Chapter 138 - Had to Endure

Chapter 138 - Had to Endure

"Do you really have to use two swords?"

The duel had ended.

Rem asked.

Sweat was dripping down—though not from Rem, only from Enkrid.

"Yeah."

Enkrid, slumped on the ground, nodded.

Rem's lips parted but then closed again.

To be precise, after seeing Enkrid's expression, he swallowed the words that were about to come out.

For example:

"Should I explain just how ridiculous dual wielding is?"

"Did you think having two swords would double your attack power?"

"Stop messing around and just use one sword properly. Listen to me before I split that fancy blue sword in half with my axe."

Thoughts like those.

Rem controlled his tongue, pressing it against the roof of his mouth as he pondered.

Well, he did receive the axes, after all.

The axes Enkrid had given him were of higher quality than expected.

The subtle blue sheen was proof that the metal had been properly refined.

It was undoubtedly Valerian steel.

Judging by its hardness and craftsmanship, these axes would last quite a while.

Weapons he was quite fond of.

So...

'Let him be.'

Of course, the axes were just an excuse.

In reality, it was Enkrid's expression that made him give up on nagging.

Sometimes, when he made that face—

Talking about how he dreamed of being a knight, how today was a good day to swing a sword, how he would spend his spare time training, whether on the battlefield or elsewhere—

Every time he muttered things like that, his face showed an unmistakable resolve.

No, maybe it was more like a firm determination.

Though calling it that felt excessive, given how calmly he carried himself.

Regardless, there was an invisible line around Enkrid that no one could interfere with.

Rem figured he had such a line himself.

And Enkrid had always respected it.

'If he ends up tangling himself up, hitting a wall, or getting stuck...'

He'd probably quit on his own.

Lately, people had been calling Enkrid a late-blooming genius, marveling that he had awakened at the age of thirty.

'Was that thanks to me? Sure, I played a part.'

But at its core, when you dug deeper, this was something Enkrid had done himself, by himself, alone.

At least, that's how Rem saw it.

Enkrid had never given up, no matter the moment.

He had never been discouraged.

He had never even considered despair.

He simply moved forward, steadfastly.

Even if he had to crawl.

That phrase came to mind again.

Was that why Rem kept watching him?

Or was it because he was so different from himself?

Rem had abandoned everything and become a wanderer.

Born with talent and everything else he could have wanted,

But he threw it all away.

Turned his back, walked away, refused to face it.

Meanwhile, his captain—this stubborn, unshakable man—was different.

All he had was his sword.

A single, well-honed blade.

That was it.

And yet, he walked.

Without knowing what lay at the end of that path.

Without questioning whether he was worthy of walking it.

Without ever complaining about how difficult it was.

Because it was a path he had chosen, a path he had decided on, he simply enjoyed it.

What kind of person could be like that?

Rem's thoughts grew complicated.

Learning Heart of the Beast in a single day?

Sure, it was surprising, but it wasn't impossible.

After all, geniuses existed.

The fact that it was his own squad leader who had done it was unexpected, but—

'I guided him, demonstrated it for him, even monitored his condition.'

With that much, he should at least be able to mimic it.

But living life with that kind of attitude—now that was something much harder to imitate.

At the end of his thoughts, Rem moved his tongue from the roof of his mouth and spoke.

"I think I like you, squad leader."

"…Did someone spike your food?"

"Beating you up is satisfying."

"Oh, yeah. That sounds more like you."

Enkrid took it in stride.

Watching him for a moment, Rem suddenly pictured a certain directionally-challenged bastard who usually lazed around and sulked.

"Training's over?"

"I really fucking hate you."

Rem spoke with his entire heart.

He couldn't afford any misunderstandings, so he made sure it was genuine—completely sincere, just like how Enkrid would say it.

"Oh, same here."

Ragna nodded, even adding a soft smile.

He looked as if he wholeheartedly agreed.

Ragna already had a pretty face, but when he smiled, it made Rem want to punch him even more.

"That goes for me too."

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a sneaky stray cat with his arms crossed chimed in.

The guy who normally never spoke was suddenly running his mouth.

"Brother, all things in this world exist within the Lord's embrace. Naturally, the Lord even tends to the hearts of men. As His servant, how could I hide my own feelings? Yes, I feel the same way. Ha-ha."

