Chapter 680: A Night of Realization and Killing Intent
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 680: A Night of Realization and Killing Intent
"If I slack off just because my shop collapsed, is someone going to buy me bread? I can't send my daughter off empty-handed when she marries. Or are you going to take her off my hands?"
It was back when he had first opened the Gate of the Sixth Sense. Even though the shoemaker had lost his workshop, his hands had never stopped working.
It was a vivid memory, one he recalled with perfect clarity.
It wasn't some grand spectacle, but the craftsman had shown him his work, and Encrid had watched.
Lifting the tanned leather, beating it, sewing it, and applying adhesive. The process of shaping, molding, and securing the material flowed like water.
What had he thought upon seeing that?
‘How long must he have done this to become so skilled?’
He had certainly thought that, believing that if he swung his sword without rest, he too would become just as accustomed to his own craft. As always, those days had been a continuous cycle of agonizing over how to move forward.
Then, the image of Eitri swinging his hammer surfaced.
‘Was there any hesitation in his hands?’
He had never seen such a thing. Whether grinding a sword on a whetstone or hammering heated iron, Eitri's hands simply moved without pause. If it was a path one had walked hundreds or thousands of times, one could find the way even with eyes closed.
That was how Eitri handled iron.
What about Frok, who stood beside him? Were the hands of Frok—who said he would make ornaments even if he had to drive nails into his own slippery hands—clumsy?
Not at all. There was not even a hint of it.
He would wake before the sun even rose, pick up tools that fit his hands, melt silver, attach gold, and handle various metals, busy only with bringing to life what was in his mind. In a task repeated day after day without rest, there was no room for clumsiness to creep in.
Even when mistakes occurred and failures piled up, his hands naturally moved on to the 'next.' He hadn't seen everything, but he could tell from those practiced movements that the man must have repeated the same task for a truly long time.
Snap!
One day, Sachsen had suddenly concealed his presence, approached, and snapped his fingers. Startled by the sound, Encrid had whipped his head around.
"How did you just turn your head? Did you think before turning it? Did you perceive the sound, find its direction, and then turn your head? Or did you simply react?"
Sachsen had said he couldn't explain it any more simply than that, but at the time, Encrid couldn't understand this either. He had vaguely understood in his head that using Will was the same, but it would be more accurate to say he hadn't felt it in his bones.
The Giant Merchant naturally spread words to advertise the value of his goods. The jerky-making woman adjusted the intensity of the fire and the amount of seasoning with utter naturalness.
Was there any sign of hesitation or worry in their processes?
‘None.’
Had he not marveled while watching the Ragged Saint and the woman roasting jerky in front of him? It was a succession of movements that fell perfectly into place without the slightest disarray.
Did the Ragged Saint groan or grunt when using Divine Power?
‘It was nothing but perfectly natural.’
He had said that what he taught Seiki was the same. He had told her to naturally release her Divine Power, throw it, and play with it. Those were the words he had heard from Seiki.
"I've known how to handle Divine Power since I was a child. Though it was only later that I realized I could actually draw it out and use it. The blacksmith brothers are the same as me."
Audin had said so too.
"You just have to do it, but you aren't. It's not that you can't, it's that you won't."
Ragna, too, would often say while dozing off:
‘Just as I mastered the motion of slashing by swinging my sword over ten thousand times, I just need to use Will reflexively in the same way. I've already been doing that.’
Therefore, he had to be able to do what Eitri did, and he had to be able to do what the jerky-making woman did.
While they worked iron and roasted jerky, he had swung his sword and moved his Will. Thanks to his bottomless well, he had been able to spend time far more densely than anyone else. He had used it and used it, endlessly. He had done so while repeating today.
But he had thought it was impossible. The reason? He had believed that because Will was willpower, one had to first consciously perceive what action they were going to take.
"Why wouldn't it work? It's just an obsession, you crazy Captain. Will only moves when you rouse your willpower? Willpower and Will are the same? Do you really believe that?"
Will was derived from willpower, wasn't it? Was it not? It was. But Rem had said that Will and willpower were not the same.
This, too, he hadn't been able to understand back then. But now, he knew.
Without any grand catalyst, simply by recalling the hands roasting jerky, Encrid could now naturally move his Will to wield his sword. It had started with trying to put forward a swordsmanship other than his specialty, but the answer to that had also come.
