Chapter 262: Are You an Onion?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 262: Are You an Onion?
"To walk like a snake, you must expand the range of motion in your joints."
Encrid had mastered the Snake Walk under Audin’s tutelage, layered the swordsmanship of the Swallow Blade over it, and fused them with the Soft Sword Style he’d learned from Ragna. He blended these with everything he had seen, learned, practiced, and experienced until now.
The concept was simple.
‘The Soft Sword Style is about blocking, deflecting, and dispersing.’
It was a discipline that prioritized letting the opponent exhaust themselves. Lionesis Oniak, the one who first synthesized the five swordsmanships, had defined it as such, and his successors followed that path.
‘But does it have to be that way?’
Encrid likely wasn't the first to have such a thought, but he might be the first to give that doubt form—to infuse it with intent and forge it into a distinct style of swordsmanship.
That was how he created it.
Deflect to create an opening, then strike simultaneously.
He would disperse the enemy's momentum while driving his own blade forward. The idea was simple, but execution required razor-sharp senses and years of combat experience.
Encrid had exactly those.
However, deflecting and counter-attacking in a single motion meant he couldn't put his full weight into the slash or thrust. To be precise, it was difficult to even muster half his strength.
But was that a problem? If strength was lacking, he could compensate with something else. He just needed a sharper weapon. It only had to cut at the slightest graze.
Encrid had taken a whetstone to his blade, honing the edge to a lethal degree. Reborn from the magic sword Tutor into a legendary blade, it was sharp enough to compensate for any lack of raw power.
So, he utilized his weapon to its fullest. He slid along the opponent's deflecting blade, slipped inside their guard, delivered a stinging bite, and pulled back.
This was the result.
“You’ve lost an eye,” Encrid said, standing perfectly still.
Meelun—clutching one side of his face with his palm—blinked with his remaining eye. He had fallen while trying to evade the strike, landing hard on his backside.
Who is this guy?
What the hell is this bastard?
No, wait—what just happened?
A flurry of chaotic thoughts rushed through his mind. Instead of overthinking, Meelun kicked off the ground and lunged. It looked as though he were pushing off with his buttocks, but in reality, he used the elasticity of his knees to launch himself forward from his fallen position as if flying.
Losing sight in one eye didn't matter. Years of combat instinct guided the Frok's hand, allowing him to pinpoint his opponent's position.
‘He deflected it.’
He understood the trick the opponent's sword had pulled. In that case, he simply had to strike with enough force that it couldn't be deflected.
It took only a single step to close the distance. In that brief moment, Meelun's forearm seemed to swell to twice its size, appearing to bend unnaturally. The thick Loop Sword held in that arm blurred like a mirage as it plunged downward.
Encrid felt the strike coming. He opened his five senses, and his newly awakened Sixth Sense mapped the trajectory. He met the blow. To an ordinary observer, the clash was too rapid to register, but to Encrid, the strike was as clear and tangible as if he were catching it by hand.
The force behind the Loop Sword wasn't what it used to be. It was a feint.
He had wondered why the bastard was mindlessly swelling his muscles. Just as Encrid was about to slide his blade against the flat of the other's sword to deflect it, the trajectory of the Loop Sword shifted.
In response, Encrid twisted his waist, pivoting on his ankle, and applied the principles of Valaf-style Martial Arts to his sword. It was a split-second flash of intuition. By adding the force of his rotation, he smacked the flat of the Frok's blade.
Clang!
The meeting of metal brought a thunderous roar. An intangible shockwave surged from the impact, but neither man flinched. They endured it with their tempered bodies.
Meelun did not panic, nor did he underestimate his opponent. Using the rebounding force, he spun half a turn and swung his sword horizontally. Encrid, as if dancing, drew a curve in the air with his sword to meet the blade once more.
Shriiiiiiing!
Sparks flew between them alongside the screech of grinding metal.
Squelch!
