Chapter 455: Selling Trust, Buying Action
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 455: Selling Trust, Buying Action
A knight's strike.
That was the only thing Encrid desired.
What did he have to do to achieve it? Because he couldn't grasp the answer himself, he asked.
"Moving Will? I mean, don't you just... do it?"
That was Rem's answer. Encrid realized once again that this crazy bastard, who made a hobby of decapitating nobles, was a natural-born genius.
"So, Will can be used in that way."
Luagarne, taking on the role of a scholar, began her research. From then on, her insights were a massive help.
"How about breaking it down piece by piece?"
Breaking down the movements. Infusing Will into every motion, from the moment the sword was drawn to the final thrust. It meant starting differently right from the preparation phase.
Encrid refined his questions as he listened to their answers. He also questioned Roman repeatedly. One day, while staying by Oara's side, he asked her as well.
"It just happens. How am I supposed to explain that?"
Oara's answer was no different from Rem's. Ragna would likely say the same, as would Audin. Would Sachsen be any different?
"You just do it like this," Ragna would say, swinging his sword.
"If you pray, everything works out," Audin would claim.
"You just have to feel it with your senses," Sachsen would probably mutter.
Encrid felt as if he were hearing the collective advice of those far away in the Border Guard.
Prayer might not be the answer, but meditation could be. Swinging mindlessly wouldn't work, but he must never lose his sense of naturalness. Would sharp senses allow him to feel Will? Not necessarily, but they would let him know exactly how his movements differed from his usual form.
When the student surpassed the teachers, such a thing became possible. For the first time in his life, Encrid reached a stage where he could understand two things from hearing only one.
If they knew where he had started, everyone would be shocked—but for now, no one could know. Even Rem, watching from the sidelines, found it difficult to notice the change.
High Horizontal Slash, Side Strike, Overhead Slash, Counter-strike, Half-Sword Fighting, Parry, Deflection, Consecutive Strikes, Closing In, Press-and-Slice.
After reflecting on every technique he possessed, he pulled one out.
Thrust.
He decided to follow his heart.
Encrid focused entirely on the motion of the thrust. He raised Spark and drove it forward. Within that single motion lay the realization gained from repeating the first "today," as well as the realization of Moment's Will.
Should I divide it?
No. He had to combine them.
The tip of the foot.
Stepping forward and thrusting the sword—that was all there was to it. What was needed to make it so the enemy wouldn't even dare to block?
Speed and power.
An area impossible to reach through mere imitation. It was a total focus on Kwae—speed—from the principles of Jeong-Jung-Hwan-Kwae-Yu.
He repeated it. Time flowed. He spent "today," and then spent it again. The hourglass that flowed only for Encrid dropped its grains.
It was time that would normally eat away at a man's mind and leave him a ruin. Time that should have been spent crying out in despair and frustration. Time that should have been spent agonizing over why such hardships were forced upon him. Time that should have been spent resenting the gods and the parents whose faces he didn't even know.
He poured all of that time into training. He did so while listening to Oara's screams.
"You enjoy their deaths," the Ferryman sneered.
He ignored it.
A soldier dies. Milio dies. Rowena dies.
"Is it fun?" the Ferryman asked.
Instead of answering, he thought only of the sword.
"You cannot overcome this wall," the Ferryman asserted.
It went beyond letting it go in one ear and out the other; he didn't hear it at all.
"You will beat the ground in regret. There are some things that never change."
The light-toned Ferryman even managed to sound worried toward the end. Encrid let that pass as well.
You have too many miscellaneous techniques.
Hearing Oara's advice to discard them, he combined them instead. Encrid's body naturally fused everything into one.
Was this the path to becoming a knight? Or was it a wrong turn? Was it just a desperate struggle? A waste of time?
Doubt could have easily crept in, but Encrid simply took another stubborn step forward. And so, he walked until he arrived at today's "today."
Kee-aaaaah!
Woken by the scream, Encrid didn't even wipe the sleep from his eyes before telling Rem to follow him. He stepped out, sword in hand.
"Block this."
He spoke abruptly and thrust. Rem, who had followed, moved his axe reflexively. Rem saw the point arriving faster than sound and barely managed to intercept it.
Clang!
The sword's tip struck the flat of the axe and bounced off.
"Damn it, were you trying to put a hole in my axe?"
