Chapter 370: Color Contrast
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 370: Color Contrast
Slosh.
The water rippled.
A single source of light pierced the pitch-black void, illuminating the gloom. Following that trail of light, a figure holding a lamp atop a ferryboat came into view.
Encrid was riding a long ferry, traversing the dark river.
Was it just his imagination, or had the boat grown larger and longer than before?
It was his first dream in a long time.
The Ferryman stood opposite him, gripping the oar.
"It’s been a while," Encrid said.
Along with eyes, a nose, and a mouth, the Ferryman’s skin was now visible. It looked like parched earth in the midst of a drought—cracked, dark-gray skin that held not a shred of humanity.
It was still difficult to read his expression, but compared to their first encounter, there was much more to see. At least his features were distinct now.
And now, he could even speak.
The Ferryman’s mouth opened. A straight line parted briefly and closed. It was the kind of movement that made lip-reading impossible.
"This wall will be interesting," he said.
His heavy, low tone hit like a blunt hammer.
The moment words are spoken, they reach the listener. No weapon is faster than that. Without a moment to defend himself, Encrid felt as if his heart had been struck by the hammer of the Ferryman’s voice.
The shock radiated through his entire body. He trembled. He felt the vibration deep in his marrow. It stimulated a primal, human fear. That was the Ferryman’s power.
And Encrid...
"I look forward to it."
He enjoyed every bit of it.
In this place, he had no Beast’s Heart, no Single-Point Focus, no Sensory Technique, and no trained body. Only his raw, true self remained.
Encrid answered with his innate will, conviction, and resolve.
In truth, he was enjoying this. He genuinely, truly relished even this situation. The words came straight from his heart. The trembling of his heart and the shock transmitted to his body—all of it would serve as a stepping stone for what lay ahead.
It was anticipation overcoming fear.
Could there be a "today" that did not become a stepping stone? Perhaps, but it was also impossible. It was a contradiction. Conflicting statements.
Yet, for Encrid, nothing fit him better.
‘Even a wildflower blooming in a field has something to teach.’
There was something to learn from the stars in the night sky. There was something to learn even from dandelion seeds scattering in the wind.
Ponder. Contemplate. Agonize.
Think and think again. Never forget that all of it can become your sword.
His teachers, instructors, and fellow mercenaries—Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, Audin, as well as Esther, Dunchabel, Teresa, Krang, Andrew, and most recently, Aisia. And countless others, including those who had died by his sword. The enemy soldiers from when he repeated his very first "today." The swordsmen of the Hurier family. Mages, magic, sorcery, tactical traps.
Everything was a lesson.
"Is it madness, or resolve?" the Ferryman asked.
Gradually, his figure began to fade. This was a dream, an inner world. Soon, he would wake up.
"Or is it the desperate struggle of an ignorant fool?"
The Ferryman looked at Encrid. The color of his eyes shifted constantly—turning blue, then red, then pitch-black. They took on a purple hue before changing to the color of dark tree bark.
Only then did Encrid realize he was looking directly into the Ferryman’s eyes for the first time.
"Now you can even meet my gaze," the Ferryman’s voice echoed. Encrid could faintly sense a hint of admiration in it.
With that, Encrid opened his eyes.
‘It’s been a while.’
It had been a long time since he last dreamed of the Ferryman. Seeing him felt like ages ago.
It was because he hadn't repeated "today" recently. Had he let his guard down because of that? Had he started thinking he wouldn't face a repeating day again?
No, he hadn't. Not when he hunted the Moonlight Beast, nor when he fought Aisia.
As his thoughts drifted to Aisia, he recalled their sparring match. He felt a deep sense of lingering regret. It would have been fun to fight a bit longer. There was still so much left to learn from her, but she had left.
In Aisia, he had seen a sense of discipline that was hard to find in Rem, Ragna, or Sachsen.
‘Is it because she built her foundation in a knights' order?’
She was fluid, yet upright. Though it was called an Illusion Sword, it was entirely different from the Valen-style Mercenary Sword.
‘An Illusion Sword is meant to deceive and confuse the opponent.’
Yet her style stripped away the deception and instead exploited the opponent’s concentration. It was a technique that might actually fail against average warriors or swordsmen. Perhaps someone below the level of an Associate Knight—no, even a Squire—would simply ignore Aisia’s Sword Tip Aiming and swing their own sword blindly.
Ignorance, not knowing the danger, could sometimes look like boldness. Of course, against opponents of that caliber, Sword Tip Aiming wouldn't even be necessary.
It had been a short time, but as expected, there was much to learn. His mindset was just like in his dream. There is something to learn even from scattering dandelion seeds.
‘Everything that happens around me is my teacher.’
