Chapter 360: Stab Me
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 360: Stab Me
The Mu-sal Thrust.
It was Sachsen’s signature technique.
No presence. No momentum. The blade, advancing in absolute silence, was faithful only to the singular purpose of its creation.
Born to stab, slash, and tear through flesh, it was being used for exactly that.
The silent blade lunged for Encrid’s back.
If he drove it straight through now, the commission would be complete.
"You want to spar?"
Sachsen found himself staring into Encrid’s eyes. The man had turned around before he even realized it. The sword executing the Mu-sal Thrust ground to a halt. Sachsen froze, his right hand still extended forward.
Did he sense it and react?
This meant the Mu-sal Thrust had been broken.
Ting.
Encrid had already drawn his silver longsword and swung. He lightly tapped the frozen blade—a mere greeting.
Sachsen pulled his deflected sword back, centering it before his body. The vibration from the impact traveled from the steel through his entire frame.
"I named it Silver. My sword," Encrid said, holding the blade upright. The steel reflected the moonlight at a sharp angle.
Watching him, Sachsen realized the truth of what had just happened.
The Mu-sal Thrust hadn't been broken; he simply hadn't been able to commit to it.
Did I not want to?
He hadn't put his heart into the strike. He hadn't completely erased his presence.
Why?
"Sachsen."
His name was called. A blue light flickered in the eyes reflecting the moonlight. Momentum surged from the sword in Encrid’s hand. Encrid’s shoulders shifted minutely, and Sachsen reacted instantly.
Predicting the incoming attack from the stance alone, he leaped back.
Whoosh!
The longsword Encrid called Silver drew a short, lethal arc through the space where Sachsen had stood a heartbeat before.
He had swung it in a tight radius, gripping the hilt with his right hand and the ricasso with his left. It was an attack born of absolute trust in the weapon’s cutting power. Rather than a wide slash utilizing centrifugal force, it was a form that maximized the raw sharpness of the edge.
"If you let your guard down, you'll lose a limb," Encrid said. Between his hands gripping the sword, his blue eyes pierced the darkness of the night, shining with intensity.
Words filled with weight. Eyes filled with intent.
Sachsen absorbed that pressure and analyzed his opponent's attack. After processing everything in an instant, Sachsen spoke.
"You intend to leverage the weapon's advantage?"
Normally, this was a moment for action rather than words, yet Sachsen spoke anyway. He recognized that he was acting out of character, but he didn't dwell on it. He simply followed his instincts.
Was this for the commission?
Was this for revenge?
Was stabbing him in the back the right thing to do?
I don't care.
Sachsen recalled Encrid’s usual way of speaking and mimicked it in his mind. This, too, wasn't a conscious decision.
Encrid exhaled slowly. His breath seemed to materialize in the moonlight, thick with focus.
"I'm serious. If you hold back, you'll get hurt, Sachsen."
Encrid was not the same man he once was. He had changed to a degree that was incomparable to when they first met.
What had happened to the man who used to swing his sword in silent obscurity? The man who was pushed around and beaten everywhere—the superior officer in name only—was gone.
His frame seemed twice its usual size.
Sachsen threw the sword in his hand to the ground. The blade sank into the dirt with a dull thud. Then, he drew another weapon—the stiletto.
"That?"
Encrid recognized it immediately. It was the prize Leona Lockfried had put up, which he had ultimately won. The item he had readily given away.
The stiletto from the Carmen Collection.
Sachsen swept an indifferent gaze over the stiletto's blade. Had Encrid given it away knowing its true value? Back then, Encrid had shown no ulterior motives whatsoever. Now, Sachsen aimed the tip of that gifted blade at the very person who had given it to him.
"Do not let your guard down. Please."
It was the first time the word "please" had ever crossed Sachsen’s lips.
The corners of Encrid’s mouth twitched. A short chuckle escaped him.
"Half a life," Encrid said. It was a declaration that he would attack with lethal intensity—a warning that this spar would be unlike any they had shared before.
Encrid’s burning eyes stared straight ahead.
Their gazes locked, and Sachsen let his hands hang loose. In that instant, a silent throwing dagger flew straight toward the space between Encrid’s brows.
Sensory Technique: Sense of Evasion activated.
Able to dodge even without seeing or hearing, it belonged to the domain of the Sixth Sense.
Encrid sensed the threat and dodged. He tilted his head, letting the sharp, silent dagger slip past. But then, he sensed another blade flying toward the very spot he had just moved to.
Staggered timing.
