Chapter 397 - The Mark of Dawn

Chapter 397 - The Mark of Dawn

Enkrid tightened his grip on Silver.

At the same time, he thought.

The cavalry charging in, the flying spearhead.

The heart of the beast gave him courage, and a single point of focus made the opponent's movements appear as if they were severed.

His heightened sensitivity to hearing and vision naturally calculated the arrival of the spear.

And he struck.

Yet, something still gnawed at his mind.

'It's not enough.'

Something was lacking.

The movement ended in an instant, and he quickly realized what needed correction.

What if he had stepped forward a little more just now? If he had taken just half a step more, it would have been perfect. That would have made the transfer of force easier.

The difference in stride would change the way force was transferred.

Enkrid swung the sword, tightened his grip, and adjusted his position, moving exactly as he had thought.

He widened his stance. He corrected his posture. He swung the sword into the air.

Whoosh.

There was no need to swing it quickly. He only needed to feel the transfer of power at an appropriate speed.

The blade cut through the air, stopping exactly where he aimed.

Conclusion: this was correct. The difference in stride made the transfer of force much smoother. Enkrid understood it with his mind and engraved it into his body.

"Isn't anyone coming?"

He lifted his head.

Thousands of people had gathered. An army was watching.

Of course, Enkrid wasn't looking at the army. He was simply checking to see if his next opponent would appear.

Why aren't they coming?

He gazed with confusion.

This was the first battle and duel.

Though he couldn't see those lined up behind, the ones at the front saw everything.

Naturally, the enemy on the opposite side also saw it.

It would be normal not to rush in.

"One strike?"

Zalban's brow furrowed. He had two subordinates. The one who had just gone out was relatively less skilled, but still had the talent to not be easily overpowered by a squire of the knight order.

"Was he too careless? What a fool."

Another subordinate spoke and took a step forward.

"Wait."

Zalban raised his hand. The subordinate pulled the reins and stopped.

Zalban judged that the opponent's skills were not ordinary.

However, his subordinate had also been too careless. He wasn't someone who could be taken down by a single blow. After a brief contemplation, he decided:

"I'll go. Binyu, follow and back me up."

Jalban wasn't alone; he took a subordinate with him.

It was key to make it seem like he was leading, while his subordinate trailed a few steps behind to provide support.

His subordinate's specialty was throwing spears.

One well-timed assist would be enough.

Even if someone from the enemy ranks came to assist, it wouldn't change the outcome.

There weren't many who could throw spears with such deadly accuracy.

"Let's go."

Hee-ing.

Jalban spurred his horse forward, with his subordinate following closely behind.

The guild master who was with Enkrid's group was so shocked that he stood there with his mouth agape. Then, when two figures emerged from the enemy's ranks, he finally spoke.

"Shouldn't someone from our side step forward?"

He said, directed at Rem or Ragna.

"Ha, not even close," Rem responded with a yawn.

After seeing Enkrid skills develop in the month before, there was no cause for concern.

Ragna, meanwhile, had grabbed an apple from somewhere and was biting into it enthusiastically.

She seemed to be eating it with such vigor that he might even eat the seeds.

Jaxen said nothing. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes closed. The guild master couldn't tell what he was thinking.

'These people…'

Were they not sending anyone from the main army?

He turned his gaze to the main force. It was silent. No, there was a subtle commotion, but it didn't seem like they were about to charge.

In fact, they too were simply watching.

After Ingis left, Marcus had taken command of the kingdom's forces.

His palms were sweating. If they lost this duel and skirmish, they would lose in the full-scale battle as well.

If they lost momentum here, there was no way to recover.

The enemy's strength was simply superior.

'This is hell.'

That was his first thought upon hearing the enemy's main force numbers.

After seeing their training levels, even Marcus's determination was wavering when Enkrid suddenly stepped forward.

It was an unexpected turn, an unanticipated event.

Marcus hadn't seen Enkrid fight in a long time, so it came as a surprise.

'So that's what he was like?'

The enemy consisted of five deadly weapons cultivated by a count.

Even their subordinates weren't ordinary fighters.

Yet, one blow had severed the waist of one of them.

It wasn't luck or a mere opening; Enkrid had stood directly in front of him, overpowering him with superior strength and speed.

Marcus recognized that immediately.

After a moment of thought, he pondered his situation. He was hanging by a thread, on the edge of a precipice.

It was like choosing solid ground in a swamp.

Either option was equally precarious.

A single wrong move and everything could collapse. That was the level of caution he now felt.

"Should I send reinforcements?"

Rather than deciding alone, he turned to the knight Aishia beside him and asked.

"Just watch."

Aishia responded with a gruff tone and thought to herself.

'I should be the one stepping up.'

She had given no signal or indication, and Enkrid had gone out alone to fight.

