Chapter 58: Now That I Have It, I Can See It
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 58: Now That I Have It, I Can See It
There was a time when even greed was a luxury he wasn't permitted to harbor.
A life of dreaming and wishing, yet struggling desperately only because he knew those dreams could never be realized.
Such was Encrid's life.
But not anymore. Now, he could lay bare his desires and charge forward. In fact, doing so was more advantageous to him now.
After his warm-up exercises, it was time for a brief lesson from Sachsen on how to throw daggers.
"I want to learn more."
"I thought you were only at a beginner's level," Sachsen muttered, having watched him throw.
Encrid replied nonchalantly, "There was someone on the battlefield who threw like this. I watched and learned."
Sachsen stared at Encrid with a blank expression.
"Believe me, it's true."
"Is that so?"
Of course it was. Wasn't this exactly what geniuses did?
Throughout his entire life as a mediocrity, he had watched countless geniuses—or those deemed talented—do exactly this. Right now, he was pretending to be one of them. He was playing the part of a genius.
It was a trick he could pull off only because he was repeating today.
Revealing his desires was advantageous because it forced him to maintain this very attitude. What were geniuses like? Knowing that what lay before them was something to be seized, they would never hesitate to express their desires.
Above all, he was entirely sincere. If it were a matter of sheer desire to learn, Encrid was second to none on the continent.
"Very well."
It was always the same. Sachsen's hesitation was brief, followed by absolute seriousness. He taught Encrid properly.
It was a rather enjoyable time.
Encrid repeatedly practiced gripping and throwing the daggers. In no time, he was drenched in sweat.
"Didn't you say you had to go on duty?"
"It's fine."
It was just a warm-up, not enough to reach exhaustion.
Today had begun once more. Or, to be precise, it was the seventh "today."
Instead of keeping Jack and Bo on either side of him, Encrid walked on the far left.
"I feel most comfortable on the far left. It's a jinx of mine."
Since Encrid had stepped forward and said so, what choice did they have? Jack and Bo were left speechless.
"Is that so? Well, that's a bit peculiar."
"Yes, please walk wherever you feel comfortable."
His sweat cooled quickly, but the heat warming his body remained. Though it was a day he had repeated seven times, the air felt strangely different.
The pouring sunlight pierced through the cold wind to touch his skin. The chirping of winter birds brushed past his ears. He liked the sensation of treading on the dirt and the vibration of the earth felt with every step.
The air, the earth, the soil, the wind. All of it wrapped around his body, brushing past, warming him, lingering, and then flowing away.
The sky was clear as well. Though the bitter cold of winter—the fourth of the four seasons—had arrived to herald the end of the year with a biting, razor-sharp wind, even that wind brought a sense of refreshment rather than chill.
In his repeated todays, he had always endured with fierce intensity. Yet, for some reason, his tension eased today. A sense of tranquility enveloped his body.
It wasn't that he had forgotten his intensity. He was simply at ease. The path he walked, this very moment, everything.
‘Why is my mind so at peace?’
He didn't know. Even though he knew he would die soon. Even though the moment of struggle to face that painful death was drawing near. Even though dying never became familiar, feeling like the very first time no matter how many times he did it.
"The throw itself is instantaneous; before that, you must relax your entire body. Let your body go limp and focus amidst the tranquility. It will be difficult."
Sachsen's words were only half right. It was indeed difficult, but not to the point of giving up. It was hard, but manageable.
Audacity—the trait bestowed upon him by the Beast's Heart.
Audacity allowed him to observe everything to the very end, even in the face of imminent death. And Concentrate One, the Single-Point Focus, allowed him to perceive the same situation in an entirely different light.
The combination of audacity and focus allowed Encrid to grasp the very edge of talent. Normally, he would never have acquired either audacity or focus this way, but now, Encrid held two lifelines.
‘It's working.’
Just a few lessons and a few repetitions. With only three or four repetitions, his body was already committing it to memory. It was largely thanks to a stroke of great luck. Something he shouldn't have been able to grasp even after countless repetitions was now within his reach.
That slender thread brought Encrid unparalleled joy. It was an unprecedented ecstasy.
"Are you alright?" Bo asked from beside him.
Walking with a blank face and suddenly grinning like a madman, he certainly didn't look sane. It was a miracle he wasn't drooling.
"Ah, yes, I'm fine. Forgive my unsightly behavior."
Encrid wiped the corner of his mouth for no reason as he walked. Watching his light-hearted steps, Jack and Bo exchanged glances.
