Chapter 167: In Today, Where the Moon Rises
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 167: In Today, Where the Moon Rises
On his one hundred and eighty-sixth "today," Encrid finally grasped the concept of coordination, and his body’s reactions shifted in kind.
Thud.
The moment he sensed a spearhead whistling toward his back, he spun and snatched the shaft mid-air. It was an acrobatic feat—a spear thrusting at his blind spot, yet Encrid twisted his frame to dodge and, in that same fluid motion, reached out and gripped the wood.
The scene looked like a perfectly choreographed play.
A dull thwack followed—the sound of a blade smashing into a skull. That was all it took. Once he perceived the rhythm and drew the image in his mind, his body moved on its own.
“The Isolation Technique is the foundation that allows you to control your body with ease, Brother.”
Audin’s words resonated within him. If he hadn't tempered his body countless times through the Isolation Technique, he never could have pulled this off. The movement he imagined was executed with perfection.
Naturally, the flaws in his own form became visible as well.
With minimal movement.
This realization was the key to conserving his stamina. Large, sweeping motions were a waste of energy. If he continued like that, he wouldn't be able to hold out. There could be no waste. Now that he knew the problem, he simply had to trim the excess.
Training in the Orthodox Sword forms helped as well.
If I can predict the movements...
He could eliminate the unnecessary. Without him even realizing it, Encrid’s swordsmanship was ascending to the next level. It wasn't intentional; it was merely a side benefit gained through the process of struggling—of giving his absolute everything.
Even though repeating this "today" nearly two hundred times had made him sick to his stomach from the stench of monsters and the musk of demonic beasts, Encrid smiled. The thrill of growth filled him. This held true despite his repeated failures.
His struggle never wavered. Encrid never ceased scheming to take his next step toward "tomorrow."
This was the fruit of that labor.
Suddenly, Encrid felt every nerve in his body tingle. It was during a "today" that had finally surpassed the two-hundredth mark.
He could see the incoming blades.
It was around noon. As he stepped his left foot aside to dodge, a blade sliced through empty air. A spearhead thrust in from the flank, and an axe flew from behind. Encrid ducked, parrying the spear shaft with his palm and letting the axe slide harmlessly off his shoulder.
Scrape.
His leather breastplate was gouged, but he remained uninjured.
Immediately after, a hail of spears, gladiuses, axes, and clubs flew at him once more. A variant even swung a club as thick as a man’s thigh in a vertical overhead strike.
He felt his sword getting in the way. It hindered his movement. It was dead weight—inconvenient.
Encrid sheathed his sword. No, he unbuckled his sword belt entirely while in motion and cast it aside.
His body became light as a feather.
Whoosh, swish, thrust, slash.
He didn't need to see the flow of every single weapon. He simply decided to watch and react to them one by one. He forgot himself, focusing entirely on the rhythm of the assault.
Before he knew it, the midday sun had passed its zenith and was tilting toward the west. A sly hyena kept snapping at his ankles. Encrid dodged that as well, sometimes stepping back, sometimes lunging forward.
Spinning to the side, he drove his knee into the belly of a hyena beast that had drawn too close. Immediately after, he threw himself into the chest of a gnoll approaching from behind, shoving it away with his shoulder. Using the recoil of the impact, he snapped back into an upright stance.
Then, watching an incoming blade, he reached out and tapped the attacker’s wrist.
“Gruhk?”
The gnoll’s blade deflected sideways, nearly taking off its companion’s head.
“Gwooooh!”
Another gnoll, consumed by rage, swung a heavy hammer.
Whoosh.
The movement was telegraphed, its trajectory wide. Dodging it wasn't hard. The only problem was that five or six such attacks were rushing in simultaneously.
So, what to do?
Watch and react to each one. That was what Encrid did. He pushed spear shafts away with his bare hands, dodging and dodging again. Excluding any attempt to kill his opponents, he relied purely on his sense of evasion. It was a technique born of intuition, instinct, and his highly developed five senses.
Soon, the sunset faded, and the moon slowly reared its head.