If there was a lesson to be had, he would ponder and ponder until he mastered it. Though Encrid wasn't consciously aware of it, his desire for self-improvement was always boiling within him.
It was the drive to become better. The urge to go further. The motivation to develop his skills, level, and techniques. It naturally gave him a proactive attitude, and he didn't stop there; he also reflected on himself.
He knew now that this was the faster path. There are times when rest is important, and stepping back to observe is necessary. He understood that now. These were things he hadn't known when he was first learning from his instructors. Only now was he beginning to see, realize, and reflect on them one by one.
Encrid knew that the time he had spent was not in vain.
With these thoughts, he got up and began his daily routine.
After going outside, he bounced on the spot to warm up. Only then did he perform his unique Isolation Technique, stretching his muscles and loosening every single joint.
Afterward, he stood in front of the garden stones he had Andrew pile up, gripped them with both hands, and pulled them up as he stood. It was a process that trained his hamstrings, his core, and his quadriceps.
Before he knew it, he had forgotten the dream of the Ferryman. In that moment, only pure passion filled him.
"Don't you ever get tired of this?" Andrew, who came out late, shook his head in disbelief.
"Tired of what?" Encrid asked, catching his breath during a brief rest.
"What you're doing right now. No, actually, everything."
Training every part of his body in the morning, then training again by getting hit by Dunchabel’s stones or Rem’s fists. After that, swordsmanship and practicing with various weapons. Sparring again, and then training in this and that. And in his spare time, teaching Andrew and the trainees.
He casually went through a daily schedule that was excessively grueling for any normal person. Andrew wondered if a human could really sustain this.
What’s more, he had recently beaten down a creature called the Moonlight Beast—whether it was human or monster—and talked about it as if he had just gone for a casual night stroll.
To Andrew, it was highly questionable whether Encrid was even human. His life was even more brutal than before. Even when Andrew had been under his command, he thought the training was harsh. But compared to then, even though Encrid possessed far superior skills now, his training volume hadn't decreased—it had increased. It was more violent, more extreme.
"Actually," Encrid began.
"Actually?" Andrew prompted.
"It's so much fun, I could die."
Andrew’s lips parted, closed, and then parted again. He found it hard to find words. However, he felt like his chest would burst with frustration if he didn't say something to express his sheer astonishment.
He turned his head slightly and muttered under his breath.
"……Crazy bastard."
He had whispered it as quietly as possible, but of course, Encrid heard it.
Sachsen, who had appeared out of nowhere, offered some advice from behind.
"He can hear everything."
"What?" Startled because he hadn't sensed Sachsen’s presence, Andrew spun around.
"The Boss has sharp ears," Sachsen kindly repeated.
Andrew cast a suspicious glance toward Encrid.
"I didn't hear you call me a crazy bastard," Encrid said.
"Ah," Andrew groaned.
"Let's begin training."
That day, the Isolation Technique was specially tailored for Andrew. The human body adapts; therefore, training at the same intensity every day would only make one weaker. It had to be harder, more rigorous. Encrid bestowed that very gift upon Andrew.
"Why us..."
Since the five trainees also had to undergo the increased intensity, resentment began to flicker in their eyes.
"They've got plenty of energy left, these kids," Rem laughed, spotting them. Where did they get off giving those kinds of looks? Resentment? Reeeeseeentmeeeent?
"Good. Good," Rem cackled. Seeing that, the faces of the five trainees turned pale.
Ragna didn't show up to the training ground until late morning. Compared to before, he seemed like a completely different person.
It seemed like it would be just another ordinary day. Except for the fact that Krang’s title conferral ceremony was tomorrow.
But something was different. Encrid felt a change in the air against his skin.
"Sure is quiet around here," Rem noted. His wild instincts had picked up a similar scent. Dunchabel felt it too.
"Let's gear up," Encrid said.
Rem nodded without a word. Everyone began to move. Encrid started gathering his equipment.
‘Six Whistle Daggers.’
They would be useful if timed right.
Three swords, the Bandage Armor wrapped around his body, and a leather breastplate over it. It was armor with a tough cloth lining. Although it held his body stiffly and restricted his movements, it wasn't a major hindrance. It was a gift from Andrew.
"Get your gear," Encrid ordered right after morning training ended. Andrew and the five trainees gathered immediately.
"What's going on?" Mac asked. Had he also sensed the ominous air? Or was he just anxious seeing the others prepare?
"The atmosphere is bad," Dunchabel answered. Ragna grabbed his sword and tucked an extra shortsword into his waist. Then, he pulled his boot laces tight.
Encrid checked all his equipment, starting with his sword belt, while scanning the mansion's surroundings.
"No one's out there, right?" Rem hadn't called it quiet for nothing. Sachsen nodded.
