Chapter 234: Pel Was a Genius
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 234: Pel Was a Genius
‘What did he just do?’
None of those present were blind. Every single one of them had seen and understood exactly what Encrid had done.
‘Evade, slip inside, and strike.’
It was a sequence of movements anyone could perform.
Except, this was different. Even if anyone could do it, executing it with such effortless, fluid ease was a completely different story.
If Encrid had achieved this result through some unique swordsmanship or a clever trick, they might have admired his ingenuity, but they wouldn't have been this shaken.
"Hmm?"
The Half-Giant's eyebrows twitched. Beside her, Swallow Blade’s reaction was the same. He suddenly gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles whitening.
It was a purely reflexive action.
‘If he did that to me right now, could I block it?’
He could. Because he had seen it coming.
‘But what if I hadn't seen it beforehand?’
Even though the season of frost had not yet arrived, a chilly wind seemed to sweep through the clearing. Swallow Blade let go of his sword and rubbed his arm. Goosebumps erupted along his skin as a sudden chill took hold.
‘What the hell is that bastard?’
Only a few days had passed.
Swallow Blade wasn't the only one reeling. Everyone, including Rem—who was firmly on Encrid's side—was stunned. However, none of the squad members allowed their shock to show on their faces.
In truth, they were becoming somewhat desensitized. They didn't understand how it was happening, but since Encrid had pulled off the impossible several times already, they simply chose to suppress their bewilderment.
‘What did he do?’
Audin watched Rem stroke his chin, his own thoughts mirroring the other man's.
‘Even if the Isolation Technique alters one's constitution...’
Could a non-existent talent suddenly manifest like that?
Audin trusted his own eyes and his discernment. He knew how to read a body through the lens of the Isolation Technique. Though he lacked the specialized eye of Frok, the Talent Reader, he was more than capable of evaluating potential.
In his eyes, Encrid was not someone who had ever set foot in the realm of talent. He was no genius. A genius? He could hardly even be considered a common prodigy.
‘He has nothing but sheer persistence.’
That stubbornness that refused to surrender. That iron will that would not back down before any trial or hardship sent by God.
And because Encrid stood in that place now... Audin saw the will of God.
God spoke. His father conveyed His will through the boy.
Will you give up? Why? Because I did not grant what you wished? And so, your faith ended there.
Thus, the flower of your faith has withered.
Thus, your spring has passed.
Thus, your season has ended.
"No, Father," Audin muttered under his breath.
Ragna did not turn his gaze, even though Audin spoke right beside him. In fact, he hadn't heard a word. He was too busy watching Encrid.
‘Again?’
Encrid had changed.
It was astonishing, but that was all. He had changed, Ragna was surprised, and now he simply recognized the new reality. Seeing Encrid grow stronger had become a familiar sight.
How did he improve? How could he change so drastically?
Ragna had stopped looking for reasons. Knowing wouldn't change the outcome, and he wouldn't find the answer anyway. If he asked, the response would be predictable.
"Just worked hard, I guess."
Or, if he was in a joking mood:
"Turns out, I was a genius all along."
He would say some nonsense like that. Therefore, there was no need to ask. Ragna would simply accept the reality before him.
Everyone was surprised, but the most shocked was Edin Molsen, the one who had just been struck. The second most surprised, however, was Encrid himself.
"Again!" Edin Molsen barked, springing up from the ground.
He was remarkably fine considering the hit he’d taken. Encrid had pulled his punch instinctively. To be precise, at the moment of impact, he felt that if he swung with full force, the Count's son would end up coughing up blood. He had held back, and thanks to that, Edin Molsen was able to jump back up and run his mouth.
Encrid blinked three times, processing the sensation.
‘Ah.’
A brief realization followed. Sparks from a flint flickered and vanished in his mind.
‘Pel.’
Why had he struggled so desperately to defeat the Shepherd of the Wilderness from the moment they first met?
‘Because he's a genius.’
A genius younger than himself. Pel gave off a similar aura to the kid who had beaten Encrid to a pulp when he first set out across the continent.
In other words, Pel was a genius. That genius had raised his own skills to match Encrid's growth in real-time.
In the repeating today, Encrid had eventually prevented Pel from even drawing his sword, but once Pel held a blade, he was never a pushover. His habits changed frequently, and he corrected his flaws on the fly. Although Encrid was the only one trapped in the loop, his opponent had evolved alongside him.
