Chapter 659: The Order of Knights I Wished and Dreamed Of
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 659: The Order of Knights I Wished and Dreamed Of
Hearing Rem’s lecturing, Ragna’s hand twitched, his fingers brushing the grip of his sword. He didn't draw it, however. Cutting the man down now would mean killing an injured opponent. That wouldn't be a victory; it would be no different from a defeat.
‘Not now.’
He could simply kill him once he had healed. Ragna endured.
Sachsen, meanwhile, was briefly contemplating whether he should slit the bastard’s throat before nightfall rather than waiting for dawn.
Stabbing him near the solar plexus with Carmen’s stiletto would be efficient, or failing that, slicing one of his Achilles tendons wouldn't be a bad alternative. Naturally, these were only thoughts. He wouldn't actually kill him. Instead, what if he slipped something into his food? He knew of a medicine that caused endless, non-stop diarrhea.
‘No, drugs won’t work on that bastard’s stomach.’
Westerners had iron guts, and Rem was an extreme case even among them. Even if that weren't the issue, Rem would likely smell the lace before the first bite. Besides, brewing an odorless toxin would take too much effort—a waste to use on a barbarian.
"Lord," Audin called out, his voice devoid of any trace of a smile. The "Lord" he uttered this time was thick with pure rage. It felt as though the God of War might descend at any moment.
A golden light rippled across his body like small waves, rising from his ankles to his chest before fading away.
The scriptures taught to forgive even sinners once they had received their rightful punishment, and to forgive those who erred out of ignorance.
This was clearly the latter. Audin decided to forgive Rem, whose head was severely lacking.
Rem looked satisfied, having achieved his goal. After delivering his "lecture," he spoke in his usual, grating tone.
"Well, the Captain is finally getting fun to play with. Hey, Direction-Challenged, call me Vice-Captain from now on. Big Guy, call me 'brother' instead of 'Brother.' And you, wildcat, just stay out of my sight."
"There is no Vice-Captain," Encrid denied the most problematic part first.
"Ah, is that so? Let's go with that, then." Rem chuckled and nodded, his tone suggesting it didn't matter either way.
Having already held back once, the three of them ignored Rem’s provocations. They had seen it with their own eyes; they knew the sheer power of what Rem had just displayed. And Rem was only the beginning. Everyone here had a hidden trump card up their sleeve.
"It looks like you'll be using up all the medicine made from Dryas's leaves yourself," Anne said, walking over after the sparring—or rather, the natural disaster—had ended. As she spoke, she began applying various ointments to Encrid’s body.
Sachsen watched from the side, occasionally asking questions. Surprisingly, he possessed a deep knowledge of medicine, and the two of them got along quite well.
Watching them while being treated, Encrid noted that their rapport didn't seem bad at all. He asked Sachsen, who was acting surprisingly friendly, "Won't your lover be angry?"
It was a sudden joke about him being too close to Anne, a side effect of Encrid spending too much time around elves. But upon hearing the joke, Sachsen stared blankly at him before tossing out a chilling reply:
"A single poisoned dagger is all it takes. I just need to get close before they can use their swordsmanship."
Encrid fell into thought. He remembered two days ago, when Sachsen had stood behind him and whispered, "Got you."
At the time, Sachsen hadn't said much, so Encrid had only been slightly startled. But hearing him now, the meaning became clear.
‘I wasn't off guard back then. Even if a dagger or an arrow had suddenly flown at me, I would have reacted. I could even hear Odd-Eye snorting from a distance.’
Odd-Eye had stayed nearby for two days after confirming Encrid’s return before finally leaving. As if that was more than enough for a friend, the wolf hadn't rushed over or shown any further signs of intimacy.
‘Everything from Odd-Eye’s movements to the events happening around me was within my range of perception.’
If necessary, or if his intuition had reacted, he would have known. Yet Sachsen had bypassed that entire web of senses, approached him, and tapped him on the back.
‘I gave up my back.’
What if Sachsen had been holding a poisoned dagger?
"It was then."
"It was."
It was a conversation only the two of them understood.
"What are you talking about?" Anne asked, but both men refrained from explaining. There were too many things that couldn't be easily put into words, like the Mu-sal Thrust and the method of invading a domain established by pure senses.
Anne didn't press further. She didn't think she would understand even if she heard it, and frankly, she didn't care. Her only interests were making remedies, compounding medicines to treat every disease, and Ragna.
Encrid fell into deep thought once more.
‘Rem used a sling and prepared something that explodes even if blocked. Sachsen said he could take my back.’
In a way, this was a different form of sparring than the one with Rem, but it was just as fascinating. It was like a children’s game of tag, where they tied a long cloth to their backs and chased each other to grab it.
‘I must not let my back be taken.’
Sparring with Sachsen was meaningless in the traditional sense. Winning meant winning in the domain of senses. Sparring with Rem meant enduring the projectiles he threw. It felt as though both of them were saying the same thing. At least, that was how it sounded to him.
