Chapter 357: Learning While Teaching
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 357: Learning While Teaching
Clang!
Encrid blocked Andrew’s opening strike.
It was a straightforward, vertical downward slash.
Blade met blade. Encrid’s gaze locked with Andrew’s over the clashed steel. Andrew’s mouth was clamped shut, his eyes wide with intense focus.
Has he improved?
Encrid couldn’t tell yet. His memory of how well Andrew used to fight was already hazy.
Instead of launching a counterattack, Encrid shoved the blade away and stepped back. Andrew immediately followed up with a thrust. Encrid gently deflected the incoming point and shifted his stance.
He stepped forward with his left foot.
Andrew didn’t notice. As he pulled back his sword and swung diagonally, his blade was caught and parried by Spark, which Encrid held in his left hand.
Lately, Encrid had been training to deflect blades using nothing but timing and sensory perception. It was a movement reminiscent of elven swordsmanship—naturally so, as it was a soft-style technique utilizing Sinar’s delicacy.
Though he hadn’t fully mastered it yet, the gap in their skills was so vast that deflecting the blow was effortless. With a dull thud, Andrew’s sword clashed against Spark, its momentum disrupted and redirected harmlessly into the air.
"Ugh!"
Andrew gasped, catching his breath as he forced his sliding sword to a halt.
In that brief window, Encrid dug his left big toe into the ground, gripping the earth as he sprang forward.
Creak.
Using his left foot as a pivot, he propelled his body forward. He didn’t even need to use Moment’s Will.
Closing the distance, he stepped forward with his right foot, shifting his center of gravity. In a single, fluid motion rising from his ankle to his waist, he thrust his palm forward. It was a strike that combined Valaf-style martial arts with Audin-style Gather and Burst.
He didn’t put his full strength into it. If he had, Andrew’s internal organs would have ruptured, killing him on the spot. He didn’t use his grip strength to amplify the impact, nor did he tense and release his entire body’s muscles. He merely applied the technique of a snap strike.
Encrid’s palm connected with Andrew’s abdomen.
Thump!
It sounded like a leather drum skin rupturing.
"Gack!"
Andrew’s body flew backward, his feet lifting off the ground.
Was that too hard?
It felt a bit heavy. Having stumbled back, Andrew retched, dry-heaving stomach acid. He spent a long moment struggling to catch his breath. Even so, he didn’t let go of his sword.
He really has improved.
As Encrid watched him quietly, a voice interrupted.
"Lord Andrew!"
Mac rushed over in alarm. Mac, who had once been Andrew’s protector, was now his butler. When one’s position and circumstances change, one’s conduct must adapt. He had become a vassal serving Andrew.
As a pale-faced Mac hovered by his side, Andrew waved his hand. It was a gesture saying he was fine, though he continued to cough violently.
"Are you trying to kill him?" Rem asked.
"I didn't hit him that hard," Encrid replied.
"He’s coughing up a storm over there."
"I think he just choked on his own spit."
"...You call that an excuse?"
Ragna, who had been watching, chimed in with the last remark. Why did these two always seem so perfectly in sync at times like this?
Andrew took a few deep breaths and waved Mac away. "I’m fine."
His voice was slightly raspy, but he hadn’t sustained any serious damage. It was a blow on the level of a cotton mallet. Of course, that "cotton mallet" referred to the kind of mallet Audin wrapped in cloth to beat Encrid with during training.
"It would be a shame to end it like this. Don’t you think?" Andrew let out a long exhale and waited for Encrid’s response.
From his demeanor, Encrid could tell Andrew had a hidden card up his sleeve. He found himself looking forward to it.
"Sure, let’s keep going."
"Yes, let’s."
Andrew, too, had crossed the line of death to reach this point. Shifting his stance diagonally, Andrew took a step forward.
A few more clashes ensued, but naturally, Encrid won every exchange. At one point, Andrew closed the distance and tried to ram him shoulder-first, but Encrid handled it with ease.
"Did you learn wrestling or martial arts as well?"
"You remember Audin, right?"
"The soldier who looks like a bear?"
"Yes."
"So Audin taught you."
Andrew knew well that Encrid was the type to learn from his own subordinates. Even though the technique he had spent years painstakingly developing had been broken, Andrew felt a sense of relief.
To be honest, there was no one around these days who could suppress him like this. Ever since he surpassed Mac, he had no one to spar with comfortably. Even as a baronet, from the moment he sided with Krang, he had essentially been marooned on an island. While everyone else mingled and formed factions, he was entirely alone.
