Chapter 789: Kneel and Beg
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 789: Kneel and Beg
"Kneel and beg. The Balrog will spare you."
So beg, and beg again.
Plead for your life.
That is how you survive this day and escape. Turn your back. Fighting head-on is not the only way. Face him again only after you have grown stronger.
Is this not also a worthy tactic?
The Ferryman’s visage flickered, shifting through half a dozen different faces as he spoke.
Dark green light flashed within his black pupils, and a faded golden hue briefly peeked from beneath his hood. Yet, his expression remained frozen. He merely recited his words in a dry, flat drone.
It felt like listening to a book written in a rigid, academic tone—a text that listed only cold facts rather than aiming to entertain. Encrid thought the Ferryman's words made a certain kind of sense.
"Will you let yourself be devoured by 'today' like this? It is a pathetic sight—seeing you mauled by a dog that slaughtered its own kin before fleeing."
There were words in the middle Encrid couldn't quite grasp.
Killed its brothers? Fled?
Given the context, it sounded like a criticism directed at the Balrog.
But then, why tell him to beg to the very opponent he was disparaging?
Although the words were contradictory, it wasn't all that strange considering the Ferryman's ultimate goal.
'Escape today.'
More precisely: do not linger in "today" as it is now.
That was what the Ferryman desired.
Encrid’s curiosity was capricious. Much like how inspiration suddenly strikes a brilliant artist, his mind worked in flashes. Usually, he would let words slide by, but occasionally, he would take a sudden interest in a specific phrase and probe further.
"A dog that killed all its brothers and fled? What is that about?"
His interest only manifested when it was relevant to combat, training, learning, or his own goals. Even the Ferryman could not fully grasp the thought process behind it.
The Ferryman could not peer into every nook and cranny of Encrid's mind.
In truth, even Encrid did not fully understand his own mind. Such is the nature of humanity.
Regardless, Encrid asked, and the Ferryman answered. His tone remained stiff.
"It is of no importance."
The Ferryman's lamp swayed slightly. With that small movement, a purple light gradually spread, casting a shadow that lengthened and shrank before him.
The ferryboat expanded, doubling its usual size. This was not a new sight.
Recently, when Encrid had entered training even within his dreams to reflect on what he had learned from the three teachers—whom even Krona would not acknowledge—the Ferryman had enlarged the boat to accommodate him.
Still, a single conclusion remained fixed in Encrid's mind. The Ferryman hated stopping in this "today" where he faced the Balrog. His actions were more eloquent than his speech; his meaning and intent were clear.
Come to think of it, he had spent several years with this Ferryman.
Moreover, the Ferryman was the sole sharer of his greatest secret, the only one he could trust with the truth.
Encrid's mind began to process. There was no need to manually stretch time. To be precise, this place was his mindscape—his inner world.
Thoughts within this realm were like flashes of lightning. Thinking occurred in a mere instant. Encrid simply watched as the tree of thought absorbed water and branched out.
If left alone, it would reach a conclusion on its own. This was a fact he knew from experience.
'The Ferryman is helping with my training.'
He was pushing Encrid to overcome the wall.
'Why?'
As soon as the question arose, the answer followed naturally. No, he already knew the answer. It was a fact he was repeating to himself for the third time.
The Ferryman hated the "today" spent with the Balrog. The reason? Because this could never be considered a pleasant today.
In other words, it was not the "today" the Ferryman desired.
The today he wished for was a peaceful and tranquil day. It didn't matter if combat was involved, but it had to be a today that at least excluded this kind of desperation.
"In the end, you will not be able to overcome it. If you are bound here for a hundred or two hundred years, this will be the end. This will become your final today."
The Ferryman spoke repeatedly, as if trying to interrupt and disrupt his train of thought. Encrid listened quietly. To an outside observer, ignoring their tone and appearance, it would look as though one side was pleading while the other was taking it easy.
"Mad beastman, if you wish to dwell in immortality, now is not the time."
After all, isn't it natural for the desperate side to have more to say?
Having heard all of this, Encrid raised his left hand, scratched the back of his neck, and replied nonchalantly.
"Hmm. I refuse."
It was an answer without a shred of hesitation. His attitude and the speed of his reply proved it.
"Then you will remain in this today?" the Ferryman asked back.
"Ah, no. That's not it either." Encrid shook his head.
"You think you can overcome this on your own?"
The words the Ferryman conveyed through his Will overlapped dozens of times, vibrating through Encrid's entire body. At those words, the river surged, and the ferryboat rocked violently.
Though it was a mindscape, to Encrid, this was a place where he could move his body just as he did in reality.
Balancing himself on the swaying boat, the corners of Encrid's mouth curled up gently. A smile full of conviction played on his face.
"No."
That answer was the last. The surging river enveloped the Ferryman. His entire body dissolved into dark blue particles, scattering like beads. Before he knew it, Encrid floated upward, sucked into the flickering light above.
"You will have to prove your words."
The Ferryman's voice lingered in his ears like an echo shouted from a great distance.
A moment ago, Encrid had answered "no." That answer carried a double meaning.
One was his determination not to remain trapped in today, and the other was—
'Why does he think I am alone?'
That he was not alone.
It was a thought like that.
Stray thoughts and naturally arising branches of ideas sprouted wildly, meeting and spinning around like a snake biting its own tail.
Encrid skillfully gathered those thoughts into one, driving them toward a single conclusion.
Telling him to kneel and beg to the Balrog was ultimately telling him to survive, even if it meant breaking his Will and discarding the way of life he had maintained until now.
In that, the Ferryman remained consistent. Whether it was the proposal he made in a previous today or the one he made now, there was no difference. No matter what kind of today he faced, the Ferryman only proposed a path of meaningless survival.
