Chapter 70: Isolation Technique
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 70: Isolation Technique
The foundation of the Isolation Technique was physical burden.
It focused on enhancing athletic prowess through repetitive movements performed under heavy weights. This meant that training with such loads didn't simply stop at increasing raw muscle strength.
“Shall we begin?”
A month had passed. In a corner of the training ground where the winter chill still lingered, Encrid proposed a spar. Audin smiled and nodded.
“Which do you prefer, Brother? Your arms or your legs?”
It was a blatant threat that he intended to snap one of them.
“You talk too much, Audin.”
Both were empty-handed. Encrid hadn't spent the entire month learning only the Isolation Technique.
The two glared at each other. To meet Audin’s eyes, Encrid had to tilt his head back. The difference in their physiques was staggering.
Yet, it was Audin who moved first.
With a light tap, the moment his feet left the ground, he lunged while staying low. He was so fast that a momentary afterimage trailed behind him. It was a speed that defied his nickname, the Praying Bear.
In the past, Encrid’s best response would have been a desperate knee strike.
But things were different now.
He lowered his stance in kind, clenching his fists with his thumbs raised as if to thrust. It was a position designed to gouge out the eyes if the opponent rushed in blindly.
Seeing this, Audin aborted his charge and bounced to the side. With rapid thuds against the earth, his massive frame repositioned itself as swiftly as Esther. He moved like a nimble panther.
His agility and reflexes were a direct contradiction to his size.
Knowing the fight would end the moment he allowed his back to be taken, Encrid spun rapidly to keep pace. Then, in a flash, Audin threw a punch.
Before he knew it, they were within arm's reach. Encrid couldn't even tell when the gap had closed.
He entered a state of Single-Point Focus.
Encrid judged and acted within the split seconds of fractured time. He thrust his forehead forward, attempting to intercept the punch before it reached full extension. It was a wrestling technique—a way to take a hit without sustaining serious damage.
Mid-punch, Audin opened his palm and snatched a handful of Encrid’s hair. Then, yanking the hair downward, he drove his left elbow into Encrid’s back, throwing his entire weight into a crushing press.
For a brief moment, Encrid withstood Audin’s immense strength and weight. He didn't just endure; he attempted to heave Audin over his back.
Audin did not let himself be thrown so easily. Keeping his weight pressed down, he yanked Encrid’s hair forward with uncanny timing. Encrid’s center of gravity faltered. He couldn't move his body as he wished; his balance was gone.
There was nothing left to do.
Thud.
Encrid shielded his face with his hands as Audin pinned him to the dirt.
“You gave up your whole body instead of just an arm or a leg, Squad Leader Brother.”
Audin roared with laughter—a hearty, cheerful sound.
“If this were a battlefield, I would have been wearing a helmet,” Encrid grunted from beneath him, referring to his hair being grabbed.
Audin chuckled in response. “Then I would have used other means.”
He was right. Encrid hadn't spoken out of bitterness; he was genuinely curious about those "other means."
“If you had a helmet, I would have grabbed the nape of your neck or pressed down on the back of your head to pin you instantly.”
“I see.”
He remained pinned under Audin. The weight of the Praying Bear was so immense it felt like his organs might burst, but to Encrid, the lesson he had just learned was far more important.
Leaving the deeply focused Encrid behind, Audin brushed himself off and stood up.
A month. To anyone else, it might have been a routine mind-numbing enough to drive them mad, but to Encrid, these days had become a calm, steady rhythm.
In the mornings, he practiced the Isolation Technique. After lunch, he learned wrestling. Until dinner, he trained in swordsmanship. After eating, he spent his nights reflecting on everything he had learned.
The Beast's Heart, the Blade's Sense, and Single-Point Focus.
All of them had room for improvement. Why stop when he could still grow?
Yet, his pace of learning was agonizingly slow. This remained true even with the support of his unique abilities.
So, Encrid crawled. He was a slow snail, a tortoise that had dragged itself onto land.
“You really do improve slowly,” Audin said, adjusting his clothes.
Since the cold had not yet receded, white steam billowed from his shoulders. It was the same for Encrid. Both the Isolation Technique and wrestling were activities that left them drenched in sweat.
Encrid turned Audin’s teachings over in his mind again and again. It was worth the effort.
