The corruption within the Temple became glaringly evident with this event.
“The Gray God is compassionate and loves everyone, even those who stand on the opposite side of the scales.”
They wove nonsensical words into a new scripture and many sided with it.
This was proof that under the heavens of sanctity and the Temple, there were more corrupt priests than righteous ones.
“Look, this is what is righteous.”
If one worshipped the Gray God, their tainted divinity became righteous.
As always, the loudest voice determined what was right.
Their voices grew louder and louder.
They had previously been criticized for losing their light, but now, wouldn’t all problems be resolved by recognizing the existence of the Gray God?
And if there truly was a God, shouldn’t he punish every sinner? Or at least offer forgiveness?
No such thing ever happened.
Not once.
Divinity was borrowed from the Gods, yet the Gods provided power without imposing obligations. They only spoke through their followers.
The reasons for the holy war were many, but one was certain:
The absence of God.
Another reason was the sheer number of people who wanted to insist that the Gray Light was righteous.
It was a desperate move by those seeking not only power but also justification.
If they stumbled into establishing themselves, they would become a unified group.
Hadn’t nations in the past been founded in much the same way?
People with similar ideals and mutual benefits gathering to form a collective.
“Look, those gathered here are proof of our righteousness.”
Muel reveled in power. As a member of the Temple, managing trade caravans and routes was already a substantial authority, but his power had grown.
He felt as if he had become a creator opening a new world.
And he chose to indulge in that feeling.
He was determined to open a new world.
Dreams are free, after all.
That didn’t make all dreams righteous, however.
* * *
Just before the holy war was declared, Encrid returned to the Border Guard.
What was the first thing he did?
“Rem, are you afraid of the cold? From today, I’ll be your cold. Come out, Ragna. You stopped walking because you feared your own talent? You arrogant bastard, let me show you just how insignificant you are.”
“…Did he hit his head?”
Rem muttered as he opened the creaking training hall door, wrapped head to toe in heated leather, a pitiful sight.
Luagarne, familiar with Encrid’s personality, knew his words and actions always had a reason.
She interpreted for him.
“He’s in a good mood and wants to spar. Can’t you tell?”
Rem stared at Encrid blankly before responding.
“Man, if he gets in a good mood twice, he might even insult my ancestors.”
It wasn’t quite that extreme, but Rem retorted in his own way.
Ragna followed shortly after, giving Encrid a once-over before speaking.
“He definitely hit his head. Look at how loose his tongue is.”
Despite their words, neither of them seemed genuinely annoyed.
Both Rem and Ragna understood that Encrid’s odd behavior stemmed from his good mood.
It felt sudden, but if it made him happy, who were they to complain?
Perhaps he was excited, or maybe just refreshed.
Either way, a cheerful leader wasn’t a bad thing.
Those watching shared a similar sentiment.
Even Sinar, upon hearing of Encrid’s return, entered the training hall. Normally slow and meandering, the Fairy seemed uncharacteristically urgent.
It seemed there was something she absolutely had to say.
It was a cloudy night. He wasn’t picking fights first thing in the morning but at bedtime, confirming he was an incorrigible lunatic.
Truly, the nickname "Madman or Knight of Madness" suited him perfectly.
“If it’s sparring you want, your fiance is here.”
Sinar remarked with a wry sense of humor.
“Who is my fiance?”
“I am.”
Sinar was shameless, her Fairy-style joke warming the air.
From the corner of the training hall, where half his body hid in shadow and half basked in moonlight, Jaxon spoke.
“Did you gain anything?”
Keen senses often led to quick perception, and Jaxon asked knowingly.
“Of course.”
Encrid responded while drawing his sword.
Shrrring.
It was a longsword he had picked up at the training hall right after returning. His Black Gold Blade was broken, so he had no choice.
He wielded the two-handed longsword with one hand, swinging it easily. Though lighter than his usual weapon, it presented no issues.
He had already adjusted to its weight on his way back and had concluded his taunts for sparring.
Encrid struck first.
His opening move targeted Rem. With a single step, he split the air, his blade carving through it with force. He poured all his Will into the strike. Rem reflexively drew his axe to meet it.
“You crazy bastard!”
Feeling the weight behind Encrid’s strike, Rem let out a yell that sounded like a curse.
If he had used even slightly less force, his body might have been cleaved in two.
Thankfully, he managed to summon enough strength in time to match the blow.
Boom!