Encrid didn't even register the transition from day to night. He was entirely occupied with "handling" the threats targeting him from all sides. Dodging, parrying, deflecting, moving. It wasn't a life-or-death battle; it was a high-stakes game of tag.
In this repeating "today," Esther had concealed her presence and taken her spot on the roof multiple times. It was visible to her eyes as well.
What on earth is he doing?
To describe it in words was impossible; it was an utterly nonsensical scene. Encrid dodged alone amidst a literal wave of gnolls. He was simply holding out. Death was inevitable anyway—it was unavoidable. But why?
Why are you smiling?
A question bloomed in Esther’s mind, though it was a question that would vanish once this cycle ended. What Encrid was doing went far beyond "acrobatics." It was astonishing. He seemed to be playing with the wave of monsters. He looked like he could die at any moment, yet he never did. He dodged axes, slipped past clubs, parried, and blocked.
Sometimes, he even "hugged" a gnoll.
How could he not? If he stayed still, he would be beaten to death, so Encrid grabbed the arm of a gnoll he had stepped behind and swung it as if it were his own limb. With that, he blocked the attacks of other gnolls. He deflected a flying axe blade with a stolen club.
Crack!
It was madness. Instead of attacking, he focused entirely on the art of the dodge.
The sunset ended, the moon rose, and as the carriage of the day reached its destination, he finally met the end of the day. The moonlight gently bathed the surroundings, illuminating the summer night.
It was a place filled only with stench, the smell of corpses, the heat of iron, and the musk of monsters.
Encrid had stayed up all night. To be precise, he had survived the day. This meant the day had ended without him ever even seeing the leader.
Ah.
Only then did his deep focus break. Encrid finally realized what he had achieved.
Ah.
He let out a second exclamation inwardly. And with good reason. He had discarded his weapon and focused entirely on evasion. Why? Why did he do this? It was a movement driven by pure instinct.
And thus, he had acquired it: the way to purely dodge. The way to watch and react. This was a talent Encrid originally lacked—a fundamental change in his reflexes and athletic ability.
It was a tower built by stacking the Isolation Technique, filling it with his sense of evasion, and dying a thousand deaths amidst poison and blades in this repeating "today."
Hundreds of them had lunged at him. He had endured it. He couldn't kill them all—that was a feat for a true Knight. But if it was just surviving, just holding out...
It’s possible.
A thrilling ecstasy surged through his entire body. Even the gnolls who had attacked him for a full day would have shaken their heads in disbelief. Of course, none of them actually did.
Encrid’s body was covered in scratches. Blood trickled down his cheek. It was impossible to escape completely unscathed. However, there were no fatal wounds.
At the end of the day spent like that—the end of "today"—the moment he watched the sunset fade and the moon rise, he realized the day was over.
“See you again. But not here next time.”
After speaking, Encrid closed his eyes.
Would "today" end with this? Just by holding out? Not a chance. He had expected as much. And so, when he opened his eyes again, the surroundings had changed.
The Black River, the ferryboat, and the ferryman.
“That won't be enough, you know?”
With that, the ferryman passed by.
Closing and opening his eyes once more, he saw the ceiling of the cabin.
It was "today" again.
A "today" that repeated with a single blink of an eye. Having experienced this before, it was proof that simply holding out was not the solution. Of course, that wasn't a problem. Though ecstasy swelled in his chest, now was not the time to enjoy it.
The countless repeated days, the gathered information, the thoughts he had compiled—it was time to use them. As soon as Encrid woke up, he kicked Krais.
“Wake up.”
“Argh, what is it this early in the morning?”
What else? It was the day he had to run his ass off to avoid dying.
A method that could be called a shortcut had occurred to him around his one hundred and twentieth "today." He intended to put it into action. He had achieved his original goal of "surviving today." In other words, he had met the minimum condition he had set to get through this cycle.
The sense of evasion.
Along with the Heart of Monstrous Strength, it was now fully ingrained in his body. He had grasped the feel of it. He had successfully integrated the fruits of his rigorous training into his very being.
So, did he need to repeat this again? This damn "today"?
