Slash, slash, and slash again.
Ragna’s sword carved through the enemy, cutting, crushing, and splitting them apart.
He wanted to create an iron wall.
At the very least, he wanted it to be more refined than what Encrid had shown, but he questioned whether this method was refined at all.
Depending on one’s perspective, this could even be considered cruder, never mind the willpower it consumed.
Ragna’s sword strikes were not insanely fast.
That’s why the soldiers being crushed and broken were clearly visible to everyone.
No, it was less that they saw it and more that someone seemed to be forcibly shoving the gruesome sight into their eyes.
“Stay down, or you’ll die.”
Ragna said as he moved, slashing again. His words were death sentences aimed at the enemy soldiers.
“Ridiculous!”
A crusader, confident he could block at least one strike, was cut down.
A crusader reputed to be the best with a shield in his unit was also killed.
A Junior-Knight was caught in the passing slash and died as well.
‘Terrifying.’
One soldier had that thought.
Before thoughts like ‘I don’t want to die’ or ‘I miss my mother’ could surface, his body reacted instinctively, rejecting death.
Pure fear filled the soldier’s heart.
Thus, he drew a wall of fear.
Fear became a wall that blocked them from advancing.
No one dared step forward—this was Ragna’s Iron Wall.
“…What in the…”
Muel stood dumbfounded, unable to close his mouth.
Among those who recognized the strength, Will, and meaning behind Ragna’s sword strikes, one couldn’t hold back his excitement.
“Excellent, brother! Let me show you as well!”
What Ragna demonstrated was the swordsmanship he had honed over the years. Audin saw it and grew furious.
Audin had said that when he returned, he would assess Ragna’s skills, and Ragna had answered with his sword.
‘Will you still speak of teaching me?’
Whether or not that was Ragna’s intention, Audin took it that way.
One of the returning warriors stepped forward and spoke.
“I am Audin of the Mad Knights Order.”
His clothes were tattered, but no one paid that any mind.
Simply stepping forward imprinted his presence and pressure on everyone around.
“I am but a humble servant who feels shame. Father, why have you sent them down the path of corruption? I will now return them to your side, please guide these lost sheep back to where they belong.”
With those words, Audin strode toward Azratic.
The distance between them was not far, so it was reduced to just a few steps in moments.
Azratic watched as his opponent approached. Not only did his body grow larger, but his presence expanded with every step.
For twenty years, Overdeer had been his only worthy rival.
Now, others were rising to challenge him, and the man before him was surely one of them.
Azratic could feel it.
If he had remained quietly within the Temple, he never would have encountered this man.
“To place something on one side of the scale, one must balance it with something of equal value on the other.”
Azratic murmured as Audin approached.
If what he desired was the passion he had long forgotten, what could he place on the other side of the scale?
The teachings of the Libra God demanded that he place something of equal worth.
Whether it was honor or his very life.
Azratic thought he had crossed a line of heresy, but in desperation, perhaps such lines could be crossed.
Or was it all just self-justification?
If Encrid could hear his thoughts, he would have nodded and told him not to run away behind such excuses.
“Are you looking forward to this, brother? Or is your old and sick mind just deluded?”
Audin asked as he strode closer, seeing Azratic’s expression as if he were an excited child before a field trip.
“Yes.”
Azratic answered honestly, feeling his forgotten passion reignite.
Wasn’t this why he had set out to fight?
On the other side of the scale, he had placed his reputation and his life.
Beyond that, he had even stepped into heresy.
In return, he gained the thrill of a life-risking duel.
“So am I.”
Audin smiled.
It was time to send this poor sinner to the side of the War God and hold him accountable for his sins.
To smile at a sinner before judging him was proof of Audin’s kindness.
At first glance, Azratic’s physique seemed half the size of Audin’s.
But the pressure he exuded was no less than Audin’s.
Azratic softly wiggled his thick, long fingers as he took another step forward.
Those fingers were the weapons that had earned him the nickname ‘Bone-Breaking Serpent’.
Now within arm’s reach, the two extended their hands.
Tap.
Audin and Azratic pressed their right hands together.
