CHAPTER 279

"Throw it."

As soon as Encrid's words fell, Jaxon's hand moved.

There was no time to care about the sound of the air being sliced.

The sly feral cat with reddish-brown hair, standing seven steps ahead, hurled a stone, and what appeared as a dot expanded right in front of his eyes.

As his concentration heightened, he perceived the trajectory of the flying stone.

It was the moment he turned his body to avoid it. Another stone appeared in the spot where he was dodging.

It was a throwing technique that occupied space with a time difference.

Encrid's body twisted in the realm of the unconscious.

Pivoting on his left foot, he pulled his body back to the right and twisted his waist in the opposite direction.

It was a movement that truly contorted his body into a bizarre shape.

Using the force from his waist, he gained momentum and, by ducking his head and rolling forward, avoided all the stones.

"Weren't you supposed to dodge in place?"

A nonchalant tone reached his ears.

"I will, eventually."

It wasn't something that needed to be done right now, but after repeating it enough, it would come naturally—something that could be known without peering into the future.

If you keep walking steadily, you'll pass the milestones and reach your destination. He had proven this with his body and learned it with his life.

Encrid answered indifferently. He stood up and brushed off the dust from his body.

It was the moment when the blue light signaling dawn was crushed by the rising sun, turning into orange and yellow hues.

Early in the morning, the time when everyone awakens.

As if on cue, the entire company was outside, watching Encrid and Jaxon.

Each one had a different look in their eyes.

Rem was bundled up in warm fur, with eyes that seemed to ask why they were doing this nonsense in the cold early morning.

Audin had a pleased smile on his face.

Ragna looked on indifferently, twirling his wrist.

Teresa wasn't present due to her duties, and Dunbachel glanced at Rem and then at Encrid before shaking her head alone.

She wanted to imitate Encrid, but she figured that if she made Rem do it, he'd end up smashing his own head with a rock.

Encrid didn't pay attention to the gazes and instead immersed himself in his thoughts.

It was a thought that had occupied him throughout two months of constant walking, running, and fighting.

'The Sense of Evasion is a reflex that occurs in the realm of the unconscious.'

Seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, and smelling are called the five senses.

The sixth sense is what condenses these senses into one and reaches a conclusion before the process is understood.

Intuition is the ability to perceive without going through the processes of sensation, experience, association, judgment, or reasoning.

The Sense of Evasion is a technique created from intuition in the realm of the sixth sense.

Until now, he thought that was enough.

'No, it's not.'

Pondering was both Encrid's habit and everything to him.

He pondered and saw the path he had to take.

It was, as always, a thorny path. A rough and rugged road. A path that climbs cliffs.

But he would enjoy the journey nonetheless.

'In the realm of consciousness.'

Read all the trajectories of the incoming stones, dodge them, and incorporate deliberate movements.

That would serve as 'preparation' for the next move.

It was the conclusion he had reached by combining what he had learned from the unnamed Correct Sword Technique, what he had gained through experience, and what he had realized by observing Jaxon's preparation.

"Again."

The goal was to dodge all the stones flying at close range while in place and to elicit the intended reaction speed.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing he was doing.

After this, it was Audin's turn.

"Brother, you seem to enjoy hardship."

"Why are you saying that with such a wide grin?"

"Well, of course, because the Lord said, 'One cannot speak of hardship without walking the path of hardship'."

Encrid interpreted the words of the ignorant religious brute in his own way.

In other words, it sounded to him like Audin was saying he was delighted at the prospect of half-killing him through training.

Encrid smiled back.

Walking the path of hardship, if there's fruit at the end, he'll be satisfied whether it's sweet or bitter.

For a man who never stopped walking in place, even a small reward would be precious.

Whether it's a sweet fruit or a bitter one, a fruit is still a fruit.

And that made Audin quite happy.

Even though he was hinting that he might half-kill him, wasn't he smiling like this?

"Let's do it."

Audin taught Encrid partial strengthening training.

It was an advanced technique even among the Isolation Techniques, truly a path of hardship.

Previously, to improve flexibility, he had broken down and stretched his body joint by joint.

This time, it was about training different parts of the body separately.

He divided the day into three: the upper body in the morning, the lower body at noon, and the hidden muscles in the evening.

"There are muscles that are easy to feel and see, but there are also those that are not visible. In the Isolation Techniques, we refer to these as inner muscles. For example, here."

As he spoke, Audin jabbed a finger around Encrid's waist.

A terrible pain, like being stabbed all over with knives, started from his waist and spread throughout his body.

"Huh."

The pain was so intense that he let out a groan without realizing it.

