Chapter 42: I Was Lucky
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 42: I Was Lucky
Ragna asked, his voice heavy with the weight of the technique known as Single-Point Focus.
"Are you really going to try and learn it?"
"Of course."
Encrid didn't hesitate for a second.
When did he get this good? Ragna wondered.
Encrid’s fundamentals in Northern-style heavy swordsmanship were rock-solid. It wasn't just a simple posture learned by swinging at empty air, either; it had been forged in the fires of real combat, fitting him like a second skin.
Impressive.
The squad leader was a truly fascinating man. Until yesterday, he had clearly relied on the unorthodox Valen-style mercenary sword as his primary style. Yet today, he was demonstrating incredibly disciplined fundamentals.
"Who did you learn the sword from?"
"It cost a lot of money," Encrid replied.
It was a simple way of saying he’d hired an instructor.
It really must have cost a fortune.
It made sense. Even if Ragna himself had trained the man, the results couldn't have been better than this. Encrid was ready to learn what lay beyond the basics. That was why Ragna had brought up Single-Point Focus in the first place.
However, even as he spoke of it, Ragna remained secretly skeptical.
Just because you learn the theory doesn't mean you can reach the state.
Although Ragna claimed to have developed the technique himself, it was actually one of his family's secret arts. Of course, he hadn't passed it on exactly as it was—he couldn't just hand out his family's heritage to anyone—so he taught a modified, improved version. Thus, calling it a technique he developed wasn't entirely a lie.
Though I've never actually seen anyone else pull it off.
Ragna had seen fewer than five people enter that state of focus in his entire life. Considering the time he had spent wandering the continent and his vast experience, it was an incredibly small number.
Fewer than five? Honestly, it's probably closer to three.
Two of those five were like a blindly shot arrow accidentally hitting a wolf's head. They had merely picked up a coin dropped by the Goddess of Fortune. Only three people truly knew how to control that focus at will.
It was a matter of pure talent.
Forgetting one's surroundings and focusing entirely on a single point was no easy feat. This kind of talent wasn't limited to swordsmanship; some scholars displayed this level of concentration when mastering their fields. They could enter that state of immersion at will, absorbing themselves completely in their work.
But doing that in the middle of a life-or-death fight? Could that possibly be easy?
He couldn't help but be skeptical. Even if one got lucky and experienced it briefly, mastering it was a different story.
It's hard. Incredibly hard.
Ragna had made Concentrate One his own after stepping into it just once, but... Encrid would find it nearly impossible.
Yet, how could the man have such piercing eyes?
"Aren't you going to explain?" Encrid asked. "I already know about stillness, weight, speed, joy, and flow, so you don't need to mention them. Just teach me Single-Point Focus."
How could someone be so straightforward?
It felt like looking at an upright tree—a giant tree that stood tall and unyielding, unburned even when typhoons raged and thunderstorms struck. Even though the technique sounded like chasing clouds, the squad leader insisted on learning it. He even nodded as if he roughly understood the concept.
It looked genuine. Then again, the squad leader was always sincere. Whether training, swinging his sword, or doing anything else, he threw himself into it with everything he had. It was because that dedication was so impressive that Ragna was teaching him this now.
"I think I get it," the squad leader said.
Ragna nodded, even though he was certain Encrid must have misunderstood. It was a nod of encouragement.
He knew the limits of talent all too well. They say geniuses usually don't look beneath their feet, but Ragna had seen what lay below while wandering the continent. He had descended into the depths, met the people living there, talked with them, and clashed swords.
Talent.
How many had crumbled before those two syllables?
The squad leader would likely be one of them. That was the natural order of things. Yet, because he didn't give up, looking at him filled Ragna with motivation. It was selfish, but because the squad leader refused to quit, Ragna felt he could keep walking his own path as well.
So, he would teach him with everything he had. Ragna resolved to do just that.
"Forgetting your surroundings, forgetting yourself, leaving nothing but pure focus. That is Concentrate One, Single-Point Focus. They say that when your life is on the line, your past flashes before your eyes in an instant. Use that sensation as a reference."
"Is that so? I see."
For some reason, as soon as he said this, the squad leader seemed to tune him out. He wasn't the type to do that, and he was certainly not someone who would give up just because a task seemed impossible.
After that, Ragna tried to force him into focus by threatening him with his sword several times, but the squad leader still couldn't enter the state.
"Alright. Let's go."
Yet, Encrid headed to the battlefield with a remarkably bright expression. Seeing that, Ragna felt a sudden surge of motivation.
"I guess I'll have to warm up properly today."
Normally, he would have played the part of the lazy genius, swinging his sword listlessly. These were not words that should have come from his mouth.
Encrid stared blankly at Ragna.
*
What's wrong with him now?
Well, it's not a bad thing if he wants to fight seriously.
Leaving the shining-eyed Ragna behind, Encrid focused on the task at hand.
Today had restarted. Ragna's training method for Single-Point Focus was wrong for him. No, even if it was technically correct, a method that a genius grasped in an instant was a coat that didn't fit a man like Encrid.
