Chapter 720: Combined, We Are
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 720: Combined, We Are
Since arriving in Zaun, Encrid had learned several techniques, but the most unique among them was the art of manipulating Will.
Of course, he had seen something similar within the Order of Madness. Hadn't Rem done so as well?
‘Will Transfer.’
That was Rem’s method of manipulating Will—severing a portion of his own Will and imbuing it into projectiles. It was a realm one wouldn't even dare attempt to reach without first attaining the rank of Knight. Only upon becoming an Associate Knight could one barely manage to infuse Will into a technique for a single, fleeting application.
Naturally, it was a power meant only for Knights, and it was understandably far more difficult than simply moving one's body. Yet, ironically, mastering this was twice as easy for Encrid as mastering physical techniques. Having a limitless supply of Will provided the perfect conditions for repeated, grueling training.
Of course, it wasn't something that could be learned while half-dozing or studying haphazardly, but Encrid was a man who gave his absolute all to everything he pursued. Moreover, even with just a spark of talent, the act of learning something new was incredibly exhilarating for him. Although controlling Will itself was difficult, he was thoroughly engrossed in the sheer joy of the challenge.
To be honest, even when practicing restraint and control, he poured out his Will without holding back. He had repeated the process over and over, completely draining his inexhaustible reserves until he felt a sensation akin to utter soul-deep exhaustion.
He had received plenty of guidance along the way.
"You shouldn't just use it; you must be able to shape it to your will," Rynox had once told him.
Alexandra had shown him something similar. They were the two most outstanding practitioners of Will manipulation within House Zaun.
Between the two, Rynox’s style was like playing a musical instrument without a single missed note. It required perfect execution, without the slightest margin of error, when both applying and releasing force. He achieved this by detaching only the exact amount of Will required. In other words: restraint.
Encrid’s own sense of restraint was modeled after Rynox. And restraint was difficult. He had to maintain constant, razor-sharp focus to control his Will. It was like filling a bowl to the absolute brim with water and carrying it without spilling a single drop. If one walked carefully, it was possible, but the slightest slip would send droplets splashing onto the floor.
Yet, he wasn't just walking; he was fighting in that state. Consequently, Encrid did spill a few drops. To be more honest, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he spilled enough to soak his clothes. Controlling Will was just that difficult for him.
On the other hand, Alexandra’s style was completely different. When he thought 'restraint is relatively difficult,' the point of comparison was Alexandra’s method.
Hers was different.
‘Setting fire to the tail of a galloping wild horse.’
A wild horse with its tail ablaze would bolt at a terrifying speed. There was no pacing oneself, nor any time to think about the consequences. What could one possibly think about when flames were licking at their heels?
It was like sprinting down a steep slope at terminal velocity. Running downhill is faster than running on flat ground, but far harder to control. Yet, Alexandra adhered to a style that threw control to the wind.
While Rynox sought to shape his Will, Alexandra manipulated its speed. Depending on the velocity at which she unleashed her Will, the speed of the sword in her hand changed accordingly.
And for someone with an inexhaustible supply of Will, unleashing it freely was much easier than controlling it. It couldn't be helped, given its massive volume. That was why control was so difficult—but ironically, that made practicing restraint all the more enjoyable.
It was, in a way, the pleasure of endurance. Encrid knew how to suppress his immediate desires to achieve a greater satisfaction.
And now, it was time to claim that greater pleasure.
The fire burning inside him did more than just incinerate impurities; it rampaged through his body. It was hot. His hands, his feet, his head—everything was burning.
‘Explosion.’
Encrid repeated that single word. If Rynox was restraint, Alexandra was explosion.
‘Burst.’
As the boiling Will coursed through his entire body, Encrid took a step. He sprinted, launching himself off Ragna’s shoulder. He raised his head and faced forward. Before his exploding Will, the Curse of Petrification sprayed by the Medusa meant absolutely nothing.
It truly didn't. The Medusa’s curse was useless. His Will of Rejection expanded into a shield twice its usual size, deflecting everything in its path.
His toes caught on the monster's scales. Stepping on the blade-like scales, he bent his knees and leaped upward. The path was rough, but hadn't he always enjoyed walking the hard road? Besides, this wasn't even that difficult a path.
There was no room for stray thoughts. He couldn't even properly utilize the cognitive acceleration he had gained upon becoming a Knight, which usually slowed his perception of his surroundings. The air, which normally felt as suffocatingly heavy as a swamp, felt normal now.
His body was just that light. He felt almost omnipotent.
He stepped on the scales again and again, pushing off with explosive force. His body soared upward as if it had forgotten the concept of weight. Had a poet witnessed this, they might have described it as the march of an imugi ascending against all odds.
