“Am I just a lump of rock? You think I’ll just stand here and take your hits?”
This was a frequent remark from Rem during their sparring sessions.
Walking Fire lacked technique and agility, making it easy to cut down. However, humans were a different story.
Even if you poured your willpower into a strike, it was meaningless if it didn’t hit.
You could put force into your attacks, but what if the opponent dodged or deflected them?
“You’re too slow!”
In this regard, Rem pushed Encrid the hardest.
Accelerating thought to make instantaneous judgments.
Infusing willpower into the fleeting gap of a moment.
Rem said all of this was essential, and he demonstrated it through action rather than words.
Although he initially explained verbally, his explanations were as rough as a ghoul’s, so his actions carried more weight.
“Listen here. If you throw a rock and the other person dodges, what happens? You don’t get your strength back, and you lose the rock. So, it’s good to have cut down something like Walking Fire, but that’s not enough.”
Encrid listened attentively. While he roughly understood, he decided that words weren’t necessary.
“Alright. Let’s spar. No more explanations.”
“How can I put it more simply than this?”
Of course, there were probably a hundred simpler ways to explain it, but there was no need to argue.
Thus, their sparring continued. Encrid repeated this for several days and found it so enjoyable that it sent shivers down his spine.
Rem’s axe continually diverted his sword, disrupting his stance. His constantly moving feet made it impossible to land a decisive blow with Walking Fire.
“No matter the stance, you need to at least mimic a decisive strike to say, ‘Ah, now it’s usable.’ Sure, an ignorant fool might take a hit, but at the level of a Knight, they’d see right through such reckless attacks.”
According to Rem, gathering willpower and swinging a sword was akin to shouting loudly.
He wasn’t wrong.
Shouting loudly grabs attention, whether people want to listen or not, so Rem’s advice made sense.
“Decide in the moment whether to break your willpower into pieces or pour it all out.”
This was an advanced version of what they practiced against the Gray Holy Army—how to cut down momentum by accelerating thought. Rem argued it should be possible to do the same when fighting Knights.
From the sidelines, the barbarian teacher seemed excited, and so did Encrid, the student.
Both appeared half-crazed as they sparred relentlessly.
One night, a ferryman appeared in Encrid’s dream and asked:
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
Instead of answering the obvious, Encrid focused on why the ferryman appeared.
“Is the wall approaching?”
Though the ferryman didn’t get a reply to his question, he responded casually.
“Do I have any reason to tell you that?”
Hadn’t he eagerly shared such things before?
Encrid didn’t argue. Whether he heard of the Wall’s approach or not, nothing would change.
His resolve remained steadfast and unyielding.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
The ferryman spoke.
“It is as you see.”
The answer implied: Isn’t it fun, so why not?
Encrid replied and parted ways with the ferryman. Yet, somehow, he felt that this ferryman was entirely different from the one he’d met before.
The exterior was the same, but it felt like the core had changed.
It was just a feeling, something he couldn’t question or change.
So, Encrid continued doing what he always did.
With Rem, he practiced instantaneous decision-making sparring. With Ragna, he worked on dividing willpower into segments for his strikes. With Audin, he went through grueling physical training. With Jaxon, he trained to visualize his senses, staying relentlessly busy.
“Don’t you want to feel the spring wind?”
It was early afternoon on a cold winter day.
The sun’s rays cut through the cloudy sky to touch the ground when Sinar appeared.
“It’s the middle of winter.”
“I know.”
Encrid understood that Sinar didn’t literally mean spring and recalled when she had used that phrase before.
“You’ve said this before. What does it mean?”
“It’s hard to explain with words.”
Sinar spoke as she drew her sword, Naidil.
Schling!
The sound of the blade sliding out of its scabbard was unusually vivid.
It felt as if the sound itself carried willpower, urging him to look at it.
The drawn sword emitted a faint green glow. It wasn’t dazzling, but its presence was undeniable.
It felt alive, vibrant—touching the realm of perception.
Whether it was due to his sensory visualization training with Jaxon or simply Sinar’s skill, Encrid could feel the glow emanating from her blade.
A crystallization of life and vitality shimmered along the edge.
“With enough vitality, you can create something like this.”
Sinar said. The Naidil in her hand truly resembled a leaf sprouting in spring.
‘So that’s why it’s called the Leaf Blade.’
Encrid thought as he raised his sword. The Jin silver blade crafted by Eitri rested in his hand. A short sword hung diagonally behind his waist, while Ember dangled loosely at his right side.
He wore no armor, nor the cloth gauntlets he usually wrapped around his hands.
Thanks to sparring and rigorous training, his body was riddled with muscle soreness and bruises, but he had no intention of refusing Sinar’s offer to spar.
Encrid smiled faintly in anticipation.
The ‘spring wind’ must be a sword technique. Sinar intended to show it to him. The thought alone filled him with exhilaration.
After all, it wasn’t every day that a Fairy demonstrated a new sword technique.
Sinar’s expression remained as unreadable as ever—a face difficult to discern emotions from.
It was curious how such a face could occasionally break into a smile.
“You’re doing something interesting.”
Rem had returned late after sleeping outside for two days while training his subordinates. Now, the gray-haired barbarian stood yawning at the entrance to the lodging.
His days were filled with sparring with Encrid, training his soldiers, and personal workouts to avoid falling behind the bear-like Audin.
