Chapter 328: Quickness of Thought
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 328: Quickness of Thought
For three whole days, Encrid did nothing but ponder and review.
He had no other choice. He had pushed his body so far that it was a miracle he hadn't ended up permanently crippled. Consequently, he had to limit his physical training to the simplest movements—a few flexibility stretches and swinging his sword through the air just to keep his edge.
He spent the rest of his time in deep reflection. Not that he found it particularly boring.
"Training your body right now is like pouring water into a cracked bowl, Brother."
Audin meant that whatever effort Encrid exerted now would simply leak away, leaving nothing behind. In the past—before he began repeating this day—Encrid would have pushed himself regardless of whether the bowl was broken.
But now, he knew better. When it was time to rest, he had to rest.
"Only by resting properly can you move forward, Brother. Once, there was a goat named Nu. Nu knew how to walk without stopping, for he possessed incredibly strong legs. The goat Nu walked without rest. Nu believed that moving forward, and forward still, was the very reason he had been blessed with such sturdy legs. And so, Nu walked endlessly. Seeing this, the Lord spoke, saying: 'If you walk without looking at your path, you will not know where you are.'"
Audin droned on with his sermon. It wasn't unpleasant to listen to. Beside him, Teresa sat on her knees, listening intently. The two of them looked strangely well-suited. For one, they were of similar, massive stature, which had earned them the nickname of the "giant siblings." Looking at them now, even their auras seemed to have grown alike.
After Audin finished his sermon and nagging, Teresa quietly spoke about what had happened. Considering their first meeting, it could have been awkward, but Encrid knew how to navigate interpersonal relationships smoothly. If conversation required skill, Encrid was more than capable.
"Resting because of injuries... I suppose we are in the same boat," Encrid said.
"Yes, indeed."
"Since you killed the bishop, aren't they hunting you down with bloodshot eyes?"
"I do not know."
"And your response?"
"I plan to do whatever I can."
Surprisingly, Teresa wasn't well-informed about the cultists' affairs. It was difficult to gather any information through her. Even so, Krais seemed to deduce a few things after overhearing their conversation.
"Lately, I have been learning to sing," Teresa said out of the blue.
Her voice had a distinct huskiness to it. It could be described as having a rough wood grain, but through his hearing—heightened by his Sensory Technique—Encrid discerned the unique charm of her voice.
It’s husky, but...
It was an attractive voice. Like a piece of rough-grained timber that, if crafted by a master, would make for a magnificent piece of furniture. Encrid himself had no talent for singing, but he had picked up quite a few songs during his travels. Since Garret's voice was unexpectedly clear and beautiful, Encrid wondered if it might harmonize well with Teresa's husky tone.
"What were you doing while the Captain was busting his ass?"
"Fighting."
"I'm asking where you fought! Are you talking like that on purpose? Ah, you like getting beaten up, don't you?"
"I do not."
"Sure, sure, let's go. Let's get hit—no, let's spar."
Nearby, Rem relentlessly teased Dunchabel as if he had been waiting for the chance. Ragna dozed off in a corner; he, too, was recovering.
Meanwhile, talk of whether or not to hold a banquet went back and forth, but Encrid focused on resting, aside from his basic training. His rest consisted of pondering, reviewing, and talking with his squad members. He made sure to eat his meals heartily.
"If they deliver something called eel, make sure to try it," Encrid recommended.
Seeing Ragna nod beside him, Rem showed interest. "Approved by that picky tongue of his? I've had eel before, though."
"The seasoning is different."
Encrid felt a strange tension in the air inside the barracks. He had often seen Ragna and Rem ignoring each other with complete indifference, but a subtle friction lingered between them now. Since this was hardly the first time, Encrid easily ignored it.
"Ointment."
Sinar dropped by occasionally and handed him some ointment again.
"Did you raid an elven treasury or something?"
"How did you know?"
Having grown accustomed to elven humor, Encrid smoothly bantered back. "I knew by instinct."
"I heard you survived and returned alive thanks to that instinct. Impressive."
Sinar vanished in a flash after leaving him with those trivial words. In truth, she made the ointment herself. The medicine, contained in a small, worn earthenware jar, smelled faintly of fresh grass. The jar was old, but the contents were fresh—proof of her handiwork.
Even after Sinar left, daily life remained unchanged. Whenever Encrid had spare time, he delved deep into himself. He reflected on everything he had learned and mastered. Since he couldn't move his physical body vigorously, he had to keep his mind spinning furiously.
He had gained quite a lot this time.
Could I use this instinct in actual combat as well?