How to gauge skill.
The body holds all the information. For instance, a right-handed swordsman’s right arm muscles tend to be more developed. It was an eye for reading an opponent’s experience and level of training just by observing their physique. This was a new realization he had gained through the Isolation Technique.
What he learned afterward was equally valuable. After establishing his physical foundation, he moved on to wrestling. Audin broadly divided wrestling into three categories: strikes, joint locks, and throws. He claimed that if an opponent was smaller, simply throwing and slamming them would end the fight instantly.
“What if I’m the smaller one?” Encrid asked. He was a good listener, but he always had questions. He never let a detail slide.
Every time he asked, Audin would think: This is precisely the Squad Leader’s strength.
“If you are smaller, you fight like a small person. Those skilled in joint locks, strikes, and hand-to-hand combat use their opponent’s own strength against them. Counters are the essence of that method.”
What the elf company commander had done must have been something like that. The technique that had brought him down with a single gesture came to mind. Indeed, Audin had demonstrated that very method.
Audin was a kind teacher. While he was a demon during the Isolation Technique training, he was quite gentle when teaching wrestling.
“If you apply more force here, the arm will break and the joint will be ruined. Unless divine healing is provided, it won't recover, leaving you crippled.”
Even a minor mistake could result in Encrid’s body being dismantled bare-handed. Naturally, the wrestling lessons were a tempered version of the real thing.
“Strength and speed are essential, of course. Beyond that, you must learn to identify vital points, how to bring someone down, how to break bones, and how to shatter joints. None of these can be learned half-heartedly. Therefore, you must repeat what you have already learned rather than constantly seeking something new. And yet, you still want to learn more?”
Sometimes Audin scolded him. It was understandable. Encrid tried to cram as much as possible into his body rather than mastering a single technique.
This is the right way.
For Encrid, there was only the repetition of "today." He didn't expect to master these techniques immediately. To Audin, it looked like greed exceeding his physical capacity, but to Encrid, this was the only path.
His reflections were shattered by Audin’s voice.
“Why do you think your hair was grabbed just now?”
“The distance.”
Encrid answered flatly. It wasn't that he had been caught off guard because he didn't know; he just hadn't been fast enough.
“Indeed. The distance. Even though I’ve told you countless times, you are truly dull and slow, Squad Leader Brother.”
Encrid remained unfazed. He didn't have the time to be hurt by words. He was too busy repeating the day's lessons in his mind. There were dozens of types of joint locks alone. Just memorizing them and hammering them into his muscle memory pushed him to his limits. On top of that, he had to learn throws, strikes, and the basic principles of leverage.
“I have told you time and again. Stamina is essential. Reading the distance is the same as in swordsmanship. And finally, if you are not agile, everything is useless.”
Audin was a good teacher. Not because his pedagogy was excellent, but because he didn't know how to give up. Even though Encrid was slow and showed no visible growth, Audin taught him with stubborn persistence.
For Encrid, this was the perfect mentor. Since stubborn teaching was bound to leave a trace in his body and mind, Encrid pushed mastery to a later date and learned with equal stubbornness.
“Stamina, distance, athletic ability,” Encrid repeated to himself.
Whether it was a sword, a spear, a blunt weapon, or wrestling, strength and speed were the bedrock. He had become accustomed to measuring distance, but Audin was far more proficient. That was why he had been caught.
“Did you roll around in the dirt again today?”
When he returned from wrestling practice, Rem was waiting.
“Are you going to rest today?” It was the same question every time.
“No.”
This time, it was the sword. Sometimes he used a wooden sword, but lately, a real blade felt more comfortable. He aimed his longsword at Rem. He didn't only face Rem; on some days, it was Ragna.
“Watching you makes me want to have a go, Squad Leader,” Ragna would say.
On other days, Sachsen would step forward. “I have some spare time. Draw your sword.”
Without exception, none of them ever refused Encrid’s requests. Yet, they all shared similar thoughts.
Rem often wondered: What kind of talent is this? Does he only improve in real combat?
On the battlefield, Encrid’s skills seemed to improve by the day, but upon returning to the territory, he seemed to reset to square one. He was better than before, certainly, but there was no dramatic growth. At least, not to Rem’s eyes.
