Chapter 697: Dry Lightning
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 697: Dry Lightning
'Medusa and Scaler.'
There would also be owlbears, bat-like demonic beasts, and the like. Had he not seen them on his way here?
Monsters gathering in one place to target Zaun?
'Or is it something else?'
The shadow of human interference loomed large. Though invisible, the presence was thick enough to feel. After all, monsters would not congregate like that unless someone had intended it.
The enemy hidden behind the veil suddenly felt massive. Like the black clouds in the sky, the shroud concealing the foe was pitch-black, thick, and currently out of reach.
'Would it have been easier if I had brought Rem?'
The thought occurred to him again. After all, they were constantly blocking his path with sorcery.
From what he had seen before, that bastard Rem had a habit of immediately pulling out his axe and swinging it whenever someone clumsily used sorcery in front of him. Curious, Encrid had once asked him why he threw such a fit whenever he saw sorcery.
"A fit? When did I? Shouldn't you call it righteous fury?"
"I asked why you do that."
"Because they're all so damn clumsy at it."
That was the end of Rem's explanation—a typically crude way of speaking. But after pondering it on his own, Encrid had figured out the rest and asked Rem again to confirm.
"Is it because it's an eyesore to watch half-baked bastards show off their tricks in front of you?"
"Yeah, exactly."
If there was one slightly unpleasant thing, it was that Encrid actually understood a part of Rem's feelings.
'Have I been tainted by a crazy barbarian's mindset?' he wondered.
If an outstanding chef with their own philosophy and beliefs was shoved a piece of burnt meat and told it was "cooking," how would they feel? Unless they were exceptionally generous, they would want to crack that person's skull open—especially if they were someone who took their craft seriously.
'It wounds their pride and self-respect.'
To put Rem's actions into words, it was like shouting, 'That's not how you use sorcery!'
"What are you doing?"
A voice cut through his thoughts.
Encrid was lying on one side of the training ground with his eyes closed. The ground was damp, but lying on his cloak provided reasonable cushioning. Of course, it would have been better if the ground had been dried by warm sunlight, but the weather offered no such luxury.
Opening his eyes slightly at the call, he saw Grida.
Grida had returned to Encrid last night after finishing her three-day excursion. After their conversation, she had gone to her room, washed up, and slept.
She hadn't been able to sleep deeply. It felt as though the Clan Head might fling the door open at any moment, walk in, and ask: "What did you do for three days? What did you find out, my daughter?"
Of course, it wouldn't be in a warm tone. Her father, the Clan Head, rarely showed emotion, much like an elf. Sometimes, he even seemed like a man completely devoid of feeling.
What if her father had changed from the person she used to know? Anxiety plagued her. Even if it wasn't the Clan Head, she felt as though anyone might come to demand answers from her.
In truth, she secretly hoped they would. She wanted to know exactly which son of a bitch had done this to her family. To be honest, she had deliberately left traces of her movements over those three days, hoping the culprit would react.
'But nothing happened.'
No one asked, and no one questioned her.
Waking up in the morning with those thoughts, she saw Encrid resting on a patch of grass, lying down as if sunbathing. Since the sun wasn't even out, it couldn't be called sunbathing. What should she call it? Shade-bathing? Honestly, she just felt like cursing.
After asking her question, Grida immediately stepped aside. It was a reflexive reaction to sensing someone approaching from behind.
"Is today a rest day?" the newcomer asked.
Grida nodded, and Alexandra acknowledged her with only her eyes.
"Yes," Encrid replied, still lying down.
Encrid did as he had learned over time: he accepted that rest was just as important as training. This was no different for the Zaun family. The Zaun family designated at least one day out of ten as a Sabbath, ensuring they rested for three days every month. Their ancestors must have known that blindly swinging a sword every single day was not the answer.
'It is a system established and passed down through generations.'
There was no shortage of things to observe and learn here.
'Swinging the sword daily trains the body and clears stray thoughts.'
