Chapter 455 - Earning Trust Through Action

Chapter 455 - Earning Trust Through Action

A knight's strike.

That was all Enkrid desired.

What must he do to achieve it?

Uncertain, he sought answers.

"Moving Will? I mean, isn't it just something you do?"

That was Rem's response.

Enkrid came to a fresh realization that the insane bastard who had a penchant for cutting off nobles' heads was, in fact, a genius.

"Oh, so Will can be used that way, huh?"

Luagarne, adopting the role of a scholar, began her own research. Her insights proved invaluable later on.

"What about breaking it down step by step?"

Dissect the movements. Infuse Will into every motion of drawing and thrusting the sword. Approach even the preparation phase differently, she suggested.

Enkrid reframed his questions and sought advice. He kept asking Roman as well.

One day, even while staying by Oara's side, he asked.

"What kind of answer am I supposed to give when it just... works?"

Oara's answer was much like Rem's. Ragna would likely say the same, as would Audin. Jaxen wouldn't be much different either.

"Just do it."

Ragna would respond while swinging his sword.

"Just pray; it'll work."

Audin would declare.

"You'll feel it through instinct."

Jaxen might say something like that.

It felt as though he was hearing advice from afar, as though they were back in Border Guard.

Prayer might not be the solution, but meditation could be.

Swinging recklessly wouldn't suffice, but neither should naturalness be neglected.

Could sensitive senses allow one to feel Will?

Not exactly, but they could reveal how a movement differs from the ordinary.

When a student surpasses their teachers, such feats become possible.

For the first time in his life, Enkrid experienced the process of hearing one thing and understanding two.

Anyone aware of his humble beginnings would be astounded, though for now, no one knew.

Not even Rem, who observed from nearby, could fully grasp it.

Upper horizontal slash, side glance cut, overhead slash, counterstrike, half-sword fighting, parrying, deflecting, chained strikes, weaving, drawing and slicing.

He reviewed his techniques and pulled one to the forefront.

"Thrust."

He decided to follow where his instincts led.

Enkrid focused entirely on the act of thrusting the sword. He gripped Spark and struck forward. The lessons he had gained through repetition and today's insights into Will coalesced in that motion.

"Should I separate it?"

No, it must remain unified.

"From the toes."

Stepping forward and thrusting the sword—just that.

What would it take to render such a move unstoppable?

"Speed and power."

These were realms beyond imitation.

Refinement of speed—a focus on precision and swiftness.

He repeated it. Time passed. He poured his days into it. The sands of his personal hourglass trickled away.

Ordinarily, such effort might have driven him to madness, left him a broken shell.

These were hours fit for despair and lamentation.

Moments to curse the trials he faced and cry out for respite.

Times to blame the gods or the unknown parents who bore him.

Instead, he spent every second on training, ignoring even the screams of Oara.

"You seem to delight in their deaths."

The Ferryman mocked him.

He ignored it.

Soldiers perished. Milio fell. Rowena was lost.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

The Ferryman pressed. Enkrid gave no answer, thinking only of his sword.

"You'll never surpass this wall."

The Ferryman declared with certainty.

Enkrid didn't hear it, nor did he care to.

"You'll regret this, pounding the ground in frustration. Some things never change."

Even as the Ferryman's words grew laden with concern, Enkrid dismissed them.

"You've got too many scattered techniques."

Oara's advice was clear: consolidate. Enkrid's body naturally combined everything into one.

Was this the path to knighthood?

Or was it the wrong road?

Perhaps merely a desperate struggle?

A waste of time?

Doubt could have consumed him, yet Enkrid walked forward, undeterred.

And so came today.

A piercing scream broke the silence.

Enkrid, without so much as wiping the sleep from his eyes, told Rem to follow him and grabbed his sword.

"Block this."

Without warning, he lunged. Rem reflexively moved his axe.

He saw the point surpassing speed and barely managed to intercept it.

Clang!

The sword's tip met the axe's surface and rebounded.

"Damn it, were you trying to put a hole in my axe?"

Had Enkrid gone all out, the axe might have cracked. He clenched and unclenched his hand several times.

Was this a move he could only perform once?

Even with a body hardened through isolation techniques, his ankle, waist, and shoulder all ached from that single thrust.

His muscles screamed, but he didn't care.

"Let's go."

