Chapter 663: The Price and the Gift
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 663: The Price and the Gift
Azpen and the Theocracy had both attempted to mass-produce knights through shortcuts, only to discover that such methods had undeniable limits.
To an ordinary soldier, a knight created through a shortcut was still a walking disaster, but they could never hope to match a true knight who had walked the proper path.
Although Encrid was unaware of these underlying political circumstances, he had instinctively chosen the orthodox approach. He had vaguely guessed the truth, but it wasn't something he needed to concern himself with.
He moved according to the theories he had built upon the path he had already tread.
Ropode and Pel stared at him, their mouths pressed into thin, tight lines.
"If I ask you again, will your answer be the same?" Encrid asked. It was always right to reaffirm one's resolve before the point of no return.
"Yes. I want to become one," Ropode answered plainly.
"Even if you ask three times, the answer won't change. If you're worried about talent—well, yes, from your perspective, that might be a concern. But I won't stop here either," Pel added.
While Pel seemed a bit indignant, Encrid simply nodded as if the boy's attitude didn't matter.
Ropode clenched his teeth. He might have been outmatched by Pel in the art of provocation, but he had no intention of falling behind in this. If there was a path to becoming a knight, he would take it. He would endure any training thrown his way.
Ropode's resolve burned with the intensity of a star.
Pel was no different.
I have talent too. Not as much as the Captain, but it's there.
They said the Idol Slayer was a sword that would eventually consume its master. Yet, the reason he held this blade was because he believed he could overcome it. He would prove it. Would the Shepherd of the Wilderness stop at a place like this?
Perseverance and self-control were the fundamental virtues of a shepherd. His resolve was more than enough.
Anyone could see it. Encrid calmly organized his thoughts and spoke.
"Put down your swords."
"...What?" Ropode, who had been tensed for a fight, blinked at the sudden command.
"Disarm yourselves," Encrid repeated.
From those two words, the pair felt a vague, chilling sense of foreboding. Pel and Ropode briefly exchanged glances. Bare-handed training? The Isolation Technique? They had already practiced those things often.
Meanwhile, even though it was still early morning, Anne entered the training ground.
"Why did you call a busy person here?" she asked.
"I called you to do your job."
"I wonder what on earth you're planning to do this time."
Following Anne, Seiki arrived as well, her steps light and springy. Beside her was the Ragged Saint.
"If I instruct them, their skills will improve much faster," the Saint remarked.
Instruct them in what?
"Let me try first," Seiki replied.
Try what first?
Questions flooded Ropode and Pel's minds simultaneously.
Audin walked up to Encrid's side, carrying a massive iron club. It only looked small because it was in Audin's hands; in reality, the weapon was thicker than an average man's forearm. And Audin wasn't the only one armed—Rem held one too.
"I opposed this," Luagarne’s voice drifted over.
"Since I've decided to walk a different path..." Teresa chimed in as well.
Ropode felt the same sinking intuition he’d had as a child when his mother called his name after finding the bedsheets he had wet and tried to hide.
This is bad.
Pel felt the same. He was reminded of his shepherd days, specifically the moment he got caught stealing the aged cheese the elder had been saving.
This is really, really bad.
The blades of intuition in both of them were razor-sharp.
"Since you said your resolve is sufficient, if you try to run, we'll just beat you and drag you back. Ragna, Sachsen."
"Will do," Ragna replied.
"I'll make sure not to sever their ankles," Sachsen added.
Their voices came from behind. The retreat was cut off. Ropode looked back and made eye contact with Ragna. He knew very well how merciless Ragna was during sparring, yet the man was looking at him with something resembling pity.
"Sir Ragna?"
"Just accept it," Ragna said, ignoring the question.
Pel saw that if he didn't act now, there would be no other chance.
"Run!" he shouted, but it was already too late. What could they possibly do in a place where the core members of the Mad Knights were gathered?
Soon, the two laid down their weapons and stood before Encrid, stripped of everything except a single layer of thin clothing—even their boots were gone.
Rem, gripping his club, grinned. "Ah, man, I really hate doing this kind of thing. I hate it so much I'm dying of reluctance, but I guess there's no choice."
"It is for the sake of you two brothers," Audin chimed in.
"We will start by beating your entire bodies," Encrid said.
"...What did you just say?" Pel asked, his voice cracking as he denied reality.
"Audin."
"Yes, brother. I am ready."
The foundation of everything lay in drawing Will from the subconscious. If they were beaten across their entire bodies, they would eventually manage to manifest it. Encrid believed so. And if they were beaten to the very brink of death, the effect might be even better.
"Holy shit, is everyone here insane?" Pel rebelled once more.
Ropode simply bowed his head and resigned himself to his fate. In that moment, Encrid clearly saw the difference in their temperaments. Ropode, after calculating the odds, realized early on that this was unavoidable, while Pel knew it intuitively but was simply stuck in denial.
Thwack!
"Ack!"
