Chapter 186: A White Lie
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 186: A White Lie
After Encrid left, Rem—and indeed, everyone else—became unusually diligent for the first time in a long while.
Rather than picking on passing soldiers, Rem spent his days swinging his axes in solitude. He was putting in something that resembled genuine effort, drenched in a constant sweat.
Ragna was no different. Audin was no exception.
Sachsen was the only outlier, but only because he spent most of his time outside the barracks; even then, he joined them whenever he returned.
Thus, the brutal sparring matches—where they risked half their lives with every exchange—continued unabated.
"Damn it."
Every soldier who witnessed it could only shake their head in disbelief. Watching Rem, Ragna, Audin, and even the Elf Company Commander throw themselves into the fray, the regular soldiers felt a crushing sense of frustration. Despair seemed to pat them on the shoulder.
Was there anyone who could look at those monsters, grit their teeth, and actually vow to catch up?
"Are they fucking insane?"
Even Torres of the Border Guard scowled deeply at the sight.
"I mean, this isn't just discouraging; it’s demoralizing."
His grievance was the grievance of the entire barracks. Could anyone honestly believe they could reach that level simply by swinging a sword every day?
The Elf Company Commander didn't back down from the madness, either.
"You're not half bad, are you?"
He even received such praise from Rem. In truth, he wasn't just "not half bad." Excluding his lack of Will, his skill was enough to pass for an Associate Knight.
Why was someone of his caliber serving as a mere Company Commander? Then again, there were those with similar skills acting as simple platoon members in this unit. In that light, the Elf Company Commander was the most normal one among them.
The ruckus eventually forced the Battalion Commander to grant them a separate training ground. The Elf Company Commander had been the one to suggest it.
"The atmosphere in the barracks is... deteriorating," he had reported.
The training ground was established immediately after. And for good reason: the training craze that had once swept the barracks thanks to Encrid had cooled to sub-zero temperatures. It would have been difficult to kill the mood on purpose, yet they had managed it with just a few passionate sparring sessions.
Monsters like that actually existed in the world. And because of them, a wave of sudden depression pervaded the barracks.
Ragna, for instance—he was a guy who used to just laze around on his cot. He definitely was. But that bastard was a genius among geniuses. How could he swing his sword so sharply from a completely broken stance? Torres had once tried to secretly copy the movement, only to trip and fall on his face. It was a feat that literally could not be replicated just by watching.
And what about Rem? Not only was his personality nasty, but his axe-work was equally vicious. He would strike down with overwhelming power, alternating his axes with such speed that even the opening blow seemed impossible to block.
Then there was the giant mass of a man who blocked all of it.
"Brother, please, go to heaven!"
Audin’s tone was gentle, but he spoke constantly of sending people to their deaths. He didn't fall behind even when bare-handed. Though he occasionally used a club, he mostly fought empty-handed. He was a master of martial arts. On the previous battlefield, he had a record of snapping enemy necks like cornstalks and breaking bones like dry twigs.
"May you go to the Lord's side!"
He was a terrifyingly skilled individual. Behind them was Sachsen, that crazed-eyed bastard who silently swung his sword. And finally, the Elf Company Commander provided the grand finale.
The motivation of the watching soldiers plummeted. These guys barely even trained properly, yet their talent was blinding—a brilliance so bright it could strike a man blind.
It was in this state of affairs that Encrid returned.
During his absence, Rem had been honing his senses through those life-and-death spars. For the sake of the next step, for a better tomorrow, he had swung his axes for the first time in ages. Even before this improvement, Rem was confident he could kill an Associate Knight like Aisia if she challenged him.
The technique called Will used by Associate Knights was, after all, a manipulation of the physical body; at the very least, Rem knew he wouldn't be blown away helplessly. Even against an exceptionally skilled Associate Knight, he might not win easily, but he wouldn't be taken down in a single strike.
And now, that very Rem had thoroughly sharpened his senses. He had actually put in the effort to improve.
Ragna was the same. The word "lazy" no longer applied to him. Morning and night, he held his sword, swung it, and lost himself in thought. He wasn't sleeping; he was meditating.
And yet.
The exchange isn't breaking?
Rem was half-serious now. If he became any more serious, the match would have to end in death. For a spar, it should have ended here.
And yet.
Just a bit more.
Encrid's sword fell straight down, a slash aimed at the crown of Rem's head. When Rem struck it aside with his axe, the blade curved and swept downward. This time, it didn't feel like a snake, but a bird of prey—a hawk gliding through the air before diving to strike.
The swinging sword accelerated in an instant, nearly slipping out of Rem's field of vision. Barely catching its trace, he defended once more.
Clang!
Holy shit.
Rem smirked without realizing it. When had sparring with his Platoon Leader ever been like this? Before, it had been entertaining, but only as an amusement—like dancing a lively jig.
But now? A surge of competitive spirit and sheer ecstasy welled up inside him. He wanted to feel more of this.
Just a little more.
The axes Rem had initially swung just to gauge Encrid's skill gradually closed the distance. By the standards Rem and Ragna had originally set, the match transitioned from a safe warm-up to a lethal spar.
