Chapter 136 - No Day Is the Same

Chapter 136 - No Day Is the Same

Enkrid felt a sense of relief as he stepped out of the battalion commander's tent.

The commander's expression hadn't looked particularly pleased, but for Enkrid, even that was a novel experience.

A knight… talking about dreams.

Not a reaction of mockery or disbelief—just listening.

That alone was refreshing.

But that wasn't what mattered.

He had said his piece, and he had refused.

Now, it was time to get back to what he had been doing.

Returning to his barracks, Enkrid stood in front of Rem.

"What?"

"We continue."

He meant the training.

It was something he had started, so he would see it through.

It wasn't anything special.

Watching his leader, Rem couldn't help but think: This guy really is crazy.

Was this normal?

Even he, who was teaching, understood just how nothing—absolutely nothing—could be felt through this training.

And yet, Enkrid wanted to continue.

He never showed signs of boredom, never grew weary.

The idea of him struggling with frustration or despair was unimaginable.

A man completely detached from things like dejection, hopelessness, or suffering.

Still, Rem was a little curious and asked,

"You don't get tired of it?"

"Hm?"

Seeing Enkrid's eyes asking what that even meant, Rem had nothing more to say.

Fine.

Sure.

Of course, he'd do it.

He was planning to anyway.

"Let's get to it. Not like I had anything better to do."

At Rem's words, Andrew's face lit up.

Ever since Rem had started sticking to their captain, Andrew had been feeling peace, love, life, and hope.

"Life is full of beauty."

"Get a grip."

Mac sighed and tried to bring Andrew back to reality.

Enri was no longer around.

He had left.

A few days ago, he had joined the unit escorting the wounded and never returned.

For someone originally part of the Madmen Squad, leaving like that should have been unthinkable.

But it had been a special privilege, a reward for his contributions in securing their victory.

"I think I'd like to try living a different way."

When Enri had said he was leaving, Enkrid had simply nodded and ensured that his departure was properly arranged.

He respected Enri's decision.

Not everyone could live off the sword.

Still, his absence was noticeable.

Even if he was exempt from kitchen duty and watch shifts, there were things he couldn't completely opt out of—like reconnaissance missions.

And so, while scouting enemy positions—something Krais had passionately insisted on—his absence was immediately felt.

Finding the way was suddenly a challenge.

Enkrid wasn't exactly a pathfinder, but he had a decent sense of direction.

Still, it was different without Enri, who had been a true guide.

Should he assign the task to someone else?

Compared to his squad members, Enkrid's ability to find a path wasn't just decent—it was exceptional.

"I'm no good at finding paths, but I am good at finding beasts and monsters. Since we're out here anyway, why not clear out a monster nest or two?"

That was Rem's suggestion.

Now that the Heart of Monstrous Strength had been passed down, he had been looking for opportunities to apply it in real combat.

A path?

Who knew if they could even find one?

Not that he cared.

"We'll run into something if we keep going."

That was Ragna.

Enough said.

The guy had zero sense of direction.

"We go where the will of the lord calls us."

Audin—another person who was just as dangerous as Ragna in his own way.

"The will of the lord"?

That was basically an excuse to do whatever he wanted when it suited him.

Jaxen said nothing, but he clearly had no intention of leading them anywhere either.

Rather than guiding this group, he'd probably prefer to vanish into thin air.

Mac was still there, but…

Between the two, Enkrid was the slightly better option.

Regardless, the Madmen Squad continued their search of the enemy encampment.

Though their own scouts had already gone through the place, Krais managed to fill his pockets in astonishing ways.

"As expected."

"No surprises there."

"Ooh, gemstones."

Muttering to himself, Krais unearthed a pouch of krona, a gem-encrusted dagger, and other valuables.

Nothing too rare, but a fair number of things that could be converted into krona.

"Soldiers hide their valuables before heading into battle, you know."

He wasn't wrong.

Some would bury precious gems near their barracks before a fight, asking comrades to retrieve them for their families if they didn't return.

Of course, if both they and their comrades perished, it all became meaningless.

But who marches into battle expecting annihilation?

This time was no different.

And when it came to sniffing out hidden valuables, Krais was unmatched.

Even in places the scouts had already overturned, he'd find something—under bedframes, buried beneath makeshift barracks, near trees where a mark had been scratched.

"How do you even find all this?"

Enkrid, curious, finally asked.

He was standing guard, but there were no signs of enemy presence, so he had nothing else to do.

