Chapter 675: Stagnant Water
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 675: Stagnant Water
"Samcheol, you ready?"
Encrid brushed off Grida’s words, prompting her to watch him and choose her next ones carefully.
"I told you to stop that. You really look like a lunatic."
Grida was dead serious. It wasn't even a sentient sword, so why did he keep talking to it?
Encrid didn't bother to argue. He only spoke to it because it was worth speaking to.
The sword's name was Samcheol—a masterpiece forged with a core of meteoric iron and edges of ink gold and truesilver.
‘If only it held Will, it could easily be called an imprinted weapon.’
Not all the swords Eitri made were like this. Samcheol was special. If Penna fit his hand like a glove, Samcheol felt like a literal extension of his arm.
In that way, the sword spoke to him.
It whispered its desire to run wild, to play, to create an ensemble with other pieces of metal. It was a voice only Encrid could hear.
Though, to be completely honest, he didn't literally hear it.
"Samcheol whispered that it wants to perform an ensemble."
"...I usually hate to agree with her, but you definitely look even crazier saying that. Do you realize how you sound?"
It was Rem who spoke, having slipped out at some point to watch.
It was just after dawn, and Encrid had already worked up a heavy sweat. The biting winter wind was finally giving way to a gentler, warmer spring breeze. Even though the sun had begun to rise earlier, his dawn training remained unchanged, which was why he was drenched today as well.
It had been the same for the past two months. Watching Encrid, Grida had to acknowledge it.
‘A training maniac.’
Even within the Zaun family, where everyone lived and breathed swordsmanship, his type was rare.
‘I didn't think a guy like this existed on the continent.’
Sometimes, anomalous geniuses like him did pop up. However, the strangest part was that this obvious genius bizarrely seemed to be running in place. Even after two months of sparring, she hadn't seen any major changes in Encrid.
‘There must be something.’
There had to be a reason he had become a knight and earned everyone's recognition.
Amidst the blowing spring breeze, a chilly draft seeped into her chest. Grida felt her muscles tighten with tension. Her heart rate quickened slightly. It was perfect. A moderate amount of tension would sharpen her reaction speed.
‘I've slacked off too much lately.’
Even when she chose to wander the continent under the pretext of searching for Ragna, she had never stopped training. But training alone was vastly different from settling down and pushing oneself alongside others who trained with absolute resolve.
‘Because of that, I feel like I've fallen behind a bit.’
Well, it was the path she had chosen, so it was something she had to bear. It wasn't as if she hadn't known this would happen. And it certainly wasn't because she wanted to be lazy. She had simply done what she had to do. The words of the clan head—who had told her to bring Ragna back but never set a deadline—carried a similar meaning.
‘Though wandering around, eating, and drinking was quite fun.’
It had also been highly amusing when some noble fell for her and tried to take her as a concubine. The look on his face when she severed the wrists of his three guards had been priceless. Even the moment the man she took as a lover left to find his own path was now just a fond memory.
Shaking off her brief reminiscence, Grida spoke.
"Did you figure out the secret of the Zaun?"
Encrid nodded, his sword hanging loosely. In truth, there was no secret to speak of. Grida and the others hadn't hidden a thing; they had laid everything bare.
"You didn't even pretend to hide anything, so what secret is there?"
"It sounds cooler when you put it that way."
Grida flashed her white teeth. It was clear she had taken good care of her dental hygiene even while wandering. Besides, once one became a knight, they rarely caught common illnesses, so tooth decay was rare.
The two measured the distance between them, swords in hand.
Not only Rem but also Audin had come out to watch. Ropode and Pel had also become spectators, though they were currently tying ropes around each other's wrists and ankles. Aside from the continuous clubbing, they were training by sparring with their limbs restricted.
Looking at the two standing before them, both Ropode and Pel felt a sense of urgency.
‘Two months have already passed.’
Yet they hadn't even reached the tip of a knight's toes.
