Chapter 78: Colored by Passion
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 78: Colored by Passion
Torres remained exceptionally skilled.
Whenever Encrid sparred with him, he lost seven times out of ten.
"You've improved," Torres said, standing still as he caught his breath.
A sudden question crossed Encrid's mind: What would happen if they fought for real, with live blades?
He didn't know. Encrid was not the type to be overconfident. No matter how skilled one was with a sword, a human would still die if a seven-year-old child stabbed them in the heart with a dagger. Skill aside, the outcome of a life-or-death battle was always unpredictable.
"Is that so?" Encrid replied from where he lay on the ground, then sprang to his feet.
"I'm next."
"Come at me."
Even though it was the season where one's breath turned to mist, sweat flew and heat rose from the empty lot behind the inn. He wasn't sure how it had turned out this way, but everyone was lining up to fight Encrid. It was a non-stop chain of sparring.
For Encrid, this was invaluable time.
The Border Guard, including Torres, were highly skilled in unorthodox attacks, yet their fundamentals were by no means lacking.
One guard member snapped a tree branch in half, holding a piece in each hand. "My specialty is the dagger. Watch yourself so you don't get hurt."
The branches were each about half the length of a forearm.
"We should both be careful."
"Exactly. Let's both watch out."
The guard grinned. Heat simmered within his smile—a pure competitive spirit, completely devoid of malice.
Clack!
The branches clashed, and Encrid fought once more. After exchanging a few blows, Encrid naturally expected his opponent to close the distance. Instead, the guard crossed the two short branches, caught Encrid's sword, and twisted it aside with a sharp snap.
Having thrown Encrid off balance, he lunged and struck Encrid squarely in the torso with one of the branches.
"If this were real, that would've been your eye," he remarked.
This man was also exceptional, nearly on par with Torres. It was clear why the Border Guard received special treatment.
Encrid nodded silently. Another defeat.
It was time for a brief rest, and naturally, everyone took a break. Sachsen stood leaning against the doorway connecting the lot to the inn. As Encrid stepped toward him, Sachsen spoke.
"Just because your opponent is holding a dagger, you shouldn't focus solely on closing the distance. Are you going to fight using only fundamentals just because you've polished them? If your opponent crawls along the ground to approach you, is slamming your sword down onto their back the only answer? Why not just kick them?"
Win or lose, Sachsen always had something to say. It was a time for instruction. Some might have dismissed it as nagging, but not Encrid. He listened with an open mind.
"I didn't expect him to use a technique like that with daggers."
"His actual weapon is likely some kind of sword breaker."
A sword breaker—a weapon with a serrated, comb-like back designed to trap and snap blades.
"You did well not to yield your distance, but you should have kept what comes next in mind."
Sachsen dissected the spar piece by piece. Encrid had given his all every single time. If he had yielded his distance, he would have been defeated instantly. Because he had held his ground, he had been able to witness the sword-breaker technique firsthand.
What was done well was done well; Sachsen pointed that out too.
"Ponder how to counter it."
Mastering the fundamentals of swordsmanship, conditioning the body, learning techniques, and the training methods to engrave them into his muscles... all of it was good. But how to deal with the variables that arose during a spar was something he had to figure out on his own.
Those were Sachsen's words, and Encrid agreed. He had to repeat the same movement hundreds of times just to get his body to remember it. To truly make anything his own, he had to ponder and analyze.
Review and contemplation. Since those were the only weapons Encrid possessed, that was exactly what he did.
"Once you're done resting, it's my turn."
It was another guard member. This one was skilled at combining swordplay with footwork—not just taking steps, but constantly mixing in kicks. He was difficult to deal with, but there was just as much to learn from him.
All six members of the Border Guard, including Torres, took turns sparring with him. While all six used similar techniques, they each showcased their own unique tricks. They had distinct individual styles, yet their fundamentals were superb.
In the past, this kind of sparring wouldn't have been of much help. A person who has never climbed a mountain cannot truly comprehend the view from the summit. But things were different now.
