Chapter 338: The Fourth Sword
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 338: The Fourth Sword
What was quickness of thought?
It was synonymous with the acceleration of the mind.
It meant gathering the information scattered around oneself and selecting the most efficient, rational course of action. In that process, filtering out unnecessary noise and determining what was truly needed required immense mental processing power.
As this speed increased, one's ability to map out the flow of a battle became extraordinary.
In this regard, Encrid found far greater enjoyment here than when learning any other swordsmanship style.
The sword that curved and parried like a snake—even if swung softly, the core truth remained that a blade was still a blade.
The soft sword, a sword of deflection.
Its true charm lay in the counter; only then did the swordsmanship hold meaning. Learning this had been a delight.
And what of the lightning thrust?
How could the process of obtaining the Will of acceleration in a single 'moment' not be thrilling? The process of learning was always bound to be enjoyable.
The Crushing Sword was no different.
It had begun as a way to withstand a knight's sword, born from a question posed by Ragna.
How do you cleave a lightning bolt?
Starting with that question, the answer he found during his search was to look the lightning in the eye and evade before it struck. In other words, thrusting one's sword forward before the opponent could even swing theirs.
Then, the extended sword would act as a lightning rod. Even if one couldn't cut lightning, one could deflect it.
And he had actually proven it. For a knight's sword was no different from a natural disaster like lightning.
The snake, the lightning, and the crushing weight.
Though the processes of acquiring these three styles of swordsmanship were entirely different, the nature of the ecstasy they brought was similar. After all, weren't they all techniques mastered with a single purpose in mind?
In that sense, the upright and precise sword—the Capturing Sword of the Orthodox Sword Style—was slightly different.
'I can integrate the techniques.'
As his calculation and thinking power were stimulated, his concentration boiled over like never before.
If the previous three swordsmanship styles were like stamping individual dots, this new sword born from the Orthodox Sword Style was like an unbroken line.
Between the rushing hordes of ghouls, hidden intentions began to peek through. As extreme concentration infused his Orthodox Sword Style, it felt as though he could see an inch into the future.
To counter what he saw, he could use the snake sword.
To force them to move according to his will, he could crush them.
To shatter the opponent's intentions from the very beginning, he could thrust first.
'Ah.'
Encrid marveled inwardly.
The Capturing Sword was a sword accompanied by precise calculation. Upon that foundation, he layered his techniques.
Even after creating the Capturing Sword, he had felt a sense of lack. Now, he knew what that lack was.
"You only improve when you recognize your shortcomings."
He recalled the advice of a certain mercenary.
Encrid did just that. He recognized it. He faced it.
What was lacking?
Now that he had established the form, it was time for the substance.
The snake sword had the substance of curving and parrying. The lightning thrust possessed the substance of preparing the entire body, starting from the feet, to pierce a single point. The Crushing Sword was filled by adding Intimidation to its core.
Therefore, the Capturing Sword of the Orthodox Sword Style needed something similar.
The substance didn't necessarily have to be another swordsmanship style. There wasn't even a need to insert a newly created technique. The point was simply that it required substance.
'That's it.'
Realization brought joy. And with joy, ecstasy filled him.
If this wasn't enjoyable, what could possibly be?
Under a pitch-black night sky without a single star, he had swung his sword to see the starlight. It was a light that had remained unseen despite countless 'todays' passing by.
Yet, Encrid did not know exhaustion. He simply swung his sword. Even while walking where he could not see and where no path existed, he never stopped his steps.
He walked and walked. He walked, forgetting his fatigue.
That was how he swung his sword.
How was it when the curse of 'today' was first bestowed upon him? There had been no need to verbally rebel against the Ferryman who sang of despair. For he held no fear of living today all over again.
Once more, he swung his sword.
Under these circumstances, how could he not be thrilled? Now, the starlight was visible, the path had opened, and even though he was no longer repeating today, a moment of realization had found him.
He was so incredibly, deeply happy.
"My, look how excited he is."
"At least he isn't drooling, Brother."
"Wandering Teresa shall assist."
"Help with what? There doesn't even seem to be a gap to squeeze into."
Starting with Rem, they all added a word from behind. Only Sinar remained silent, entirely absorbed in watching.
That man's sword was changing in real-time. The sharp senses of an elf sensitively picked up on every single change. No, the moment she felt the change, Sinar heightened her senses even further.
Of course, to an onlooker, this would be completely imperceptible. It would only look as though she were quietly observing. Sinar was making full use of the elven sense that allowed her to feel, learn, and master.
Encrid discarded the unnecessary information from what he heard. Listening to their chatter was not necessary right now. It was not a subject for selection.
Rather, sounds like the ghouls treading on the ground were what mattered in the present, right now.
Encrid did just that. He categorized the incoming sounds and selectively perceived only what was necessary.
