Chapter 504: Is That All?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 504: Is That All?
Ragna had arrived after days of wandering the roads, unwashed and unfed, yet even after exhausting his every resource, Encrid could not strike him down.
The indifferent sluggard’s blade had grown heavier and swifter than ever before.
Watching that massive greatsword move with the fluidity of a bending willow, Encrid didn't even dare to attempt a direct block. Nevertheless, he managed to parry, deflect, and stall Ragna’s sword nine times.
In the brief openings between those exchanges, he even managed to slip in a thrust worthy of being called a true knight’s strike.
Ragna avoided it with a simple, effortless twist of his body.
From the sequence of movements Ragna displayed, Encrid recalled one of the conditions of a knight that Luagarne had once mentioned.
‘Time.’
Did she say they possessed a different flow of time?
In the time it took Encrid to swing his sword once, Ragna could twist his body and extend his own blade. It was a rhythm and timing made possible only because his reflexes, athletic prowess, and raw physical strength had long since surpassed human limits.
Nor was he lacking in technical mastery. He was a true knight, incomparable to the hollow shells known as chimera knights.
How can a single knight slay a thousand men? The answer lay here.
"If one can thrust ten times in the time it takes a soldier to thrust a spear once, then it is entirely possible."
Luagarne had said as much, and Encrid was now experiencing that reality firsthand once again.
In truth, merely being able to perceive this difference was a remarkable feat. It was only possible thanks to The Eye that Sees an Inch Ahead, also known as Foresight.
However, Encrid was neither satisfied nor content with his current level. The flame of desire—the urge to reach even greater heights—still burned fiercely within his blue eyes.
Ragna, too, was pleased to see those crazed eyes again after so long. This held true even though he hadn't eaten a proper meal or slept more than a few hours in days.
"Is that all?"
Ragna paid back the words he had received earlier. He looked down at the fallen Encrid and tossed out that single phrase. Encrid didn't get angry; he simply smirked.
It seemed his squad members' sharp tongues grew in direct proportion to their skills.
"Cutting in line? Of course I'm first! Huh? What? Haaah?!"
Rem had thrown a fit because Encrid fought Ragna first. When Encrid had stepped forward to claim the first bout, stopping Rem from suddenly hurling his axe, that was how the man had reacted.
Still, Rem didn't interrupt the duel or attempt a cowardly strike from behind. His pride wouldn't allow such a thing.
Ragna stared blankly at his returned captain. Through that single spar, he realized that Encrid had finally crossed a certain wall and reached a new level.
Within Ragna, standards like Associate Knight, Knight, or Squire did not exist. Why? There was no reason. He simply didn't care. In reality, his own genius prevented him from setting such benchmarks.
To set a standard was to trap oneself in a mold.
If you are trapped in a mold, you unconsciously fight according to its shape. But in a fight—in true battle—you never know what might happen. If one let their guard down, even an awl held by a child could pierce the heart.
Of course, if it were Ragna himself, it wouldn't matter if the child in his arms turned out to be an assassin. He would react the very moment he felt the cold touch of the metal against his skin.
Once you became a knight, such things were possible.
Yet, it seemed Encrid might be capable of something similar now. Even if his skin was grazed, he would dodge what needed to be dodged. Compared to before, it was an unbelievable improvement.
At the same time, deficiencies were still visible. His reaction speed, the speed of his visual judgment, and the raw limits of his physical ability were still lacking.
It was because he couldn't handle Will properly. Ragna realized this instinctively. Even so, he said nothing. Offering words of help might instead create a mold and trap him. So, he only watched and offered no advice.
Sachsen, who was watching from the sidelines, was equally surprised. The momentum the captain displayed while facing Ragna was exceptionally prominent.
‘It was Intimidation.’
It was the natural sense of pressure emanating from the level of a knight. The directionally challenged bastard had released his momentum, naturally attempting to crush the captain's mind and will. But instead of struggling to shake it off, the captain had raised his own momentum and easily brushed it aside.
He hadn't escaped by using the Will of Rejection; he had dispersed it with his own natural presence.
Sachsen felt it anew: the captain of the past was no more.
"You bastard!"
Unable to hold back any longer, Rem lunged at Ragna, who hadn't even had a chance to rest.
