Chapter 614: Profit and Fun
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 614: Profit and Fun
A slash, then another, and another still.
Ragna’s blade carved, hewed, and crushed through the enemy ranks.
He sought to build an iron wall—one more refined than the one Encrid had displayed.
But while his efforts were undeniably effective, he wondered if "refined" was truly the right word. Depending on one's perspective, and setting aside the sheer consumption of Will, this approach could actually be considered even more brutish.
Ragna’s swordplay wasn't blindingly fast. Because of that, the sight of soldiers being broken and crushed was vividly clear to everyone watching. It wasn't just a sight they witnessed; it felt as if the carnage was being violently shoved into their retinas.
"Get down. Or die."
Ragna spoke as he moved, offering a warning even as he struck. To the enemy soldiers, those words were a death sentence.
"Nonsense!"
A crusader, confident he could block at least a single blow from a knight, died.
The crusader rumored to be the finest shield-wielder in the unit died as well.
An associate knight was caught in a passing slash and killed instantly.
Terrifying, a soldier thought.
Before thoughts of survival or longing for his mother could even form, his physiological instinct to reject death took over. Pure, unadulterated terror flooded the soldier's mind.
In this manner, Ragna drew a wall of fear.
With terror acting as a barrier blocking the path ahead, it became an iron wall that no one dared to cross. This was Ragna’s iron wall.
"……What in the world?"
Mull stood dumbfounded, her mouth hanging open.
One of those who recognized the power, Will, and meaning imbued in Ragna’s swordplay could not contain his excitement at the exhilarating sight. He let out a shout.
"Splendid, Brother! I shall show you mine as well!"
What Ragna had displayed was the culmination of the swordplay he had honed all this time. Seeing this, Audin grew fired up.
Since Audin had claimed he would gauge Ragna’s skills once he returned, Ragna had essentially delivered his answer through his sword.
Will you still talk about 'education' after seeing this?
Even if Ragna hadn't consciously intended it that way, that was how it sounded to Audin.
The returned member took a step forward.
"I am Audin of the Order of Madness."
His clothes were in tatters, but no one noticed. Just by stepping forward, he imprinted his overwhelming pressure and presence onto everyone present.
"This humble servant feels shame. Father, why did You allow them to walk the path of corruption? I send them to Your side now, so please stroke the heads of these lost sheep and guide them to where they truly belong."
With those words, Audin strode toward Azratic. Since the distance between them was short to begin with, it vanished in an instant.
Azratic watched his opponent approach. It wasn't just that Audin’s physical frame seemed to expand; his presence grew larger with every step he took.
For twenty years, his only true rival had been Overdear, but now, formidable figures were rising one after another. The man before him was undoubtedly one of them.
The aura radiating from him said as much. It was a fated encounter he never would have experienced had he remained quietly within the Holy Order.
"If one wishes to place what they desire on one side of the scales, they must place something of equal value on the opposite side to achieve balance."
Azratic muttered the words as he watched Audin approach.
If what he desired was the passion he had long since forgotten, what should he place on the other side of the scale? He had been taught to offer something of equal value, no matter the desire.
Whether it was honor, or his very life.
Such was the teaching of the God of Scales.
Granted, apostasy was crossing the line—but if one was desperate enough, couldn't they cross that line? Or was all of this merely self-justification?
If Encrid had read his inner thoughts, he would have nodded in agreement. And then he would have told him not to run away using such pathetic excuses.
"Are you looking forward to this, you old, brain-sick brother?" Audin asked as he came to a halt. He asked because his opponent looked like a child on the night before a picnic.
"Indeed," Azratic answered readily, feeling his forgotten passion flare up. After all, wasn't this the very reason he had set out—to fight someone like this?
What he had placed on the opposite side of the scales was his lifelong reputation and his life. And going even further, his apostasy. In return, he gained a thrilling, life-or-death battle.
"As am I."
Audin smiled warmly. Since it was now time to send this man to the God of War’s side to answer for his sins, smiling at the pitiful sinner was proof of Audin’s benevolence.
Externally, Azratic’s build seemed barely half of Audin’s. However, the aura he exuded was in no way inferior. He took a step forward, gently waving his fingers up and down. They were thick, long fingers—the very weapons that had earned him the nickname "Serpent."
Having closed the distance, they were now within arm's reach.
Tap.
Audin and Azratic touched the backs of their right hands together. It was a habit from their days as Martial Crusaders when starting a duel.
Then, their hands parted, and a flurry of grabs, strikes, kicks, and deflections ensued. At first, the sounds were quiet.