‘I just have to make all of them my specialty.’
Striking naturally with the sword meant there was no need to designate a specific specialty. He didn't know if everyone did it this way, but he would. That was enough.
‘No, Audin draws a large circle, but if necessary, he can also become a sharp awl.’
An awl pierces a circle. But it is just as easily broken.
‘Variability.’
It was the condition for what lay beyond becoming a high-ranking knight. Whether a circle or an awl, one had to know how to draw it out and use it whenever needed.
Thinking about it now, he realized what kind of monstrous bastards had been gathered in his unit.
‘Just when I thought I had caught up, they all acquired variability and beat me again.’
Although it was Encrid himself who had driven their change, he had no way of knowing that now, nor did he care to. He was simply filled with satisfaction at being among such incredible monsters. How fortunate he was to have such people right by his side.
He had once heard from Marcus about the former battalion commander who had gathered the Troublemaker Squad. Had he been described as an opportunist who only cared about his own safety?
‘I actually want to meet him once.’
At this point, he even felt like he had received help from him.
‘Ha.’
In the midst of his thoughts, something new surfaced in his mind, expanding his concepts. It wasn't just about swordsmanship.
Was Will the exclusive property of knights? The thought that it wasn't stretched and woke up in a corner of his mind.
‘Ordinary people naturally use Will too.’
Naturally, using Will was not easy, and even if they did, it didn't manifest outwardly, but they still used it. This was not a doubt, but a certainty. He had seen it with his own eyes. Had he not just realized it by looking at them?
The jerky-making woman and Eitri hammering iron both used Will unconsciously. In other words, if someone reached the level of being called an artisan or a master of their craft, they could be considered to be using Will.
‘Or, if the source is the same, could it be called mana instead of Will?’
Or perhaps they needed a term of their own. However, it was certain that skill alone was not everything.
The dwarf who had visited Eitri in the past possessed metallurgy skills superior to Eitri's at the time, yet one could not feel any sense of dignity from him. Thinking of dignity, the branches of his thoughts reached out to Krang.
Krang was a sharp awl and a brilliant star. He was a figure who stood out wherever he was. His dignity would not be hidden even if he wore shabby clothes.
‘The value Krang possesses lies within.’
What was it that resided within him? He felt he understood why Krang's words captivated people. The aura he exuded, including his grace and dignity, must also be the work of Will.
‘Many people unconsciously use Will, little by little.’
It was the privilege of those who poured their all, their effort, and their time into their work. Or those who were born with it.
Amidst his thoughts, a part of his senses awakened, sending a jolt of stimulation. Encrid felt the blowing wind and caught a scent. It started with smell. His nose twitched, distinguishing and separating several fragrances.
The smell of sweat from the party after their forced march, the scent of medicine from Anne, the faint smell of blood wafting from Ragna, the perfume worn by Grida, and even the metallic scent of each person's weapon—all of them were familiar smells he had known.
Amidst them, a distinctly different scent pierced his nostrils. A faint gamy, fishy odor.
After the smell came sound. The wind blew, rustling the thick bushes nearby. Rustle, rustle. A separate sound blended into it.
Finally, touch. The fine hairs on his skin stood on end as his sensitivity flared. In an instant, Encrid began to feel and scan everything around him. His five senses, which normally would not mix like water and oil, blended together to transform into a sixth sense, expanding his sensory domain.
Then, he felt a chilling sensation prickle the back of his head.
Encrid turned his head to the side and adjusted the position of the Samcheol Sword he was holding. The tip of the sword in his right hand rose. At that small movement, Ragna and the three from House Zaun reacted.
Ignoring their reactions, Encrid turned his head and looked up to the left from his standing position. If one could see killing intent with their eyes, what shape would it take?
His heightened sixth sense and the method of naturally using Will he had realized moments ago merged into one, visualizing its form. It looked like a short, sharp needle flying from afar to prick its target.
His maximized senses turned the pages of the future in advance. In the future shown on the turned page, there was a black soot plunging into Anne's head.
Its identity was unknown. The only thing certain was the killing intent.
