Chapter 679: Encrid Knows How to Lose
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 679: Encrid Knows How to Lose
"Why do I feel so annoyed?"
Rem muttered the question as he watched the group depart. Beside him, Audin let out a hearty chuckle.
"He must have had some sort of realization."
He was referring to Ragna’s current state.
"Maybe he's just gone mad?"
"That is also possible."
Rem glanced at Audin. Last night, before Encrid’s departure, Rem had watched him spar with Audin. To be precise, Encrid had suddenly approached Audin with a request.
“I’d like to have a match before I go.”
Requesting a spar the very day before a long journey? For Encrid, such a thing was perfectly normal.
Rem had watched with a relaxed mind, but Encrid lost. And he didn't just lose; he was thoroughly thrashed.
Midway through, Audin realized the true purpose of the spar and asked, "Did you learn a lot?"
"A little."
To Rem, Encrid was the kind of bastard who, even if he were on the verge of death, would gladly learn one more sword stroke before drawing his final breath.
It was a passing thought, but it was the absolute truth. After all, Encrid had died repeatedly, reliving the same day over and over, struggling desperately to reach this point.
"You said you block with waves and strike with light?"
"Yeah."
"And in that process, you display your specialty without reservation."
"Probably."
"From a strategic standpoint, that is foolish. But surely you know that doesn't mean it's wrong?"
Rem agreed with those words, though he didn't butt into the conversation. The fanatical bear-beastman had said everything that needed to be said.
Encrid nodded, the skin around his eyes bruised a deep blue. If the blow had been just a fraction off, his eyeball would have ruptured, but his body was already as tough as iron armor.
When swinging his sword, he had yet to reach the high-tier level within the system he had established for himself, but when taking a hit, he was already there. He had reached a level where he could instinctively manifest Will to protect his body.
How was he only good at that?
‘Because he’s been beaten to a pulp countless times.’
That was Rem's assessment. Encrid had been hit so much that, at least when receiving a blow, he used Will unconsciously. He simply needed to do the same when swinging his sword.
To Rem, Audin, Sachsen, or Ragna, it was baffling that he couldn't bridge that gap. If you can open a door with your left hand, you should be able to open it with your right.
Yet, he couldn't.
Watching a man who had become a knight—and at times even surpassed them—grow at such a snail's pace could easily drive one mad with frustration. But in truth, they weren't even angry. They had long since accepted that he was a human built on an entirely different track.
"He'll return stronger," Rem said, brushing his thoughts aside. Slow, but steady. That was the kind of man Encrid was.
"Yes, I know," Audin nodded.
"And that directionally challenged bastard might be preparing to die, so we might need to prepare funeral prayers."
Rem spoke with half-jest and half-malice, but his intuition was terrifyingly accurate. Ragna had changed precisely because he realized he was sick.
"Surely not."
Audin knew Ragna's talent. Though Audin himself was praised as having the greatest talent as an Apostle of War, Ragna possessed a special sense that stood out even in comparison. That way of grasping the truth and moving forward with just a single moment of concentration was something others could hardly dare to imitate. Not that Audin felt any jealousy.
Audin knew himself well, and he knew he had to cherish what he possessed. Since he only knew how to move forward steadily, he would simply do so today as well.
And the Captain, who had accepted his teachings, would do the same.
*
Encrid and his party left the city, heading out into the wilds.
From the very first day, the weather was exceptionally fine. This was only natural; from Border Guard northward, precipitation drops sharply once spring arrives. In other words, it rarely rained. While summer would bring raging storms, right now was a succession of warm, peaceful days.
Though a drizzling spring rain fell occasionally, heavy downpours were rare. Some said that a prolonged dry spring meant the summer storms would be all the more violent, but that was a problem for the future.
"We'll ride our horses toward the right wing of the Pen-Hanil Mountains—ah, you guys don't call it that. We call that part over there the 'wing.' We can cross over through there."
The only commotion at the start of their journey was stopping Ragna, who insisted on leading the way.
"If you lead, we'll end up on a tour of the entire continent starting today," Encrid said, bringing Ragna back to reality. "Hey, was it Sena? Stop him."
Beside them, Grida urged Anne forward.
"It's Anne. I'm sick of telling you my name. That's already more than five times."