Rustle! Thud, thump!
The sound of feet stamping and leaping on the ground.
Crack, snap, splinter.
The sound of tree branches snapping.
Graaaagh!
The distinct, retching screech of a ghoul, sounding as if it were throwing up its insides.
Scholars who researched monsters said that the reason ghouls made that unique screech was due to the stomach acid burning their insides. And that only human flesh could soothe that stomach acid. That was why ghouls consumed humans.
While some monsters attacked because they simply relished human flesh, was it not said that others were born that way from the very beginning?
This was not important information right now. He let it drift past and discarded it.
The accelerated framework of his thoughts accepted something new.
Amidst the ghouls noisily blocking his path, a damp, insidious killing intent mingled. That killing intent alone silenced its sound. It was the opposite of the other ghouls.
The creature moved stealthily, positioning itself on a thick branch directly above Encrid's head. With a soft rustle, the branch dipped slightly, but normally, anyone facing the rushing horde of ghouls right before their eyes shouldn't have had the luxury to worry about what was above their head.
Encrid held his silver longsword in his right hand and Spark in his left.
Then, he filled the Capturing Sword with substance.
Swish, tap, shuck, pierce, whoosh, crack, slice, plunge.
It was a beat. The blades danced to a precise rhythm.
The silver longsword slashed, cut, and cleaved. Spark thrust and withdrew. The two swords sang a single rhythm.
Taking rhythm as its substance, the Capturing Sword trapped the opponents within its frame. Within that frame, the ghoul horde was nothing more than moths rushing to a flame.
"Oh."
Rem let out a soft exclamation of admiration.
Meanwhile, Dunchabel slightly raised her head. There was something ringing alarm bells in her instincts. Audin and Rem didn't even look up, but starting with Dunchabel, Teresa also raised her head halfway.
Is there something there?
Teresa, too, felt an unpleasant sensation.
Encrid seemed entirely absorbed in wielding his two swords. A succession of tearing flesh and clashing noises, strangely rhythmic, echoed continuously.
"Above—"
Teresa's shout burst out reflexively but stopped.
With a whoosh, something dropped from above.
It was a creature half the size of an ordinary ghoul. Though it possessed the same greyish torso, its right arm was abnormally long, and the claws on that right arm were twice as long and sharp as those of other ghouls. It looked as if four awl-like blades had grown from it.
The moment all of this registered in the eyes, it vanished. As soon as it appeared, the creature plunged its awl-like claws, leaving an afterimage with a sharp swoosh.
The creature surged down from the branch, and Encrid swung his silver longsword—which had been moving in a precise rhythm—vertically, just half a beat faster, only once.
With his head as the exact axis, the sword drew a vertical circle.
Splat!
The blade split the rushing, mutated ghoul diagonally. A silver line passed from its head, through its torso, and down between its legs.
Simultaneously with the swing, Encrid slipped his body to the side. Even kicking off the ground and moving was within the framework of the rhythm. Even the sound of kicking the ground with a tap and landing with a thud matched the beat perfectly.
'He already knew.'
Teresa closed her mouth. He had noticed before her.
Come to think of it, Rem and Audin had also known, and they seemed to have realized that their captain knew as well. That was why they had remained silent.
Encrid did not lose himself and drool while swinging his sword. He calculated and calculated, yet he was adding to his realization once more that he must not be confined by those calculations.
'What if I can't calculate?'
He could simply entrust his body to intuition. He possessed a weapon perfectly suited for that. The Sense of Evasion—he only needed to overlay intention upon it.
There were over twenty rushing ghouls, and the strike descending from above was a dangerous dagger. An ordinary soldier would have surely met their death. A pincer attack from mere ghouls—ordinary people might have fallen for it, but Encrid and his companions were already far removed from the word 'ordinary.'
Watching Encrid fight like that...
"I can't take it anymore!"
Dunchabel was the first to burst. Her beastman sense of smell caught the scent of ghouls hiding in the forest. She charged straight out to Encrid's left.
"Aren't you going to stop her?" Teresa asked upon seeing this. Her tone was calm, but for some reason, a hint of impatience peeked through.
Encrid replied as he split the head of the last ghoul with a sword swung two beats slower.
Thwack! The top of its skull flew into the air.
"Stop what?" Encrid's voice drifted back.
"Dunchabel is charging in."
"Did you plan on just watching, then?"
It was a misunderstanding. She had thought Encrid was claiming all the prey for himself, declaring he would slay them all, but that wasn't the case. Encrid had simply been running wild out of sheer excitement.
Right now, a sense of satisfaction was welling up inside him. And Dunchabel running wild in the meantime? Regardless of whether he expected it, it didn't matter to him.
"More are coming," Sinar said.
