Chapter 790: A Time of Tribute
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 790: A Time of Tribute
Veins throbbed in Lino’s eyes. He leveled his twin swords, held straight and true. There was no need to cross them; what he needed now was raw, unadulterated momentum.
He forged that momentum through his stance, manifesting his Intimidation into a physical form. A sharp, spectral sword stabbed at the Castle Wall. Like an awl, his Intimidation pried into the cracks of the solid fortification, piercing through.
"...What on earth is this?"
Then, Lino faced a second Intimidation. There wasn't just one Castle Wall.
A double manifestation of Intimidation?
Shock was the only natural response. Even Lino had never seen such a feat.
Encrid figured his opponent wouldn't be able to scale the Castle Wall easily—it was much like being crushed under the intangible pressure of a Balrog. Of course, Intimidation alone couldn't actually kill a man.
He had other motives, but for now, this was a simple experiment.
"I didn't create this to use against you, Teacher," Encrid said.
He spoke kindly, his words layered with sincerity and consideration. And yet—
"Cut the bullshit!" Lino roared.
The sensation of being overwhelmed by his opponent's momentum only fueled his rage.
"Take it easy."
Encrid offered another piece of advice. The veins in Lino’s eyes looked ready to burst.
You bastard.
Lino refocused. The veins on the backs of his hands, gripping his twin blades, bulged like writhing red snakes.
Encrid remained a mere spectator. He did nothing but suppress his opponent with his sheer presence. In a way, it was exactly how the Balrog behaved—staring blankly even when an opening presented itself.
One remained perfectly serene, while the other’s bulging veins and bloodshot eyes laid bare his agitation and strain.
Still, Intimidation was just Intimidation. For a warrior of a knight's caliber, overcoming it was merely a matter of time.
Lino did exactly that. He scaled three Castle Walls in total.
"Haaah!"
He let out a thunderous battle cry. Naturally, it was a feint. In truth, Teacher Lino had been stalling halfway through, biding his time to find the perfect moment to scale the wall. It was an effort to keep himself in peak condition and a trap to launch a counterattack should Encrid rush in to exploit an opening.
Yet Encrid merely watched the entire process. Only after hearing Lino's shout did he draw Dawn Forge.
Even that motion wasn't particularly fast. It was simply natural and smooth, like a polite gesture welcoming a guest inside.
That was precisely what made it so terrifying. Lino knew this instinctively.
Shhhring.
Emitting a sky-blue light, the blade thrust toward Lino’s solar plexus.
Drawing and thrusting merged into a single, seamless motion. Broken down, the process consisted of three distinct actions—drawing, pulling back, and thrusting—but his fluid grace made them appear as one.
Clash!
Just before Lino’s flashing swords could cross, they were intercepted. The twin blades failed to meet, blocked by Dawn Forge. A sky-blue wall of light barred the path between the two blades, separating them like yearning lovers.
"...You're quick on the uptake!" Lino shouted again.
His agitated tone was still a deceptive act.
Naturally, it didn't work. Encrid had long since grown familiar with Teacher Lino's tricks. Moreover, he calmly observed every movement, employing the Sword of Chance to shut them down. He was cutting off the starting point of every action.
Every subsequent attack from Teacher Lino was neutralized in the same manner.
When Lino tried to step forward with his left foot, Encrid kicked it away. When Lino tried to cross his twin swords again, Encrid slid Dawn Forge right between them.
In response, Lino drew a dagger with a blade so warped it looked bent. It was a peculiar weapon, featuring five serrations resembling a beast's fangs. He used it to trap Dawn Forge, attempting to snap Encrid's blade.
Screeech!
Sparks showered violently from the dagger locked against Dawn Forge as the metal shrieked in protest. Encrid didn't even bother to check his sword's condition.
There was no need. The only things that broke were the teeth of the dagger.
"My Imprinted Weapon doesn't break."
When infused with his Will, its durability could withstand even the Balrog's slashes. He had already put it to the test. This was how one utilized every capability of their weapon; the sheer durability of Dawn Forge was a weapon in its own right.