The only reason he was improving at all was thanks to the Beast's Heart, Single-Point Focus, the Blade's Sense, and the Isolation Technique. Because of the latter, the very quality of his muscles was changing. Of course, a single month couldn't bring about a total transformation. He was merely moving forward half a step at a time. Like a slow snail, he advanced.
Ragna thought similarly. His basics are solid, so why is he so slow to learn the applications?
Had his talent finally blossomed at thirty, only for him to become a fool again? It was a mystery. Even so, Ragna showed enthusiasm. Encrid was a person who naturally inspired motivation in others.
Every day, regardless of duty or circumstances, he repeated the same intense training. If he had morning duty, he would hold a heavy stone late into the evening and strike strange poses. It was the same for wrestling and swordsmanship. He carved time out of his sleep and his meals.
During collective unit training, the others—Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, Audin, and Krais—would often slack off, but Encrid poured his entire soul into every drill. Afterward, he would return to the training ground and start his personal routine all over again. He was persistent to a sickening degree.
Sachsen was equally baffled. His senses...
Encrid’s hearing was at a level where it was as if he had eyes on the back of his head. Yet, the sharpness of his senses had plateaued there. Why? Was it the teacher’s fault, or the student’s?
The problem lies with the learner, Sachsen concluded. Having taught many before, he knew this. That was why it was so baffling—how incredibly slow his improvement was.
And yet, he never gives up. He’s unique. Sachsen almost let a smile slip before returning to his usual stoic mask. As if the Squad Leader matters. Despite the thought, he always gave his best during their sessions. A natural rotation had formed among the teachers, and Sachsen was the most diligent of them all.
Esther watched the man she had chosen. Her panther-like blue eyes tracked his every move. How could anyone be like that?
There was a time when she, too, had been obsessed with the Spell World. Immersed in it all day, she had needed nothing else—neither food nor sleep.
And that was how I ended up like this.
Esther chewed on her past before looking at Encrid again. He is different from me.
His routine was simple and repetitive. He treated eating, sleeping, and resting as vital parts of his schedule. He was a person for whom the phrase “resting diligently” fit perfectly. Watching him made her want to help. He was just that kind of person.
In truth, Encrid had no time to look around. He was too busy engraving techniques into his own body. He had always been a training-obsessed bastard, but lately, it had reached a new level. The Isolation Technique was the catalyst.
The quality of my muscles is changing.
He almost wanted to strip and check himself in a mirror. He felt the change more acutely than anyone. When movements that used to be difficult suddenly flowed smoothly, he was driven mad with joy.
From thrusts to the basics of the Heavy Sword Style—performing them with his transforming body felt different. It was fluid. Even the deflections of the Soft Sword Style were becoming familiar.
Clang!
Blade met blade. He had just deflected Rem’s axe to the side.
“You’ve gotten a bit better,” Rem acknowledged. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
At the root of it all was the Isolation Technique.
“Do you regret not learning this sooner?” Audin had once asked. He wondered if Encrid thought it was too late to start building his body.
“No,” Encrid had replied, shaking his head.
He had no regrets. If such regrets lingered, he would have already been trapped in "today." Back then, the things he learned were what mattered. Focusing entirely on the present was the only way.
During that month, he had dreamed of the ferryman exactly once.
“You live no differently than if you were trapped in today,” the ferryman had said, resting his chin on his hand with an air of total boredom before fading away.
The ferryman was right. Encrid had spent a month that was a literal repetition of "today." The only variables were his duty hours and the weather.
“If you had learned it before, your body wouldn't have been able to accept it,” Audin had told him. Encrid didn't care. What mattered was right now.
Before he knew it, the harshest part of winter had passed its midpoint.
“Let’s talk for a moment.”
On one of those cold days, the elf company commander came to find him. Standing with their back to the wind, the commander stared at him with piercing green eyes.
“It’s a mission.”
Members of the Border Guard Standing Army were drafted individually as needed. Fighting on the front lines wasn't their only duty.
“Yes.”
“It is an escort mission for the successor of a merchant guild. Draft one person from the 4th Squad and bring them along.”
The commander delivered the order. Encrid had to obey.
Requests and missions—originally, he hadn't been fond of them. But now, he was interested in accumulating achievements. Building his strength and rising through the ranks—that was the path to becoming a knight.