He had been dying to test himself against knights or other skilled fighters. Lately, he felt as though his skills had plateaued. In such circumstances, Encrid’s appearance was like rain after a long drought. Beyond mere welcome, a surge of sheer joy welled up inside him.
"Why don’t you stay for a few more days?"
The offer came naturally. The eyes of the five Gardner family trainees watching them also sparkled. It was a spar from which they could learn so much just by watching. In truth, they couldn’t even properly track the movements, but such a powerful figure clearly had a connection with their lord. Surely, they could pick up at least a few crumbs of wisdom.
Encrid scanned the five trainees and their wide, shining eyes. In his estimation, at their current level, they should be spending all day swinging wooden training swords. It was not the time for them to learn advanced techniques, but to build their basics.
Yet, should he simply ignore their anticipation? An old memory suddenly surfaced—specifically, a memory from when he had first come to the capital in the past.
"You want to learn the sword? That’ll be ten gold coins."
The swordsmanship instructor had been a bastard who did nothing but sneer. He was a man who boasted that he had been just one step below platinum rank in the mercenary world, and that if he had remained a mercenary, he would have become a legend. Though his skills didn’t quite match his bluster, he was indeed formidable.
"Hey, I’ll teach you a technique, so bring that waitress from earlier to Van’s place tonight."
He was also a living testament to the fact that skill and character do not always go hand in hand. Encrid had refused, and he was beaten half to death that day. Actually, the bastard had intended to kill him, but he somehow survived. Luck had been on his side; a few passing guards had spotted them and intervened. It was a stroke of pure fortune that the guards happened to walk down that particular alleyway at that exact moment.
Seeing his past self reflected in these trainees, Encrid found it impossible to turn away. Turning his back on those who possessed a genuine desire to learn was something Encrid simply could not do. Just as Andrew’s eyes shone with passion, the five Gardner trainees seemed to burn with a similar fervor.
"Sure, why not."
"What, we’re staying? Then make them cook us something delicious. They’re nobles, aren’t they?" Dunchabel reacted the moment she heard.
The others didn’t seem to care much whether they stayed or left. And so, it was decided they would stay for a few more days.
Encrid respected their desire, which meant he started immediately. He would reward their passion and enthusiasm, just as he had resolved to do.
"One thousand downward slashes."
"...Pardon?" A girl with a ponytail and a face full of freckles, standing at the front of the trainees, asked back.
"One thousand one hundred."
Andrew had experience with Encrid. These people weren't called madmen for nothing. He quickly adapted. "...Do as he says. Begin."
At Andrew’s command, the trainees raised their swords one by one. As they reflexively began to swing with clumsy form, Encrid spoke again. It was something halfway between a lecture and instruction, seasoned with a dash of torment. At least, that was how those receiving it felt.
"Put your resolve to cut down your opponent into every swing. Swing with everything you’ve got. Is that your best? Your posture is breaking. Are you putting strength into your thighs?"
Thwack.
As he spoke, he slapped a thigh with the flat of his gladius. A sharp cry of pain escaped the struck trainee’s mouth.
"Screaming over just this?"
Encrid knew the sorrow of the days when he had desperately wanted to learn but couldn’t. He had decided to stay here and do something for them. This was the first step: tempering their basics. The harsher it was, the easier their next steps would be. He knew this from experience.
A lack of resolve? That could easily be filled—with hands, feet, and Rem.
"Rem?"
"I'll help."
Dunchabel, quietly reading the room, grabbed one of the trainees. "Hey, you got time to roll your eyes? Want me to gouge them out?"
She did exactly as Rem had taught her. When she extended her long nails and made a clawing motion right in front of his eyes, the trainee’s face turned pale.
"Uh, Captain?" Andrew couldn’t understand why they were suddenly doing this. He found it even harder to believe this was out of goodwill. But he couldn’t exactly tell them to leave now. He stared at the trainees’ faces for a moment before giving up.
In any case, if they could endure this torment, they would improve. They would grow. After all, he himself had been a completely different person before and after getting beaten to a pulp by that barbarian, Rem.
And so, Encrid temporarily settled in at Andrew’s residence.
*
Waking up in the morning, practicing the Isolation Technique, followed by physical training and sparring. Encrid immediately fell into his daily routine.
"Ragna, step up. I choose you."
"Very well."
A spacious training ground had been built behind the mansion, which seemed to be the reason there was no garden. It was excellent. Encrid was satisfied. The mansion’s cook served meals regularly, and the food tasted decent.
