Chapter 743: Loss
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 743: Loss
"So, you slaughtered every last demonic beast and finally escaped the 'today' I prepared for you."
The undulating river, the violet lamp, and the appearance of the Ferryman made him realize this was no dream.
Encrid sat on the gunwale, staring into the distance before turning his head.
For some reason, no matter where he looked, there was no end in sight. More accurately, only the 'end' was visible.
It felt as if he were enclosed on all sides. Even though the river flowed and the lights stretched on endlessly, the claustrophobia remained. If asked why, he could only say it simply felt that way.
"Congratulations. You, a mere mortal who will eventually crave immortality—O prisoner."
His words carried a pedantic weight.
The Ferryman was feeling poetic today. Or perhaps he simply looked like a sage seeking the truth.
"I've never yearned for immortality."
"You will."
"Are you so sure?"
Even after being defeated like that all this time?
That was the unspoken question underlying Encrid's words.
The corners of the Ferryman's mouth curled. He smiled quite often now, a stark contrast to their first meeting.
"In the end, the moment you are locked in the prison of regret, you will beg and plead. You won't believe me, and you won't accept it. I know. Therefore, I shall show you."
The Ferryman raised an empty hand. His robe fluttered upward, but the interior was pitch-black, as if painted over with void, revealing nothing.
The moment Encrid's gaze was drawn into that darkness, his surroundings shifted. He was no longer on the boat.
On pitch-black earth, Encrid knelt on one knee, cradling someone in his arms.
"Leave me behind. Do what you have to do. Fuck..."
Blood-matted hair had turned a shade duller than its usual gray.
Rem was dying. There was nothing to be done.
"I am well aware that the future is mutable. Yes, this is likely a very distant future."
The Ferryman's voice echoed from all directions.
It wasn't snide or wicked. It was calm. He was merely presenting a highly probable prediction of what was to come.
Which only made it feel all the more real.
Rem died. Encrid watched as the man drew his final breath in his arms.
"That is the first 'today' you will obtain in the future."
Loss. The act of losing someone.
The Ferryman's intention was clear.
Harbor this anguish. Do you truly wish to face such agonizing days?
Encrid understood the intent, but he had no intention of playing along.
Furthermore...
It hasn't happened yet.
There was no way to know. If that were the case, worrying about it now would change nothing.
Therefore, all he had to do was shake it off, get up, and do what needed to be done.
*
Encrid woke from the dream and opened his eyes. The scent of water immediately filled his nose. The damp air that had lingered since last night had finally given way to a steady drizzle.
"Hup."
Encrid rose lightly from the bed. He quite liked its moderately firm texture.
The bed was a gift from Sinar. He recalled her saying it was stuffed with special leaves.
Once up, Encrid stripped off his shirt and stepped outside wearing only thin trousers.
"Are you awake, brother?"
Audin, built like a bear, greeted him with a bright smile.
"You're up early."
"It is the week of dawn prayers."
A priest serving the God of War was faithfully observing his prayer week.
Even within the Holy City of Legion, there were likely few as devout as him. Except, perhaps, for the Ragged Saint, Audin's spiritual father.
He had heard the Saint was heading to Legion. Apparently, he had departed after receiving a request midway, and a letter from Sir Overdear had arrived as well.
Someone like Sir Overdear would certainly be devout.
Other than him, perhaps only Noah.
Upon returning to the Border Guard, Encrid had found a few letters from Noah waiting for him. Most of it was trivial chatter, but the underlying meaning was clear.
He was saying he would do whatever it took if he could be of help. It wasn't about repaying a debt; it was his way of saying that if Encrid had helped him because they were friends, then he could do the same.
How dramatic.
If Encrid had actually been captured by the Empire, things would have become incredibly troublesome.
Beside him, Audin spoke.
"You haven't been slacking off, I see."
He had continued his training even while at House Zaun. To Encrid, it was only natural.
"Obviously."
"Then shall we?"
Soon, the two of them were lifting and lowering heavy boulders in the dawn rain. Then, placing an iron ball—which Encrid had asked Eitri to make—between his feet, he lay down and performed leg raises using only his abdominal muscles.
It was a training method that would leave any onlooker utterly aghast.
If he lost his grip on the iron ball, his face would be crushed. And if he were even unluckier, it could fall between his thighs, resulting in an even more horrific tragedy.
Naturally, no such mishap befell either of them. They simply focused on their training with nonchalance.
"I was looking forward to a war with the Empire. What a shame."
After a while, Pel emerged and spoke. Ropode, standing beside him, shook his head.
"I wasn't looking forward to it."
War breeds sorrow. Ropode knew this. It wasn't that Pel didn't know, but rather that he believed one must fight if necessary.