"What else? He sniffs out krona. Look at that nose of his—doesn't it remind you of a gold coin?"

Rem chimed in.

He was just as bored.

A human nose—especially one belonging to a man considered fairly handsome—resembling a coin?

Nonsense.

But Krais ignored him entirely.

He knew that engaging with Rem would only put him at a disadvantage, so he simply let the words go in one ear and out the other.

That was a skill Andrew needed to learn.

"It's an answer that comes quickly if you think about it."

Krais tapped his right index finger against his temple as he spoke.

Somehow, his leather backpack, slung over his back, was already packed full.

"Think?"

Enkrid asked.

He was genuinely curious.

It also served as a way to clear his mind.

"If I were to hide something, where would I put it? Or, if the entire camp was destroyed and I was the only one left alive? Humans are like that, aren't they? We can't easily abandon hope. So, let's say the camp is gone, but I still need to find my belongings—where would I have hidden them?"

"...A place that's easy to recognize at a glance."

"Exactly. This branch is unusual, isn't it? It's not far from the barracks, and it's the perfect spot to stop by for a moment while heading out."

He had a point.

"More importantly—"

Krais's eyes sparkled as he spoke.

The same passionate gaze as before.

"The more valuable the item, the better you want to hide it."

This guy… His mind really worked in remarkable ways.

Of course, once you knew the answer, it didn't seem that impressive.

But the fact that he had predicted all of this before even setting out—that was what was truly astonishing.

"You still want to set up that salon?"

"Why do you think I'm living so diligently? One day, I'll open a salon, spend my nights telling pointless jokes, lazing around, and raking in Krona."

As far as dreams went, it felt… crude.

But Krais was serious.

Not just serious—he looked ready to stake his life on it if he had to make sacrifices for that goal.

Besides, how could Enkrid mock another's dream when his own was just as far-fetched?

If anything, compared to becoming a knight, running a noblewoman's salon and making a fortune seemed more realistic.

So he didn't mock him.

He didn't criticize him.

He didn't laugh at him.

It was the same with Enri's dream—to marry a widow florist, have children, and live a peaceful life.

'To become a knight.'

A thrill ran through Enkrid.

He felt like he was inching closer to the dream he had longed for.

Not just excitement—his whole body tingled, as if a wave of emotion had swept over him.

Yes, he was walking toward it.

Step by step, crawling if he had to, even by half a foot.

'So wait for me, my tattered and distant dream. I will stand by your side and walk with you.'

"Alright, all done!"

After rummaging through a few more places, Krais handed Enkrid two throwing daggers with thin blades.

"Use them. It's nothing special."

At first, he wondered why Krais had given him these.

"Are we here just to clean up after Big Eyes?"

"Shall we spar when we get back?"

Soothing him had become a daily routine.

Once they returned to the unit, training resumed as usual.

Even after meeting with the battalion commander, nothing changed.

Endless, stagnant training.

The next day arrived, and Enkrid suddenly began swinging his sword after using the isolation technique.

Focus.

Through singular focus, he poured all his senses into his sword.

It was the same as always, yet different.

No day was ever truly the same.

Enkrid himself didn't realize it, but he was no longer the talentless swordsman he once was.

He had gained much to make up for his lack of natural ability.

Experience.

New lessons.

The Heart of the Beast.

Pinpoint focus.

The sense of the blade.

The isolation technique.

And the countless hours of training that followed.

Time richer and more intense than before.

Enkrid was immersed in that time.

At some point, his vision blurred, his pupils unfocused, yet his sword grew sharper, his steps quicker.

Frog, Mitch Hurrier, battlefield.

As he reviewed and contemplated, swinging his sword, the world began to fade.

Heart, beast, strength, combat, battlefield, contemplation, review.

Forgotten and pushed aside, until only his sword and himself remained.

Only vague remnants of thoughts and hazy afterimages lingered.

He swung his sword, again and again.

His recovered right wrist moved more solidly than before.

Was it the effect of divine power?

Or the medicine given by the fairy company commander?

That didn't matter.

Fleeting thoughts surfaced and faded, until everything disappeared.

Enkrid felt as if he were watching his own body from outside himself.

A surreal, impossible sensation of separation—his body and mind detached.

And in that state, he saw his sword.

Slashing, stabbing, cutting, pulling back.

Zrrrck.

The sound of gravel shifting beneath his feet as he stepped.

