Chapter 376: There Is No Next Time
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 376: There Is No Next Time
'Crazy bastard.'
Watching Encrid smile, Aisia almost lost her composure, but she quickly pulled herself together.
If she didn't intend to kill him, she had to stop him here.
The knowledge that her sibling was being held hostage, and the presence of the unexpected figure behind her... a tangle of complex thoughts piled up in layers, only to vanish.
With a man smiling like that right in front of her, she was utterly speechless.
"You must have a reason to break through. And I have a reason to stop you."
The words slipped out of her of their own accord. Why was she saying this to Encrid? She didn't know. The heavy atmosphere simply compelled her to speak.
She hardened her expression further. Hiding her emotions, she let her sword do the talking.
Her repertoire wasn't limited to Sword Tip Aiming.
She would never lose in pure technique. There was a vast gulf between her and Encrid, one that could not be bridged in a short time. She admitted he possessed superior strength, but the gap in technique would not be so easily closed.
Strength and the battle of wits—Encrid excelled at both. But no matter how brilliant one was at reading the flow, if they were repeatedly outmatched in fine technique, there was no hope of winning.
Encrid closed his eyes again.
"You'll die at this rate," she warned.
She had no intention of killing him, but she couldn't afford to let her guard down either.
"Try it if you can."
Encrid refused to back down. For a moment, Aisia found his stubbornness deeply frustrating.
"If you wait for next time instead of now, you won't have to fight at such great risk."
Even as she spoke, Aisia already knew the answer. It was all too obvious how Encrid would respond. Though they had only known each other for a few days, she knew exactly what kind of man he was.
"Pushing it to tomorrow because today doesn't work, and to next time because tomorrow doesn't work..." Encrid spoke, his eyes closed as he kept his sword aimed. "If I ever thought about a 'next time,' I wouldn't even be standing before you right now."
Aisia grit her teeth.
The two clashed repeatedly. In the end, Aisia managed to pierce two holes into Encrid's forearm. She also left a wound in his thigh deep enough for a finger joint to sink into.
In the melee, Encrid lost his grip on Silver, but managed to gift Aisia a long cut across her cheek with Spark.
"It would have been much easier if I were trying to kill you," Aisia said, catching her breath.
Before they knew it, the sun had begun to tilt toward the horizon. The blade of rebellion, drawn in the light of day, had surely reached every corner of the palace by now.
Sure enough.
"That is enough."
From behind Aisia, deep within the shadows untouched by light, a voice echoed.
"Put that away," the voice commanded.
Still on the ground, Encrid shifted his gaze past Aisia. There was no light, making it impossible to see the speaker clearly. Only a silhouette was visible—a dense, pitch-black outline. Despite standing in the dark, the man's presence felt incredibly heavy and distinct.
Who was this now?
Judging by the sheer pressure radiating from him and Aisia's sudden shift in posture, the answer was obvious. He was a cut above her.
Out of the gloom cast by the unlit candlesticks, a man stepped forward. As the silhouette gained definition and drew closer, watching him approach felt like watching an unstoppable boulder rolling toward them.
'He's not a knight.'
Instinct and experience told Encrid so. After all, hadn't he faced a knight before? It had only been a single exchange of blows, but that brief taste of a true knight's power was enough for him to recognize the difference.
He was not a knight.
He had drab, dull hair, a longsword slung at his waist, and a blood-stained dagger gripped in his hand.
Aisia turned around. Even though she clearly had enough strength left to deal Encrid another blow, she turned her back on him without hesitation. Raising her sword toward the newcomer, she spoke.
"Senior, let's stop here."
From his position, Encrid could see Aisia's back and the front of the man who exuded an overwhelming, suffocating weight.
The man with the dagger tilted his head. His curly, dark brown hair swayed with the movement.
"Aisia?"
"This is more than enough. What are you going to do when the Master returns?"
Encrid could tell there was no conviction in Aisia's voice. They were words even she didn't believe.
"If you won't do it, I will."
The man strode forward as he spoke, and Aisia unleashed her pressure once more.
A wall.
The very wall that had blocked Encrid's path had now reversed its direction.
"You should probably stop," Encrid muttered.
It was impossible to gauge the man's skill. Was it because his own eyes were still lacking? He didn't know. It felt like looking at Ragna or Rem.
"Do you think all associate knights are the same?"