'Is that supposed to be fun?'
Leading such a today held absolutely no meaning for Encrid.
It was devoid of joy, and it was an insult to the dream he had nurtured since childhood—the dream of becoming a knight, which he had already partially achieved.
Life and death are always a double-edged blade. Since he was the one walking upon the edge, he had to be the one to decide his attitude toward life.
Moreover, to beg? That was far too passive. It was leaving the choice to the Balrog.
Even if he survived that way, his heart would eventually break. After crawling on his belly and begging just to live, nothing would remain inside him.
Once the tower of Will he had built collapsed, what would be left?
To an observer, Encrid might look like someone who lived only for today, but that was not the case.
He was someone who always moved forward toward tomorrow.
Whatever the Ferryman's proposal was, Encrid had his own way.
"If you stay like this, you will be trapped in today," the Ferryman had said.
He understood what those words meant, but...
If it was simply about escaping today, he had found the way long ago.
Unable to overcome it alone? He admitted that too.
Having crossed the wall multiple times, Encrid's thinking had become freer, and his concepts had broadened. He had discarded the notion that he absolutely had to do everything by himself.
A free mind allowed him to calculate various situations, showing him the path forward.
How had he learned to see the flow of the battlefield through intuition?
It was thanks to Abnayor, the genius strategist and current hostage of the Border Guard, who had lured him into a trap.
It was made possible by repeating countless "todays."
His accumulated experience had become a lighthouse of intuition, and its light still shone brightly upon his surroundings.
'Repetition and experience.'
Such thoughts followed one after another.
How many times had Encrid repeated "today" during this time?
It was too difficult to even count. The mere fact that his mind had not worn away made him worthy of the Ferryman's recognition.
Indeed, a part of the Ferryman's ego respected him for that very reason.
Of course, there was no way for Encrid to know the Ferryman's inner thoughts.
Having repeated today so many times, his intuition had sharpened to a razor's edge. When he was trapped in today like this, he could see ahead. Although there was a dark, pitch-black wall with no end in sight, he naturally came to believe that if he held out, the faint light of the lighthouse would guide his way.
This was likely an additional ability that even the Ferryman had not anticipated.
As the light was absorbed, he reached "today" once again.
In the face of the reality he had repeated over and over, Encrid did nothing but reflect on what he had learned, without fail.
'How to utilize weapons.'
He applied what he had learned from his first teacher.
That meant knowing how to use physical weapons and tools, but it also included knowing how to wield his martial power, which was different from before.
"When the power you possess changes, the tactics to use it must also change. It is only natural."
Luagarne's words flashed through his mind.
Next, the techniques of his second teacher, Donapa, were also helpful. Donapa had eliminated all impurities with a single, simple thought. In that manner, Encrid swung his axe and surpassed his current limits.
And what he learned from the third, the Single-Edged Sword, was the Will that changed according to his mood, and the breathing technique.
Encrid repeated today more than thirty times after that.
And at the end, he heard a strange remark from the Balrog. It was strange from the Balrog's perspective, but natural to Encrid.
—Is dying slowly your tactic?
Instead of answering, Encrid laughed. He had just realized the difference between his own Will and the Will shown by the Balrog, as well as everyone else's, including Ragna. He had finally adapted to it.
Until the very end, he tried to see if he could win with just this one thing, but he lost.
The fight was fierce, rough, and stubborn, but it was merely a today that had passed.
A today that no one else needed to know about vanished just like that.
However, Encrid knew. Because those "todays" had accumulated, allowing him to clearly see the light of the lighthouse pointing toward tomorrow.
That was why, at the start of the two hundred and twenty-sixth today, Encrid looked at Lino and asked a question.
"Is this the teacher's territory?"
In the Labyrinth, there are lit areas and dark areas. And they live here.
Counting only the number of "todays," Encrid had also spent more than half a year here. He had reflexively observed his surroundings during that time.
That was the conclusion he had reached.
They had their own territories. Was their ability to maintain some degree of self due to the Balrog's tolerance?
'No, it is because of his amusement.'
The Demon of Struggle, whose ultimate goal was to fight and fight again, trapped them in the Labyrinth and made them challenge him.
For that was the pleasure he possessed.
The Balrog's clones, torn off in the form of fragments, occupied territories in various places, provoking intelligent races to draw out their skills, only to slaughter them in the end.
He had granted a personal space to those gathered in this manner.
A private room inside the Labyrinth, so to speak.
It lacked the special qualities one might find in a grand city inn, consisting of nothing but a desolate space inside a cave, but he could tell it was their domain.
"……Hmm? Does our guest know a thing or two? But 'teacher'? That's a unique way to address me."
Having learned quite a lot, Encrid had called him that.
"I know a fair bit."
"Ah, I see."
Lino tilted his head from side to side and let his arms droop. It was his signal before attacking.
Encrid, without a word, manifested his Will of the Fortress Wall. He was provoking Lino to try and cross it. Lino's eyebrows twitched. His brow furrowed, and the corners of his mouth twisted upward.
"Where do you think you're showing off those cheap tricks?"
He drew one of his flame-igniting swords and took a stance. It was a posture that suggested he would charge the moment he overcame the intimidation.
It was not a clumsy stance, but Encrid knew it was a deception.
If Lino had been one of the Order of Madness, Encrid would have told him this:
"It would be better to discard deception and focus solely on technique."
His discernment had grown. He had just finished teaching Pel and Ropode, and had even guided Roman onto a new path. In between, he had repeatedly taught and learned, selecting only the most necessary elements to redefine his skills.
In Encrid's eyes, the path Lino needed to take was clear. Of course, he had no intention of saying this aloud. The opponent before him was an enemy, not someone to embrace. Moreover...
'He isn't even a living person.'