Chapter 521: Greed Drives Him Forward
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 521: Greed Drives Him Forward
Long ago, as he stood on the precipice of death, the knight Aker felt it would be a tragedy for his swordsmanship to vanish from the world.
To be precise, it isn't the techniques themselves that are the waste, but the realizations I’ve reached.
He had often stepped forward to teach others during his life, but he had never truly taught anyone properly. As was often the case with geniuses, Aker was no exception.
He found no joy in instruction. However, because he was determined to leave behind his legacy, he devised a method in his final moments.
It was a method that others would surely deem insane if they heard of it.
Could I not house my thoughtform within a blade?
Aker’s specialty was the transfer of Will into weapons.
Will is willpower. Could I not plant my thoughtform into that Will?
Aker’s imprinted weapon was a gift he had received the very first time he held a sword. Through a lifetime of reforging and hammering, it had become his soul-bound partner.
It was a weapon specialized for the knight named Aker, used throughout his entire life. This feat was only possible because of his mastery over Will transfer. Of course, luck also played its part.
In some respects, luck is the most crucial factor of all.
Aker enlisted the help of a mage, and in the end, he succeeded. He planted his thoughts and intentions into his imprinted weapon.
"There are four conditions."
Aker set the requirements for the sword to awaken.
The first three were simple.
First, since his swordsmanship could not be lost, the candidate must have learned his style.
Second, since the techniques were only meaningful to those who understood the essence of power, the candidate must have awakened Will.
Third, they must be the rightful owner of the sword.
The fourth and final hidden condition was the most difficult: it had to be someone who still "yearned" even after becoming a knight.
This condition was tricky, but essential. What would be the point of teaching someone who had no desire to learn? The successor had to be willing to study within the world of consciousness created by the sword.
But why was it the trickiest? Because once someone becomes a knight, it means they have already forged their own path with the sword. The time for them to struggle and flounder to learn from others has usually passed.
To find a knight who still possessed the desperate will of a student was no easy task.
Those who knew what Aker had done dismissed it as a meaningless, mad act, but to the knight himself, it didn't matter. He was satisfied.
Thus, the Ego Sword Aker was born.
Over time, the records of this process were distorted, leading to the creation of abominations like the Magic Sword Tutor. A foolish mage had stolen the secret techniques of the one who helped Aker and used them to create the Tutor series.
Tutor was a magic sword that imprisoned human souls; it was the very weapon that had once forced a mental death upon Encrid. In other words, Tutor was a mere imitation.
Over the long passage of time, Aker’s true swordsmanship had been lost, so it was no mere coincidence that a fragment of it had been found within the magic sword Tutor.
The knight Aker had created the magic sword Aker and died in peace. This was the final chapter of the story he left behind, but something more remained beyond the tale.
It was a lingering regret, left behind in the sword as a thoughtform.
But was that thoughtform intact? A consciousness filled only with lingering regret? When even human souls trapped in swords eventually turned into wraiths, could Aker’s thoughtform have avoided becoming a broken, twisted entity like the Magic Sword Tutor?
It certainly could have.
The thoughtform of Aker had been trapped inside the sword for an incredibly long time. Even as a thoughtform, it was a sentient being, and it could have easily gone mad. However, it was originally a part of the knight Aker.
Though born of regret, he had been one of the three swords who protected the founding king of Naurilia. His noble mental strength had been passed down to the thoughtform, keeping it uncorrupted. Even if the goal Aker had set wasn't inherently noble, it provided a firm sense of purpose.
However, a clear mind did not mean he was content.
The thoughtform was composed of lingering regret. He was not human—a wraith of the past who could hardly be said to exist—but even a thoughtform had desires.
I want to pass this on quickly, fulfill my duty, and ascend.
Whether it meant ascension or total annihilation, he wanted to resolve his regret and fade away. That was the wish of the thoughtform Aker.
Therefore, upon seeing someone who perfectly met even the fourth condition, there was no way the wraith Aker would not be delighted. Even if his opponent was a bit crazy, it did not diminish the intensity of his joy.
He had waited far too long.
This was why Aker spoke without being prompted. It was a gesture of consideration, meant to prevent his opponent from overexerting himself or growing weary of the struggle. He wanted to tease the man, but since Encrid wouldn't fall for it, he had no choice. After all, this man was the savior who would resolve his eternal regret.
"If you want to quit, just say so. You can rest and come back later."