"Ah, sorry. I'll just call you Freckles."
"I hate that even more."
Anne smoothly deflected Grida's teasing and pulled Ragna back.
"Just keep pace with my horse. I'm not used to this."
Judging by the way she rode, she seemed far past 'used to it' and was actually quite skilled, but Ragna didn't persist.
"Indeed, this is no time to fret over trivial matters."
This conversation took place right after they left the city. Soon after, Magrun spurred his horse forward.
"Hya! Hya! Hyah!"
Odinkar and Grida matched his pace, and Encrid did the same. Naturally, Ragna and Anne followed right behind them. Though they had no particularly urgent business, they began a forced march.
"Why waste time on the road? We can't ride these horses for more than ten days anyway. Until then, it's only right to run and run," Magrun explained.
These were people who, by nature, loathed wasting time. They would rather ride hard during the day so they could swing their swords one more time at night. For Encrid, it was a highly satisfying schedule, while for Anne, it was absolute hell.
"Are you all insane?"
Yet, Anne kept up. Just as she had said, she wanted to quickly identify the nature of the disease. Or perhaps, to be more precise, she was going to kill it. Anne possessed a fierce determination; she had resolved to fight this illness and win.
"I just made a promise to myself. If a wretched disease like this is still tormenting or killing someone, I will absolutely be there," she told Ragna during a brief moment of reflection. Encrid heard it clearly as well.
As they rode by day and rested by night, Encrid immersed himself in his inner thoughts, organizing his mind. Whenever he moved like this without having to worry about anything else, his mind spun with sharp clarity.
Ragna was left to Anne, Magrun took charge of guiding them, and Grida handled the camp. With all trivial thoughts cast aside, what occupied his mind now was what Audin had shown him.
He hadn't spent time sparring before leaving for nothing. Encrid had felt his shortcomings on an instinctive level, and he had confirmed them through Audin.
‘Everyone finds a way to counter my specialty too easily.’
Though it was limited to spars, if this pattern repeated, it would affect real combat. It meant he could lose a fight he should have won. Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Sachsen had all shattered his Wave Barrier, and Grida had dismantled his calculations. Odinkar's sword was gradually showing a similar trend, and he felt the same while talking with Magrun.
"You're just a bit too predictable," Grida had once said. Her observational skills were truly exceptional.
Would Luagarne have said something similar if she were here? Putting skill aside, that Frok’s insight was extraordinary. Luagarne, along with Teresa and Sinar, had left for special training, so he hadn't been able to see her even on the day of departure.
He thought over and over again.
Recalling the final moments of his spar with Audin, Encrid remembered how Audin frequently used a tactic of intentionally showing vulnerability and then covering it up—whether gaps appeared in his offense or defense due to his Holy Armor or otherwise. It wasn't because of a lack of skill.
‘Deception.’
Intentionally showing a gap, purposely leaving a flaw. Audin used even deception as a technique. No matter who the opponent was, the moment they perceived Audin as slow-witted, they were doomed. He was stronger, more brilliant at calculation, and more skilled in martial arts than anyone else in the unit, yet he did not hesitate to deceive.
Just because one's specialty was outstanding, did they have to fight using only that? What about Jamal of the Ducal Knights of Azpen?
‘He revealed his hand only at the very end.’
This didn't mean he had to prioritize learning a deceptive sword style above all else. It meant he had to know how to utilize everything he possessed. Once, Oara had looked at him and called his skills a hodgepodge. She had told him to discard them.
Was it greed that made him combine them instead of throwing them away back then? Had he taken the wrong path?
Encrid, too, was only human. Sometimes, a certain anxiety would wrap around him. A tingling sensation ran across his skin. An unpleasant premonition made his heart race. Of course, it was only temporary. If he were the type to stop because of such anxiety, he would have remained in 'the best and finest today' long ago.
What should one do when anxious? Swing the sword. It was a truth learned through countless experiences. There was nothing else he could do anyway.
This was why he organized his thoughts by day and swung his sword alone by night. To an onlooker, it was a tedious, stubbornly consistent routine.
"Today's effort will save your life tomorrow."
These were the words of Ragna, who had transformed from a lazy sluggard into diligence itself. Of course, everyone who heard him could only stare in sheer bewilderment.