Focus even more on a single point.
The technique he had learned from Ragna was beginning to shine. It went without saying that the boldness granted by the Beast's Heart served as its foundation.
"Keep the blade of your senses sharp at all times," Sachsen said. He was telling him to maintain a razor-sharp awareness.
Encrid nodded. Leona approached him as he stood there, dripping with sweat.
"You must really love it."
"Love what?"
"Swordsmanship."
"Does it look that way?"
"Yes."
Leona struck up conversations with him from time to time. They were trivial chats, but to Encrid, she looked like a spider observing its prey—a greedy spider that would never let its meal slip away.
Though comparing someone with her looks to a spider is a bit of a stretch.
After all, she was a beauty stunning enough to make anyone turn their head.
"Is it because of the Elf Company Commander? You seem rather insensitive to a woman's looks."
"That's not necessarily true."
"Then, does that mean I'm just not your type?"
What did she mean by that? A playful glint danced in her eyes.
"I doubt there are many men who could ignore someone of Lady Leona's beauty. Am I wrong?"
Though phrased indirectly, Encrid was making it clear he had no interest. After their trivial banter, Leona would smile softly and sit down next to the Company Commander.
"Watch out. He's a womanizer," the Company Commander would joke, spouting nonsense.
Leona laughed at his words. Did she actually understand the elf's humor? The jokes at Encrid's expense kept Leona giggling.
"You're the wittiest elf I've ever met."
"I hear that a lot."
From where, exactly? Encrid almost twisted his ankle while preparing for his next spar. Because he was keeping the blade of his senses sharp, their conversation naturally drifted into his ears.
"We even have a child together."
"Pardon?"
"I mean, there are people in the unit who actually believe that."
Wouldn't saying things like that only deepen the misunderstanding? Encrid felt a brief pang of worry, but Leona just laughed it off. It was hard to tell if she believed it or not.
"Aren't you going to fight? Are you tired already?"
Encrid brushed his worries aside as he looked at the men waiting for him. Rumors were going to spread wildly anyway. After Leona's sudden confession the other day, the gossip would probably only get worse.
"The Charming Squad Leader."
The guards called him that at every opportunity now.
"The Charming Squad Leader who broke the sorcery."
"The Charming Squad Leader who can't leave a woman alone."
He was getting sick of hearing it.
"The Charming Squad Leader, is it?" Even Sachsen brought up the term.
"Huh?"
"Every single guard member has their eyes glued to you, Squad Leader."
It was true. Somehow, it had turned out that way. They spent an entire day sparring like madmen. The awkward tension that had initially hung in the air was completely gone; they had all bonded through sweat and steel.
In return, Encrid's body was covered in bruises.
"Does it hurt?"
When the one who had struck him asked, Encrid shook his head. "No."
The blow from a moment ago had been spectacular. He was replaying it in his mind over and over. Countering a high downward slash by pretending to block from below, only to slice the forearm instead. Instantaneous judgment, an eye for timing, and sheer boldness. The necessary elements naturally came together. It was the physical embodiment of an experience he had never felt before.
Ah.
Encrid was swept up in ecstasy once more. He was intoxicated by the present moment.
Sometimes, the Company Commander would step in to do something akin to wrestling, and Leona would occasionally chime in.
"I'm jealous. Maybe I should have learned that too," she said as she watched the Company Commander grab Encrid's arm in mid-air, hanging off it to put pressure on the joint.
For Encrid, it was a technique he had been too busy falling and struggling to resist.
"Incorporate wrestling, soldier," the Company Commander advised.
Whether it was because he saw Encrid listening to Sachsen or out of pure goodwill, Encrid still didn't know the reason. But there was no need to question it, so he maintained his posture of attentive listening.
"Your left-right balance is completely off. Does anyone supervise your physical training?"
It wasn't just the Company Commander. The Border Guards said the same thing Audin had once told him: the imbalance between his left and right sides. It was only natural since he was right-handed, but...