'If I told them to cancel and come back to fight me, it would sound ridiculous.'

For a moment, she imagined walking out in front of the enemy to call for a reset, but of course, it was absurd.

More than that, if Enkrid hadn't stepped forward, they might have lost without even starting.

By using reconnaissance, they already had a good understanding of the enemy's strength. But what they missed was the level of training and the quality of their equipment.

The Count's army was solid as a rock.

The difference in power was staggering.

It was no surprise that her body froze for a moment after seeing that. The more experience one had, the more natural it was to react that way.

So, what about Enkrid? Did he not realize this?

No, he knew exactly what he was doing. He stepped forward without hesitation, taking responsibility for initiating the fight.

Aishia silently acknowledged her defeat.

Not just in skill, but in heart as well.

'What a guy.'

She thought to herself, watching him.

Far off, Enkrid could be seen stepping out to fight.

He was the one who had proudly claimed his dream of being a knight, the one who had nearly shattered his own face in the process.

And the one who had saved her life.

"Ah, go ahead. Kill them all."

Aishia muttered, her heart unknowingly voicing its thoughts.

In the center of the battlefield, as both armies watched, a battle cry rang out.

"Ki-yah!"

One of the five deadly weapons.

Zalban, who wielded two spears, charged forward. Aishia saw it too.

Dust swirled before Enkrid's eyes. Drops of blood splattered onto the grass, forming small round stains.

It was about ten steps away. The man who had arrived on horseback suddenly leapt off.

The moment his feet hit the ground, the dust from his landing became visible like grains of sand.

The grass swayed in the wind. The rustling sound could be heard, like the grass greeting each other.

***

The weight of the sword in his hand was felt. The sensation and weight of his armor and clothes brushing against his body were also present.

'It's the right weight.'

He had named the sword Silver, and today, its weight seemed particularly satisfying.

Looking at the blade, he noticed a small nick. It might be a good idea to sharpen it with a whetstone.

"Confident in your skills to have come this far? What's your name?"

The approaching opponent asked. Enkrid did not answer. He simply enjoyed the sensations of everything around him as he relied on his instincts.

The wind brushed against his cheek. The sunlight pressed down on his helmet. Ah, this is a little disappointing.

Enkrid took off his helmet.

Now, the sunlight and the breeze felt even closer than before.

The vast plain offered no hills or cover to hide behind. In other words, it was a perfect place for the wind to play.

The Naurilia plains were once called the land of winds in ancient times.

The wind raced across the vast land that offered no resistance, an unstoppable dash.

Whooooosh!

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew.

Zalban instinctively tightened his grip on his spear.

Enkrid relaxed his body, allowing the wind to flow over him, wrapping him up before dispersing.

Zalban frowned. Wasn't the opponent's body slightly lifted off the ground just now? Or was it just an illusion?

He wanted to rub his eyes.

But on the contrary, he couldn't take his eyes off for a moment.

If his focus wavered even a little, the opponent's blade would pierce his stomach.

The man who went first would not have lasted even a few exchanges, despite not being careless. Up close, Zalban was certain of it.

'It's real.'

The opponent's skill was superior to his own.

Zalban tightened his grip on the spear. Veins popped up on the back of his hand.

He steeled himself and began to visualize the battle in his mind.

'I'll block with my left hand.'

While thinking, Zalban's gaze shifted to Enkrid's waist. There were two more swords. A belt for holding throwing knives was clearly visible on his chest.

Three swords. He hadn't just brought them for no reason.

Then, the other weapons must also be put to use.

As he carefully observed, Zalban noticed a hidden knife around the opponent's ankle.

The man was standing with his arm hanging loosely, as if blown by the wind.

'Again.'

Zalban rewound the fight in his mind from the beginning. What if he blocks with his left hand and then strikes with his spear faster than anyone else with his right?

'No, again.'

Sweat started to bead on Zalban's forehead. That was a sign of mental fatigue.

He once again visualized the battle.

'I'll strike with my left hand, forcing a defense from him.'

Then, he would twist the handle of the spear in his right hand. That's the plan. Use every trick prepared. That's the right approach.

His eyes felt stinging. It felt as though he were trapped in a prison where even blinking was forbidden. Yet, Zalban endured the pressure skillfully. He, too, was a warrior who had crossed the river of death countless times.

This level of pressure was nothing new.

'I'll kill him.'

If he moved, his subordinates would throw javelins like his own limbs.

'I can't stop that.'

A javelin would fly from outside his vision during the fight. The person throwing it had excellent skill.

The officer was as capable as any squire in a fight.

Based on his skill in throwing javelins, he could be considered a junior knight.

A drop of sweat fell to the ground.

The opponent blinked once. Zalban flinched, his shoulder twitching.

Is he? Despite being so focused, is he letting his guard down? Blinking his eyes like that? For a moment, Zalban almost leapt forward.