"Exactly. We'll be training those muscles."

Next was the Regeneration Body.

"Then comes the Strong Body."

He trained his inner and outer muscles to the point of near torture. Rolling and rolling again.

"Normally, this would take years of pouring effort into it, but Brother Commander, you might be a genius when it comes to building your body. Body training is also a matter of talent. Not many people realize that. Additionally, it's curious. You seemed to have little talent in the physical realm, yet here you are. I suppose it's a talent that's invisible to my eyes."

As he continued to speak at length, only half of it registered in Encrid's mind.

When you're repeatedly sitting and standing on one leg with three stones tied to your back, you tend not to hear the sounds around you.

Sweat poured down his face.

Winter weather couldn't compete with the heat of training.

"Good."

Audin smiled broadly. Encrid smiled back. Just because something was harsh didn't mean it was bad.

This was its own kind of enjoyment.

Every training session was equally intense.

For example, carrying a stone or even Audin on his back while walking like a beast.

To develop ankle flexibility, he stood on one foot with a stone on his back and picked up coins from the ground.

He repeated all of this dozens, even hundreds of times.

It was grueling, exhausting, and difficult. He couldn't afford to lose focus. Since it wasn't something that yielded results overnight, it could have easily become boring.

But he did it. Without persistence, what would be left of Encrid?

Besides, for him, this wasn't boring at all.

"I'll do it too!"

Dunbachel, who was next to him, insisted on joining in, but after fifty laps of beast walking—a technique where you use your hands like feet to train your muscles in isolation—her face turned pale.

Still, even as she dripped sweat onto the ground, Dunbachel persisted.

Though her gaze, cast repeatedly at Encrid whenever he was struggling, seemed rather strange, it wasn't something to dwell on.

Encrid was too busy reviewing and refining his own training.

Rolling his body was a daily routine.

And in all that rolling, he couldn't neglect his sword training.

The first lesson of the Fluid Sword Technique: just because you strike softly doesn't mean it's not a blade.

In the end, he honed a swordsmanship style he roughly named the Snake Sword.

After that came the unnamed Correct Sword Technique.

Then he returned to the Middle Sword Technique, and finally, he pondered speed and technical swordsmanship.

He polished, searched, and pursued this over and over again.

"Rem!"

He didn't forget to apply what he had learned and realized through Rem.

"Damn it, do you think I'm some kind of combat puppet who fights whenever you call? It feels like you're treating me like a human golem!"

Encrid was taken aback. He had secretly been thinking of Rem as something like that.

Does he have mind-reading powers?

"If you don't want to, just leave."

Ragna, who had been quietly watching from the side, spoke as he sharpened his sword on a whetstone.

Scrape, Ting!

Seeing him take care of his sword like that, it felt like watching a child finally come of age.

"Get lost, you lazy weasel, before I split your skull with an axe."

Rem immediately turned his head and glared at him. It was just part of the routine.

"Yeah, the blade's well sharpened now, so it'll be good to stain it with some barbarian blood."

Ragna tried to rise with his sword in hand. It looked like a fight was about to break out.

"Both of you can come at me if you want."

Encrid provoked them both.

At those words, Rem and Ragna's gazes shifted back to Encrid.

Rem blinked, and Ragna sat back down.

Scrape—he resumed sharpening his sword.

It was just one sentence, but it was a very effective way to defuse the fight.

"You're gonna lose." 

Ragna said, still seated.

"Alright."

Rem approached, smacking the back of his hand with the flat of his axe.

Ragna stood up with his sword and began practicing his swings on the other side of the training ground.

Sometimes slow, sometimes fast.

Encrid observed for a moment, then silently picked up his sword. Gripping it with both hands, he focused, trying to read Rem's intentions.

Sword against sword, blade against blade.

The cold air cut between them. In the past, their first sparring match had been nothing more than a whimsical pastime for Rem.

Afterward, the axe carried a playful edge to it.

But now?

Even Rem couldn't take Encrid lightly.

'He's a monster. A real monster.'

Rem thought to himself. If talent could be overcome with effort, then the term 'monster' was more fitting than anything else.

That made it all the more interesting.

At first, he was just curious to see when Encrid would break, thinking he'd just sit back and watch. But before he knew it, he had become part of Encrid's Company, and it felt like he had become a true subordinate to him.

'If the people back home saw this, they'd freak out.'

Rem briefly thought about the past, about what he had left behind in his hometown. But then he quickly let it go, letting those thoughts fly away from his mind.

What did it matter now?

He soon crossed his hands, holding the axes.

The blades met each other lightly, like a greeting.

Thump.

