Chapter 313: Slipping Through the Grasp
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 313: Slipping Through the Grasp
Some things are shrouded in darkness when unknown, but shine as light once understood.
He had grasped it. He had perceived it.
Thus, he saw the path made of light.
In his previous "today," he had prioritized intention over his sense of evasion. That had been the best way to save the child.
This time, he had to blend intuition and intention.
The thought that I must win through sheer force...
That was a narrow view. He discarded it.
Walls are flexible. The things trapping this "today" were not limited to spears and swords. Of course, spears and swords were direct weapons—physical realities that tore through his flesh and bone.
But was that all? Was that the only reality?
What truly trapped him was the strategist's mind. He had merely been dancing in the palm of the man's hand.
So, where do I start?
In this newly repeated "today," there was only one thing for the newly awakened Encrid to do.
How should he struggle to escape this day?
The answer lay within what he had already experienced. Encrid admitted that his mind, only now realizing this, was not very clever. It felt like a repetition of the same mistake.
Previously, he had been misled by the ferryman's words, narrowing his vision. This time, if the ferryman hadn't helped, he wouldn't have faced the real wall beyond the false one. Or rather, it would have taken him much longer.
Was that a problem? No.
Even without the ferryman's help, even if he had to repeat this day dozens or hundreds of times more... He would have done it. He would have struggled endlessly. He would never have given up.
In the end, he would have overcome it.
Suddenly, he missed the herb-gathering kid. The child he had saved—he had received the mother's gratitude, but he hadn't actually seen the child.
Had the words spoken then been blurted out in the heat of the moment? Or did the kid truly want to live a life gathering herbs? Asking what one's dream was—wasn't even the question itself strange?
Discussing dreams while living in a world like this could be considered a luxury, and yet...
"It's fun."
Still, he would discuss it. Still, he would ask.
As he got up, muttering to himself, an enemy soldier immediately came into view. He had overslept compared to other "todays."
"Over here—!"
The soldier couldn't finish his sentence. Dashing forward in an instant, Encrid clamped a hand over his mouth. Instead, the shout of the soldier next to him erupted.
"Ambush!"
It's not an ambush. You guys are the ones who came while I was sleeping soundly, Encrid thought as he used his grip strength to dislocate the enemy soldier's jaw.
A sharp crack of the bone vibrating through his fingers. Feats that Audin might perform had now become second nature to him. The skills he had mastered through the repeated "todays" had become flawlessly clean and proficient.
"Ack!"
The enemy soldier resisted. With his face gripped, he swung his fist. Encrid caught the incoming wrist and twisted it. At the same time, he spun around and locked the soldier in a bear hug from behind.
Crack.
The sound of the wrist dislocating followed.
"Krrgh!"
The soldier, jaw hanging uselessly, couldn't even scream. He only drooled profusely, his face turning pale.
Would a hostage situation work? He had already tried it. It didn't work.
"Fire!"
As expected, it didn't.
Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip!
Dozens of bolts flew through the air. Encrid threw the soldier forward and hurled himself to the side.
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
Over a dozen bolts slammed into the body of the jaw-dislocated soldier. Drooling, the man collapsed and died instantly.
Encrid drew his sword as he lunged. Where he leaped, he saw an enemy soldier staring with wide eyes. He swung his sword immediately. A blue trail of light drew a short semi-circle.
Whoosh, split!
Striking a downward crown-cleaving blow in the form of a snap strike, the helmet and skull split open simultaneously. It was like an orange split open with its peel and pulp still attached. The only difference was that the contents were brain matter and blood, not fruit.
Splurt.
Blood splattered onto his face. Encrid didn't care. Instead, he sharpened his sense of evasion—the blade of his intuition and sixth sense.
He had experienced this before. There had been a similar "today." At least, that was how Encrid felt. The basement of the shoemaker's house in the Border Guard market, where the mage had stayed.
It was that "today."
Pure instinct.