It was a technique from the Flicking Sword Style, the dagger-throwing method Sachsen had personally taught him. However, he hadn't expected Sachsen to lead with it right off the bat. One couldn't predict everything, after all.
He hadn't predicted it, but his body reacted. Encrid used the flat of his blade as a shield.
Clang!
Steel met steel, cutting through the moonlight as sparks flew.
While the daggers were in flight, Encrid dug the tip of his left foot into the ground. It was a stealthy move made while his opponent's gaze was drawn to the sword. He kicked his lead foot forward.
Fffsh!
Dirt sprayed upward. A stray weed flew with it, obscuring Sachsen's vision.
Sachsen reflexively lowered his gaze, gripped the stiletto in a reverse hold, and slipped to the side.
Swish!
Almost simultaneously with the spray of dirt, the silver longsword thrust forward, but Sachsen had anticipated the move and dodged.
Sachsen’s specialty was the Orthodox Sword Style. Whenever they clashed head-on, he enjoyed calculating his opponent's moves and keeping them within his designs. It was much the same now.
Of course, something else was mixed in this time.
This was why, in Encrid’s eyes, Sachsen looked like a beast hiding its claws. Conversely, looking at Encrid, Sachsen felt as if he were facing a smooth, solid cobblestone. No openings were visible. He had grown that much.
Therefore.
"This should be fun," Sachsen muttered.
Hearing this, Encrid replied, "No kidding."
*
"...Whoa, where'd you get beat up like that?"
Andrew had given them each a room, but there was only one staircase leading up to them. In front of it stood Rem, idly tossing and catching his axe.
Rem spoke with a broad grin, noticing that Sachsen’s left cheekbone was noticeably swollen.
"Did you actually fight him head-on instead of stabbing him in the back? That's unlike you. Why? Did some girl dump you? Did you lose your mind?"
Seeing him spout whatever came to mind, it was clear Rem was having a grand old time. Normally, Sachsen would have ignored him, and given the earlier mood, he wouldn't have even pretended to listen. But the atmosphere was different now. His mouth, looser than when they had first arrived, spat back.
"Dumped? Do I look like you?"
With just those few words, Rem felt a stinging defeat. Just looking at him, one had to admit Sachsen’s face was outstanding. He could easily have been the star host of a high-end salon.
"Men are all about wild charm, you bastard," Rem grumbled, thinking to himself: He's completely loosened up.
"I don't even have the energy to stop you guys today. If you're going to fight, take it outside. Don't break the furniture," Encrid said, approaching from behind Sachsen.
Perhaps because Andrew was a cheapskate, there weren't many candles in the mansion. Lamps were even harder to come by. Then again, judging by their meals and the state of the house, he didn't seem particularly wealthy. One could tell just by looking at the cheap wooden swords the trainees used.
Consequently, the mansion grew quite dark at night. Encrid looked as if he had suddenly emerged from the shadows themselves. Of course, Rem had sensed his presence long ago.
"Did you go at it with the Captain?" Rem asked, glancing down from the stairs. As Encrid reached the wall-mounted candelabra, his condition became fully visible.
While Sachsen had a swollen cheek, Encrid had a blackened eye and was limping. There was also a small puncture wound on his forearm. Blood seeped through the tightly wrapped cloth—the clear mark of a dagger thrust deep and pulled out.
Oh ho?
Even in Rem’s eyes, Encrid’s body had gone beyond merely sturdy to downright solid. His skill could no longer be ignored either. And yet his body had been left in that state?
This meant they had fought in earnest. Both Sachsen and Encrid.
"Did you stab him in the back?"
At the redundant question, Sachsen decided Rem was no longer worth dealing with. "Move, before I remove that uselessly spinning head from your shoulders."
"Try it, bastard. I won't go easy on you just because you got beat up."
"Rem, step aside," Encrid chimed in.
Rem smacked his lips, then stood up, stepping only on his heels. The old wooden stairs creaked loudly. Standing up, Rem lightly hopped down and landed softly on the floor. It was quite a trick—landing without a sound despite carrying an axe and having a massive build. He was like a cat hitting the ground.
"Just joking, just joking. I only wanted to get payback for you since we're in the same unit. I'm Rem, the man of loyalty, after all. But really, was it just a spar?"
Meanwhile, Sachsen nimbly glided up the stairs. When it came to walking silently, that guy was several cuts above. Rem sensed this too and glanced up. Sachsen had already nearly reached the top, leaving only his heels in sight.
Rem turned his head back and spoke. "Looks like you took a beating."
"It's nothing."
