Chapter 793: Indules and Mental Attack
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 793: Indules and Mental Attack
‘Division of roles.’
This was the vision Encrid had envisioned—a tactic sketched out over the course of countless repetitions of this very day.
He couldn't explain every detail of that plan right now, but he knew that if he simply showed them, they would understand what to do.
‘They have the experience.’
They had already coordinated their movements once before when breaking through Count Molsen's army of wraiths. Of course, this battle was on a far more complex level. One didn't need to think deeply to realize that. The opponent was in a different league, and their own levels had shifted. Discrepancies were inevitable.
Fwoosh!
A flame whip lashed out without warning. Curving through the air, the fiery serpent coiled into a noose, attempting to snare Audin's forearm.
The movement was so incredibly fast that the beast seemed to be unfurling a curtain of fire in midair. It was an illusion born of pure speed and afterimages.
Encrid stepped into the gap. Audin reflexively raised his fist, then backed away. Encrid smoothly thrust his sword toward the loop, parrying it aside. If he tried to cut it, the whip would only tangle and bind him. This was a method guided by the weight of his accumulated experience.
"Brother?" Audin called out.
"I'll handle the blocking."
As Encrid spoke, the Balrog snapped its left wrist downward and slid its foot along the ground. Its right index finger lifted, then firmly gripped Urt once more. Every single one of those micro-movements threw an error into Encrid's calculations. The most troublesome thing about the Balrog was not its wild flame whip, nor its horns, nor its sword that spat black fire.
‘It’s the grappling.’
The Balrog was a master of close-quarters wrestling. Even if one fought by condensing Will, moving at speeds beyond all limits to cut through rock and steel, once the melee began, all that remained was the fundamental cycle: dodging, cutting, blocking, and cutting again.
The Balrog had mastered those principles. If necessary, it would thrust its sword with lightning speed, mix in feints with subtle gestures, and deliver a brutal kick straight to the solar plexus.
Encrid had fallen for it multiple times. Was it possible to predict and dodge it all? There was a specific sword style he had forged for this exact purpose.
‘Wave-Blocking Sword.’
Its name signified a blade that could block even the relentless waves; its manifestation was the absolute negation of attacks; its training was the discipline of thought. To this, he added everything he had mastered so far. The Sword of Chance, Vortex—everything he possessed was woven together into a singular focus: to block.
The Balrog's body swayed left and right, leaving blurry afterimages in its wake. It feinted left, then lunged right, swinging its sword in a massive arc.
The beast was heading toward where Sinar had retreated. Encrid’s body gave chase. He threw himself between Sinar and the Balrog, swinging his blade.
As his thoughts accelerated, he read the trajectory of the beast's sword first. Then, the Balrog thrust out its foot. It was a pattern Encrid had fallen for time and time again—which meant it was a move he already knew.
He parried the sword, pulled his own blade back, and slammed the pommel of his sword into the sole of the Balrog's foot.
Boom!
An explosive shockwave erupted between them. Encrid took three steps back, dispersing the residual force, while the Balrog pulled back its extended foot, kicked off the ground, and immediately surged forward again.
Though he had called it a division of roles, their coordination wasn't perfect yet. If the Mad Knights were a single body, their limbs were currently tangled.
Rem couldn't easily find the space to spin his sling, and Ragna hadn't even swung his sword properly. To be precise, Ragna hadn't even drawn Sunrise, merely watching the exchange with an indifferent gaze.
Sachsen had stepped back entirely, and though Sinar had drawn her Leaf Sword, she knew her physical condition wasn't fit for the vanguard, so she focused all her efforts on evasive maneuvers.
"Brother!"
Just then, the Balrog swung its left hand like a blade, slashing at Encrid's wrist. That was what prompted Audin's shout.
Yet, not a single drop of blood spilled.
"I'm fine," Encrid replied calmly.
His left hand was wrapped tightly in a double layer of cloth gauntlets. He had blocked the strike because he had slipped the gauntlet off his right hand at some point and wrapped it around his left. On top of that, he had infused the fabric with Will.
The cloth gauntlets were deeply gouged and torn, shreds of fabric hanging down.
‘How to utilize tools.’
This was an application of what he had learned from his teacher, Lino. Lino had shown him the skill of blending Will into weapons, and Encrid had studied it faithfully.
Well, whether Lino actually had any intention of teaching him was none of his concern.
If their opponent had been clumsy, they would have synchronized their breathing and fought together long ago, but the Balrog constantly disrupted them as if it knew exactly what they were trying to do.
To the beast, even this was merely a game. It couldn't even conceive of its own defeat. Because of that absolute belief, the Balrog's Will only grew denser and heavier.
