Chapter 379: Veeery, Muuuuch
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 379: Veeery, Muuuuch
"Andrew, yes. Try it like that."
Nineteen "todays" had passed. Encrid ordered Andrew to thrust his sword at him.
Now, he needed someone's help.
Encrid did just that. He began training to parry by meeting the tip of Andrew’s blade with his own.
"...That is a brutally simple way to train."
By the time he had heard Andrew's exclamation of awe for the thirty-sixth time, Encrid finally met the tip of his opponent's sword with his own.
They weren't standing still; they were doing this while moving at a moderate speed.
Naturally, it wasn't easy. It was grueling. Because it was so difficult, the thrill of success rushed through his entire body.
Of course, the chance to savor that ecstasy was incredibly brief. To truly master the move, he would have to repeat the same action countless times.
Even so, there was no denying that it was fun.
Ting!
A crisp, rare sound rang out.
"But is this actually fun?" Andrew asked.
Even as Encrid focused entirely on clashing their swords, energy radiated from his entire body. He was happy—so happy, excited, and thrilled. Like a child who could play with a toy all day, he was doing exactly that.
It looked as though he were thrusting his sword with pure joy as his weapon. That was Andrew's impression.
"Yes. Veeery much," Encrid replied, elongating his words for emphasis.
Why?
It was incomprehensible to Andrew, but to Encrid, it was only natural—just like always.
"You find this fun?"
"Yes. Muuuuch."
"This?"
"Yeah."
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang.
Sword tips clashed against sword tips countless times. After hearing Andrew's exclamations of awe over forty more times, Encrid, drenched in sweat, finally nodded.
"That's enough."
Then, he called Rem over.
"Rem, swing your axe."
He had changed opponents. Rem snorted, laughed, and swung his axe without hesitation.
Encrid couldn't afford even the slightest margin of error. Not a single opening for a precise strike could be tolerated. Otherwise, he would never be able to deflect Rem's axe perfectly. He couldn't just half-deflect it; he had to parry it completely.
That was the beginning.
After meeting sword tips, the next step was training to deflect Rem's axe. The goal wasn't just a simple deflection, but making the tip of his sword clash directly with the edge of the axe blade.
"Are you fearless, or just brainless? Get over here and kneel this instant!"
Whenever he was deep in training, the sheriff would inevitably arrive. He reacted similarly every time he saw Encrid absorbed in his work, and Encrid would reply absentmindedly.
"Ah, you're here?"
He was actually glad to see him now. Having trained and practiced repeatedly, it was time for practical combat. When Encrid raised a hand in greeting out of the internal familiarity built up over repeating this day, the sheriff's face turned beet red as he snorted in anger.
He thought Encrid was mocking him. Of course, he was.
"You son of a—"
Encrid subdued the sheriff, who was about to spout more nonsense, with a kick of "persuasion."
Dunchabel showed the security force the difference in their strength. After assigning Ragna and Dunchabel to Squire Ropode, Encrid sent Rem to rescue Marcus and welcomed Sachsen and the assassins.
"Thru—"
Before the word could even be finished, Encrid moved, and Sachsen leaped aside in perfect coordination. Stealthily and silently, using a magic artifact he carried, Sachsen suppressed his sound and presence, vanishing from sight.
Encrid drew their attention first, and then Sachsen drew it again, throwing the group of assassins into confusion. Sensing a greater threat from Sachsen, the assassins began targeting only him. Having witnessed this several times, it seemed as though they had been determined to kill Sachsen from the very beginning.
Why?
A sudden question arose. A few thoughts crossed his mind, but he let them drift away. A suspicion born of intuition had surfaced, but now was not the time to question it.
Riding Odd-Eye, he met Aisia, and then repeated "today" once more.
Deflecting Rem's strike completely was accomplished much faster than expected. Especially since Rem wasn't swinging for "real." It took only ninety-six attempts.
This was possible because the concept of the basics had now firmly taken root in him. The training he had done with various weapons in the past also helped. As one gains more experience, realizations about one's original weapon naturally follow.
Of course, whenever Rem saw this, he snorted.
"That kind of thing is supposed to just happen naturally, but your body is truly bizarre."
To borrow his words, once your level rises, certain things are supposed to become second nature, but Encrid possessed no such luxury. Rem had compared him to a stone tower that could only rise if built piece by piece, hand by hand—a stone tower that had to be stacked with utmost care and prayer so it wouldn't collapse.
It was a very fitting metaphor. If he didn't master every single thing, from the basics onward, his body simply wouldn't retain it.
What is the most necessary thing for those who fill the absence of talent with effort?
Time. And he had received that time through a curse.
"What's even more bizarre is how a person seems to change overnight."