But this was only natural. If one could become a knight immediately just by establishing a system and changing training methods, order knights wouldn't be so rare on the continent. Even so, both of them were rising at a remarkably fast pace.
This was most apparent to Magrun, who had joined the spectators. He had already briefed Grida on their progress over the past two months. Magrun watched Pel and Ropode, feeling a certain premonition.
‘Those two will make it.’
The Zaun family raised knights in a unique way. Based on his experience, Magrun felt justified in calling this premonition a certainty. Even the urgency those two felt would serve as nourishment for their growth.
‘Zaun pursues competition.’
It stimulated the desire to improve, but this place had something even greater. The Border Guard forced training upon them with murderous intensity alongside competition. It was the exact opposite of the Zaun's voluntary training.
Encrid kept his eyes locked on Grida. While she was never an easy opponent, to be perfectly honest, Grida's skills fell slightly short of Odinkar's or Magrun's. That assessment remained unchanged.
"So, what did you find out?" Grida asked, shifting a step to the side. The sunlight behind her back poured directly into Encrid's eyes.
Encrid took a half-step to the right, shielding his vision from the glare, and replied.
"That by always competing, you never stop."
Over the past two months, he had observed the three from the Zaun family, conversed with them, and studied them. He had pondered deeply, driven by a desire to learn. It was easier to grasp the values they pursued through conversation than to physically replicate their techniques.
That was how he had come to understand. Zaun was always competing, and at the core of that competition lay desire.
If anyone were to ask Encrid how to cultivate Will, he would answer: "You need the passion to strive toward what you desire."
The Zaun family imparted a similar teaching. How do you cultivate Will? You cultivate it with endless zeal. Encrid had pierced straight to the core of it.
He could do so because he possessed talent. Gathering those talented individuals must have been how the family began in the first place. Telling those without talent that they could succeed through sheer zeal alone was not the Zaun's teaching. It differed from the path he intended to walk. Yet, there was still much to learn.
"Encouraging them to do what they are good at even better," Encrid continued. As he spoke, he raised the tip of his sword. Though his mouth was speaking, his eyes had already mapped out Grida's entire body.
The calculations began. He predicted every movement that could occur and weighed the probabilities.
Grida stood still and smiled. "Exactly."
"And those who fall behind will be pushed out."
Only those who enjoy competing with one another remain. Thus, they progress.
"That's also true," Grida nodded.
After Ragna returned, they had once talked about his childhood.
"Ragna? When he was young, you could say he was on the slightly lacking side. But one thing was definitely different. My brother was anomalous. His talent was the real deal."
What others had to grit their teeth to realize, he accomplished effortlessly. Yet, he had no zeal. It was all thanks to his innate talent, which was both a blessing and a curse.
"Ordinary talent inspires zeal, but an overwhelming abundance of talent strips a person of it."
That was the conclusion they reached. The elders had given up on Ragna, and Ragna hadn't cared in the slightest. It was no exaggeration to say his laziness began back then.
"He found everything bothersome since he was a kid. But once he went out, he liked wandering around. Did he say walking a new path was fun?"
Encrid had never heard Ragna's innermost thoughts in detail, but he had heard similar stories. Ragna had said that a path with a visible destination held no interest for him.
‘Since he can't find his way, he ends up facing a new path every single time.’
In that sense, Ragna's inability to find his way was not a curse, but a blessing. It was the opposite of his talent.
Encrid respected that.
"Zaun desires nothing, not even the fight against the Demon Realm. We solely indulge in and explore swordsmanship. We simply enjoy every single moment of it," Grida finished.
Yes, that was the Zaun's system. They did not hesitate to learn, teach, and master from one another amidst competition. Furthermore, they did not waste their strength anywhere else; they simply remained within it.
"You can call us stagnant water if you like, but to prevent ourselves from stagnating, we make 'wandering' an obligation, sending most of our family members to roam the continent. Some of them stay with like-minded people and leave their mark on history."