If he had used his full strength, a hole might indeed have been made. Encrid clenched and unclenched his hand a few times. Was this something he couldn't do twice? Even though his body had been tempered through the Isolation Technique, a single thrust left his ankles, waist, and shoulders throbbing.
His muscles screamed. It didn't matter.
"Let's go."
Encrid headed toward the battlefield. In his mind, he replayed this single "today" countless times.
This was the beginning.
"Dunchabel."
The beastman, looking unusually anxious, approached at Encrid's call. Her unwashed, grimy face and sour smell stung his nose. Encrid spoke to her in a whisper.
"Did I ever tell you?"
"...What?"
Dunchabel showed wariness at his sudden friendliness. Her beastman instincts told her: This bastard is up to something.
"Actually, I trust you."
"..."
Dunchabel blinked at the sudden nonsense.
"You're the prettiest beastman I've ever seen."
The number of female beastmen Encrid had seen in his life could be counted on one hand. Without a doubt, Dunchabel was the first one he had ever looked at closely. Regardless, it was completely out of the blue.
"All of a sudden?"
"You're strong."
"Rem, I think this guy is sick."
"I've always thought your potential is greater than mine."
This was the truth. Encrid knew all too well that his own talent was meager.
"He doesn't have a fever, though." Dunchabel's hand brushed Encrid's forehead.
"So, you can run away."
There was a continental proverb that said praise could make even a dragonkin dance. Even the self-centered dragonkin would find kind words pleasing to the ear. Encrid did not want Dunchabel to become a cat soaking in fear and pissing itself.
"It's fine to run away, but until then, fight. Just do what you can."
Dunchabel stopped in her tracks. Did this man know something?
Because she wanted to live—because she wanted nothing but to survive—Dunchabel had been in agony. Is just surviving enough?
Beastmen naturally possessed strong survival instincts, but Dunchabel was even more extreme than the average. She would do anything to survive. At the same time, she instinctively knew that simply surviving would make her nothing.
Other than surviving, what do I want to become?
At Encrid's words, Dunchabel's feet stopped. While everyone else moved forward, she alone was lost in thought. It wasn't for long. Before the others could even take three steps, in the span of a few deep breaths, Dunchabel stood still and searched herself.
Why am I here?
She threw the stone of a question into the lake of her soul. Ripples formed and spread. Before they could even settle, the answer surfaced. It was a realization.
Proof.
Dunchabel wanted to prove that she wasn't wrong, that she wasn't a failure born of beastmen, and that she had lived properly even without her parents' love. She wanted to prove her existence.
Because she had lived denying herself, she envied Encrid, who moved straight forward. But had that man walked his path easily?
"Ah."
With a short exclamation, Dunchabel took another step. She had decided what to do. The fear that had enveloped her moments ago faded slightly. A single catalyst couldn't overcome everything, but just as there are those who move forward when they see a signpost, Dunchabel could now see her path.
* * *
"Rowena is..."
"If you're going to rescue her, follow me."
Encrid cut through the commotion in front of the castle gate.
"...What?"
Rowena's boyfriend looked at Encrid. His mind had briefly stalled at the sudden words. But soon, the soldier, grasping the meaning, took a step forward.
"Are you coming with me?"
"Your name?"
Encrid hadn't even known this soldier's name until now.
"It's Admor."
"Right. Let's go."
Encrid had to make his intentions work on this side. It was similar to when he had persuaded Andrew in the Tall Grass Field during his days as a squad leader. Back then, he had started by showing his skills, but now, there was no need for that.
"Aisia!"
At his shout, Aisia popped out from the side, wearing her armor and cloak. He had heard that the cloaks of the order were fire-resistant and enchanted to maintain body temperature. Moreover, a cloak that easily deflected simple spells was the symbol of the order. It wasn't a cumbersome outfit; she wore it because it was efficient.
"What?"
"Did I ever tell you?"
As he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, he felt the soldiers' gazes gather on him. Not only them, but Oara and the group of Associate Knights and squires at the front were also listening.
"...What?"
Aisia wondered what was wrong with him. This man, who occasionally did crazy things, was now creating a strange atmosphere and drawing everyone's attention. Encrid was quick-witted enough to notice Aisia's reaction, but he ignored it. There was no time to explain.
"That I was once a highly successful monster hunter."
He had never been. He had been a monster hunter, but never a successful one.
"Were you?"
"I have a feeling."
"What kind of feeling?"
"There's something like a coiled serpent deep inside."