It seemed entirely possible. Broadly speaking, it could become an intuitive grasp of the turning points of victory and defeat on the battlefield.
But if I focus on the enemy right in front of me, I can use it in a different way.
This was a fact already proven through his encounter with the knight of the Ducal Knights. He possessed the boldness from the Beast's Heart, the sensitivity from his Sensory Technique, and intense concentration.
What was he lacking?
Pondering was about understanding. It was the power to cultivate an eye that could look directly at his current self. Having done this thousands of times, Encrid quickly realized what he lacked. More precisely, because he knew how to identify what he needed and what he was currently aiming for, the answer came easily.
What he needed now was the Quickness of Thought.
How to react to situations, moments, and phenomena. To think of multiple options rapidly, select the best one, and execute it. He had to become accustomed to the act of thinking itself, rather than relying solely on the realm of sensation.
Not intuition.
It was about condensing the process of thought. Indeed, the phrase "by instinct" already contained intuition born of experience. The conclusion, therefore, was the Quickness of Thought.
If he relied only on instinct, he would fall prey to a deceptive sword. How many advantages had he gained so far by utilizing the Valen-style Mercenary Sword?
Encrid did not think of himself as special. He always kept in mind that he could be defeated in the exact same way at any moment. It was only natural. Ever since he left his village as a child, hailed as a genius, his life had been one of endless battering and bruising. That was also why repetition and training had become second nature to him.
Once ignited, his thoughts burned without fading. While Encrid immersed himself so deeply, things were happening outside, but he couldn't care less. In fact, he couldn't even hear them.
"Who are you looking for?"
He ignored the faint external voices. Encrid delved even further, deeper into himself.
The knight.
That bastard's sword flashed in his mind over and over. Reading the trajectory of the sword was everything. He couldn't even read the knight's breathing, so he had to pay with his life countless times just to see it and react.
What is different?
He understood the difference. But what was the fundamental reason behind it? As he immersed himself and dug deeper, he began to feel something. By transcending the repeated today, Encrid had gained a different perspective.
What was the speed required to save the child? What was needed to overcome the wall called strategy was perception. They called the knight's sword "despair." It was despair, yet it was not despair.
His widened perspective and his experience fighting the knight woke something up inside Encrid. To overcome the knight's sword, he changed his perspective. Instead of blocking, he struck first. It was a way to bypass the condition of "one strike" imposed by the opponent.
Ah.
A small realization sparked like a flame, flickered out, and flared up again. The moment he perceived it, Encrid urged himself to change. What did he gain when he kicked off the ground to save the child?
The Moment's Will.
He needed the speed to slip through the brief gap when others turned their eyes away. And so, Will had manifested. It was the same when he was trapped in the framework of strategy. The Shackles of Ill Omen, the Sense of Evasion, placing the intent to attack upon his senses—were they all different?
No. They were the same. They seeped into and blended with his Sensory Technique. Kneaded and molded together, they became one. That was how he had acquired his absurd "instinct."
Had Will played no part in that? No, it had. He could feel it. It was possible because his willpower—his Will—had been overlaid upon his intent. It was just like when he realized Rejection to overcome Intimidation.
What about the Crushing Sword he had forged to withstand the knight's blade?
Here, Encrid hesitated. Should he take a giant leap forward? It felt as though he could. However, he wasn't sure if that was the right path. He thought he had merely closed his eyes while sitting, but he must have fallen asleep, for the Ferryman appeared before him.
"Keep doing what you've been doing."
The Ferryman's face flickered hazily before vanishing. Was it advice, or an interference? Encrid's instinct kicked in even at a moment like this. It sounded like advice.
Encrid set up a signpost and walked. He decided to take it one steady step at a time, just as he always had. He felt that was the answer. Having sorted his thoughts, he opened his eyes.
"Hey, how about you fix that habit of falling asleep at the drop of a hat?"
Rem's voice reached him. Without realizing it, he had lost himself in the world of the sword once again.
"How long has it been?"
"Two days," Krais answered.
But it seemed that wasn't the only issue.
"You should probably head over to the Castellan quickly."
"Why?"
"Someone has been waiting for you since yesterday."
Encrid quickly assessed the situation. He was inside the barracks, and Audin was nowhere to be seen. His hearing, heightened by his Sensory Technique, informed him that Audin was speaking with someone in the distance.
"I blocked them yesterday," Rem added, his tone somewhat grumbly.
Encrid could guess what had happened. Since he had lost himself in the world of the sword again—probably drooling—his squad members had stepped in to ensure he wasn't disturbed. But if Castellan Graham knew about it, he would have left him alone unless it was someone of significant stature.