On rest days, one would deeply contemplate, ponder, and deliberate on the time spent training. Perhaps it was more accurate to say they did all their stray thinking in one go. They said it was a very old tradition. Knowing the importance of rest, Encrid also observed a Sabbath just like them.
In other words, there was no sparring today.
That didn't mean he skipped his basic training, however. At dawn, he had reflected on what he learned from Audin and swung his sword. Since the afternoon, he had been lying down like this, organizing the thoughts floating in his head.
Encrid knew he no longer had to swing his sword driven by the impatience of his past. That was why he could afford to do this. Of course, to an ordinary person, he had clearly trained and exercised today as well. But to anyone at the level of the Border Guard Standing Army, this would easily pass as half a rest day.
And to a member of the Order of Madness, this was definitely a complete break. From Encrid's perspective, it was safe to say he was being as lazy as Ragna.
"Those clouds are really black."
Encrid pointed toward the pitch-black clouds in the distance.
"We call them Black Storm Clouds. They're particularly nasty this time," Alexandra replied, turning her gaze to follow the tip of Encrid's finger.
Pitch-black clouds blanketed the sky, thick and dark. Beyond merely blocking the sunlight, it felt as though a new, black land had formed overhead. The massive, looming black cloud had become a world of its own, slowly drifting toward them.
"Once the rain starts pouring, the storm is going to cause quite a mess."
Alexandra showed a hint of concern. Encrid propped himself up slightly and looked at her, then at the shape of the houses lined up behind her.
'Was the reason they built stone houses to prepare for storms?'
The structures bore clear evidence of having taken root and remained here over the years. It was proof that the Zaun family had spent a significant amount of time in this place.
'Why?'
A small question arose. The Zaun family possessed power. Couldn't they leave this place and live elsewhere?
For instance, Hescal traveled between the three surrounding villages to handle the Zaun family's affairs, but he had mentioned that the surrounding terrain was too rugged to increase the number of merchant caravans traveling to and from the Broker's Village. Granted, because this place was close to the wilderness, rare herbs and fruits grew nearby, but he had also said they could simply hire gatherers for that.
To put it simply, the Broker's Village was a settlement where blacksmiths, merchants, and the like gathered.
"Still, I like it here."
Even as Hescal said that, he was a man who constantly worried about the future of the Zaun family.
Then what about Rynox? He often called himself a man who understood romance.
"No food? Then we live without it. If we need something, we get it as we go."
His opinion was the opposite of Hescal's. Hescal believed they could further increase the Zaun family's power, while Rynox was of the mind that there was no need to do so. Furthermore, in his youth, Rynox had been completely obsessed with swords and swordsmanship, living like a madman.
'And now, they say he's obsessed with nurturing the next generation.'
Yet, his eye for talent was terrible; he would grab just about anyone and say, "You are the greatest talent I have ever seen," at least five times a year. He was praising someone as a genius once every two months.
'He's just like the mercenary in my hometown.'
Encrid, too, had been deceived into thinking he was a genius and picked up the sword. But then again, Rynox's words couldn't exactly be called lies either. After all, most of those who endured and survived within the Zaun family deserved to be called geniuses. The number of knights they had here alone was at least five.
'And they call the Order of Madness an irregular force?'
The Zaun family here possessed a similar level of power.
In any case, while a few ignorant kids might fall for Rynox's sweet talk, everyone now knew about his fuss and learned to just brush it off. Yes, he understood romance.
'But he has no interest in reality.'
His dream was to travel the continent with a single sword. When asked, "For someone with that dream, don't you already carry six swords?" he had burst into laughter and replied, "Well, then I'll just leave five behind."
What did the two have in common?
'A life dedicated to protecting Zaun.'
Though their methods differed, their goal was the same. The reason Rynox remained here was to wait for a genius who would surpass him. He wanted to teach them everything he knew before leaving. He claimed he couldn't leave his post otherwise. He did so because he believed he still had work to do here.
In truth, Rynox was an exceptionally skilled warrior and an excellent teacher. He used entirely different styles of swordsmanship with each of his six swords. In terms of pure enjoyment, he was the most entertaining sparring partner.