Jack asked with his eyes: ‘Is this bastard a little crazy?’
‘Looks like it to me, too,’ Bo signaled back.
The two conversed solely through glances and hand gestures. It was a familiar routine—hand signals they had used since their days in the Thieves' Guild.
"The weather is nice," Encrid said.
"It's freezing to death, though?" Jack pouted.
Normally, he would have flattered his target to lower their guard, but because the target was already so relaxed before he could even try anything, a natural sense of defiance welled up. He truly wondered what was wrong with this guy.
"Of course it's cold. It's the final season of the four."
Winter was harsh. But one must not let the harshness and cold blind them to the warmth of the moment. Relaxing the body was not something achieved simply by repeating it in his head.
Sachsen's demonstration rose in his mind, and over it, the image of the Half-Elf Assassin was superimposed. To relax the body, the mind must relax first.
Mental burden, threats, and anxiety. Encrid cast them all aside.
Within his relaxed mind, the scene of the Half-Elf throwing the Whistling Daggers replayed countless times. In truth, it was no different from repeating today.
What does one learn from defeat? And what had he learned from throwing his life away countless times? He had already passed the stage where he had to sacrifice his life just to gain something.
He asked himself these questions repeatedly. Thanks to his suitably relaxed body and mind, his steps were loose. He walked, but without the rigid discipline required for patrol duty.
Walking like that, they soon reached the market.
"Hey, Squad Leader, what's got you in such a good mood?" Jack stopped and asked.
He wasn't asking out of genuine curiosity; Encrid could see him subtly shifting his stance. Bo also moved. Both of them shifted into positions to apply pressure. They turned toward Encrid, blocking the view of onlookers so they could draw their blades and stab him at any moment.
Keeping both of them in his field of vision, Encrid took a single, steady breath. Then, he thrust his foot forward.
He tapped the tip of his boot sharply against Jack's shin.
Though he thought his body and mind were relaxed, his body moved more precisely to his will than ever before. It was a kick delivered with bizarre timing, leaving the opponent completely unable to react.
Thwack!
"Urgh!"
Struck in the shin, Jack doubled over. With a movement so light it could only be described as effortless, Encrid pressed down on the back of Jack's head with his left hand and drove his knee upward.
Thud!
A sound like wet dough being slammed echoed. Jack's head snapped back up, revealing a face ruined by blood from a broken nose.
"Fuck, I can't sell it for that price!"
It was a beat faster than usual. It was a movement entirely separate from the plan he had devised today. It wasn't intentional; his body was simply moving on its own.
‘Does it even matter?’
Encrid didn't care. It felt as though he had ingested a drug that induced euphoria and clouded his mind. Even if he actually had, it wouldn't have mattered. That was how light his body felt.
"What the—!"
He saw Bo's shock. Before Bo could react, Encrid's hand was already reaching for the nape of his neck.
"Tch!"
Startled, Bo jerked his head back. It was exactly as expected. Whenever Encrid utilized the element of surprise, Bo always reacted with the exact same pattern. Having witnessed that pattern more than five times already, it was deeply familiar.
Instead of following through with his extended left hand, Encrid planted his left foot and spun his body in the opposite direction. Pivoting on his left foot, he spun. Rather than facing forward, he turned sideways and extended his right hand.
In an instant, his reach extended, and his right hand reached Bo's retreating face. And it wasn't just a mere touch.
Crack!
His Snap Strike produced a sound like a leather drum bursting. Heated by strength, speed, and focus, Encrid's fist shattered Bo's face as well.
"Argh!"
Clutching his face, Bo stumbled back three or four steps.
Watching him, Encrid smoothly turned back. Was it because he had started a bit too early? He didn't know. Just because today was repeating didn't mean the exact same things would always happen. Everything could change. Encrid knew this all too well.
Where he looked, the Half-Elf was visible. Still clad in his rags, the bastard's hand moved. From bottom to top. A streak of light flew, trailing his right hand.
Encrid had not prepared any defense. But...
‘Does it even matter?’
In an instant, time slowed down. This was Encrid's second time experiencing this—the moment his focus shattered its limits. A rift in time that those in the realm of geniuses would encounter countless times.
A similar sensation had shone when he deflected the Mustachioed Man's strike on his final battlefield with Azpen. It was happening again now.
Of course, Encrid was not consciously aware of it. His mind was still half-entranced. His entranced mind, his burning focus, his Blade's Sense, and his beast-like audacity saw the streak of light. They allowed him to predict its destination.
