Chapter 665: Blushing Esther
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 665: Blushing Esther
"I just did it, and it worked."
Following Rem’s lead, Ragna uncharacteristically paused mid-sentence. He chewed on his words for a moment, then spoke at length.
He, too, had heard, gained, learned, and realized many things during his time here. He had developed the common sense to realize that swinging a sword with all one's might wasn't the be-all and end-all—unlike a certain someone. Or perhaps he had simply learned the value of consideration.
"You just have to believe in yourself. You chose a path and walked it. If you believe that path is right, you can ignore whatever others babble about it being wrong. Even if the path goes slightly astray, you just have to correct it. For example, say we want to go to Martai from here. We should go this way, but we accidentally head this way instead. If you realize it halfway through, you just have to turn around like this. Then we can get to Martai. That's all it takes. Therefore, the path I walk becomes the right path."
The direction Ragna pointed when he first said "this way" was north.
Then, "accidentally head this way" pointed west. And with the following "turn around like this," his finger ultimately pointed south.
Since Martai was actually to the east, his ability to point out every single direction except the correct one was truly extraordinary.
"That bastard is a marvel. How do you even visit Eitri? No, how do you even find the restroom? It's a miracle you don't get lost on the way."
The latrine was within fifty paces of the quarters. The path leading there was paved with stones—a thoughtful touch. Encrid suddenly had a question.
But when did someone lay those stones, and who did it?
There was no need to think hard.
It must have been Krais.
A guide sign tailored for Ragna, so to speak.
But using the latrine was one thing; Ragna also occasionally ventured out into the city alone.
"What do you mean, how? Do you know how many soldiers he passes by? I've ordered everyone to stick to Ragna's side if it looks like he's heading out," Krais said as he grilled sausages. Juices beaded on the surface like sweat, releasing a savory aroma.
Ah, right. There was Krais.
Rem nodded. That guy was the kind of crazy bastard who would prepare for a meteor falling on the Border Guard tomorrow.
Seriously, not a single normal person here.
Rem shook his head.
"Don't attach soldiers to me. It's annoying," Ragna grumbled.
"Deal with it."
Krais shook his head firmly. He had well and truly adapted to them by now. He was busy enough as it was; trying to cater to each of their whims would make every single day a war.
Whether they should be called order knights or something else, those madmen generally listened to him as long as he didn't cross a certain line. In Krais's eyes, Ragna was the type of person who, if left to his own devices, would end up walking all the way to the Empire. And he might return carrying the sparks of war, since he would likely slash down everyone he laid eyes on.
Not that Rem or Audin were any more normal than Ragna. If left alone, it would be a miracle if Rem didn't beat up the nobles who had recently arrived at the Border Guard, and Audin was no different.
Training the body is all well and good, but why do you have to push it so hard on everyone, Brother Bear?
Krais swallowed his complaints, acting as if it were nothing. Audin would grab anyone he saw and force them to train, and once caught by him, they wouldn't even dare dream of running away. With that massive build of his, smiling and calling people "brother" or "sister"—it was hard not to glimpse the madness in it.
Perhaps because of this, the physical conditioning of the divine unit Audin was in charge of was the best. They lifted rocks every day while weeping. Even during prayer times, they sought God while holding a wall-sit pose. Krais sometimes felt a surge of pity when he looked at them.
Poor bastards.
However, Krais didn't actually find all of this that objectionable. What they gained from the mere presence of Audin, Rem, and Ragna was far greater than the headache they caused. Krais was a man who was satisfied as long as the benefits outweighed the costs.
Sachsen was also present. He didn't seem like the type to offer advice, yet he readily drew everyone's attention. As he spun a dagger in his hand, the whirling blade reflected the light from the campfires lit on either side of the dining table.
"There is no such thing as a 'perfect' person in this world," Sachsen spoke. "It is simply a matter of who is sharper."
It was short but profound advice. Encrid felt those words pierce right into the core of the system he had built.
What beats a perfect circle?
Is becoming an all-rounder and developing well-rounded abilities the ultimate goal? No, even a perfect circle will be punctured if pricked by a sharp needle.
He had experienced it himself today. If he faced Sinar in a mere sparring match, he could win eight times out of ten. But when it came to the Wave-Blocking Sword, Sinar's blade could slip past and strike his shoulder. What she had shown him was that sharp needle.