The fight between the two was fierce yet anticlimactic, like two parallel lines that would never meet. Encrid watched their sword and axe clash at a speed that surpassed his kinetic vision. Sparks flew from the steel, and heat began to radiate from the friction of their blows.
Yet, neither of them was fighting seriously.
Meanwhile, a few raindrops began to patter down, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.
"I let you off easy, you lazy, directionally challenged bastard."
"You've somehow managed to learn how to struggle, at least."
The two continued to growl at each other, but they lowered their weapons. It was pouring, after all.
"Let's wash up," Encrid said.
With Krais joining in, they all headed toward the bathhouse.
The place was exactly as it used to be—from the steam so thick it was hard to see a foot ahead, to the boisterous nature of the middle-aged woman in charge.
"Come on in!"
Even her greeting felt like a knight's sword strike. Approaching them with cool, unhesitating strides, she pointed toward the tubs for the mud-covered men.
"Hurry up, strip naked, and get in! Let me have a good look for once in a long time!"
Though she spoke that way, she likely had no real interest in the bodies of soldiers.
Encrid, Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, Audin, and Krais all stripped down. Luagarne and Teresa excused themselves.
They thought everything was the same, but there were changes. The most prominent was the large stone tub. A massive, flat stone had been brought in, hollowed out, and polished clean so they could all soak together.
It must have required a master stonemason.
"It's a gift from Castellan Graham," Krais explained as they all climbed in.
The bath, heated to a perfect temperature, made their weary bodies feel languid. Bathing culture had spread from the Empire to the entire continent, including Naurilia. Although it was a culture that didn't exist in the West, Rem liked it quite a bit. It was enough to soothe even his prickly mind.
"I let you off easy, you directionally challenged bastard."
"Before you go to sleep today, pray to any god and thank them. You were lucky to survive."
"Haha, brothers. Do not fight. God is always watching over the two of you."
"Idiots."
As they spoke one by one, from Rem to Sachsen, it felt as if the temperature of the bath rose even higher. Encrid knew that none of their words were entirely serious. Half of it was a joke—their own way of expressing a welcome.
Encrid decided to think of it that way.
Still, they were getting along significantly better than when they first met. Back then, they did more than just glare; it felt as if a corpse would appear at any moment.
Rem had a somewhat satisfied look on his face. Was it because he had avoided a beating? Perhaps. Or maybe he just liked the water.
"By the way, where did the beastman sister go?" Audin asked.
Looking at Audin across from him, Encrid thought it had taken him long enough to ask.
"She said she's going to the East."
"I see."
That was it. Audin simply let it go, assuming Dunchabel had her reasons.
Learning to respect someone's judgment—it was an attitude they originally lacked, but not anymore. Because Encrid had always treated them that way and they had accepted it, they had grown.
Apart from his talent with the sword, Encrid was a man of a different caliber. There was much to see and learn from him. They all thought so, though it was absolutely not something they would ever say out loud.
"I heard you even gave gifts to Captain Sinar and Esther. Is there nothing for us?" Krais asked, submerged up to his neck.
They weren't exactly gifts, but Encrid did have things to give.
"I left them in my backpack in the barracks. I forgot."
If they had all been gathered when he arrived, he would have given them then, but everyone had been away. Encrid didn't realize it, but that was only natural. A group without a focal point was bound to scatter. Encrid was the thread that strung the beads together. Without the thread, the beads had spilled and scattered.
Only Krais felt that atmosphere.
‘Still, I suppose this is better than fighting like crazy like in the old days.’
Even though they had scattered, the beads still lingered nearby of their own volition. Krais recalled a celestial body he had read about in a book from an astronomer long ago. Did he say that the center of the world was not this earth, but the sun?
He hadn't understood most of what the astronomer said, but he remembered one thing.
‘Stars revolving around the sun.’
Although it was persecuted in some regions as a false theory, in Krais's eyes, they looked exactly like that now. Like the sun and the stars.
*
After fighting and washing, they returned to their quarters. Ragna devoured a meal of bread stuffed with ham and vegetables. It was a special sandwich that was selling like hotcakes in the city lately, filled with thinly sliced yellow sweet pumpkin from Vanessa's Pumpkin Soup Inn.
Vanessa certainly had a talent for cooking and business. Speaking of cooking, Juol of the West came to mind. Encrid thought that if he and Vanessa were together, they might be of great help to each other.
