Chapter 365: Only a Point is Visible
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 365: Only a Point is Visible
Encrid had several reasons for coming to the capital, and this was one of them.
"I'll get to fight the Masked Knights, right?"
The constant threat of monsters and demonic beasts hadn't just spurred the development of culinary and construction techniques; it had also drawn those with outstanding martial prowess within the safety of the castle walls. It was a necessity for both survival and defense.
Since the greatest among those gathered were the knights, the capital's order of knights stood as the ultimate symbol of martial power. When standards were divided into city-class, country-class, or continent-class, where did it all begin? Where did the term 'Associate Knight-class' originate?
It was all based on the existence of the knights.
And she was one of them.
The Marquis had investigated Encrid thoroughly. He had a rough idea of his target's tastes. To a man like Encrid, what was more valuable than krona, women, status, or power? If you dig into someone's past, trace the path they have walked, and understand the purpose behind their movements, you can truly know that person.
The Marquis had done exactly that.
"He said I'm supposed to be a 'gift.' What on earth does that mean?" Aisia asked as she stepped into the mansion.
Encrid could almost see the Marquis's smirking face behind her words. Standing on one side of the training ground, Aisia was lightly armed, a sword strapped to her waist.
That sly old fox.
What was it Andrew had said? That the Marquis was a man who had swallowed dozens of sly snakes, giving him the entrails of a hydra? The description fit him perfectly.
He was an inscrutable man. Was he on the Queen's side, Krang's side, Count Molsen's side, or that bastard Viscount Mernes's side? Or was he trying to build a new faction of his own? No one knew. He simply remained in the capital as the Marquis of Okto—a high noble whom even the Queen could not treat lightly, given his immense underlying power.
Since there was currently no Grand Duke or anyone holding the title of Duke in the kingdom, he was one of the two men who divided the nation's power, alongside Marquis Vaisar. Would such a man side with Krang? The emergence of a Grand Duke, a title that hadn't existed until now, would inevitably diminish his own influence. For that reason, Encrid had heard that Marquis Vaisar also did not welcome Krang.
Marcus had said so himself.
Yet, even though Encrid was clearly on Krang's side, the Marquis had personally come to speak with him and even asked him to handle a matter. He was a man whose thoughts and future actions were completely unpredictable.
Well, putting all of that aside for now...
"It's nothing you need to worry about," Encrid replied.
Encrid was genuinely glad to see her. One of the opponents he had wanted to meet, coax, and test his skills against was standing right in front of him.
"Drop the formalities," Aisia said, nodding.
She was just as she had been before—a gentle face and short-cropped hair. Brushing back her orange hair with her hand, Aisia stared intently at Encrid. It was both surprising and absurd to her. To her, this situation made absolutely no sense. Just seeing him standing before her was a marvel in itself.
Back at the Border Guard, she had conducted a skill test at Marcus's request. The memory of this fellow, Encrid, nearly fainting under the weight of her intimidation was still vivid.
Though Luagarne did say he was a bit different.
But Aisia trusted her own instincts more. In a way, it was only natural to trust one's own experience over the words of others. It was especially true for someone striving to become a knight, who had to pour absolute conviction into the path they walked.
In her eyes, Encrid's talent was such that he would be lucky to even reach the level of a squire. No, even that was being generous. At the time she first saw him, she had judged that he would never progress beyond that.
Yet, that very man was here. He was making a name for himself and meeting her gaze with unwavering confidence.
How did you do it?
What on earth did you do to achieve such feats?
Something akin to a competitive spirit welled up inside her. She wanted to gauge his strength. She had come here for business, but she knew the moment she laid eyes on him that things would change. She hadn't joined the order and become an Associate Knight for nothing.
Unless one was obsessed with martial arts and combat—with swinging a sword or whatever weapon suited them—becoming an Associate Knight was an impossible task. Only when talent was coupled with an insatiable desire could one reach that rank.
Meeting Aisia's gaze, Encrid set aside his tasks and faced her directly.
"Do that again."
Since she told him to drop the formalities, he did so without hesitation. It was a straightforward attitude, and Aisia liked that.
"What?" she asked.
"Your intimidation."
"You'll foam at the mouth."
"Do it."
This time, there was no one standing behind him. Back then, when she had unleashed her intimidation, hadn't his subordinates gathered around to glare at her? Andrew Gardner wasn't even worth noting. The ones who concerned her were the subordinates she had seen under this man before, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Aisia summoned her intimidation. She shifted her feet, turning her stance sideways, and mimed placing her hand on her sword's grip. Intimidation was a technique that used willpower to break an opponent's resolve.
Kneel. Or die.