‘Can I dodge it?’
No. There was no time for that. The rift in split time was closing. Encrid's rapidly spinning brain formulated an answer.
Thud! Wheeeeee!
He blocked with his arm. The blade embedded itself in his left arm, which he had raised to shield his heart. Just as he thought he heard the noise emitted by the Whistling Dagger, pain flared in his forearm.
A heavy impact and the burning pain of the blade. Yet even the pain felt distant. The surrounding commotion sounded faint and far away.
Once he saw it, he wanted it. And now that he had it, he could see it. The trajectory of the Whistling Dagger was clear in Encrid's eyes. That was how he blocked it.
He raised his head and looked at his enemy. Having discarded his rags, the Half-Elf's hands moved relentlessly. He was like a living, rapid-fire crossbow. No, he was fiercer than that.
Encrid hadn't been able to dodge the first one. But this time, he could. He saw the starting point of the hands and predicted the destination of the incoming streaks of light.
Wheeeeeeee!
He dodged two perfectly, while one grazed his cheek. The three cries of the Whistling Daggers merged to create a strange harmony.
Having dodged them all, Encrid pulled out the dagger embedded in his forearm. Blood poured from his arm, but it wasn't enough to stop him. He hadn't been hit where the opponent intended; rather, he had blocked it with the exact spot he chose.
Though it left a gash on his arm, it wasn't enough to incapacitate him. The leather armor strapped to his forearm had also done its job.
"This bastard..."
Furious, the Half-Elf closed the distance. As he advanced, he continued to unleash streaks of light from wherever he had hidden them. Encrid couldn't dodge them all. No, actually, he could have held out longer.
But today was different from other days.
Before he knew it, Rotten had approached from behind. Encrid failed to notice him in time. Rotten shoved Encrid's back.
Thud.
That was the end. Three throwing daggers shrieked through the air, embedding themselves in his heart, his flank, and his neck.
An agonizing pain washed over him. Encrid's body slowly collapsed. Squeezing out the last of his strength, he forced one knee to the ground to prop himself up, but a hot surge welled up from deep within his throat. Unable to hold it back, he opened his mouth, and bloody froth spilled out.
"Aaaaaah!"
Only then did the screams of the crowd pierce his ears. His hazy mind snapped back to reality. The pain began to register with brutal clarity.
The Half-Elf Assassin stepped up to the fallen Encrid. His expression was far from pleasant.
"You..."
He uttered a single word and said no more. The Persistent Lover never lets his prey escape. It was time for him to say those words. But he didn't. No, he couldn't.
The assassin's eyes locked onto Encrid's face.
"This crazy bastard..."
He glared, his eyes bulging like a venomous toad. Encrid was smiling.
"Cough, cough."
Even as he coughed up bloody froth, he laughed. There was bound to be a misunderstanding here. The Elf felt he was being mocked, but Encrid had no such intention.
As he lay dying, he thought to himself: ‘Only seven times.’
He had repeated today only seven times. Yet, he hadn't just found a breakthrough; he could see entirely beyond it.
Only seven times. No, he couldn't say "only." Because he did not know despair or frustration, because he ran looking solely toward tomorrow—this was something only he could achieve.
His meager talent had forged a man of endless effort, and that endless effort had allowed him to grasp the very edge of talent. It was a miracle. No, there was no such thing as a miracle. This was simply the reward earned because he had never harbored frustration or despair on any single day of his repeated todays.
In the day, the "today" that would rise once more, Encrid believed he could bring this to an end.
"Crazy bastard."
Thud!
From point-blank range, the Elf thrust his long blade through Encrid's neck once more.
That was the end. The moment of death.
Death approached, and darkness swallowed the world. Beyond the darkness, he saw the Ferryman sailing the river.
Hehehe!
He mocked Encrid once again. Encrid was quite curious about what would happen the next time he met the Ferryman. Just how that mocking laughter would change.
*
"Good morning."
Morning came, and he opened his eyes once more. Encrid stood up with a light heart.
Though he couldn't call it perfect, he had learned how to throw the Whistling Daggers. And though it wasn't perfect either, he had learned the basic monk exercises from Audin.
"It's freezing to death, so what's got you in such a good mood?"
"I had a good dream."
A very, truly wonderful dream. It was a day spent with a hazy mind. That day, that "today."
Encrid had caught a glimpse of the life of the talented, and he was utterly satisfied. At the same time, he could see the path forward.
The path forward—the way to scale the wall blocking his path.