Entertaining such trivial thoughts, Encrid rummaged through his backpack and pulled out several items.
"I picked this up on the way."
First was a Carmen Collection. It was a dagger kept in a jewel-encrusted sheath, reflecting the gaudy taste of its former owner. With a quick toss, Sachsen snatched the hilt.
Shring.
As soon as Sachsen caught it, he drew the blade slightly. A sound rang out, but the blade was invisible. It was transparent. For once, Sachsen's eyes widened.
"A Carmen Collection?" he muttered, touching the transparent blade with his fingertips. The sensation was distinct. Though invisible to the eye, the sharpness and the shape of the blade were captured by his senses.
"Were treasures just lying around on your way back? For you to just 'pick up' something like that?" Krais asked, blinking.
"That's not entirely wrong."
Beside him, Luagarne nodded and added a brief explanation. As Krais listened, he learned that a deserter had been holding it, and they had taken it from him. Was it just luck? Perhaps.
"This seems to be yours."
Sachsen must have been in an exceptionally good mood, as he tossed the jewel-encrusted sheath over to Krais. Krais caught it and quickly appraised it.
‘It's not top-tier, but it's not bad.’
Although each individual gem wasn't priceless, this was better than some damaged relic from a half-baked dungeon. It would be highly liquid—easy to sell. Since it was extra profit, it was a good haul.
"I'll make good use of it," Sachsen said, giving Encrid a slight nod. He seemed to be in a truly great mood. "There have been several assassination attempts lately. A few on the Castellan, and a few on Big-Eyes."
At Sachsen's casual remark, Krais blinked his large eyes. "When? I had no idea."
There was no way he would know. While Encrid was away, Sachsen had purged those who wouldn't listen and persuaded the rest with fists and daggers, reshaping the Dagger of Geor to his liking. Although it wasn't a perfect transformation, it was enough to establish a foothold in the city.
Thus, the capable men under Sachsen's command nested throughout the city, serving as a filter to catch every assassin entering the gates. Of course, some might luckily slip through, but none of the ones who had come so far were capable of that. In Sachsen's eyes, they were merely riffraff working for a few gold coins.
Krais reached a conclusion. Come to think of it, there were no targets easier to aim for than himself and Graham. People who would target them? There were plenty. Those driven mad by jealousy, the Azpen bastards who wished for the Border Guard to collapse, or noble bastards looking for a fight.
"Ha, that's really too much," Krais spoke grumpily. If they poisoned his food, wouldn't he be gone in an instant? Of course, fearing just that, he always carried a long silver needle and used silver tableware.
Next, Encrid pulled out the contaminated holy relic. Audin recognized it at a glance.
"O profane one, you shall be held accountable for your sins. Father, do not forgive them."
Though he was muttering to himself, Audin spoke in a loud, booming voice as he strode forward and reached out toward the relic.
Encrid had intended to ask him to find a priest to handle this, but Audin was already there.
"It is an object that must be touched in the name of God. Please hand it over."
Audin showed his large palm. Since he spoke with such conviction, Encrid handed over the cup without a word. It emitted a peculiar, foul smell, but no one present was enticed by it.
"True silver?" Krais asked.
"Correct, big-eyed brother," Audin replied, placing the cup into a small pouch and tying it to his waist.
The Demon Realm Holy Land Cult had once stolen the holy relics of God indiscriminately. Throwing away their lives like straw, they had eventually stolen several. Those stolen relics caused incidents everywhere—in some regions, the undead rose endlessly, eventually requiring the summoning of the Crusader Order.
The object Audin had just tucked away was one such item. Purifying a holy relic held immense significance for him. If Sachsen had obtained a weapon, Audin felt as though he had recovered a piece of his soul.
As Audin offered a prayer in the corner, Teresa joined him. Having converted to the God of War, she knew just as well as Audin how important this was. What could be more important than restoring an object imbued with God's power?
As the two stepped aside, a snorting sound came from outside the barracks. It was Odd-Eye. Encrid pulled out the Lucky Fish he had brought all this way. When he tossed it to Odd-Eye, the horse stretched his neck, caught it in his mouth, and chewed.
After a few bites, the horse stared blankly at Encrid and nodded. He seemed to like it.
His backpack was finally empty. As Encrid dusted off his hands, Ragna, who had finished his second sandwich, looked up.
"Is that all?"