Chapter 731: Imperial Swordsmanship
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 731: Imperial Swordsmanship
Intimidation. It was a unique technique used by those who wielded Will.
Where did it begin?
A cat radiates killing intent, freezing the mouse in its tracks. Monsters are capable of the same. They instill primal fear in sapient races, humans included. It is easy to imagine a person paralyzed by terror before a beast, unable to tear their eyes away as they tremble and wait for death.
‘Once a monster reaches a certain level...’
They learn how to weaponize fear. That was the origin of Intimidation. It was the art of crushing an opponent’s mind and dominating them through sheer dread.
It was easy to understand if one recalled the first time they experienced it. It was a crushing pressure that made one feel as if their throat would be slit at any moment.
"Just like Intimidation, if you go back to ancient times, the origin of Will is likely similar. Imperial scholars theorize that the first knight awakened Will while pondering the source of a monster's absurd strength. Another one trying his luck?"
Balmung smirked as he spoke.
Before they had departed, Rynox mentioned that Balmung was ill-mannered. Even Schmidt had seemed displeased about the two of them leaving, rambling on incessantly.
"For now, I must return to the Empire as well. I have to report this. A legendary alchemist turning into a monster, claiming to be a god, and then dying is no small matter."
Part of it was because his injured leg prevented him from keeping up with Encrid and Balmung’s pace, but reporting the incident to the Empire was a major task in its own right. Even so, Schmidt had repeatedly urged Balmung.
"Encrid of the Border Guard will become a pillar of the Empire."
This was not something Encrid particularly agreed with. He had never said he would go to the Empire, nor had he shown any interest, so he wondered why Schmidt kept insisting on it.
"Me?" he had interrupted to ask.
"It means you are highly valued," Schmidt repeated, while Balmung simply picked his ear. Still, Schmidt couldn't nag him any further.
The hierarchy between the two was clear. Balmung was the superior; Schmidt was the subordinate. And the reason Rynox called him ill-mannered was precisely because of behavior like this.
"Ghouls."
Balmung loved the sound of snapping bones.
Mid-sentence, he kicked off the ground and lunged forward, grabbing a ghoul’s arm and snapping it with a sharp crack. It happened before the creature could even extend its limb. A few more monsters lunged, but they all met a similar fate. Their limbs were shattered, and as they squirmed on the ground, their necks were crushed underfoot.
Only the sounds of crack, crunch, and snap echoed through the air.
"Monsters don't feel that great to break," he remarked afterward.
Balmung did not hide his desires. He spoke them aloud.
"Giant bones are the most fun. The sound made when you break something that looks unbreakable is truly magnificent."
Hearing him say that a giant’s bone breaking sounded like a stone pillar snapping, Encrid realized this fellow was definitely not normal.
"So, the origin of Intimidation was mimicking a monster’s killing intent, and the origin of Will developed from observing the absurd strength displayed by their massive bodies?" Encrid summarized to wrap up the conversation.
They walked a dry path under a warm sun, where green grass had sprouted to carpet the ground beneath their feet. Flowers peeked out here and there, but since it wasn't a path frequented by people, the trail was rugged.
It was an untamed, wild path. With jagged rocks jutting out everywhere, the ground—which had looked flat from a distance—was bumpy and treacherous. They crossed several ridges like this, but they weren't heading toward the Border Guard.
Although they hadn't found any tracks along the way or received specific information, Balmung chose their direction without hesitation.
"Some say that, while other scholars say otherwise."
The Empire had unified the continent’s language and currency. At one point, they had attempted to rule the entire central continent, but they had stopped. The reason was unknown. That was why even Krang always kept a close eye on the Empire’s movements.
Encrid also shared some of his own stories. After all, was it not a virtue to give when one received? Even if he couldn't perfectly balance the scales.
Count Molsen and Demuil came up during his tales. As he spoke of chimeras and the process of forcing people to become knights...
"Mass-producing knights? That won't do. A knight, so to speak, is a one-of-a-kind handicraft made by an artisan. To put it simply, something made from a cast copper plate will only crack and break easily. It requires relentless training and must be carved with craftsmanship to have meaning. How does the Empire do it? A knight guides a knight."
