Chapter 332: Stimulation Spreads Far and Wide (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 332: Stimulation Spreads Far and Wide (1)
The curse is breaking.
Esther realized.
She had believed she would suffer for decades to come, bound and tangled by this wretched curse. No—if she were unlucky, she might have suffered for over a century. If her luck had been truly abysmal, she might have lived her entire life with her Spell World contaminated.
The mere thought of it was horrifying.
Because the curse was so vile, she had been willing to do anything to break it. That was why she had slept in the arms of the human named Encrid. Now that there was no longer a desperate reason to do so, sleeping in his arms had become a rare occurrence.
The threads of the curse had finally begun to unravel properly.
She had also been lucky. While facing Galaf, who grasped the river, she had regained her old senses and even swallowed up a few of his Spell Objects. Naturally, some of those items had been beneficial to her own Spell World.
It would have been even better if she could find and raid Galaf's private laboratory, but she simply didn't have the time. Besides, he was a man famous for having numerous apprentices. Whatever treasures remained in that lab would surely fall to them. They would covet, steal, and slaughter one another until the sole survivor claimed it all.
A mage's greed made such an outcome inevitable. Friendly fellow disciples? That was nothing but a pipe dream. Who would even become a mage if they weren't intoxicated by the desire to seek truth and transcend human limitations? What utter nonsense.
Ah, those dumbasses.
She had once been caught up in such dog-eat-dog struggles herself, but not anymore. Thinking of Galaf's apprentices, who would gladly tear each other apart, warmed her heart.
No matter how one looked at it, Esther did not have a gentle personality. She knew this well enough. Though, for a mage, she was probably on the relatively sane side.
Actually, even in a place like this, gathered with nothing but weirdos, I'm still the normal one.
The same held true even among the Mad Company.
Her thoughts chased their own tails before returning to the original subject. She redirected her focus back to the curse.
The curse hadn't left behind only bad things; there were benefits as well. It was something she had never expected. For instance, she had gained the physical strength of a Lake Panther.
Of course, since it was a curse, it didn't bring only blessings. There were side effects, and they were quite significant.
My body's shape memory has changed.
A physical existence—the body—exists in the form that one perceives. This was especially true for mages who dealt with the mental realm of the Spell World; they had to maintain their physical form by accurately perceiving their own bodies. Otherwise, they could be consumed by their own Spell World and turn into an evil spirit.
Should I push myself here?
If she forced it, she could maintain her human form, but if she made a mistake in the process, the damage might truly become irreversible.
Esther made her choice. She gave up on insisting on a purely human form. Living half as a panther would be perfectly fine. She could always solve that problem in a different way later.
What frustrated her more was a different issue.
Stagnation.
Her Spell World had stagnated. Despite her constant contemplation and scheming while dealing with the curse, her progress had ground to a halt. It had stopped. There was no advancement.
That deeply unsettled her.
What should she do then? The same as before. She would simply repeat the process of waiting for inspiration, training her spells, and refining the shape of her world. After all, wasn't there a human right beside her who broke his limits through endless repetition?
Thinking of Encrid gave her a groundless confidence that her own problem would somehow be resolved as well. Her frustration eased slightly. Her mood improved. It was truly fascinating that a single human could affect her like this just by being thought of.
Having roughly sorted out her thoughts, she made her way back to the barracks. Clad in a black robe, Esther walked through the military camp. She was a beauty who drew everyone's gaze. Usually, men would lose themselves staring at her, but today, such glances were rare.
Hmm?
It wasn't that she felt disappointed; she simply found it strange. Esther quickened her pace.
Soon, she spotted Encrid. To be precise, she saw Encrid fighting while smashing a barracks to pieces.
It was entirely a coincidence. However, even coincidences are built upon the accumulation of daily cause and effect.
Encrid had just forced Teresa and Dunchabel back by using the Crushing Sword three times in a row, and was now exerting pressure on Rem.
"You think this crap will work on me?!" Rem roared, swinging his axe over his head.
Bang!
In reality, no sound was made, but Esther heard something like it. The spell Demuiller's Scythe is a spell that compresses wind to launch a vacuum blade. It was a spell superior in both cutting power and speed.
What were wind and vacuum-type spells, exactly? To be precise, they were arts that manipulated pressure. Then, what was the ultimate form of wind, pressure, and vacuum spells?
It was to influence atmospheric pressure. Through that, one could manifest abnormal pressure.
