Chapter 421 - Something Ominous  is Coming

Chapter 421 - Something Ominous is Coming

"Something ominous is coming."

The violet lamp, a boat floating on a dark river, and the ferryman—this dreamscape was as familiar to Enkrid as the back of his hand.

He sat at the edge of the boat, pondering whether it was appropriate to cross his legs. The ferryman's gaze turned toward him before he could decide.

"I can say no more."

The ferryman's response was as capricious as ever. Enkrid regarded him with the exasperated look reserved for someone whose personality seemed to change each time they met, shifting tone and words as whims dictated.

Still, dealing with erratic individuals was not something that troubled Enkrid. His extensive experience traversing the continent in pursuit of swordsmanship had hardened him to such peculiarities. Warriors, mercenaries, nobles' guards, caravan swordsmen, fencing instructors—he had encountered countless eccentric and idiosyncratic people in his journey.

And among them, none were as unique as the soldiers under his current command.

When it came to handling erratic personalities, the ferryman's quirks might even pale in comparison to someone like Rem. Enkrid knew not to react too much.

"I see."

He acknowledged the ferryman's words, taking a moment before asking, "How do you know this ominous feeling is approaching?"

The ferryman remained silent, his eyes fixed on Enkrid. True to his word, he said nothing more.

Suddenly, the world turned dark.

When Enkrid opened his eyes, it was morning. The summer sun had risen early, illuminating the world even as he began his practice of the Isolation Technique.

Enkrid returned to his usual training routine, his mind briefly reflecting on Jaxen, who had been distant and contemplative since their sparring match. After showing unexpected friendliness to the soldiers, Jaxen had reverted to his stoic self, now away on some errand. Enkrid regretted not getting another chance to spar with him.

"Good morning, brother," Audin greeted as he approached. Following him were Teresa, Dunbakel, Ropord, and Fel.

"Starting the day hard, I see," Fel remarked dryly. It was clear this was not for show—Enkrid's rigorous training was purely for himself.

"When will you step up?" Enkrid asked, undeterred.

"Not yet," Fel replied, knowing full well he'd lose.

Still, watching Enkrid train stirred something in Fel—a primal, almost instinctual desire to compete. Though reluctant to challenge him outright, Fel couldn't deny the man had a way of igniting one's fighting spirit.

Shrugging off the thought, Enkrid turned to Audin, pushing his body to the limits alongside him. Starting with striking techniques, they shifted into positions that stretched their muscles to the breaking point.

"Muscles that lack flexibility are just useless lumps of flesh," Audin instructed, guiding the session.

Nearby, Teresa helped Ropord with his training, while Dunbakel, drenched in sweat, tried to keep up with Enkrid's drills.

After the strange dream, the morning passed as usual. Their routine was soon to be interrupted by the myriad tasks waiting for Enkrid.

It had been two weeks since returning to Border Guard. Days were beginning to feel familiar, even the quirks of being addressed as "General" by the battalion commander.

Though the workload was heavy, Krais had taken on much of it with vigor, leaving Enkrid relatively free.

"Standardizing the soldiers' equipment might be a good start," Krais suggested. "We can then divide them into different units for specialized training."

Training, security, diplomacy, and even finance—Krais handled it all.

"Rockfreed's guild wants to open branches in nearby cities. Should I approve it? Leona might sulk if we don't."

"Go ahead," Enkrid replied, barely needing to intervene.

"Your meals—are you eating properly?" Enkrid asked as he toweled off sweat, his training weapon—a steel sword weighing five times the norm—still in hand.

"Pardon?" Krais looked up.

"You seem busy."

"Moderately so."

"Should I raise your pay?"

"It's already at its limit. Any more, and I'd earn more than the lord of Border Guard."

At least he wasn't the type to neglect his own pockets, Enkrid thought, nodding in approval.

Krais wasn't merely delegating tasks—he was pulling resources from everywhere, bringing in capable individuals like Gilpin and leveraging Rockfreed's expertise to handle the numbers.

Enkrid was content to let him manage. Truth be told, even he couldn't handle the logistics at this level. Instead, Enkrid focused on specific details, such as soldiers' armaments.

"Divide them into spearmen, swordsmen, and shield-bearers. Train them in the basics of all weaponry, but standardize their equipment as follows…"

For swordsmen, the kit included a longsword, a dagger, a compact wrist-mounted crossbow, padded leather armor reinforced with oiled flax, leather gauntlets and greaves, three throwing knives, a hand axe, a kite shield, a cloth-lined leather helm, and a short cudgel.

The hand crossbow was a weapon Enkrid had developed, inspired by something he had once seen used by bandits.

Spearmen and archers were similar in terms of secondary weapons.

"Isn't it pure torture to strap on even a single extra pack when you're already fully armed?"

Krais thought this as he glanced at his commander, who promptly answered.

"If someone can't handle this, send them home."

There had been a time when the Border Guard's standing army was so short on numbers that anyone willing was immediately accepted and sent to the battlefield with little preparation.

That was no longer the case.

"Rather than a large army, we need a small force of elites."

Krais agreed with that sentiment. The ideas they discussed now were all meant to improve the combat effectiveness of their soldiers.

Although an office had been set up, Enkrid rarely used it, preferring to discuss matters in a training yard. Decisions made there would determine the future of the troops.

Infantry, spearmen, archers, shield-bearers, cavalry, mounted archers—

Enkrid laid out the big picture, and Krais contributed his insights.

"Since we're at it, why not gather some of the better soldiers and restructure the unit? You know we can't remain as just the Independent Unit forever, right?"