Sachsen wore a forearm-length sword at his waist instead of a longsword. The moment he had sensed the tension, he had surveyed the area. There was no one around the mansion. Not even a single dog could be seen on the road, which usually had a decent amount of foot traffic.
Beyond the cleanly swept blue stone path, he could see a few people hiding inside their houses.
Had someone cleared the area? No, the residents were simply avoiding the mansion. It meant forces had already surrounded the perimeter. Soldiers in guard uniforms, holding spears and swords, particularly caught his eye. There were easily over twenty of them.
Encrid ignored them. They wouldn't try anything with just those numbers.
Then what were they planning? His current backing was Krang and Marcus. Were they really stepping forward while ignoring that?
‘What are they up to?’
He was actually looking forward to it.
As they waited, Esther suddenly raised her head. Her eyes met Encrid’s. She had been lying quietly, only to snap her head up at something that provoked her.
‘A spell?’
To be precise, it was mana interference. Someone was playing magical tricks. Nothing was happening immediately, but if left alone, it was a preparation that would allow them to do whatever they wanted. There was a saying that in a battle of mages, the one who prepares wins.
‘Do they know me?’
From a magical perspective, they probably did. Though she rarely revealed herself, hadn't she killed Galaf, who held the river in his grasp? Perhaps one of his disciples had recognized her trace.
‘I wonder who it is.’
It was competitive spirit rather than curiosity. There was a reason she was called the combat witch. Esther never backed down from a fight brought to her. Had rumors spread that she had weakened due to a curse? If the opponent came knowing only that, they would surely regret it.
Esther took a step forward from her panther form and transformed into a human. Her fur vanished to reveal fair, smooth skin, and the disappearing fur reshaped itself into a long coat. She fastened the front of her coat and looked around.
"Stare and I'll gouge your eyes out."
Just then, Encrid was seen grabbing Andrew’s chin and turning his face away.
"Good job," Esther praised briefly and walked forward. "I'll be back shortly."
Encrid didn't ask where. She would handle it on her own. If there was something magical, she was moving to stop it. It wasn't that he was worried, but he wanted to offer a word of encouragement.
"Don't get yourself beaten up."
"Who do you think you're worrying about?"
Haughty and arrogant, Esther pulled her long black hair back, tied it tight, and leaped over the wall.
Before anyone knew it, she was wearing long leather pants and a white shirt under her coat. As she broke free from the curse’s influence, making clothes imbued with protective spells was no difficult task. She hadn't just been lounging around on cushions; Esther had prepared in her own way.
Not all mages were prophets, but anyone who handled spells properly possessed a sense for foreseeing danger. Esther was no exception. She hadn't foreseen this exact moment, but she had prepared. All she had to do now was show them the results.
Right after Esther left, Encrid turned his head, twitched his ears, and spoke.
"Andrew, keep people inside the mansion and defend it."
"What?"
"There seem to be quite a few of them."
Andrew didn't ask questions and did as he was told. "Everyone, get inside!"
The remaining maids and attendants, along with Mac and the five trainees, went inside first. Andrew remained in the training ground.
When Encrid glanced at him, Andrew replied, "Shouldn't I at least lend a hand?"
Encrid had said there were many. It was actually because fighting while protecting others was a hassle, but Andrew wouldn't be easily defeated. The five trainees and Mac would manage to hold out somehow. Besides, Encrid had no intention of letting anyone step foot inside the mansion in the first place.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Soon, a shuddering rumble shook the earth. He could feel the ground vibrating as it drew closer. A cloud of dust rose, and a cavalry unit riding over the blue stones came into view.
At the entrance of the mansion, a unit blocked the path completely. The man in the lead, wearing ornate armor, spoke.
"I am Polman Vertes. Is there a man named Encrid here?"
"...The Sheriff?" Andrew muttered.
"That would be me," Encrid said, raising his hand. It was a hand clad in an impressive gauntlet reinforced with sturdy leather and iron plates.
In other words, he was fully armed. The Sheriff saw this as well.
The number of those surrounding the front of the mansion was twenty. The newly arrived cavalry numbered over thirty, followed by infantry, bringing the total count to over a hundred. It seemed the entire guard force had gathered.
Among them was the South Gate Guard Captain, whom they had seen when hunting the Moonlight Beast. His face was completely pale.
"I am taking you into custody on charges of murdering Viscount Vantra," the Sheriff declared from atop his horse.
‘Oh, what bullshit,’ Encrid’s expression said.
"Bullshit," Rem said with his mouth.
At that incredibly concise reply, the Sheriff’s face flushed a deep red.
It was a stark contrast to the pale face of the South Gate Guard Captain.