Even to Rem, a person like this was a first. He clearly had no talent, he was at his limit, and he had reached the edge of a cliff—yet he walked on thin air. Watching him walk like that, a path seemed to form beneath his feet.
This was the Encrid who had withstood his axe. He had advanced and improved further than before. The growth rate of his skills was extraordinary. No genius changes overnight; there are always signs or indications beforehand.
No, wait. Were those signs already there?
Rem scratched his head vigorously as he thought. Encrid already had a prepared body, techniques, and hours of training. So, did Encrid possess a talent that accumulated and accumulated, only to explode in a single day?
That makes no sense.
Rem had seen so many nonsensical things that he tried to just let it go, but it was fascinating every single time. Still, it wasn't something to argue about.
"Sachsen."
This was after he had more or less managed to withstand Rem's axe. Encrid utilized Sachsen. For among them, only Sachsen displayed a level of precision comparable to Sinar's sword.
It wasn't that Rem and Ragna lacked such elements. Those two also wielded detailed and precise weapons. Once your level becomes high enough, you learn to do everything. But everyone has their strengths. Sachsen's precision was on par with that of an elf. That was one of his strengths.
"Make it waver."
He had Sachsen waver his sword tip as he struck, repeating the training of clashing their blades. Sometimes, this happened after facing and fighting Aisia.
"Unless you left a lover behind, why don't you leave later?"
He tried to stop her, but Aisia wouldn't listen.
"I have something to confirm," she merely said every time before turning away.
And then, darkness. Once again, today repeated.
"Damn it, what did you do?"
He saw Rem’s surprise in the new "today." He called over Sachsen, whose eyes shone as he watched, and repeated the training. Because so many events overlapped in each repeating today, he used them as anchors to keep count.
The Ferryman, who appeared occasionally, laughed. Could it be described as a laugh filled with anticipation? That was how it sounded and looked to Encrid.
Heh, heh.
The laughter drifted over the black river. The light of the lamp flickered along with the laughter.
Encrid didn't care if someone mocked him. In truth, it didn't matter if it was the Ferryman or anyone else. Since childhood, amid countless jeers, he had swung his sword, run, tumbled, fought, and stood back up. If anything, mockery was familiar. From the start, that kind of psychological attack held no meaning for him.
Thus, he woke up and repeated today once more. He trained and disciplined himself.
It was around the time he could meet the tip of Sachsen's sword with his own. That is, when he managed to roughly block Aisia's Sword Tip Aiming by shielding with his blade.
"...How?"
Aisia was several times more shocked.
"It just happened."
It was a moment that couldn't be chalked up to mere luck. A thrill rushed through his entire body along with a wave of pleasure, bringing an involuntary smile to his face.
Seeing this, Aisia pulled her sword back. "Your face is a weapon too, I see."
Aisia took a step back and aimed her sword again. "Do it again."
He did. He met her sword tip and shielded against it.
"You want to do it like Rem? Sloppy."
She spoke abruptly, then began to waver her sword tip.
What was this now? It was a technique he hadn't seen during their spars. The tip of her sword vibrated. Soon, the single point obscuring his vision multiplied into several. To block it like Rem, he would have to strike down each one individually.
If he repeated and trained, he would eventually master that too. But that was not the path he would walk. It was just as he had resolved at the beginning.
I must build the process myself.
He had already gained everything he could from mimicking Rem's method.
"Did it look easy just because every single one of you bastards broke my technique?" Aisia said.
Her tone didn't carry resentment. Although Encrid's technique of meeting and shielding her sword tip was surprising, it was merely an imitation of what Rem had shown. She had expected him to have hidden this level of talent. Otherwise, how could he have polished his swordsmanship and physical combat skills to this extent?
In any case, she was also a member of the order who had risen above the rank of associate knight. She had received countless challenges like this. It was familiar to her.
"If you thought you were blocked because of this, you'd better think again."
As she spoke, she lowered her sword tip. The points vanished. All of those vibrating into multiples were gone. Instead, she began to create a rhythm by lightly bouncing in place, tapping her feet against the ground. Her orange hair swayed to that rhythm. Naturally, her arsenal wasn't limited to just Sword Tip Aiming.
"Let's do more," she said in that stance.
"Obviously." Encrid nodded.
With their brief conversation over, Silver, Spark, and the Dwarf's Gift sliced through the air and danced. On the other side, Aisia's rapier reflected a blue light as it thrust, slashed, struck, and occasionally lunged forward as if bending.
It was still difficult to block or subdue her without sustaining a single injury. However, he could now spar with her all day. Yet, there was a clear time limit. For some reason, this "today" didn't end at midnight, but the moment the sun plummeted.
And then, today would simply repeat. It was a fact he knew from experience. Therefore, he always had to do his best within the given time.
