Chapter 509: Y...
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 509: Y...
"It is a false path. In the end, this is where you will stop."
The Ferryman spoke.
Same as always, Encrid thought as he looked at him.
The Ferryman had gray, cracked skin, eyes without pupils, and a mouth that resembled the darkness of the abyss. Every time he spoke, it felt as if that darkness leaked out, whispering of despair, urging him to lose hope, and pestering him to give up.
He wasn't a child, so why was he whining so much? Even a four-year-old wouldn't pester someone this incessantly.
"You are harboring disrespectful thoughts."
The Ferryman was as quick-witted as Rem. Encrid was the same whether he was inside or outside his dreams.
"No, I'm not," he denied shamelessly.
"...To think that the place you struggled so hard to reach is a wall you built yourself. How ironic."
Whining again.
"You harbor disrespectful thoughts once more."
"No, I don't."
Would his essence change just because he was in a dream? Not at all. Encrid’s stubbornness was on full display.
The Ferryman almost lost his temper at the shameless reply, but his long years of self-discipline were not so shallow as to be shaken by this level of provocation. He held it in.
"Watch yourself."
"Yes."
Why did he answer so readily and obediently? It only made him look more obnoxious.
The Ferryman missed his body. He deeply yearned for the days when he had possessed a physical form. If only he had hands and feet right now, or even a tool to do something physical to the boy.
"How does it feel to face an insurmountable wall? Especially one that you built yourself."
Instead of answering, Encrid tilted his head. Only a single 'today' had passed. Surely it wasn't time to discuss his feelings yet? At least, that was what he thought.
"Impudence!"
"Yes."
"Watch it!"
"Yes."
"Just don't answer."
"Y..."
Encrid opened his mouth halfway, then closed it.
"Go."
"..."
"Get lost."
"..."
Encrid pinched his right thumb and index finger together, miming the action of sewing his lips shut, and nodded. It was a devout attitude, showing respect for the Ferryman's wishes by remaining silent as commanded.
With that, Encrid drifted away from the dream.
On the rippling river, the purple-glowing lamp on the ferryboat swayed. It was because the Ferryman's arm was trembling.
"To think my heart could be shaken by this much," the Ferryman muttered in an emotionless tone.
Left alone on the ferryboat once more, he stared at the spot where Encrid had just been. In the end, it was bound to finish someday. No one could endure facing a repeating 'today' forever. Encrid, too, would meet his end by remaining upon the river. The Ferryman knew this.
Even so, what was fascinating was fascinating. What was amusing was amusing.
Some 'todays' were days the Ferryman already knew, but other 'todays' could not be seen even within his foresight. It wasn't that a foreseen 'today' had changed; rather, a 'today' that had never existed in the first place had been created.
And that was precisely what was happening now.
The Ferryman had guarded the ferryboat for a long time. He looked back on those years. Had there ever been a case like this? Never.
That was why it was fascinating. That was why a long-forgotten excitement was stirring. Obnoxious as the boy was, a part of the Ferryman also sympathized with the source of the curse.
The Ferryman found even that fascinating. Having his mind split in multiple directions was something he had never experienced since becoming the Ferryman.
There was a part of him that sympathized, a part of him that found him obnoxious, a part of him that hindered him, and amidst all that, a tiny fraction of him that wondered what would happen if that fellow actually managed to escape 'today' every single time.
It was a meaningless question. No matter what happened, the end was predetermined. The Ferryman knew this from experience.
And yet, what if...
What if he pushes forward, defying all causality?
He doubted such a thing was possible through a single human's will. But if by some miracle it did happen, what then? The Ferryman pondered.
*
Failure.
Encrid had failed, but he didn't dwell on the cause. He hadn't expected to succeed on the first try anyway. Instead, he tried to loosen his tension, relaxing the nerves that had tightened without him realizing.
That was why he had begun keeping his Will constantly active during sunset, his favorite time of day. It was one of his ways of relaxing.
Encrid took a deep breath, continuing the train of thought he had started earlier. He woke up, warmed up his body with the Isolation Technique, stuffed himself just as monstrously as before, relieved himself, rested, and waited for the sunset.
It was a contemplation on those known as knights.
How to slay a thousand men.
How was such a thing possible? He thought of the individual methods shown by those who had become knights.
Encrid still ate well. He stuffed his stomach monstrously. He needed to be thoroughly prepared for anything, and eating whenever he could was an old habit of his.
"Did you eat something bad?"
He ignored Rem's trivial remark in the dining hall.
"Eating well is also a part of training."
He also ignored Audin's comment.
"How about a sword fight?"
Ragna also spoke to him on the way out of the dining hall. Did he look more anxious 'today' than 'yesterday'? Perhaps he did. Since the very first thought he had upon repeating this new 'today' was to relax, he must have instinctively tensed his muscles, and his nerves must have been on edge. It was a fact he recognized.
