Chapter 649: How to Break the Limit
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 649: How to Break the Limit
The Eitri in his illusion spoke.
"Are you serious?"
It was a short but heavy question—something the real Eitri would never actually say.
Even if I have to use another sword for a little while...
On the surface, the real Eitri would act as if it were nothing, only to later diligently hone his skills to forge something even more magnificent. Encrid figured this would stimulate Eitri just as much as seeing a new swordsmanship style would.
"The sword's name is Penna. In the continental tongue, it means something like 'feather' or 'leaf.'"
As he spoke, Lafratio's gaze drifted toward Encrid's waist. Specifically, he was looking at Spark.
"You won't be able to use that anymore. Hand it over."
Was it a stroke of perfect timing, or had he prepared this knowing exactly what would happen? It seemed closer to the latter.
Encrid had not just broken his Truesilver sword; he had shattered it. Spark, too, had cracked down the middle. He hadn't realized it while awakening and utilizing the Wave-Blocking Swordsmanship, but once the battle was over, he found that none of his weapons were intact.
The attacks of the orange-glowing demon had been that intense. It had closed in like a flash of light and struck down like lightning.
By alternating between high-speed thinking and Thought Partitioning, he had managed to manifest the Wave-Blocking Sword to block the onslaught. However, in the process, he hadn't just worn out his Truesilver sword; he had also drawn Spark whenever necessary to use as a makeshift shield. As a result, none of the weapons in his hands had survived.
And I lost Fortune when leaving the Labyrinth.
Fortune had oxidized—sacrificed itself—to save Sinar's life. They said the blade had literally burned black and scattered like ash. He hadn't seen it himself, having passed out immediately after blocking the attack.
He realized anew just how great of a blessing Fortune had been.
Encrid quietly unfastened Spark and handed it over. Lafratio took it and set it down gently to one side. He learned later that Spark, too, was an item that had once passed through Lafratio's hands.
"How is it?"
Lafratio asked in an emotionless tone, but Encrid caught a glimpse of anticipation beneath the surface.
Penna, the feather.
It was a sword that perfectly suited its name. When he gripped the hilt, it fit snugly in his hand. The blade curved gently and was single-edged. Lafratio plucked a strand of his own hair and let it fall onto the blade. With a soft shrrk, the hair parted silently.
"In terms of sharpness alone, it is the Prinke—the finest—among the weapons I have made."
Lafratio spoke, translating the Elven word into the continental tongue. True to his words, the blade was sharper than any sword Encrid had ever seen.
"It requires no maintenance, either. Vital energy maintains the blade's sharpness. The metal of the sword, Moonlight Silver, was forged by carving Truesilver that holds the moonlight with vital energy."
Silver that held the moonlight was the highest grade of Truesilver—a metal that wasn't just hard to find, but practically legendary.
"It's almost too good. At this level, wouldn't this be considered a treasure even within the city?" Encrid asked.
It was his honest impression. The blade's length was less than two spans of a palm, so it could hardly be considered a primary weapon, but depending on how it was used, it could be highly versatile.
"I am giving it to you precisely because it is a treasure."
His tone suggested he was merely stating the obvious.
And Lafratio was not the end of it. The Elves, whom Encrid had thought were busy preparing for their migration over the past few days, had also been busy preparing gifts for their idol.
"He gave you Penna? He used to say he'd hold onto that even when he died."
As Encrid was receiving the sword from Lafratio, a Dryas entered the heat-filled forge. She tapped the ground lightly with only her toes as she walked, her steps appearing incredibly light. Watching her, one couldn't help but think of leaves fluttering in the wind. She was the female Dryas he had seen in the clearing before.
She smiled brightly, leaning in with eyes like green jewels. Even her pupils glowed green, radiating an otherworldly beauty distinct from Sinar's.
"Because I didn't die when it was time to die," Lafratio said as she approached. He meant that he had survived when everyone thought he would be swallowed by the demon and the Demon Realm.
Contrary to the Dryas's teasing, Lafratio showed no sign of regret. If anything, he seemed pleased that Encrid had accepted it.
"We have something to give you too," the Dryas said.
According to what Encrid had heard while talking with Sinar, the Dryas had a stronger concept of 'we' rather than 'I'. Apparently, the powder-sprinkling fairies were similar, while the Woodgards and other Elves had a stronger sense of individuality. That was just how Elven society was, though it wasn't something he needed to know in detail.
"Let's go."
The Dryas tugged at Encrid's hand. Luagarne, who had followed behind them, puffed out her cheeks in amusement and said, "Your charm is truly shining."
"I heard rumors that you've gone beyond breaking hearts and are now being called a bride-snatcher."
At Pel's subsequent remark, Encrid turned his gaze toward him. The shepherd met his eyes directly. Encrid's enhanced insight weighed the truth of Pel's words. Then, he noticed Pel's eyes darting to the side.