It was a habit from their days as unarmed warrior-priests, marking the start of a sparring match.
Their hands parted, and immediately, their limbs clashed.
At first, the sounds were small.
Tap, smack!
It was the noise of hands and feet meeting, deflecting, and nullifying each other’s strikes.
Azratic used Holy Penetration, but Audin countered it with his own divine energy surging from within.
These attacks and defenses were woven seamlessly between simple hand and foot movements.
Anyone present with the ability to sense willpower recognized the deadliness of what they were witnessing.
“This is great!”
Azratic shouted.
He had just feigned a sweeping kick to Audin’s ankle while simultaneously trying to pull him off balance.
However, Audin had seen through the move and evaded instead of blocking, which prompted Azratic’s exclamation.
Azratic realized that their skill levels were evenly matched.
‘Or… am I slightly losing?’
And yet, it was exhilarating.
If he was outmatched in skill, what else remained?
Whoom!
Azratic began to radiate light.
It wasn’t the dull gray light seen before but a brilliant white radiance.
This was the Divine Power accumulated over decades.
While it wasn’t as limitless as someone’s endless willpower, its sheer volume was immeasurable.
“Excellent!”
Audin shouted in return.
He had seen through Azratic’s techniques just as much as Azratic had seen through his.
Before Azratic could sweep Audin’s legs, Audin faked a downward strike to the shoulder with his hand.
Then, spreading his fingers like claws, he attempted to grab his opponent, only for Azratic to counter by clasping his hand.
They tested each other’s strength for a moment, and Audin realized that his opponent’s grip was as hard and unyielding as iron.
Audin’s body began to emit light as well.
His light was a mix of white and yellow radiance.
The mingling of their lights made it difficult to determine who had the upper hand.
It was clear this battle wouldn’t be decided quickly.
Encrid watched everything and recalled the conversation he had just before the fight began.
It was a fleeting thought.
* * *
“There’s no guarantee we’ll win.”
Encrid turned to look at the voice that held him back.
It was a verbal hand, but he couldn’t ignore it or brush it off.
The man speaking was Noah, a true friend who genuinely cared.
If Noah wanted to be his friend, Encrid couldn’t just overlook his concerns.
From Encrid’s perspective, though, it wasn’t that important.
Even if he understood Noah’s sincerity, he wouldn’t change his decision.
“I may not have an eye for great tactics, but I know this isn’t something strategy alone can solve.”
Noah repeated, his tone neither fast nor slow.
He wasn’t wrong. Even the nameless crusader said something similar.
It would be ideal to win this elite battle, but if the army advanced and attacked the monastery, people would die.
It was obvious.
If the Holy Knights tied down their strongest fighters and the army charged in, the monastery couldn’t be saved.
Noah didn’t know that Lawford, Pel, Teresa, and Ragna had already stopped the enemy’s advance.
Nor could he have predicted it, as it hadn’t happened yet.
“We might lose. We might die.”
Encrid acknowledged Noah’s words.
Beyond tactics, he understood the meaning behind Noah’s concern.
There was no guarantee of victory.
It was like dancing on the edge of a dangerous cliff.
“Then why are you going this far?”
Noah, a man who once only wanted to save the children, looked at Encrid with clear eyes.
Eyes untouched by worldly corruption, filled with a light that no other priest possessed.
Encrid paused at the question of ‘why’.
Was it simply a matter of showing his resolve, even if it meant dying?
That wasn’t it.
At moments of crisis, Encrid forgot about his curse.
That was what the ferryman admire most about Encrid.
He was a madman who walked solely toward tomorrow.
“A peddler could be struck by lightning while traveling. Why do they still set out on their journeys? It’s the same for me.”
Without much thought, Encrid answered plainly.
To Noah, it sounded like something out of ‘Koan’, a scripture that sought truth through riddles.
But unlike ‘Koan’, the meaning was clear.
“You can’t set out on a journey if you’re afraid of tomorrow.”
If you fear losing, you can’t even hold a sword.
If you fear dying, you wouldn’t have dreamed of becoming a Knight.
And if you fear the next dream, you might as well turn back now.