There was no need to die here. If it was too hard, he could rest. This was the fundamental difference between the Magic Sword Tutor and the Famous Sword Aker.
As the thoughtform spoke, the man who had been kneeling on one knee, head bowed, finally raised his face.
"...Your face is going to burn," Aker remarked.
Encrid’s blue eyes were blazing. What had driven this man to such extremes? Aker didn't know, nor did he care to. He was simply glad that his regret could finally be resolved.
Even so, he couldn't help but worry.
Isn't he overdoing it?
Encrid kept attacking, which was fine. Aker wouldn't inflict a mental death upon him like the Tutor did. But if one didn't rest, their mental strength would inevitably erode. He truly believed the man should rest before facing him again.
"Hey, give it a rest. You can just come back later," Aker said once more.
But the man before him did not know the meaning of surrender.
"Not yet."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Aker could guess the missing words. I’m still fine. He had been repeating the same thing for a while now.
"Because you said there's only a month," Encrid said, planting the tip of his sword in the ground to push himself up. He raised his blade into a high guard.
"Since you've met the fourth condition, shouldn't you have a bit of leeway?"
Aker’s regret was simply to find a successor; he didn't necessarily have to impart every single technique. The spiritual essence was what mattered. Once the foundation was laid, the successor would develop the rest on his own.
Aker thought so, but Encrid had a different idea.
I only have a month.
He had to make the absolute most of every second. He couldn't fight life-or-death battles against Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, or Sinar. Even if their skills were superior, he couldn't pour everything into a fight with them because there was no telling who would survive. He had to maintain a distance, cloaking himself in only a moderate amount of killing intent.
But he didn't have to hold back against the knight Aker.
Aker’s sword had already pierced his body eight times, yet he had not died. There was pain, but it was a dull sensation, as if he were fighting under the influence of heavy numbing agents. It didn't hurt much—at least, not compared to the agony of actual death.
"Doesn't it even hurt?"
Aker worried the pain would leave mental scars, but to Encrid, this was nothing. He wasn't actually dying, nor was he suffering a mental blow close to death. Compared to repeating the same day over and over, or being trapped inside the Magic Sword Tutor, this was easy.
The risk was minimal compared to the potential gain.
"Overexerting yourself will only backfire."
"I'll take care of myself."
"I really dislike you."
Aker smiled even as he said it, but Encrid hadn't taken those words at face value for some time. He could sense a subtle fondness—a fondness that eventually prompted Aker to offer real advice.
"I'm telling you this because it seems like you'll never leave otherwise, but you're shouting way too much."
What is that supposed to mean? Encrid thought as he thrust his sword toward Aker once more.
"I mean you're shouting too much! When you charge in screaming 'Right!', who wouldn't know where you're aiming?"
Rem had described Encrid’s manifestation of Will as "clunky." Ragna called it "cluttered," and Sachsen called it "noisy."
"When did I ever shout?"
Though his mouth moved, Encrid’s posture and breathing remained undisturbed. Above all, he was enjoying this moment immensely.
And why wouldn't he? He had finally become a knight. Setting aside any sense of omnipotence, it was only natural to want to unleash every ounce of his new ability. He was indulging that desire to his heart's content.
What happens when you hand a bottle of water to someone who hasn't had a drop for three days?
Thus, even as he questioned Aker’s words, his body moved naturally.
"You crazy bastard, at least listen to me before you attack!"
Boom!
Grass shattered and the earth was gouged open. Encrid surged forward twice as fast as the charge of the associate knight he had seen in Greenpearl. He channeled strength into his sword hand, letting his shoulder and elbow bend fluidly as he slashed in line with his momentum.
Whoosh!
Even to the dynamic visual acuity of a knight, the blade seemed to bend through the air.
Aker swung his sword in a vertical arc. Their blades clashed, followed by a rapid flurry of exchanges. When Encrid tried to use sheer strength to push the blade back and sweep Aker’s heel, Aker pulled his foot back and attempted to strike the back of Encrid’s hand with his pommel.
If he stayed put, he would be hit. Encrid had to pull back—but did he really? Couldn't he take a hit to land a hit?
Here, he could afford the sacrifice. His judgment was instantaneous; there was no hesitation.
"What's the use of quick judgment when you're telling me everything in advance!"
Aker rendered the tactic useless. Shouting, he leaped backward to widen the gap. Encrid, who had planned to sacrifice the back of his right hand to bruise the wraith’s face with his left fist, froze.
