Chapter 788: Three Teachers
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 788: Three Teachers
"You find this fun, don't you?"
"Is this enjoyable? Right now?"
"He's a fellow who lives as if there’s no tomorrow."
Encrid had encountered a wide variety of swordsmanship teachers, and most of them used to say the same thing.
But what could he do? The present was simply too enjoyable. It was fun.
"...Why are you smiling?" asked the man he had recently taken as his swordsmanship teacher.
He had lost his two flame-producing swords and now held a pair of identical-looking blades. These new weapons harbored a frost so deep it froze flesh upon the slightest graze. As he spun the swords in his palms, a thick, rolling chill wafted from them.
They’d be great for summer.
That was the kind of weapon they were.
The spinning blades pushed away the heat, chilling the surrounding air.
Are they absorbing the surrounding heat rather than emitting cold?
To use an artifact or a spell object, one had to understand its operation. If the structure or working principle was unclear, one had to learn through trial and error.
His opponent had done exactly that.
"If used clumsily, spell objects are double-edged swords that will cut you instead."
It was a phrase Sachsen often repeated. Teacher Rino, however, wielded that double-edged sword masterfully. He possessed an outstanding talent for cutting his opponent while remaining unscathed.
What is there to learn from this teacher?
A dull trainee fails to learn what the teacher instructs. A slightly better one manages to learn exactly one thing when taught one. On the other hand, a clever trainee grasps five or ten things from a single lesson.
And when it came to the role of a student, there was no one on the continent like Encrid. Across all races, he was the most exceptional. He would even steal the things his opponent had no intention of teaching.
Is his specialty deception?
It seemed so on the surface, but there was nothing to learn from his attempts at psychological warfare. He was clumsy in that regard. Instead, a few fragmented movements stood out.
Why is he special?
Rino spread his arms wide like a massive bird. Cold air stirred along the frost-laden swords in his hands. The sight resembled a Balrog striking with its wings—after all, the Balrog often used its wings as weapons.
On top of that, those blades froze flesh with the slightest graze.
It’s as if the Balrog is combining its wings with Urt.
It was a natural association. Urt, which conjured black flames, was a weapon that must not be grazed under any circumstances. Teacher Rino’s current movements perfectly capitalized on the characteristics of his weapons.
The reason they looked like two wings was simply because his movements were so large. Those movements, which seemed somewhat unnecessary, lowered the surrounding temperature. No, it didn't stop at lowering it; it froze the very air. Before he knew it, Encrid felt a thin layer of ice forming on his forearms.
Though it was only a faint chill for now, if that clumsy-looking dance continued, it would eventually hinder his movements. He realized this through intuition, without needing to think.
There was more to learn here. As expected, psychological warfare was not Teacher Rino’s specialty.
"Go on, keep smiling," Rino said.
Encrid maintained his grin. How could he not?
They said a clever trainee grasps ten things, but a madman like Encrid thoroughly enjoyed the process. This was just as delightful as fighting and moving forward. What’s more, he now possessed an observational skill he had never had before.
The perfect utilization of a weapon.
He knew how to alter the surrounding air to his advantage using the weapons he held, going beyond simple cutting and freezing.
It was the same with the two blinding swords.
His original pair of swords featured blades that emitted heat and sparked flames when swung quickly. He had clashed them together with just the right amount of force to trigger a blinding flash. That method of blocking an opponent’s vision was Teacher Rino’s proprietary technique.
Admirable, truly admirable.
That was what he thought inwardly. But that didn't mean he would quietly let himself be beaten.
Encrid moved before the chill could penetrate his bones. Kicking off the ground, he swung his blade, drawing an azure half-moon in the air. It was a simple, clear movement, but the teacher evaded it. He kicked the ground sideways, pushing his body. Afterimages lingered in his wake. Though Encrid had seen it multiple times, it was an excellent step.
It was a high-speed lateral movement achieved by momentarily crossing his legs to boost his speed.
Encrid had already seen it several times and had even practiced it on the Ferryman’s boat. The mad trainee moved, tracing his teacher’s shadow. The blade that was drawing a half-moon snapped mid-trajectory and swept horizontally.
"...!"
Startled, the teacher widened his eyes and raised his two frost-laden swords side-by-side to block.
That was a mistake.
Crash!
Dawn Forge was a sword capable of delivering strikes heavier than most greatswords. The azure blade shattered the two frost blades and left a long gash across their owner’s chest. Black mist bubbled and seeped from the wound.