Consequently, Encrid hadn't been able to feel his own skills improving. His opponent's talent was simply too overwhelming for him to feel superior.
‘It's thanks to Pel.’
Because he had been so preoccupied with Pel’s sword, he hadn't seen his own progress clearly. He had recognized his opponent's excellence, but he hadn't realized that he himself was changing to match that excellence.
Having understood everything, Encrid spoke.
"Very well."
Encrid nodded at Edin Molsen's challenge. He, too, wanted to move his body again and feel the difference. He needed to consciously recognize and grasp his new limits.
"...You."
The Rapier Swordsman was so shocked he couldn't even finish his sentence. His mouth hung open, his eyes trembling. Ignoring him, Encrid faced Edin Molsen.
"Don't think you can rely on the Goddess of Fortune again!" Edin hissed, implying the previous clash had been a fluke.
Once again, Edin swung his sword down.
Whoosh.
Encrid evaded 'in advance.' When fighting Pel, he had to predict movements by reading footwork, shoulders, hands, arms, and waist simultaneously. Otherwise, he would be wounded in an instant, and the spar would end.
This was the reward for countless matches and wading back against the river of death.
He opened the Gate of the Sixth Sense and utilized it fully. His senses ran wild, reading the trajectory of the strike before it even manifested.
After dodging the blade, Encrid pressed down on Edin's wrist, hooked his left foot behind the man's heel, and shoved his chest with his palm.
Edin tried to twist his body to resist, but despite being the one who initiated the attack, he had lost his positioning, balance, and timing entirely.
Edin floated into the air with a sharp whoosh.
Falling with a heavy thud immediately after, Edin gasped, his mouth opening and closing. He looked like a landed goldfish.
Come to think of it, when they first met—back when Encrid had mistaken him for a coachman—he had tripped him with this exact same technique.
It was Valaf-style Martial Arts: Off-balancing.
"Are you alright?" Encrid asked.
Edin's face flushed a deep crimson. Two spars. Both had ended the same way. Moreover, the second time, he had fallen for the exact same trick. He couldn't possibly claim the Goddess of Fortune had intervened this time.
Edin wasn't shameless enough for that. He stood up.
"I lost."
Edin spoke and turned to leave. Then, stopping mid-turn, he looked back.
"Did you really forget my name?"
Encrid stared at him for a moment. He should have remembered; his memory was usually quite good. But nothing came to mind. What would happen if he admitted he truly didn't know?
Before Edin Molsen's face could contort in anger, a voice intervened.
"Brother, it was a provocation. What's the point of asking?"
A clear, resonant voice called him back. It was his blood brother. At the words, Edin clicked his tongue and turned away, looking frustrated yet strangely relieved.
The brother merely stared blankly at Encrid, his eyes unreadable.
Encrid turned his head. There were others remaining: Swallow Blade, the Half-Giant, Count Molsen's guard, and the Rapier Swordsman.
"Who's next?"
"Me first."
The answer came before the question could even settle. The Half-Giant stepped forward, tapping her shield with a heavy thud.
"Let's fight."
Until over four hundred days ago, Encrid had thrown himself into sparring with them like a madman. He fought and refused to back down. In that process, things had changed—naturally, even if Encrid hadn't intended them to.
The Half-Giant's fighting spirit flared. She knew very well that her state of mind was different than usual.
‘I don't know what he did, but...’
This man had a knack for making people want to fight him. He also had a knack for making her ponder her sword and shield day and night. Above all:
"I will break you."
He was exceptionally skilled at provoking her competitive spirit. Had there ever been an opponent she absolutely wanted to defeat before? No. This was the first time.
The corners of the Half-Giant's mouth curled upward into a grin.
Seeing this, Encrid was secretly stunned.
‘I thought she was expressionless.’
He remembered her clearly. Even if he had forgotten Edin Molsen's name, the Half-Giant's face, specialty, and skill remained vivid.
When Encrid extended his sword, the Half-Giant tapped his blade with her own.
Clink.
It was a warrior’s greeting.
Soon, a shield blocked his vision. A gray barrier—the Half-Giant's specialty, and a technique he had fallen victim to multiple times. Back then, he had to use quick footwork to dismantle it, but now, there was no need.
As the shield blocked his front, Encrid charged straight ahead. He didn't circle around or move nimbly. It was a stubborn, straightforward charge.
