she just spout more nonsense?
"I was just thinking, once again, that I chose my man well."
Naturally, it was an Elven joke.
"Is that so?"
After putting an end to the trivial banter, he returned to his quarters to find Krais, who had been particularly busy lately, waiting inside.
When Encrid briefly summarized what had happened while sorting through the order sheet, Krais's eyes began to shine.
"That! Let's go, let's go! We have to go! It's an order!"
When he acted like this, it meant there was Krona on the line. Krais's reaction made that clear.
The order sheet roughly detailed the location of the village and the scale of the colony. It was an uprising of a pack of demonic beasts. Setting aside the pack of demonic beasts, Krais's eyes practically spun the moment he saw the location.