Aisia's earlier words hit home with newfound weight. Had she spat those words during their sparring because of this man? It was highly likely.
The man completely ignored Aisia's pressure. His steady pace didn't falter for a second.
"Aisia."
Still on the ground, Encrid called her name once more. Aisia didn't answer. Instead, she raised her sword and aimed it at the man.
Sword Tip Aiming.
And then, Encrid witnessed the perfect counter to her technique once more. It was the fourth time he had seen it, following Rem, Ragna, and Sachsen.
The moment Aisia aimed her sword, the man took a massive stride forward and slammed his dagger against the flat of her blade. Her Sword Tip Aiming was rendered utterly useless.
In that instant, Encrid understood exactly what the man had done. It was an intuitive realization born from witnessing the solution for the fourth time.
'Just because you aim the tip doesn't mean the physical blade disappears.'
The sword remains right there. If one possesses the sheer force to strike it aside, Sword Tip Aiming can be broken. If Aisia is forced to swing or block first, the technique falls apart regardless.
To pull this off, one had to strike in a way that prevented her from deflecting, while simultaneously shutting down any window for a counterattack. The prerequisite conditions were incredibly demanding.
Yet, the man had just made it look effortless.
Encrid could see the answer, but he couldn't fully grasp the process behind it.
'Normally, she would have deflected and counterattacked...'
But her rhythm had been completely shattered. Displaying such a feat with a mere dagger meant his skill belonged to an entirely different realm.
Not all associate knights are the same.
The truth of those words resonated deep within his chest.
Using his sword as a cane, Encrid forced himself to his feet. He could probably manage one or two more swings. If he stood by and watched Aisia die, it would haunt him far worse than a few bad dreams.
From the moment he stood up, Encrid didn't care whether his strike would succeed or fail. He did it simply because he could.
"Don't be foolish," the man with the dagger said.
His gaze never once drifted toward Encrid; his eyes remained fixed solely on Aisia.
Aisia recovered her deflected sword and thrust forward, the blade splitting into three distinct paths. It was a thrust resembling a trident. He recalled her calling the technique Trident. She had mentioned she developed it after watching a fisherman in a coastal village.
The man swept his dagger up and down. He moved the dagger as casually as one might stir a ladle in a pot of stew. At least, that was how it appeared to Encrid.
Clang-clang-clang!
Three sharp metallic clashes rang out in rapid succession.
"Are you really going to do this?" the man asked again.
Instead of answering, Aisia raised her sword and shifted her stance. Her repertoire was not limited to Sword Tip Aiming. Encrid knew this all too well.
She channeled strength into her toes, shifting her center of gravity. Though she never neglected her physical conditioning, there were countless opponents who possessed far superior raw strength. If she hadn't devised ways to overcome that disparity, she would never have risen to the rank of an associate knight.
"Do you truly wish to die?"
The man's voice was completely flat, devoid of any inflection or emotion. He sounded as though he were merely stating a plain fact.
Aisia's sword lashed out several more times. Curving, plunging, and soaring upward—it was the very technique that had bypassed Encrid's guard and pierced his forearm. It was delicate, sharp, and incredibly fast—comparable to the speed of his own Moment's Will.
It was, without a doubt, her ultimate strike.
Yet, against that flurry of lethal strikes, the man casually deflected each one with light taps of his dagger. At the very end, the tip of her blade managed to graze his cheek, but it was far from a fatal wound.
A thin line of blood welled up. The man let go of his dagger, letting the short blade clatter to the ground. In the same motion, his hand gripped the hilt of the longsword at his waist.
Encrid caught sight of the pommel. It was shaped like a wolf.
He drew the sword. There was no blinding speed, nor was there any overwhelming weight behind the motion. It was simply drawn, and it moved forward.
Yet, the blade rose at a bizarre angle, completely disrupting the flow of Aisia's thrust. He struck her blade mid-trajectory. With a sharp clang, Aisia's sword was violently deflected.
'How is that even possible?'
He had no idea. None at all. It was a level of skill that couldn't be understood simply by watching.
Aisia pulled her sword back to her chest. Her rhythm was shattered. With her momentum dead, any strike she threw now would never reach him. Her footwork faltered. As her steps tangled, her breathing hitched, catching heavily in her throat.
Aisia held her breath entirely. Disregarding all form and flow, she abandoned the thrust and slashed instead.
