Chapter 343: Are You Having Fun?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 343: Are You Having Fun?
Am I falling behind?
Sinar felt a sudden, sharp sense of crisis.
It was Encrid’s growth that had sparked this feeling.
Did winning or losing matter? No. The problem was that if she was pushed back like this, she wouldn't be able to provide the man before her with a decent challenge.
‘A man who lives for the fight.’
What was the best gift for someone striving to become a knight? What made his heart beat the fastest?
It certainly wasn't peerless beauty. That much was clear. The allure of the opposite sex held no sway over his heart.
Then what?
‘The sword.’
It had to be something found in combat, skill, or raw ability.
Naturally, Sinar held a trump card of her own. She just hadn't expected to pull it out here.
Elves matured by absorbing the forest's essence, and if they trained beyond a certain threshold, they could nurture a Spirit Tree within their bodies. Normally, this took hundreds of years of slow accumulation; that was the natural state of the elven race.
However, Sinar was different from ordinary elves. She possessed a unique talent—a talent for directly absorbing and cultivating vital energy, keeping it coiled within her body to be unleashed at the crucial moment.
Her hidden card. Her ultimate move.
Sinar drew her trump card now, solely because she wanted to see the look of surprise on Encrid's face and watch him run wild with excitement.
Her reason? Such a thing didn't matter.
‘Ah, this is fun.’
This was a first for Sinar. Her heart raced. Elation welled up within her. What was this feeling that arose the moment she perceived her opponent's shifting emotions?
It was enjoyment. It was pure fun. It sent goosebumps rippling across Sinar's skin.
‘Are you having fun?’ she asked inwardly.
Encrid's entire body was reacting through his heightened senses. Watching that brought her boundless joy.
Control your emotions.
It was a phrase she had heard since the moment she first became self-aware as a child. The elven trait of sensing others' emotions without a filter often bred a highly sensitive temperament, making them easily swayed. It was the downside of their natural sensitivity.
Since they knew the problem existed, it was only natural to solve it. And so, the elves did. They faced the issue head-on.
Elves practiced what they called mental discipline. They learned to govern and control their own minds, maintaining composure no matter the circumstances. In a way, it was similar to the Beast's Heart.
They controlled their minds, controlled their bodies, and ultimately mastered their emotions. Sinar had passed through all of these trials, which was why she could stand here today.
If the condition for Frok to leave his homeland was not losing his mind over the word 'heart,' the prerequisite for an elf was absolute mastery over body and mind.
They clashed swords, sweat beading on their brows. She saw Encrid's face as a drop of sweat fell to the parched earth.
His blue eyes, framed by black hair, crinkled gently. Light seemed to spill from his crescent-shaped eyes. It was just past noon; the brilliant spring sunlight poured down, enveloping his hair, casting a long shadow forward, and shading the left side of his face.
Watching him, he seemed to blend into the scenery, exuding a strange, almost mystical aura. The elf saw, smelled, and felt this entire scene with her heightened senses.
Elves were born with beautiful features. Their perfectly symmetrical eyes and eyebrows, along with the sharp bridge of the nose dividing the center of the face, often left those who looked upon them lovesick. The phrase "otherworldly beauty" did not exist for nothing. Elves were beings of beauty that transcended humanity.
Of course, there were occasionally those among them who fell short of this standard, but most looked unmistakably elven. Having been born an elf, Sinar had seen countless such beings.
‘If it's just about looks, I wouldn't know, but...’
The man's vibrant, lively presence dominated his surroundings. It was something she had felt many times before, but Sinar's attitude now was different. It wasn't a resolution, nor was it determination. It was a natural flow.
She would swing her sword, guided by her emotions.
Sinar did just that. She acted not out of cold control, but out of raw emotion.
*
It was intuition, or perhaps a sixth sense.
A sinister sensation brushed the back of his neck. A chill ran down Encrid's spine, and the fine hairs all over his body stood on end. It felt as if the Grim Reaper had stepped up beside him to whisper in his ear.
Everything he saw, heard, and felt blurred together, crossing into the domain of the sixth sense. A perspective opened up, as if he were looking down at his own body from above.