At the sound of the crossed axes, Encrid moved.

He lowered his upper body and kicked off the ground, rushing forward in an instant. Rem saw everything. A boldness surged from around his heart, compelling him to face his opponent directly. His dynamic vision was on a completely different level from an ordinary person.

Rem twisted his left foot and swung his axe.

Whoosh!

Normally, even if blocked, this would have been a slash as fast and bright as a ray of light, cutting through the sword, forearm, and torso.

It was a heavy ray of light, augmented by weight, but Encrid deflected it with his sword.

However, because he didn't advance even half a step further, despite deflecting the axe, he couldn't drive his sword forward.

The Snake Sword was blocked.

Rem swung his second axe.

A double slash.

It was a technique Rem was confident in.

And Encrid blocked the second axe as well.

The moment Rem realized this, he couldn't help but feel a surge of joy.

"Good!"

At that moment, the heated fur that Rem had draped over his back went flying off with a whoosh.

Revealing his bare arms, Rem bared his fangs in a wide grin.

It was a full-faced smile.

After deflecting the two slashes, Encrid stood facing him, sword in hand.

Naturally, he smiled too.

From the side, they looked like madmen.

Why would they be smiling while fighting as if trying to kill each other?

Anyway, this was Encrid's daily routine as of late.

Ever since he returned, he focused solely on training, sparring, and conditioning.

He didn't even fulfill his duties as the Training Company Commander.

Before he could use being busy as an excuse, a new scouting unit had to be assembled, and the number of troops on duty doubled.

The situation around them was so tense.

He couldn't afford to run outside for training or to go hunting beasts or monsters.

Naturally, the commissions also halted.

However, they couldn't stop the movement of merchants or large trading companies.

Their territory was still becoming a central hub for trade.

All of this could be wiped out by a single blaze, but for now, it was the best they could do.

It was around this time that Marcus was busy trying to handle the situation that had just exploded.

Encrid didn't concern himself with either Viscount Tarnin or the Black Blade Bandits.

He had decided what he needed to do, and he did just that. He moved and acted. When it was time to step in, he would. But he felt that time hadn't come yet.

If Marcus knew, he might be stunned, but the truth was, Encrid's involvement wouldn't have changed anything, so this was indeed the right approach.

And so, about two weeks passed.

"You're still the same."

Marcus came to find Encrid.

It was in the private training ground in front of the Independent Company's barracks.

Snow was pouring down heavily from above, making the soldiers curse under their breath.

If left alone, the snow would turn the ground into an icy mess and make it even harder to clear, so they were probably sighing deeply as they watched it fall.

A makeshift roof had been set up in one corner of the training ground, with pillars holding it up.

Leaning halfway against one of those pillars, Marcus spoke with a bitter smile.

"I've been completely outplayed."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving."

Puzzled, Encrid looked at him intently, and Marcus sighed heavily before continuing.

"To the Capital, the central city."

Suddenly? Encrid had ears, too. He knew that the situation around them had become a complete mess.

Without reinforcements, they were like a thin candle in the wind.

Of course, that thin candle wouldn't go out easily.

But now Marcus was pulling out? No, he said he had been outplayed, so that wasn't it. It wasn't that he was pulling out, but that someone had applied pressure.

"The next Lordship will be handed over to the 1st Company Commander."

Encrid exhaled a deep breath and set down the iron club, which weighed as much as ten swords, that he had coaxed and persuaded the blacksmith to make.

It was a good training tool that naturally strengthened the forearms, wrists, and even the core when swung.

Of course, it was also helpful for refining swordsmanship, a method of training to instill more precise sword techniques into the body.

As a thud echoed, Marcus briefly glanced down.

He saw the blunt end of the sword firmly lodged at an angle into the frozen ground.

What is that? Marcus once again reminded himself of how much of a monster Encrid was.

As he stood there, Krais poked his head out of the barracks.

"Oh, Battalion Commander, you're here?"

Krais opened the door and gave a gesture that somewhat resembled a salute.

It didn't look sharp by any means, more like a half-hearted attempt at a military salute.

"At ease."

Marcus waved his hand dismissively.

Encrid clasped his hands together, resting them on top of the grip.

"Tobacco?"

Marcus asked.

"I don't smoke."

Marcus put a cigarette in his mouth. Just as he was about to strike the flint, Krais hurried over and handed him a small ember.

Marcus lit the cigarette, taking a deep drag before exhaling.

The white smoke mixed with his breath and spread into the air, its acrid scent stinging his nostrils.

The cigarette was made from rolled leaves, and it didn't exactly smell pleasant.

What followed was a conversation that was simple and straightforward.