Having failed to break the blade, Lino tried to leap backward while Encrid was still explaining. Encrid pursued him, drawing Penna in a swift upward slash.
The blade cleanly split Lino's body in two.
"...You bastard, the way you handle a blade..."
Concealing the durability of his sword, only to exploit the moment it was revealed as an opportunity to strike—it was the perfect way to utilize a weapon. Lino spoke in genuine admiration.
Encrid replied calmly, "I learned it from you, Teacher."
"Fuck, 'Teacher' my ass... Still, it was fun."
Those were the last words that escaped his split lips.
"...Well, isn't that enough then, Teacher?"
Encrid replied to the empty air. The light from the torch stand flickered, casting swaying shadows. He walked on, noting that this had been his longest fight with Lino yet. It had been intentional.
Passing through a dark corridor untouched by the torchlight, he stepped back into the light to find the next person waiting for him.
"My name is Donapa!"
Encrid raised his sword without a word. This was a man who preferred to speak with steel rather than words. Even after facing Donapa's heavy axe swings, the flow of the battle remained the same.
Block, and block again.
Just as he had humored Lino's attacks, he did the same here. A defense rooted in the Wave-Blocking Sword simplified his thoughts, filtering out all distractions as he deflected the descending axe.
The Balrog's slashes.
It was a similar style. For an instant, Donapa's Will condensed and settled into his axe. Though he hadn't triggered a Point Explosion, his strike carried a weight that defied deflection, crashing straight down from above. Sharper than a guillotine's blade, the constricting pressure of the strike felt as if heavy iron chains were wrapping around his body.
Choosing simplicity over complexity.
His axe strikes, rooted in the Heavy Sword Style, were intertwined with a manifestation of Intimidation. If the Balrog's took the form of chains and Encrid's was a Castle Wall, Donapa's axe strikes came with a net that bound the entire body.
If one were to extract the Balrog's Intimidation and channel it into an axe strike...
...it would look exactly like Donapa's right now. Encrid had essentially dissected the technique down to its core principles. While Lino had focused on the Balrog's wingbeats and the uniqueness of his weapon, Donapa had honed his skills by building upon the Balrog's Intimidation.
Of course, it posed no threat to Encrid.
His Will of Rejection tore through and shrugged off the net on its own. Moving his body afterward was effortless. The terrifyingly fast axe strike tore through the air with a sharp crack, but it was still slower than Rem's axe. At least, that was how it felt to him.
Encrid could easily track Donapa's axe with his eyes, dodging, parrying, and deflecting it. It was a masterclass in defense. The Wave-Blocking Sword shut down the axe completely.
"Haaah!"
When no counterattack came despite his failed strike, Donapa immediately gathered his strength and swung again. By now, Encrid had fully grasped Donapa's tactics. Having faced him over two hundred times, it was impossible not to. He had quietly regarded the man as a teacher and absorbed his techniques.
Even if the opponent dodging the axe strike merely loses their balance for a split second...
...it buys enough time for the next swing. That was Donapa's strategy. In essence, one attack bought the time needed to set up the next. The strategy he had learned from Teacher Donapa was also one of his keys to transcending this day.
Another long battle ensued. Donapa swung his axe eighty times. Had his body not been transformed into a Dullahan, his arm muscles surely would have ruptured. Atop his forearms, discolored to a scorched black, veins of an even deeper obsidian hue bulged in thick, uneven ridges.
Every single swing was delivered with absolute, crushing force. Donapa was not the type of warrior suited for slaughtering a thousand foot soldiers; he was the type who would excel against a hundred elite warriors capable of defeating a thousand.
Every person's combat tactics differ depending on how they trained. Donapa was a man who had forged his own path. In that respect, Lino was no different. That was precisely why there was so much to learn from them. They weren't half-witted fools who believed training was merely a matter of passing time; they were the genuine article.