The Wave-Blocking Sword was not a swordsmanship style swung in a specific form, but a sword that reacted through thought. Sinar had exploited the gap in that reaction.
Energy Blade.
She had hidden an unperceived blade amidst the perceived Energy Blades.
A winter breeze. In winter, biting gales blow, not gentle breezes. In other words, a wind that shouldn't blow in winter had blown.
"Brother, can you calculate everything? Surely not. If so, conversely, if you can out-calculate the opponent in front of you, is there any need to find the correct answer naturally and instantaneously? Does a technique need to be executed reflexively?" Audin answered with a question instead.
Calculate everything?
That was impossible. Therefore, one simply needed to be superior to the opponent. Furthermore, those words were akin to telling him to draw out what was needed at the necessary moment.
Sometimes softly, sometimes fiercely. Upright, heavy, deceptive, fast, and soft.
He felt he understood why the once-in-a-generation genius, Lionesis Oniak, had divided swordsmanship into five categories.
If you are faithful to the basics, you can catch up to everything else somehow.
The Encrid before training the Wave-Blocking Sword and the Encrid after were distinctly different. Naturally, the same went for before and after becoming a knight. For while some parts of a person never change, other parts inevitably do.
Encrid obtained a partial answer from Audin's question.
"In the end, what matters is the swordplay itself, right?"
To put it simply, that was it.
"What does that mean?" Teresa, who was listening nearby, asked.
Audin was the one who answered. "It means that in the end, you must strike with your fists, slash with your sword, and thrust with your spear, Sister. Therefore, you only need to train the basics."
Be faithful to the basics. Train every day. Find the answer with your body, not your head. Audin interpreted his own words once more.
Everyone had their own ideals and convictions. Encrid absorbed all their words like dry cotton soaking up water.
Calculating everything, though the process may differ, is ultimately what Rem does.
Rem perceives everything in an instant and delivers the most rational and lethal move. If it were rock-paper-scissors, it would be like predicting and throwing his hand after seeing the opponent's hand change mid-throw. That was how good his eyes were, and how fast his reactions were.
He puts beastmen to shame.
If a beastman were highly intelligent, they would fight like Rem. A beastman's innate voluntary physical control was just that outstanding. Rem simply substituted that with his own genius.
Ragna's words were convoluted, but the core message was delivered.
It's fine to take a detour. But leave no regrets on the path you've already embarked upon.
It was equivalent to saying that once you start swinging your sword, you need the stubbornness to make even a wrong path right.
Belief.
A knight who has attained a sense of omnipotence can accumulate self-doubt through defeat. Especially if their vow is broken, they will be filled with distrust.
A Will stripped of belief is only half-complete.
Ragna was a genius. His genius was truly astounding. That was why he could say such things. Even so, it couldn't be said that it was of no help to Encrid. He listened, pondered, and engraved it in his mind. That was what Encrid did.
What Sachsen said meant not to overestimate the opponent. And Audin said that building up through steady training was the answer. They were all different words, yet they meant the same thing. While they were helpful to Encrid, they were also beneficial to Luagarne, Ropode, Pel, and Teresa.
"Carving out one's own path—that might also be the condition for reaching the senior rank," Luagarne, who was also a researcher, added.
"Indeed," Encrid agreed dryly and popped a piece of meat into his mouth.
It was pork belly on a skewer, with sizzling fat dripping from the flesh. He blew on it gently and ate it; it melted instantly on his tongue. The lightly sprinkled salt and spices blended with the fat, delivering a thrilling burst of flavor. Having been slow-roasted, the tender meat parted easily under his teeth.
Mmm.
It was an absolutely magnificent dish.
Sinar nibbled on a few ripe berries, and even that simple act looked like that of a goddess.
"If things go south, let's establish the Sinar Knights. Gathering people would be a piece of cake. But more importantly, Sinar, have you ever heard of a salon? Seeing the elves this time, I thought it would be good for them to learn some business on the continent. Working in a salon would be perfect for that. If we open a salon later with only elves, it'll help them adapt to the continent much better," Krais said, his eyes gleaming even brighter than the campfire.
"There is indeed a clan interested in such matters. They are from the Ermen family, and you must have met them already," Sinar replied.
