The Knights’ dining hall also served as a reception room and, of course, was located right next to the training ground.
The building layout was entirely centered around Encrid and for Encrid.
Thus, all the pathways led to the training ground.
The old man, stepping outside, showed no hesitation as he grabbed the handle of his cane and pulled.
Sling!
The blade was drawn, reflecting the light.
Encrid stood facing him and drew his Valyrian steel sword.
Srrrrng.
The clear sound of the sword scraping against its sheath was refreshing.
Encrid discarded all other gear, holding only his sword. Without a word, they faced each other, both holding real blades.
Though it was a sparring match, it could easily turn into a life-and-death fight.
There were no promises, no agreements between them.
The old man clicked his tongue.
Click!
The sound rippled through the air like a wave.
Thanks to the heightened senses he had gained through Jaxon, a skill known as sensory technique, Encrid felt the sound like a vibration.
Some of the waves spread outward without resistance, while others bounced off his body and reflected back.
The sound waves transmitted information to the old man.
It was a technique known as echolocation.
Through sound, he could gauge the distance between himself and surrounding objects, as well as their shape.
The old man raised the hilt of his sword beside his face, pointing the tip forward, with his eyes closed. His clouded eyes were no longer visible. The old man spoke.
"Be careful."
With those words, the old man moved. This time, there were no waves, no sound.
Only the descending blade from above remained.
The speed of a Knight is so fast that it can’t be seen by ordinary eyes. It seemed almost mystical.
Of course, no one here missed the old man’s movements, and everyone saw his sword strike.
Luagarne unknowingly puffed her cheeks and rolled her eyes.
She had trained and honed her body to improve her dynamic vision since the first time she grabbed a sword.
Now, she could see the results.
The old man’s swift, slashing strike, which seemed to fold space as if he had flown, was captured by her eyes.
Of course, this wasn’t the full extent of the old man’s ability, but seeing a Knight’s movement was already proof that her training had paid off.
A slash—a blade falling from above.
If Luagarne barely caught sight of the strike, Sinar and Jaxon, standing a step back, fully grasped the old man’s movements.
He crossed his feet to increase his speed, dirt kicking up beneath his steps, yet his movements were silent and stealthy.
At a glance, it seemed as though there was no willpower infused in his strikes.
With everyone watching, Encrid also moved.
In a split-second reaction, he responded to the old man’s sword.
He subtly lowered the tip of his blade, which had been in a middle stance.
His trained muscles flexed, and his sword surged upward with blue light, like an eagle snatching its prey.
At the moment when the Valyrian steel sword, swung upward, met the blade of the sword stick, the old man’s sword curved like a snake.
Ting!
The sound was surprisingly dull, considering it was metal clashing against metal.
The thin blade that ran along Encrid’s steel sword resembled a snake sword, much like the one Encrid wielded.
In that fraction of a second, Encrid made a decision and acted.
The tip of the sword, which had curved like a snake and seemed poised to cut his arm, disappeared.
The old man had jumped backward, creating distance.
And then—
Click!
He clicked his tongue again.
Though blind, the old man’s sword wasn’t defensive at all, it was highly aggressive.
Even now, as he retreated, he swiftly changed his stance.
Crossing his feet, he raised his sword next to his cheek, a posture signaling his readiness to attack.
Using echolocation to locate his target, the old man began to move sideways.
Swish, swish.
His feet dragged along the ground, and then he quickly stepped forward, his movements rapid.
It was as if he was memorizing the terrain with his feet, stepping firmly and deliberately.
He walked in a circle around Encrid, his movements making him appear to multiply.
It was a technique that deceived the eyes by controlling the pace, creating the illusion of multiple images.
“Shuffle Drive.”
Jaxon muttered under his breath. The old man was showing a high-level assassin’s technique.
Sinar also recognized it. She had faced assassins before.
Both she and Jaxon didn’t blink as the old man activated his technique.
While it was a technique that many could perform, polishing it to this level was rare.
With afterimages multiplying around Encrid, the old man appeared in various positions.
The old man swinging his sword downward.
The old man retreating into a defensive stance.
The old man lowering his sword as if folding it to the side.
The old man thrusting forward.
The blind old man aimed at various points on Encrid’s body with a dozen different stances.
Normally, anyone would have been confused, but Encrid was used to this kind of trick.
Hadn’t he learned and mastered it through the specter trapped in his sword, Aker?
If it was a technique that used willpower to create illusions, Encrid could use something similar.
No, not just something similar—he could go beyond that.
When the old man activated his technique, Encrid’s intuition told him something.