Then, was his own method correct? He didn't know if it would work.
So, what should he do?
I just have to test it.
Encrid moved along his familiar route. He adjusted his allies' movements, telling them to get down and raise their shields, then called for Rem.
"Sorcery! Who is it?!" Rem shouted, foaming at the mouth upon seeing the magical interference.
"Follow me!" Encrid said, tapping Rem on the shoulder from behind.
"Huh?"
"We're charging."
"Huh? Squad leader, did you eat something rotten?"
Even as he complained, Rem followed perfectly. It was the same route. This time, Ragna followed even without being called.
"Are we charging? If we're crushing the enemy's vanguard, let me join you."
"Did you eat something bad too?" Rem grumbled, looking at Ragna. Ragna ignored him and dashed forward.
Although the mist had rolled in, there was no major restriction on their movements yet.
Rem was like a typhoon. The two axes in his hands pulverized the enemy. He looked ready to carve through eighty infantrymen all by himself.
Ragna was like a heavy battering ram. He ruthlessly shattered the wall of infantry. He wasn't fast, but his hands knew no mercy. Whether a quarrel flew at him or an enemy's spear lunged, he cut and sliced through everything with a single arming sword.
It was an astonishing display of skill.
At least Special Class.
In the Naurilia Kingdom, "Special Class" was a rank that collectively referred to soldiers above Senior Class. Above Senior was Highest Class, and beyond that lay Special Class.
No, maybe Highest Class?
Encrid still didn't know his own level clearly, so he couldn't accurately gauge theirs either. In any case, now was not the time to stand around watching.
Taking the same route, Encrid stood before Mitch Hurier.
"Let's fight."
This time, he spoke first. Mitch's eyes widened in surprise before he smirked.
"Crazy bastard. You've walked right into your own death."
He wasn't wrong. Even if Encrid killed Mitch now, there would be no way for him to survive the surrounding army. But it was fine. He hadn't come to die; he had come to clash with everything he had.
"Did you come targeting me? Unbelievable. This is a first." Mitch’s entire body language radiated absurdity.
"Why? Is this your first time getting a confession? I fell for you at first sight, so I came looking," Encrid said.
Mitch chuckled, then his gaze turned razor-sharp.
"My unit is the Gray Dog, the Persistent Lover. It's been a very long time since someone sought me out before I sought them."
"Ah, is that so? Are you disappointed? Should I go hide again so you can come find me?"
"Cut the nonsense."
Mitch Hurier lunged. Encrid steadied his breath. He burned with the will to enter the state of focus, but failed.
The outcome of the battle was decided in an instant. His opponent was superior to Encrid in skill, mental strength, and talent. Mitch was not an opponent Encrid could face by relying solely on basic fundamentals.
"What made you think you could challenge me? And how did you even get this far?"
Encrid’s lungs and intestines were shredded by the sword. It hurt like hell, as if someone had stuffed red-hot coals into his stomach.
"I challenged you because I believed in myself. I just made a mistake this time. My mindset was wrong."
Even though he was living "today" again, repeating the same experience was no easy task.
"What?"
"I think I can do it next time, though."
Just as realization had struck when he first entered the state of focus, he had gained another small insight now.
So, let's try again.
"Even if I let you go, you're dead. What 'next time' is there?"
"Isn't he a lunatic? Don't waste your time on him, Platoon Leader."
Shring!
An enemy soldier nearby drew his sword and pressed it against Encrid's neck. Encrid didn't wait; he twisted his neck, cutting himself directly on the blade.
Slash.
The blade was well-sharpened. A deep laceration formed on his neck, accompanied by a searing pain. Due to the violent movement, agony flared simultaneously from his stomach and his throat.
Enduring the agonizing pain—the literal sensation of dying—Encrid opened his mouth.
"See you again."
Leaving behind those words, he died, blood pooling around him.
*
Today began once more.
And Encrid sought out Mitch Hurier again.
"Good to see you, friend."
"……Are you seriously looking for me?"
"Yeah. That's right. I came looking for the platoon leader of the Gray Dog, the Persistent Lover. Let's fight."
"You're a lunatic."
They clashed again. Encrid realized his mistake.
I shouldn't try to force it.
If you keep thinking that you must focus, you get buried in that very thought. So what should he do? He just had to do it like the first time. As if dancing to the opponent's sword, as if keeping time with his own blade.
He fought and fought again.
It took eighteen repetitions of "today" in the exact same manner. Only then did Encrid enter the state of focus once more.
He was incredibly overjoyed. Even as he lay face down on the ground with one arm severed, a laugh escaped his lips. He was so happy he forgot the pain.
"You're laughing?"
Seeing this, Mitch brought his sword down. That was the end of it.
Repeat.
He kept going. Until he succeeded. Anyone watching would have called him a monster. They would have praised his incredible persistence. But for Encrid, this wasn't something that required mere persistence.
