With a single slash, he poured out all his Will.
If it were an ordinary Knight—though calling them ordinary would not do justice—or someone with equivalent willpower, they would never attempt such a thing.
Those who had experienced the ‘exhaustion’ after recklessly unleashing their Will in the euphoria of newfound omnipotence would understand the peril.
They would instinctively sense that pouring out just a bit more could lead to death.
It might be the price of harnessing power beyond the limits of their kind. Pouring out intangible power came with the risk of dying.
Thus, it was something that should never be done, but Encrid possessed an inexhaustible Will. Thanks to this, he had never experienced exhaustion.
No, this was his first time.
The slash cut through the Walking Fire. The moment he saw the severed fire scatter.
‘Hmm.’
Encrid immediately sensed something was wrong.
Strength left his limbs. His arms and legs felt alien, his breath ragged, and even concentrating made breathing difficult.
His vision blurred, and his muscles spasmed.
His thighs and arms trembled while his abdominal muscles tightened painfully.
It was beyond severe muscle pain, as if his body’s autonomy was being seized.
All this was due to the exhaustion caused by releasing his Will at once.
The price was the crumbling Walking Fire visible through his hazy vision.
The flames scattered and died out.
Sparks flew in the air, with a few forming clumps that scattered.
Though the sparks didn’t travel far, they set the soil ablaze where they fell, indicating that the core of the spell had been severed but its residual power remained.
One of those sparks headed for Encrid’s face.
‘I can’t dodge it.’
He truly couldn’t lift a finger. All he could do was muster the last of his Will to turn his head to the side.
Some city folk who had coincidentally seen the Walking Fire and its defeat thought the same thing.
‘He’s going to burn.’
That spark would touch his face, leaving a grotesque burn even if it didn’t kill him.
It was the final assault of the remnants left by the Walking Fire.
Just as the ember was about to touch his face.
Thwack.
Encrid’s blurry vision cleared slightly, allowing him to see a thick hand blocking his view.
The thin lines crossing the back of the hand were meant to prevent slipping when gripping something.
It was Frog’s hand. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. The flames had latched onto Frog’s skin.
Frog, Luagarne, shook her hand to shake off the flames, but the residual fire had already blackened her skin.
Before that, Luagarne had skinned herself as if slicing her flesh. It was less painful to cut it off than to let it burn.
Since Frog’s skin was not very sensitive, she barely furrowed her brow.
Of course, not all Frogs were the same, but Luagarne didn’t even flinch.
“It’s fine. It’ll regenerate.”
She spoke. Encrid blinked once and nodded.
“I should still thank you.”
His tongue, stiff as stone, rolled smoothly. Though exhaustion had momentarily overtaken his body, Encrid felt strength returning soon after. The recovery was as swift as the fatigue had come.
‘Why?’
Turning inward, he felt the surge of Will returning. The inexhaustible Will would refill shortly even after being drained entirely.
He learned a few more things as well.
‘If I get used to this, I’ll be able to release more. Repeating it will expand my vessel. Experiencing exhaustion might actually benefit me.’
He was undeniably someone obsessed with training. The ferryman had described Encrid’s madness as such.
Despite the terrible experience of exhaustion, he immediately thought of using it to train.
“It truly is a Walking Fire.”
Said Luagarne, who had lost a hand. Instead of dispelling the curse-like spell, it had to be severed, which brought her here to find this scene. Not everything made perfect sense. There were many perplexing parts.
But she overlooked such trivialities. Something else captured Luagarne’s attention.
‘That slash earlier.’
Luagarne had been right behind Encrid. Arriving late, she had only seen the moment he swung his sword.
That slash severed a spell. The Walking Fire, a doomsday spell that wouldn’t end until everything burned, was cut.
What could you call that moment?
Spell suppression? Spell restraint? Spell slaying?
One thing was clear—it was a slash that could rightfully be called the nemesis of wizards.
‘Severing the Walking Fire?’
Even for the immortal regenerator Frog, it was an almost impossible feat to attempt. What kind of Knight could accomplish such a thing?
She had witnessed such a miraculous skill, and her heart raced with excitement.
How had it been done?
Frog’s discerning eyes perceived the hidden principles behind the act.
‘An outpouring of overwhelming Will at once.’
That was what Encrid had done.
Encrid’s usual limitation was the restricted amount of Will he could release at a time.
It was like having a well full of water but only a small bucket to draw it with.
That had been Encrid’s weakness. But no longer. He had just proven it before her eyes.
He overwhelmed the spell with his Will.
Frog was moved and thrilled by curiosity. A question arose.
How had he overcome his weakness in just one day?
‘Mystery.’
That word caused Luagarne’s heart to pound. The thrill she felt was so great that she could have declared, ‘My heart is racing.’
Encrid had regained his vision and the ability to move his tongue, but his limbs hadn’t fully recovered. His sensory recovery had outpaced his physical recovery.
Through his senses, Encrid detected malice targeting him. It came from the depths of an alley and revealed itself.
They weren’t particularly skilled attackers.
“Die!”
Their shouting as they ambushed him was equivalent to announcing their presence, marking them as amateurs.
Why would they reveal their location before striking?
If Jaxon had seen this, he would have remarked how incomprehensible it was.
Thus, they posed little threat. Yet, their malice was genuine. There were three of them, armed with daggers and poisoned needles.
Had Encrid been alone, it might have been a concern, as he hadn’t fully recovered from exhaustion.
But Encrid wasn’t alone.
Slash! Thud!
Everything was intercepted by Luagarne’s whip. Made of enchanted leather, the dark-brown whip lashed out like a serpent, striking the assailants on their knees, waist, and shoulders.
