Chapter 430: Squad Member, Fiancée, Mage
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 430: Squad Member, Fiancée, Mage
How long had it been since the sword in his hand felt this heavy?
For about a year after he first picked up a blade, it had always felt heavy. Swinging that hunk of iron just a few times would make his arm muscles tremble, and the sharp, tingling pain in the webbing of his hand would linger all day.
Those were the days when even a wooden sword felt like a burden.
But right now, it was several times harder than back then.
It’s heavy.
It felt as if dozens of iron weights had been hung from the blade.
If he relaxed his grip even slightly, the sword seemed ready to plunge straight down and bury itself in the dirt. The muscles in both his arms shook violently.
It was unbelievable. Between his natural constitution and Audin’s training, physical strength was the one thing he rarely felt he lacked.
But right now, he didn't even have the luxury to dwell on that. He was solely focused on enduring the crushing weight of the sword, leaving no room for any other thought to enter his mind.
So heavy.
It felt like he would drop the sword at any moment. Raising the tip of the blade even a fraction felt as grueling as crossing a midwinter mountain peak stark naked.
The rain that had briefly fallen and soaked his body had long since evaporated from the heat radiating from the battle, but now sweat began to pour, quickly drenching Encrid’s entire body once more.
Drops of sweat traced down his chin, plunging relentlessly toward the ground.
It’s incredibly heavy.
At this rate, he would naturally drop the sword. It was a miracle he had managed to fight while holding something this massive. He hadn't even had a moment to catch his breath, which had been ragged for a while now. His breathing was as labored as if he had run all day without a single break.
The sweat increased, completely soaking him. It felt like he had stepped into a bathtub with his clothes on and climbed back out.
Yet, the hardest part remained the lump of iron in his hand. The famous sword Aker, which had fit so snugly in his hand when he first held it, now felt like a thrashing snake trying to escape his grip.
Why is it so heavy?
He didn't know why. He had merely deflected his opponent's spearhead.
It was then that Anu approached and whispered to Encrid, who had exhausted his physical and mental strength just parrying the blow. Though the time Encrid spent holding the sword and enduring felt like an eternity to him, in reality, it had only been a brief moment.
After all, it was only long enough to exchange a few words.
"Can you overcome the weight? The Bull is a fellow that likes to dump its burden onto others."
Encrid couldn't fully grasp the meaning behind his opponent's words, but he understood one thing.
"If you drop it, that will be your limit. And then, even in death, you won't be able to achieve what you desire."
To say that he had to die meant that he could only achieve his goal by running with death constantly by his side. Even without hearing the King's words, Encrid already felt it.
He must not let go of what was currently in his hand.
There was only one clear fact. Encrid thought he might drop the sword, but conversely, he also knew he wouldn't.
If I were to let go just because it's heavy...
...I wouldn't have even taken a single step toward such an absurd dream.
"Did you wish to become a knight? Then see, experience, and accumulate much. All of it will aid you on your path."
The King spoke further. They were vague words—at least, that was how they sounded to Encrid right now. However, Anu's tone was filled with nothing but goodwill.
"If you do not forget what is carried in your sword, the path will open."
Those few short words remained etched in Encrid's mind. This remained true even as sweat poured down and the tip of his blade trembled.
"I owe you one."
The King patted his shoulder one last time before leaving.
Encrid saw the tip of his sword dip slightly below his line of sight.
The Will of Rejection, the Heart of Monstrous Strength, the Beast's Heart, Single-Point Focus, Sensory Technique, and even his physical body trained through the Isolation Technique...
Even drawing upon everything, none of it helped him endure the weight of the sword right now. The King's Bull made the weapon in his opponent's hand feel heavier than ever before.
It was a mystery wrought by Will.
Even while recognizing this, Encrid ultimately forced the tip of his sword upward. Just because everything he had learned failed to work did not mean the resolve he had built within himself would break.
If he were going to give up, he wouldn't have started in the first place.