"I know," Encrid replied calmly, continuing to swing his sword again and again.
Watching Encrid, Magrun found him incredibly fascinating.
‘Is he going to die tomorrow?’
Perhaps Magrun himself would. That was usually how this curse went. It started in childhood and slowly killed you. In his case, the progression was on the faster side. That was why there were things he wanted to leave behind. It was no exaggeration to say his entire existence was lived for that purpose—a life lived to leave his mark on House Zaun.
Yet even he did not push himself through such a grueling schedule. Furthermore, Encrid had been like this since they were in the city. He spent every single day living a dense 'today' with an intensity that even Magrun wouldn't dare attempt. That fellow did what others wouldn't even dream of as if it were nothing. It was impossible not to find it fascinating.
"Magrun, if you're not busy, how about a round?"
In the evening, Encrid would even ask him for a spar. In terms of skill, it was hard for Magrun to win. He already knew this. Even if he fought with his life on the line, Encrid was a wall he couldn't scale. That bastard Rem was amazing, but when it came to sparring, this guy was even more incredible.
Though Magrun spoke harshly, he was quick to acknowledge others. That was one of his greatest strengths. Because of that trait, his eyes were opened to dissecting techniques, allowing him to learn new skills faster than others. Thus, Magrun was praised for his innate ability to absorb techniques.
‘On the other hand, this guy is slow.’
Magrun had seen countless geniuses growing up in House Zaun. None of them possessed a talent as dull as the man before him. Yet, this man was still more incredible.
"Anytime."
Clang!
Their swords clashed, and the spar began. After a brief exchange, it was Magrun who won. This was the primary reason he found Encrid so remarkable.
"I lost."
Encrid knew how to lose.
"Yeah," Magrun nodded.
Then Encrid asked, "Anything to tell me?"
"A few things."
Magrun calmly recited the observations he had made. Encrid asked a few follow-up questions, chewing over the advice, and nodded. Yes, everything else could be cast aside, but this ability to accept defeat and this very attitude—regardless of skill level—demanded respect.
‘He opens his heart and completely opens his eyes.’
To learn even a single thing, he reached out for help. He didn't grovel or act subserviently, nor did he flatter or try to curry favor. There was only pure sincerity. He listened properly, questioned, and requested.
Was such an exchange normally possible with an opponent weaker than oneself? It wasn't easy. It was incredibly difficult. Magrun had never seen such a thing even in House Zaun, where competitiveness was the foundation and it was natural for the one who was further ahead to lead the one lagging behind.
Yet Encrid was capable of it. He knew how to lose, and he opened his ears to his shortcomings, acknowledged them, and accepted them. How could anyone not find this fascinating?
Magrun wasn't the only one who felt this way. Odinkar felt similarly. Grida went without saying. Ragna even went out of his way to push Encrid hard.
"If you act half-heartedly just to hide your specialty, that's the end of it. Don't you know that? If you don't, we do it again. Again!"
Ragna, too, was burning with an unprecedented fire. If Sinar had seen him, she would have said it was the season of the Igniculus, the burning spark.
Throughout the journey, Encrid did not waste a single moment. He kept at it the entire time they rode. Furthermore, since this area had no established safe roads or outposts, the monsters and demonic beasts that occasionally appeared served as excellent sparring partners. Watching the others fight them was a lesson in itself, and fighting them directly while reflecting on what he had learned was even better.
It was around the time their equestrian journey was drawing to a close.
Technique, martial arts, physical ability, tactical thinking, strategic planning, reasoning, judgment, responsiveness, decisiveness, and boldness. Encrid knew that all of these had to harmonize to hold any meaning.
‘To harmonize.’
What must he do to achieve that?
Dozens of images and memories flashed through his mind. The realm of thought, filled with reviews and contemplation, opened wide. The process of searching for answers in past memories was condensed, reaching a conclusion in a single bound.
‘The touch of hands roasting jerky.’
It was a memory that had risen after hiding shyly in a corner of the Library of Experience.
Within that shy memory, Eitri's hammering, the touch of the Frok beside him, the giant who had transformed into a skilled merchant, the innkeeper making marmalade, and the shoemaker sewing shoes all came to mind.