Kyaaaah!
The Medusa lowered her head and unhinged her maw. A green, toxic mist spread in a circular wave, repelling the raindrops and blocking his path.
Encrid held his breath and tightened his grip on Samcheol.
T-t-t-t—cliiiiing.
It sounded like a noise heard while submerged deep underwater. The sound felt distant, as if muffled by an invisible veil.
Crack.
The scabbard split. Infused with violent force, Samcheol shattered its sheath the moment it was drawn.
Encrid’s sword lunged toward the Medusa’s neck. The blade struck with the Ink Gold edge. Even within his terrifyingly accelerated perception, the strike was fast.
*
"Crazy bastard."
Anahera, who was picking herself up after losing her balance, witnessed what Encrid had done. Having somehow pierced through the horde of monsters to move forward, what Encrid did was vividly clear to her. In fact, everyone could see it.
No one here was so dull as to miss the Medusa, who had been spraying the Curse of Petrification from the front. And with him performing a sword dance right on top of her, how could they look away?
It also helped that the Medusa had focused her curse entirely on Encrid instead of spreading it widely, giving everyone else a moment to breathe.
Everyone watched.
The man who had leaped off the Medusa’s tail shattered his scabbard, drew his sword, and swung it like a bolt of lightning. Even as he ascended, he looked like lightning surging upward from the earth, and his swinging sword looked even more so.
Lightning manifested through the medium of a blade, striking the monster’s neck.
CRASH!
A roar erupted, like a boulder thrown by a trebuchet smashing into a castle wall. The scales on the Medusa’s neck bristled, standing up like a shield, but Encrid shattered them with sheer force and tore through her throat. Black blood gushed from the shredded wound.
A black shower mingled with the thinning rain. Yet, the Medusa endured. Was it because her neck hadn't been completely severed? Even with her throat half-cut, she spewed toxic mist, and the snakes serving as her hair surged downward as if to prove they weren't just for show.
Anahera almost screamed a warning without realizing it.
But before she could, Encrid’s sword moved frantically, carving lines through the air. The blade, freed from its shattered scabbard, moved without pause, severing every snake head targeting him before slicing through the rest of the Medusa’s neck.
SHLUCK!
Once again, a gruesome sound echoed, and the Medusa’s head tumbled through the air. A final scream erupted from the dying monster’s mouth.
Kreeeeeeeeeee!
Thud!
As the head hit the ground, the sorcery snake that had been wailing in the sky immediately began to fade.
Shhhhhhh!
Amidst the pouring rain, the Medusa’s massive carcass collapsed with a heavy thud. And atop it stood a man, his sword plunged deep into the monster's neck.
"Holy shit."
Unable to contain her thrill, Anahera let out a wild roar.
Wooooooah!
To the roar unleashed by the giant’s vocal cords, the shouts of humans joined in.
"Uwaaaaah!"
It was a cry unleashed by everyone watching. It was a natural reaction; he had single-handedly tipped the scales back to balance just as they were about to collapse.
Then, from behind the standing Encrid, a large black mass flew in and exploded.
Bang!
Subsequently, his body was engulfed in black flames. It happened in a moment no one could have anticipated, leaving everyone agape and unable to react.
What is that? Why isn't that fire going out in the rain?
Questions filled Anahera’s mind. Alexandra, watching from the side, was in a similar state of shock.
"Odinkar."
"Yes, I see it too."
The one who had appeared behind her at the last moment was Odinkar. He had fought in her stead. Although the Head of House had told him to hide and wait for another day, he had entered the battlefield anyway.
"It is because I hung around Ragna and got infected by him," he had said.
"If you listened to warnings, you wouldn't be a child of Zaun," Alexandra had replied with a nod.
It was after he had spent a long time hacking and slashing to rescue Alexandra. While securing her safety and guarding the perimeter, Encrid had slain the Medusa. Ragna’s presence earlier had been no small feat either.
The disappearance of the sorcery snake was a moment that brought hope to everyone. Yet, the very person who had accomplished all of this was now engulfed in black flames.
Alexandra’s body was in no fit state. Exploding Will placed a massive strain on the body. It was an act that severed nerves and ruptured muscles. Of course, it could be managed with proper control, but she hadn't had the luxury for that.
"Guard this place, Odin."
The Head of House, who had approached in the meantime, spoke.
Tempest Zaun—he had ultimately slain the four monsters that had closed in. In terms of ability, each of those monsters was more than capable of killing a Knight, but the Head of House had endured. In exchange, Rynox was heavily injured, and though Tempest’s face was pale and haggard, he still walked on his own two feet.