She was referring to the elf representing the clan's trade. Naturally, Krais had met him. In a rare display, Krais furrowed his brow in displeasure. Encrid wondered why he was acting like that, but then—
"That elf talks too much."
Ah, mutual hatred of their own kind, Encrid thought. Everyone else thought the same.
"I do not represent the will of the clan; I protect them. Therefore, they should be allowed to act of their own free will, as they wish."
Having spoken, Sinar turned her gaze to Encrid, while Ropode muttered in the meantime.
"So a natural, unconscious movement of the sword always becomes the correct answer."
"The condition of a senior knight." Pel took up those words, his brow heavily furrowed. "How is that even possible?"
He possessed a glimmer of that talent himself, which only made it harder for him to comprehend. How could every single movement be the correct answer every time? Swinging and parrying with a sword involves probability. This meant that luck was required.
Could one always keep luck on their side? What about the variables?
So you're saying we should make every path the correct one?
Was that even possible? Was it a difference in talent? All sorts of thoughts crossed Pel's mind. These were questions to which he could not find immediate answers.
Sinar answered Pel's question. "How else? You do it with the power of love."
Encrid wondered if the elf had taken some strange drug today. Or perhaps she had guzzled too much alcohol. Well, she looked far too neat and tidy for that. Having helped with the clan's final migration, she might be exhausted, but she wouldn't have done anything else.
Then what was the reason for her behavior today?
"She's excited," Luagarne said, using her woman's intuition.
She was right. Sinar had been unable to leave her city, Kirhais, because she had to uphold her duty. So she had brought the entire city with her. Otherwise, she would have pushed to change the city's name from Kirhais to Ermen.
In any case, because of her duty—the oath she had sworn to protect for a lifetime—she had been away from the Border Guard for a very long time. She had escaped the demon's shackles, and though the man who saved her was right here, she hadn't been able to stay by his side. It wasn't quite resentment, but it was frustrating. And as frustrating as it was, she was also impatient.
It was already common knowledge among the elves, which was also why the number of elves scaling the walls at night to target Encrid had increased over the past month. Their chances would be higher than trying after Sinar arrived.
But even in her absence, they couldn't do anything to Encrid. Furthermore, the presence of the witch known as the Black Flower put pressure on the elves. Even within the clan, the long-lived elves sometimes referred to mages as the demon's minions. It was a prejudice born from the days of fighting demons in the past, when some mages and witches had sided with the enemy. To elves living in a closed society, a witch was an extremely dangerous existence.
Not that Esther had ever actually thought of separating those elves' flesh from their bones and displaying them on pikes. Even if she did kill an elf, she wouldn't engage in such useless acts.
At any rate, Sinar was highly satisfied to face Encrid here. Teasing him after so long had made her more enthusiastic than usual. So, to be precise, Sinar hadn't taken any drugs; she was just excited.
Yet, to an onlooker, she might as well have been drugged.
"If you really want to know, come to my quarters tonight. I'll teach you everything. All of it, with the power of love."
The fact that she said this with a completely nonchalant, deadpan expression made it terrifying. With a face like a goddess's sister, one couldn't help but wonder why she was acting this way. Encrid felt a different kind of goosebumps than the ones he got from a thrill.
"Should I knock her out?" he asked in all seriousness. There would be no better way to shut her mouth.
"Do you really have to go that far?" Rem chimed in.
And Ragna, of course, wouldn't miss out. "Go outside and get some fresh air. Don't get lost," he told Sinar.
"May your God watch over you, Sister," Audin said, and Sachsen spun his dagger. Then, he suddenly asked: "Are you going to keep using that harsh-sounding, unsightly dagger?"
It was a question that wouldn't have been asked unless something was seriously bothering him.
"It's the Horn Trumpet Dagger. Not an unsightly dagger. I'm more used to this than throwing silently," Encrid spoke calmly, and Sachsen ignored him without replying. Though he didn't like it, he didn't seem inclined to press the matter further.
"Spells carry intent. A spell without intent is garbage. However, as you become more accustomed to it, you begin to cast simple spells with just a gesture. The reaction comes before the intent. A spell that bursts forth at any given moment—it is also called Glint."
Esther chimed in, explaining that Glint meant a flash. Today, Esther was in her human form, boasting black hair. She, too, was providing an answer to the topic Encrid had brought up.
But why were her cheeks so red?