Encrid felt the intimidation, laced with cold killing intent. An imaginary blade flew toward him. Encrid knew it wasn't real. The Encrid of the past, who would close his eyes at the sight of a sword, was gone—and so was the Encrid who could be crushed by mere pressure.
His Will of Rejection surged, pushing the intimidation back. Encrid took a step closer to Aisia.
Her pupils dilated. She had heard the rumors, but only after seeing it with her own eyes did she truly believe it.
This guy is the real deal.
Luagarne was right. Her own judgment, born of experience, had been wrong. He hadn't forced his body to endure the strain like before; he had countered it with pure Will.
"Sparring?" Encrid asked.
"Fine by me!" Aisia shouted heartily.
Ching!
The thin, straight rapier at her waist was drawn in a flash. Holding the sword vertically in front of her face, Aisia spoke.
"You don't think my only specialty is intimidation, do you?"
"If losing isn't your hobby, you'd better take this seriously," Encrid countered. It was a subtle provocation.
Aisia smiled brightly. Her expression seemed to say, I need to teach this bastard a lesson.
Encrid was highly satisfied with that change in her expression. While she held her drawn sword upright, Encrid adjusted his sword belt, positioning the grip for an easier draw. At the same time, he shifted his left foot and let his arms hang naturally. It was the 'preparation' right before a fight.
A spar the moment she arrived. Business or whatever else didn't matter at all.
Aisia went all out from the start. There was no need for half-hearted testing. Both were Associate Knights. They possessed that level of martial power. Just seeing him overcome her intimidation made that clear.
"I don't know how many Wills you can use, but look forward to this. It's going to be fun," Aisia said, lowering her vertically held sword to point it forward.
Encrid reflexively measured the distance. The distance was five paces, but because she had drawn her sword and pointed it forward, it felt as if the tip of her blade was right in front of his nose.
Encrid stepped to the side, changing his position to put the sun at his back. Aisia didn't take a step; she simply pivoted on her left foot, shifting her direction and moving only the tip of her sword.
The tip of her blade still loomed right before Encrid's eyes.
At first, Encrid looked at Aisia. Then, he focused on her shoulder, the center of her body. Single-Point Focus activated naturally.
She was a genuine Associate Knight of an order. Just because he had faced a knight's strike before didn't mean he thought he could easily overwhelm her. With boldness in his Beast's Heart, capturing his opponent in his gaze with Single-Point Focus, and heightening his Sensory Technique, he prepared.
He was fully ready to strike first at any moment, but...
As he stared at her shoulder, Encrid's field of vision began to narrow. His view of her entire body shrank to just her shoulder and hand, and then became restricted to the rapier and the hand gripping it. After that, only the blade of the rapier was visible. A moment later, his gaze tightened and narrowed down to the very tip of the rapier.
In the end, only a single point was visible. Yet, that point was so massive it seemed to completely block his path. Logically, he understood. His opponent had merely raised her sword and pointed it forward.
And yet...
I can't gauge the distance.
It was clearly five paces, but the distance had vanished. The tip of the sword appeared only as a point. Only that point remained.
There was no intimidation. No pressure. Naturally, the Will of Rejection did not activate. The tip of the sword was simply there. Encrid couldn't even attempt to find an opening. What could he do when he was looking at nothing but a single point?
The more he concentrated, the larger the point she presented became.
'What are they doing?'
To Andrew, who was watching from the side, it was utterly baffling. He had asked her to do something, she took a step forward, and suddenly they suggested a spar. And then, after drawing and pointing their swords, they just stopped.
He thought Encrid was taking a few steps to position himself and measure the distance, but now both of them were completely still.
'Are they not going to fight?'
He had been looking forward to watching a high-level spar, but quite some time had already passed.
'Should I say something?'
"Leave them be."
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Rem, who had approached silently, placed an arm over his shoulder and spoke. With his shoulder and neck held, Andrew's body froze instantly.
"If you make a wrong move now, that blade will fly right at you," Rem said, pulling him back. Andrew quietly complied.
Rem wasn't the only one who had come out. Ragna, Sachsen, and Dunchabel had also appeared. Their gazes gathered on the center of the training ground.
Sweat began to bead on Encrid's forehead. Aisia wasn't entirely at ease either. Her opponent's momentum was fierce and wild. He was like a volcano ready to erupt the moment she showed even the slightest opening. If that erupted, it would be difficult to maintain her current advantage.
Lionesis had divided swordsmanship into five styles—Orthodox, Heavy, Illusion, Swift, and Soft—and established their strengths and weaknesses in a circular, counter-based relationship.
The Orthodox Sword was weak against the Illusion Sword. Because it swung straight and true to trap the opponent within one's intentions, the Orthodox Sword was vulnerable to the deceptive Illusion Sword.
