Chapter 446: What is Milio's Dream?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 446: What is Milio's Dream?
"What is swordsmanship?"
Oara asked the question after their sparring session. They were in the front yard of the house—a space too modest to even be called a training ground.
Encrid was down on one knee, clutching his stomach.
He had dodged her vertical slash and the follow-up thrust as well. They were strikes he had seen multiple times now. Activating his Sense of Evasion made them manageable to dodge.
He had avoided her blade, but immediately after her swing, Oara had slipped inside his guard and struck his abdomen with her palm.
The impact tore through his internal organs and pierced through to his back. It was a miracle he hadn't coughed up blood.
Naturally, the attack had been imbued with Will, but the movement itself was simple. Utterly simple.
"What must you do to subdue your opponent? Think about it."
Encrid nodded. When he offered a military salute, Oara smiled brightly again and walked away.
Encrid mulled over Oara's words, but they didn't quite resonate with him.
Oara returned the next day.
"Did you seriously not understand what I meant? Strange. At your level, your body should be reacting on its own."
Tilting her head, the brown-haired knight continued as if it didn't matter.
"Don't you think you know how to do too many things? When a bucket is filled to the brim, it's bound to overflow. And you can't drink spilled water, can you?"
"Is that a problem?"
"You only need to swing as much as necessary, at the exact moment it's needed. That's all. You must keep that in mind."
There was no lightning bolt of sudden realization in his mind. However, he understood what Oara was saying.
Having too much is the problem?
Oara drove the point home once more.
"Technically speaking, you have more than enough. Discard what you don't need."
She was firm, and Encrid pondered her words. It might have been the perfect advice for him right now. Yet, why was he so reluctant to accept it?
He didn't know. It was just a gut feeling. He simply didn't want to.
As he brooded, his gaze drifted to Rem, who was meticulously sharpening his axe blade.
Shhhk.
The sound of the whetstone sliding along the metal rang out clearly. It was a crisp, rhythmic sound.
Beads of sweat formed on Rem's forehead. He was utterly devoted. It was rare to see Rem working so hard on anything. He seemed to be putting several times more passion and sincerity into this than he ever did when teasing Ragna or tormenting the soldiers.
Shhhk.
The sound, which had been constant over the past few days, echoed continuously in Encrid's ears.
"Rem."
"Can't you see I'm busy?" Rem replied without even looking up.
Encrid subtly stepped into a position that blocked the sunlight, casting a shadow over Rem's head.
"Am I greedy?"
Shhhk. Rem pushed the whetstone against the blade. Repeating the motion, he replied, "Is that even a question?"
His attitude was blunt, his tone suggesting the answer was blindingly obvious. To Encrid, it sounded like he was telling him to cut the crap and stop asking stupid questions.
Encrid sat down next to Rem. He drew Aker, Spark, and his Gladius, and began to wipe them down with flaxseed oil. The blades gleamed as they caught the sunlight.
"Snort!"
Right beside them, Dunchabel was snorting as she pushed through her physical training. Nearby, Luagarne was swinging her Loop Sword and the whip wrapped around her waist. She had mentioned that her senses felt a bit dull and that she was trying to sharpen them.
Had she said it was to let him experience the Frok style of fighting? It was an exciting prospect.
After wiping down his swords, Encrid checked his supply of Whistle Daggers. Since he had three left, he sharpened their blades as well. He adjusted his throwing axes and the frame of his round shield, checking each item to ensure nothing had been damaged by the humid air. In his spare time, he swung his sword.
In the evening, they went out to clear the remaining Colony.
The remaining monsters were a pack of ghouls—specifically, spitting ghouls, a type rarely seen outside the Demon Realm borderlands. It was obvious from their appearance alone that one wouldn't want to be hit by the fluids they spat. The spit was a poison that hissed with smoke and corroded even iron; getting hit was out of the question.
Luagarne took care of them. Standing three paces away, she wrapped her whip around their necks and snapped them. The Frok were called a warrior race, and Luagarne proved why.
"Is that the end of the Colony, then?" Dunchabel asked. She looked like she wanted to head back, but Encrid ignored her.
Upon returning, they settled back into their daily life in Thousand Bricks.
During that time, Oara ventured outside the city only once, returning drenched in black blood.
"Some spider bastards were gathering, so I went and cleared them out," she said. It seemed like a light warm-up for her. "It's thanks to you, you admirable, handsome fellow. Since I don't have to worry about clearing our rear, I can take preemptive action."
A knight is one who can slay a thousand men alone. She had gone out by herself as if taking a casual stroll and cut down dozens of monsters.
Beside her were the two Associate Knights—a large-framed man and a petite woman.
"His face is slightly worse than mine, but his skills... yeah, I'll acknowledge them," the man said.
"You can ignore what this bastard says," the woman added.
Encrid looked at the two of them. These two were also formidable fighters. The same went for Oliver, the arm-wrestling champion who was a member of the order. Standing in the back, he gave Encrid a knowing look.