Then, the sound of tearing flesh mingled with the friction. Encrid stepped back, flicking his sword downward to clear the blood from the steel.
“...You.”
Opposite him, Meelun blinked his lone eye.
What on earth is this?
Since his previous fight with Encrid, Meelun had trained harder than ever. He had nearly died after slaughtering several cultists. He had slain monsters, cut down demonic beasts, and even wandered near the Demon Realm.
It was all for today—to crush the human who dared interfere with his business and satisfy his desires. For a Frok's desires were sometimes terrifyingly persistent. Meelun's desire was simple: to savor the sense of accomplishment that came with defeating a worthy opponent.
The human before him was the perfect target. A being weaker than him, yet struggling desperately. Yet, his efforts to obtain a deeper sense of accomplishment had failed to pay off.
No, his efforts had paid off perfectly—it was his opponent who had changed.
‘This makes no sense.’
Facing someone overwhelmingly stronger than himself was far from Meelun's desires. Based on his Talent-Reading Eye and his experience, it made no sense for him to lose. Even now, his combat instincts told him he should be winning.
But what was this?
His current skill was vastly superior to his past self. Yet, the man who had barely managed to match him before had taken his eye with a single strike. And this time...
“Where... where is my arm?”
The absurd words slipped out of his mouth. It had been there a moment ago. Now, it was gone.
They had clashed swords only twice; the first exchange cost him an eye, and the second cost him an arm. The limb, severed below the elbow, lay discarded to the side, fingers still twitching as they gripped the Loop Sword.
The regenerative power of a Frok was remarkable, and wriggling flesh was already swelling from the stump, but for now, he had lost both his weapon and his reach. Overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all, the Frok lost his mind. His eyes rolled wildly, and a long tongue lolled out of his agape mouth, writhing.
“Are you going to keep going?”
Encrid saw that Krais was safe. He had already confirmed that Krais was crouching in the corner of the hall, not even tied up. In other words, this Frok hadn't killed anyone yet.
There were things he wanted to ask. Namely, who had ordered the collection. Whether more bastards like him would show up, or if it ended here; whether this was the work of the Black Sword, or if the Count had been plotting against the territory for a long time.
The answer was simple. He just had to ask this Frok.
“Enki.”
From behind, the Elf Company Commander called him by his nickname. He figured that was probably better than "fiancé." He realized why she had called out when he looked back at the Frok.
Meelun reached inside his heart armor and pulled out a small leather pouch. He lifted it and shook it over his mouth. As the drawstring loosened, a powdered medicine poured into his throat.
“Be careful,” the elf warned.
Soon, the Frok's eyes turned blood-red. Blinded by a single, consuming desire, the Frok made a choice he would surely regret if he ever woke up. The drug’s effects manifested instantly.
“Graaaaaaaah!”
The Frok let out a bizarre shriek and charged. He was incomparably faster than before.
Encrid had already assumed his stance, pulling his right foot back the moment the Frok began shaking the powder. Watching the charging Frok, Krais's eyes widened in terror. Behind him, the Elf Company Commander took a step forward, her hand on her hilt. Gilpin, who had been standing by the door, fell flat on his backside in shock.
Encrid's Sixth Sense grew sharper than ever. As Single-Point Focus activated, the world slowed down. He felt the illusion of heavy, dense air wrapping around his body. The powder Meelun had spilled scattered in the air, reflecting the light like tiny stars.
The Frok loomed large, right in front of his nose. Encrid held his sword diagonally. Having closed the distance, the Frok thrust his foot forward in a devastating kick.
‘Even if I slash him...’
The oncoming body would crash into him like a boulder anyway. It was the Frok's signature tactic: trading flesh for bone.
Boom!
With an explosive crash, one of the colliding figures was sent flying into the wall.
“Captain!” Krais cried out.
He hadn't been able to follow the exchange, but even he could see the Frok had gone berserk. The collision shattered the wooden floorboards, kicking up a cloud of dust. Through the haze, a blurry figure waved a hand and spoke.