Enkrid headed for the battlefield.

In his mind, the day's practice replayed endlessly.

It was just the beginning.

"Dunbakel."

The beast-woman approached, looking unusually uneasy.

Her face was grimy, unwashed, and reeked of sweat.

Enkrid whispered.

"Did I ever tell you?"

"...Tell me what?"

Startled by his sudden friendliness, Dunbakel grew wary.

Her instincts as a beastkin screamed that this man was up to something.

"I trust you."

"..."

A dog's bark broke the silence, and Dunbakel blinked.

"You're the prettiest beast-woman I've ever seen."

Enkrid could count the number of beast-women he'd encountered on one hand. Dunbakel was the only one he'd truly looked at closely.

Still, it was an out-of-the-blue remark.

"What?"

"You're strong."

"Rem, is he feeling alright?"

"I've always thought your potential surpasses mine."

This was the truth. Enkrid was acutely aware of his own meager talent.

"No fever."

Dunbakel brushed her hand against his forehead.

"So, it's fine to run away."

There's a saying that flattery can make even a dragon dance.

Even self-centered beastkin aren't immune to kind words.

Enkrid didn't want to see Dunbakel reduced to a terrified kitten.

"Run if you must, but fight until then. Do what you can."

Dunbakel froze.

Did he understand what he was asking?

All she wanted was to survive, and that desire weighed heavily on her.

"Is mere survival enough?"

Beastkin are creatures of survival, but Dunbakel was more so.

She could do anything to live.

Yet deep down, she knew survival alone wasn't enough.

"What do I want to become beyond surviving?"

Enkrid's words brought her to a halt. As others moved forward, she stood lost in thought.

Not for long.

Before the others had taken three steps, she had reached her decision.

"Why am I here?"

She threw a stone of inquiry into the lake of her being.

The ripples formed and spread.

Before they subsided, clarity emerged—a revelation.

"Proof."

She wanted to prove she wasn't a failure born of beastkin, that she could live well without her parents' love.

She had always denied herself, and perhaps that's why she envied Enkrid, who strode forward resolutely.

Not that his journey was easy.

"Ah."

With a small exclamation, Dunbakel moved again.

She had decided on her task. The fear that had gripped her lightened, even if only a little.

A single spark of resolve couldn't overcome everything, but a guiding star could illuminate the path.

As Enkrid strode ahead, Dunbakel, too, saw where her steps would lead.

"Rowena is..."

"If you're going to save her, come along."

Enkrid cut through the commotion at the gates.

"...Pardon?"

Rowena's lover stared at Enkrid, momentarily dumbfounded. But as realization dawned, the soldier moved.

"You're coming with me?"

"Your name?"

Until now, Enkrid hadn't known this soldier's name.

"Admor here."

"Alright, let's go."

Enkrid knew he had to make his intent resonate with everyone.

It reminded him of the time he persuaded Andrew back during his squad leader days in the Tall grass Fields.

Back then, he had started by proving his skills. Now, that wasn't necessary.

"Aishia!"

At his shout, Aishia emerged from one side, draped in her cloak and armor.

The knights' cloaks were said to be flame-resistant and enchanted to retain body heat when wrapped tightly. They also provided protection against simple spells, a symbol of the order itself.

It wasn't cumbersome attire but practical and efficient.

"What?"

"Have I ever mentioned this?"

Speaking just loud enough for everyone to hear, Enkrid felt the soldiers' gazes converge on him.

Not just them—Oara and the group of junior knights and squires at the forefront were also listening.

"...Mentioned what?"

Aishia found his behavior peculiar. This was a man prone to eccentricities, and now he was deliberately drawing attention.

Enkrid noticed her reaction but ignored it. There was no time to address every detail.

"That I was once a famous monster hunter."

That was a lie.

He had been a monster hunter, yes, but never a famous one.

"Is that so?"

"I've got a feeling."

"What kind of feeling?"

"There's a snake coiled deep inside there."

Aishia turned her gaze to where Enkrid indicated.

It was true that the sinister air of the labyrinth was palpable, prickling her skin, but she couldn't sense anything specific.

"What are you talking about?"

From atop the wall, Oara asked.

"The air has changed. One of my beastkin underlings even caught a scent. It's not just the screaming spiders—there's a stench of conspiracy coming from deeper inside the labyrinth."