Tap-tap, crack!
It was merely the noise of hands and feet colliding. Since they were redirecting and parrying each other’s force, no clean hits landed.
Azratic employed Holy Penetration, but Audin repelled it with his own Holy Power boiling up from within. Such offense and defense were woven into their simple hand and foot movements.
Anyone present capable of sensing Will perceived the sheer, bloodcurdling intensity of their exchange.
"Splendid!" Azratic shouted.
He had just feigned a sweep at Audin’s ankle with his left foot, intending to hook and pull him in, but Audin had read the trick and dodged instead of blocking. The shout burst from Azratic the moment he saw this.
Azratic judged that in terms of pure technique, there was no gap between them.
No, am I actually slightly behind?
Yet, even that realization was exhilarating. If he was falling behind in technique, what was left?
Fwoosh!
Azratic began to radiate light. It was not the murky gray light seen until now, but a brilliant white flash. It was Holy Power accumulated over decades. Though it did not well up endlessly like the inexhaustible Will of a certain someone, its sheer volume was still unfathomable.
"Excellent!" Audin shouted back.
Just as Azratic’s trick had been read, so had his. Before his opponent could trip him, Audin had feigned a chop to the shoulder with the edge of his hand, only to splay his fingers like a claw to grab him—yet Azratic had countered by clasping his hand to block it.
They had briefly clashed in a contest of strength, and Azratic was so solid and unyielding that Audin felt he could not suppress him with a sudden burst of force.
Light erupted from Audin’s body as well. His light was a flash tinged with yellow, rather than pure white.
As the lights of Azratic and Audin mingled, it was impossible to tell who held the upper hand. In other words, this was not a battle that would end quickly.
Encrid watched all of this, recalling a conversation they had right before the battle. It was a passing thought.
*
"There is no guarantee we will win."
Before stepping forward, Encrid looked at the hand holding him back. Though it was a hand made of words, he could not simply ignore and shake it off. After all, this was the man he had called his friend.
It was Noah who had approached and spoken. He was genuinely worried and anxious. It was as if Noah was saying that if they were truly to be friends, he couldn't just let this slide.
In truth, none of that really mattered to Encrid. Even if he recognized the sincerity, he had no intention of listening to Noah’s advice.
"I don't have the eye to recognize grand tactics, but I know this is a problem that cannot be solved by tactics alone," Noah spoke again, his tone neither fast nor slow.
He wasn't wrong. Even the man known as the Unnamed Crusader had said something similar. Winning the battle of the elite few would be ideal. But even if they somehow held out, if the army advanced, the monastery could not be protected. If the paladins tied down their elite forces while the army launched a direct assault, those destined to die would die. It was painfully obvious. Furthermore, hadn't they said the ones standing at the front were more than capable of doing exactly that?
Of course, that had been thwarted, starting with Ropode, Pel, and Teresa, and culminating in Ragna’s slashing. Not that Noah could have known. At that moment, it hadn't even happened yet.
"We could lose, and we could die."
Encrid acknowledged Noah’s words. He spoke because he understood the meaning behind them, putting aside any tactical considerations. No guarantee of victory meant they could die, and they could lose. It was like dancing on the edge of an uncertain and perilous cliff.
"Then why go this far?"
Noah was a man who, originally, had only wanted to save the children. His eyes were remarkably clear. Within them was a light that could never be found in the eyes of worldly priests.
Encrid pondered the question "why" for a moment. Was it the bravado he could display because he would repeat today even if he died?
It was nothing of the sort. In moments of crisis, Encrid forgot about the curse. That was what the Ferryman admired most about him. For he was a madman who walked solely toward tomorrow.
"Why does a peddler set out on a journey when they could be struck by lightning and die along the way? It’s the same as that."
Since it wasn't something he needed to agonize over, Encrid answered kindly. To Noah, it sounded like a koan—a riddle used to decipher scriptures and seek truth. But unlike a koan, the meaning was clear.
‘If you fear tomorrow, you cannot set out on the road.’
Therefore, if one feared losing, they could not hold a sword. If they feared death, they would never have dreamed of becoming a knight. Naturally, if they feared the dreams that lay beyond, they would have to turn back. For those dreams were far too arduous to achieve.
"Even if I were to run away here, what would happen when a similar situation arises in the future?" Encrid said.
His tone was as calm as ever. Because he spoke so casually, anyone watching would naturally feel a deep conviction that this man would never run away.
Turn back once, and you can turn back twice. Rationalize your actions with an excuse once, and you can easily do it again. A single mistake does not decide everything. It was simply that he loathed failing to act when an opportunity to set things right was right before him.
