Chapter 644: Until Entering Eternal Sleep
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 644: Until Entering Eternal Sleep
The exhaustion was bone-deep.
He had fought for two straight days, pushing his body and mind to their absolute limits. He was in no condition to be called normal.
Normally, I would have parried it with ease.
It wasn't that he had let his guard down, nor was he trying to rationalize his failure. It was a review—a habit of his. What should I do if a similar situation arises? Better yet, how do I prevent such a situation from happening in the first place?
The latter was a mindset rooted in the Luagarne-style training method. Since not all Frok thought this way, it was a trait specific to the Luagarne-style. After all, this was a combat philosophy developed by an individual, not an entire species.
The core of his newly acquired Thought Partitioning was what mattered, and one of its primary components was now occupied by Luagarne-style tactical thinking. Encrid developed that thinking further, turning it over in his mind.
A fight begins with positioning.
A spot out of the sun, a spot where the glare won't blind you, or a spot where you face a headwind. It was about seizing even the slightest advantage. It wasn't something to agonize over; the answer came quickly.
If the latter was a combat mindset, the former aligned with Encrid's inherent nature—using deliberation and time as weapons to search for a solution. After a brief review, he reached a conclusion.
There is still room for growth, both in my mind and my body.
Circulating Will throughout the body tempers the flesh. Giving that process a name is what birthed the technique Endure.
It’s just putting a name to a sensation.
By moving Will to withstand impact and pain, one’s skin begins to resemble that of a Giant. That is Iron Armor.
Will strengthens the body.
The person who first created Endure or Iron Armor must have aimed to manifest the hide of a Giant. After making the skin tough, they would have sought to harden the organs, muscles, and tendons.
So, is Will all that is needed?
No. Before one could benefit from reinforcement, the foundation itself had to be solid. In other words, a strong body and mind were required from the very beginning. And that could only be achieved through repetitive training.
Though his current level already surpassed that of an ordinary knight, if desire were a flame, Encrid’s desire raged fiercely enough to burn down a mountain. Thus, his conclusion was simple.
Training.
Only those two words remained. He felt an unprecedented urge to devote himself entirely to practice. Having slain a demon, he might have celebrated or felt satisfied, but there was no trace of such feelings in him.
Inside his mindscape, the world of dreams, the Ferryman read Encrid’s mind. The rippling river water had come to a silent standstill. The Ferryman stared blankly at him and spoke.
"Even now, is training all you can think about?"
"Ah."
Encrid raised his head as if only just noticing the Ferryman. He didn't make a fuss, though.
"Stop pretending you only just noticed me, mortal."
"Ah." Encrid gave a small nod.
"I know you recognized me long ago, yet you pretended otherwise because you were lost in your own thoughts. Do you think I cannot read your intentions within this place?"
"Ahhh."
Having nothing to say, Encrid substituted his reply with an exclamation. He had no intention of mocking him. Fortunately, the Ferryman did not get angry.
"Yes, you are that kind of fellow. I must tell you something important. The blade that struck you was imbued with the demon's will."
"I see."
He nodded without fully understanding. Usually, the Ferryman would stop there, offering no further explanation.
"If you lose to that will... well, we will witness the birth of a new demon."
Yet, for some reason, the Ferryman seemed unusually helpful today, so Encrid asked, "Is it like a curse?"
"A curse? Do you think such a trivial thing would dare affect you?" The Ferryman’s eyes flared. A purple light flashed from his pupils. "There is no curse that would dare touch you."
From the Ferryman’s words, Encrid could deduce a few things. There had indeed been a curse on the blade the demon threw, and the Ferryman had already dealt with it.
"Should I thank you?"
"No need."
Since both of their mindsets fell far outside the norm, they conversed in shorthand, tossing conclusions back and forth. Encrid met the Ferryman’s gaze. Aside from the rough, gray skin, he noticed the sharp, piercing eyes and the high bridge of his nose.
For some reason, his features resembled the shield-bearing warrior he had seen in his dreams. If he had blonde hair and blue eyes, they would look remarkably alike. Enough to be called twins.
"Is that what you look like?"
