CHAPTER 433

The madman, a wanderer in search of a dream and a lunatic, encountered three Knights.

The first was a Knight of Aspen.

His every technique was both fast and strong.

Even if you knew it, you couldn't block it.

Well, perhaps now he could block a half-hearted blow, but back then, it certainly felt that way.

His overall physical abilities seemed to be on a different level from ordinary humans. His swordsmanship reflected that.

The next encounter was with the Mercenary King, Anu.

He didn't show everything he had. What he displayed was only a fraction of his skills.

Moreover, the Mercenary King was a beastman. The techniques he showed without even transforming were of that level.

Yet, there was much to learn from what he showed and the way he fought, as if he was teaching, one step at a time.

What he displayed was true mastery.

The blade flew at unimaginable angles from incomprehensible movements.

The last was right before his eyes.

It was an opponent who drew back his sword after striking down.

Ragna's sword was a one-hit kill.

A blade meant to kill with certainty.

It was a perfect embodiment of the characteristics of the Middle Sword Technique.

Not all Knights are the same.

What is the experience that the Mercenary King spoke of?

Where does this difference begin?

'By honing what one possesses.'

If you believe the path you're on is right, then instead of looking back and pondering, you should take one more step forward.

The words of the King remained vividly in his memory. His teachings were clear.

At the moment of realization, Encrid knew with certainty.

Talent, the heavens, would not allow him what he desired.

'A genius among geniuses.'

One in ten thousand.

Among those gathered, only one was selected, that one becomes a Knight.

'So what?'

Would anything change because of that? No. It's the same as always. It has always been that way.

There was never any permission granted.

Even if the heavens, talent, or anyone else wouldn't allow it, what if you could find a way?

It was one of those ways. Encrid seemed to know it. He saw a clue. So he smiled, and because of that, his mouth spoke before his brain could catch up.

"Again."

His arm trembled. If he didn't brace his stomach, he felt like he would be pushed back. It was as if he was trying to withstand a storm that could uproot trees without even a staff to support himself.

It felt like he had climbed a glacial mountain without even a ragged blanket.

'That's not it.'

He did have a staff, and although it was just a rag, he had clothes wrapped around his body.

Encrid steadied his mind.

What he had accumulated so far was his clothing and staff.

For someone who denies what they've built and doesn't believe in themselves, there is no tomorrow.

So, the starting point was believing in himself.

The Mercenary King's words also held that meaning.

To walk the path you believe is right, to not ignore what you've built.

Encrid smiled as he looked at Ragna and asked with his eyes.

Do you think you can finish this with just one swing of your sword?

Ragna naturally assumed a stance. The black sword rose vertically from the ground, splitting the sun with its blade.

He intended to repeat the same move again.

An attack that couldn't be blocked even if you knew it was coming, a sword swing that recreated the exact feeling he had when he first saw the Knight of Aspen.

* * *

Ragna had swung his sword with as little force as possible, and this was the result.

The black lightning struck three times, and Encrid blocked it all three times. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he endured it.

The muscles in his right arm were nearly torn, and his left arm almost broke.

'That damned brute.'

Rem almost voiced his thoughts but stopped. Suddenly, his throat felt itchy, so he raised a hand to scratch it and couldn't utter his complaint.

'Even I…'

Even Rem agreed that it was hard to go easy when facing someone like Encrid.

Even as his arms trembled, he tried to grip his sword again. His body swayed as if he might collapse at any moment, but the fire in his eyes hadn't died.

Could anyone fight half-heartedly against someone who poured their very soul into battle?

Spenadul, that lazy bastard who smokes from his rear, had held back as best as he could.

If he had applied a little more force, Encrid's arms would have been shattered.

So, it was hard to curse him for being a brute.

"Haha, it seems our lazy brother has realized something remarkable."

Audin showed pure admiration. It wasn't common to witness swordsmanship at a Knight's level.

Even Audin himself couldn't perform such feats immediately, even if he removed his restraints.

He also needed time to adjust.

Or perhaps a period of rigorous training.

But it wasn't something unreachable.

Rem and Audin remained calm.

But the others didn't.

Encrid was surrounded by people brimming with talent.

Rem, Jaxon, and Audin were exceptional, but the others were also formidable.

Teresa, half-lidded eyes deep in thought, replayed what she had just witnessed multiple times.