Encrid thought they were straightforward, honest people who didn't put on airs. Every single one of them lived without any reservations. They had no hesitation in sharing their inner thoughts or cracking jokes.
I wonder if it would have been fun if Sinar had come along. She enjoyed jokes too, after all.
Meanwhile, Aisia took charge of the city's security. Since there were no raiding parties, she essentially had nothing to do.
After her excursion, Oara did not leave her house for two days. The reason was unknown. In the meantime, Encrid sparred with a few of the soldiers.
It was evening after spending several days like that. The sun was setting, hanging on the edge of the sky. It was that twilight hour when standing in the dim light made it impossible to distinguish a dog from a wolf.
Chirrrp.
Insects chirped in the grass. Over the campfire Dunchabel had built, chunks of meat skewered on sticks were sizzling. Rem sprinkled salt and spices over them, while Luagarne chewed on bugs, her cheeks puffing with a happy gurgle.
Oara visited again at that moment. They sparred once more, and at the end of it, she said, "Now this is quite novel."
"Is it?"
"You're stubborn, aren't you?"
"I'm just strong-willed."
"Stubborn, indeed," Rem chimed in with a chuckle. "You've got a good eye for people."
"I agree," Luagarne added.
Dunchabel also opened her mouth to speak, but catching Encrid's glare, she chewed on her meat instead. Chomp, chomp. She certainly had a healthy appetite.
Encrid didn't bother making excuses. He wasn't stubborn; he was just firm in his convictions. It wasn't something that required validation from others.
"Looking at your eyes, I can tell for sure. You've got a touch of madness."
Oara casually said something that would have gotten anyone else beaten to a pulp if they weren't a knight. Rem was now thoroughly amused, bursting into loud laughter. "Bwahaha! A perfect match!"
Encrid would have to ask later what made Rem so excited. It wasn't something the craziest bastard in the unit should be saying.
"I've never met anyone like you. You're interesting."
Oara turned back after receiving a chunk of meat. She even gave a thumbs-up, complimenting the roast.
All of this conversation took place after facing Oara's sword against the backdrop of the sunset. In other words, the sparring session was over, and Encrid was still sprawled on the ground.
I think it wasn't bad.
"It wasn't bad," Luagarne said. The Frok puffed her cheeks slightly before continuing. He assumed the puffing of her cheeks was an expression of joy. "To be honest, I was surprised."
"If you get surprised by that, there'll be no end to it. Back when I was teaching him, I used to get surprised a dozen times a day," Rem said, having finally stopped laughing, his tone now calm.
"What was so surprising?" Encrid asked. It was a question born of pure curiosity.
"Because a crazy guy only chooses to do crazy things," Rem replied, looking up at the stars like some wise sage. At that moment, he truly looked like someone who had attained enlightenment.
Of course, it was utter bullshit.
Encrid had been reluctant to follow Oara's advice to discard things because they were too complex and cluttered. Did he have to abandon his life—the very things that had protected him—just to move forward?
He asked himself, and answered himself in turn.
I don't want to.
So, instead of discarding them, he embraced them. To be precise, he merged them. He remembered doing it once before, and since he had already used them that way naturally a few times, it wasn't difficult.
It started with what he had learned from Sachsen.
Whether it's the Sense of Evasion, the domain of the Sixth Sense, or the Sense of Attack.
They were all focused on perception. Sachsen had called it Sensory Technique. Had Sachsen used them all separately? No. He had been natural. If so, couldn't Encrid do the same?
He had simply changed his perspective. And he had made it a reality.
Anyone who looked at Encrid would call his talent mediocre, and he didn't even have the repetition of today to rely on, but he did it. He pulled it off. Encrid couldn't help but feel proud of that.
Though it was a pity it hadn't worked on Oara right away.
"It's only because it hasn't been refined yet," Rem offered. He spoke as he finished his meat and pulled out his axe and whetstone once more.
"You're going to wear that axe blade down to nothing."
"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing. Who do you take me for, some brainless idiot with no sense of direction?"
Lately, the one Rem harbored the most hostility toward was Ragna. It was likely because Ragna had teased him about rising above a knight. As if to show he hadn't been under Encrid for nothing, Ragna teased Rem in all sorts of ways.
"Barbarian, not like that. That is not how you eat. Eating like that won't improve your skills. Hold your fork properly."
Since it was like this even during meals, it went without saying.
"When attacking, strike like a tempest; when defending, stand firm like a solid mountain."
Oara gave him a few more lessons after that. Then, on another afternoon, she asked, "You're going to become a knight?"
"Yes," Encrid replied, letting his sword hang low.
He couldn't put any strength into his left arm. It was because of the attack imbued with Will that Oara called a 'grip.' If the Mercenary King's Bull stance loaded weight onto the sword, Oara's sword made his arm muscles tingle with numbness at the slightest graze.
Of course, this too would return to normal after a short while. The Will of Rejection activated, gradually pushing out the Will Oara had injected.
Seeing this, Oara was slightly surprised. You're doing something quite fascinating, aren't you? her eyes seemed to say.