"So you finally see my face."
"Because it's visible."
Did it mean he had drawn closer to the Ferryman’s existence, or was it the Ferryman’s intention? Encrid had no way of knowing. However, it felt like a mere coincidence. Or perhaps the Ferryman had let his guard down slightly. Even if he asked, the Ferryman wouldn't answer.
"Why did you help me?"
Since he looked identical to that warrior, and it seemed to be the Ferryman who had spoken of the opposite of Walking Fire, Encrid asked.
"If you were trapped in such a 'today,' it wouldn't be any fun to watch," the Ferryman replied. He showed something resembling a smile. Though his mouth merely contorted, making his face look grotesque.
After that brief, hideous smile, the Ferryman continued. "If you do not wish to die, struggle. You wouldn't want to repeat a 'today' like this, would you? I purposely left it open without blocking it. I thought I might enjoy the show."
Behind the Ferryman, something was slithering closer. There were thorns in his words, and his malice was plain to see. While Encrid watched him blankly, the Ferryman finished.
"If you are devoured even once, it will be the end."
Encrid couldn't understand the Ferryman’s words. It was like trying to understand something one hadn't experienced. Encrid blinked. Instantly, the river, the Ferryman, and the lamp vanished. In their place, the demon appeared.
No, it was the demon's form before it was ever called a demon. Even though no one told him, he knew it was the bastard. The demon that had coveted the flesh and blood of Elves.
Originally, he had been an Elf. An Elf who sought to rise higher, beyond merely consuming vital energy. Drunk on desire, the Elf wanted to ascend, even if it meant becoming a demon. Emotions turned into blades, stabbing mercilessly. Who else but Encrid could understand such desperate desire and craving?
"Look at me!"
Memories invaded. The Elf's will approached like a fog, seeping in.
"Behold my life!"
The reason the Elf became a demon—what lay at the very bottom of it? His will was being contaminated. Its color changed and grew muddy. This was what the demon desired.
However, Encrid only gave a passing glance to what the demon showed him. It wasn't that difficult. Ignoring the Ferryman’s words to ponder training methods was not much different from ignoring the life shown by this creature.
The demon struggled desperately. It had to entice its opponent.
"No! Accept my will, and I shall grant you power beyond your wildest imagination! I will grow your Will!"
Encrid had never felt that his Will was lacking.
"I will harden your flesh! I will let you surpass the limits of a human body!"
Audin had said that anything other than eating, drinking, and exercising was a false path. One could build a body with medicine, but a body obtained that way was made of hollow muscles that would wither once the drugs wore off.
When it came to muscle and physical training, Audin never yielded an inch. Even the mad knights respected him on this. Even Rem had left everything to Audin when it came to Encrid building his body.
"You are building up your 'todays.' That is what training is."
Those were Audin’s words. Yes, he had understood and agreed. Was that not why he had carried those damn boulders, taken beatings to his fists, trained his Endure, and clad his body in Iron Armor?
Therefore, the demon's words didn't stand a chance.
The demon's attitude shifted. In his mindscape, a mass of black soot was sweating profusely, speaking in a rush. The soot projected its will to convey its meaning.
"I will grant you the charm to seduce anyone."
He truly had no need for that.
"...Damn it."
The demon uttered its name countless times, but Encrid let it go in one ear and out the other. Perhaps because he knew how to listen intently, he also knew how to ignore completely. Calmly and indifferently, Encrid erased the very existence of the Elf-turned-demon.
Was it said that the Elves did not even give the demon a name to avoid granting it even a shred of power? That was how the Elves treated the demon. Encrid went one step further.
Absolute disregard. The demon had tried to assert its presence through fear, but Encrid was not the kind of man to be swayed by such things.
"Crazy human."
Such was the demon's dying gasp. Having barely paid attention to that either, he quickly forgot it. Feeling light seep in—the opposite of a blackout—Encrid opened his eyes and spoke.
"I slept well."
He woke from his dream. The muscles across his entire body still ached. It wasn't as bad as wandering through a desert, but his throat felt dry.
A reply came to Encrid's words as he sat up. "What do you mean, you slept well?"