"Me?"

From the side, Dunbakel pointed to herself with a finger. Rem slyly nudged her forward and said,

"Shut up and watch."

It seemed their captain had a plan brewing.

What it was, no one could tell.

"Probably something amusing," Rem thought.

Enkrid was not the type to act recklessly without reason. Rem had faith in that.

"Rem, Dunbakel, head out quickly."

Enkrid looked at Rem as he spoke.

"And where exactly am I going?"

"Over there."

Enkrid pointed deeper into the labyrinth.

Admor, who had come out to rescue Rowena, fidgeted nervously, unsure what to do.

"Into the labyrinth?"

"Afraid?"

"Is that supposed to be provocation?"

"No, just asking."

"Damn it, I don't know what's there, but fine. I'll go."

"Be quick and come back safely."

Enkrid's instruction left no room for objection.

Rem could have questioned him.

For example:

"You're sending me into the unknown without any idea of what's in there. What are you thinking?"

It was a frustrating order.

And Enkrid might have responded with,

"Just go and find out."

Or perhaps, "Call it instinct."

Enkrid had no specific answers prepared.

"Fine."

Rem nodded, accepting.

Enkrid then told Admor to follow Rem.

"Look for traces. You'll find what you're trying to save."

With no other choice, Admor hurriedly trailed after Rem.

As Rem departed, Enkrid's gaze lingered on his back.

In the past, during his wandering days across the continent, no one would have heeded his words.

Back when he led a rowdy squad, he had relied on force in similar situations.

It reminded him of Andrew—times when brute strength was necessary to earn compliance.

But now?

All he had to do was trade trust for action.

Enkrid had spent enough time with Rem to know how he would react.

"Let's go, Aishia."

"And where am I going?"

Eysia, standing nearby, was utterly perplexed.

"Lead the squires into battle."

Enkrid's tone was firm.

"Now? Me? Out there?"

"Aishia of the Red Cloak Knights, will you stand idly by while the Thousand Stone fall into danger? Do you intend to keep wearing that red cloak after doing so?"

At the sudden rebuke, Aishia glared daggers at him.

"Are you picking a fight?"

"No, cheering you on."

In the end, she relented. Aishia couldn't refuse the words of the man who had given her so much.

He was the one who had enabled her to wear the red cloak to begin with.

During the civil war, she had incurred debts she felt she could never repay—massive debts.

For that reason alone, she had no excuse not to listen to him now.

Enkrid killed six spider monsters that had been rampaging in front of four squires before stomping on the ground with his foot.

The heavy thud drew everyone's attention, including Roman and Oara.

"No one surpasses me in hunting monsters. From now on, I'll lead the frontlines."

"…Did the drink you had earlier go bad?"

Roman muttered under his breath.

Enkrid ignored him. He had used trust to buy action, but now it was time to use action to earn trust.

"Burrow spiders. On the ground."

The countless repetitions of today allowed Enkrid to stay ahead of the game. By acting within predictable patterns, he could anticipate the enemy's moves.

Rumble.

The dirt floor shook before a spider's head burst through.

"Oliver, hit it!"

It didn't matter whose order it was. Oliver reflexively slammed his mace down.

Crack!

The spider's head burst, spraying black ichor.

"Roman, under your feet."

Before Enkrid's words even finished, dust began to stir beneath Roman's feet.

Whether from the sky or underground, no one here would fall victim to a sudden attack.

Naturally, smashing in the heads of spiders that emerged cluelessly into the open was no challenge.

Crunch!

Roman's greatsword crashed down, splitting another spider's skull.

Following Enkrid's predictions, spiders emerged, their formations pressing forward as reinforcements arrived.

The rear gate began to creak open.

"Close the gate! Hold the line with those stationed at the front! Archers, aim only beyond us!"

Enkrid's voice was calm at first, but it rose to a commanding shout by the end.

This uncharacteristic intensity drew even Oara's attention.

From her vantage point on the wall, she nodded with interest.

It was evident even at a glance.

His words and gestures carried conviction. If things went awry, she could intervene later. For now, his judgment didn't seem flawed.

Enkrid moved as planned.

He bought action with trust.

And earned trust through action.

What came next?

It was time to fight like hell.

-------------------------

In order to get more chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi!

www.ko-fi.com/samowek

Please support my work ;)