Encrid had no intention of criticizing them. Just because one possessed power, did they absolutely have to use it? Surely not. If necessary, he could make use of them—if he provided what they wanted as compensation. But he didn't want to do that. Shouldn't they also be allowed to live as they wished?
It was a choice born of respecting an individual's will and desires. A group gathered solely to gaze upon and crave swordsmanship. A group that burned with zeal as they competed within. That was why they did not hesitate to exchange techniques and were never stingy with their teachings.
‘Would they sell their souls to a demon for the advancement of swordsmanship?’
Zaun was capable of doing so. But they would not choose such a path. He had heard the answer from Odinkar.
"If I sell my soul to a demon, the 'me' who trains in swordsmanship ceases to exist, right? I wouldn't like that."
Truly selfish, but that was what made them interesting.
"Magrun has been watching you for two months," Grida said, raising her sword. In response, Encrid raised his own at an angle. Both were ready.
"Watch yourself, Enki."
As the two shifted their positions, behind Encrid stood Rem, Audin, Sachsen, Esther, Sinar, Teresa, Ropode, Pel, and Luagarne. Behind Grida, Odinkar stood with his arms crossed, while Magrun brought over a chair and sat down.
Encrid and Grida's gazes crossed. Was the Grida of now the same as the one he had first encountered in the market?
Encrid asked and answered himself.
‘No.’
The woman who had tempered her body like iron for two months unleashed her sword. As her left foot stepped forward, her attack was perceived a step ahead. It was a scene shown first by his insight.
It was a thrust delivered while stamping her left foot against the ground. The moment he perceived it, a strike sharper and faster than before flew toward him like a single dot.
Clang!
The white blade clashed against Samcheol and was deflected. There was no need to measure his breath. Encrid advanced, crossing his feet. Closing the distance in an instant, he struck down at Grida's head with Samcheol's pommel. It was an unexpected, unorthodox attack. Grida raised her forearm to block.
Thud!
The difference in physical strength was clear. Struck by the blow, Grida was pushed back. Had she tried to endure it, her forearm would have snapped, so she had taken the hit while retreating.
Simultaneously, Encrid calculated the dozens of attacks Grida could unleash next. Yet, Grida chose none of those lines.
Tap, tap.
Having retreated, Grida tapped her feet twice. To an outsider, it was a meaningless gesture, but to Encrid, it appeared as dozens of potential derivative movements.
‘Why did she tap her feet?’
A distraction? The start of an unexpected technique? A shift in position?
In a brief moment, dozens of thoughts flashed through his mind.
‘If I can't know, I just have to watch her reaction.’
Encrid flipped his sword, changing the direction of the blade. Samcheol had two types of edges: ink gold and truesilver. Eitri had balanced it perfectly by adjusting the ratio of meteoric iron, but the metals on either edge remained different.
He shifted the weight forward with the ink gold side facing front, adding more acceleration to the blade. It was a technique that utilized the differing weights of the edges. Extending his right foot, Encrid twisted his waist, transferring the force through his elbow and wrist as he slashed.
Whoosh!
The blade slashed the space where Grida had just been. She dodged by rolling to the side, but she didn't stop there. The moment she finished her roll, she slammed her left hand against the ground to spring herself up and struck her own chest with her right hand.
Smack.
She did it with enough force to make a sharp sound.
‘Why?’
What was the reason for that movement? Preparation for an attack? Had she lost her balance?
‘No.’
After the same movement was repeated a few times, Encrid tripped over his own feet and stumbled. Seizing that moment, Grida thrust the tip of her sword forward.
Clang!
He managed to block it, but blood began to stream from Encrid's nose.
"Fun, isn't it?" Grida asked.
Despite feeling his surroundings spin, Encrid replied, "Yeah."
Tracing back the sequence of events, it wasn't difficult to figure out what she had done.
‘Overturning calculations through a sequence of unpredictable movements.’
To put it simply, that was what it was.