He had to sense the spell traps through instinct alone. Although the scale was larger and the situation was different now... he, too, was different from who he was back then. Vastly different.
Was it thanks to the ferryman's advice? Or was it just good luck? Encrid had learned one thing, but realized two. There was something else that would be even better to layer on top of intuition and his sixth sense.
I also need martial force.
Simply unraveling the enemy's strategy wasn't everything. Figuring it out and avoiding it wasn't the end. He had to add martial force to it. That was the answer.
As he honed and perfected his sense of evasion, Encrid welcomed the sense of foreboding with his entire body. He intuitively factored in his own martial force as well.
Here.
Encrid began to move.
*
After that, Encrid died six more times.
As always, he did not waste a single day. Even so, he needed seven more "todays." Even that was only possible because he had already experienced nearly four hundred "todays."
Encrid had seen every single measure the enemy strategist had prepared at least once. He couldn't know the process of how they moved organically. He didn't know what kind of military tactics they were using.
Encrid relied solely on his sixth sense and intuition. He judged based on intuition. He placed the standard of judgment not on reason, but on instantaneous sensation. He detected the foreboding and gauged its intensity. The moment he saw even a slight gap, he broke through it.
Disguising himself as an enemy soldier was pointless. Hiding was even more pointless. Once that shaman bastard appeared, no matter how well he hid, he would be found. And if hostages were useless too...
As always.
He just had to win with his own two arms and legs.
Burns remained on his back, and he hadn't fully recovered from the impact of the previous battle. The aftermath of the previous day's battle, which felt like an eternity ago, still lingered in his body, but...
"This is truly driving me crazy."
The mutter escaped his lips involuntarily. Walking because he could see the path—the fine hairs all over Encrid's body stood on end. It was thrilling. He felt like he could die of joy. He was so excited he felt like he was going mad.
Taking a step forward didn't necessarily mean just the growth of his martial force. The ecstasy of progress, of growth itself, surged through his entire body. Now that he realized it, it was pure joy.
"Pursue him!"
This was the result of all that struggling. At the start of this confident "today," Encrid's first move was decided.
He moved through the trees. He scanned his surroundings, searching for his target. It wasn't easy to find.
"Over there!"
He was pursued.
"Where do you think you're going!"
He stepped on the head of an approaching enemy soldier and split the head of the archer right next to him with his sword. Fighting relentlessly, wandering, and enduring, he finally saw it.
"Ugh!"
It was the shaman.
The moment they locked eyes, an invisible shockwave swept over him. His sense of evasion activated, and the shaman's spell became visible to Encrid's eyes. He captured it not with his eyes, but with his senses. It was thanks to his blade of senses, honed so sharp it felt as if it might break.
Perhaps he had seen it once or twice before; the blade of his sixth sense transformed into visualization, accurately showing him the enemy's trick. Having accurately sensed the approaching intangible pressure, ducking at the split second was child's play.
He ducked low, dodging the shaman's trick. The bastard didn't stop there, his lips twitching as he began to chant.
The moment Encrid ducked, he had already channeled strength into his toes. He concentrated power in his feet. The frozen dirt ground sank slightly beneath him.
A burst of momentary 'Will' erupted.
Boom!
Exploding off the ground, he charged. As Encrid kicked off, dirt erupted like a fountain. Stone fragments shattered and sprayed in all directions. It was a charge that could well be called monstrous strength. Now, he no longer envied the charge of the Associate Knight he had seen before.
With a whoosh, everything around him was swept backward. He slashed with his gladius as he dashed.
Relaxation, contraction, explosion.
Following the driving force, he twisted his waist muscles to transfer the power to his sword. A Heavy Sword Style Steel Slash tore through the shaman's torso.
Boom!
An explosive sound erupted from the slash. The shaman's upper body flew upward as if exploding. It was the result of a slash delivered at terrifying speed. Though it was a strike that was not yet fully refined, its power was devastating.
That's one.
