Chapter 806: Sparring, Calamity, Consideration
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 806: Sparring, Calamity, Consideration
"There's no need to provoke me into doing my best."
Aisia spat the words through gritted teeth.
"...Provoke?"
Encrid drew his sword, the blade known as Dawn. The forged steel shimmered with an azure light, looking as pristine as if the countless battles it had weathered meant nothing at all.
How to wash with fire.
Eitri had told him that, if possible, it was best to heat the blade once before oiling it. Following that advice, Encrid had visited the royal forge as soon as he arrived. He heated the sword and coated it with seed oil brought from the East.
"It is like seeing a woman who hides her beauty behind a rugged exterior."
It was a comment on the sword's nature—while the structure was simple, the devotion poured into its making was extraordinary.
There were several master artisans in the royal family's employ, and one of them had uttered those words. Of course, the others had immediately disagreed.
"No, this isn't hiding beauty; it's revealing it. The design is simple, but the lines are elegant."
"And those elegant lines are obscured by that very ruggedness!"
"No, look at the leather wrapping the grip. Look at how they blended the iron. This is a work of art in its own right."
"Art, my foot! A sword is a tool, a weapon meant for killing. It simply stays true to that purpose."
"And because it stays true to that purpose, it is art!"
"You damn lunatic!"
"Your utilitarianism is utter nonsense!"
Encrid had watched the three artisans bickering in the royal forge. These three were the finest craftsmen in Naurilia.
They had argued relentlessly, throwing out all kinds of opinions about Dawn. Encrid hadn't minded. Though they bickered to push their own views, they never ignored each other's expertise.
Only by acknowledging others can there be a next step.
They knew that well. At that moment, the veins on their foreheads had been bulging and their faces flushed red from the rush of blood, but once they cooled down, they would expand their thinking in new directions.
An exceptionally outstanding technique is bound to attract all kinds of opinions.
For instance, how many theories had later generations produced regarding the five swordsmanship concepts established by Lionesis Oniak?
Some were accepted, while others were discarded. Some of the accepted ones evolved further, opening entirely new paths.
The concept of the Technique Sword was like that. Jeong-Jung-Hwan-Kwae-Yu—belonging nowhere, yet carving out its own path.
It referred to a style of swordsmanship that focused solely on sheer skill, transcending the traditional concepts of heaviness, righteousness, deception, speed, and softness.
The Eastern-style Technique Sword.
The Technique Sword was an acrobatic style, once nicknamed "Eastern-style" because it was primarily used by warriors of the East.
By the same token, it was said that the South had been skilled in the Illusion Sword for generations, but that had now become a baseless rumor of little significance.
A true knight masters and blends all five styles of swordsmanship.
It was proper to focus on one while still nurturing the others. In that regard, the Technique Sword was highly unusual. It was a technique that had once even earned the nickname "the suicide sword."
He didn't know the origin of that technique, but seeing its results, he could roughly guess its lineage.
The shepherd's technique.
Traces of the Technique Sword could often be glimpsed in Pel. The Eastern-style Technique Sword must have originated from the Shepherd of the Wilderness. It was a mere guess, but his intuition told him this was the answer.
Even if it wasn't, it didn't matter. These were just idle thoughts about the blade.
In any case, Dawn was so magnificent that the three artisans had nearly come to blows over it.
Now, such a sword was pointed at his companion. It was a spar between a Knight and an Associate Knight. There was no need for wooden swords.
"Yes, a provocation," Aisia repeated, thrusting her sword forward. True to form, her blade carried a strange momentum. It was as if her killing intent and the steel had merged into one.
The Balrog fought by scattering intimidation wildly, whereas Aisia sought to refine and project that pressure. Because she hadn't yet become a Knight, she couldn't wield it in the realm of the unconscious, but the sheer momentum of it was extraordinary.
Just like Roman.
Just as Roman had once mimicked a Knight's strike, Aisia had found her own path.
"It's not a provocation. It's just the truth," Encrid replied nonchalantly. Aisia's gentle, innocent eyes began to gleam with a dangerous light.
"Ooh, hitting her with the cold, hard truth."
Rem marveled from the sidelines. Such a provocation was worth learning, so he turned the phrase over in his mind several times.
One by one, the soldiers in training gathered around to form a circle. Among them were Rem, Audin, Sinar, Ropode, and Pel.