And then she had asked her current question: whether he was going to become a knight.
"Not a single shred of doubt. Good. I like your face, and I like your attitude. Shall I give you a piece of advice, then?"
"I would be grateful to hear it."
His words were calm, but his eyes shone. Oara took a great liking to those blue eyes. Otherwise, she would have had no reason to spend her time sparring with him.
Was it because she liked him as a man? She did like his face, but more than that, he was the kind of guy whose actions made one's heart burn with passion.
"If you want to become a knight, first define the boundaries of what you will protect."
Oara spoke with her back to the sun. Shadows fell across her face, yet the smile playing on her lips remained vividly clear.
Was it a beautiful face? Were her features distinct? Was her jawline elegant? If it were purely about looks, Sinar, with her otherworldly beauty, would be superior. Esther, who exuded a mysterious aura, would be even more outstanding. In terms of human beauty, that woman from House Vaisar was also magnificent.
Was her name Kin? She was a woman who would probably fly into a fit of rage if she knew Encrid had forgotten her name yet again.
She was brimming with vitality. Speaking of vitality, Dunchabel was also quite lively—quite apart from the musty smell she had from not washing. There was also Teresa, who gave off a reliable and stable impression.
Even so, Oara was different from them all. Perhaps it was only natural, as what she was showing now was not romantic attraction.
"I'd like to be arrogant, but I draw the line right here. The things I protect—this city, the people standing behind me. That's it. That is my boundary."
A knight establishes their conviction through Will. That conviction becomes the knight's constraint and vow.
"As long as I protect it, this city will not fall. Nor will I allow the Demon Realm to draw near."
The Smiling Oara. That was her moniker as a knight. It was an unusual moniker. Aisia had explained to him why she had been given such a name: because Oara was someone who never lost her smile, no matter the moment.
Oara hadn't posed a question, but Encrid already had an answer within him. And so, he answered.
How far did the boundaries of what he must protect extend?
"Everything that catches my eye and weighs on my mind."
"Huh?"
With her back to the sun, catching the rain that had suddenly begun to patter down, Oara blinked. Her smile seemed to fade slightly. Then, she grinned widely once more and said, "You really are a crazy bastard."
"Am I?"
"It's far too arrogant. But well, you do as you please."
He had intended to do so anyway.
"The request is complete, so you may return, Encrid of the Border Guard."
"Right now, this place weighs on my mind, so I will stay a bit longer."
"I suppose I can't stop you from doing that."
Oara vanished in a flash. Encrid watched the falling rain cool the earth before gathering his gear and heading inside. He saw Rem, who was still sharpening his axe blade.
The next day, a familiar face among the soldiers sought Encrid out.
"I'm Milio. In case you forgot."
He was a soldier with a solid, rather than sharp, impression. He was the one who had shown him around the city after Aisia, and the one who had asked to be taught.
"I've been busy because I didn't have any days off. Please, spar with me."
Encrid did just that. He beat Milio to a pulp.
He came back the next day, and the day after that. The rain fell continuously for two days, and even though Milio rolled around on the ground as if stuck in a quagmire, his face covered in mud, he remained diligent.
Encrid felt as though the surrounding air had somehow grown gloomy.
It was dawn on the day the rain stopped. Milio came to find him early.
"I have duty during the day. That's why I came at this hour."
Milio wasn't the only one who had sought Encrid out during this time. There were quite a few other soldiers. Every single one of them was highly skilled. Seeing them, he had realized something.
Is this an excess of military force?
There was a knight stationed here, along with two Associate Knights and four Squires. Aside from Oliver, there were three other squires. This was even excluding his own party and Aisia. Every single one of them possessed skills close to the level of an Associate Knight.
On top of that, the caliber of the soldiers was high. They were strong soldiers forged through repeated real combat, not falling behind the Border Guard in the slightest. While the Border Guard primarily fought against Azpen, this place's purpose was to hold back the Demon Realm. Other than that difference, they were elite troops tempered by actual battle.
However, their numbers were not large. Was it normal to block the encroachment of the Demon Realm with this few? Of course not. The presence of a knight must have made it possible. The quality of the soldiers would have compensated for the rest.
Therefore, it wasn't that forces were excessively concentrated here, but rather that this place was just that dangerous. That was why he didn't want to leave.
To add to this, every single soldier harbored a purpose in their heart. Duty, responsibility, mission. Among them, the soldier named Milio was even more special.
"What is your goal?"
At Encrid's question, Milio blushed slightly, uncharacteristically, and scratched his cheek as he replied.
"I want to take Sir Oara as my wife."
This bastard had quite the ambitious dream.
As it turned out, he was twenty-five this year—though his face made him look thirty-five—but in any case, this relatively young fellow was setting his sights on a knight who was at least ten years older than him.
But because it was an ambitious dream, Encrid supported it. He himself was moving forward while dreaming an impossible dream. There was no reason Milio couldn't do the same.
"Keep at it."
"I am."
It was two days after Encrid cheered on Milio's dream.