"Who came?" Encrid asked as he stood up.
"Count Molsen," Krais replied.
"In person?"
"Yes."
At Krais's words, Encrid began to walk. The King of the Frontier, an ambitious monster and a high noble. If he had come all this way, he surely had some scheme.
"He explicitly said he came to see you, Captain. You must be careful," Krais warned.
A noble had waited for two days. Holding out any longer was something he could do if necessary, but it would be foolish. Encrid was crazy about the sword, but he wasn't stupid. He knew which path was the smoother one. Though he was hungry, his mind was clear, and his physical condition wasn't too bad.
"Wait a moment."
As Encrid walked out briskly, Krais followed. Thinking Krais would follow if he had more to say, Encrid headed straight to the front of the barracks. There, alongside Audin, stood a woman wearing a thin fur coat that accentuated her long black hair.
It was Esther.
"Tired of being a panther already?" Encrid remarked. Her fur had been so soft and warm.
At his comment, Esther turned her head. "I didn't become a beast by choice."
She was prickly, which meant she was her usual self.
In front of Audin stood a fierce-looking man and a woman clad in scale armor. The woman had her eyes half-closed, but a strange light seemed to emanate from them. The man looked as solid as a rock, while the woman stood with a perfectly straight posture. Behind them, several more soldiers stood in a line.
"I told you to listen to what they have to say before you go," Krais spoke from behind.
The woman, noticing Encrid, opened her mouth. She scanned his face and body with her eyes as she spoke. "Are you the squire named Encrid?"
"Yes, that's me. And who might you be?"
"See, Sister? He has come out because we waited," Audin intervened.
"It has been two days. To keep the Count waiting..." The man moved his rock-like mouth. As he clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles tightened visibly. They were muscles that looked capable of chewing through solid stone. Was his primary weapon his teeth?
They were in front of the barracks. The sentry on duty looked troubled, but Audin calmly added with his usual gentle smile, "Haha, well, he is out now, so all is well, Brother."
"Do you take the Count's name lightly in this land? You'll bring trouble upon yourself, big guy," the man warned.
Encrid stepped in front of Audin. Audin did not anger easily, but he wasn't the type to let an opponent's provocation slide either. Knowing this well, Encrid stepped forward. Even if he didn't intervene, Audin wouldn't immediately beat the man to a pulp, but it was better to keep things peaceful. Since he had come out, that should be enough.
"My apologies for the discourtesy. Let us go now."
"I believe we are first."
The woman with the straight posture spoke. She held a round helmet under her arm and wore a thick fur cloak, but her eye color was peculiar. Her pupils glowed white.
"She belongs to a clan that embeds spells in their eyes," Esther said from behind.
There's a clan like that? Encrid stared at her blankly.
So? Embedding a spell in her eyes shouldn't be what mattered. Of course, that was likely why Esther had stepped forward. She might have been concerned because there was a mage among the opponents. Esther had stepped up to make them pay if they tried any clumsy tricks. How dare they try to chant some pathetic spell here?
Encrid scratched his chin with his right index finger. To think all of this was to prevent him from being disturbed—it was quite surprising.
No, maybe it's not that surprising anymore.
He could easily anticipate that they would act this way by now. It was true.
The woman with the spell-embedded eyes spoke again. "We are from Vaisar. Someone who has business with you is waiting."
How many nobles were there in the Kingdom of Naurilia? Surely more than a few. Among them, Encrid was, to put it bluntly, practically a country bumpkin. He had been to the capital, but the cost of living was too high to stay, and there was little he could do there. That was why he had wandered the frontier. It wasn't for nothing that he had gone all the way to a remote coastal territory to meet a sword instructor.
But even Encrid knew of Centerpole, the House of the Thumb—one of the five families that made up the kingdom. It was Marcus's family home. The Marquisate of Vaisar, also known as Centerpole. A family that wielded immense influence even in the capital.
If Marcus had returned, he wouldn't have approached this way. Someone else must have come. Encrid grasped the situation with just a few words. His Quickness of Thought was put to use even in moments like this. He condensed his thought process, decided on an answer, and acted.
"Let us see them together."
Since what both sides wanted was obvious, it didn't matter if he handled them together. In fact, he thought this would be better for him.
At his words, the rock-jawed man and the spell-eyed woman looked at each other. It was clear that neither of them could afford to wait any longer. They had already shown a great deal of leniency. Had there not been rumors of him being a war hero—a man who might become a knight—they would never have waited in the first place.
Soon, both of them nodded.