Chapter 293: Training Began
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 293: Training Began
"So, what exactly is this about?"
Hmm, he hasn't left yet.
Krais was still standing in front of him. He waved a hand in front of Encrid’s eyes, speaking as he did so.
"Can you see me? Hello? Can you even hear me?"
"What are you doing?"
"Ah, so you can hear me now."
"My ears are perfectly fine."
"Though I can't say the same for your head."
Should I give him a smack for getting cocky? Encrid wondered. Is Krais acting up because Rem is out having fun?
Before Encrid could raise a hand, Krais spoke up again.
"If this is about that weird question you asked earlier, go ask Esther. And do you realize we have a mountain of more urgent matters to deal with right now?"
"I'm delegating full authority to you. Handle it yourself."
"Ah, shit, then I'm going to run away!"
"Except for that."
Krais mouthed a curse too foul to speak aloud and turned around.
"Why is my life like this..."
His lament sounded almost endearing. At least it meant he wasn't going to run away immediately.
Encrid placed his hand on Esther’s head again. Even if she couldn't become human, the knowledge inside her wouldn't have gone anywhere. The Esther he had seen so far was no ordinary mage. Even among the spellcasters who manifested mysteries, she seemed exceptional.
Surely she would know something? He hadn't asked with high expectations, though.
"Esther, you heard me, right?"
He simply tossed the question out. Esther slowly raised her upper body. If she were human, her joints would have popped and cracked, but the flexible body of the panther merely bent like a bow and straightened.
Once up, Esther drew something on the ground with her claws.
Scratch, scratch.
It was a simple drawing. A single shape, followed by three lines behind it.
What is this? Her drawing skills certainly made him ponder. Perhaps it was abstract art. Esther then drew something long and sharp a short distance away from the first shape.
Definitely abstract art.
Encrid admired Esther’s artistic world for a moment. She never learned how to draw. Spells and drawings were two entirely different things. He had heard of a mage who babbled about spells being art, but that was utter bullshit.
Esther tapped the long, sharp shape with her paw, then swiped her paw across the shape drawn on the opposite side. The dirt floor was instantly swept away. The easel representing her artistic world returned to being a plain dirt floor.
Encrid was a good listener and quick-witted. Even if the teacher was terrible, he knew how to learn. This time was no different. He read the intention hidden between the abstract shapes and lines.
"Cut it before it activates?"
Esther let out a low, purring growl and curled her body back up. Since the weather was cold, she wanted to get more sleep. Feeling like Esther was whining about the cold, Encrid picked her up and went back inside the barracks.
Whoosh.
He laid the panther down next to the torch stand and was twisting his body to relax and stretch his muscles when Audin walked in.
Krais was probably running around trying to find some sort of solution. Ragna, filled with unprecedented motivation, was likely practicing his swordsmanship nearby. He wasn't sure about Sachsen; the man was probably doing fine somewhere on his own.
Thanks to that, it was just him and Audin.
"Brother."
Audin called out to him. Encrid knew what he was going to say without even hearing the rest. It was about healing. Since Audin possessed divine power, he could heal the injuries remaining on Encrid’s body.
If only his right arm and left leg could recover right now...
It would make things much easier, but...
Was that right? Could that truly be called the right path?
Encrid was incredibly quick-witted. Because of that, there were things he had figured out. Although Audin hadn't poured out his past, putting together his actions, usual attitude, and everything he had said so far made it easy to deduce.
He was either exiled, under a restriction, or unable to use his divine power freely for some other reason.
He had also noticed that although Audin pretended to be unfazed after using his healing power on him before, there was an aftereffect to using divine power.
"I cannot heal you completely, but I can lessen the pain."
"No need."
His refusal was swift. Above all, it was meaningless. He wouldn't be fully healed anyway, and reducing the pain was pointless. Pain was proof of being alive.
Especially now.
When the scroll wrapped around the child exploded, he had felt his body being torn to shreds. Was he the only one?
The kid must have felt even more pain.
Thinking about that made him furious. He didn't know who the bastard was that came up with this sick trick, but he absolutely refused to let things go the way that bastard wanted. He didn't want to avoid it just because he thought it was a ridiculous, underhanded trick.
He wanted to slash, strike, thrust, cut, and beat it down head-on. And a method had presented itself in just a single day. Thanks to Esther.
I just have to cut it first.
It was incredibly simple. For a wall, it was almost disappointingly easy. He pulled some seasoned jerky from his breast pocket and popped it into Esther’s mouth. The panther held the jerky in her mouth and chewed it up deliciously.
"Brother, do as you wish."
Audin spoke and turned away.
An interesting brother.
It seemed he had sensed Encrid’s condition—the restriction and the limits on his divine power. He couldn't know perfectly; Encrid had never told him. He must have figured it out purely through intuition.