Deviating from the concept of Jeong-Jung-Hwan-Kwae-Yu, his sword displayed a nature of freely striking and retreating. Within the framework of the grand system Encrid had constructed:
'Swordsmanship focused on extreme senses.'
Moment and restraint—those would be the two words to describe his swordsmanship. If he extended his hand, it became a path; if he stepped forward, it became a footwork pattern. He had developed over a hundred swordsmanship styles and dismantled over a hundred as well. Every day he created a style, and every day he broke a technique.
Is that why his nickname was the Destroyer with Six Hands?
'What an intuitive nickname.'
In the categories Grida had mentioned, Rynox was a delver, a researcher of swordsmanship.
'Classification and skill are separate matters.'
He learned yet another lesson here. When he had only heard stories, it seemed as though a pioneer's temperament was best suited to becoming the most outstanding expert.
'But whatever one's desires, and wherever one may be, constant and tireless effort leads to a high level of mastery.'
Hescal was similar. He was like Grida. He performed the role of a guardian, protecting the family's assets and people, maintaining and passing down the family's prosperity to the next generation. And regardless of being a guardian, in terms of pure swordsmanship, he did not fall behind Rynox. His swordsmanship was a calm, orthodox style.
However, it was flawless. Though he seemed to aim for a fight with neither victory nor defeat—
"He only acts like that because he enjoys fighting with his fangs hidden. He's a devious bastard."
Such was Rynox's assessment of him. They were said to be friends and rivals. Seeing how they now worked in their respective positions and occasionally shared a glass of wine, they were clearly friends. These were things Encrid felt after crossing swords and conversing with them.
Then what about the Clan Head?
'Heavy.'
He possessed immense patience and was the type of man who would walk straight into a dragon's maw to get what he wanted. Well, if he wasn't, then so be it, but that was the impression Encrid had received so far.
Then what about Alexandra?
She sought to embrace and accept anyone. It was just that her method of doing so was with a sword, rather than knitting them a pair of mittens.
'Andante has been away on external business for a month, which they said was on the Clan Head's orders.'
The world was full of mysteries. Encrid dealt with situations simply and clearly. If he didn't know, he would just ask.
"Alex, why doesn't anyone ask Grida what she was doing when she was away for a few days?"
Crack!
Another bolt of dry lightning struck. Though the broad daylight was as dark as night due to the black storm clouds, the surroundings lit up for a brief moment. The light bursting from the lightning seemed to peer at the gathered group before vanishing.
'Is this crazy bastard out of his mind?' Grida thought to herself, but outwardly, she only shot him a look that asked what kind of nonsense he was suddenly spouting. It was safe to say she had barely managed to keep her composure.
"That's an interesting question," Alexandra replied with a calm smile.
"Is it?" Encrid replied calmly. His expression remained unchanged.
"We respect our children's freedom. There's no need to hold onto grown adults and interrogate them about every little thing they do."
That did align with the family's temperament. If circumstances were normal, if nothing had happened, this would indeed be the right approach.
During their conversation, a few swordsmen of the Zaun family loitered nearby. They were mostly on the younger side. One could say they were at an age where their bodies itched to move, even when told to rest because of the Sabbath.
"I've thought of a new technique..."
One of them slunk over and spoke. Encrid replied flatly.
"Aren't we supposed to rest on the Sabbath?"
"They really don't listen, even when told to do so," Alexandra laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. "I told you today is a rest day."
"But everyone else is moving ahead, and I'm the only one getting rusty. Besides, if I catch the disease like this, I might collapse before I can even try anything."
A curse, or rather, a disease. Everyone staying in Zaun knew that it wasn't a curse. They were all striving to cure the disease. The old female healer, Milestia, was no exception.
Encrid's daily routine remained unchanged. Resting or training, it was all the same—a continuation of identical days.
But that was not the case for others. While he was active, the others had not been idling either.
Especially Anne.