"You!"
Unable to withstand the force, the teacher rolled backward before coming to a halt. He placed both hands and knees on the ground, lifting only his head to speak.
Rino knew the wound was fatal. But that was only true for a body with circulating blood. Since his body was different now, he could still speak and move. Still, that didn't mean he could suddenly surpass the opponent before him. He had no intention of attacking.
However, his stomach churned with resentment. The step shown just now was one he had developed himself. And he copied it? After seeing it just once? No, he had copied the footwork without even seeing the full sequence.
"You stole my technique?"
Anyone could see he had copied it. Rino’s pupils shook violently.
After seeing it once? No, he didn't even see it properly, yet he copied what was done right before his eyes?
It wasn't just a simple step; it was a method of utilizing Will. Could someone really pull this off after seeing it once? What’s more, he had copied it before even seeing the entire movement. No matter how much he accelerated his thoughts, it made no sense.
There was no such genius in the world. It was a succession of impossible feats. Though from Encrid’s perspective, it was only natural.
In a span of time unknown to Rino, Encrid had watched, rehearsed, and jumped on the ferryboat countless times while enduring the Ferryman’s scoldings.
"Do you want to fall into the river again? Training in a place like this... I’ve truly never seen a fellow like you."
He had let those words go in one ear and out the other, practicing hundreds of times.
"Unfair, as always," the teacher muttered, even as the light in his eyes faded.
Encrid nodded. He agreed.
"...Loathsome fellow."
Rino defined Encrid with that archaic word and committed suicide. A short dagger, drawn at some point, was now held in his hand. Supporting himself only on his knees, he raised the dagger and plunged it into his own neck.
The teacher, turning into black mist, departed.
In other words, today’s first lesson was over.
His specialty wasn't deception, but utilization.
Words he had learned in the past flashed through his mind once more.
"Your skill depends on how you handle your weapon."
Hadn't someone said that to a mercenary, a weapon is another life? It was something the mercenary captain he had served under once told him.
The proper way to handle a weapon.
Ziiing.
As his thoughts flowed, Dawn Forge hummed.
Flutter.
The Elven Cloak caught the wind of its own accord. The cloak fluttered even though the air inside the cave remained completely still.
Have I been using my weapons properly until now?
Besides this, he had several Horn Trumpet Daggers, Penna, and his cloth-wrapped gauntlets. He also wore armor made of Elven Leaf as undergarments, into which Esther had breathed her breath.
Organizing his thoughts, Encrid walked toward his second lesson.
"My name is Donapa!"
He was a teacher who easily grew excited and enjoyed deciding matches in a single blow. This fight would not drag on. Donapa had no armaments other than his thick axe, the armor clad on his body, and his ghost horse.
An extreme disposition.
He kept nothing in mind except for a single axe strike. Because of this, Donapa delivered an axe strike that surpassed his actual skill level. It was similar to the swordsmanship Roman had shown during his days as an associate knight. Back then, Roman had swung his sword like a true knight, though only once, at the level of an associate knight.
The reason Roman came to mind was that the opponent before him shared a similar path. If Teacher Rino had taught him how to utilize weapons, what he had to learn from his second teacher, Donapa, was far clearer.
Simple thinking.
Weaponizing simplicity instead of complexity.
That simplicity was so radical it surpassed a single-point focus. It was like running with eyes fixed only on the front, like a horse wearing blinkers. Blinkers were tools that blocked a horse’s peripheral vision to force it to look only ahead, eliminating all unnecessary distractions and allowing it to reach its destination efficiently.
Donapa’s five senses must be dull as well.
He was the complete opposite of Sachsen. Thus, when he swung his axe, he would often throw even his own head into the strike. Complex and multi-faceted thinking helped with calculations, but they became impurities during the process of concentration.
Donapa rejected all of those impurities. Though Encrid did not fully understand the principles of this Labyrinth, he now knew they had been knights in life. The Dullahan named Donapa must have maintained that attitude toward life even when he lived with red blood in his veins. It was as if his entire life had been tailored to the swing of an axe.
However, there was no need to absorb all of that.
That would be a step backward.
Encrid not only stole and learned from his teachers, but he went a step further, digesting their techniques in his own way. Because he was always craving knowledge, his learning attitude, posture, and cognitive abilities had vastly improved. It was at a level that could easily be called evolution.
Simplifying one's thoughts only when necessary.
Ragna’s usual sluggish attitude came to mind. Though his verbal explanations were terrible, he was a good teacher. There was much to learn just from his everyday demeanor.