And the same went for Encrid.
"Ah, what do you want me to do?" Rem grumbled from behind.
They seemed like a gathering of discordant musicians, but Encrid knew that if he showed them the way, they would figure it out on their own. That trust remained unchanged. No, Encrid truly believed it.
And if they couldn't? Then they would all die. There was no helping that. The Balrog possessed a level of martial might that no one present could face alone.
Did it spot a brief opening, or was it trying to gouge one open? The Balrog attempted to bind everyone by manifesting its Intimidation.
Charred chains manifested, seeking to bind their bodies. The Balrog's Intimidation was not something easily shaken off.
Of course, Encrid had already broken through it countless times.
‘Rejection.’
A mental fortress wall blocked the chains, repelling them. Intimidation was originally a pressure forged from fear and murderous intent—a trait belonging to monsters. It was only natural for the Balrog to use it so skillfully, yet it was deflected. And Encrid wasn't the only one.
Sorcery was inherently adept at rejecting this kind of spiritual pressure.
"Not a chance."
Rem leaped back a few paces, shaking off the Intimidation. Retreating didn't mean he had escaped its domain; rather, he had deflected the pressure by embedding a sorcerous meaning into the movement itself.
"In the Lord Father, I shall know no fear."
Audin clad himself in Holy Light Armor, facing the pressure head-on and overcoming it.
Shring.
Ragna drew Sunrise by a mere two finger-widths, cutting through the Intimidation with his own sheer momentum. Sachsen slipped behind Audin's back before the Balrog could unleash its full pressure, and Sinar stood behind Encrid at the exact same moment.
In their own ways, everyone had ignored the Balrog's Intimidation.
—Splendid!
The Balrog roared with delight. It was so thrilled that its Urt erupted in black flames. With a roaring fwoosh, the blazing greatsword doubled in size, and the flame whip twisted wildly in the air, swelling to massive proportions. At the same time, the two wings on the Balrog's back unfurled. The shadow and flames emanating from the beast seemed to crush and envelop everything around them. An acrid, burnt smell filled the air. This was the Balrog's scent.
And then.
Flutter—
Encrid's cloak billowed outward on its own, unfurling behind his back as if swaying in a breeze. There was not a single gust of wind, yet it moved.
Hummmm.
Just as Urt spat flames, Dawn Forge began to cry. The sword's vibration traveled up the hand gripping its hilt, spreading throughout Encrid's entire body.
It was an imprinted weapon because its master's Will dwelt within it. Now, that Will reacted, communicating with the sword. The blade of Dawn Forge glowed with the color of the sky. That light blended with the holy light radiating from Audin, spreading outward. Looking down from above, it was as if the Balrog's shadow occupied one half of the cave, while the holy light and sky-blue glow held the other.
Shring.
Amidst it all, the god that consumed night and darkness revealed its face.
"I will cut it down," the master of Sunrise spoke.
"Not alone, you bastard," said the vivid shadow that had formed behind the holy light, the dawn light, and Sunrise. Before anyone realized it, an unfamiliar pattern had appeared in Rem's eyes, and the shadow standing behind him had transformed into a small figure with long arms.
This was the form revealed by activating spirit possession sorcery. On top of this, he was layering Descent, the divine power of the West.
"Do you think I will just watch?" Sinar chimed in, enveloping them in the scent of wood and flowers.
"Don't mind me," Sachsen said, stepping into the darkness without belonging to any part of this cave. He was capable of doing so. For the moonlight always shines upon the night.
Because he harbored the moon within himself, he was one who would never lose his way, even in the pitch-black night.
‘With everything I have.’
A single moment of carelessness would lead to death. Death always hovered nearby, like a close friend. Having repeated this day so many times, it must have felt even more so to Encrid. But right now, no such thoughts crossed his mind.
Thump—
His heart beat so violently that it pounded against his temples. His pulse was racing.
The Balrog was no longer laughing. It wasn't because it had suddenly lost interest. It was because it had resolved to move with absolute intent.
It wore the expression Encrid often wore when he risked his life to split crystals.
Swoosh.
It felt as if he could hear the sound of time itself tearing. When the Balrog moved in earnest, it was as if they were fighting within a crack in time.
To survive here, he had to consciously elevate his body's reaction speed and dynamic visual acuity far beyond their normal limits. Otherwise, he would lose track of the beast. The Balrog was superior in every aspect—physical ability, strength, and speed.
‘Acceleration.’
Simultaneously accelerating his thoughts and raising his body's reaction speed, Encrid's mind converged on a single point. He chased only the Balrog's movements.
‘I can see it.’