Entering the state of focus... and improving the swordsmanship engraved in his body by clashing blades with a worthy opponent over and over again... was so deeply satisfying that it was pure joy.
After twenty-eight repetitions of today, Encrid got a feel for the state of focus.
By the forty-eighth repetition, he could intentionally summon Single-Point Focus.
And after ninety-four more repetitions, he became capable of summoning Single-Point Focus whenever he wished.
Pure focus. It meant having absolute control over his sword and his body. Once he achieved that, technique naturally followed strength. It was only after mastering Single-Point Focus in this manner that he began the act of learning from Ragna once again.
When Encrid immediately demonstrated Single-Point Focus right after being taught, Ragna's brow furrowed.
"What is this?"
"What?"
"It feels like you've already learned this somewhere. No, this isn't something you can just do because you were taught. Are you... a genius?"
A genius? Even with the immense luck of having such profound experience, it had taken him over a hundred repetitions to finally engrave it into his body. Encrid knew he lacked talent, but he didn't dwell on it. He was simply enjoying the present moment to the fullest.
So, he spoke the words that had become second nature to him through the repetitions of today.
"I was lucky."
"You're saying luck is enough to pull this off?"
Ragna was utterly dumbfounded. Watching him, Encrid thought it was time to escape this "today." After pretending to be a genius by cherry-picking the absolute essence of Single-Point Focus, Encrid turned his back on Ragna.
"Where are you going?" Ragna asked.
"To see the Company Commander."
Ragna let Encrid go. He was simply too amazed by the fact that Encrid had grasped Single-Point Focus in a single try. Was the squad leader really a genius? It didn't seem like it. Although he had demonstrated Single-Point Focus, it possessed the exquisite precision of a statue carved through countless strikes. It was absolutely not something learned from a single glance.
How is that even possible?
Ragna quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn't as if thinking about it would give him an answer anyway. Letting it go was the best option. It was just that seeing such a squad leader filled him with motivation.
Encrid, seeing Ragna's eyes shining today as well, figured that no matter what happened, today was just a day where Ragna's motivation would soar.
I should just do my job.
Now was not the time to worry about Ragna. No matter what they did, their allies would suffer near-total annihilation in this battle. To prevent that, two things were necessary.
One was clearing the Mist of Massacre. The other was having their allies keep their heads down while the mist cleared.
He couldn't do both at the same time. Encrid only had one body.
Breaking the flagpole also posed a problem. Even after launching a surprise attack, he would have to escape from the very heart of the enemy camp. Encrid had no intention of remaining trapped in "today." Therefore, he had to shatter the strategy the enemy had prepared.
"I wish to see the Company Commander," Encrid said to the 4th Platoon Leader.
"……Now?"
Since they could feel the battlefield drawing near, the atmosphere among the troops was tense. In such a situation, asking to see the Company Commander was bound to seem absurd.
The Platoon Leader was resting, having leaned his long spear against the barracks wall. Still wearing his boots, the Platoon Leader sat up from his cot.
"Yes, now."
"Why?"
"Because I remembered something I saw during the previous scouting mission."
The 4th Platoon Leader stared intently at Encrid, then nodded and stood up. A cracking sound echoed from his knees. He stretched and asked, "What is it?"
"I believe what the Azpen forces have hidden is sorcery."
"Sorcery?"
"Yes."
The Platoon Leader hesitated, pausing mid-step as if doubting the claim. But then, remembering that Encrid wasn't one to talk nonsense, he quickened his pace. If there was something to be said, it had to be said. The Company Commander would make the final judgment.
Soon, they arrived at the Company Commander's barracks and stepped inside.
"You asked to see me?" the Elf Company Commander asked.
The inside of the barracks was cozy. Looking at the short torch stand crackling with fire, Encrid nodded.
"Yes."
"What is it about?"
The Elf Company Commander's tone was cold, suggesting a scolding was coming if this wasn't important.
"It's about sorcery," Encrid spoke without beating around the bush.
"Sorcery?"
"The flagpole, the flag, and the person I saw in enemy territory—it was a shaman."
Though it was a bit hazy due to the agonizingly repeated "todays," he hadn't forgotten what he saw there. Encrid adapted what he had seen appropriately—just enough to be convincing. If this wasn't enough, there was nothing he could do.
I'll just have to do it again.
It was the privilege of one who repeated the day. Fortunately, the Elf Company Commander listened closely.
"Tell me more."
"I will."
He claimed he had heard the enemy soldiers shouting, "Shaman!" The Elf Company Commander's eyes flashed. Encrid didn't mention that mist would roll in; that would be going too far. Sorcery was a closely guarded secret, and recognizing it at a single glance made no sense.
This was as far as he could go; the rest was up to the Company Commander's capability.
Encrid returned to his position after delivering his message. He stood at the very front of the battlefield. Now, it was time to get past Mitch Hurier and break the flagpole.
This is as far as I can go.
The rest was up to the commanders.
"Whew."
Now, it was time to surpass the self trapped in today.