Encrid saw another blade aiming for his back.
Immediately after seeing and feeling it, he twisted his body aside. Pivoting on his right foot, he drew his Gladius with his left hand. As he drew it, he twisted his wrist to deflect the incoming sword with the flat of his blade.
Thud.
It wasn't heavy, but he felt a piercing sensation. Before he knew it, Sinar, who had been right in front of him, vanished.
The hairs on his body stood on end once more. As his thoughts accelerated, Encrid knew what he had to do. No, he felt it. It was time to pull out an answer born of pure instinct.
He threw the Gladius toward the source of the chilling sensation.
Whoosh.
In the brief window as the sword flew in a straight line, he drew Spark.
Ching!
Without even a moment to catch his breath, he drew a wide arc with Spark. The weapon was designed exclusively for thrusting, so he couldn't expect any cutting power, but the attack served as an unexpected strike.
And indeed, it was. Sinar wasn't flustered, but she acknowledged that Encrid's strike was highly creative. She met his sword and deflected it.
Screeech!
Spark and Naidel clashed, sending sparks flying.
Encrid let go of Spark as well. Then, he gripped his silver longsword with both hands.
Hup.
Taking a short, sharp breath, he heightened his senses to the absolute limit and activated Single-Point Focus.
For some unknown reason, Sinar's sword was in front of him, and it was also behind him. Both possessed physical form.
Was this a trick of Will? It didn't seem like it. It didn't feel like it, either.
Encrid swung his sword downward toward the Sinar in front of him. Sinar seemed to raise her sword to counter, but her entire body instantly blurred like a mirage. Then, Naidel thrust in from both the left and the right.
High-speed movement? No. They were all things with physical substance. A spell? Was it something infused with magic?
There was no time to think. The moment Encrid swung his sword down, he dove forward and rolled.
Two lines were carved into the ground where he had just been standing with a sharp slash.
Sinar did not wield her blade any further. Instead, she simply stood in place, quietly catching her breath. Remaining still, her gaze turned toward Encrid, who had not broken his stance.
"What did you just do?" Encrid asked, crouching on one knee after his roll.
The blade in his hand reflected the sunlight. Encrid had not yet lowered his guard. His posture and the aura of his blade alone were threatening, but the elf's vision and discernment were far from ordinary.
"Are you planning to propose to me here?"
What on earth was she talking about? Soon, Encrid realized he was kneeling on one knee.
"I'm saying I can still fight."
"Is that so?" the elf replied without a trace of a smile.
Before they knew it, the number of onlookers had grown. From guests who had come just to clash swords with Encrid once, to Rem, Audin, and Ragna. On top of that, Dunchabel and Teresa had naturally been drawn in as well.
What was it that had captured the attention of the mad company members? It was the divine skill Sinar had displayed. Her talent and technique were extraordinary—to the point where even Ragna thought it was out of the ordinary.
‘Did I know all elves could fight like that?’
During his wanderings, Ragna had often associated with elven swordsmen. The most memorable among them was an elf who used dual swords, aiming precisely for vital spots. The Sinar of now was several times more threatening than that elf.
She had clearly been in front of him, yet a blade had seemed to spring from behind Encrid. How was such a thing possible? Because it was precise and delicate? No, that was merely a characteristic of elven swordsmanship. She had clearly swung her sword into empty air, yet a strike had flown from behind Encrid.
Rem's eyes narrowed as well. What did that elf just do?
Audin was also watching with a smile.
"Magic?" Dunchabel asked, as if talking to herself.
"No," Teresa replied. She had plenty of experience dealing with mages. Her intuition told her it wasn't magic.
Sinar heard their words but let them slide past her as she looked at Encrid. A faint smile, blooming unconsciously, spread across her face—a smile that even Encrid had never seen before.
With that faint smile, she spoke. "Are you having fun?"
It was a simple question. The sunlight, the dust, the mild air—feeling all of it, Encrid nodded.
She asked if he was having fun. Of course he was. It was a technique he had never faced before. He didn't even understand it. The thought of dissecting and mastering its principles sent a thrill through his entire body. The fine hairs on his skin were still standing on end.