Ultimately, Donapa's arm muscles were in no danger of tearing.
He must have undergone that level of training.
This man, too, was a knight. Even with every attack shut down, his spirit did not waver. He simply swung his axe once more.
Deflecting the eighty-second strike, Encrid delivered a diagonal slash across Donapa's waist. Pivoting on his left foot, his body spun as the power condensed by Vortex exploded. The Will flowing through his ankle, knee, waist, arm, and hand rushed into the sword like a boulder hurtling down a steep slope.
The sky-blue light of Dawn Forge deepened, solidifying into a sharp edge. It was the finest strike Encrid could deliver. Since the power behind Donapa's swings had visibly waned, this was the final blow.
Having learned from the man, Encrid showed him due respect. Of course, that respect manifested as cleaving his opponent in two.
Black mist scattered, drifting into the air.
"I lost."
The words came from Donapa's severed head, which had rolled to the side. He conceded defeat as he always did, but today, his tone carried a distinct note of satisfaction. The head dissolved into fine particles and vanished.
He had known he was defeated long ago, and he surely realized Encrid had intentionally dragged out the fight, but that final blow was exactly the kind of heavy strike Donapa had always yearned for.
Once again, Encrid pressed forward through the darkness.
"Oh? You know how to handle a blade, don't you?"
The wielder of the Single-Edged Sword, who ranked third among the teachers he had recently encountered, lunged at him with a smirk. Encrid set the stage, allowing her to attack freely. It was his way of showing consideration, letting her unleash everything she had.
Devoting himself entirely to defense, he minimized his movements, taking only the exact steps necessary. The Single-Edged Sword's excited Will and long breaths were excellent techniques, but they were highly wasteful. He absorbed her fundamentals but layered his own refinements over them.
Eliminating waste.
He controlled his state of mind, stopping just short of becoming intoxicated by a sense of omnipotence. He had mastered the knack of it.
Clash, clang, clang.
Their blades clashed occasionally, yet neither bore a single scratch. Encrid parried her strikes in a myriad of ways. At times, he even utilized his Elven Cloak to sweep her blade aside.
Eventually, her excitement cooled into frustration. Unable to contain her irritation, she staked everything on a single, full-power strike. It was likely one of her hidden trump cards, but it was also a technique Encrid had already witnessed thirty-five times.
Stepping back to slip outside her range, then immediately lunging forward, he completely disrupted her timing.
Even after becoming a knight, combat itself remains simple.
Knights could move fast enough to leave afterimages and shatter boulders, yet the fundamentals never changed. Disrupting timing, reading breaths, dodging and striking—it was a battle entirely faithful to those core principles.
"Dammit," the Single-Edged Sword cursed as she fell.
It was only natural to be annoyed when every single one of your attacks was shut down, only to be killed in a single counter-stroke. Yet, she too looked reasonably satisfied. For the first time in a long while, she had been pushed to her absolute limits.
"Thank you."
Perhaps that was why she left those unexpected words before dissolving into mist.
Encrid pressed onward. When the warm glow of a campfire finally came into view, he knew he had reached his destination.
"You've come."
It was Oara.
"Yes."
Encrid sat down naturally beside her in the firelight. Up to this point, it was just like any other loop—except for the fact that he had dragged out his time so sluggishly. That time had been a tribute to his three teachers.
Eventually, after exchanging a few words, Oara made a move to wrap up the conversation.
"Sigh, part of me wanted to see you here again, and part of me didn't. Honestly, if Roman had come, I was planning on sending him right back."
Oara placed her hands on her knees. Just as she was about to push herself up with a grunt, Encrid spoke up casually.
"It's been a while. How about a quick spar?"
The way he blinked after asking was the spitting image of the clueless Ragna. In truth, he had deliberately channeled Ragna’s mannerisms.
Oara showed a brief flash of bewilderment. She blinked once, then nodded.
"Sure."
She drew her sword. Shhhring— The Imprinted Weapon known as Laughter was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she held an ordinary longsword in her hand.