Balmung spoke with firm conviction and hid nothing. He even casually revealed the Empire’s method of training knights. They maintained a large number of knights, and those knights led other candidates.
‘Circulation.’
Going round and round, maintaining and increasing their numbers. Encrid learned yet another thing. Was this good fortune? He had to consider it so. He felt that once he returned to the Border Guard, he would be able to try various things.
‘A knight guides a knight.’
That core concept was engraved into his mind.
"Do you think the Empire is evil?"
"I wouldn't know."
Encrid did not rashly judge what he had not experienced. Balmung was secretly impressed. He took a great liking to Encrid’s attitude, though he still had to see more of his skills.
No matter how experienced Balmung was, at this level, it was difficult to judge someone just by looking at their exterior. If their level was clumsy, he could gauge their skill by their gait; if they were better than that, he could tell by their reactions.
‘But I can't quite read this fellow.’
Conversely, Encrid was also unable to gauge Balmung’s skill. However, both knew from experience that this was only natural. Encrid knew that even if he used the Head of House Zaun as a benchmark, this man wouldn't fall far behind. Balmung also knew that Encrid was not some pampered flower knight raised on the continent.
"Some in the Empire call the continent’s knights 'flower knights,'" Balmung said with a chuckle.
Even though there was barely any place to step, Encrid walked on the sharp stones without losing his balance in the slightest. His ankles were flexible, and he only needed to apply strength starting from his calves up to his thighs and pelvis. It looked simple, but he was walking in a way that allowed him to move in any direction and swing his sword at any moment.
Walking like this could be mentally exhausting, but because he was so accustomed to traversing rugged paths, Encrid asked back in an utterly calm tone.
"I suppose it means that if you don't struggle endlessly, you stagnate?"
"You're a fellow who understands ten things when taught one."
Since it wasn't a compliment he heard often, it felt a bit awkward. While Encrid maintained his balance, Balmung applied force to his feet, crushing stones to forge his own path.
"The world is not simple, Encrid of the Border Guard."
"Did I say it was?"
He hadn't. Balmung nodded quietly. Having conversed a few times, he realized it was hard to win an argument against this fellow.
What should they do now? Balmung did not hide his interest in Encrid.
By evening, the two found a place to stay—a small cave. They lit a campfire right in front of the entrance. Since they hadn't brought a pot, they were simply roasting jerky when Balmung suddenly spoke.
"Want to learn some techniques?"
He wasn't asking to spar or exchange techniques; he was offering to teach them outright. Encrid was not one to refuse such an offer.
*
Balmung knew an incredibly wide variety of techniques.
"You don't need to master them right away. Just knowing them is enough."
To pinpoint the core, they were highly detailed counter-methods. He would grapple, lock arms, or break free depending on the opponent’s weapon and stance, and every single one of these methods was born of experience. Thus, they weren't Imperial Swordsmanship or official techniques.
In particular, the grappling techniques used while holding a sword were a feast of skills not found in Valaf-style Martial Arts. While each individual technique wasn't mind-blowing, they broadened his perspective. The more minor techniques one knew, the better.
Knowing this, Encrid sweated profusely as he memorized and executed them, determined not to miss a single detail. Perhaps Balmung found his eagerness pleasing.
Balmung brought up his own past.
"I'm from the Eli Mercenaries. Have you heard of us?"
He spoke while they gripped each other’s wrists. Their faces were apart, in a stance where Encrid’s right ankle and Balmung’s left ankle crossed. Though their hands and feet were tangled, their torsos remained apart. Balmung always smelled of dust—the scent of opening a chest or a warehouse that had been shut for a long time.
"Vaguely."
It was a name famous before the Mercenary King Anu dominated the continent. It was a mercenary group named after a man named Eli, but it was said that his three centurions actually fought better than Eli himself. Balmung was one of those three centurions.
"You must be older than you look."
"Once you awaken Will, you age slowly. Will is a power derived from willpower, but it is also a life force that fills the entire body."