This was just the beginning. The shaman brought foreboding to every step of the process. Only with this fellow gone could there be a next step.
So, he used martial force for this one. Next...
Amidst the foreboding closing in from all sides, Encrid stepped toward the area where the feeling was least intense. To the enemy soldiers, it looked like sheer madness. He seemed to be deliberately running toward where the heavy infantry held a firm line. Running toward the area with the highest density of soldiers made him look like a madman to anyone watching.
"Block him!"
The commander's shout split the sky of today.
To someone, today was a one-time event. To another, today was the hundreds of times repeated.
*
"Nilp, status!"
Abnayor had completely cornered Encrid. In reality, he had. He had killed him hundreds of times. But to one who repeated today, death was merely a deferred opportunity.
Of course, Encrid had almost been trapped. The trap Abnayor had prepared was just that fierce. A dagger that had somehow lodged itself in his heart, even though it had been invisible. Yet, there was always a human who would pull it out and forge ahead.
"It's not good. Even a loach couldn't slip away like this, but he's moving as if he knows everything we've prepared."
He was receiving real-time reports on Encrid's location. That was how serious he was about killing the man named Encrid.
Abnayor's brow furrowed. It was his habit when things didn't go as planned. His fingers tapped against his thigh. Was it anxiety? No. It was a movement born of intense concentration. Abnayor had absolutely no intention of letting his prey escape like this.
"Press him! Do not let him escape under any circumstances. What about Gray Dog?"
"They are pursuing him. He's tearing through the most densely packed areas of soldiers, which has thrown them off."
Is he moving with prior knowledge?
Is that even possible? Countless troops are pursuing him. Then naturally, he should move toward the gaps. One's feet naturally head toward where an opening is visible. It is human instinct.
That was how Abnayor had commanded. He had left a tiny gap open, stationed Gray Dog there, and even positioned mages and shamans. Pieces were scattered in disarray across the tactical board.
Abnayor quickly rearranged the pieces.
What if he is reading my tactics and moving in reverse? Then I just have to move in reverse as well.
Originally, he had stationed the swordsmen of the Hurier family in areas with low troop density. Now, it was the opposite. He moved all of them. He ordered them to pursue Encrid.
You are no knight. Therefore, you cannot break through a wall created by a thousand soldiers on your own.
What about the places where the engineering unit built stone walls? The cliffs? The traps hidden in between? There are over eighty places where pit traps were dug. He hadn't marched slowly for nothing.
Slam!
Abnayor slammed his hand down on the tactical board.
"It makes no sense to lose him after going this far!"
Foreboding—that was an ability anyone possessed. Encrid's sixth sense and intuition were closer to premonitions rather than reason. He hadn't grasped Abnayor's intentions.
If I go this way, something bad might happen.
He moved based on such simple, crude thoughts. That was what confused Abnayor. Time passed, and reports continued to come in.
"He is pulling back again."
What on earth was he doing now? A trap prepared for a bastard who had reached the outer perimeter, and he was suddenly returning to the center? Since he had already escaped the range of the spells, he must have gotten a rough sense of direction. Yet, they said he was heading right back to where the original encirclement was.
Of course, it was a trap. If he charged straight in, they were fully prepared to capture him. But how did he know to pull back?
"Injuries?"
"He was hit by two quarrels in the back."
"Poison?"
"None was applied."
Although he had selected elite marksmen and given them poisoned arrows, he hadn't given them to every archer.
Did he get hit on purpose, knowing they weren't poisoned? Did he deliberately avoid the dangerous arrows? That's paranoia.
It was an exaggerated assumption. A futile delusion. No human could possibly perceive all of that.
Or has he truly become a knight?
No, that wasn't it either. Although the reports indicated his skills had clearly improved compared to yesterday... he was not a knight.
Yet, he could not be caught. He had clearly placed him in the palm of his hand and closed his fist, but he couldn't grasp him. He slipped right through his fingers as if coated in oil.
