Chapter 786: Reason and Emotion
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 786: Reason and Emotion
From the depths of his sprawling thoughts, Encrid drew upon his greatest strength: an overwhelming surge of Will.
Uske.
It was a name signifying a Will drawn from an inexhaustible well.
That, too, was a weapon—one that not just anyone could possess. Even Ragna, a heaven-sent genius who had stepped into a truly special realm, did not have this.
That’s why I had the advantage.
He had felt it while sparring with Rem and the others, but now, he had defined it with absolute clarity.
Furthermore, after his past struggle against Count Molsen and his clash with the half-knight Liebart, Encrid had adopted a tactic from his opponents: prioritizing endurance. He fought by thrusting his inexhaustible Will to the very forefront of every engagement.
"Why aren't you using what you have?"
Luagarne, his tactics instructor, had hammered those words into him countless times.
"Everything at your disposal is a weapon. Hone it. Even your face can be a weapon if used correctly. Expand your perspective. Do not trap yourself in a narrow well."
She was no knight, but a Frok dedicated to the art of tactics. Her words carried weight, and Encrid took them to heart.
Everything is a weapon.
So, he had done exactly that. Whether sparring with allies or facing down enemies, he pushed his inexhaustible Will to the limit.
But the Balrog cannot be suppressed through a battle of endurance alone.
The Balrog had lived for an eternity. It was only natural that the beast’s own Will was immense.
Quantity won't be enough.
In that case, what about winning through variation?
He had learned the technique of accelerating Will from the Zaun family. Though it was a method that ravaged the body, a sturdier physique naturally possessed the strength to withstand the recoil.
Endure.
This was the general term for techniques used to tolerate extreme pain. If the origin of the Assimilation technique lay with the elves, the origin of Endure lay with the monks.
Audin had taught him that the foundation of Endure was the tempering of the physical body. What if he withstood the strain using his trained body and Endure, then unleashed a Point Explosion?
I’ll settle this with a variation of Will.
It wouldn't be through calculation, but through an instantaneous burst. What if he also exploited the Balrog’s arrogance?
I’ll bet everything on the first strike.
To achieve that, what was the first step?
First, I must neutralize its intimidation.
The Balrog gauged an opponent’s strength through the weight of its presence. Therefore, he had to shake off that intimidation in a single breath. That was the prerequisite for an instantaneous showdown.
"Who the hell are you?"
It was his fifty-sixth 'today.' Having already passed Donapa, this was his third opponent. A swordsman specializing in agile movements and the single-edged sword tilted her head, questioning him.
When he met her gaze, the woman instantly recoiled, widening the distance like a herbivore spotting a predator.
Shring!
She drew her blade as she retreated, her eyes wide with blatant wariness.
Look at those eyes.
Her pupils were trembling.
Encrid’s blue eyes were like a still lake—if a volcano had erupted right beside it, turning the waters into a boiling cauldron. If Rem or the others had seen him, they would have said, "His eyes have gone crazy again."
Once Encrid decided on a method, he executed it with stubborn resolve. It was one of his most defining traits. To him, this swordsman was merely an obstacle to pass.
"I'm a bit busy."
With those words, he lunged.
"...Hup!"
The swordsman held her breath and pivoted back to the offensive. She knew she had no chance of winning if she stayed on the retreat. She understood her own strengths; she couldn't afford to be defensive. She had to fight while maintaining the initiative.
Skrrr-tring!
She charged, dragging the tip of her single-edged sword along the ground. The floor was a jagged mix of stone and dirt. Sparks erupted from her blade as it scraped against the rock. It looked as though she were trailing a comet’s tail of fire behind her. The moment of impact was imminent.
The swordsman focused everything on the clash.
It seemed they would collide head-on, but they didn't. She was momentarily taken aback.
He stopped?
Encrid slammed on the brakes mid-dash. The halt was so violent it nearly left an afterimage of his body still lunging forward. A nosebleed dripped from Encrid’s nose, splattering onto the ground. To him, such a trivial injury wasn't even worth noticing.