It was like lightning. A black, unstoppable disaster, like an iron bolt crashing down.

'Could a shield block that?'

If there were an unbreakable shield, could the arm holding it withstand the force?

Even with her half-blood Giant body, she wondered if she could endure such a blow.

Teresa clenched her teeth hard, her jaw muscles tensing and leaving a long mark above her jawline.

As despair threatened to rise within her.

She noticed Encrid, who had collapsed unconscious after enduring it.

Seeing him, instead of despair and hopelessness, another emotion surged first.

'I can do it too.'

It was not just a refusal to lose but a determination not to give up.

Dunbachel and Lawford felt the same. Everyone had much to ponder.

Luagarne's eyes sparkled with tears.

"Why is that Frog crying?" 

Rem asked, noticing this.

"It seems emotions have overwhelmed her, our barbarian brother."

Audin's observation was correct. Luagarne felt something swelling in her chest.

She was so moved that she couldn't speak. The Frog's smooth fingers trembled.

'How is that even possible?'

She had witnessed Encrid's growth but also knew his talent was meager.

The talent of the Frog and the experiences Luagarne had accumulated constantly reminded her of Encrid's limitations.

And yet, he continued to move forward.

Luagarne saw something beyond a lack of envy.

It was the will to move forward, even without the heavens' permission, even without talent.

It shone brighter than a falling star and burned hotter than a blazing fire.

It was pure will.

'There was never any permission.'

Encrid's entire being seemed to convey this message, and he proved it with his actions.

Luagarne's lips parted.

"He will become a Knight."

The words seemed sudden, but no one objected.

The Mercenary King hadn't left something with Encrid out of mere confidence.

What he left was more of a gift, given because Encrid was someone who could carry a dream in his sword.

And now.

Frog, who always acknowledged reality and explored the unknown, felt a strong certainty that the reasons didn't matter.

That man would become a Knight.

Frog was moved, and everyone else was lost in thought.

So, the one who was most shocked among them was Pel.

'What is that?'

He had never considered the possibility of losing to anyone in terms of talent. Why would he?

He was a Shepherd of the Wilderness. Everyone there was a monster in their own right.

How many elders were there, chosen as Idol Slayers, whom even he couldn't overcome?

Yet, it was fine. He might be behind now, but he would catch up soon enough.

But witnessing what had just happened, his confidence started to erode. What he thought was a solid mountain now seemed like a flimsy pile of dirt scattered by the wind.

'Is my talent actually insignificant?'

Pel was so shocked that he couldn't move.

* * *

If your arms are in shambles, then you train your lower body.

"There's no time for rest, is there? That's a good stance. The quicker the blood flows through your body, the faster you'll recover."

If a healer trained in proper medicine had heard this, they would have called it madness.

When the body experiences an inflammatory response, the first priority should be rest, not pushing oneself further.

But there was no such healer here, and Audin's words weren't entirely wrong.

Encrid's body was not so weak as to be broken by such events.

Over time, thanks to the Isolation Technique and the Regenerative God, his body had become specialized in recovery.

It took seven days for his arms to fully heal.

Exactly one week later, Encrid gripped his sword and called out to Ragna.

"Stop being lazy and come out. Today, I'll fix all of your bad habits."

The directionally-challenged warrior, who had been swinging his sword more diligently than ever at the center of the training ground, turned his head and calmly responded.

"You could just say you want a normal spar, and I'd oblige."

Encrid felt a bit embarrassed and scratched his cheek as he replied.

"It's become a habit."

It was a habit formed from calling out Rem and the others. Such habits don't disappear in an instant.

Saying to Rem, "You mad barbarian bastard, come out, and I'll break your nose." was practically the same as requesting a sparring match.

"This time, I'll go this way."

Ragna spoke as he leveled his sword horizontally to the ground.

Whereas before he had struck vertically, this time he intended to swing horizontally.

If the previous blow had felt like a lightning strike, this one gave the impression of a collapsing wall.

Though it wasn't faster than before, there was nowhere to dodge. It felt like a massive boulder was rolling toward him.

It was as if Ragna was demonstrating what a Knight's strike should be.

This time, Encrid ended up with two fractured ribs.

But he didn't die.

A few days later, when the pain in his side had subsided and he had recovered, Sinar returned and noticed Encrid sweating in the training ground, showing a rare expression.