Several factors aligned in his mind, clues overlapping to reveal the truth. The rumor about being a bride-snatcher was being spread by Pel.
"Stop spreading strange rumors," Encrid said. His voice carried absolute certainty, and perhaps even a subtle trace of Will.
"...How did you know?"
Pel didn't even attempt an excuse. He hadn't spread the rumor for any particular reason, either. Shepherds were naturally a mischievous sort who enjoyed teasing people with lies and tall tales. There was a reason the fable of the shepherd boy tricking people with cries of "wolf" existed.
Until now, his true nature had been hidden because he had no reason to use it and no one to deceive, but now it was simply slipping out. He didn't mean anything by it; it was just that the Elves fell for it so easily, and he found watching their reactions highly entertaining.
"Your moves are easy to read."
As Encrid looked at Pel, another thought occurred to him, separate from the knightly standards he had recently established. He couldn't put it into words just yet, but a certain thread of thought seemed to take shape.
"Even if you can read my moves, it doesn't matter if you can't block them," Pel said defiantly.
"Prove it in a sparring match," Encrid replied, before following after the Dryas.
After crossing a few narrow paths, a small stream came into view. It was fascinating to see a stream flowing inside the city. Once they crossed the stream, an area lush with leaves—which had been invisible just moments before—revealed itself. A warm breeze blew, making it hard to believe it was winter, and butterflies and bees could be seen fluttering about.
"You wear this under your armor."
At the gesture of the Dryas who had brought Encrid, two other Dryas, a head shorter than her, brought over a large leaf. When they unfolded it, their gift was revealed.
Dryas wove leaves from a special tree to make thread. They would soak this thread in Woodgard sap for days, pull it out, and dry it in the moonlight. Repeating this process for years yielded a single skein of material known as Elven thread.
What they had given him was a garment woven from that very thread. Specifically, it was a type of inner armor to be worn underneath.
Krais would lose his mind if he saw this.
It was an item one couldn't even catch a glimpse of for a gold coin or two. Just as humans categorized the same fabric into various forms, Elven thread was not of a single type. What the Dryas handed him was made from the strongest threads among them.
It was in the form of a vest, protecting the torso while leaving the limbs free. Even a light flick of his finger revealed it was as sturdy as chainmail woven from steel.
"It's resistant to fire, and since it's not metal, it won't rust. It's imbued with vital energy, so most evil spirits will be terrified just by looking at it."
Elven vital energy was synonymous with life force. That life force was the natural antithesis of evil spirits. There was a reason the Elves had lived so peacefully on the outskirts of the continent, rarely suffering from monster attacks.
He realized anew: Using vital energy itself deters most monsters from approaching.
But now, they were being targeted by entities that could not be deterred merely by possessing vital energy. If they could not protect themselves, they had to seek the protection of others. That was the reality of the situation.
Though he didn't actively seek to know, the situation naturally became clear to him, the cause and effect organizing themselves in his mind.
To ask for help, they had to cast aside their pride. However, if Ermen, who led the council, made such a decision alone, it would spark internal backlash. Then the migration would fall through. Trying to persuade every stubborn Elf one by one would take too long. They had almost been devoured by the demon due to their slow response, but a race's fundamental nature and traits could not vanish overnight.
Yet, moving too hastily would only cause trouble. What plan could quiet all this resistance?
He felt he knew the answer.
Is this Sinar's scheme? Or is it Ermen's?
Encrid had received countless gifts and had become an idol to the Elves. In one corner, some Elves had even begun carving stone statues of Encrid. Children carried these small statues as protective talismans. Though it might be short-lived, carrying an Encrid figurine had become a trend—a natural thing to do.
And for the Elves, this was a logical choice.
They need someone to rely on, but they cannot entrust themselves to just anyone.
An ally who is trustworthy, someone they can lean on. By idolizing that person, they could preemptively suppress any discontent that might brew within. It was a way to quiet dissent.
Humans build a fire and utilize it, while Froks will merely watch when a fire breaks out. Giants will fight the fire, and Dwarves will heat iron in it. Beastmen avoid fire, and Dragonkin ignore it.
And Elves... pour water over it before the fire even starts.
It was a proverb describing how each race reacted when something occurred. Elves were always preparers. That was likely how they had managed to survive while avoiding the Demon Realm all this time. They hadn't survived just by relying on vital energy; their conduct and diplomacy had played a part as well. It was no different now.
Encrid had designated their migration area, but even if he hadn't, the Elves would have found a way to secure his aid. It felt like a subtle, sophisticated lure. Elves did not lie. Therefore, they would rather say nothing at all, speaking neither lies nor truths.
Amusingly, perhaps because he had been thinking so much lately, this realization also seemed to connect with something he had recently awakened. Though, once again, nothing concrete came to mind immediately.