Yet he was being considerate? In a situation like this? Even if he had decided to stand and fight instead of running away, one would think he'd want to do something about his injuries. Yet there wasn't even a hint of that.
That was why he was an interesting man.
I ask my Lord Father in heaven, what is it that tempers that man's heart?
Naturally, there was no answer. But no answer was needed. Audin prayed silently, unheard by anyone.
My small and precious brother, if you so wish, I too shall lend my meager strength on this battlefield.
His opponent was also clear. Audin believed that crushing the skull of the one leading the pack of wolf demonic beasts was his God-given task.
*
After Audin left, Encrid pondered the fast sword. He continued to chain his thoughts together. Reviewing and organizing was one of his specialties.
And so, he did.
A fast sword.
There was what Zimmer of Martai had shown him, and even before that. Rem had been fast, and Ragna had been fast too.
"I shall march forward through pain. I shall not offer my prayers to the Lord to forget the pain, but shall bear the suffering given by the Lord in its entirety as I press forward."
Even the bear of a man suddenly reciting scripture in front of the barracks was fast. Who among them had been slow? What about the swordsman who had exerted intimidation over him?
Fast, and fast again.
Among them, the most recent one he had seen was the sword of that bastard Lycanos.
It was too fast.
Without a doubt, it was by far the fastest. Speed. What he needed right now was pure speed. Encrid immersed himself, and as he faced the exact same day, he stepped forward and swung his sword.
"What pain does not kill me!"
"Only makes me stronger!"
Encrid stood among the soldiers shouting the slogan vigorously. It was a path he trod, carrying with him something he had explored and obtained.
Yesterday, it exploded around there.
He would go out to meet it before then.
"Huh?!"
As he suddenly dashed out past the front lines, he heard the startled voice of a soldier beside him. He ignored it and ran. As he accelerated, his left shin throbbed, but it was fine. It wasn't to the point where he couldn't walk.
He saw the eyes of the child running toward him widen in surprise.
Slash.
He saw the scroll. It was a dull, reddish parchment wrapped around the child's body. Swinging his sword to cut only the parchment was not a difficult task. In the past, he wouldn't have even dreamed of it, but now it was easy.
It was just a moment before he could do it. Just as Encrid’s blade was about to touch the child's body—
Flash!
Light flared. Once again, the spell exploded. He was definitely faster than yesterday, and he had dashed out and swung his sword before even arriving, yet it exploded before that.
Someone in the back was adjusting the activation timing of the scroll.
The bursting light burned and crushed the child's eyeballs. Skin ruptured and tore, and from within, entrails and broken bones splattered in all directions.
His head felt hot. The heat reached his eyes. His activated concentration forced him to witness every single detail. Bearing witness to it all, Encrid died once more.
Fucking hell.
As the new "today" began, what he had seen seemed to linger on his retinas. At any rate, repeating it just one more time was enough for him to know everything he needed.
The third identical morning dawned.
"Yeah, I'm going to do that."
"Do you really have to go that far—wait, what? Huh?"
Answering Krais’s words in advance, Encrid stood up and gripped his sword. Esther, who had been nestled in his arms, let out a low growl of complaint and slipped back into the spot where she had been lying.
"Phew."
Encrid caught his breath and stepped out of the barracks.
"...What is it?" Krais stared blankly in bewilderment.
"What else? Training."
Dunchabel provided the correct answer. Having decided to follow Encrid after seeing him, Dunchabel guessed what he was about to do from his movements and stood up herself. She was planning to give her scimitar a vigorous swing. With Rem gone, her body was itching for action.
Stepping out in front of the barracks, Encrid cleared and shook off the lingering images on his retinas, then organized his thoughts. Now that he saw the path forward, all he had to do was walk it.
"Seriously, what is up with him?" Krais’s dumbfounded muttering drifted from behind, but Encrid ignored him with his usual refreshing indifference.
Then, gripping his sword, he thrust it forward. It was a mad sight precisely because it was just like any other day. He began his training.
*
Do one's best with the day given. Even without intending to, Encrid did just that. Starting with contemplation, he realized and manifested it with his body.
As usual, Audin offered to heal his body.
"No need."
He refused. It was a daily routine. In this repeating today, if there were things that changed, there were also things that remained constant. Audin’s aura was one of them. Every time Encrid refused the healing, Audin would recite some scripture or pray while taking a stance.
It seemed like he might cause some sort of trouble, but from what Encrid had observed so far, he spent the day quietly.
"Healing?"
"No thanks."
It was a repeating day. Each time, Audin let it go without asking for a reason. Encrid didn't question it either, accepting it as part of his daily routine.
"Transform."
On some days, he would lightly toss Esther against the wall while chanting something resembling a spell. He wondered if she would transform if she got pissed off, but it only resulted in more scratch marks on his face. In truth, he hadn't expected much anyway.
Other than that, he roamed around the battlefield as if searching every nook and cranny. He even asked a bowman with outstanding archery skills.