"Pant, pant. Why did your skills suddenly shoot up?"
Hearing Aisia's words, Encrid smiled and replied, "It's fun."
"You crazy bastard."
Seeing him only say what he wanted, Aisia couldn't help but laugh too. For she, too, felt a thrill as she swung her sword and fought with her life on the line, completely out of step with the situation.
"See you again."
The sun set. Then, today repeated.
He was blocked. Thus, it was a "today" he could not surpass. Opening his eyes once more, Encrid decided to mimic Sachsen's method this time.
"Now, next."
Muttering to himself to steel his resolve had become a habit.
"What is next?" Andrew asked from beside him as Encrid warmed up with the Isolation Technique.
"Just something."
After giving a vague answer, Encrid began to mimic Sachsen's method. The way to defeat her Sword Tip Aiming was to strike before it even began.
What was needed for that?
"Prediction. You must feel the opponent's reaction right before it starts."
"How?"
"You just need to feel the trembling of their eyelashes, the contraction of the muscles hidden beneath their clothes, and things of that nature."
Easier said than done. Truly.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"It's nothing."
"Your eyes looked a bit like a barbarian's just now."
"What are you talking about? You stray cat bastard, I'm the one who's offended," Rem chimed in. "It was a rather unpleasant look, like a mix of rotten pollack and eggs."
Sachsen ignored him and continued speaking to Encrid, only to face a throwing axe. He placed his longsword against the spinning throwing axe that flew in with a whoosh and twisted it. With the right amount of force and timing, the axe, which had looked like a spinning disc, was deflected vertically with a loud clang.
Clang!
It was a rapid exchange of offense and defense, followed by the ringing sound. Technique was blended into the blocking motion. It was a soft sword possessing precision.
After blocking it like that, Sachsen said, "Just now, the barbarian's snort came faster than usual."
Was he trying to show an example? Predicting based on a snort? It was likely a prediction made within the realm of the sixth sense, built upon countless experiences.
Encrid silently watched their bickering and sparring. Sachsen was always one step ahead. It was just as he said. Beyond the Sense of Evasion and the Sense of Attack, he now had to adjust all of his intuition and sixth sense to match a single technique of his opponent.
Could it be called a sense of prediction? As he began this new discipline, learning and mastering it anew...
"This is seriously so much fun," he muttered to himself once more.
Seeing this, the Ferryman truly wanted to shake his head in disbelief. To that madman, there was no such thing as boredom, suffering, or despair. It was as if he were locked in a closed space, swinging his sword alone and enjoying every moment of it.
Because of the repeating today, there was no one to share his memories, but that was fine. He didn't care. In truth, Encrid was fine because he had something that shared everything with him.
The process of swinging his sword, the path he forged, the skills he accumulated, and everything that changed were his yardsticks. They were his joy. He was fine because he shared today with his sword.
After mimicking even Sachsen's technique... and even dabbling in Ragna's, he continued the fight, declaring he would face Aisia with something other than Sword Tip Aiming.
Encrid's sword grazed Aisia's throat.
To be precise, he had blocked with Silver, drawn his Gladius, and executed an unpredictable horizontal slash. With a sharp sting, a part of her skin tore, and droplets of blood welled up. The entire scene seemed to unfold in slow motion.
He had strength to spare. He could push forward like this. He knew it. However, though his mind knew it, his heart would not allow it.
I reached her.
But he didn't kill her. If he had pressed on consecutively, he might have been pierced somewhere himself, but it was a moment where he could have killed her. With good luck, he'd end up with a single hole in his shoulder; with bad luck, a fatal wound.
In the end, it was clearly an opportunity to kill her, but Encrid stopped. The same opportunity did not present itself again.
Clang!
Their swords clashed, and they swapped positions. Aisia stood where Encrid had originally been, and Encrid stood in her place. Blood trickled down his dangling arm.
"When an opportunity comes, you must seize it," Aisia said.
It was something they both knew. Encrid did not reply. Aisia sheathed her sword.
"Let's stop here. Once I check on something in the back, I'll let you go. Though the reason you came here will probably be meaningless anyway."
Encrid still did not reply. Aisia brushed past Encrid completely unguarded, her sword already put away. After she left, he sat there blankly as time ticked away. A short while later, today came to an end.
It was just like the dozens of other "todays" that had ended in the exact same manner. Passing through the darkness of the blackout, he opened his eyes to see a purple lamp.
It was the Ferryman. The Ferryman on the ferryboat spoke.
"That is the wall."
He was uncharacteristically kind. And with good reason.
"Did I not tell you it would be fun?" the Ferryman continued.
Of course, to Encrid, it wasn't particularly fun at all.