He hadn't been caught yet.
They hadn't said it out loud, but intent didn't always need words to be conveyed. The two of them had crossed a certain line and were moving forward again.
How long had it been since he surpassed them, only for them to turn the tables like this?
Rem was just the beginning. Next was Ragna. As soon as Encrid’s body healed, he clashed with Ragna again.
To put it simply, Ragna was dead serious about shattering the swordsmanship Encrid had painstakingly developed.
Whoosh.
Sparring with Ragna was the polar opposite of sparring with Rem. It wasn't loud, because their blades couldn't even clash.
"How is it?" Ragna asked. An unprecedented joy flickered in his red eyes. He was thrilled.
He remained frozen in his mid-swing posture. Yet, no openings could be seen. An extraordinary quality dwelt within his ordinary sword strike. And that extraordinary quality was visible to the naked eye.
"How did you do that?"
"I did it with all my might."
Hearing this made Encrid feel strangely sorry for the elf Ermen. Was that supposed to be an explanation?
"Does it work just by doing it with all your might?"
"Yes, it does."
Ragna spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Encrid inwardly agreed. If there was nothing else to do but put all his might into it, then that was what he had to do. What other choice was there?
Ragna had momentarily doubled the size of his sword, manifesting something akin to an elven energy blade over his own steel to slash. Sensing instinctively that blocking it would mean death, Encrid had barely managed to dodge.
In other words, this wasn't meant for mere sparring.
"Is this supposed to be sparring?" Encrid asked.
"Do you dislike it?" Ragna countered.
That bastard Rem, that direction-challenged bastard—all of them were unleashing their madness. They hadn't brought techniques to use in a friendly match; they had only brought ways to win.
There were no rules. Nothing was set in stone. There was only the will to move forward, a burning desire for self-improvement.
How could he not find this enjoyable?
"No," Encrid replied flatly.
A smile had already spread across his face. Of course he didn't dislike it. Ragna’s sword was impossible to block and difficult to dodge. It could well be called a sword that cuts through the Wave-Blocking Sword.
‘I need to figure out what he wrapped around that sword to block it.’
Ragna himself didn't seem to know exactly what he had done. To understand it, Encrid would have to dig deep, ask questions, and analyze.
‘Establishing a system.’
It wasn't over yet. In a way, it was only the beginning. No, it was definitely the beginning. Since it was just starting, there would be plenty to do in the future.
Finally, even Audin had brought his own solution. He had copied Encrid’s technique outright.
"It’s a method to block a downpour."
Though his approach differed slightly, he used a technique to completely block and endure the Wave-Blocking Sword. Whenever he lost the battle of wits midway, he simply tanked it with his body. His iron plate armor, coated in divine power, was sturdy enough to block Penna.
But at that moment, Audin also utilized his divine power in a manner similar to the previous two. The golden light condensed, transforming into something like thick leather.
‘He condensed and layered it.’
Will was a formless power. Could it really be condensed just by wishing it so?
Doubt arose, followed by skepticism. But his thoughts shifted immediately.
‘If you think it’s impossible, nothing will happen.’
If you believed it was possible, anything could happen.
The former knight named Aker had infused his Will into his sword to create something akin to a magic sword. What was contained within was a fragment of his own will, which became an ego and manifested its intent inside the blade. It was an application of his specialty, Transfer.
‘Will, sorcery, and divine power can all change.’
Indure was the power to endure, but training it turned it into iron armor. His Will had transformed to protect his body rigidly.
"They say there is a stage that is unyielding and endless, which they call Uske. And they say there is a stage where what one possesses is fundamentally different, which they call Indules. It is the ancient tongue."
Words Luagarne had once spoken came to mind. Her words were merely a repetition of what had been passed down through generations, but reaching this point, Encrid could reflect on them and establish a new understanding.
‘Uske refers to an endless well—the quantity of Will. And Indules...’
It wasn't about quantity, but quality. A Will of a fundamentally different quality. How on earth was he supposed to achieve that?
The road ahead to awaken and understand it seemed endlessly vast. It felt as though the Ferryman would pop out from somewhere to mock and tease him.
"When will you master that? By dying thousands of times like you did before? Wear away and shatter. Trapped in today, broken as you are."
The Ferryman’s mockery didn't matter at all. Encrid was simply thrilled, as always.
‘Indules.’
He possessed Uske and had even manifested it through his swordsmanship. But Indules was an entirely unknown domain.
Thump.
His heart pounded. Joy welled up, making him want to sprint at full speed. His emotions surged like a raging torrent. Excitement and anticipation made him want to run wild.
"...Are you really planning to sleep under the stars? Why do you keep breaking perfectly fine barracks? I don't get it. Well, not that I need to understand. I'll have it rebuilt. Let's make it a bit larger. Until then, stay in the tents. That's fine with you, right?"