The Illusion Sword was weak against the Heavy Sword. Since the Illusion Sword relied on deceiving and tricking the opponent, it struggled against sheer, honest simplicity. A heavy, straightforward strike was the specialty of the Heavy Sword.
The Heavy Sword was countered by the Soft Sword. Because of its sheer momentum, it was easily deflected by riding its flow.
In turn, the Soft Sword struggled against the Swift Sword. A speed that struck before one could even deflect left no room to employ deflecting techniques.
Finally, the Swift Sword was vulnerable to the Orthodox Sword. If trapped within expectations, the power of speed was halved, making it natural to be caught by the Orthodox Sword.
The straight sword to the deceptive sword.
The deceptive sword to the heavy sword.
The heavy sword to the flowing sword.
The flowing sword to the swift sword.
And the swift sword back to the straight sword.
Of course, being a Swift Sword user didn't guarantee victory over an Orthodox Sword, nor was an Orthodox Sword guaranteed to lose to an Illusion Sword. Everything depended on the depth of one's training; the outcome of a battle was never simple. One could die even while fighting an opponent far inferior in skill.
It was an old adage: The sword has no eyes. Anyone hit by a blind blade dies. Death is fair to everyone.
To escape that fairness, humans sought to transcend their limits. That was Will. Willpower. And the culmination of that willpower was the knight.
Aisia's sword was the Illusion Sword. It was a technique that turned the opponent's concentration against them to land a counter.
Rem, Sachsen, and Ragna immediately thought of their own ways to counter Aisia's technique the moment they saw it. Since they were geniuses, it was only natural. Of course, in an actual fight, Aisia would introduce variations, so the outcome would only be known by clashing directly.
Dunchabel couldn't grasp her opponent's technique all at once, but she knew what she could do.
Strike before she can unleash her strike.
Encrid didn't grasp Aisia's technique at a glance. However, he had a tower he had built layer by layer, a path he had walked step by step. It had entirely become his own swordsmanship. What did it matter if he saw a point or a line? If he couldn't break through, he would shatter it right here.
The moment he judged that time was not on his side, Encrid moved his hand.
Shhhk!
The sound of his sword being drawn was peculiar. It was because he drew it so quickly and straight—a draw with minimized friction. It was the result of his continuous training.
It was the Moment's Will. What he drew was Spark.
Spark became a white beam of light and lashed out at the point.
Clang!
The sound of metal clashing rang out. The moment something touched the tip of her sword, Aisia exploded the contracted muscles of her entire body.
Whoosh!
Aisia's sword flew forward twice as fast as it had been deflected, slashing toward Encrid's neck. It seemed as though blood would spray out instantly, but that did not happen. Encrid barely dodged it, jerking his neck back.
Aisia stopped there. Any further, and it would have been a fight to the death.
For a first spar, this was incredibly fierce—to the point where one might wonder if it could even be called a spar. Even within the order, people would get angry if they clashed like this with real swords, asking if they were trying to kill each other.
And yet...
"One more time?"
Encrid's eyes sparkled. A faint smile spread across his face. He looked absolutely thrilled. Hadn't he just brushed with death a moment ago? Yet he wore such an expression?
No matter how bold one was, a near-death experience would inevitably breed at least some negative emotion. But in Encrid, not even a speck of resentment, complaint, or dissatisfaction could be found.
"Huh?"
It was a first-time experience for Aisia. He was a type of human she had never seen before.
"If you're tired, we can rest a bit before we go again."
At Encrid's words, reactions came from behind.
"He's starting again."
"His sickness is acting up."
"Mmh."
It was Rem, Ragna, and Sachsen, in that order.
Dunchabel remained silent. She lacked the confidence to block the strike Aisia had just shown. It wasn't the speed that was terrifying. If it were simple speed, Encrid's sword was far fiercer. She wasn't surprised by the speed; rather, it was the way Aisia stole the timing that was terrifying.
It cuts off your breath.
She knew because she had watched, completely absorbed without realizing it. Aisia's sword slipped into the gaps between breaths, where it was impossible to dodge. If it had been her, her neck would have been slashed.
Of course, if the opponent had pointed their sword like that from the start, she wouldn't have fought like Encrid did anyway. She would have widened the distance and started over.
But could she win then?
That would be difficult. Dunchabel snorted in annoyance at the thought.
"I think you're a bit of a strange person," Aisia finally said to Encrid.
"You're smiling right now too," Encrid replied.
It was exactly as he said. Aisia, too, felt a rare sense of fun and exhilaration. It was so thrilling she couldn't remember how many years it had been since she last felt this way.
"Is there no breakfast? I came here without eating anything," Aisia said.
"Andrew?"
Encrid called out to the owner of the mansion. Andrew nodded. Since they were people who never missed a single meal, the food was bound to be well-prepared.