It was just a slight raise of her left eyebrow, but Encrid knew that was her way of showing surprise.

"You seem to have gone far."

"Did you miss me, beaten fiance?"

"Did you learn to add such adjectives from Audin?"

"I'm not at an age where I need to learn anything from anyone."

Encrid nodded and raised his sword.

He hadn't forgotten what Sinar had shown him when he had collapsed.

If it hadn't been for Ragna, he would have been waiting, day and night, unable to forget and wondering when she would come.

Sinar smiled as she listened to Naidil.

It was a smile that only Encrid got to see—a Fairy's smile.

But Encrid wasn't swayed by the enchanting spell of her otherworldly beauty.

As Sinar's smile faded, she closed the distance between them.

Bang!

Perhaps it was thanks to Ragna.

Her attack was slower than the black lightning and easier to block than the horizontal slash that came crashing down like a wall.

But her sword moved like a butterfly.

He blocked it, but it twisted and dropped down from above, and when he barely managed to block that, it circled back and stabbed him in the stomach.

It was a struggle to block and dodge her attacks.

Even though he wasn't off guard, an invisible blade aimed at the back of his head.

She struck from the front, yet a blade appeared simultaneously from behind?

It was a skill she had shown once before.

It was the secret swordsmanship of the Fairy tribe, crafted from the essence of the forest.

"There's nowhere to escape."

Sinar's voice reached him.

Encrid smiled again.

He had no intention of escaping.

In an instant, he twisted his body sideways, blocking the Fairy's Naidil with the Aker in his right hand, and drew his Gladius with his left hand to deflect the invisible blade.

With a faint sound, the invisible blade disappeared without resistance, but he couldn't completely block Naidil.

A few more similar attacks left several small cuts on him.

Of course, he lost, and this time he almost ended up with a hole in his thigh.

"If you'd struck just a little higher, you would've turned him into a new creature, neither man nor woman, for the rest of my life."

Rem, who had been watching, joked.

"I almost made a big mistake."

After the sparring match ended, Sinar showed a brief moment of regret.

"It's fine."

Encrid didn't mind.

What followed was a routine that was both ordinary and extraordinary.

One day, he would spar with Ragna.

On another day, he would spar with Sinar.

In the remaining time, he learned various techniques from Rem.

He also spent time with Audin and occasionally hung around Jaxon, who didn't seem busier than before.

"Silent Stab is not about knowing and not being able to block it, it's about not even realizing you've been stabbed."

It's not absolutely necessary to learn everything, but simply knowing a variety of techniques could be beneficial.

That was the reason behind learning and practicing all sorts of things.

The Fairy's blade was invisible, but it was caught in the net of his senses.

'Ultimately, is it about stabbing in a way that can neither be seen nor felt?'

It was an insight he had gained into the Fairy's secret technique, deduced purely by instinct.

He had come to this realization before Sinar could show him again.

Repeating such a day, repeating such training, was Encrid's strength.

He trained himself to write with his left hand, kept his senses sharp by dodging the daggers Jaxon threw at him.

Though today seemed monotonously repetitive, Encrid simply went on with it.

It wasn't difficult for him.

This is how he spent his time.

A ferryman appeared in Encrid's dream.

It wasn't that the ferryman had anything specific to say, rather, he seemed to be thinking of scolding Encrid, asking if he truly found joy in today's tedium, suggesting that if he did, he might as well have stayed in the comfort of a mundane life.

But Encrid was quicker to ask his question.

"When will the ominous event arrive?"

Those were the burning eyes he had seen several times. The world where the ferryman resided was a realm of the mind.

Such blazing eyes meant that the ferryman was speaking with his soul.

Encrid was asking with all his might, his desperation clear.

The ferryman couldn't tell him that the ominous event had already been dealt with by a cursed one who had died screaming.

Hadn't he already warned him to be cautious with a booming voice?

But Encrid, unaware, asked again.

"Has it now come right to my doorstep?"

The question sounded more like a desperate plea than a hopeful inquiry. The ferryman could not answer.

"Or will it be tomorrow?"

Encrid asked once more.

The ferryman silently cursed to himself.

'Persistent bastard.'

Unable to say anything that would diminish his dignity, the ferryman, who had communicated with Encrid, closed the world without uttering another word.

Encrid woke from the dream, having met a suddenly silent ferryman.

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