And he saw it as something to praise rather than criticize. Encrid felt he also understood what Ermen truly wanted. His desire was not the prosperity of his race, but its survival. In that regard, he was truly an admirable Elf.
After returning from receiving various gifts, the admirable Elf, Ermen, was waiting in front of Encrid's lodging.
"The preparations for the migration are nearing completion. Will you travel with us?"
"I think it would be better if I go ahead and you follow. If people see trees walking, some might mistake them for monsters and panic."
Ermen had previously explained how the Elven city migrated. Encrid kept that clearly in mind. It was a vastly different method from a human migration, which involved loading pots and pans onto wagons.
"Ah, humans might indeed be frightened."
Encrid thought about telling him that rather than being frightened, there were a few bastards who would charge right in, but he decided against it. It wasn't particularly important.
Encrid looked at Ermen's calm demeanor and spoke.
"Whose idea was the idolization?"
Even though he asked abruptly without any context, Ermen replied without showing any sign of fluster.
"I came up with the idea, and Sinar actively pushed it forward."
Encrid realized Ermen was more cunning than he appeared. Conversely, Ermen also realized this man was not just someone skilled with a sword. And this actually put Ermen more at ease.
Wasn't it much better that the person their clan had to rely on from now on wasn't some axe-wielding madman who split people's heads open? According to what Sinar had said, there was indeed such a fellow in the Border Guard. He had even heard of someone who got lost and ended up slaying an enemy knight.
To an Elf, such people were incomprehensible. In truth, even humans probably didn't understand the actions of the madmen in that division. But when living alongside others, one didn't necessarily have to understand them. It was enough to simply accept them. The Elf Ermen held that exact mindset.
"Well then."
The migration preparations would take several months. Before that, only a portion of them decided to set out first.
It's better to move while preparing for danger rather than going all at once.
There would be monsters and demonic beasts along the way, but given the Elves' military strength that he had seen so far, they wouldn't pose a major threat.
If anything, the neighboring territories will be shocked when they see this migration procession.
In any case, before the migration officially began, Encrid left the city first.
"My fiancé, why are you leaving without even making a child?"
Sinar's farewell was quite memorable.
"Does it amuse you to say things like that?" Encrid asked back.
Sinar's goodwill toward her savior was as vast as the ocean. She nodded, her face full of affection.
"Very much so."
As Encrid prepared to depart, the Elves stopped what they were doing and gathered to see him off. Some of them handed him letters, while others gave him neatly prepared fruits to eat on the road.
"How dare you flirt with my fiancé?"
Sinar scolded them in a completely flat, monotone voice. Of course, she wasn't actually angry. The crowd of Elves listening didn't even twitch an ear.
"Isn't the one who wins him in the end the true victor, Kirhais?"
One of the Elves boldly threw down a challenge, but it was all just Elven humor. Encrid gave up trying to understand as he listened.
"See you later."
Since Sinar was to join the next migration wave, this was a temporary farewell. Aside from Luagarne and Pel, Zero joined them as a guide. His skills had improved tremendously in a short period. In particular, his ability to utilize emotion in combat was superior to any Elf.
When emotional turmoil arose, instead of faltering, he used even those emotions to fight. It was easier said than done, and executing it physically was testament to his exceptional talent. Of course, Encrid's guidance had played a part as well.
Encrid set off, and after walking for a while, he spoke, sharing what he had learned and realized with Luagarne. On the surface, it might have seemed like casual conversation to pass the time on a tedious journey, but of course, it was not.
"I see."
Luagarne nodded, then spoke again.
"You want something."
This Frok was incredibly quick-witted.
"Yes. A Frok with the Talent-Reading Eye must have established a certain system within it, right?"
Froks saw limits. Because they saw limits, they could define a clear end. Defining the end allowed them to know the beginning, and knowing both the beginning and the end allowed them to subdivide what lay in between.
It was true. The Frok's Talent-Reading Eye possessed a system.
"Teach it to me," Encrid said.
Establishing the system of a knight was not the end. Luagarne caught another glimpse of the sheer greatness of the man standing before her. His thirst for learning—that was undoubtedly one of the forces driving him. If he had been a Frok, he would have jumped into a pit of fire if it meant learning something, even knowing it would kill him.
If he were a Frok...
Since they wouldn't die unless 'that' triggered, he would have lived pushing his body to the absolute limit without a care. Come to think of it, that wasn't much different from how he lived now.
"I will," Luagarne replied readily.
There was nothing to hide or keep secret. The stimulation this man provided had shattered one of the core beliefs Luagarne held.
Limits can be broken.
She herself was proving it with her own body. And listening to the system Encrid had established, a thought occurred to her.
How to break the limit.
That was precisely the path Encrid was walking now.