The tip of the sword slowly rose. Having finally lifted the sword properly, Encrid instantly forgot its weight. The burden that the King's Bull had placed upon it vanished.
Only then did Encrid realize, for the first time in a very long while, that the webbing of his hand had torn. Red liquid was trickling down from the hand holding the sword. The leather wrapped around Aker's hilt was soaked in blood, turning a dull, dark color.
It was a wound sustained when the Bull's horns had first caught and twisted Aker's blade, attempting to wrench it from his hand, and he had refused to let go. It was the price of withstanding a knight's disarming technique.
Realizing this, Encrid staggered and collapsed.
"How foolish," someone said, catching his falling body. It was Esther's voice.
With that, Encrid lost consciousness.
*
Encrid dreamed. Had it been a while?
It was a real dream, not one featuring the Ferryman.
"You plan to make a living by the sword? Forget it. You'll die young."
"Even for those with outstanding talent, surviving past fifty is rare in the mercenary trade."
This was from before he could even properly speak of his dream. These were the words left by those who told him to abandon the very rowboat he would use to navigate the ocean of his ambitions.
That rowboat has a hole in its bottom.
You cannot move forward.
Your oars are broken and rotten.
Again, you cannot move forward.
The boat you ride is made of fallen leaves. You expect to go out to sea in that? It would sink even on a lake or a river.
Therefore, you cannot move forward.
Everyone said the same thing.
Aside from his squad members, Encrid had seen only two people seriously listen and respond to his dream. It wasn't Frok Luagarne, either. She had judged it impossible, only feeling a sense of mystery upon seeing Encrid achieve it anyway.
Krang.
One was his friend sitting on the throne of Naurilia. Upon hearing the dream Encrid spoke of, he had said he found his own path.
And the other was the King of the East.
Though it was a brief time, Encrid had been able to refine what he possessed through their sparring. The strange thing was, though he expected to hear countless times during the sparring that he had no talent, the King of the East had said no such thing.
Back when he lacked the skill to overwhelm his opponents as he did now, most of those who came to him after hearing of his dream would debate his talent. The only reason they couldn't do so now was because Encrid's swordsmanship was now superior to theirs.
Yet the King was someone whose position and skill easily qualified him to declare that Encrid had no talent. He could have lamented the lack of talent or been surprised by it, but he remained nonchalant.
Rather, before leaving, he had said:
"Do not forget what is carried in your sword, and move forward. The path will open."
It was encouragement, and it was belief.
Encrid ignored all the words of those whose faces didn't even emerge from beyond the veil. The rowboat made of fallen leaves had somehow become a caravel crafted from well-treated, waterproof oak, and the oars woven from rotten vines had become sturdy oars made of carefully planed planks.
Possessing both ship and oars, Encrid saw the signposts and the path.
What must I do to become a knight?
As everything around him blurred, the Knight of Azpen appeared.
"Block just once, and I will let you live."
Had he said that? He probably hadn't, but this was a dream. The opponent's exact words didn't matter; the meaning did.
That he only needed to block once.
The Knight of Azpen swung his sword. It was a sword that was purely fast and strong. Since parrying was impossible, he had struck first instead. The knight had retreated for the sake of his honor.
Using that strike as a benchmark, Encrid had honed various techniques—slashing down, thrusting, and swinging his sword.
Afterward, Encrid also saw the various techniques shown by Anu's Bull. The King of the East had shown him the artistry of using Will.
Had the King wished it, he might have easily killed someone like Encrid in an instant. Though Encrid had no intention of dying easily since he would resist to the end, that was the reality. He had somehow forgotten that today would repeat if he died.
And then...
"This brat..."
The Ferryman tore through one side of the dream and barged in. He, too, was part of the dream.
Ignoring the Ferryman, Encrid lost himself in thought and gained a small realization. It was a signpost that pointed out the path, however faintly.
They are different.
The path the King of the East had walked was different from that of the Knight of Azpen, and the trajectory of their techniques differed. The two were distinctly different. So very different.