A brief impatience, unlike anything before, had flared up. At times like this, swinging a sword and breaking a sweat was the easiest way to clear his mind, but Encrid shook it all off.
"Let's do it tomorrow."
Though he didn't know when that 'tomorrow' would come, he postponed the sparring.
"Are you hurt somewhere?" Luagarne asked.
"I'm not hurt," Encrid replied with a smile and spent a day similar to yesterday.
Meanwhile, he continued his earlier train of thought.
How to slay a thousand men.
His theory was that every knight used their own exceptional method. For instance, if it were Oara, she would use her Linking Sword. A sword that linked on and on would not stop, even if it cut down one, two, three, four, ten, or more than twenty men. When would that sword stop? Only when an unexpected, overwhelming force intervened.
What about Ragna? Normally, his speed in slaying enemies would be slower than Oara's—though it would be a different story if the enemies were clumped together. In Encrid's mind, he pictured Ragna carving through a unit tightly packed in a shield wall formation. Clumping together in front of Ragna was a terrible move. Even an average Associate Knight wouldn't dare block that sword for even a split second.
While Oara's sword flowed endlessly but might pause briefly before a wall, Ragna's sword would simply smash and shatter any clumsy barrier. Who was superior? There was no such thing. You would only know by fighting. Because dying when cold steel tore through one's body was a fate equally shared by everyone.
How would the others fight against a thousand men?
Rem would leap around like a grasshopper, swinging his axe in all directions. Throwing, striking, slashing—that was how he would do it. If he had to choose the one who could slay a thousand men the fastest, Encrid would pick Rem.
Sachsen? It was hard to imagine him slaying a thousand men. If asked, how would he reply?
"Do we absolutely have to slay a thousand men?"
"If there are a thousand men, wouldn't it make more sense to target their commander?"
Wouldn't he look at Encrid with such a question in his eyes? It seemed highly likely. Thinking up to this point made him chuckle.
"Did you think of a funny story? If so, you can tell me."
It was Esther's voice. Encrid opened his lightly closed eyes and looked at the black-haired, blue-eyed witch. Her moniker, the Black Flower, suited her quite well. With her black hair, lustrous skin, large eyes, high nose bridge, and reddish lips, anyone could see she possessed exceptional beauty. On top of that, with the cleavage visible through her robe, wouldn't most men willingly offer themselves up as her slaves?
"It's nothing."
Encrid closed his eyes again. Esther didn't try to speak to him further. Watching Esther step back and sit on the ground, Encrid continued his thoughts.
Since he didn't know the Knight of Azpen well, it was hard to picture him. The Mercenary King didn't seem like the type to face a thousand men alone. What about Audin? Even without rising to the rank of a knight, he felt like he could turn about a thousand men into a bloody pulp. It seemed entirely possible.
Then, what if one were on the receiving end, blocking the swords, fists, or weapons unleashed by knights? What if we looked at it from the perspective of a soldier facing a knight?
Simply being lucky wouldn't be enough to block a knight's sword. Even if the Goddess of Fortune showered them with kisses, merely surviving would be the absolute limit.
Indeed.
In reality, knights who had actually slain a thousand men were rare. Yet, a knight was still said to be one who slays a thousand. They were called disasters. What was it that made them so?
It was Will. The intangible power called willpower was the source that allowed them to surpass their limits.
The sun began to set. It was a 'today' similar to yesterday, yet different in some aspects. Odd-Eye had approached, and Teresa hummed a song. Unlike yesterday, it was only humming, but it was still pleasant to hear. Audin tapped the back of his left hand with his right fingers, keeping time.
Seeing Audin keep time, it seemed he too could play at least one instrument properly. His sense of rhythm was extraordinary.
"The beginning of martial arts is the feet, and what moves the feet is rhythm. Do not forget this, Brother," Audin had told him that one day.
Encrid moved his Will, trying to match the rhythm as if singing.
Thump-thud, thump-thud. Thump-thump-thud.
Drawing out his Will like beating a drum, he planted it in his toes. He had already tried drawing out and controlling his Will out of necessity. Now, instead of controlling it, he had to plant it and forget about it. Even while forgetting, the Will had to remain exactly as it was.
Is it possible to maintain it while forgetting?
It was. There was also something he had learned from Sachsen: how to unconsciously keep his senses open.
"Once you master a Sensory Technique, your ears will open. Just because you can see and hear everything, are you going to look at it all? Listen to it all? If you try to perceive, hear, and grasp everything happening around you, you'll go mad. That's why filtering out only what you need is essential."
Intuition.
This was why something beyond the five senses, which people called the Sixth Sense, was necessary. Instead of examining every single piece of information coming through the five senses, one had to filter them out instinctively. By engraving the sense of detecting danger into one's very bones, one could unconsciously maintain the Sensory Technique.