The Samcheol Sword drew a smooth arc. Encrid stepped his left foot to the side, distributing his weight between both feet, and slashed his sword straight up from below. Because he executed all of these movements the very instant he felt the enemy's killing intent, to an onlooker, it would have seemed as though he raised the tip of his sword and immediately swung it.
Thwack!
It was the sound that followed. The sound of flesh tearing and bursting, and—
Skreeee!
It was a death rattle only a beast could make. Encrid saw blood pattering down above Anne's head. The color of the blood was pitch black.
"Ragna."
Ragna reacted to the call uttered as the sword was swung. Springing up, Ragna drew his greatsword and swung it diagonally through the air. Even though he swung the sword at the same time he straightened his knees, the strike already carried his full weight.
It seemed as though he had swung at empty space, but Ragna's instincts judged that something was there.
Riiip!
Kreeeech!
The noise continued. Along with the sound of tearing flesh, an unpleasant shriek rang out.
Encrid confirmed what he had cut down. It was a Bat Demonic Beast. Its fangs were several times longer than those of an ordinary bat. Split in half, spilling blood and entrails, it was already dead.
What Ragna had cut down also came into view. This one was an Owlbear. Since they were monsters resembling owls, they were also nicknamed the hunters of the night. They were creatures difficult to detect if they hid their presence on purpose, but...
‘But not sensing them until they got this close is a different matter entirely.’
Similar to when Sachsen approached with intent? No matter how well a bat or an Owlbear could conceal its presence, this was too much. Through Encrid's senses, something other than the killing intent of the monster and demonic beast was caught.
It was thanks to cutting down Walking Fire and training with Esther.
There was the smell of a spell. If he had to compare, while Esther smelled of dry firewood under the night sky, this smelled of a sickeningly sweet scent, like squeezed fruit. Expressing it this way felt quite unique to Encrid.
Since the sickeningly sweet scent was only faintly perceptible. It was strong, yet those who did not consciously perceive it could not smell it. Even Encrid could barely catch it.
He also felt a sense of incongruity. Both the Bat Demonic Beast and the Owlbear had a single target.
‘Why?’
Encrid's gaze turned toward the strong-willed, freckled woman who was startled and frightened but had not screamed.
‘Why are they targeting Anne?’
Did monsters and demonic beasts possess that level of cognitive ability? Or was it a coincidence?
"Magrun."
As soon as Encrid called Magrun, Grida spoke and turned her head to scan the surroundings.
"Odin, guard the perimeter. What the hell are these monsters?"
The party had been gathered around the crackling campfire.
"What is the meaning of this sudden attack?"
Magrun approached, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. It was amusing to react this way to mere monsters, but the sudden ambush had put them on high alert. After all, being a knight didn't make one immune to poison, nor did it stop them from bleeding when stabbed.
Furthermore, monsters and demonic beasts inherently possessed physical abilities superior to humans. An Owlbear could shatter a tree with just its arm strength, without even needing to build momentum. Their claws were that hard, and their forearms possessed that much raw power.
Therefore, a proper knight would rather overreact than let their guard down. They were no different. Neither was Encrid.
His sixth sense remained sharp, standing on end like prickly thorns. The scent still lingered precariously at the tip of his nose, wafting that sickeningly sweet odor. If he let his concentration slip even slightly, he felt he would forget the scent was even there.
It was like trying to smell the faint, lingering scent of a dried flower petal held right up to his nose. If the petal were moved even slightly away, the scent would be lost.
"Do the monsters around here use magic too?" Encrid asked, keeping his senses highly attuned.
"What are you talking about? This isn't our territory yet. It's not Imperial territory either."
Yet, they couldn't call where they were the territory of the Border Guard either. It was northeast of the former Count Molsen's territory, before they had even crossed the Pen-Hanil Mountains. They had been ambushed in such a no-man's-land.
‘I don't feel any killing intent, but...’
‘The scent still remains.’
‘Where is it?’
How does one find an invisible enemy?
Encrid's gaze swept over the surroundings. Utilizing the environment was the basis of tactics. Reaching out, he picked up a piece of firewood from the campfire. It was barely half-burnt, making it perfect to use as a handle.
Whoosh.
Sparks flared up along the wood. Following the blowing wind, the embers scattered and vanished into the darkness. As the firelight flickered, Encrid's shadow billowed like waves.