With that final thought, Encrid opened his eyes.
A faint ache resonated throughout his entire body, and his grip throbbed. Lifting his hand, he saw it was wrapped tightly in bandages. He saw the dark outdoors and the glow of a lamp, and he also noticed someone sitting in the chair right next to the bed.
"Sinar?"
"Since you called my name, I suppose all that's left is to hold the ceremony."
An elven joke rang in his ears. Encrid asked instead of laughing, as it was hard to easily laugh at an elf's jokes.
"What are you doing?"
"Admiring."
He didn't need to ask what she was admiring. After all, she was looking at him with one leg crossed, her elbow resting on her knee, and her chin propped in her hand.
"You collapse from fighting at the drop of a hat," Sinar continued.
Encrid shrugged as if it were nothing.
"Once you get up, I can show you something interesting."
"What do you mean?"
From her seated position, Sinar showed a faint smile she would never show to anyone else. Along with that smile, she uncrossed her legs, lowered her arm, and drew her sword to thrust. It was at a speed and angle that defied comprehension.
It was as if Naidel had pierced his heart from outside Encrid's perception.
He felt as if he should cough up blood. The muscles of his entire body tensed up, making him momentarily forget his muscle aches. Death was right before his eyes.
Was he going to close his eyes and die like this? No, that wasn't it.
"How is it?"
With Sinar's words, the sword that had pierced his heart vanished like grains of sand. She had done nothing more than uncross her legs and let her arms hang loosely while seated.
It was entirely an illusion. No, it was a potential reality shown by her sheer momentum.
"This is...?"
"Do you think I left your side for so long for no reason?"
Despite the elven joke, Encrid instantly realized a few facts. Having experienced a knight's martial prowess twice now, it was actually easier to understand. What Sinar had just shown him was the martial prowess of a knight.
The panther, who had been watching from the side, approached and snuggled into Encrid's arms. It seemed to be protesting to Sinar that she had done enough and should leave.
"I will be waiting for you to recover," Sinar said.
Encrid's heart pounded. He wanted to ignore the muscle aches throbbing throughout his body, get up, and grip his sword. A desire surged within him to face the real sword Sinar would wield.
Thump.
Esther patted Encrid's chest with her forepaw. It seemed to be telling him to hold back.
"I know," Encrid replied.
He knew it, too. He couldn't fight properly with a body like this. Even sparring was out of the question. So, holding back was the right choice. Instead, he would focus on recovery, and the moment he could spring up and hold his sword upright, he would grab Sinar and swing his blade.
"How is she? Your fiancée."
Sinar asked, her smile already wiped clean from her face, and Encrid had no choice but to answer.
"She is the best."
"As long as you know."
The elf quietly stood up. With movements that still left barely a trace of her presence, she walked out of the barracks. The creak of the hinges announced her departure.
"Aren't you going to sleep? You just woke up from fainting and you're already making a fuss."
"Ugh, it's been a while since we slept in the barracks, what is all this?"
"Please pray. That way, your recovery will also be swift."
"Snore."
Rem, Krais, and Audin spoke, and the last was the sound of Ragna snoring. Ragna was a guy who wouldn't snore unless he was exceptionally tired, yet for some reason, he was providing snores instead of a lullaby.
"How long was I out?"
"Exactly half a day."
"Please go back to sleep. You must not ignore the danger signals your body is sending, Brother. So sleep and let it settle."
Rem spoke, and Audin chimed in. Esther patted his chest once more. It meant to rest. They weren't wrong. Encrid closed his eyes, thinking. He felt like he could fall asleep right away. As drowsiness washed over him...
...he sensed Sachsen, who had been watching silently from the side, placing a small jar of ointment next to the bed.
"It's medicine," Sachsen said, returning to his spot.
Encrid wondered what had brought him back to the barracks today. Though Dunchabel, Teresa, Pel, and Ropode had different quarters, the four of them stood in front of the barracks as if on guard duty.