Encrid stood up. "Beyond measure."
"Then sparring with me must be the most fun."
It was an out-of-the-blue remark. So much so that even Encrid couldn't answer immediately. The most fun?
After the elf finished speaking, everyone paused for a moment to process it. After a brief but heavy silence, a loud thud sounded from behind the elf.
Thud.
It was a sound that naturally drew everyone's attention. It came from behind Encrid. Audin was holding a posture, having just thrown a short punch into the air.
"Brother Captain, have you gotten a feel for the ultra-close-range burst yet? Once you get the hang of the trick, you'll find a different kind of fun. There is no greater pleasure in the world than learning and mastering new things."
Hm?
Encrid's thoughts ground to a halt. He wondered what on earth Audin was suddenly talking about.
Audin wasn't the only one. Beside him, Ragna swung his sword.
Swish, swish.
"A fast and heavy sword."
It was a sword imbued with Will. That wasn't a style one could learn simply by being taught. Perhaps his past self wouldn't have known, but his current self did. If one wished to become a knight, mere imitation wouldn't suffice. One had to forge their own path. Because he was currently walking in that direction, he knew this truth all too well.
"Even if you can't learn it, can you really say you feel nothing from sparring alone?" Ragna spoke as if reading his mind. He stopped his sword, his eyes shining with resolve. It was like a firm, solid blade.
Encrid wondered if now was really the time to flare up one's fighting spirit like that. As he stared blankly, a third figure stepped forward.
"Look here, this is something I roughly picked up after watching some crazy old man do it. It'll be good for you to learn." Rem could be seen tightly wrapping a cord around his axe.
What were these guys doing? Were they all emphasizing that sparring with them was fun too?
"Then was fighting with Teresa the wanderer not fun?" Teresa asked, and Dunchabel rolled her shoulders. She looked ready to pounce at any moment.
Since everyone seemed to be staging a silent protest, Encrid couldn't help but chuckle. What was there to say? Just because Sinar had given him a thrill, would his interest in sparring with the others vanish?
They said if a hundred people gathered, there would be a hundred different colors. Encrid was practically dying of joy just from learning or experiencing anything new.
Encrid burst into laughter.
It was at that moment a new voice cut through the air.
"What's this? Do I have to stand in line just to talk to Company Commander Enki?"
There were many watching the spar, from mercenaries to regular soldiers. Among them were Bel and Vengeance. They turned their heads toward the source of the voice.
It was a familiar voice.
"Have you been well?"
His neatly trimmed beard and hair showed the touch of a professional. The clothes he wore looked different from those of the Border Guard. A man leaning on a short cane stepped out from among the soldiers.
Marcus Vaisar, the former Castellan.
The way he raised the hand holding his cane made him look like a loafer visiting a neighbor, but the guards standing behind him exuded a formidable aura. Dust covered their shoulders; it was obvious they had come straight here at the end of their journey without even washing up.
Encrid offered a military salute in response to Marcus's greeting.
"Aren't you going to offer me a cup of tea? Do you have a habit of keeping your guests standing outside?" Marcus spoke, and Encrid thought to himself that it would be more appropriate to ask the current Castellan for tea.
Still, he couldn't exactly turn him away. Judging by his appearance, it seemed he had come straight to Encrid without even stopping by the city's administration.
"I asked if you're going to give me tea," Marcus pestered him once more.
Encrid nodded. It was time to end the spar.
No one felt any lingering regret. Encrid also needed time to reflect on what Sinar had just shown him.
‘A sword strike that can be felt and has physical substance, yet is physically impossible.’
How was that possible? What was the principle behind it? He needed to ponder, review, and deliberate on it.
"That killed the mood," Rem summarized in a single sentence.
Sinar spoke with an indifferent expression as she turned away. "A nuisance. A total nuisance."
Whether she truly thought so was impossible to tell from her face alone, but she backed down obediently.
Looking at Marcus's smiling face, Encrid thought: He interrupted at a truly impeccable moment.
"Let's go."
There was no way there would be tea in the barracks. Encrid headed toward the mess hall.