Chapter 57: Now That I've Seen It, I Want It
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 57: Now That I've Seen It, I Want It
The question came out of nowhere.
But Sachsen wasn't the type to be easily rattled. His face remained as stoic as ever. He parted his lips slightly, then paused, appearing to be deep in thought.
Encrid stood with his arms hanging loosely at his sides, quietly waiting for Sachsen to speak. Rushing him wouldn't help.
The hesitation was brief. Soon, a puff of white breath escaped Sachsen’s lips and dispersed into the freezing air.
"The whistle dagger. At one time, it was known as the 'Throwing Dagger of Lingering Sound.'"
Sachsen scratched his cheek as he spoke. For someone who had hesitated, his words now flowed smoothly.
"The Throwing Dagger of Lingering Sound. It’s called that because it’s simply that fast—so fast the human eye can barely track it. That’s what makes it so difficult to handle. Most people die without ever knowing what hit them. That is the nature of a whistle dagger."
"What if I absolutely have to face it?"
Was there a way to avoid the assassin? Not right now. It didn't seem possible. The bastard had prepared meticulously, utilizing a spy planted among their own allies. His preparations for both the kill and the escape were thorough.
At least, that was how it looked to Encrid. His limbs were bound in the chains of this 'today,' forced to be dragged wherever his opponent pulled. It was time to find a way through.
"Absolutely?" Sachsen tilted his head. To his ears, it must have sounded like a strange thing to say.
"Absolutely," Encrid emphasized.
Sachsen stared intently into Encrid’s eyes. Encrid did not avert his gaze. Blue eyes met reddish-brown across the empty space. Sachsen’s gaze seemed to ask: Why do you need to know this?
Encrid ignored the silent question. Sachsen of Equivalent Exchange was a man who sold necessary information; he was not one to interrogate his clients.
Sachsen’s expression soon hardened. "This information won’t be cheap."
"The more expensive, the better."
Encrid meant it. After all, it didn't seem like 'today' would be his last 'today.' Once the sun rose on this morning again, the value of the information Sachsen shared now would plummet to nothing. It would become knowledge he already possessed—at least, that was how it worked for Encrid.
Sachsen’s expression stiffened, looking somewhat displeased. Encrid ignored that as well. Sachsen’s mood wasn't the priority.
"Before you hear the sound, you must watch the hand. Everything depends on the motion of the throw," Sachsen explained simply.
Do not be fooled by the sound. By the time you hear it, it’s already too late. Keep your eyes locked on the opponent’s movements.
"You must not lose sight of them for even a single second. Especially if the opponent is a first-rate assassin—they know how to make the blade invisible."
The defining characteristic of the whistle dagger was its paper-thin blade. The key was to grind and hone it repeatedly until it could pierce even a standard steel breastplate. If the thrower’s skill was exceptional, it could indeed penetrate steel. Sachsen added that depending on their skill level, some would even stack multiple thin blades together.
Sachsen categorized the throwing methods into two main types: swinging the arm wide to maximize power, or throwing with a concealed motion.
"You’ve seen me throw daggers before, right?" Encrid asked. Throwing daggers was a skill he had once been obsessed with.
"Yes. It was about on par with throwing rocks."
Sachsen dismissed Encrid’s skill in a single sentence. He was essentially saying Encrid would be better off throwing a stone; at least a rock would deliver some blunt impact, whereas his dagger work was aimless.
Harsh.
No matter how indifferent Encrid usually was, Sachsen’s words were sharp enough to pierce his skin. It didn't feel like a dagger to the heart, but it certainly felt like one had grazed his forearm.
"Then teach me. How to throw them properly," Encrid grumbled.
"Then learn. I will add this to our transaction list."
"Hmm?"
"Do you dislike the idea?"
He didn't. To Encrid, who was consumed by an endless thirst for growth, the proposal was an oasis in the desert. He nodded immediately. "No, I’d like that."
"We start with the grip."
Since patrol duty was approaching, the session was brief—half an hour at most. In that short span, Encrid found himself seeing Sachsen in a new light.
"It won't mean anything without practice," Sachsen noted.
How to grip and throw a thin blade, a hand axe, or a heavy dagger—the technique was completely different for each. Once again, there was an abundance of things to learn.
As Encrid turned to head out for patrol, Sachsen spoke, his voice quiet but firm.
"Do not go out of your way to create a situation where you must face them. That comes first."
After acting subtly sullen the entire time, he ended with a note of concern. Once again, Encrid wondered what he had ever done to deserve this.
They treat me well for no reason.
It wasn't a romantic relationship, nor did he think they shared a deep, ancient friendship. Yet, looking at the attitudes of squadmates like Sachsen, Rem, and Ragna, it was as if they were looking after a child playing too close to the water.
No, maybe not.
Since they didn't insist on following him every time he was deployed to a fight, they probably didn't see him as a child. It was a pointless thought.
"I’ll do that," Encrid replied.
In truth, he had no intention of following that advice. It wasn't as if he could avoid the situation just because he wanted to.
*
"Was your duty as squad leader? I heard you became a Senior Soldier? Ah, shit, congratulations."
It was Jack. Of course, Bo was with him.
"Let's go."
Once again, Encrid immersed himself in the waves of 'today.' Although a bone-chilling wind raged, he had layered on more clothing than yesterday, making it practically as effective as cloth armor. His clothes were thick, and the exercises he had learned from Audin helped warm his blood. The cold felt much more bearable.
"Shit, I can't sell it at that price!"
Inside the marketplace, everything was the same. Encrid used a certain merchant’s shout as his cue. It was right around this time. When the leather merchant’s angry roar rang out, the half-elf draped in rags would appear.
At the same time, Jack and Bo flanked him. Encrid had no intention of wasting this loop. He had a plan.