Unable to know even that much, Encrid fell back into a deep sleep.
*
After joining the Border Guard, Esther frequently left the barracks. Had Encrid paid more attention, he might have noticed, but he was completely absorbed in swinging his sword. Just like usual, one might say.
Thus, Esther roamed the Pen-Hanil River and the surrounding lakes, mountains, and forests. It was to restore her Spell World, which had been damaged during her confrontation with the Count.
While she was at it, she also tinkered with that Bonehead fellow she had acquired previously. She even summoned a few spirits with whom she had contracted in the past.
"Flesh-eater, do I look like prey to you?"
She also encountered packs of ghouls a few times. The outpost facilities and regional security measures that Krais had pushed to establish had the side effect of forcing the scattered monsters to band together. Since monsters moving in small numbers could no longer survive, it was only natural for those with any survival instinct left to group up.
This was one of those ghoul packs. Monsters that wouldn't have dared to even meet her gaze in the past now fearlessly bared their ugly fangs.
Although Esther had not mastered necromancy, making a few of these ghouls her thralls wouldn't have been difficult, but there was no need to do so. In fact, it was closer to something she shouldn't do.
That would be lowering my standards, not raising them.
The moment that thought crossed her mind, Esther summoned flames with a flick of her hand and roasted the six ghouls.
Krrraaagh.
The ghouls, burning to death as their entire bodies caught fire, soon turned into charred, foul-smelling lumps of flesh.
I'm really working hard, too.
Esther knew the reason why she was doing this. The guy standing beside her was constantly struggling and moving forward. She had realized that standing by such a person's side required more than half-hearted determination.
If I merely stop at recovering my former strength, the name of the Fighting Witch would weep.
Therefore, she too would go further. Conveniently, there was a good opportunity. If she wandered deep into the Pen-Hanil Mountains searching for hidden ruins or monsters to hone what she possessed, she would surely find enlightenment.
If Ragna was a genius of swordsmanship... Esther was a genius of magic.
She knew the path she had to walk, and the moment she saw something, she could distinguish between what was necessary and what was not. She also knew she could go further with that.
Ah, what a fool.
Recalling Encrid collapsing before that fellow who called himself the King of the East, Esther murmured to herself.
He—Encrid—would go further. It was obvious he would continue to get tangled up with half-baked demons or mages like the Count in the future. Because that was the nature of the path he walked.
She would sweep away those who tried to play tricks with magic on that path. Esther intended to satisfy her pride by proving herself in that manner. To think that the Fighting Witch herself had taken refuge with him, yet was of no help at all.
That is something I cannot allow.
This was a matter of her very worth.
At the same time, Esther wondered if Encrid would be able to achieve what he desired. What would the path that man walked be like? Where would its end be? These were things she hadn't been curious about at all when looking at the King of the East.
It was after Esther had trained her magic while traveling back and forth through the mountains, organizing the useful ones among the six magic systems she had learned at the Mage Tower in her youth.
On her way back to the unit, a certain soldier caught her eye. She didn't know his name. However, as that soldier rolled dice, he was unconsciously moving mana.
It was magical talent.
Esther was about to pass by indifferently, but changed her mind and approached him.
"You, follow me."
Interest? No. It was for her own sake.
There are things one learns by teaching.
Her master's words had said so, and her own experience agreed. That was why. The target of her attention, a soldier known as the best gambler in the Border Guard, could only blink.
"Huh?"
"If you don't come, I will inflict upon you a suffering worse than death."
Esther acted as she always did, and since the soldier knew she was the mage nicknamed "Encrid's fiancée," he didn't offer any useless resistance.
Reassigning a single soldier was something Graham, who was actually in charge of the Border Guard's forces, would handle on his own. And indeed, Battalion Commander Graham handled it just like that.
"A soldier? A squad leader? She took a low-ranking soldier? Leave her be, she'll handle it."
Those were the words of the Battalion Commander upon hearing that either Esther or the panther had taken a soldier.