A portion of the swordsmanship Encrid displayed lingered in her mindscape, stimulating Esther's mind. The mage sank deep into her own world. If she fell into meditation like this, she would surely stand there blankly with a dazed expression, but she couldn't help it.
This was an opportunity to weave and acquire something new for her Spell World. She couldn't let it slip away.
*
"What is this?"
When Krais grumbled, Encrid replied, putting strength into his trembling legs.
"Sparring."
What else was there to say? Krais didn't press further either. It had already happened. What was the point of arguing? It wouldn't fix the broken barracks, nor would a man like Encrid show any remorse.
Yet, the corners of Encrid's mouth were curved up in a soft smile, as if he were thoroughly pleased. He looked refreshed. His faint smile was strangely infectious, making others feel good just by looking at it. Naturally, Krais lost any desire to nag him.
"Is this a rebellion? Are you planning to take my head and become the Castellan now?"
Castellan Graham, perhaps having suffered too much lately, had grown increasingly prone to nonsense.
"Would I really go to all this trouble just for that?" Encrid retorted, casting his gaze to the side.
There stood a breathtaking beauty who stole everyone's attention wherever she went. It was Esther. He had seen her approach, but she had suddenly frozen like a wax doll, doing nothing but breathing quietly.
He noticed the spectating soldiers forming a wide circle around her. None of them dared to touch her. Esther was also a member of the Mad Company. She was a mage who transformed into a panther, a witch who wandered around wearing nothing but a black robe and threatened to gouge out the eyes of anyone who dared peek at her. In short, she was an extremely dangerous entity.
Encrid approached the witch. He saw her eyes were completely unfocused.
What's wrong with her now?
He had no way of knowing. It wasn't common for someone to seek changes in their Spell World after being stimulated by his swordsmanship, and Encrid wasn't a mage anyway. There was simply no way for him to understand.
Esther was highly sensitive about anyone touching her body. The only person allowed to do so was Encrid. He picked her up and turned around. He lifted her effortlessly, supporting her legs. As he held her, her body went completely limp. She was like someone who had lost their soul while standing.
Is this what it feels like when I lose myself in the sword?
"She looks a lot like you when you're drooling, Captain," Krais remarked, glancing over.
Encrid didn't bother trying to guess Esther's condition. It was a mage's business. He had no idea what was going on. He needed to lay her down on a bed for now. Her eyes were rolled back, completely out of it.
However, as Encrid turned, only the ruined barracks met his eyes.
"Empty out another barracks," Graham stepped forward. "If you ever covet the Castellan's seat, just tell me instead of aiming for my neck."
Did this guy always make jokes like this?
Encrid let out a chuckle. Having poured out everything he had learned, practiced, and realized, he felt refreshed. No, it didn't end with mere refreshment. He could also see the path leading further forward.
"You have changed, Brother," Audin offered his praise.
"Not bad," Ragna muttered as well.
Dunchabel had fainted, and Teresa, running wild without knowing her limits, had her arm twisted by Audin. It wasn't broken, but she would need a day of rest.
Encrid laid Esther down as best as he could and stepped outside. Afterward, he sought out Rem.
"Damn, did you roast and eat someone else's heart on the battlefield or something?"
That was his way of saying Encrid's skills had improved.
"Do people in the West actually get stronger by eating human flesh?"
"There are crazy bastards who believe that, yeah," Rem said, wrapping himself in Thermal Leather.
His sweat seemed to have cooled. Everyone had just moved to the adjacent barracks. Aside from those inside, Rem was the only one left standing outside. That in itself was unusual. He wasn't going to wash up, nor did he have anything to say, yet he was lingering here?
The Rem?
Instead of narrowing his eyes, Encrid spoke.
"Rem."
"What is it?"
"Never mind."
Just before the sparring, the beginning of all this—where did the reason for this tense atmosphere lie? It was Rem. Encrid had picked up on it through intuition. Audin had also dropped a subtle hint.
He had been too busy dealing with the people seeking him out to check in often, but he felt that Rem's aura had subtly changed. It wasn't precarious, but it carried a sharp, biting edge. If he asked why, would he get an answer? Perhaps. But even if he knew, what could he do about it?
"Why stop mid-sentence? Doesn't it feel uncomfortable, like pinching it off mid-shit?" Rem grumbled.
Fortunately, that precariously sharp edge had faded slightly. Encrid decided to skip the pointless back-and-forth.
"Tomorrow morning."