It was too arduous a goal to pursue otherwise.
“What if I ran away here? What happens when something similar happens again?”
Encrid asked, his tone still calm.
It was so casual that anyone watching would naturally believe he would never run away.
If you turned back once, you could turn back twice.
If you justified yourself with excuses once, you could do it again.
A single mistake doesn’t decide everything.
But refusing to act when given a chance to fix it—that was unacceptable.
An uncertain tomorrow lay before Encrid.
In the past, he didn’t have the strength to try.
But now, he could, and that brought him joy.
It was a genuine feeling.
Watching Lawford’s efforts, Ragna’s swordsmanship, and Audin stepping forward brought those thoughts to mind.
Or more accurately, it was seeing the opponent before him that made him think.
“Weren’t there only two Holy Knights?”
It was a man wielding a polearm, wearing rattling steel boots.
Instead of approaching, Encrid stepped toward him first.
The man removed his helmet, setting it aside.
It was a visor helmet, which could limit vision in battle.
But his reason for removing it wasn’t tactical.
“Do you prefer not wearing helmets? I suppose we’re evenly matched in armor.”
The man sought balance.
He wanted to fight on equal terms.
Yet something about him felt off to Encrid.
His tone, demeanor, and overall atmosphere seemed discordant.
Despite claiming to seek balance, the man gave off the impression that he would do anything to gain an advantage.
He seemed like someone whose words and actions didn’t match.
“In that case, shouldn’t you change your weapon first?”
Encrid spoke, half-joking.
If balance was so important, shouldn’t their weapons match as well?
It was clear as day that the man’s weapon was engraved, an enchanted weapon.
“Changing weapons is too much. An engraved weapon is like an extension of myself. I can’t fight without it.”
The man refused outright, as if the suggestion wasn’t even worth considering.
He appeared to be around Encrid’s age, at least in appearance.
In reality, he was likely quite young.
Encrid, blessed by the Goddess of luck with youthful looks, appeared far younger than his years.
In his twenties, this wasn’t the case, but by his thirties, he often looked ten years younger.
Age aside, the man clearly wasn’t someone to underestimate.
Talent had nothing to do with personality.
Encrid had known that truth long before becoming a Knight or reliving today repeatedly.
“May I ask you something?”
The man’s tone was strange, almost like that of an old man.
Or perhaps it carried an undertone of condescension.
Encrid didn’t care. He wasn’t here for a verbal battle.
“Ask.”
“Why did you step forward?”
‘Ah, that question again.’
But the man’s reasoning wasn’t the same as Noah’s.
He wasn’t asking why Encrid risked his life in such an uncertain fight.
It seemed to be a question born of pure curiosity.
“There’s no profit in it, is there?”
The Libra Constellation demanded that for something to be placed on one side of the scale, something of equal value must balance it on the other.
If Encrid risked his life here, what was on the other side of the scale?
Whether it was material gain or something else entirely, the man wanted to know.
Encrid nodded at the question.
There was a second reason, one he hadn’t shared with Noah.
While Encrid hadn’t come here for profit, there was indeed something to gain.
Beyond saving people and defending the monastery, there was also a reward to this fight.
It was a small gain, but the experience was invaluable.
Encrid had learned that fighting strong opponents, whether equal to or stronger than him, significantly improved his skills.
Hadn’t he grown from fighting Walking Fire?
But that was only a minor benefit.
There was another, more personal reason, one that Noah would think insane.
While profit could be calculated, Encrid didn’t enjoy doing so.
“It seems fun.”
Encrid answered.
The man tilted his head, puzzled.
‘Fun? What does that even mean? Why risk your life for something like that?’
Their paths were simply too different.
Encrid found joy in the thrill of growth.
That exhilaration often drove him to swing his sword even when death loomed.
At least, that’s how it was for Encrid.
To him, the emergence of a strong opponent brought joy.
In other words, while defending Noah and the monastery was part of it, this fight also piqued his personal interest.
That was why, despite facing an unexpected opponent, a smile played on Encrid’s lips.
“Is that why you’re smiling?”
The man asked.
“Yes.”
Encrid nodded again.
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