Adjusting his stance, his sword's direction and position changed with his movements.

In Enkrid's eyes, only the trajectories of his sword remained.

Points connecting into lines.

A wavering blade, a heavy strike, the tip thrusting like a flash of light, the predetermined swings trapping the opponent, a half-turn with his arm snapping like a whip.

Paaaaang!

The sword cleaved through the air with a sharp sound.

Anyone who had known the old Enkrid—

Especially those who had seen him at the start—

Would be astonished by this sight.

Despite wielding a sword endlessly for so long, he had remained stuck in place.

A broken scarecrow, possessing only the will to move forward.

He couldn't stand, yet he still writhed, stubbornly struggling.

But now, that scarecrow was standing tall on its own two feet.

"Damn, you've improved."

Rem, watching from outside the barracks, was awestruck.

When had he become capable of forgetting himself, losing himself in the sword?

When had he learned to stand on his own like this?

The broken scarecrow was gone.

Squatting down, resting his chin on his hand, Rem felt a surge of emotion.

When had he grown this much?

Ragna stepped out of the barracks and stood beside him.

As the sword sliced through the air with a sharp whoosh, Ragna realized that his captain's swordsmanship had ripened.

Of course, he had already experienced it firsthand through sparring.

But seeing him so immersed in his swings felt strange.

It was as if something had ignited a fire in his chest.

His fighting spirit surged.

Ragna, caught up in the feeling, quietly drew his sword.

Srrng.

Then, he began swinging it on his own from one side.

Audin was the same.

'He's built his body well.'

How does one develop the ability to move exactly as they desire?

It takes rigorous training—delving into every part of one's body, becoming aware of it, moving it, feeling the pain, and pushing past limits.

The act of pressing against those limits—this was the Isolation technique.

And standing before him now was the greatest beneficiary of the Isolation technique that he had once envisioned in his mind.

Even his joints moved with ease.

His wrists would never suffer the same injuries as before.

Recently, he had focused on strengthening his joints.

'Lord, your servant is overjoyed.'

Feeling pure joy while watching another person—it was a rare experience.

And because it was rare, it felt even more profound.

Jaxen felt a strange sensation.

'It was the right decision.'

Teaching him to sharpen his senses, staying here—

Even though he hadn't made these choices for gain or loss, he had no regrets.

At one time, he had thought remaining here was a waste of time.

But looking at his leader now, not even the slightest trace of such thoughts remained.

***

From one side, Esther rested her chin on her forepaw, watching Enkrid.

Magic—spells—were a gateway to exploring new worlds.

The joy and exhilaration found in that pursuit were incomparable to anything else.

That was why she walked the path of spells.

The thrill of discovery, the excitement of uncovering something new, the fulfillment of building a world upon that foundation—

All of it made up who she was.

It was the driving force that led her to explore magic and construct her own spellcraft.

Then what was the reason for that human to be swinging his sword into empty air like that?

Watching Enkrid now, she was reminded of herself when she was lost in the depths of the spellcraft world.

Even with only a rudimentary knowledge of swordsmanship, she could tell—his skill was no small thing.

And so, a thought arose.

'What is it that drives you to move like that?'

Pure curiosity.

The inquiry of a spellcaster, an explorer, a seeker.

For Esther, this was an astonishing change.

She had spent her entire life turning away from everything but spells, and in doing so, had ended up with this cursed body.

Yet here she was, taking an interest in a person.

The realization startled her, but she also relished it.

New experiences were a source of vitality for her.

And this emotion, too, was something new.

Before long, Enkrid's sword came to a halt.

Hoo—

He stopped, sweat trickling down his entire body.

Esther moved.

She held a cloth in her mouth and hopped over.

When she handed it to Enkrid, who had been staring blankly into space, he took it and spoke.

"Thank you, Esther."

Nya-ah.

Think nothing of it.

Wiping his sweat with the cloth, Enkrid suddenly thought—the weather was unusually warm.

Was it the effect of the mild climate?

Or was it simply because he had focused entirely on his sword without a single distracting thought?

It felt like the suffocating pressure in his chest had vanished.

And with that sense of relief—

"Rem."

He had glimpsed the very edge of the Heart of the Monstrous Strength technique that he had been striving for.

If he could see it, he had to grasp it.

And then, he only had to make it his own.

Whether it would work as he intended—he would find out by trying.

"Let's go again."

It felt like just another ordinary day.

But no two days were ever truly the same.

That was simply the nature of things.