The massive zealot grinned as he stripped off his shirt.

It was disgusting.

It was all just for show, wasn't it?

No different from outright saying, "I can't stand you."

So why bother with all those words?

Even though those irritating guys kept adding their two cents, Rem couldn't help but feel—really, inexplicably—pleased.

That was just how it was when he looked at Enkrid.

Riding that exhilaration, just a little bit excited, Rem decided to be generous.

"Hey, kiddo!"

Andrew flinched at Rem's voice but quickly stood up straight.

'To nurture the enemy in my heart means I see them as great. And seeing them as great means I've already lost before the fight even begins.'

Holding onto that mindset, Andrew drew his sword.

Srrng.

"Damn, you sure catch on fast."

Rem pressed his foot against the ground and stepped forward toward Andrew.

The razor-sharp axe swung back and forth like a pendulum from his shoulder, its glinting blade eerily menacing.

"…If you ask for mercy mid-fight, I'll step in," Mac said from behind.

Andrew nodded.

A grateful man, truly.

From helping him rebuild his family to standing alongside him against Rem time and time again.

'But Mac… why are you backing away as you talk?'

Huh?

At that distance, wouldn't it be hard to step in if things got serious?

You're pulling back too far.

It's starting to feel… unsettling.

"You can do this. Lord Gardener, you are the sole hero who will rebuild the Gardener family."

…Why was he saying that from way over there?

And since when did he start calling him 'Lord Gardner'?

Didn't he usually just say 'Andrew'?

Even dropping honorifics sometimes?

Pretty sure he did…

Mac kept retreating—until he was practically next to Enkrid.

If there was a single safe haven from the madmen of this squad, it would be there.

But Andrew couldn't escape to that haven.

Not when he still had his pride.

And besides, every time he fought this crazy barbarian, he got stronger.

For the sake of tomorrow, not today.

Just as he'd learned from watching his squad leader.

"Come at me, arrogant savage."

"Huh? So you're saying I can chop off an arm?"

Those dull gray eyes sharpened with intent.

"Screw you."

Andrew went all in.

He had no other choice.

Enkrid watched the entire situation unfold from where he sat.

He had given everything against Rem.

With both swords, he had done his utmost.

The Heart of the Beast had granted his arms unbelievable strength.

A remarkable surge in power.

But it wasn't enough to call himself a true dual wielder.

Compared to using a single sword, he hadn't been able to press Rem as much.

He could feel it—his training was lacking.

'I can't get used to this.'

Enkrid studied the calluses covering his palms.

He didn't resent his lack of talent.

He just needed more time.

So then… what should he do next?

"Are you taking a break?"

The answer was right in front of him.

Ragna.

For once, the man actually seemed eager.

Why, though?

Why was he like this only toward him?

Not that Enkrid minded.

Not at all.

He knew better than anyone—this was a rare opportunity.

Placing a hand on the bruised thigh where Rem had kicked him, Enkrid stood up.

"No."

Ragna nodded, as if he'd expected that answer.

Then, he drew his sword.

"Are you using two?"

"Yeah."

Ragna didn't question him further.

That, in itself, was strange.

Normally, if he said he was using two swords, Rem or Ragna would have tried to stop him.

If not them, then Jaxen or Audin.

Hell, even Andrew, Mac, or Krais might have something to say about his sloppy technique.

But no one said a word.

Weird.

Still, he didn't ask.

Instead, he swung his swords—tighter, closer together.

He had searched for the most efficient way to wield two swords.

Thought through it.

Experimented.

He hadn't just been sitting around.

As he trained with the Heart of the Beast, he had also been refining his dual wielding.

And yet, it still felt clumsy.

Like a sculpture that remained unfinished, no matter how much he chiseled away at it.

So his hands were busy.

Unsteady.

Messy.

Ragna batted away Enkrid's swords with ease.

Just like Rem had.

Which meant—

He had completely dominated the fight.

"Hm."

Ragna started to say something but stopped.

"Haa… haa… haah."

Breath ragged, Enkrid planted his right hand on his thigh and drove his left-hand sword into the ground.

Sweat dripped.

His back bent halfway forward, head hanging down.