"I am coming too."
They were people who wouldn't listen even if told to rest. Odinkar wanted to tell both of them to stay back, but he knew the situation did not allow for it.
"It would be better if I went," he offered instead.
"It’s an order. Guard this place. I am on my way to look upon the face of the bastard who has tormented my family for twenty years. There will be no concessions."
The Head of House spoke resolutely and turned. Even then, Encrid remained engulfed in black flames.
*
No matter how relatively easy it was to learn the art of manipulating Will, it wasn't something that could be mastered overnight. This was true for restraint, and it was no different for explosion. It was something he needed to research, train, and internalize more deeply in the future, but he had forced it out and used it anyway.
It hurts.
Pain had surged through his entire body from the moment the Medusa’s neck—which should have been severed in a single strike—was only cut halfway.
Not yet.
He could endure. The rampaging Will was still wild within his body, like a stallion yearning for freedom. Encrid granted it that freedom.
He consumed his Will in rapid succession to swing his sword. Balancing himself in midair, he sliced off the incoming snake heads, then used the Truesilver edge to finish severing the Medusa’s head.
And for a brief moment, he blacked out.
The gap was extremely brief, but it was enough for the Ferryman to show his face. Before he could even feel the rippling river water, the Ferryman standing at the gunwale spoke.
"If you were to do it once more, could you do it better? Do you truly believe luck will favor you so repeatedly?"
What could be felt from his short, heavy words was neither malice nor goodwill. It was a tone that calmly discussed reality—a warning that repeating today would not guarantee the same outcome.
Before he could even reply, his consciousness snapped back to reality. The figure of the Ferryman vanished in an instant.
It was as brief as the blink of an eye.
He stood atop the dead Medusa’s carcass, his blade embedded near her neck. Even if he were beaten to death, he couldn't move right now. He needed at least a few moments to catch his breath and restore some energy to his body, but at that exact moment, a thick, sweet scent entered his nostrils.
A spell.
He recognized it, but his body was too slow to react. A black mass flew in from behind and exploded.
Whoosh.
Flames spread across his entire body. Normally, it should have been agonizing, but it wasn't. Encrid saw a faint green light enveloping his body. The light carried Sinar’s scent—the scent of grass in a deep forest, and a refreshing coolness akin to drinking dawn dew.
Crackle.
Encrid felt the undergarments given to him by the elves crumbling beneath his armor. Like dry autumn leaves, the fabric dried up and disintegrated. A rough, gritty sensation remained on his skin. In exchange, Encrid was able to escape the black flames.
He let his body fall backward, then regained his balance and rolled across the ground. As he executed a breakfall, every part of his body seemed to scream in agony. Blood dripped steadily from the palm gripping Samcheol.
While a mistake in restraint merely meant spilling a few drops of water, an explosion was akin to carving up one's own muscles with a blade if one couldn't stop it properly. He supposed he should be glad his bones weren't broken.
This hurts like hell.
On top of that, a profound sense of exhaustion washed over him. If used without moderation, this could easily be called a suicidal technique. Drunk on a sense of omnipotence, if he were to use Will recklessly, he would end up bleeding from every orifice until he died. It was a future obvious even without foresight.
"An elven item?"
It was the Three-Eyed Old Man. Beside him was a young woman with a horn on her forehead, and behind them was a grotesque monster that looked as though flesh had been haphazardly slapped onto a robed skeleton.
Yes, a monster. Calling that thing a human would be an insult to all intelligent life.
"Indeed, you managed to bring down even the Medusa. That fellow Hescal was so confident, yet look at this mess."
Only the old man spoke. The monster standing behind him merely stared back and forth between Encrid and Ragna with a protruding eyeball that barely hung in its socket.
Even without being told, Encrid knew his identity.
"Pleasure to meet you, Demuil."
Encrid spoke. He ignored the old man and addressed the monster standing behind him.
The diseased soul residing in the necrotic, rotting flesh opened its mouth.
"Indeed."
Even his voice seemed to reek of decay.
"I believe I should introduce myself."
Along with his words, Encrid coughed up a glob of blood. His internal organs throbbed with pain. His physical condition was undoubtedly a mess. Still, he had to say this.
"I am swordsman number one."
Then, the man who had been influenced by Encrid chimed in from beside him.
"I am swordsman number two."
Suppressing a cough, Encrid completed the mockery aimed at their opponent.
"And combined, we are merely two swordsmen."
Now that the opportunity to mock his enemy had come, how could he not wag his tongue?
"...You are madmen."
As Demuil’s voice betrayed his sheer bewilderment, he seemed, for a brief moment, almost human.