Closing in tight against the shield, Encrid shifted his sword to his left hand, laid the blade flat against the upper rim, and twisted his posture to press the outer edge of his right foot against the bottom of the shield. He ended up pressed sideways against the metal, his right hand placed just below its center.
The oncoming force was immense, but because of the proximity, the Half-Giant couldn't see Encrid's movements. No matter how great your talent, if you are blind to the strike, you can be caught.
Against the charging shield, Encrid used a variation of a 'lifting throw' from the Valaf-style Martial Arts.
"Splendid, Brother!" Audin shouted.
Encrid ignored the shout and executed the move.
Whoosh.
Using her own momentum against her, he lifted from bottom to top. If Encrid's physical strength had been lacking, he would have been crushed like a mantis under a carriage, but he possessed the Heart of Monstrous Strength.
That heart, which had grown sturdier through the repeating today, made his blood surge. Pushing off with his right foot and hand, he absorbed her weight and lifted her with the strength of his left hand and torso.
Encrid braced his core and threw her upward.
It was a spectacle that left both the Half-Giant and the onlookers wide-eyed. It was her first time experiencing flight, let alone being tossed by raw strength. She flew through the air in sheer astonishment, a sight that seemed to defy the laws of physics.
As she fell, the Half-Giant reflexively pointed her shield downward.
Thud!
She used the shield to break her fall, avoiding serious injury, but her defense was delayed. Having thrown his opponent exactly as intended, Encrid’s sword was already at her throat. The blade stopped a hair’s breadth from her skin.
The Half-Giant realized she had lost.
"...You threw me?" she asked, breathless.
"Why? Is it your first time? There's a first time for everything," Encrid replied nonchalantly. Sometimes, his cheeky tongue moved faster than his thoughts.
"I suppose so."
The Half-Giant conceded. Encrid didn't think she needed to leave just because she lost; there had been a bit of luck involved since she hadn't gauged his true strength. She was not an opponent to be defeated so easily, and Encrid knew this better than anyone.
"Let's try again tomorrow."
The Half-Giant stared intently at him. Her large brown eyes, usually devoid of emotion, now held a spark of something new.
"You really are a strange fellow," she said, standing up with a hearty, cheerful air. "Sure. Let's do it again."
"Well, that was quite a throw," Rem called out, expressing his admiration. "Could you spar with me as well?"
The Half-Giant wasn't the only one Encrid had influenced. The guard, too, was quietly burning with passion.
Encrid rotated his arm.
‘Just now...’
Hadn't the Heart of Monstrous Strength pulsed with more intensity? Rem hadn't admired the throw for nothing; he must have seen the dynamic surge of power. This, too, was a result of the repeating today.
"Sure."
Encrid nodded. He was starting to enjoy this—the process of recognizing and utilizing his own growth through combat.
The spar with the guard was different. The man was cautious, his sword focused entirely on defense. Encrid swung slowly at first, then accelerated.
Watching this, the Rapier Swordsman realized that Encrid was testing his own limits. A natural question arose.
‘What kind of monster is he?’
How could a person change so much in a few days? It wasn't that he had learned a grand new technique. Rather, every technique he already possessed...
‘...was mastered.’
It looked as if he had tested his skills countless times while risking his life. He moved with the confidence of a man who had swung his sword endlessly to find the perfect path. A person who has wandered down a thousand wrong paths does not hesitate once they find the right one.
‘How?’
The accumulation of years was visible in Encrid's body. Though the method was incomprehensible, the fact was undeniable.
The spar was long, but it ended in the guard's defeat. He had been at a disadvantage from the start by focusing solely on defense. You could not defeat Encrid while hiding your true strength.
Finally, the Rapier Swordsman stepped forward. He faced Encrid, preparing to crush him with Intimidation.
"Just because your skills have improved doesn't mean anything will change."
So he had polished his basics? Did that change the fundamental gap? 'Will' was the exclusive domain of the gifted. If anyone could reach the heights through effort and time...
‘...then everyone would be a knight.’
The breed known as knights would not be so scarce. He was certain: his opponent could not overcome his Intimidation.
"Step back."
The Rapier Swordsman summoned his intent. Formless blades of pressure rose around him.
Encrid's usual response was to parry every formless blade he could see. He used to do that.
But now, it was different.
Chink.
Encrid sheathed his sword. There was no need to swing. He realized it the moment he faced the pressure.