She brought the blade down from above. The vertical slash lacked the thunderous power of a lightning bolt, but it was as swift as a beam of light—reminiscent of the erratic, unpredictable strikes Encrid occasionally executed with Spark.
As the sword swept down, the man met her blade and slid his own against it.
Screeech—
Sparks showered as the steel ground together, locking the two in a brief, tense struggle.
Encrid threw himself forward at that exact moment. He couldn't manage the same explosive charge he had used against Aisia, but he could still deliver one perfect, decisive strike.
Channeling the Will of Acceleration. Rejecting the suffocating pressure radiating from the man. Unleashing the Heart of Monstrous Strength, he maintained his Single-Point Focus.
He thrust Spark forward with his left hand. The straight, piercing trajectory of the blade was like a ray of sunlight. Sunlight touches you the very instant you perceive it. There is no dodging it.
His thrust was the physical manifestation of that concept. The execution was more flawless than ever before—his breathing, footwork, timing, muscle tension, and the grip of his hand on the hilt. Everything aligned perfectly.
It was a strike so perfect that he didn't even have time to feel joy; it was pure, absolute precision.
Yet, the man's blade still found a way to slip through the gap.
How does one escape sunlight? By stepping into the shade.
His rhythm was severed. Intercepting him mid-thrust, the man's blade lightly tapped the side of Spark before the attack could fully manifest. There was no brute force behind the tap, but the slight shift in direction completely derailed the Gather and Burst energy surging from his feet through his entire body. His breathing, stance, and momentum shattered instantly.
Encrid knew his strike had failed. And this was the consequence.
The sword in the man's right hand had already pierced straight through Aisia's heart.
"Urgh..."
Aisia coughed up bloody froth. Even as the blade impaled her heart, she tried to swing her rapier, but all strength had already drained from her body.
The man didn't even let her desperate strike land. He caught her falling blade on his pauldron, deflecting it harmlessly away. At the same time, his left hand shot forward. Before Encrid could react, a shortsword had appeared in the man's left hand, its tip already buried deep in Encrid's chest.
Thanks to his Bandage Armor absorbing some of the impact, the blade missed his heart, but it plunged deep into his flank, tearing through his internal organs.
The man's gaze briefly swept over Encrid's wounded body. He still didn't say a word to him. His expression was like someone looking at a pebble on the side of the road. It wasn't just the vast difference in their strength; it was the gaze of someone looking at an object that had absolutely nothing to do with him.
"There was no way to subdue you without killing you," he said, addressing only Aisia.
"Senior..."
Aisia's blood-flecked lips parted. Summoning the very last of her strength, she squeezed out a final breath.
"My... sibling..."
"Do not worry."
The light faded from Aisia's eyes. Yet, the searing agony tearing through Encrid's insides failed to cloud his mind. Because this endless repetition of today was a curse, there was no such blessing as growing numb to the pain. The agony was just as excruciating now as it had been during his very first regression.
Even so, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Aisia.
Setting aside her attempt to block him, why had she turned her blade against her own ally? Why had she stood in front of him to protect him?
He could tell just by the shifting atmosphere. She could have simply looked away. She could have just walked away. If she had, she wouldn't have had to risk her life.
But she hadn't. He didn't need to ask to know why.
Just as he refused to postpone today until tomorrow... there was something Aisia absolutely refused to compromise on. The one thing she could not abandon.
'Refusing to turn away from her own heart.'
Why had she stood here in the first place? To kill him? No. If she had wanted him dead, she could have killed him a dozen times over.
His squad members had all said the same thing.
"If it comes down to a fight to the death, a victor will emerge one way or another. But that doesn't change the fact that you cannot defeat her right now," Rem had told him.
"If you fight her, you will lose. You'll almost certainly lose," Ragna had said as well.
As his thoughts drifted, the man stepped in front of him. His black boots filled Encrid's vision. Encrid looked up, and only then did the man speak to him.
"She died because of you."
His tone was entirely flat, devoid of even a shred of emotion.
Then, the man's sword swept across Encrid's neck.
A blinding agony surged from his neck straight to his brain. The searing heat, the horrific sensation of tearing flesh, the sudden blackout—darkness enveloped everything.
And as he crossed that threshold, the undulating waters of the river came into view.
"Shall I show you an easier path?" the ferryman asked.