A deafening sound rang out as sword and axe collided, sending shockwaves outward in concentric circles.
Dust and pebbles scattered from the dry, frozen ground as wind erupted.
Ragna squinted through the dust, recalling what he had just seen.
‘There was Will imbued in it.’
Simply imbuing Will was something they could all do. There was something else.
Quantitatively immeasurable, but the Will contained within had clearly grown stronger.
It was as if a pale shade had deepened in color.
The technique he had used was the Correct Sword Technique’s downward slash.
‘The Will in the strike was honed.’
It was a part of the swordsmanship he had learned from Ragna himself. Seeing it now, Ragna couldn’t help but feel pleased.
It appeared that Encrid had overcome a weakness or broken through a barrier.
“Let me join.”
Ragna drew his sword and joined the fray, thrusting at an angle difficult to avoid.
Encrid, on his way back to the Border Guard, had trained himself to allocate his Will across multiple strikes instead of pouring it all into one.
Once a path was opened, adapting to it was only a matter of time.
At least, that’s how Encrid saw it during his introspection.
“You’re sloppy!”
To Rem’s eyes, it wasn’t quite there yet.
“That’s true.”
Ragna agreed.
“You need more finesse.”
Jaxon chimed in, and naturally, Sinar joined as well.
“Fiance’s thrust.”
The Fairy-style joke escalated, earning her technique a ridiculous name as she swung her sword.
“You call that a thrust?”
Encrid dodged the cutting blade by twisting his body, retorting as he moved.
“It’s your favorite technique, isn’t it?”
It was the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique’s misleading strike.
Experiencing it firsthand, even knowing what it was, left him slightly irked.
Valen, the Knight of a previous generation, must have been the type who couldn’t resist mocking his opponents. There were too many techniques designed for exactly that.
Perhaps some people wielded swords solely for the sake of teasing others.
“Here I go again.”
Encrid waited for his Will to recharge and swung his sword again.
In the meantime, he was busy deflecting the alternating thrusts from Rem, Ragna, and Sinar.
They had all improved in the time he was gone. It was why he could barely hold them off.
Even if the repeated days felt short, every moment of those days was spent practicing like a madman.
When his Will replenished, he unleashed a full-power slash. After repeating this three times, his sword snapped with a sharp ‘crack’. It had failed to withstand the force of his Will, and the spar ended.
“Do you think brute-forcing Will with your will solves everything?”
Rem scolded him as he gathered his heated leather again.
Ragna, Sinar, and even Jaxon offered similar comments.
If Audin had been there, he would have added his two cents as well.
“If you train your body, you’ll learn to use Will more delicately.”
“Is that from experience?”
“For me, it just happened naturally. But since it didn’t for you, you’ll need to train.”
It would have gone something like that.
As they wrapped up, Krais appeared belatedly and remarked.
“This time, you broke your sword?”
“Indeed.”
Encrid nodded. He needed a new weapon.
“There were a lot of things going on, weren’t there?”
Krais asked.
“Yes. Likely many things. Including the story about hugging Esther tightly. I’m cold too, Enki. It’s someone else’s turn to hug me now.”
Sinar interjected.
“Winter is naturally cold.”
Encrid replied nonchalantly. He was so accustomed to Fairy-style jokes that he was no longer fazed.
“I’ll freeze to death.”
Sinar feigned a pitiful expression, bowing her head and making a mock sad face. Her drooping eyebrows were oddly fascinating to watch.
“Be fair and hug me too.”
Hearing Rem’s complaint, Encrid made a mental note to prepare a gift for him someday.
“Why don’t you tell us what you were doing at Cross Guard?”
Jaxon said, though he was likely asking how Encrid had gained these skills.
“It’s late. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Encrid looked around at everyone as he spoke. What was the point of discussing it at such a late hour? It was time to rest.
“This lunatic? He knew it was late but still wanted to spar?”
Rem exclaimed in disbelief.
“Sparring is important.”
Encrid answered and walked off to wash up. Though they were stunned, they let it slide.
“Didn’t you already know he’s like this?”
Krais remarked.
“I’m cold.”
Sinar returned to her usual expression and turned away. Hearing this, Krais added as he walked off.
“Let’s stoke the fire more.”
“Fire is dangerous.”
Then what was the alternative?
It wasn’t a question that required an answer.
“Not bad.”
Ragna summed up Encrid’s current state in one sentence before returning to his quarters.