The whip had a round weight at its tip, which she wielded like a blunt weapon, breaking bones and tearing skin.
The combination of Frog’s strength and whip-wielding technique quickly subdued the three attackers.
Their cries of pain, “Ah, ugh, ack,” echoed as they fell.
Even as they fell, their eyes burned with malice, and they shouted.
“The world ruled by Black Blood will come!”
“Demon God, descend upon this land!”
They were cultists.
It might have prompted a question: Had he wielded his sword for such people?
But Encrid’s gaze didn’t waver as he looked at the three subdued cultists.
By severing the Walking Fire, he had saved the city’s tomorrow.
If the ferryman had witnessed this moment, he might have asked:
“So, is that the tomorrow you wish to save?”
If so, Encrid would answer with unwavering conviction.
“No, it’s not.”
What wasn’t true simply wasn’t.
Would that response bewilder the ferryman?
To want to save all humans, including those who wished him harm and were stained with malice, giving everyone equal chances? Encrid harbored no such lofty ideals.
Thus, he felt no saintly compulsion to spare those who attacked him.
“Kill them.”
Encrid said.
“That’s only natural.”
Luagarne nodded in agreement.
Even if their actions stemmed from indoctrination, invoking the Demon God and their heretical deeds weren’t Encrid’s concern.
From the beginning, saving everyone in sight was never an option.
He would protect the future behind him but still destroy those who crossed the line.
If he hadn’t accepted this, he wouldn’t have picked up a sword in the first place. A sword is a tool to harm others.
“Whew.”
Encrid exhaled, clenching and unclenching his hand to check his condition.
“Are you alright?”
Luagarne returned after breaking their necks with a swift kick, killing all three.
Someone among the onlookers shouted, “Good riddance”. Later, it was learned that the three had been particularly notorious even in a lawless city.
Not that they were the only ones of their kind left.
“Yeah.”
Encrid answered as he stood. Strength returned to the body once dominated by exhaustion. Compared to before severing the Walking Fire, he felt no weaker.
‘No, I feel even stronger.’
To someone knowledgeable about a Knight’s Will, it would be a shocking statement, but to Encrid, it was only natural.
Will born of intent was always abundant. Encrid inspected the blade of his black-gold longsword, noticing a crack along its edge.
‘I’ll have to ask Eitri for help again.’
When he returned, Krais would surely say, "Do you really have to break your equipment every time you go out?"
Still, it was fortunate that things ended this way.
Though there were still cold gazes directed at Encrid within the city, there were also others.
Among them were those with goodwill, and even admiration that surpassed unease.
The gaze of an old stableman, clutching his pitchfork and staring blankly, changed from surprise to reverence, and finally to goodwill.
"Th-thank you."
The old man spoke with words overflowing with genuine gratitude. Having seen the Walking Fire up close, he instinctively understood how dangerous it was.
Had Encrid not severed it, wouldn’t some people have surely died?
What kind of future awaited the old man, who had repeatedly died in today’s tragedies?
No one could know.
It was merely a fact that he was alive to bow his head in thanks.
That was the only change.
The entirety of Cross Guard didn’t sing Encrid’s praises or shout out his nickname.
But such things weren’t necessary.
“What happened here?”
The lord arrived belatedly, followed by Delma and the innkeeper.
The lord soon heard about the Walking Fire and understood roughly how great a danger had entered the city before disappearing.
In this explanation, Luagarne’s embellishments provided fitting emphasis.
She seemed eager to proclaim how extraordinary Encrid’s actions were.
“Can you sever a spell? From now on, the hero who saved this city must have the title ‘Spell Slayer’ added to his name. If the doomsday spell, Walking Fire, had continued rampaging, who here would have survived? One thing’s for sure—I wouldn’t have died.”
Luagarne confidently stated that if she didn’t die, neither would Encrid. She wouldn’t let this man die before her.
She had proven this repeatedly throughout today.
If she burned, he would burn after her; if she burned later, it meant he had burned first.
Whether it was fierce loyalty or something else, it was undeniable.
The lord, bewildered at first, gradually realized how grave the city’s danger had been and expressed his relief and gratitude.
Meanwhile, Encrid reflected on the day that would no longer repeat.
At the start of the day, he had looked in the mirror and told Esther he would sever the Walking Fire.
If asked why, he would explain it as a way of firming his resolve.
‘I also need to prepare my armor.’
After wrapping up the situation, Luagarne asked.
“Why did you do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you step forward? You had no obligation to protect this city.”
Cutting the Walking Fire was a gamble, at least from her perspective. Encrid had thought similar things during the countless repetitions of burning today.
When the ferryman had asked, he said he wanted to protect ‘tomorrow’.
Now, this felt like the proper answer.
“Because I could.”
Yes, that was it.
It was something he could do. He didn’t have to avoid it. Within today’s repetitions, he could bring about a new tomorrow.
That was why he did it.
He also found satisfaction in protecting the child who wanted to become an innkeeper, the shipbuilders who persevered, and even the lord who expressed gratitude without truly understanding anything.
Under the city’s skies, more people passed unaware of the danger posed by the Walking Fire.
When he went to sleep and woke up, a new sun rose, similar to the previous day but somehow different.
Although he had only stayed a few days and merely one night had passed, Cross Guard’s present felt slightly changed. That was the impression.
There was more liveliness, and a sense of hope lingered—hope like planting apple trees that would someday bear fruit.
There were embers of despair and suffering, but also slashes of hope that summoned life and protected people.
That was what had happened in the city yesterday.
Then, as dawn of the next day broke and he rose to train as usual.
“Hold me. I’m cold.”
A visitor appeared unexpectedly.
“Esther?”
Her complexion was pale, and she wore a single robe that barely concealed her inside, as she approached.
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