There was no need. Because of his blind devotion to the sword, people often overlooked it, but Encrid was actually quite articulate and clever. In particular, he was the type who had no qualms about using shortcuts.
*
Encrid had set a goal, and he had achieved it.
He survived.
To spend a full day and see its end. He knew instinctively that, in terms of results, the end would only bring him back to the original "today."
No, it was more than intuition.
Surpassing the wall won't happen this way.
Holding out was never the answer. If holding out were the answer, his encounters with the mage Letsha and the werewolf would have ended in mere escape. The traps of the crazy mage who had built his lair in the territory’s underground passage would have also been something he could just avoid.
This was a curse, so he needed a way to break it. Encrid didn't know the exact answer, but he had a few ideas. Having spent time pondering how to escape "today," this was the method that had come to mind.
If "today" repeated because of the cycle of killing and being killed, what would happen if he prevented that process from even starting?
I just have to try it.
Results follow the process.
“Did I mention that I worked as a mercenary for quite a long time?”
This was after he had geared up and stepped outside. Sweat trickled down from his forehead, brushing past his chin. It was hot, as expected. Just the act of putting on his gear in the morning made his body temperature spike. But it was actually perfect; his muscles and joints were waking up without the need for a separate warm-up.
Today, there was no time for the Isolation Technique or training. So this was just right.
“Hmm?”
At Encrid’s words, Luagarne tilted her head. She wondered what this man was suddenly talking about. Does his head hurt this early in the morning? her gaze seemed to ask.
Encrid ignored her look and continued.
“I once fought against cultists. The Demon Realm Holy Land Cult.”
When he spoke while playing completely innocent, Luagarne reacted instantly.
“...Are you speaking of cultists?”
Her reaction was, as always, extraordinary. A chilly air drifted between them. Her aura was fierce. Encrid ignored the pressure and spoke.
“Do you happen to know them?”
This is a bit awkward.
Encrid wondered if he needed to train his acting skills as well, but Luagarne didn't notice. Her mind was occupied with something else entirely. The word "cultist" had been mentioned. To her, they were bastards that absolutely had to be slaughtered. They were the subject of her oath.
“There was one guy I missed back then. I can't believe I'm only remembering him now.”
As he spoke, Encrid tapped his forehead. This feels a bit awkward too. Acting really did require training, and he had skipped the rehearsals entirely.
Of course, Luagarne still paid no mind to his tone.
“Do you remember the fellow who was following behind Deutsch Fullman?”
“The ugly human with thick lips.”
The Frog Kin’s eye for beauty was quite sharp. Indeed, the man had a face like a fish. Encrid knew a few others besides him—had he not already repeated "today" over two hundred times? Could that one guy be the only thing he had learned in all that time?
However, it was certain that the cultist masquerading as a fish was the most troublesome one. In his repeated days, Luagarne had always chased after him and never returned.
“That’s the one.”
“Are you certain? That he is a cultist?”
“Yes, I swear on my sword and everything I have.”
Luagarne knew how much Encrid treasured his sword. To her, it sounded similar to her making an Oath of the Heart. For a human, his words carried immense weight. Which meant he was trustworthy.
“If you don't believe me, you can go and ask him directly right now.”
“I shall go.”
That was it. She was more hot-headed than expected. Luagarne immediately pulled out her whip, wrapped it around her hand, and walked off at a brisk, almost running pace. She looked ready to hunt down Deutsch Fullman right then and there. If he wasn't there, she would likely search the entire city until she found him.
“What... what was that? That incredibly awkward way of speaking?” Krais, who had been watching blankly from the side, asked.
Was it really that awkward? It probably was. But that wasn't what mattered.
“You need to move too,” Encrid said, taking a step forward.
He had measured and calculated the timing over and over during his repetitions. He knew how the monsters swarmed and exactly what the catalyst was. He had even searched for the cause. It would be one thing if he didn't know the problem, but since he knew...
Preventing it is easy.
At least, it was for Encrid. Since it was something he had already done several times in his mind, there was no hesitation.