Aker’s meaning finally clicked.
"Will is willpower. I know your Will is overflowing, but what happens if you just scatter it haphazardly? If your opponent is at your level, they won't even need Foresight. Even without mind-reading, your intentions are glaringly obvious."
"Is that what you meant by me shouting?"
"Yeah." Aker nodded.
Aker was a thoughtform created by a genius. Naturally, the living Aker had not been a good teacher. 'Why can't you just do it like this?' was how geniuses usually taught.
However, the thoughtform Aker had spent an eternity contemplating how to pass down his legacy. Because of that time, his explanation was excellent.
Compared to Rem, he’s an angel.
Encrid nodded. He blinked, reflecting on his opponent’s words. He chewed on them, entering a state of deep concentration. With his opponent standing right in front of him, he began a combat review, momentarily forgetting his surroundings.
He pondered and organized his thoughts.
"So, rest up properly and then—hey? Uh? Is this guy seriously insane?"
The thoughtform was dumbfounded. With his opponent right in front of him, the man had suddenly half-closed his eyes in a meditative posture.
Encrid remained like that for a long time. Eventually, he opened his eyes fully.
"I think I get the gist of it."
"Get what?"
"The meaning of what you said."
If he had spent this much time, shouldn't he have fully realized it rather than just "getting the gist"? Especially when he had been given the answers?
But that wasn't the case.
"Again."
Encrid charged, and Aker raised his sword to meet him.
Swinging his sword, moving his body. Fighting with everything he had, risking his life. In that process, Encrid gradually learned how to handle Will—specifically, how to manage the massive, unruly mass of power he possessed.
What should he do if it was too heavy to handle? Should he break off small pieces to use?
Encrid did not. Instead of splitting it, he chose a different path. Instinctively, he knew that splitting his Will would ruin him. This path might not be the "correct" answer, but shouldn't the path his heart inclined toward be the right one?
On the road of life, one can ultimately walk only a single path. Even repeating the same day did not mean he could undo every choice. Even if he could return to his childhood and start anew, life’s choices were made only once.
Therefore, he only needed to do his best on the path he had chosen. There was no reason to leave regrets at the crossroads he had already passed.
Because Encrid had lived his life that way, he did the same now. He swung his sword straight and steadfastly. The massive mass of Will inside him sprawled out wildly; he grabbed and controlled it, piece by piece.
"You stubborn fool," Aker said with genuine exasperation, but Encrid didn't stop.
How much time had passed? He didn't know. But Encrid felt that he had finally crossed a wall. It happened after they had sparred over a hundred times.
"What I just taught you is the basics. Since predicting Foresight relies on insight, you plant complexity in your opponent’s mind by showing false intentions."
"Is this the end?"
He had grasped the general knack of it. When he asked, Aker wiped the smile from his face.
"It’s not the end, but go rest! No compromises!"
Aker was firm. Even to him, Encrid’s mental strength was incredible, but no one could endure forever without eating or sleeping. The mind was no different. No matter how resilient, wear and tear was inevitable.
Encrid recognized the need for rest and nodded.
"Then, again."
The words "see you" were omitted, but the meaning was clear.
"Yeah, again."
Aker expelled Encrid from the world of consciousness.
In the real world, probably not even an hour had passed. Yet, not long after Encrid vanished, he returned.
His black hair was messy, and his eyes were like wide-open blue flames.
"Why are you back already?"
It had barely been any time at all. Encrid had entered the world of consciousness once more. For someone who had only entered it once before, he had mastered the knack of it far too quickly.
"Because I've rested enough."
Instead of being shocked, Aker simply nodded. Surprise only worked once or twice. Now, he felt he understood the strength this man named Encrid possessed.
That mental strength of his... that must be what gave him such an enormous mass of Will.
Though he was a thoughtform, he possessed the experience of the knight Aker, and his eye for talent was exceptional.
"Aker liked spiders."
At the sudden remark, Encrid swung his sword. They could talk while fighting.
"You crazy bastard, at least listen to the end before you attack!"
"It's a waste of time. Talk while we fight."
Encrid was busy stealing and learning the knack of how Aker kept his breathing undisturbed in any posture. With his yearning blazing once more, he intended to do everything he possibly could.
An unprecedented greed surged within him, a hunger that drove Encrid forward.
To go further. To never stop.
And Encrid did not refuse the push of that greed.