"Once you face a life-or-death crisis about a hundred times, you'll at least take your first baby steps."
Sachsen had said it as if it were impossible, but it was the easiest condition Encrid had ever heard. It sounded much better than "you'll get it if you just keep doing it." Because a bastard like Ragna would just say, "You'll get it if you keep doing it," and leave it at that.
Once again, the thought of what a crazy, directionally challenged bastard Ragna was crossed his mind.
In any case, he had faced countless life-or-death crises. In fact, he had died countless times. Engraving the intuition to detect danger into his subconscious was not difficult. It had happened naturally as he repeated 'today'.
Encrid restarted the process of drawing out his Will, forgetting it, and engraving it into his subconscious. Soon, the Will filling his entire body began to run wild of its own accord. The gathered intangible power formed a single flow and pounded against his heart. It felt as if his blood was flowing several times faster.
In reality, no such thing was happening. It was purely his Will moving that way.
Crack.
Once again, his heart burst.
Repeating the day yet again.
The next day, his lungs ruptured as well.
The day after that, a portion of his internal organs burned away.
He could use it briefly and disperse it, so why couldn't he gather it and endure? He didn't know. He would just have to find out one by one from now on.
Encrid kept repeating.
"How foolish."
Occasionally, the Ferryman appeared, but Encrid still mimed sewing his lips shut. By the time about fifty 'todays' had passed in this manner, he changed his method. Instead of gathering it in his entire body, he would try to gather it only in his feet and endure.
It wasn't easy. It would run wild and spread throughout his entire body. How could he hold onto it? Could it be resolved through his senses?
For Ragna, it was a path he had walked naturally with long, confident strides, but for Encrid, it was a path where he had to examine every single pebble on the ground and clear them all away as he went. No, in the first place, he couldn't even walk.
But does that even matter?
Instead of walking, Encrid crawled.
As if I haven't always done so.
Was it hard to go back to the past now that he had felt his skills improving recently? Not really. Every path Encrid had walked so far had been a crisis. Therefore, overcoming a crisis itself was not difficult. If all he had to do was walk while examining the path step by step, then he would do just that.
He had already seen the path. Correcting and repeating was his specialty. How to activate his Will, how to breathe at that moment, his mindset, his posture, and the intangible sense needed to control his Will—he went over everything, one by one. All he had to do was keep trying until it worked.
What he needed was patience, mindset, and self-discipline. Examining each step, and if he took a wrong path, turning back to start anew. What he needed to repeat this without ever growing tired of it was patience. On top of that, he had more than enough will to keep his heart from wavering despite repeated failures.
The mental strength to endure the pain of his Will tearing his entire body apart was surely self-discipline. Because as he died, he sometimes felt as if his muscles, nerves, internal organs, and everything from his fingertips to his toes were being ripped to shreds.
Actually, it wasn't that difficult. Encrid could do all of this. He was fine. All he needed was an unyielding dream. And he already possessed a dream—a dream that had once been torn and shredded into tattered pieces. Since he had patched that dream together to reach this point, he could keep going.
It was the first time. The Will starting from his feet found stability, if only for a brief moment.
First, the right foot.
The moment he smiled in ecstasy, the Will ran wild. Perhaps because he had successfully controlled his right foot for a brief moment, the process of the Will searing and bursting his body from the inside was slightly slower.
"Step aside, Brother."
For this reason, even as he was dying, Encrid could witness a wondrous sight through his narrowly opened eyes.
Light poured from Audin's entire body. It wasn't a metaphor; a halo literally emanated from behind him. The light became visible to the eye, dispersing into particles. It was divine power.
While emitting this light, Audin bled profusely from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Though he couldn't be sure, it looked as if Audin was prepared to die. Since his body was monstrously sturdy, perhaps he wouldn't die? That might be true, but he was certainly pushing himself to a comparable limit.
Just before the gathered light could reach him, Encrid barely managed to dodge. Instinctively, he had a feeling that if Audin used that light—that divine power—Audin would either die or be gravely injured.
Immediately after dodging, Encrid died. He passed away in an instant, without even the strength to utter a single word. Just before his eyes closed, he saw the light touch his body, but there was no miracle. Divine power was a miracle, but it could not bring back the dead.
However, right before he died...
"Wake up, Brother."
He did hear Audin's voice. It was spoken while blood gushed from Audin's eyes and nose.
Now, he knew the moment he opened his eyes that 'today' had ended and a new 'today' had begun.
"Crazy bastard," Encrid said as he sat up, looking at Audin for no particular reason.
"Did you have a good dream?" Audin asked with his usual smile.
Encrid stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and stood up. It was time to start a new 'today'. Since he seemed to have grasped the general knack of it with the success of his right foot, he was ready.
Letting go of the past 'today' and welcoming a new 'today'—that, too, was something he was already accustomed to. After all, crawling, walking, and running toward tomorrow was the only thing he was truly good at.