"What?"
"We're going to have a proper spar."
One-on-one. As Encrid finished speaking with his eyes, a smirk played on Rem's lips.
"Seriously, do you have no intention of getting that head of yours treated? What, you think you can do something if you come at me alone?"
"Just don't cry after you lose," Encrid retorted smoothly.
Rem chuckled at his words. "Fine. Great. I'll make sure to make you cry."
It was after they exchanged a spark of fighting spirit. After Encrid walked away, Rem quietly looked up at the sky from where he stood. Stars shone brightly in the night sky. The warmth from the Thermal Leather and Heating Stones enveloped his body.
Hearing Encrid's receding footsteps, Rem felt his mind settle. A chuckle escaped him.
Does that bastard Encrid know something?
The thought crossed his mind. If he knows, what does he know?
Rem thought of that lazy, directionally challenged bastard. What the hell did you do out there? he asked inwardly. Of course, he would never ask him directly.
He had changed. Rem had seen how different the guy was now. That was the start of all this. That was why a strange tension had filled the air. It wasn't that Ragna had provoked him; Rem had simply recognized it. He would unleash a sword on an entirely different level than before. One could tell just by looking. His aura had subtly shifted.
Of course, a fight must be fought to be known. You only know who's taller when you stand back-to-back. That was always the case unless there was an overwhelming difference in skill.
The problem was that Rem had reacted to that change. He had become sensitive.
What if I use the sling?
Naturally, he began to think of ways to deal with Ragna. His rising momentum had provoked Ragna, and Ragna had no intention of backing down either.
"Are you asking to be buried?"
Since Ragna hadn't held back on his provocations either, would Rem back down?
"I'll crush your skull."
That was the beginning. Rem thought as he looked at the night sky.
Am I paying the price for what I gave up?
Even that thought crossed his mind. He traced his memories back to the past. He recalled the fortune-teller's curse directed at him when he left.
"You would abandon that power, that right? You will pay the price."
"Yeah, I'll handle it," Rem had said that and turned away.
At his words, the fortune-teller had beaten her chest and coughed up blood. She had been so furious. Well, the past was the past, and the present was the present. Ragna was Ragna, and he was himself.
That wildcat bastard.
Would things be less annoying if that bastard Sachsen were here?
They were certainly eyesores, but Encrid was too central a figure for him to actually wish them dead. This time, Ragna's change had acted as a catalyst, triggering a competitive streak in him, but Rem decided to shake it off.
If things go south, I'll just go back and take it.
There was something he had left behind in the place where he was born and raised. Who could do anything about what he had abandoned? If he reclaimed it, he would be able to look down on someone like Ragna.
*
The morning after they moved barracks, Encrid began his dawn training.
Audin had suggested they observe for a few days before starting proper training. Even now, he drenched himself in sweat every dawn, his limbs trembling. What on earth would "proper training" entail?
Dunchabel, who joined the dawn training, felt a wave of dread just hearing about it.
Should I quit?
Teresa didn't show it outwardly, but her pupils shook. That was how far Audin's training methods strayed from the norm, yet Encrid remained perfectly calm.
"I look forward to it," seeing him say such a thing made Teresa and Dunchabel realize once again how unshakeable his resolve was.
It also served as a stimulus for the two of them. A man who never gave up, no matter what, was right beside them. The half-giant and the beastman also felt a fire ignite in their hearts.
I won't fall behind, Dunchabel resolved anew.
Teresa the wanderer does not know how to give up, Teresa felt the same.
Just as they finished their dawn training and were about to spar with Rem—
"Captain."
A messenger ran over and called out to Encrid.
"What is it?"
"You need to come right away."
After striking down Count Molsen, Encrid had been personally handling the aftermath of his actions. It was troublesome, but it was the right thing to do. However, having his training time eaten away by this was a different matter.
"It's a noble."
He couldn't just tell them to piss off. Even if they were a non-hereditary noble, a noble was still a noble. Encrid found it incredibly tedious. He felt a renewed need to resolve this issue. He had already been in the process of finding a solution in his own way.
Encrid called out to that solution.
"Krais?"
Surely he isn't slacking off, is he?
Whatever else happened, he had no intention of greeting visitors if it interfered with his training and practice. Encrid's stance was clear.
Big-Eyes, who had just emerged rubbing his eyes, drawled, "Yeees?" He let out a yawn and spoke.
"I suppose it's time to make a move?" he said.
Encrid nodded.