The elven senses remained sharp even in a forest thick with poison. She detected the enemies before Encrid did. When it came to detection ability alone, she was incomparable even to Rem or the others.
"Well, then."
Teresa stepped forward as well. Watching them, her blood boiled, making it hard to hold back. Was this the blood of a half-giant, or was it proof of her identity as Teresa? She couldn't find the answer right now.
So, she ignored it. As a massive tree blocked her view, she swung her sword without hesitation.
Whoosh. Thud!
The sword lodged itself halfway into the tree trunk. Teresa felt that the tree was harder than she had expected. Though not quite like iron embedded with steel cores, she felt a compressed density.
So, she exerted more strength.
"Hup."
Grunting as she poured in the rest of her strength, her arm muscles expanded with a creaking sound, splitting the rest of the tree. As the tree tilted and began to fall forward, Teresa bashed the falling trunk with her shield.
Crash!
With a thunderous roar, the tree—three times larger than her—changed its falling trajectory and tilted forward. It was right where the ghoul horde was rushing from.
"Since the Lord watches over you," Teresa chanted a prayer as she watched the falling tree. "He shall surely grant you the opportunity to repent beneath Him."
Audin finished the sentence. He quite liked the prayer Teresa recited.
Teresa did not hide her boiling blood as she looked at Encrid. Along with a smile, her fangs were revealed. It was a physical change that had manifested as she trained her half-giant blood. Her fangs were sharp.
Then, she swung her arms like a windmill. The sword and shield in Teresa's hands bashed, crushed, slashed, and cleaved the rushing ghouls.
"Hahaha!"
Teresa's laughter echoed loudly through the forest.
"Wasn't this supposed to be an infiltration mission?"
"If that bastard of a grey ghoul hears that laughter and attacks us, I'd be grateful. If he runs away, I'd be even more grateful," Encrid replied to Rem's remark.
He was right. If it came out to attack, the time spent searching would be reduced. If it fled, they wouldn't have to fight in the environment it had established. Either way was fine.
"Well, that's true," Rem nodded. Finding it bothersome to use one's brain was a different matter from being stupid. Rem understood Encrid's point perfectly well.
"It seems things won't go exactly as you wish, Brother Company Commander," Audin said from behind, chuckling warmly as usual.
He was right about that, too. In the direction Dunchabel had leaped, creatures like the long-clawed assassin ghoul from earlier were scattered about. On the side Teresa was facing, there were ghouls half again as large as the others. Their greyish flesh was much tougher than that of ordinary ghouls.
'Normally, it takes two or three pikemen to handle a single ghoul.'
The ones inhabiting this forest were far trickier. Considering the pincer attack from earlier, even a reasonably well-trained unit would have had to suffer critical casualties. Though Encrid and his companions were not an order of knights, they possessed combat power on par with one, which was why they could fight like this.
"At least it's not boring."
Rem nodded again at Encrid's words. "That's true, too."
Rem, his hands itching for action, stepped forward as well.
Whirrrr!
He pulled out his sling and spun it above his head. Soon, ghouls that had been hiding and waiting for an opening, ones that could easily be called commanders, and even a peculiar ghoul with yellow eyes sprang out, but it was futile.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The stones scattered on the ground were Rem's weapons and divine instruments. About three of his slings broke, but the stone bullets he unleashed mercilessly shattered the ghouls' heads.
Encrid did not stop walking. As he did, he felt a subtly unpleasant sensation.
'A trap?'
It was just intuition, but it felt highly likely. Then, Sinar approached his side.
"I have a bad feeling, Fiancé."
Why does she never fail to use that title? Encrid thought to himself as he replied.
"It's this way."
The elven sense and his own intuition pointed to the exact same spot. That was where the ugly ghoul, said to reign as the king of this area, would be.
Encrid's steps headed in that direction. Indeed, the opponent's intentions could be faintly glimpsed.
'They're clearing a path.'
Though the display of intent was subtle, what they desired was clear. Looking closely with heightened sensitivity, it was obvious. Instead of high-risk ghouls, a path lay wide open through those that could be called ordinary ghouls—though even these boasted skin so tough and movements so agile that it would take five or six regular pikemen to handle them. At any rate, the area where the relatively weaker ones gathered was clearly visible.
It felt as though the entire ghoul horde was herding them in that direction. They were intentionally clearing a path. It was as if they were subtly urging them to go there.
"How pathetic. Truly." Hearing Rem mutter from behind, it was clear he, too, had read the move.
"It seems our brother ghoul is terribly eager to meet the Lord Father."
Audin quietly pronounced a death sentence.
Encrid moved forward without a word. Soon, they arrived at their destination. It was a clearing where the opponent's intentions lay completely bare.
The proof was the more than one hundred pairs of yellow eyes surrounding them.