Sachsen had already brought a chair over to one of the pillars and sat down. He remained there, carving wood with a single dagger while keeping his eyes fixed forward. Even though his gaze was locked on the spar as his dagger moved, the wood was shaved away smoothly, thin curls sliced by the blade falling to the ground.
Only Ragna continued to swing his sword off to the side as if none of this concerned him. To an outsider, he might have looked like he was swinging half-heartedly, but to those who knew of his genius, it looked entirely different.
"That clueless bastard is over there playing with his stick again," Rem muttered.
Whether people were watching or not, Aisia shut out her surroundings. She tuned everything else out, focusing solely on the opponent standing before her.
My opponent is a Knight.
If things went even slightly awry, she would not only lose but fail to put up any proper resistance. She hated that. She, too, had undergone bone-shaving training.
"Didn't I say that's enough by now?"
Her younger sibling had asked in a weary tone, but she was not satisfied. Moreover, she enjoyed it. Only after the skin on her palms had split open several times did she remember why she had swung her sword day and night during her childhood.
Because it's fun.
If it weren't enjoyable, she wouldn't have been able to swing her sword like that.
My absolute best strike.
Her gentle eyes narrowed. Summoning her concentration, Aisia's sword moved.
Restraint.
Unleashing everything she had. That was her goal.
Encrid read the form of intimidation descending from her sword, tangling like vines to bind his limbs. It was something that might have surprised others, but to him, it felt incredibly natural. Encrid's intuition was far superior to that of an ordinary Knight.
Aisia has always favored using intimidation.
He recalled the first time he met her.
"Me? Aisia."
Back then, she had projected an intimidation that felt like an invisible blade slicing his throat. Even when they clashed afterward, she had used a style derived from that. By making the tip of her sword appear as a single point, she restricted her opponent's movements. Now, she had developed it even further. The blade falling from above carried a clear intent to bind his entire body.
She had refined her innate specialty.
Intimidation is a sword laden with will.
Though it couldn't be said to be stronger than the Balrog's...
Her direction is correct.
Clang!
Encrid didn't even need his Wall of Rejection; with sheer will alone, he shook off Aisia's technique and struck her sword aside. The pouring rain scattered in all directions around the two of them.
Aisia did not give up just because her strike was blocked. Believing she still had a long way to go, she pulled back her sword and shifted her footing.
Just as Aisia changed her stance and prepared to thrust with a feint, Encrid read every single point of attack she was attempting.
Five.
To be precise, there were five possible trajectories for her sword. All of them were laid bare within the realm of his insight.
Extinguishing the Embers.
Encrid's left foot lightly tapped the back of Aisia's right knee. With that single touch, all possibilities of her attack were shattered.
Aisia immediately pulled back her struck leg and swung her sword again. In an instant, her points of attack multiplied and shifted. Specifically, she attempted to slash vertically from top to bottom.
In her mindscape, the movement was already complete, but reality would not permit it.
Slash.
This time, the inside of her elbow was grazed. Dawn, having slipped inside her guard before she knew it, brushed past with a light tap. Her protective gear was sliced open, and the leather fell to the wet ground like a scrap of paper.
Aisia did not give up, and Encrid showed no mercy. Every single attack was repeatedly broken and torn apart.
"He's relentless," Rem remarked.
Before anyone knew it, Ragna had also stopped swinging his sword and was watching.
"He isn't even letting her begin," Ragna chimed in.
Those with discerning eyes fully understood the situation. To those without, however, it would have looked like an acrobat's performance. One side would swing their sword only to stop, while the other merely made light movements, tapping away a foot or a blade—yet every action aligned perfectly as if choreographed.
"Hmm."
Lieban was among the onlookers. Though his eye was not at the level of a Knight, he believed that Encrid was not someone to waste his movements. No, it wasn't just belief; it was blind faith. If a Cult of Encrid were to be founded this very moment, he was more than willing to become its first disciple.
Thus, he pondered what meaning lay within those exchanges, and that became a valuable lesson for Lieban. There were indeed others like him for whom the spar itself served as a lesson. Having never slacked in their training, they were prepared, possessing both the determination and the desire to learn anything without prejudice.
The spar did not last long. Aisia failed to land a single proper attack, and Encrid had not even swung Dawn in earnest.
"Damn it."