With a single blow, the strength drained from Pel's legs. It was a terrifyingly delicate strike. Rem had trained with spiteful determination to defeat Encrid; his control of force was perfect.
Audin was an experienced hand who regularly beat Encrid's body during their own sessions. He was beyond used to this kind of work; he was a master of it.
The club swung through the air with a heavy whoosh and struck Ropode's shoulder.
Crack!
"Argh!"
A groan-mixed scream burst from Ropode's mouth. Subsequently, the clubs rained down upon the bodies of the two Associate Knights. After beating them for a while, Rem spoke up.
"Isn't this just establishing corporal punishment rather than establishing a system?"
It was just like Rem to finish the beating before speaking his mind. He wasn't exactly wrong.
Say that before you beat us, you barbarian bastard, Ropode and Pel thought in unison for a brief, agonizing moment.
The next day, and the day after that, the routine continued.
"There's always a spot for you if you want," Encrid offered to Teresa, who was standing to the side.
"I'm fine," Teresa declined without missing a beat.
It wasn't because she lacked resolve. She just couldn't bring herself to say it, but she had already found her own path. Besides, her method was vastly different from theirs. The beating was intended to enhance their individual senses; since she already possessed that awareness, she had no need for the club.
After the sessions, Encrid guided them along the path. It wasn't simple advice like "slash harder," but the kind of wisdom that could only be spoken by someone who had truly climbed from the foot of the mountain to its peak. Moreover, it was the advice of a man who had cleared the brush and set up signposts along the way.
"Are you trying to counter Pel's brilliant move in the same way? Block it in your own way," Encrid said to Ropode, before turning to Pel. "You're the same. Don't try to predict Ropode's calculations to read a move ahead. Don't predict—flip the board itself. Whether you use your physical abilities or pull out an unexpected trick, whatever the means, do that."
The point was this: "There's no need to force a bow into the hands of someone who's good with a sword."
Rem, listening from the side, nodded. "That's true. That's why I gave axes to all my squad members. Axes suit them."
It was a bit of a stretch, but he wasn't wrong. Rem's squad members were men with breakthrough power so great they seemed reckless on the surface.
Even Ragna, Audin, and Sachsen listened intently to Encrid's words.
Sure-kill, Sustain, and Versatility. Broadly speaking, they were divided into three categories, and then further split into the Technique type and the Training type.
For now, it seems more appropriate to divide them by instinct and calculation.
Or perhaps instinct and calculation could be included as sub-types. No theory was perfect. Encrid simply believed that if he corrected them one by one, it would eventually become a path.
"Is this for real?" Pel asked, his body a map of purple bruises.
Even without being influenced by elves, Encrid was a straightforward person—especially when there was no need to lie.
"No."
"Then why?"
"I just believe it will work."
Pel ground his teeth with a grating sound. "Just wait until I get stronger than you."
The resentment in those words was no less than that of a formidable evil spirit. If Pel were to die right now, a vengeful ghost capable of devouring demons might be born.
Vengeance type? No, that's not it, Encrid thought, shaking his head inwardly.
Ropode, after resigning himself with infinitely gloomy eyes, reignited his resolve. In Encrid's eyes, although Ropode appeared calm on the outside, he possessed a fierce competitive streak.
Perhaps temperaments can be classified by personality.
That was also the basis of the Training type and Technique type he had categorized. That was why Pel spent time mastering techniques, while Ropode spent more time conditioning his body. Neither was necessarily superior. Ropode, disliking ostentation, was steadfast and honest, while Pel, who openly boasted of his talent and loved to show off, was deeply absorbed in the technical aspects.
Their swordsmanship is represented by instinct and calculation.
They were the perfect test subjects. It was a coincidence, but their temperaments were polar opposites, and they were highly conscious of each other. Even if the training they were doing now didn't serve as a direct signpost to becoming a knight, something would still remain.
At the very least, they'll be able to use Iron Armor.
Normally, that was a technique that could only be used after reaching the rank of a knight.
But they must use it at the level of an Associate Knight.
Foresight, Iron Armor, Strong Legs—all of them.
Only when they can do that will they be able to use Will subconsciously.
It was the path to becoming a knight. No, it was a prerequisite. It could even be called the basics. Encrid was learning while teaching. Furthermore, these two had already met some of the conditions to a certain extent.
Except for Iron Armor.
So, he just had to fill in the blanks. Foresight could be learned or skipped depending on one's temperament, but they still needed to know the basics. What they needed in addition were Strong Legs and Iron Armor.
Strong Legs was the technique that had left the deepest impression on Encrid. How could he forget that moment on the battlefield when he first saw an Associate Knight kick off the ground and burst forward? Ropode and Pel also knew how to use Strong Legs, but they weren't proficient, so he helped them train in this aspect as well. After all, it was something that would eventually happen if they trained until their thigh muscles burst and repeatedly conditioned themselves.
For some reason, Ropode made a request midway through. "I would like to pass this special training method down to the squad members under my command."