“Why are you calling me?”
Ah, shit. I thought he was a goner.
As Krais let out a sigh of relief, the Elf Company Commander stood frozen, her hand still resting on her sword.
“What was that just now?” she whispered.
She replayed the scene in her mind. A kick flies in. Encrid placed the flat of his blade against the opponent's shin and deflected it. A Frok's skin is naturally slippery; it was a deflection that utilized that very trait. Of course, it was no easy feat. If he had been off by even a fraction, the kick would have shattered his skull.
Deflecting it was a miracle, but he hadn't stopped there. Encrid had drawn a shortsword with his left hand and used the flat of the blade like a mace to strike the Frok's heart armor. By striking precisely at the center of mass, he shattered the armor and delivered a devastating shock to the vitals.
“You've improved tremendously,” Sinar said.
She judged that even she could no longer guarantee an easy victory against him. In a simple spar, she could no longer confidently say she would win.
‘He might be even trickier than a barbarian.’
Seeing the startled elf, Encrid merely shrugged. “You seemed to recognize that powder,” he noted.
“It's something I've seen recently.”
“Let's clean up here first,” Krais said, approaching after regaining his composure.
Encrid nodded. He looked at the Frok, who had smashed through the manor wall and was now wedged between the bricks. His heart hadn't burst, but he had fainted from the shock. No matter how much the drug fueled him, a Frok's weakness was the heart. Encrid had targeted exactly that.
The difference in skill was absolute.
“But Captain, you're really strong,” Krais said.
Even though he already knew, it was still surprising. Gilpin, meanwhile, stood with his mouth agape, unable to utter a word. He hadn't even gotten up from the floor. These people were monsters who had nothing to do with his world.
“We're heading back for now,” Encrid said.
He captured the Frok alive. Since the creature would regenerate if it didn't die, taking him prisoner was the right call. It would help resolve his questions.
Encrid slung the unconscious Frok over his shoulder. As they stepped outside the manor, a chilly breeze brushed against his cheeks. It hadn't been a long fight, but he had worked up a sweat. The wind felt refreshing.
As sweat trickled down his temple, the Elf Company Commander reached out and wiped it away.
“Are you an onion?” she asked.
Encrid paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You show a new charm every time. I wondered if you were an onion, since no matter how much I peel, there's always another layer of flesh.”
Encrid became deeply curious. What exactly did jokes look like in the elven world? Was this normal? Or had she been kicked out of the elven forests because of her sense of humor?
He glanced at Krais, but Krais was busy pretending to be deaf.
“Oh, he has quite a lot of loot on him,” Krais said, rummaging through the Frok’s bag.
“Did you not hear that?” Encrid asked.
Krais lifted his head. “Pardon?”
He was ignoring it. Knowing this was a technique Krais often employed, Encrid decided to mimic it.
“What is that powder?” he asked, changing the subject.
“It exists. A troublesome thing, my onion fiancé.”
The Elf Company Commander, completely unbothered, gave Encrid a fresh new title.
Can I swear at her? Encrid wondered, shutting his mouth. He would just have Krais look into the drug later.
“My onion fiancé, your eyes are saying something. You look as if you're staring at an apple grown in a swamp.”
“...A swamp apple?”
“Apples grown in swamps are nothing but rotten and diseased.”
He took that as an insult. Encrid thought the Elf Company Commander seemed a bit too excited. He didn't ask why. He simply acted like Krais. He heard, but chose not to listen.
“Hey, fiancé. You look like you really don't want to answer me right now.”
“Esther has come to greet us,” Encrid said, feeling a wave of relief at the sight of the panther standing in front of the barracks.
Just as he said, Esther was waiting ahead. Encrid's steps were light. In the past, he had barely managed to hold his own against Meelun, but now, things were completely different. It had ended as easily as a light stroll.
He had changed that much. Encrid smiled to himself as he walked toward Esther.