"From this distance, could you shoot off just the cloth wrapped around a body?"
Maybe it's possible if he's good enough—shooting an arrow so the tip hits exactly the edge of the cloth.
"Do you really think that's possible?" the soldier asked back, looking utterly dumbfounded. With that, Encrid gave up on the idea.
If so, he had to get close no matter what. Then what about infiltrating before the scroll carrier set off? What if he rescued the child before everything even started?
"Where did Sachsen go?"
"No idea. Haven't seen him since yesterday evening."
Hearing Krais’s answer, it seemed Sachsen had been missing since last night. Come to think of it, even as the day repeated, Sachsen was the only one who was never seen.
Tossing Esther or snooping around other places was just a sort of habit. There were cracks in the wall that made today repeat. Hadn't he utilized them several times before? That was why he was checking.
He also inquired if there were any mages within the unit. But since when were mages so common?
Though for being uncommon, I feel like I run into them pretty often, he thought, scratching his chin idly.
Except for a brief look around during lunchtime, he did nothing but swing his sword. There were times he forgot the time, forgot today, and even forgot his purpose.
Ah.
He sometimes fell into a state of selflessness while thrusting and swinging, forgetting himself entirely, but he had never succeeded. In this manner, nine repetitions of today passed. He never slacked off on any of those days.
Yet, it was a failure. It was within reach, yet so far.
Why?
He questioned himself, harboring doubts. There had to be a way. There was no wall that could not be overcome. Encrid chewed over what he had learned. Thanks to repeating today nine times, there were things he had confirmed and was sure of.
First, that it was indeed a scroll, a spell.
Second, that Esther gave a warning growl before it exploded.
Third, that someone was watching and detonating it remotely.
Fourth, that even if he dashed forward to save the child, he couldn't be faster than the activation of the magic.
While these were the things he had figured out, there were still things he didn't know. Was it true that simply cutting the scroll would prevent it from activating? Was this the right path?
Doubts and distrust had surged during the fifth repetition of today, but Encrid lightly brushed them aside. Whether it was right or wrong, if this was the only thing he could do right now, then doing it was the right choice.
"Run instead of wasting time worrying. If you don't have talent, you should at least have stamina."
Those were the words of the sword instructor of a small trade territory he had met. He was the very first decent teacher Encrid had ever met. It was only natural that physical stamina was the foundation of everything. And it was also natural that the body manifesting it had to be in good shape.
"Don't get hurt. If you're lazy with your daily physical maintenance, you'll end up flailing at a crucial moment. And if you flail, you die."
He was a man who had taught mercenary-style practical swordsmanship based on countless real battles. A child of a merchant family listening beside him had said: "Cut the obvious clichés and let's do this properly."
...But Encrid had taken the mercenary-turned-teacher's words to heart back then. He didn't dismiss them just because he had learned them for a few copper kronas. He took the opposite path of the merchant's son who criticized the advice as nothing but obvious clichés.
He listened and executed. He swung his sword instead of wasting time worrying. He melted their words, their advice, and the lessons gained from swinging his sword into his own life.
Do not neglect physical maintenance.
He had kept that word quite faithfully as well. His shin and right arm were injured, but it was fine. Ever since he was forced to use his left hand, Encrid had pushed his left hand hard as well. He never stopped training. If he did a hundred downward strikes with his right hand, he did a hundred and fifty with his left. Because he had done so, his left hand did not feel awkward now.
"This is training in case you lose a leg."
There was also what he had learned from Rem. You never know what will happen in a fight. What if one of your legs suddenly stops working?
"In that case, this is how you fight."
It was a nameless footwork. It was a trick of shifting stance and position by flexing and extending the muscles of a single foot. It was brutally difficult, and trying to master it felt like dying, but what he did back then was truly not in vain.
"It's a decent way to kill time."
Hadn't Sachsen, who was watching, praised him like this? If Sachsen had thought it was truly useless, he would have told him to dodge daggers in that time instead. After learning how to kick off the ground with one foot like that, he even gave it a name.
"Let's call it the Limping Step."
He hammered what he learned into his body and refined it once more. Through nine repetitions of today, Encrid was in the process of manifesting a sword with his left hand that was faster than his right.
It was no easy task. There were repeated failures. There were times when his sword barely grazed the kid's body, but as if someone was watching from somewhere, the scroll exploded immediately.
Encrid drew hypothetical scenarios in his head over and over again.
I need preparation.
He applied what he had learned from Sachsen. What must he do to draw the fastest sword? Could he not block the watching eyes?
It was when fifteen repetitions of today had passed. It was a time when anyone would think of the word 'despair', as a wall that seemed easily surmountable blocked their path.
"Out of pity for you, I shall tell you the way. You have two paths."
The Ferryman said.
Pity? It was a word that truly did not suit the Ferryman.