Encrid thought that while he didn't yet know if this conditioning method was a definitive system for creating knights, it was certainly a method that would benefit everyone.
At this level...
It was only at the entry level compared to the intensity of his own training. Sharing was the way to build a system and raise the overall strength of the group. Unintentionally, that was the very path the Border Guard Standing Army was walking—though, at this point, they weren't even called the Standing Army anymore, but rather the Mad Unit.
"If there is a system, you can know the path. Then, even if you cannot surpass talent, you can at least chase after it," Encrid spoke, reflecting on the meaning of his own words.
In any case, it was a matter of time. To some, it could be an incredibly tedious process. But Encrid simply went about it calmly, as if repeating today over and over. This was Encrid's specialty.
*
"You don't look bored, but how about sparring with me too?"
It was on one of those days that Esther appeared at the dawn training session in her human form. Sparring against a mage was of a slightly different nature, but Encrid was interested. There was no reason to refuse. When he nodded, Esther told him to head out immediately.
"Audin, I leave today's training to you."
"Of course, brother."
Encrid left Ropode and Pel in Audin's care. Esther wore her usual robe and held a long staff. It was his first time seeing her hold a staff, which had only happened after Encrid had picked up an Apostle's staff a while ago and gifted it to her. She had mentioned using some of the metal from the staff for herself and breaking off another piece to bring to Eitri.
"I received this well. So, what we're doing now is something like the price for it," Esther said as they left the city.
Encrid felt as though Esther was acting a bit embarrassed, but since such an attitude was highly unfitting for a witch, he dismissed it as his imagination. Reading the emotions of an elf or a witch was no easy task.
The two headed straight toward the vicinity of the mountain range. Along the way, a soldier at a tower-shaped outpost recognized them and saluted.
"Keep up the good work," Encrid said as he passed, while Esther walked by without sparing a glance.
"Do you remember how to deal with a mage?"
"Yeah. If you see one, slash them first."
"Now, from here on, is how to deal with a prepared mage."
Hm?
Along with Esther's words, Encrid felt a sense of detachment. Suddenly, she felt as if she were not right beside him, but miles away. At the same time, Encrid suddenly saw a mud giant grabbing at his feet. Only its hands, head, and shoulders protruded from the ground, clutching at his ankles.
Confusing the senses and binding the feet. It was a simple tactic, but highly effective. Encrid reacted the moment he perceived it.
First, he severed the wrists of the mud giant holding his feet. Penna emitted a pale blue light as it sliced through the summoned creature. With a splat, the mud should have scattered into the air and vanished, but instead, it clumped together in midair and transformed into a net.
This is unexpected.
Foresight did not activate. The opponent was a mage—those who pursued change. Therefore, this was only natural.
"Magic always desires change. If that change is read by the opponent, you might as well put down your staff and quit. Ah, though making it so they can't block it even if they know is also quite fun," Esther's voice echoed from somewhere.
Instead of replying, Encrid swung Penna. He kept both feet planted on the ground, watching the incoming net. Encrid drew upon the sensation he had felt when slashing the Walking Fire.
Should I dodge? No, I won't.
If Esther demanded unexpected changes, he would maintain his tactical position by absorbing the blow while maintaining the status quo as much as possible. Magic and spells also had a texture. If he had to describe it, it was like a scent smelled for the first time. Invisible, yet existing. Existing, yet difficult to express.
But because he could perceive it, he would be able to grasp its texture. This was the result of slashing spells and enduring through countless "todays."
Instead of moving recklessly, Encrid repeatedly drew lines with his right arm, slashing the spell with his sword. The net, which had transformed from mud into a sticky spiderweb, was sliced apart. Penna's cutting power was not useless just because the target was a spell.
Esther continuously chanted and cast.
Indeed.
Through observation, she realized the truth. Ever since he slashed the Walking Fire, Encrid had become able to see the texture of spells. He reflexively pierced and tore through the gaps in the mana. Because of that, most magic did not work on him.
Spell Severing.
If he developed it a bit further, even spell suppression would be possible.
A non-mage suppressing mana?
The sparring they were doing now was helping him achieve just that. If this man were to become an enemy, she would be teaching him a fatal countermeasure, but she didn't particularly care. Of course, other witches or mages would be horrified if they saw this, but Esther would rather criticize them instead.
Suppose there is a technique to sever spells. Then they should research spells that can overcome it, so why on earth would they try to block the spread of knowledge? They were fools, all of them. She knew there were those who had fought for such reasons over countless years, but Esther thought it was none of her business.
Encrid sparred with Esther once a week, and it was around the time rumors began to spread within the barracks that the Black Flower had won.
"The Gold Witch has returned."
Around the time spring was in full bloom, Sinar returned.
"I brought a gift, fiancé."
Her reputation as the Gold Witch remained unchanged. Her blonde hair and green eyes stared straight at Encrid. Without hesitation, she spoke of the gift and presented Naidel.