Nick.
It happened in the gap where Rem crossed his axes. He thought he had blocked perfectly, but a thrust pierced through a microscopic opening and grazed his cheek.
A scratch. Just a scratch. But he had failed to block it.
The corners of Rem's mouth twisted into a grotesque grin. He was so thrilled he felt like he was going mad. The overwhelming excitement scrambled his brain. He felt something new surging from deep within.
The Heart of Monstrous Strength activated on its own, heating his entire body. His heart thudded, and in that same instant, he swung his axe with ferocious force.
The transition from risking half his life to risking his entire life happened in a heartbeat.
At that exact moment, Encrid's eyes went blank, and his sword clattered to the ground like a snapped kite.
Rem was startled. Holy shit!
He didn't have the leeway to pull back his axe. At this rate, he was about to split his Platoon Leader's skull open.
It was a fraction of a second.
Clang!
A sword intervened, blocking the path of the axe.
Thud. Two hands grabbed Rem's muscular forearm. Finally, a thick hand clamped down on his left wrist, which had been about to strike out reflexively.
It was Ragna, Sachsen, and Audin, in that order.
"Are you trying to kill him the moment you see him?" Ragna asked.
"……Damn it, who's killing who? I was going to stop it perfectly on my own. Why the hell are you guys interfering?"
It was a bluff. Everyone knew it. But they also understood why it happened. Ragna, Audin, and Sachsen had all seen it too.
Their Platoon Leader had changed. He had returned at an unexpected, unimaginable level.
His unhesitating strikes, his tactical play, his physical coordination—everything had evolved. And then there was his reaction speed.
Sachsen recognized what made it possible at a single glance.
The Sense of Evasion.
He was satisfied. Encrid had mastered it properly. Sachsen nodded silently.
Ragna saw something else.
A refined sword.
The caliber of Encrid's swordplay had shifted. The way he swung, the way he thought—it wasn't just a simple change.
He has fused his own strengths with his swordsmanship.
It meant he hadn't just blindly followed instructions; he had mastered the art with a deep, proper understanding. In just two months? Even if Frok had poured his heart and soul into him, was this even possible? Ragna knew better than anyone that his Platoon Leader had changed, and would continue to change.
What Encrid had lacked was the talent to control his own body, but now, those foundations had been built.
Among them, only Audin perfectly understood the state of Encrid's body.
It brings a smile to my face, Brother Platoon Leader.
It was a truly gratifying physical condition. The degree of training, the altered athletic capability... and what lay at the foundation of it all? What allowed him to master that "stray cat" Sachsen's technique?
It is the Isolation Technique.
Among priests, those who focused on physical training were called monks. The Isolation Technique was forged by refining their conditioning methods. Encrid's body had been molded in that exact manner.
He must have achieved the Regenerative Body as well.
A dramatic recovery rate was the hallmark of such a body. Once again, Audin felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
Finally, Rem was the most astonished of all.
When did he get this far?
To the point where Rem genuinely had to stop and marvel. The lunatic who had abruptly demanded a spar upon their very first meeting had now become a highly skilled lunatic. He had evolved into an undeniable madman.
It was nothing short of astonishing. And Rem found it incredibly enjoyable. Did it matter how he had gotten stronger?
No.
Of course not. It was going to be fun from here on out.
*
Just because they had been given a separate training ground didn't mean it was completely enclosed. A fence full of holes, barely reaching an adult's chest, couldn't hide much. It merely served to mark a boundary.
Beyond that boundary, soldiers were watching the spar. These were the men whose motivation had been crushed and whose spirits had been broken. Among them was Vengeance.
Monsters.
The Mad Independent Platoon was practically a gathering of monsters. Looking at Encrid, who stood at the head of such a group, Vengeance couldn't understand how he had managed to occupy that position.
But then, Encrid had returned. Vengeance saw him now—a man who didn't back down a single step from Rem.
Vengeance knew where Encrid had started. Because he had disliked him, he had watched him closer than anyone. Encrid had been a truly insignificant soldier. A "low-grade soldier"—that was the term.
An old, talentless man.
But what about now? Vengeance couldn't pinpoint exactly what was different from their previous spars, but he could feel the atmosphere was entirely different. Both Rem and Encrid radiated a new pressure.
Most of all, Vengeance's own feelings had changed. It was different—far too different. Even the way Encrid collapsed at the end felt different.
Vengeance realized that his broken spirit was merely a campfire whose embers had temporarily died down.
I will do it too.
It was strange. Looking at Rem, Ragna, or Audin, they just felt like unreachable monsters. But looking at Encrid made him want to emulate that effort. It made him want to stand on the same level, right by his side.
Was it because he had witnessed Encrid's struggle all this time? Or was it simply familiarity? He didn't know, and he didn't dwell on it. Only desire remained.
"Today is special training!" Vengeance barked.
"Yes, sir!" the Vengeance Platoon replied in unison.
It wasn't just Vengeance. A spark of motivation flared in the chests of every soldier who had witnessed Encrid's fight. It was perhaps inevitable that a strange passion for training swept through the barracks starting the very next day.