Could this be called the evolved version of the Wave-Blocking Sword?
While observing the flow, he would sometimes partition his thoughts to make tactical judgments, and the moment he captured the enemy's movement, he would switch back to a single thought.
Highs and lows shifted incessantly; excitement and composure alternated without rule. It was a relentless modulation of pace. It was the kind of feat only possible for someone who could run at full speed, stop dead in their tracks, and calmly lose themselves in thought.
Furthermore, it was something Encrid had done countless times. The application of Will that went from a complete standstill to a Point Explosion in a single breath was also a branch of what he was doing now.
‘I can block it.’
Encrid surrendered himself to the ecstasy of the fight. Like a madman, he read the flow and rhythm of the Balrog's attacks, thrusting Dawn Forge forward, catching the beast's fist with his elbow, and parrying it away.
Crash! Fwoosh! Clang! Shring!
As the sky-blue light clashed with the darkness, black sparks splattered against the walls, gouging out holes.
What was the difference between his own Will and the Will of the knights, including the Balrog?
Encrid had explored, pondered, and rolled through the dirt, even hiring three new teachers. His contemplation had continued even aboard the ferryboat provided by the Ferryman.
He swung his sword while hundreds of thoughts crossed his mind. He had even dragged out time just to secure training hours.
"You bastard, stop playing around."
His teachers had frequently lost their tempers. Spending that dedicated time for them had not been in vain. It was Encrid's own way of apologizing.
He partitioned his time. In doing so, he never wasted a single "today," always acting as if the present moment were his last.
"I really want to rip open your skull."
He could almost hear the Ferryman's admiration—one filled with absolute sincerity.
An inexhaustible Will was called Uske, and what changed the very nature of what one possessed was called Indules.
‘Indules.’
It referred to the change in the properties of Will. What he had done in Zaun was a method of Will control, but what he realized now was slightly different. During this time, Encrid had shaped and sculpted his Will as if he were an alchemist or a stonemason. He refined it, broke it, shattered it on purpose, condensed it, mixed it, purified it, and let it flow.
Through all of those processes, the things his knights had shown him in the past entered the realm of his understanding.
When necessary, Sachsen fashioned his Will into a thin blade. When that Will locked together with his artifact, it became Indules. To change the very nature of what one possessed meant changing the properties of Will.
Audin created and erected boulders of light.
Rem tightened and gripped the wildly blowing wind, wielding it.
Ragna transformed his Will into a sword through the sheer determination to cut.
Was it a coincidence that everyone could do this? No.
It was possible because they had stimulated one another for so long, becoming the "we" that Rem had unconsciously spoken of.
Encrid molded the Will inside him into bricks and stacked them. A single brick would fly away with a single kick, but when gathered and stacked, they became something different. Thus, he built a fortress wall within himself. It was Indules—the Will of the Fortress Wall.
Crash!
The Balrog's Urt slipped through a gap in his thoughts and plunged vertically. Encrid simultaneously tensed his feet, glutes, and abs, raising his sword parallel to the ground to block and hold his ground.
In the past, his knees would have buckled under a blow like that, and he had been blown away countless times. But now, he could block it.
Before he knew it, the Balrog's burning sword had taken the shape of a blade forged from condensed flames.
‘Dawn Forge will not break.’
He trusted his imprinted weapon. To the way he handled a weapon, he added a simple thought, focusing solely on blocking. This was Donapa's teaching. The long breathing technique of the single-edged sword, combined with an elation akin to omnipotence, condensed his Will even more solidly. He blocked it by layering the teachings of everyone.
Beyond the blade held parallel to the ground, the corners of Encrid's mouth curled upward. He was smiling without even realizing it.
The Balrog smiled back.
It was a smile that seemed to ask, You blocked this? The flames that served as its pupils swirled relentlessly.
Even if death awaited at the end of this ecstasy, he would fight gladly, for that was his very reason for being.
Such was the Balrog's life.
The sword, swung with all the beast's gathered strength, had been blocked. Thanks to that, an opening appeared in the Balrog's movements, and at the same time, a sense of unity emerged in the previously discordant movements of the others.
Click.
It was the sound of misaligned gears finally clicking into place. Though it wasn't a sound that actually echoed in the physical world.
From its downward-slanted stance, the Balrog pulled back only its left hand to block the front of its forehead.
Boom!
A projectile flew in and exploded against it. As black crystal dust scattered over the beast's arm, it diffusely reflected the light. Naturally, it was Rem's handiwork.
"Since this vice-captain will shove it down its throat, everyone just move as you see fit. Got it?"
His nonsense blasted out in succession. It was a mental attack—though no one knew whether it was directed at his allies or his enemy.