That sluggish attitude is a process of clearing the mind, and the change when gripping the sword is shifting thoughts to guide Will.
He just needed to acquire simplicity through a shift in thoughts. It was enough to unleash his concentration only when needed.
A single-point focus is enough.
To be precise, it was about immersing himself deeper into that single-point focus. How? By cutting away all the branches of his thought process and discarding the impurities. This was what he had learned from Donapa’s strike born of simple thinking.
The blue extracted from indigo is bluer than the indigo itself.
It was the same principle as a spark starting from a small campfire spreading to form a massive blaze.
"Huh?"
Donapa’s strike sliced through empty air. It was immediately after Encrid had focused entirely on blocking and evading with a simplified mind.
Encrid’s sword swept through Donapa’s waist. On the surface, it looked as though the Dullahan on his ghost horse had thrown his head back and charged, while his opponent, the swordsman Encrid, had simply sprinted forward on both feet, the two crossing paths.
In that brief instant, Donapa’s axe cleaved empty air, while Encrid’s Dawn Forge severed the ghost knight’s waist.
Slash.
Dawn Forge became as sharp as Penna if necessary. It was a horizontal slash utilizing that quality.
"I have lost."
Donapa’s upper body slid and fell to the ground with a thud. His voice echoed from a spot far removed from his fallen torso. As always, the words came from his head. He fought head-on and conceded easily. It was a transition of attitude as swift as his simple thinking.
Encrid advanced toward his third teacher. All of this was, of course, thanks to the time he had spent training. It was also the result of his efforts wielding his sword on the Ferryman’s boat.
"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" the Ferryman, watching his swordplay, had asked. Of course, it wasn't serious, but rather a sarcastic remark.
The owner of the single-edged sword narrowed her eyes the moment she saw Encrid. Anyone could see he was no ordinary opponent. The intimidation faintly radiating from his entire body took shape, resembling a massive fortress wall.
"You have come after surpassing Donapa."
The specialty of the single-edged sword was the explosive power generated while maintaining an offensive. Delving into that explosive power revealed her true specialty: an incredibly long breath. That long breath was indeed her greatest asset.
However, that specialty only shone when she was pressing the attack. Once she was forced onto the defensive, her momentum broke, and her breathing faltered, causing a stark difference in the movement of her hands and feet between offense and defense.
A fatal weakness.
She could attack with sheer enthusiasm, but when it came to blocking, her heart simply wasn't in it. Even as she spoke, her nose showed a unique breathing pattern. She inhaled air thinly and deeply.
Watching, learning, and mastering this was also incredibly fun. In his spare moments—namely, on the Ferryman’s boat—he had repeatedly regulated his breathing as if conducting mindscape training. It wasn't out of impatience, but simply because learning and mastering their techniques was so thoroughly enjoyable.
"Why are you practicing your breathing here?" the Ferryman had scolded him repeatedly.
If he let the owner of the single-edged sword take the initiative, she would relentlessly press her attack. Watching that, he stole and learned her breathing method. Then, when the moment came where her breath faltered, he would transition from defense to offense and strike.
He didn't just slash blindly; he did so while practicing her very method.
"You... how did you...?"
Excluding Donapa, these two were quite quick-witted. They were astonished every time they recognized what Encrid had done.
"Skillfully."
As he gave a half-hearted reply, the eyes of the single-edged sword’s owner grew dim. While ordinary people easily encountered those superior to themselves, so-called geniuses rarely had the chance to meet someone who surpassed their own talent. Facing such a moment shook them even more.
Furthermore, her mind was likely far from whole right now. How could a life spent wandering the Labyrinth, bound by the Balrog, be considered whole?
Encrid cut down the owner of the single-edged sword, moved forward to meet Oara, and after conversing with her, faced the Balrog.
It was his one hundred and fifty-fourth "today."
Throughout all this time, he had never shattered the crystal exposed on the Balrog’s chest. He could cut one, but since he couldn't cut all three, charging in was futile. Moreover, to cut even a single crystal, he had to disregard his own life. Since such a fight was no different from suicide, it was not a path Encrid would choose.
Still, he struggled and fought. Yet, the Balrog stood firm like an insurmountable wall, no matter what he tried.
And before he welcomed his one hundred and fifty-fifth "today," the Ferryman, unable to bear it any longer, told him how to escape this day.
"Listen to me."
His tone was as if to say, Fine, I yield.