The swordsman, however, couldn't stop. She had poured everything into her strike—from the Will she moved consciously to the Will operating in her subconscious. If she tried to stop now, she wouldn't get off with just a simple nosebleed.
Skrrt!
Utilizing the friction of the ground, her sword accelerated. Swinging the blade as if using the earth itself as a sheath, she sliced through the air. Her strike flew forward, breaking the sound barrier.
At that exact moment, Encrid—who had just come to a dead stop—ducked and stepped forward. He moved at a speed no different from his initial charge, swinging his sword in a fluid motion. It was a perfect picture of two warriors unleashing their blades simultaneously.
How?
Clang!
As their steel collided, the swordsman saw an azure snake slither up her arm and sink its fangs into her neck. The snake sliced through her collarbone, pierced her heart, and vanished.
Black soot lingered in her vision. She was on the verge of death. The last thing she saw was Encrid swinging his sword into the empty air a few more times, testing the weight.
Seeing that gave her a sudden, final surge of strength. Vomiting black mist, she spoke with her remaining breath.
"Kuh... were you... using me for practice?"
Black mist surged from the wound carved by the azure snake, pooling on the ground.
Since it was a question he heard so often, Encrid didn't even bother to nod. He ignored her. It was a phrase he had heard at least thirty times across his fifty-plus 'todays.'
The swordsman was sensitive to being ignored—a flaw in her personality. He had seen this woman over fifty times now; as time passed, the weaknesses of his enemies became increasingly clear. Ignoring her, Encrid reflected on the brief clash.
Control of Will.
Encrid had focused on control rather than the raw power of Point or Line Explosions. After stopping abruptly, he had immediately transitioned into a Point Explosion.
In an instant, the speed of his Will shifted. Just as a horse needs a head start to build speed, Encrid had swung his sword at maximum velocity directly from a dead stop.
His arm trembled violently.
No matter how well-trained his body was, such a maneuver put an immense strain on his frame. One couldn't cut down a thousand men without catching their breath or feeling the stiffness in their limbs. Just because one became a knight by reinforcing themselves with Will didn't mean they transcended the boundaries of humanity. That held true for giants and elves alike.
In any case.
I’ve learned something, Odd-Eye.
He had attempted this because he recalled how Odd-Eye had freely stopped and accelerated back at the Border Guard. Back then, he had been so deeply impressed that he had called him 'Indomitable' instead of Odd-Eye. Though, despite giving him such a grand name, he had reverted to calling him Odd-Eye out of habit.
Odd-Eye had only snorted at the name 'Indomitable,' his attitude suggesting he found the title ridiculous.
Anyway.
I can start by catching them off guard and acting outside their expectations.
That was his conclusion.
The subsequent sword strike was an imitation of the fire snake, Salamandra, mixed with various movements he had observed. A real blade couldn't actually become a whip; it was simply that the trajectory of the sword shifted so rapidly that it created an illusion in the opponent's eyes.
In other words, Encrid had accelerated twice. Once when moving his body, and once again when swinging his sword.
Two Point Explosions.
More precisely, it was embedding a Point Explosion within an Explosion of Lines.
No wonder his forearm felt stiff. It was only because of his repeated training with Audin that he could manage this at all. Otherwise, his muscles would have ruptured.
Just as his thoughts were ceaseless, his feet did not stop. Encrid pressed forward. Though the darkness threatened to swallow him, the gloom of the cave had become a familiar path.
There was no fear. No dread. Having decided on his task, he was filled only with the desire to train and test his limits.
"...Oh, you're here? But what's with that look in your eyes? Why are you so worked up?"
Oara noticed him and asked. Encrid approached her as she sat by the campfire.
"Do I look that way?"
"Yeah, anyone could tell."
"I've been well, and Roman..."
Encrid spoke his lines reflexively. Oara would only summon the Balrog after hearing this story; otherwise, the conversation would drag on. Encrid spoke slightly faster than he did on any other 'today.'