*
Encrid had sparred with Rem on the day of his return.
"I think I overexerted myself. I'm not completely used to it yet," Encrid admitted later.
His eyes rolling back and his strength draining had been due to overusing the Heart of Monstrous Strength. Then again, Rem had come at him with lethal intent.
"Won't you get used to it as you keep using it?" Rem said, though he was half-doubtful. In truth, had anyone other than himself ever mastered this properly? He didn't think so, yet Encrid was the first to digest it to this extent, going far beyond mere imitation.
The next day, Encrid sparred with Ragna.
"Where did you learn those sword forms?"
"From a passing evil spirit."
It wasn't exactly a lie.
Sachsen also occasionally joined the sparring. Audin taught him a new joint-locking technique. Encrid was glad to have people who would engage with him like this the moment he returned.
How delightful it was—to be able to swing his sword and push his body without rest. To move forward toward a new self. To gain something even without repeating the day.
"Fiancé?"
The Elf Company Commander also came. Naturally, a spar followed. Only then did Encrid realize that when the Company Commander held a sword, he was no less formidable than Rem.
"Now that our ranks are equal, when shall we hold the ceremony?"
When would he stop with these elven jokes? Not that Encrid intended to complain. There was no reason to. It was just daily life now.
Esther, who used to sleep for two days straight, now only snuggled into his arms once every two days. He didn't know what had caused the change.
Krais had successfully sold the ancient gold coins they had obtained. Additionally, the pioneer village had purchased the gnoll armaments at a generous price. With one thing and another, Krona became quite well-off.
In the midst of his training, Encrid visited the blacksmith.
"Broken? What about the armor?"
The armor's exterior was torn and dented, and many of the inner chain links were snapped. It was ruined. The sword was broken, its core damaged beyond saving. Still, he had brought it along to see if it could be melted down.
"Two of them?" the smith asked.
"It just happened."
He had slain hundreds of gnolls. It was a miracle the damage was this light.
"Do you have any spare chainmail?" Encrid asked.
The blacksmith sighed and nodded. "Not right now, but I'll make you one. We recently got a shipment of high-quality iron."
Encrid nodded and held out another sword—the one referred to as the magic sword. "Could you sharpen this blade for me?"
The blacksmith examined it. "This doesn't look like an ordinary piece. Just the blade?"
"No. Replace the pommel and the hilt as well. The balance feels slightly off."
The blacksmith nodded. The blade itself was excellent, but the fittings were a mess. "Some good deerskin came in. I'll wrap the hilt with that."
Encrid paid a reasonable price and left. He stopped by a jerky shop for a snack, and before he knew it, evening had arrived.
"Not having any more?"
"It's time for me to go."
He couldn't ask the blacksmith for a new sword yet, so he planned to buy one from an incoming merchant. For now, he felt a sense of emptiness at his waist. Despite having a shortsword, a Guard Sword, and a knife tucked into his belt, he still felt bare.
The weather is nice, though.
But for some reason, the atmosphere in the territory was heavy. When he asked a few passing merchants, he got an answer immediately.
"Rumors say a bandit group is targeting the territory, and there's talk of monsters swarming from the south. On top of that, a messenger from the eastern territory came and made a scene, threatening us."
The Border Guard was a military territory bordering Azpen. A bandit group targeting a place like this? It would be impossible for any ordinary band. Still, there were always crazy outlaws. And monster issues were a constant.
As for the east? That was the Sword Territory. It was a daily occurrence for them to pick fights. However, the fact that such rumors were circulating was a problem. There was a saying that when ominous rumors spread, children multiplied and goods dwindled—meaning residents stayed indoors and merchants stayed away.
When the monster population had grown too large in the past, the Border Guard had deployed troops. Encrid had taken one of those requests back then. That was when he had slain the Harpy. It had been a good experience; the sensation of the strike had been deeply satisfying.
In any case, though rumors were circulating, no orders had come down yet.
They'll handle it.
A commander had their own duties. Though he had been appointed as a Company Commander, it was still unofficial—the Battalion Commander's personal, arbitrary decision, backed by the nobles.
There were plenty of snake-like bastards in this territory who looked as if blue blood truly ran through their veins. He didn't like them, but he couldn't just stab every one of them on sight.
It's not like I'm Rem.
When he returned to the barracks, he saw the man in question.
"There's something weird about your eyes," Rem said.
Rem's intuition was second only to Krais's, especially when someone was cursing him.
"Were you badmouthing me while wandering the market? No, you were cursing me in your head just now."
Seeing how sharp he could be, Encrid truly thought his intuition was extraordinary. Encrid acted according to his principles. Since a lie could be considered "white" if it put the other person's mind at ease, he gave one.
"No," Encrid said, shaking his head.
"Then why do I feel so annoyed?"
That's because you have a twisted personality.
"I think you just cursed me again."
"No."
A place where sharp intuition and white lies crossed paths. Encrid now felt as if this place were his home.
The Battalion Commander had said he hoped Encrid would learn to love the territory. Even if it wasn't a passionate love, he didn't dislike it. Sincerely.