It was Luagarne, but his vision was still blurry. After blinking a few times, his sight returned.
"I had a dream, but I can't remember it."
Had the deceased demon somehow overheard this, it would have cursed not just Encrid's parents, but his ancestors as well.
"To think you'd be leisurely talking about dreams."
This time, it was Pel. Encrid looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It seemed to be one of the rooms where the Elves lived. The scent of grass drifted into his nose, and the ceiling was woven from tree branches. Amidst that, a pungent scent pricked his nose.
"The hero is awake," said Bran.
Only then did his surroundings come into focus. Dozens of quiet, silent eyes were watching him. It was a sight that made the room look incredibly cramped. The room was packed with Elves, all of them standing.
"What is everyone doing?" Encrid asked, slightly taken aback. It was a sight that could easily pass for a nightmare.
"We only gathered the Elves who volunteered to pool their vital energy to save you if anything went wrong. It's a bit much, isn't it?" Sinar answered.
The green-eyed Elf was sitting on a chair by the head of the bed. Her tone was cool, as usual. Restrained emotion, with a faint trace of goodwill shining through. Such things were a daily occurrence for Encrid.
"You slept for ten days," Pel added.
"No wonder my body felt so light."
"Do you realize you barely escaped death?"
"No."
Encrid had forgotten the demon that struggled in his dream. He hadn't just forgotten it in words; he had truly and completely banished it to the far corners of his memory. He was then given a brief account of what had happened to him.
They said his eyes had turned red, shedding tears of blood, his nose had bled, and the blood vessels across his entire body had bulged. He had suffered from a high fever, causing his lips to dry and crack. There were still traces of that left; the dried blood scab on his lip was annoying. Yet, considering he had woken up from such a state, his thirst wasn't particularly severe.
"Sinar didn't leave your side for days, feeding you water," said Bran.
Sinar, right beside him, poured water from a wooden bottle and held it in her mouth. With the water still in her mouth, she offered a faint smile, as if explaining exactly how she had fed him. Then, Sinar swallowed the water.
In truth, she had fed him through a specially crafted leaf tube, but there was no way for Encrid to know that.
There were dozens of Elves gathered in this room alone. He also saw the Elf who had guided him before, but he couldn't remember his name. This "today" had been far too long, and because he had poured everything he had into killing the demon, he lacked the mental capacity to remember. He was on the verge of forgetting the path through the Labyrinth as well.
"Um, are you Jorman?" Encrid addressed the Elf who was said to be in charge of the council.
"Who is that? I am Ermen."
To the Elf, it was as if Encrid had forgotten his name in just a few days, but far from showing any displeasure, he corrected him with boundless goodwill. Even without words, it was obvious from the atmosphere he exuded.
Having roughly grasped the situation, Encrid judged that his physical condition wasn't too bad. At that, Sinar stood up. As she rose, the surrounding Elves orderly made way for her.
Sinar Kirhais. In the Border Guard, she was the Gold Witch; here, she was an Elf comparable to a queen. Taking a few steps back to remain within Encrid's field of vision, she knelt down. Then, bowing her head, she spoke.
"I speak on behalf of all Elves. I express my gratitude to you, Encrid of the Border Guard. And with the representatives of every Elven family present here, along with your Frok and squire as witnesses, I shall make my declaration."
"Who are you calling a squire?" Pel muttered, but no one else made a sound louder than a breath.
Whether these words had been agreed upon beforehand, or whether everyone had simply anticipated Sinar would do this, was unclear. Everyone remained silent. Encrid wondered what on earth was happening the moment he woke up, but he held his tongue in the solemn atmosphere.
Sinar offered a smile. It was a smile that made her worthy of being called a golden angel rather than the Gold Witch. Her perfectly symmetrical eyes crinkled, and her pink lips parted.
"Until we enter eternal sleep, whenever you wish, at any time... I shall spar with you."
Encrid felt that Sinar had paused strangely in the middle of her sentence, but he let it slide.
The words Sinar had spoken were the vows of an Elven Holy Matrimony. Originally, they were: "Until we enter eternal sleep, I shall be with you."
But she had modified them.