Encrid observed the two. They were vastly different, yet possessed a similar temperament. Both were the type to confront whatever needed to be done head-on, but their processes differed. Therefore, the way they achieved enlightenment would also differ.
The question he had harbored before surfaced once more.
Can a knight be raised through an established system?
To that end, these two had been beaten and rolled through the dirt countless times. Audin had told him of their progress yesterday.
"I put them through the wringer. They've both become quite interesting now."
Encrid felt he understood why Audin had said that.
Their Will is reacting.
Just by looking at them, both naturally adjusted their stances and braced themselves. It wasn't because they had a reason to fight. It was closer to a conditioned reflex.
A response learned through repeated experience.
It was the system he had created that had brought them to this point.
Can a system make a knight? What was the answer?
It is difficult with a half-baked system.
Simply beating their bodies might allow them to move their Will at an absurd speed for an associate knight, but it could not guide them to become true knights.
Making them use Will unconsciously.
That was the next goal for those two.
This, in other words, was not something he had anticipated or prepared for. He had simply seen them, and watching them brace themselves had stirred something within him.
He had seen House Zaun and stayed in a small village. Encrid had learned so much on his journey back to the Border Guard, and a significant portion of those lessons had come from teaching others.
His conversation with Valfir Balmung had also been of help.
A knight must attain enlightenment to ascend.
It did not end with simply becoming stronger.
Everything in harmony.
Muscle strength, reaction, senses—everything unites and moves as one. And what guides it is the Will.
Ropode and Pel were different. Thus, they required different methods.
If luck were to be called coincidence, then half of it was coincidence, and the other half was thanks to Encrid's peculiar way of growing.
Encrid intuitively conceived a way to elevate the two to the rank of knight.
The moment the thought struck him, his body moved. It was his usual decisiveness. Encrid set down the iron ball and gripped Samcheol.
"Pel."
He spoke and moved in the same breath. Before anyone knew it, Samcheol was drawn, rising vertically before plunging downward. In the brief interval between lifting his foot and swinging his arm, Encrid unleashed his Intimidation, crushing Pel under its weight.
To an onlooker, it was not an exceptionally fast strike.
He can't block it.
Ropode knew the instant he saw the strike. There was something extraordinary about his insight. Having glimpsed the future, he sensed death. However, that death was not his own, but Pel's.
Luagarne, who had slipped out to watch at some point, widened her eyes like never before. Red veins bulged across her eyeballs as she poured every ounce of the Frok race's innate power into her vision.
A downward slash that will split his body. Even if he dodges, he will lose an arm.
Intimidation and the sword strike. There was barely any wind-up, and no warning.
Pel, the target, placed his hand on the Idol Slayer. Even before Encrid had called his name, he had sensed the threat on an instinctive level.
Like a prey animal drinking water while keeping watch behind it, Pel had felt a strange surge of wariness the moment he saw Encrid. Then, he caught the exact moment Encrid's momentum shifted and reacted.
The Idol Slayer was drawn.
Shring—
Deflect it and live. Fail, and die.
He had to draw out his Will, but there was no time to even think. Because there was no room for thought, everything happened naturally.
For humans, survival is the primal urge. Moreover, Pel was a Shepherd of the Wilderness. They would do anything to survive. That was how Pel had been raised since childhood.
To survive, he summoned his Will before even forming an intention.
Hummm—
The Idol Slayer resonated with his Will, and his muscles, nerves, and senses united as one to strike back at Encrid's sword.
Whoosh.
There was no sound of clashing metal.
Samcheol had pulled back mid-descent, and the Idol Slayer had merely sliced through empty air.
Pel looked at Encrid, but his gaze did not register him; instead, he stared at something far beyond.
Thud.
The tip of the Idol Slayer, having swung uselessly through the air, drooped and touched the ground. Pel stood frozen, his arms hanging limp.
While everyone watched, wondering what on earth had just happened—
"Shh," Encrid said, placing his index finger over his lips.
Pel had entered his inner world.
His body and mind, having endured harsh training under Audin and the Order of Madness, were now just a single step away from becoming a knight. Encrid had helped him take that final step.
The Empire's method of raising knights.
It was likely similar to this.
An apprenticeship.
It came to him naturally. They would teach through transmission, taking the form of master and disciple. With that, they would be able to maintain their numbers of knights. According to what Balmung had told him, that was indeed the case.
*
Rem emerged late, rubbing his eyes, and then chuckled.
"Doing all sorts of tricks now, are we?"
Encrid had accomplished in an instant what none of the Order of Madness could do. The strike he had just executed was exactly that.
Exactly the speed required.
Threatening their life without killing them, leaving no room for any other thoughts. Easier said than done.