The night passed, and the next day, amidst breaking multiple swords during training and sparring, Encrid and Luagarne spoke casually about what had happened in the city.
While it sounded ordinary to the others, it was remarkable nonetheless.
Not that Rem or the others acted visibly astonished.
Only Sinar muttered in one corner.
“I am already ice.”
Such were her musings.
The city, the cultists, and the Walking Fire.
Hearing all this, Rem fell into thought.
Looking back at the points when Encrid had made significant progress, a peculiar pattern emerged.
‘So, does he only change after going through near-death experiences?’
Whenever he survived such ordeals, his skills improved dramatically. Should they send him somewhere perilous? But how often do such places exist?
Encrid possessed an unending reserve of Will, considerable experience, and unparalleled instincts.
Sometimes, his intuition even seemed sharper than Rem’s—likely thanks to that crafty stray cat of his.
At this point, even significant threats were hard to come by for Encrid.
Were there none at all? No, there were some. For example, even Rem wouldn’t be confident in surviving the Western Demon Realm ‘Silence’.
‘Should we throw him into the Demon Realm?’
That would be insane. It was a fleeting thought.
It seemed strange that Encrid always broke past his limits in dire situations.
Perhaps that was why such thoughts surfaced.
Or maybe it was because of that brute-force strike he had performed a few nights ago.
During Encrid’s absence, Rem, too, had trained rigorously after hearing about Audin.
Thanks to this, members of the Rem Assault Unit began praising Audin. Some even considered building a shrine for him, though it was ultimately stopped.
Audin had indirectly influenced their training.
It was madness under a mad leader with equally mad subordinates.
Whatever the case, Rem incorporated what he had learned into sparring, pushing Encrid hard.
It was akin to playing on the edge of a cliff.
If things went wrong, someone might fall to their death.
Thankfully, nothing catastrophic happened. Nor did Encrid show any dramatic breakthroughs from these near-death moments.
‘Guess not.’
Rem thought simply, and Jaxon, observing, remarked sincerely.
“He’s nuts.”
“Is he in heat? That stray cat’s crying like crazy.”
It was an ordinary day.
As they settled back into their routines, news of the holy war arrived.
Though there was talk of the Gray God and whatnot, it wasn’t something Encrid needed to involve himself in immediately.
It was an internal matter for the Holy Kingdom.
However, the issue lay in their target: Noah’s monastery.
One of the traveling merchants on the newly opened Stone Road brought the news to the Border Guard.
“They’re saying that monastery is a den of demons.”
“Yeah, I heard that too. Something about raising a demon’s child and the abbot selling his eyes to demons. They’re claiming the Gray God rose to punish them.”
The propaganda had begun in earnest. Muel, the so-called Pope of the Gray God, had been scheming.
Krais mobilized the Gilpin Guild, sought help from Leona, and began gathering information.
Eventually, they discovered that the monastery Encrid had briefly visited had been chosen as a scapegoat.
Piecing together the situation, they uncovered Muel’s plan.
“Sacrifice a scapegoat to rally people with a clear target?”
Having a clear goal helped rally groups more effectively than simply calling them to gather. It was a calculated move.
When this was relayed to Encrid, his response was simple:
“Let’s go.”
It was straightforward and decisive.
This wasn’t a fight he was obligated or even incentivized to join. Winning might not yield any benefits.
Yet, Encrid prepared the new sword he had received from Eitri.
With most of their local assignments completed, Rem, Ragna, and Jaxon were free.
They had nothing else to do.
Esther, Sinar, Luagarne, Teresa, Lawford, and Pel joined as well.
“Everyone seems to have a lot of free time, huh?”
“We worked diligently before this.”
Lawford replied.
“The journey is urgent, so we’ll leave the unit behind and go alone.”
If they delayed, they’d arrive only to see smoke rising from Noah’s monastery. They opted for a small, elite group. Anyone who couldn’t keep up would be left behind.
“Officially, this is the First Knights’ expedition.”
Krais remarked as he saw them off.
“In a sense.”
Encrid nodded. A battle cry wasn’t necessary, but Encrid spoke on a whim.
“Madmen, let’s wreak havoc.”
Hearing this, Rem added.
“Let’s do it.”
The laughing barbarian’s face showed no trace of tension. Despite hearing about the two Holy Knights among the opposition, his expression said, “So what?”
“Ice Fairy is here as well.”
Sinar added, though Encrid pretended not to hear.
Since returning, she had been pestering him to hold her.
And so, the expedition began.
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