The moment the clash ceased and the two stepped back, Aisia spoke. She hung her head, her shoulders trembling slightly.
In the eyes of an ordinary soldier, even an Associate Knight was a monster. But Knights were beings who transcended even that monstrous category. They could not be measured by standard scales. That was what a Knight was.
A calamity.
It was not for nothing that such a word was associated with them.
Seeing her trembling shoulders, some onlookers assumed Aisia was crying. She must be so frustrated she can't hold it in, they thought.
Encrid, however, knew all too well that was not the case. When Aisia lifted her head, her gentle eyes looked the same as always, but the will burning within them was unmistakable.
"I'm not giving up either."
Were those words dripping with desperate resolve? No, they sounded like the words of someone thoroughly enjoying the present.
"Yeah. From now on, if you slip up, you die. You might lose an arm."
Encrid spoke nonchalantly as he moved. Shifting from his posture of yielding the first strike, he boldly lunged forward. Aisia's sword rose at an angle to meet Dawn's blade.
Clang.
The metal clashed, as if the blades were greeting each other in delight.
After that, neither of them uttered a single word, let alone a battle cry. Aisia had no choice, as even catching her breath was a struggle, while Encrid remained silent because there was no need to speak.
Aisia felt as though she had run into an insurmountable wall. She could not control the distance as she pleased, yet Encrid's sword felt as if it could pierce her throat at any moment. To survive all those threats, her only option was to struggle with everything she had.
And so she did. She held on like someone dangling from the edge of a cliff by her fingertips. Her core ached, and her forearms felt as if they were about to snap.
The spar continued for half a day.
"Why is it that every time I come here, you guys are fighting?"
Marcus, who appeared shortly after, muttered to himself before immediately nodding.
"Well, I suppose this is how they've always been."
It wasn't for nothing that the Order of Madness earned its name.
"Ugh... huff... ah..."
Aisia finally collapsed from exhaustion, and a few familiar soldiers supported her as they led her away.
"You knock down a woman every single time," Sinar made a dry joke upon seeing this.
As she was leaving, Aisia gave Encrid a nod. One of her arms was draped over the shoulder of a friendly soldier. Her gaze held a mixture of gratitude and several other emotions. Encrid nodded back, falling into brief contemplation.
Will she make it?
He had seen Aisia's potential, unlocked it, and helped her. Yet, he could not guarantee that she would become a Knight.
Now I see just how lucky Ropode and Pel were.
Seeing Roman and then Aisia made him realize it. He dared not jump to conclusions about the futures of those two. He could somehow drag them up to the level of an Associate Knight. But even among Associate Knights, there was a vast difference in skill.
If it's someone at Castellan Graham's level...
Could he literally grab them by the collar and drag them up? At the very least, the probability of that was far higher than them becoming a Knight. But beyond that?
Who knows.
He had opened a path for Roman as well, but Roman might remain in that spot for the rest of his life. Just because a path was cleared didn't mean one would walk it. The same went for Aisia.
Becoming a Knight was inherently such an arduous journey.
"Enki, I'll need to ask you to escort His Majesty tomorrow," Marcus said as he approached. It was just as the pattering rain was coming to a stop.
"Me?"
"It was supposed to be Aisia's job, but in that state, she's unlikely to be fit for duty tomorrow, wouldn't you say?"
He was right. It was because Encrid had fought with consideration. He had pushed her so she could learn even a little and climb higher. Thanks to that, not a single part of her limbs would be free of aches.
That was Encrid's version of consideration. Rather than a safe spar that left the body unscathed, it was one that drove the opponent to the brink, pushing them to the next step.
"I will."
Having no reason to refuse, Encrid nodded.
The escort duty Marcus requested was for Krang's inspection of the capital. In other words, the King was going to tour the city. Just because there were unsettling movements and undercurrents did not mean he would postpone his duties. That was the will Krang possessed.
"I would like to spar as well."
Lieban, who had been watching, gathered his courage and spoke. Behind him, others who had gained some realization also began to line up one by one.
"If Big-Eyes were here, he would've squeezed a few gold coins out of them for each spar," Rem chuckled. Then, he turned his gaze toward those who had failed to notice anything during the previous spar.
"You lot, get over here. Your mental discipline is lacking."
To think they had such poor eyes that they couldn't even recognize greatness when it was shown to them.
Soon, wails of agony echoed across the training ground.