Sometimes, the words that came out of Balmung’s mouth were pedantic. Practical, yet pedantic. Speaking of it this way overlapped two contradictory concepts.
‘The world is not simple.’
A person cannot be judged by looking at only one side. Because he had not forgotten what he learned from observing Hescal, Encrid simply accepted it as it was.
Is the Empire evil? He could give the same answer to that question. One doesn't know until they experience it.
Clack, thud!
Balmung twisted his wrist to deflect. Encrid thought he was applying force to his ankle to disrupt his balance, but instead, Balmung shook off the gripped hand to widen the distance and back away.
"Since this is my main weapon, there's no need for me to force close-quarters combat, right?" Balmung said, tapping his waist. An angular blunt weapon made its presence known there.
‘Since a blunt weapon is his main, he prioritized widening the distance.’
Knowing the objective made it easier to read a person’s actions.
‘The core of the Orthodox Sword Style.’
The more he understood his opponent, the easier they were to read. This was why he had to hone his insight. Of course, he could also read the inner thoughts of an opponent who believed they had seen through him and use that to his advantage. Whatever the case, knowing the opponent allowed one to seize the upper hand.
That was likely also the reason Balmung had offered to teach him techniques. Balmung was currently measuring Encrid—his specialty, his habits.
Interestingly, in a situation like this, Encrid could make Balmung’s head spin.
‘Jeong-Jung-Hwan-Kwae-Yu, not bound by the five.’
The more Balmung watched, the more he judged Encrid to be an enigma.
After about three days of talking, teaching, and learning techniques, they spotted their target. It was a wide, basin-like area roughly halfway up the mountain range. Only short grass grew there, giving the place a desolate feel. There were almost no trees, and sunlight barely reached the ground. Several mountain peaks stood in positions that perfectly blocked the sun.
In a place where a chill had settled instead of summer’s heat, a man holding a longsword could be seen. He had scars on his eyebrows and lips, and even without them, his appearance was sinister. Seeing that his right arm was long, he must have spent a long time training with a sword in his right hand. His appearance was not particularly shabby for someone who had been on the run for a long time.
‘Even while fleeing, he managed to eat and live relatively well.’
That was the conclusion.
"Bastards, you're persistent as hell," the man said. Balmung spoke with a broad smile on his face.
"I'll make you a promise."
What followed was something Encrid had not expected at all.
"If you defeat this fellow standing next to me, you are free. Gelt."
Gelt was the name of the man who had caused all sorts of trouble as a bandit leader and was now being hunted. Originally, he was an Imperial soldier who had risen to the rank of knight.
"Now, didn't you say you wanted to see Imperial Swordsmanship? I seem to have sprained my ankle earlier, so it's hard for me to fight."
Balmung made a ridiculous excuse, but Encrid readily went along with the joke.
"Then you should rest."
Rustle, rustle.
He stepped forward, treading on the damp, low-lying, moss-like grass.
"Who are you? Are you from the Empire?" the opponent asked, perched on a large, blunt boulder. Gelt had taken up the sword because he loved the sensation of cutting people down. Fighting the strong made it hard to enjoy the sensation of cutting; instead, he preferred hearing the screams of women and children.
This was what Balmung had told him on the way. A man like Gelt would indeed be like that. There was no reason to fabricate such a story.
Shring.
Encrid drew Samcheol, held it upright, and looked at Gelt.
"No."
"A lackey he dragged around during his mercenary days?"
"No."
"Then what are you?"
Gelt said, lifting himself off the boulder and pointing his sword. The tip of his blade pointed diagonally toward the sky, but the weapon seemed to shield his body. That was how it felt. In other words, Intimidation was taking physical form.
"In the Empire, that is the basis of wielding Intimidation," Balmung’s voice drifted from behind.
Imperial Swordsmanship was one step ahead of the continent’s. One could tell just by hearing about it. And experiencing it now would make it even clearer.
He focused and looked ahead. The blowing wind, the sunlight, the elongated shadows, the sensation of the ground beneath his feet. He brought everything into his sensory domain.
Encrid prepared the Sword of Chance.