An uncertain tomorrow lay before Encrid. Yet, things he couldn't even attempt in the past due to his lack of strength were now within his power. He was profoundly glad of that. Truly.
It was a passing thought that had surfaced after briefly watching Ropode’s performance, Ragna’s slashing, and Audin stepping forward. To be precise, it was a thought triggered by the person now standing before him.
Didn't they say there were only two paladins?
It was the man holding a halberd. He wore clanking steel boots.
Instead of waiting for his opponent to approach, Encrid stepped forward first. Seeing this, the man took off his helmet and set it aside. It was an iron helmet with a visor. In a fight against a knight, it could obstruct one's vision, making it disadvantageous to wear, but that wasn't the reason he had removed it.
"Do you prefer not to wear a helmet? It would be best to match conditions, then. I suppose our armor can be considered similar enough?"
He was trying to balance the scales. In other words, he wanted to fight under similar conditions.
Watching him, Encrid felt a sense of dissonance. His tone, attitude, and aura were naturally captured by Encrid’s Sixth Sense, giving off a strange impression. Despite his words about matching conditions, the man before him felt like someone who would do absolutely anything if it gave him an advantage.
He seemed like a hypocrite whose inside did not match his outside.
"If that's the case, shouldn't we start by changing our weapons?" Encrid spoke. It was half-jest. He was suggesting that if they wanted to achieve balance, they should start with similar weapons.
After all, it certainly wasn't because of dust in his eyes that the weapon in the man’s hand looked like an Imprinted Weapon.
"Changing weapons is excessive. An Imprinted Weapon is like another self. I cannot discard myself to fight."
The opponent rejected the idea instantly, his tone suggesting it wasn't even worth considering. He looked to be around Encrid’s age. Since that was just his outward appearance, he was likely quite young.
After all, Encrid had been blessed with bonus points from the Goddess of Fortune in the looks department, making him appear far younger than he was. It hadn't been this extreme when he was twenty, but now that he was past thirty, people often mistook him for being ten years younger.
Age aside, he was clearly a formidable opponent. For talent was entirely separate from character. He had known this truth even before becoming a knight, even before he began repeating today.
"May I ask you something?"
For some reason, his manner of speaking resembled that of an old man.
Ah, or maybe it's just steeped in condescension.
Encrid didn't pay it much mind. It wasn't as if they were here to have a battle of words anyway.
"Ask."
"Why did you step forward?"
Ah, this question again.
Hearing the words that followed, it was clear his opponent’s reason for asking wasn't the same as Noah’s. It didn't seem to be a question of why he was risking his life in an uncertain battle, but rather one of pure curiosity.
"There is no profit in this, is there?"
The Constellation of the Scales says that something must be placed on the opposite side of the scale. Therefore, if his opponent was risking his life to fight here, there had to be something of equal weight on the other side of the scale. Whether it was monetary gain or something else.
The wielder of the halberd was simply curious about that.
Encrid nodded upon hearing the question. He did have a second reason, one he hadn't quite been able to tell Noah.
Although he hadn't come here calculating profits as the halberd-wielder suggested, it wasn't as if there was nothing to gain. Aside from saving people, there was also a reward of sorts to this battle. It could be considered a minor benefit, but to put it simply, he could gain experience.
Ever since becoming a knight, Encrid had realized that fighting opponents or monsters of equal or greater strength was of immense help in improving his skills. Wasn't that exactly how he had learned and mastered things while cutting down the Walking Fire?
But that was merely a minor benefit. There was a reason that took precedence over even that. A reason that, if Noah heard it, would make him look at Encrid as if he were a complete lunatic.
Calculating profits required calculation, and calculating things simply didn't suit his nature.
"Because it seemed like it would be fun."
Encrid replied. At his words, the opponent tilted his head. It was a gesture filled with confusion, as if asking what on earth that meant.
Fun? Why does that matter? You risk your life for something like that?
This disconnect arose because the paths the two of them had walked were so vastly different. As Encrid walked toward tomorrow, he felt a thrill akin to the joy of growth. Didn't that very thrill drive him to swing his sword until the moment of his death?
At least, it did for Encrid.
Thus, the appearance of a strong foe was a source of pure joy. In other words, while stepping forward for Noah’s sake certainly stemmed from a desire to save people and protect his monastery, it was also driven by his own personal interest.
That was also why a smile played on Encrid’s lips, even though an unexpected opponent had stepped forward.
"Is that why you were smiling?" the opponent asked.
"Yeah."
Once again, Encrid nodded.