He felt that he would learn and advance further through this.
Encrid’s blue eyes gleamed brighter than ever.
Though his eyes weren’t literally glowing, that’s how it appeared.
The old man, at the very least, recognized that Encrid was doing something.
And he really was.
Encrid was a madman who enjoyed near-torturous training.
What did that mean?
What does a person need when the moment of growth comes?
Talent? Effort?
Both were important, but more than anything, it was about being prepared when that moment arrived.
In that sense, Encrid was always prepared.
'Aker’s Web.'
Willpower is determination.
Using willpower to pressure the opponent? That’s Intimidation.
If you slightly alter that Intimidation, you can use it in different ways.
Having previously learned to build a steel wall behind him, Encrid had burned that lesson into his body.
That’s why he gained a similar realization this time.
It was a moment where preparation met opportunity, and he seized it.
Encrid adjusted his position—his shoulder, his feet, the tip of his sword—ever so slightly toward the old man.
Some movements were so minute that they would go unnoticed unless closely observed, while others boldly swung the sword.
All his movements were akin to the old man’s footwork. It was a matter of controlling the pace.
"Hmm."
Jaxon let out a low groan, startled.
What would you see if you faced Encrid’s sword now?
It wasn’t clear from a distance.
"It must be frustrating."
Sinar said, hitting the mark.
Hundreds of movements, like a wall of willpower, pressed down on the old man, similar to a steel wall blocking an army.
The old man saw it clearly.
He was, after all, the man who had stopped an army.
The old man halted his steps and retreated, clicking his tongue once more.
Click!
What else did he have left to show?
The old man pondered, drawing his sword hand back to his cheek.
Seeing the old man retreat, Encrid followed.
Having judged that he had gained the upper hand, there was no reason to hold back.
Bang!
Finally, their swords clashed properly.
Encrid, striking with the Heart of Great Strength, sent the old man’s body flying sideways.
No, rather, the old man flung himself that way after taking the hit.
With his sensory technique honed, Encrid sensed it and chased after him.
Turning his ankle smoothly, his sword followed like flowing water, aiming once more for the old man’s neck.
Bang!
Another clash sent sparks flying into the air.
Blue veins popped on the old man’s hand, showing that he was putting in all his strength.
As Encrid continued to face the old man, he was surprised by three things.
First, there was no sign of willpower or presence.
Whatever trick the old man was using, it was impossible to tell. The old man showed no trace of willpower.
Yet, he moved with the speed of a Knight, which naturally meant he was using willpower.
Second, his skill in silencing both sound and presence was exceptional.
If Encrid lost sight of him for even a moment, it would be over for him.
The old man constantly tried such tricks, with his strange footwork and sudden bursts of speed to get out of Encrid’s line of sight.
Of course, Encrid didn’t let him get away.
Third, the old man was far weaker than expected.
Encrid knew that not all Knights were the same, but it was almost disappointing.
Timing his move, Encrid used a horizontal strike with the Middle Sword Technique, forcefully knocking the old man’s sword aside and placing his blade at the old man’s neck.
"Is this your best?"
The old man, though defeated, smiled and said,
"If we fought with strength, I wouldn’t be able to hold out for even a single move. I’ve lost."
"One more round?"
"Trying to kill an old man, huh?"
For a Knight of his caliber, it wasn’t a fitting thing to say.
Still, the strength Encrid sensed from the old man felt different from his own.
He seemed to be in the same category as Jaxon.
"What’s your name?"
It was only now that he asked for the old man’s name.
"I’ve forgotten."
It didn’t sound like he didn’t want to say, it sounded genuine.
Is there only joy in clashing swords and exerting strength?
No.
For Encrid, everything related to wielding the sword was a source of enjoyment.
"Strange, very strange. Do you really enjoy this?"
The old man, though blind, spoke as if he clearly understood Encrid’s mental state.
In truth, anyone could tell.
With sparkling eyes and a face filled with excitement, who wouldn’t notice?
"Yes."
Encrid answered, raising his sword.
The second match also ended with a quick victory.
As he fought, Encrid thought, ‘Even if we fought ten times, I’d win all ten.’
On the other hand, Jaxon, watching from the sidelines, thought the opposite. He recognized the danger the old man posed.
‘He’s terrifying.’
From his movements, his judgment, and the direction of his strikes, Jaxon saw it all.
If the old man were to engage in a different kind of battle instead of a direct fight, there would be few who could survive.
How would he compare to himself?
He wasn’t sure, he’d have to find out.
For the first time in a long while, Jaxon’s heartbeat quickened with tension.