'Feigning an attack?'

Is it a feint? It must be. The moment he judged this, Zalban pushed his feet forward.

He began to close the ten-pace gap, cautiously advancing.

Enkrid observed the approaching opponent, but also saw beyond him.

Everything was neatly visible, and the sensations of his body remained the same.

Suddenly, his vision opened up, and the surroundings came into view.

First, there was someone sneaking around behind, preparing to interfere if necessary. The spear stuck in his back was an obvious warning.

Naturally, he noticed the approaching opponent. He seemed slow in his approach, and that was frustrating.

At the same time, a thought crossed his mind.

'If I lose here, the consequences will be severe.'

He could already predict the result.

The opponent's forces were superior. In numbers and training, they outclassed him.

The Count had prepared thoroughly.

Still, Enkrid felt it would be fine.

Wars on the continent were determined by a few elite individuals. A knight's strength could change the course of a battlefield.

The first knights, back in ancient times, had changed the meaning of the title by passing it down through generations.

Knights altered the shape of battle.

Enkrid was here because he wanted to change something.

'I will change it.'

Why did he want to become a knight?

'To protect and preserve.'

To fight for what he believed was right and protect the people behind him.

From the moment he grasped his sword, that was the life he desired.

The lyrics of a bard had etched themselves into his heart, becoming his guiding light.

Thus, he walked and walked until now.

In the faded and torn dream, the first light of dawn left traces.

Ignoring his opponent's steps, Enkrid boldly moved forward.

His steps were heavy, but there was no rush to them.

The sword in his hand swayed with his arm, and the blade followed his movement.

The distance between the two closed to within five steps. Zalban dug his feet into the ground.

"Kiiit!"

He thrust his spear forward with his left hand.

Enkrid held Silver and blocked diagonally in front of his chest, twisting his wrist.

Striking softly didn't make the blade turn into cotton.

As the blade met the spear's tip, the force was redirected. The sword flowed around the spear's strength, continuing its motion.

Zalban's eyes were visible. Brown, bloodshot eyes. Had he been dry today? Why was his gaze so intense?

Distractions crept in. The opponent raised his right hand and thrust.

But it didn't reach him. Still, it was a feint to thrust forward.

Bang!

With a loud noise, the spear's tip was shot forward. It was a weapon with a special mechanism.

Enkrid didn't push the sword away but pulled it back instead.

Thud!

It happened so fast, but in reality, it was a very brief moment.

Zalban thrust with his left hand, shot the spear from his right hand, and two metallic sounds rang out.

Right after that, there was a sound of flesh being pierced.

Thwack!

Enkrid blocked twice and struck once, all with the sword in his right hand.

His third strike grazed the opponent's chest.

Zalban was wearing several layers of leather, and beneath them, thick padded armor, but Enkrid's sword sliced through all of them, leaving a mark on his muscle and flesh.

Exactly where the heart was.

The veins in Zalban's bloodshot eyes thickened.

"Cough!"

He coughed up blood, stumbling back a few steps before falling to his knees.

"Hah!"

The person behind finally threw a javelin. The javelin aimed for Enkrid's face.

The rush of air hit his face first.

Enkrid brought his sword down.

Thud!

The javelin was caught by the sword's trajectory and deflected off to the side, rolling on the ground.

The officer, preparing to throw a second javelin, froze.

It was obvious that the outcome would be no different, so his body instinctively stiffened.

In the end, Enkrid swung his sword in his right hand for the fourth time, finishing the fight.

Zalban watched as the ground came closer. The world turned red. He thought to himself:

'There was a skill gap from the start.'

The opponent's level was different. Even with his two attacks, one of which had been a spear thrown unexpectedly, it had been easily blocked.

How had this happened?

The answer was simple.

Enkrid struck faster and more accurately than him. His accumulated experience was far superior.

That was Zalban's conclusion.

Enkrid wiped the blade in the air.

By then, the man who had thrown the javelin was neither coming to fight nor fleeing.

He could only roll his eyes.

"Not going to fight?"

Enkrid asked calmly and indifferently, neither urging nor rebuking, just inquiring as if asking about his intention.

A strange atmosphere filled the air, and the javelin-throwing man's hand tightened around his spear as he reconsidered.

"You crazy bastard!"

One of the enemy soldiers, more impatient than the others, suddenly charged forward. He yanked on the reins and jumped out.

Thud, thud, thud!

The one who seemed ready to charge stopped about twenty steps away and drew a short bow, pulling the string back. His skill was impressive.

A mounted archer was not a common sight.

As he narrowed the distance, the arrow would fly as fast as light.

Enkrid, seeing the opponent charge and shoot the arrow, flicked his left hand.

Of course, it was imbued with Will.

He drew his sword

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