Thud. He tripped Jack with his left foot.
"Whoa!"
To Encrid’s left, Jack tumbled forward. The moment he tripped him, Encrid drew the blade from his right hip—a Guard Sword. It was a weapon with a wide, thick blade that could double as a shield.
Clink, slash.
"...Crazy bastard!" Bo cried out in shock.
And with good reason. The wide blade Encrid drew had sliced clean through the back of Jack’s neck.
"Gurgle."
There wasn't even time for a death rattle. With his windpipe severed, Jack faceplanted into the dirt, clutching his neck as he thrashed. Blood pooled into the frozen mud.
The merchants nearby shrieked.
"Kyaaa!"
"Ugh!"
The crowd instantly scattered. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire. In the chaos, Bo flinched. Encrid didn't give him a chance to move. The wide blade swept out once more in a downward strike aiming for the collarbone.
Clang!
"You son of a bitch!"
Bo had drawn a dagger to block. It was a thin-bladed weapon designed solely for thrusting—likely intended to stab Encrid in the flank if things went south. As Encrid pressed down on the blocked blade and shoved, Bo stumbled backward.
Using that momentum to buy time, Encrid guarded his chest with the wide blade and spun. All of this had unfolded in the span of two breaths. It was a brief window, but more than enough to freeze anyone who hadn't prepared for it.
So far, so good.
It went according to plan. Encrid’s gaze locked onto the assassin. The bastard pulled back the rags covering his head, revealing a face that evoked a strange sense of revulsion. Encrid could see curiosity and amusement sparking in the man’s eyes.
And then, it began.
Not the sound. Watch the hand.
He shut out his hearing and focused every sense on his eyes, predicting the next move based on visual cues alone. This was the countermeasure Sachsen had taught him.
Thud!
Encrid had assumed the opponent would aim for his heart or his head. Because his concentration was at its peak, the flash of light looked like a physical blade. However, he couldn't see where that blade would land. He guarded his heart and tilted his head, but...
The whistle dagger struck his right forearm.
Along with a searing pain, his muscle tore, leaving his fingers completely powerless. The nerve was severed—a fatal wound he couldn't recover from without divine healing.
"Ha."
A hollow laugh escaped him. It was an unexpected strike. Since he guarded his heart, the assassin targeted his hand. Instead of trying to pierce the shield, he disabled the one holding it. A completely different perspective.
He’s no amateur.
The truth he had already realized was etched into his mind once more.
Wheeeet.
A second whistle rang out, and a throwing dagger pierced his heart. Did this bastard have a grudge against Frok? He seemed obsessed with driving daggers into hearts.
"Cough."
He spat up a torrent of blood. As he collapsed onto his knees, supporting his weight with only his left arm, a shadow loomed over him.
"What an interesting fellow. The Persistent Lover never lets his prey..."
"...escape."
Encrid squeezed out his last ounce of strength to finish the sentence. He looked up at the half-elf, whose face was now a picture of utter bewilderment. The assassin’s mouth hung open. His lips twitched before he finally blurted out a single word.
"You...?"
Surprised? Of course you are.
The bastard always moved as if he had anticipated everything. Encrid had wanted to see that smug composure shatter. He was satisfied.
"See you again."
In a 'today' that the opponent would not remember, but Encrid would. It was a promise to meet again in this very moment.
The assassin gasped. "Was this a trap?"
The half-elf scanned his surroundings. Hiring a first-rate assassin to kill a mere soldier already felt like overkill. If it were a trap, it would make sense. He assumed the phrase "see you again" meant the soldier had a way to survive.
Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. Trap, my ass.
Thud. Encrid’s head slumped forward.
Once again, the day ended. The ferryman appeared yet again and mocked him.
Does this bastard have nothing better to do?
With that thought, Encrid welcomed 'today' once more.
*
"Ugh, it's freezing as hell."
From early morning, Rem’s grumbling could be heard.
"Move around to warm up. You'll feel better," Encrid said, stealing the words right out of Audin’s mouth.
He stood up and began to stretch. A properly warmed-up body was far better than a stiff one. In that regard, Audin’s exercises were definitely helpful.
As he went through the motions, Audin approached. "Where did you learn that?"
I learned it from you. But he couldn't say that.
"From a passing acolyte."
Audin had mentioned before that the origin of these exercises lay in the temple. They were the physical training methods of monks who used martial arts for spiritual discipline.
"You learned it properly," Audin noted, joining in.
"Don't you know that when it's cold, staying still under a blanket is best?" Rem grumbled. "Go find some thermal leather. If you're the squad leader now, you should solve your squad’s cold problem."
While Encrid was casually bickering with Rem, Sachsen returned.
"Let's talk," Encrid said, abruptly pulling Sachsen outside.
"What the? Where are you going without me!" Rem shouted behind them.
Once they were alone, Encrid spoke. "I want to learn how to use the whistle dagger."
This was something Encrid had realized through his repeating days: it was better to bluntly state what he wanted rather than wasting time trying to persuade someone.
"Where did you hear about that?"
"When you wander around, you pick things up. I want to learn."
"And the price?"
"Whatever you want. I’ll even give you a blank promissory note."
In the lore of the continent, a blank promissory note was synonymous with promising anything short of one's own life—a tradition started by the great Rengadis Merchant Guild.
Sachsen’s brow furrowed. "You shouldn't throw around words like that so lightly."
"That's just how much I want to learn," Encrid countered.
He was dead serious. The throwing dagger used by the half-elf—he wanted it. He wanted to master it. A burning desire welled up inside him.
Seeing the look in Encrid’s eyes, Sachsen nodded. A fire was blazing within the soldier—a flame of desire that would burn through anything it touched.