‘When was the last time I felt like this?’
Not since taking on the responsibility of Geor’s Dagger, it seemed.
The old man was of his kind.
* * *
Click!
"So, you can tell where things are just by hearing sound?"
Rem asked, sitting across from the old man who had just demonstrated echolocation.
"That’s right."
"Really?"
"That’s how I know you’re secretly rolling dice."
"Wow, I was testing you, testing you! You really can tell."
Even after sparring with Encrid, the old man naturally stayed in the city.
He didn’t eat or sleep at the barracks, but he stayed at an inn in the city and occasionally visited.
At first, the barracks soldiers tried to stop him, but later they learned that Encrid had allowed it, so they let him come and go.
No one told him to leave, and no one criticized him.
Some of the Mad Knights didn’t care who came and went.
Others found it better to keep the old man within their detection range.
"He’s not a new recruit, is he?"
At one point, Krais came by and asked, and the old man shook his head.
"I’ve forgotten my name, but I have other work, so I can’t stay here long."
In other words, even if they offered him a place in the order, he wouldn’t join.
Knight-level skills? Then what was he?
Krais looked at him suspiciously.
Calling him Knight-level, but how common were such people on the continent?
Not at all.
Even if you scoured the entire continent, there wouldn’t be more than a hundred.
And in the neighboring kingdom of Aspen, there were likely none left.
Wasn’t it strange for such a figure to suddenly remain with the Border Guard?
It was very strange, but Encrid allowed it, so they let it be.
‘Even Gilpin couldn’t figure out who he is.’
A Knight-level figure like him should have some notoriety, and with that, they should have been able to gather some information.
But there were no rumors, nothing about this old man.
A blind man with a sword cane should be quite famous, yet he wasn’t.
"Right, right."
Krais gave a vague response. It was something beyond his control.
That didn’t mean he was doing nothing, though. He had people discreetly working to uncover the old man’s identity.
The old man, with his clouded eyes, smiled at Krais, as if to say, ‘No matter what you try, you won’t find out who I am.’
"What kind of work are you doing?"
What would happen if he asked directly?
Uncovering hidden intentions through conversation was one of Krais’s strengths.
Hadn’t he once had a knack for discovering ladies’ hidden secrets in his youth?
"I can’t tell you."
"Then what’s your affiliation?"
"That’s a secret."
The old man winked. Blind as he was, he could still wink.
When asked openly, the old man openly refused.
If he clammed up, there was no way to get more out of him.
"Leave him be."
Encrid intervened at the right moment, pulling Krais back.
It was as if Encrid was saying he would take responsibility for the old man.
Krais nodded.
After that, the old man mingled with the troops as he saw fit.
Ragna didn’t care, and Rem often joked around and even played dice with him.
The blind old man easily saw through his tricks, which only made Rem enjoy their games even more.
Jaxon kept close to the old man, always remaining in a similar position relative to him. He made sure the old man was always within his sight, even when eating, sleeping, or relieving himself.
Encrid found it curious as he observed.
For Jaxon to act that way meant he was aligning his schedule with the old man’s patterns. But it wasn’t forced, it seemed completely natural.
If no one paid close attention, no one would even notice.
"Still here?"
Sinar would occasionally give the old man a jab when they met, but the old man would only smile.
Going back and forth between the city inn and the barracks became part of the old man’s routine, and Encrid paid little mind, continuing his daily training.
He knew well that today was the result of never wasting a single day.
So, he always gave his best.
To outsiders, he might look like a training-obsessed maniac, but that was Encrid’s way of life.
Ten days after the old man arrived, on a moonlit night, the temperature dropped as the moonlight shone on the ground, bringing a chill to the evening air.
The cool breeze made the moonlight feel colder than before.
Encrid was heading back to his quarters. Jaxon was standing by the training ground, silently sharpening his dagger, and on the log bench across from him, the old man sat.
It was quite late, but he still hadn’t returned to the inn.
Well, day or night wouldn’t matter to this old man.
To him, it was all darkness anyway.
As Encrid walked across the stone floor near the training ground, the old man’s voice called out.
"May I ask what you plan to do next?"
The question was sudden, but the power in his words made Encrid stop in his tracks.
The moonlight behind the old man cast a shadow in front of him.
Though he sat in the darkness, the shadow looked darker, as if drawn with an even deeper black.
The head of the shadow moved, turning toward Encrid.
Thanks for the Chapter Bro!!! :DD
Thanks for the Chapter.
Is it updated regularly? Also what is release schedule
Creo que he leído el manhwa, talvez lo esté confundiendo.. 🤔