Encrid felt pain flaring near his left hip, but he judged it wasn't serious. Limping was to facilitate a faster recovery, not because he couldn't walk. Besides, one of the wounds on his body had been sustained on purpose. It was an injury within his expected parameters.
"So, what's the story?"
Was he asking because he didn't know it was a spar? No. He knew everything. There was a deeper meaning behind his question. Because he was aware of Sachsen’s state, he was asking why they had gone out of their way to push themselves so hard. Because Sachsen had been acting differently than usual.
Internally, Encrid let out a quiet "Ah."
Contrary to his appearance, Rem was quick-witted, fast to grasp situations, and knew exactly what he needed to do.
"I was hunted because I killed some noble's brat. I was busy running away."
What Rem had said in the past flashed through Encrid's mind. Killing a noble's son and fleeing was something he did simply because he could. If he had needed to kill him secretly and slip away, he would have done so. Yet, if he had killed him openly and made it clear it was his doing, there must have been a reason...
The image of Rem up until now flashed through his mind. Out of nowhere, Encrid finally understood why Rem hadn't immediately fled after the act.
He had drawn everyone's attention—especially the nobles'—to himself. He had to.
"You made yourself out to be the sole culprit," Encrid muttered.
Rem blinked. What on earth was this guy thinking about all by himself again? He was spouting nonsense out of nowhere.
"Get a grip. Is your illness flaring up again?" Rem said, tapping his temple with his index finger.
Encrid ignored him and continued his train of thought. What Krais had said came back to him. Krais used to observe the personalities and attitudes of the unit members whenever he was bored, and this was what he had said back then:
"While the Captain is rather lazy when it comes to using his head, Rem is a bit different."
"Different?"
"Rem tends to feign ignorance even when he knows everything. If he must draw attention to himself, he only does so when absolutely necessary."
If he had secretly killed the noble's son back then, what would have happened to the commoners who had been victimized by the brat? Rem had put himself forward so the authorities wouldn't take their anger out on those commoners. He told them to chase him instead.
He had probably left just enough of a trail while fighting them off continuously, keeping them so distracted that they could only focus on pursuing him. And the moment he felt he had bought enough time, he would have vanished into thin air and fled all the way to the frontier.
This bastard is incredibly sly.
Rem stared at Encrid for a long moment before speaking again. "Spouting weird nonsense... and what's with that look in your eyes? Huh? Your eyes look a bit strange."
Encrid shook his head, indicating it was nothing. And he continued his thoughts.
Come to think of it, it made sense. Until Encrid joined the unit and became the mediator, Rem had only caused moderate trouble. He only started acting like a true rascal after Encrid arrived.
Because he could.
Because that was how he would establish his identity. To prevent others from messing with him and to be left alone to live as he pleased. That was how he solidified his image.
A sly stray cat? Who was the sly one here?
"Look, I'm telling you, your eyes look weird right now."
"Let's stay a bit longer."
Encrid didn't bother playing along with Rem. Since Rem was quick-witted and sharp, he would easily understand what Encrid meant. Without lowering his suspicious gaze, Rem went along with Encrid’s tune.
"Because of that stray cat?"
"Well, that and other things."
Sachsen’s room upstairs was right in front of the staircase. Since they hadn't bothered to lower their voices, he must have heard their entire conversation.
"Stupid cat, always bringing trouble," Rem grumbled as usual. Even so, he didn't say anything about packing up and leaving.
Encrid stepped up the stairs. As he did, he recalled the fight from earlier. To be precise, the moment right after the spar had ended.
"Stab me."
Those were the words he had spoken to Sachsen right after the spar. Sachsen had hesitated to extend his sword.
"That's enough."
Sachsen had shaken his head. Looking at him, Encrid had spoken once more.
"Once is fine."
The man before him had taught him Sensory Techniques. It would have been perfectly fine even if he had let himself be stabbed once as payment. Encrid truly believed that.
When Sachsen first drew his sword behind his back, Encrid had felt his killing intent. He had also felt his hesitation. Anxiety, worry, and anguish lingered at the tip of the blade. He had felt all of that in a single swing.
After answering all those worries and anxieties through their spar, Encrid thought: Whoever they are, they certainly play a wide variety of tricks.
"There was a commission to stab you," Sachsen had confessed midway through.
Encrid was curious about the opponent hidden behind the veil. Warnings, commissions, tricks. The assassins and assassination attempts he had encountered on his way here must have all been orchestrated by that person.
Creak.
The wooden stairs shrieked. Reaching the room where he would stay, Encrid thought:
Ultimately, he would have to give an answer to the things that person had thrown at him. And it would be the very answer that person so desperately desired.