Esther had lost her heart to a wool cushion. She transformed into a panther and refused to budge from it. Odd-Eye also seemed to quite like the place. He acted like the boss among the few horses, and during the night, he seemed to roam among the mares. A true stallion indeed.
Encrid spent his days doing nothing but eating, drinking, resting, and training. Meanwhile, a few of the trainees dreamed of running away, but...
"An opportunity like this doesn’t come easily," Andrew managed to coax them. It was highly convincing, considering his own face was pale as a sheet from continuous training. Naturally so, as Encrid had been pushing Andrew’s body to its limits since dawn.
The words spoken while his arms trembled violently carried a sense of credibility. And sincerity. The training Andrew was undergoing was by no means easy. It had all started with a single comment from Encrid.
"Your body seems a bit weak. You’ve put on some flab."
It was an absurd claim, but Andrew had no retort. When they bathed together, he saw that Encrid’s body was a weapon in itself. Especially that third leg of his—it was a literal weapon.
"What is this? It’s so unfair," Andrew had muttered involuntarily.
"What is?"
"Nothing."
After that, the hours of training continued unabated. When two days had passed like this, Rem asked, "But is it really right to do nothing but train after coming all the way to the capital?"
Honestly, Rem knew. Encrid was exactly the kind of bastard who would do just that. So why bring this up?
"Why?"
"Aren't you going to sightsee?"
"I was actually planning to head out this afternoon to find some armor," Ragna added.
Isn’t training and sparring fun enough on its own?
Encrid thought so, but he respected everyone’s opinions.
"Ragna, make sure you take an attendant with you. Don’t let them get more than five steps away."
"That’s cumbersome."
"I’m saying this because if you go out now, I don’t know when I’ll ever see you again."
"The capital may be complex, but I’ve already memorized the streets with my own eyes." Ragna shook his head, attempting to decline, but...
"As if."
"Are you insane?"
"Did you hit your head?"
Sachsen, Rem, and Dunchabel chimed in, one after another.
"If I tell you to take one, take one." Encrid was firm. Ragna had no choice but to acquiesce.
"I’m going to go have some fun too. What’s the point of coming all this way just to do this?" Rem said.
"Go ahead."
Encrid planned to stay for about three or four more days before leaving. Sachsen had gone out on business since the very first day. Dunchabel watched for a moment before making her move.
"I’m going to go look for a sword too."
The blade of her scimitar was heavily damaged. It was past the point where a whetstone could fix it. Since they were in the capital, there would be good iron and quality weapons. Even if she couldn’t have one custom-made, she should be able to find a weapon that fit her hand.
Encrid figured it would be hard to find a weapon better than the sword he currently held. Besides, today wasn’t his only chance. More than that, it felt right to dedicate his time to these people, who were filled with the same passion and desire he once had.
"Since you all live here, you don’t need to go out."
Encrid handed down what was essentially a death sentence to those who remained.
"Aren’t you going to sightsee in the capital?" one of them plucked up the courage to ask.
"No."
Encrid remained unyielding.
Devotion.
Moving forward. Just because he was teaching them didn’t mean Encrid neglected his own training. In fact, it was quite the opposite. As the saying went, one learns while teaching.
The basics.
He had not forgotten the importance of the basics. Even when he had come to the capital in the past, he had heard it until his ears bled.
"The basics! If you can’t even do the basics, what do you expect to accomplish?"
Only when the foundation is solid can one move forward. That was how Encrid operated. By teaching the five trainees, he reflected on his own skills. It was an unexpected stroke of luck. Through teaching and reflecting, he found a better direction than he ever could have by merely pondering on his own.
Moreover, he had recently acquired Audin-style Gather and Burst, Ragna’s fast and heavy sword, Rem’s mastery of any weapon, Dunchabel’s full-body elasticity swordsmanship, and Teresa’s shield techniques. He had learned so much, yet he hadn’t had the time to digest it all.
But did he really need to digest everything? One thought led to another. Just as he was about to lose himself in these rising contemplations—
Ping.
The sound of tearing air triggered his Sense of Evasion. He didn’t even need to turn his head.
An arrow. Discerning its trajectory by sound alone, he twisted his body halfway.
Thwack.
The flying arrow was caught in Encrid’s hand. It had come from atop the wall. There stood a crazy bastard, boldly standing in broad daylight.
"Who the hell are you?" Encrid asked.