Whatever Krais was babbling about beside him didn't register at all.
"Are you listening? I don't think you are. Ah, you're not. Why is this one crazy again?"
Krais turned away, leaving Encrid alone. He had matters to attend to and needed approval, but in this state, Encrid wouldn't hear a word anyway.
Encrid performed three hundred downward slashes right then and there. Deepening his thoughts through simple, repetitive training was an old habit of his. Pondering and contemplating. Looking toward a new destination and dreaming in the process made it impossible not to be happy.
By nightfall, having calmed his excitement slightly, Encrid poured out his honest thoughts to his squad members.
"I mean this sincerely: I think you guys are all insane."
He felt as though he had spoken like Krang, beyond just listening intently. It was a statement delivered with absolute sincerity.
And every single squad member was deeply triggered by those words.
"...I really don't want to hear that from you, Captain. Sincerest truth," Rem said. He didn't flare up, but he spoke more seriously than ever.
"Begone, evil spirit. Lord, cast out the demon dwelling in this man's mind," Audin prayed. He even called Teresa over to sing hymns beside him. Teresa nodded and immediately lent her strength to exorcise the demon possessing Encrid.
"Who is saying that to whom? Did Anne lace your medicine with poison?" Sachsen spoke, noting the traces of zeal and joy visible in Encrid’s eyes.
He couldn't possibly act like this unless he had ingested poison. It was impossible to understand why he was suddenly behaving this way. But come to think of it, this fellow had always been like this. His skills would suddenly skyrocket, and he would suddenly do crazy things.
It wasn't even surprising anymore. However, being lumped into the same category as the barbarian and the rest was rather unpleasant. Sachsen subtly shifted his feet, stepping back while pushing Ropode forward.
"Not me. I'm perfectly sane," Ropode denied, while Pel muttered beside him, wondering if going crazy was also a matter of talent.
Hearing that, Ropode replied, "Yeah, then you're a genius. Because you're already a crazy bastard."
Fierce glares shot back and forth between the two.
Esther, in her panther form, sat on the roof with her chin resting on her paws, watching the scene, while Luagarne was roasting grubs next to a tent pitched near the ruined barracks. Once roasted, they tasted sweeter than honey, so she intended to eat them all by herself without sharing. Not that anyone would ask for them anyway.
Pausing in the middle of roasting the grubs on a wooden skewer, Luagarne puffed out her cheeks and giggled.
"Do you really have to say it out loud?"
She meant whether one had to speak to know, but naturally, no one paid attention to her words. The truth was always bitter, but even that bitterness could be hidden if one didn't speak of it.
"Are you calling me crazy? I don't think so. Well, since these guys did some incomprehensible things when asked to spar, I suppose you could say that."
Ragna’s final remark stirred up quite a commotion.
"Huh? You want to die? The Captain is the arms, but you're the head, you direction-challenged bastard!"
"I just have to cut down something like that before it even reaches me."
"Want to go?"
"Bring it."
Rem and Ragna bickered.
"Stop bullshitting about talent. If you set a limit before you run, you'll only ever run that far."
"Ah, I have limitless talent, so it doesn't matter to me. Is it annoying for you because you don't? It's fine. I understand. I won't comfort you, but I'll pretend not to notice. I won't tell the recruits you're training."
Pel said, mimicking covering his mouth. Ropode flinched at the sight. Why did this bastard become so talkative? His skill at provoking had changed. Originally, he was on par with Ropode, but now he was different.
"Want to die?" Ropode snapped back.
"Ah, there are barely any people in the world who want to die, but was that you?" Pel retorted smoothly.
It was certain. He had improved. The reason? It must be his journey with Encrid. He had learned it on the way back. With this realization, Ropode cast a slightly resentful look at Encrid, but quickly threw such resentment to the dogs. At first, he had wondered why Encrid had taught Pel separately, but thinking about it now, it didn't seem like such a big deal.
He just had to catch up himself.
Luagarne ate her fully roasted grubs, and Sachsen began carving wood he had brought from somewhere. As he shaved the wood with a soft shuck-shuck, thin shavings fell beneath him.
Watching all of this, Encrid chuckled. And a thought occurred to him.
He truly loved this place, this position, and these people. None of them mocked another's dream, and if they felt their skills were lacking, they simply began training. To them, that was only natural. They did not harbor jealousy, nor did they try to win through underhanded means.
To them, that was the norm.
Was it really so natural? How much had he wandered to obtain this? How many people had envied, cursed, and mocked him?
The thought simply crossed his mind: the order of knights Encrid had wished and dreamed of was right here.
Therefore, when asked the following day, "How about walking the path of a Paladin? You must believe in God, in God," he could shake his head with absolute resolve.
"Who did you say he was?"
"You could call him my adoptive father, Brother."
He was the guest who had come to the Border Guard while Encrid had been away in the elven city.