"Did you always talk like this? You sound incredibly formal, like you're just checking off boxes."
Even in death, Oara was a knight of sharp intuition.
"Ah, is that so?" Encrid nodded.
"Well, um, alright. Be careful."
From her shadow, massive wings unfurled. Encrid smiled without realizing it as he watched the transformation. Perhaps that subtle smile provoked the beast.
—Are you so eager to die by a demon’s hand?
It was a question born of confusion—why was there a madman standing here, smiling, when he should have been crushed by the Balrog's presence?
The Balrog had seen many peculiar beings. From those who laughed in the face of death to the human who had defeated it despite being born in a mortal body. That defeat had happened quite recently in the grand scale of time.
Yet, among all those beings, the first impression of the man standing before it was the most striking.
Smiling the moment he saw it?
And then, the man spoke.
"Bring it on."
Encrid provoked it out of habit and adjusted his grip on his sword.
The start is shaking off the intimidation.
It had taken Encrid only three 'todays' to decide how he would fight the Balrog. The expansion of his thoughts now came naturally. Having lived through over fifty 'todays' since then, he had plenty of experience.
Instead of speaking, the Balrog unleashed its intimidation. It was a declaration that it wouldn't even acknowledge someone who couldn't overcome this much pressure.
To Encrid, that was actually quite amusing. And the thought of blocking that intimidation made it even better.
Before the Balrog could even fully release its pressure, Encrid manifested his Will of Rejection.
Can effort alone catch up to genius?
The time spent seeking the answer to that question had accumulated, and everything built up over those loops had become a sturdy fortress wall within him. A high, solid wall; Encrid had made it his vow to protect what lay behind him. That was the oath he had sought to keep ever since he became a knight.
An illusion flickered into existence: a fortress wall of azure bricks rising to meet the burning chains.
Thud.
The chains struck, sparks flying, before slumping uselessly to the ground. Should he call it a wall of rejection? Or perhaps armor forged from accumulated time? Or maybe he simply refused to crumble because he had never been broken?
—You keep smiling.
The Balrog showed no sign of panic even though its intimidation had been neutralized. At its words, Encrid realized he was indeed smiling.
At this point, he really was crazy. Rationally speaking, there was absolutely nothing to be happy about.
But.
Am I a rational person?
According to Krais, he was smart, but...
Who cares.
There was no time to ponder such things. He merged his thoughts, which had been split and preparing a wave barrier from the moment he faced the Balrog. He would bet everything on a single strike.
Focusing on a single point.
It was a single-point focus. He needed only one thought.
In a way, it looked like a gamble. It might seem that he could only do this because he was repeating 'today,' but that wasn't the case. Encrid had never let a single day slip by easily. He always acted as if today were his last.
Even if I die.
He would accomplish what he set out to do now, and then he would die. He would die walking the path he had chosen.
Therefore, it didn't matter if today never returned. He paid no mind to 'today'—which the Ferryman called a curse, but which had become a blessing to him. His resolve was sky-high. The willpower he gripped now was fully infused into his sword.
Chiriririring.
The blade of Dawn Forge slid out, scraping against the rim of the scabbard.
The strange thing was that the corners of the Balrog’s mouth curled up as well. It would be easy if it fought by crushing its opponent with its aura. The beast possessed the means to win effortlessly.
But it didn't.
Instead of its innate intimidation, it used its limbs. It was an emotional action, not a rational decision. In other words, the Balrog was no different from Encrid right now.
Both closed the distance with twisted smiles. Encrid moved, dragging the soles of his boots against the ground, while the Balrog strode forward. Its wings were spread wide—a stroke of luck for Encrid. Wings hindered sudden movements; the moment the membranes resisted the wind, invisible shackles would bind its ankles.
—Ah, this is why I can't stop fighting.
The Balrog projected a telepathic wave, unable to contain its delight.
Encrid couldn't agree more.