Encrid looked at Rem and silently mouthed: Later.
He said this, noticing that Rem's Will had stirred, causing his aura to leak out slightly.
Sachsen was also just stepping out of the quarters, and he felt that Encrid's senses were far sharper than before. Come to think of it, Encrid had detected his position the very moment they crossed paths.
Sachsen's eyes gleamed. Their game of hide-and-seek wouldn't be as easy as before. Sneaking up on him would be a truly daunting task now.
Except for Ragna, everyone moved to the edge of the training ground. Ragna was still asleep.
Only after leaving Pel far behind did Ropode speak.
"Why only Pel?"
If Pel attained enlightenment first, what was he supposed to do?
Encrid looked at Ropode. "Swing your sword for three days without rest. Without a single drop of water, as if you are blocking a strike right before you die, every single time."
If what Pel needed was intense stimulation, what Ropode needed was time to organize what he had accumulated.
At Encrid's words, Ropode fell into thought for a moment before replying, "I will be away for a while."
Since the training of the recruits had been left to the squire named Clement, Ropode had nothing pressing keeping him here. He vanished just like that. He would return changed before Pel woke up. That determination was clearly etched into his back.
"You've brought back something interesting," Rem said. Ragna had already seen how much Encrid's level had changed, but the others had not.
"I learned quite a few things."
"Well then?"
Rem seemed to be suggesting they clash right away, but Encrid gauged the sunlight breaking through the dark clouds.
"Later. I have an appointment."
"...You're refusing a spar?"
Rem was astonished, but Encrid merely replied calmly.
"Samcheol's hilt has loosened. If we're going to do this, we should do it properly."
"I shall wait, brother."
Audin was the one who answered.
"Teresa, um... she's already made it, right?"
Audin smiled and nodded at Encrid's question.
She was a step ahead of Ropode and Pel. However, the path she took to ascend was different from theirs. This had happened while Encrid was away. Out of consideration for her, Audin had taught her various things and pointed her toward a different path.
"You might even be able to join the Paladins," he had suggested, but Teresa had shaken her head.
"The place I want to live, my home, is here."
There was not a moment's hesitation.
What was the reason everyone called this place home? The man who was the reason for it nodded, then grabbed his oiled cloak.
"I'll be back shortly."
Eitri was waiting. It had already been three days since Encrid's return.
On the first day, it was already evening by the time he returned. The next day, he had told everyone about what had happened during his absence.
"The captain's stories are definitely the most entertaining," Rem had said while listening. They had already heard the gist from Ragna, but apparently, that fellow had a tendency to summarize things far too much.
Anne was there too, but she wasn't much of a talker either.
Encrid had a long history of paying to listen to stories. Unless one was completely devoid of eloquence, listening to that many well-told tales would naturally teach someone how to spin a decent yarn.
Sachsen agreed. "It's at a level that makes me want to ask for the next installment immediately."
His expression was calm, but his words said otherwise.
Eitri, upon receiving Samcheol, told him to wait four days.
"I'll tune it up and return it to you. And while I've secured the True Iron, you'll have to wait a bit longer."
Meaning the Imprinted Weapon wasn't ready yet. Though, Samcheol already felt half like an Imprinted Weapon anyway.
"Is that so?" Encrid replied and stood up. He didn't ask for details. That was Eitri's job, after all.
The Frok who made accessories acknowledged him with a glance, so Encrid gave a brief nod in return and left.
*
The rain had mostly stopped, and the sunlight was slowly peeking through.
When he returned to the unit, Rem was juggling three hand axes in the air. He threw them in sequence, catching them alternately with his left and right hands. To an ordinary person, it was acrobatics, but not to Rem.
"What are you doing?"
"Can't you tell by looking?"
Should he blame Rem's parents for the fact that nothing polite ever came out of his mouth?
Encrid looked at Rem and realized he hadn't completely shaken off last night's dream. Like fine dust settling in a room that hadn't been swept for days, a faint residue remained.
Hence, the words that slipped out: "Don't go dying on me, Rem."
Thud.
Rem snatched the spinning axes from the air. A light gleamed in his gray eyes—the effect of the power called sorcery filling his entire body.
"You want to go a round?"
Seeing how he interpreted everything in his own way, he was truly Rem. Here was a barbarian who took an expression of concern as a declaration of war.
"Wait," Encrid said, showing his palm.
He had something he was preparing in secret. He intended to refine it and show it to everyone. Until then, he would hold off on sparring.
"What am I, a dog?" Rem snapped, looking at Encrid's palm, but this was just their ordinary daily life.
And that night.
"Now, how is this?"
The Ferryman set up a new theatrical stage. The setup was similar, but with a different actor.
This time, the one dying in Encrid's arms was Sachsen.