"The first step to reaching the limits of human potential is training every muscle in your body. Your strength is decent, though," Torres offered.
"Just because it's a dagger, you only thought about closing the distance, didn't you? Instead, act as if you're drawing them into an even tighter close-quarters brawl. What do you think your opponent will think then? Plant an evil spirit in their head."
A way to clutter the opponent's mind.
"You have a bad habit. Feints and tricks are fine, but you mustn't lose your basics. Where are you going to place your center of gravity?"
They pointed out every mistake. Encrid was utterly absorbed, engraving every word into his mind. This was entirely different from sparring with his own squad members.
"Would you like to spar with me as well?"
Polid's swordsman stepped forward. He unbuckled his rapier, sheath and all, set it aside, and spoke. Encrid nodded reflexively. It was something he had desperately hoped for.
"You're an interesting fellow. Sparring like this in the middle of a mission."
"I prefer to make valuable use of my time."
Even during an escort mission where blood had been shed over the succession of a major merchant guild, Encrid still held his sword and swung it. He had to. Because other people's time and Encrid's time flowed differently. The talented and the untalented could never be equal. Therefore, for someone who had to make up for what they lacked, time was always in short supply.
*
The rapier swordsman found his interest piqued.
His skills aren't improving in real-time, but...
Encrid was a soldier with a strange charm that drew people in. In particular, the shift in the relationship between the Border Guards and this man was fascinating. The wariness that usually existed between strangers had melted away; in its place, goodwill had blossomed. It was a truly wondrous sight.
A rare talent.
However, it wasn't a talent for swordsmanship. His current skill level was his limit; the master of the rapier could see that clearly. The soldier named Encrid possessed talent in a different area. It was a thought born from meeting countless geniuses throughout his life. If he were to hear that Encrid's dream was to become a knight, he would have shaken his head immediately.
And yet, regardless of his talent...
I find myself wanting to teach him.
It was a boundless passion. Encrid didn't let a single word go to waste. His talent was abysmal, but he possessed a heavy, distinct heat that set him apart—a knack for inspiring those around him through sheer passion alone.
The instructors who had taught Encrid in the past had felt the same way. Even though they knew it was impossible, they ultimately tried to pour everything they had into him. It was a drive that acted as if the word "surrender" didn't even exist.
"Would you like to spar with me as well?"
That was what made the swordsman take a step forward.
"Huh?" His companion looked at him in surprise. Even the swordsman was astonished by his own actions. They were practically enemies. Stepping forward like this might make him look ridiculous, and if the other party refused, he would look even more foolish.
The problem was, he hadn't thought of any of that until the words had already left his mouth.
Encrid nodded.
"Now?"
His arms were bruised, and his entire body was drenched in sweat. He radiated a heat intense enough to banish the cold wind. Steam rose from his shoulders. He had to be exhausted. Yet, winning or losing didn't matter to him. Right now, this man was purely enjoying the spar.
"Good," the swordsman said, almost to himself.
*
Sachsen suspected the opponent's intentions. The Company Commander watched with interest. And every single member of the Border Guard prepared to cut the man down if things went south. They had no intention of letting anything happen to Encrid.
As for Encrid...
Swift Sword.
He was busy visualizing his opponent's blade. How should he react? What style of fighting would give him the highest chance of winning? Could he win?
"Don't overthink it!"
Rem had said he had never seen a bastard survive a fight when they were busy worrying about winning or losing. Rather than doubting the outcome...
"Have conviction. That comes first."
Hone the blade of conviction. The Beast's Heart embraced boldness.
Encrid raised the tip of his branch, pointing it toward the sky. He focused, gripping it as if holding a sword with both hands. In an instant, his surroundings shifted. His burning concentration transformed the empty lot into the middle of a battlefield.
He saw the armor clad on his opponent's body. He saw the thin sword held in his hand.
If I cannot dodge, I will die.
Encrid immersed himself completely in the thought.