Aisia turned her gaze at Encrid's words. It was true that this was a Demon Realm where ominous sensations pricked the skin, but she couldn't feel anything specific.
"What are you talking about?" Oara asked from atop the castle wall.
"The air has changed. The beastman under my command even smelled it. She says there's a scent of conspiracy coming not just from the Screaming Spiders, but from deep within the Demon Realm."
"Me?" Dunchabel pointed to herself.
Rem subtly stepped in front of Dunchabel to block her from view and whispered, "Shut up and just watch."
It seemed his captain was plotting something. Though he didn't know what it was, he knew it would be interesting. He wasn't someone who did crazy things without thinking. Rem had faith in him.
"Rem, Dunchabel. Come back quickly," Encrid said, looking at Rem.
"Where am I going?"
"Over there."
Encrid pointed deep into the darkness. Meanwhile, Admor, who had come out to rescue Rowena, was fidgeting and reading the room.
"Deep into the Demon Realm?"
"Are you scared?"
"Are you calling that a provocation?"
"No, I'm just asking."
"Damn it, I don't know what's going on, but fine. I'll go."
"Finish it quickly and come back," Encrid said.
Rem could have asked for clarification. He could have pointed out that they didn't even know what was there. It was a frustratingly vague order. But Encrid didn't prepare an answer, and he didn't need to pretend to be a prophet.
"Let's do that," Rem nodded.
Encrid told Admor to follow Rem.
"Look for traces. You'll be able to save what you want to save."
Having no other choice, Admor quickly followed behind Rem. Rem's departing back caught Encrid's gaze. In the old days, when he wandered the continent, no one would have listened to him. During his days in the Troublemaker Squad, he would have used force. It made him think of Andrew for no reason—there had been times when he had to beat them into submission.
What about now? He only had to sell trust to buy action. Through several "todays," Encrid knew Rem would react this way.
"Now, let's go. Aisia."
"Where am I going?" Aisia, standing beside him, was utterly dumbfounded.
"You have to fight while commanding the squires," Encrid said firmly.
"Now? Me? Out there?"
"Aisia of the Red Cloak Knights, are you saying you want to just watch from behind even after seeing Thousand Bricks in danger? Do you still call yourself a Red Cloak after that?"
At the sudden scolding, Aisia glared at him with fire in her eyes. "Are you picking a fight?"
"It's encouragement."
Regardless, she moved forward. Aisia had received too much from this man to refuse him. He was the one who had enabled her to wear the red cloak in the first place. She felt she owed him a debt from the civil war—a very large debt. There was no reason not to listen.
After killing six spider monsters rampaging in front of four squires, Encrid raised his foot and slammed it onto the ground. At the heavy stomp that echoed with a dull thud, everyone's eyes, including Roman's, gathered on him. Oara also looked down from the wall.
"No one is better at hunting monsters than me. From now on, I command the front line."
"...Was the alcohol we drank earlier spoiled?" Roman muttered.
Encrid ignored him. He had bought action with trust, but now it was time to buy trust with action.
"Burrowing spiders. The ground."
The repeated "today" allowed him to monopolize information. By acting within a predictable range, he knew the enemy's attack sequence.
Rumble.
The dirt ground shook. Soon, with a thud, a spider revealed its head.
"Oliver, strike."
It didn't matter whose command it was. Oliver reflexively brought down his mace.
Crack!
The spider's head burst, spraying black fluid.
"Roman, under your feet."
No sooner had Encrid finished speaking than dust began to rise from beneath Roman's feet. They were not the type to be caught off guard, whether something popped out from the sky or the ground. Smashing the head of a spider that blankly poked its face out when they already knew it was coming was child's play.
Crunch.
Roman's club-like greatsword plunged vertically, crushing the spider's head. Just like that, the spiders poked their heads out exactly where Encrid predicted. As the monsters in formation pushed in, the rear castle gate began to open.
"Close the gate! The men blocking the front right now will hold off the remaining monsters. Archers, aim only beyond our heads!"
Encrid spoke quietly at first, then roared at the end. It was an uncharacteristic, fiery display. Atop the wall, Oara nodded with an intrigued look in her eyes.
One could tell just by looking. Those were words and gestures filled with absolute certainty. She would see what he was trying to do, and if things went south, she could simply step in. Furthermore, she didn't think his current judgment was bad at all.
Encrid moved exactly as intended.
Selling trust to buy action. Buying trust with action.
What was next? Now, it was time to fight to the death.