A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, traced the bridge of his nose, and fell to the ground.

What should he even call this?

Extreme training?

For something like that—

His limbs trembled uncontrollably.

The Heart of the Beast—an ability that momentarily shatters the limits of one's muscles—came with its side effects.

As Ragna remained silent, Audin interjected.

"You've overdone it, Squad Leader, Brother."

Raising his head slightly, Ragna looked at Audin.

Audin was wearing his usual smile—the same smile he had when using the Isolation technique.

What was this?

That expression was usually reserved for when he was hiding his inner devil.

"You need to rest."

"Rest?"

"You shouldn't use the Isolation technique either, Brother."

What was this about?

Normally, he'd be the one itching to push the training further, to squeeze out every last bit of strength from them.

"I'll speak later, later."

Ragna muttered, lost in thought.

Enkrid tried to get up but collapsed sideways.

As if he had been waiting for it, Audin caught him.

"Let's get you inside."

"Do we have no duties or missions today?"

"Even if we did, Squad Leader, Brother, you wouldn't be allowed to go."

Was that so?

Enkrid had vaguely sensed it himself.

The Heart of the Beast—it was an incredible weapon, an amazing technique.

The ability to enhance one's strength in an instant—it was what allowed him to even exchange blows with monstrous beings like the Frogs.

And if he became skilled enough, he could even withstand a giant's strike like Rem.

Rem, standing firm against a giant—his back had been truly impressive.

It was almost enviable.

Having seen that, there was no way he could give up on the Heart of the Beast.

Audin supported Enkrid.

"At least get washed up first."

Even with his trembling limbs, Enkrid carefully fastened his gear.

"Seriously, do you guys fight every single day?"

Krais, standing beside him, scolded him for no reason.

And yet, his hands moved quickly to help Enkrid.

"Go wash up. I'll take care of your gear."

"Mine?"

"Do you have any idea how many years I've been eating army black bread? Do you know how much Krona I've made just from maintaining equipment? I'm probably better than most blacksmiths."

Come to think of it, that was true.

Whenever there was nothing else to sell—no women, no cigarettes—what had Krais been doing?

He'd been making his rounds through different barracks.

Maintaining equipment wasn't just a way for him to make extra income—it was a method for getting friendly with soldiers from other units.

Unless someone treated their weapon like a lover, maintaining it was just a tedious chore.

Enkrid also valued his weapon—his sword, his armor—but Krais could be trusted with them.

By the time he returned from washing up, Krais had even polished his sword to a shine.

"If I draw this under the moonlight, it'll be a perfect beacon to announce my location."

"That's a compliment, right?"

"Yeah."

"Squad Leader, sometimes when you give compliments, you do it in such a… well, 'Squad Leader' kind of way."

Krais chuckled.

Before Enkrid could ask what that even meant, Audin approached.

He had just finished drying off and was about to sit on his bed when Audin's large frame cast a shadow over him.

Krais, startled, instinctively stepped back.

"What the—? Ah, Audin? What's up?"

"I have business with the Squad Leader, Brother."

A smile.

A bear's smile.

A large predator's smile.

Or perhaps, the smile of a demon with a plan.

This wasn't good.

Enkrid had a bad feeling.

And soon enough, Audin's hand landed on his body.

"When muscles are overworked, they tend to seize up. There's a way to release them. This will be the next technique you learn."

Learning—training—those words immediately shifted Enkrid's defensive stance.

"What is it?"

A grin.

No answer.

Just a smile.

That was even more ominous—and his instincts proved right.

"Ghh… Guhhh… Urghhh…"

As Audin pressed and twisted different spots on his body—

Enkrid felt a surge of pain.

His vision darkened.

He thought he could see the ferryman ahead in the distance.

It was as if he had dipped his foot into the river of death and returned.

The kind of pain that clawed through his entire body.

"This is how you release tense muscles. When I was learning, they used to call this 'Blood, Sweat, and Tears.'"

Was that supposed to be the name of the technique?

No way.

But right now, he couldn't even ask.

Even as waves of sharp pain tore through him again, there was no room for words.

A time of suffering, so intense that even screaming felt impossible.

But, of course, it wasn't the kind of pain that would break him.

He just had to endure.