How was this possible? The news that followed left Abnayor even more dumbfounded.
"Commander."
Nilp's voice was urgent.
"Speak."
Upon hearing the report, Abnayor lost his smile. The bastard named Encrid had been trapped in his palm, yet he had wriggled out and escaped. However, this was not the end. He still had measures prepared.
"What about Galaf and the Associate Knight?"
"We have sent a messenger."
"Tell them to come immediately!"
Galaf was a mage summoned by pouring out gold coins. And it wasn't just gold coins that had been poured out. There were countless promises made for this task. Furthermore, he was a precious figure borrowed with the king's permission.
Still, since he was the commander here, they would come if called. That was the agreement. He couldn't just send his apprentices and wash his hands of it.
Galaf and the Associate Knight. They were the ones prepared as the second wall in case he escaped this place. Of course, before that, the two of them each had their own tasks to perform.
Abnayor possessed an outstanding intellect. He was clever and quick-witted. He did not let his forces sit idle. That wasn't all; he had even envisioned the future after killing the elite few, including the bastard Encrid.
I will overturn everything. Change the flow of the battlefield. Reverse it. Overturn victory and defeat.
If everyone did their part, that would be the outcome. Such was Abnayor's intention.
"Recall the assassin unit as well!"
Following Galaf and the Associate Knight, he would use everything he had prepared. Abnayor's resolve was absolute.
However, not everything in the world went according to plan.
*
Everything feels foreboding. But there is still a path.
It was hard to even call it a gap, but so what if it was small? He just had to widen it with force. Simultaneously sensing the foreboding, he mobilized his martial force.
Encrid deliberately targeted the stone wall. He swung his gladius at the artificial wall built by the enemy soldiers.
It won't break from just this, right?
The dwarf who had handed him the sword hadn't seemed very confident, but Encrid was half-certain that the gladius currently in his hand was the strongest, in terms of durability, among all the swords he had ever used.
Crash!
He struck not with the edge, but with the flat of the blade. Part of the stone wall shattered. He kicked it and pried it apart with his hands. Meanwhile, he dodged some of the incoming arrows from the archers and endured others with his body.
He did exactly as his intuition dictated. This was better than trying to dodge everything. Hadn't he learned this through a week of failures? Indeed, he had.
Looking to the side, he saw several longbow elves holding poisoned arrows. If he had dodged hastily, he would have ended up with a few more arrow ornaments in his body. They were fast on their feet, making them a pain to chase down. To begin with, that direction felt incredibly foreboding.
The materials and data gathered from hundreds of "todays" and hundreds of deaths all helped provide intuitive answers. It was a tower built of experience—the source of the intuition that sensed foreboding.
Encrid struck the stone wall once more.
Crash!
A second explosive sound erupted.
Crumble.
Having made a gap barely wide enough to crawl through, Encrid struck the artificial stone wall repeatedly. Although the enemy forces swarmed him again in the meantime, Encrid eventually found his opening.
At the poorly constructed outer edge of the wall, where it met the cliff, the wall collapsed with a loud rumble. This was the very event that made Abnayor think he had wriggled out of his palm.
Dust billowed as the stone wall crumbled. The northern winter had been a succession of dry and warm weather. The dust quickly obscured everyone's vision.
"Mages!" Leblanc Hurier shouted.
They had just lost two of their companions. Only two of the four mages remained alive. Even that fight had been strange. Even though Encrid could have killed the remaining two mages with just a little more effort, he had backed off.
Of course, if he had hesitated then, his rear would have been completely exposed. How could he make the decision to back off at that exact moment?
Amidst the dust kicked up by the collapsing stone wall, Encrid's eyes shone a brilliant, deep blue. As his senses connected, his sense of evasion was opening a new path for him.
That meant...
I see the path.
His five senses blended, blurred, merged, and visualized before him. Thus, a distinct virtual line appeared before his eyes.
A path made of blue light. The path that would end this incredibly long "today."