A nod.

Enkrid passed on the decision they had reached to Rem.

"Rem, pick out some promising men and form a new unit."

It would become an assault force, suited for breaking through and tearing apart enemy lines when war broke out.

"Hmm? Are you serious about that?"

Enkrid hesitated for a moment. The goal was to build a unit, not to break the soldiers in half.

"I said form a unit, not torment them."

"I'll give it my best shot."

Rem stood up as he spoke.

"Don't try too hard."

Enkrid, feeling a bit of pity for the soldiers, added that comment.

He gave Ragna the same task.

"It's too much trouble."

"Cavalry or infantry, either works."

"Still too much trouble."

After returning from the palace, Ragna had thrown himself into training for a few days but soon reverted to his usual lazy self, dozing off and loafing around the barracks.

Ropord often dragged him out to the training grounds, but Ragna quickly returned to his idleness afterward.

Despite Ragna's threats and occasional beatings, Ropord was fearless, repeatedly asking for sparring sessions.

"If you keep annoying me, I might just chop off an arm."

"I'll train hard to avoid that!"

Ropord was unrelenting, showing a spirit that, at least outwardly, seemed exceptional.

While Ragna was the type to follow through on his threats, Enkrid was fairly certain he wouldn't go as far as to actually cut off a limb—probably.

Even so, Enkrid felt compelled to give a warning.

"Don't cut anything off."

"We'll see."

The uneasy response left Enkrid conflicted, but assigning Ropord to Ragna did bring some peace of mind. Ropord, having trained in a knightly order, was more adept at organizing and educating soldiers.

Dunbakel was assigned to Rem. Enkrid figured if Rem spent his energy pestering her, he'd be less likely to torment the recruits.

Audin was on board with his new role.

"Of course, brother."

Enkrid, wary of Audin's enthusiasm, assigned Teresa to keep an eye on him.

He was confident this would suffice for creating elite troops. There wasn't a need for overwhelming numbers.

Enkrid wasn't one to shy away from responsibility. He carried out his duties without skimping on training or personal discipline. Thanks to Krais's efficiency, he didn't have to sacrifice additional training time.

"Let's take a look at the training. Do it as you always do."

Luagarne had officially joined under Enkrid's command, following approval from the palace. Since then, she had stuck to him like a duckling following its mother.

During her time with the Gilpin Guild, she had crossed paths with a local Frog, Maelrun, while pummeling troublemakers in the city. Their interaction was indifferent, as if neither cared for the other's existence.

When asked about it, she explained:

"He's a Frog."

"So what?"

"They're living their desires, and their desires don't concern me."

It was a typical Frog perspective, focused solely on their interests. That Luagarne was so well-versed in various matters was unusual; her curiosity leaned toward academic pursuits.

"What do you think is the essence of a formal sword style?"

Luagarne was incredibly helpful, especially when it came to teaching concepts. Being a skilled sparring partner didn't necessarily make one a good teacher. Looking at Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen made that clear enough. They were all terrible at instructing others despite their talents.

In contrast, Luagarne excelled as an educator.

"Precision?"

"Hints and feints."

Her point was simple: the goal was to control the opponent's movements with subtle cues, not necessarily by swinging the sword.

"Swinging a sword is merely the confirmation of intent."

"And what about Rem countering instantly during sparring?"

"That axe of his is monstrous."

Luagarne's perceptive eyes evaluated talent, and to her, Rem was a monster.

"What about Ragna?"

"That bastard's a sword-wielding monster."

"And Audin?"

"His body is monstrous."

"Jaxen?"

"A scheming monster?"

Her vocabulary wasn't particularly sophisticated, but Enkrid found himself agreeing with her assessments.

"And me?"

"You're an incomprehensible monster."

"Am I, now?"

Shinar occasionally stepped in as a sparring partner, showing techniques so chilling that it was hard to believe she wasn't holding back. It felt as if she was deliberately moderating her skills.

"What, did you expect to beat me easily, fiancé?"

"I think it's time you came up with a different title for me."

"General fiancé?"

"Let's not change it."

***

Krais, observing Enkrid's actions, deduced his intentions.

"Preparing for war?"

"Probably."

"Against Aspen?"

"Likely."

Though Enkrid gave vague answers, Krais seemed to grasp the situation fully. He was impossible to read, with a mind that seemed to understand everything.

Even in the midst of these days, the Ferryman visited Enkrid in his dreams.

"Dread approaches."

Hearing the same phrase for the fifteenth night, Enkrid wondered if the Ferryman wanted him to say he was tired of it. After all, Enkrid often called the Ferryman a wretched and tiresome figure.

But he didn't truly feel that way.

"Any idea how close it is?"

"I cannot tell."

He was merely curious. If the Ferryman mentioned it, it had to be significant. Yet even the Ferryman couldn't pinpoint the nature of the looming threat.

Repetitive events allowed glimpses into fixed futures, but the unknown was beyond even divine comprehension.

The Ferryman mused.

"Even the cycles of today change."

And this man standing before him was the proof. That was the price.

"Dread draws near."

The Ferryman offered his counsel.

"Yes, I look forward to it."

Watching the cursed man respond so nonchalantly, the Ferryman felt a slight, fleeting annoyance but didn't withdraw his advice.

"The dread is close."

"Is that so?"

Enkrid remained as composed as ever.

"Take it seriously, fool, who walks the mortal path toward inevitable ruin."

"Yes, I'm serious."

Despite the words, Enkrid's demeanor brimmed with anticipation, which deeply unsettled the Ferryman.

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