Rem was busier now than when he went out to battle, to the point where training felt harder than fighting.
But was he complaining? Not really.
That morning, after hitting Encrid’s thigh, only to get smacked in the forehead and end up with a lump, Rem rubbed the swelling as he reflected.
Though he played the role of a relentless trainer, it was hard to say that Encrid’s skill could be taken lightly anymore.
Despite his relentless pressure, Encrid’s progress was slow but steady. Now, his skills could no longer be underestimated.
Even Sinar, with her remarkable abilities, might find him a formidable opponent.
It was both intriguing and enjoyable to watch.
“Feeling bored?”
Ragna was there too. He had stayed behind to teach Encrid how to distribute willpower into every motion—cuts, thrusts, everything.
How could one infuse concentrated willpower into each strike, no matter the moment?
For Ragna, it was simple, he just did it. But that wasn’t the case for Encrid.
“Repetition is necessary.”
Ragna had been teaching Encrid for quite some time. By now, he had adapted and become accustomed to it.
Through this, he refined and honed his techniques to perfection.
While teaching, Ragna himself became even more skilled.
It wasn’t for nothing that he was called a genius.
Previously, he had skipped the process and only focused on results. But now, he delved into the steps he once bypassed.
Without thorough understanding and perfection, teaching was impossible, making this a natural progression.
Ragna’s gaze shifted to Sinar and Encrid.
Was she doing this out of boredom? Regardless, this sparring session would undoubtedly benefit Encrid.
“Experience diverse opponents.”
This advice was given to Encrid by Anu, the Mercenary King, long ago.
Had he known back then what Encrid needed? Or was it mere coincidence?
Either way, encountering diverse opponents was essential for Encrid now.
Although he had already gained considerable experience, Ragna concluded that he needed more high-quality encounters.
“Is this the unique swordsmanship of the Fairies?”
Luagarne was also present, making three spectators.
She, too, was significantly contributing to Encrid’s swordsmanship development.
Even if her skills fell short, her keen insight and years of accumulated experience were invaluable.
Sinar swung her sword regardless of who was watching.
Encrid carefully observed her footwork, breathing, and the angle of her arms, preparing himself.
He focused and perceived.
It felt light and gentle.
Though her blade clearly cut through the air toward him, it felt as though it floated gently on the wind.
Encrid didn’t disregard the sensation.
Ignoring such perceptions would be contrary to wielding intangible power.
Rem, Ragna, and Luagarne all knew that Encrid’s skills had recently improved dramatically. So, they weren’t surprised by what happened next.
Thud!
Sinar’s blade descended like a leaf but was restrained before it could fall as intended.
Encrid had raised his sword, deflecting her blade with controlled force, binding it.
A sword must move to progress, and binding it halts everything.
It was akin to stifling a song by silencing the singer before they could open their mouth.
Watching someone’s technique unfold without countering was akin to acting like a ghoul’s companion—foolishness.
Thus, this wasn’t a cheap trick.
Only by doing his best to break the technique could he truly witness the full potential of the Fairy swordsmanship.
If it could be thwarted this easily, that would be its limit.
“Well done.”
Sinar responded without a hint of a smile, pulling her blade back to her chest.
Ting.
Their blades clashed a few more times before parting. Encrid had tried to maintain the bind, but Sinar’s deft control of push-and-pull freed her blade.
Her precise movements displayed a level of finesse even Rem, Ragna, or Audin would struggle to replicate.
The Leaf Blade retreated swiftly, and just as she said, the ‘spring wind’ began to blow.
A warm gust.
The swordplay that followed, paired with the vitality-infused blade, didn’t match the winter sunlight.
Encrid felt an invisible force brushing his shoulder amid the gentle descending strikes.
‘Fascinating.’
The Fairy swordsmanship called Spring Wind blended smooth, flowing motions with unseen blade strikes.
The invisible strikes, of course, came from the vitality-infused blade.
The blade’s wide arcs resembled a large leaf shielding her front.
Should he break through with strength or evade to target the flanks?
Both were viable strategies. Encrid alternated between them.
It was a battle of willpower, matching strike for strike. Sinar was a formidable Fairy Knight.
Overpowering her at once was difficult and unnecessary.
Instead, they demonstrated their techniques to each other.
When he tried to pierce through, the leaf blade layered additional defenses.
When he targeted the flanks, the blade moved to envelop her fully.
By dodging and using power-packed strikes to parry, Encrid navigated the exchanges.
“That’s it for today. See you tomorrow.”
After a prolonged duel, Sinar spoke and turned away. As usual, there were no jokes.
“Impressive.”
“A defensive swordsmanship designed to neutralize swift and powerful strikes.”
Rem and Ragna each commented. Encrid nodded in agreement.
The next day, Sinar returned in the late afternoon.
“I’ll show you Summer Rain.”
“Sounds good.”
There was no reason to refuse. They began sparring again. Soon, Encrid’s eyes widened.
“Your sword changes?”
He spoke as he saw the Leaf Blade transform into a long whip-like weapon.
Ching!
The moment Sinar mentioned Summer Rain, the Naidil blade elongated and wavered.
“An enchanted sword.”
Luagarne murmured.
The blade thinned and extended, becoming a long, flexible weapon. It shimmered and scattered light before cascading like rain.
A torrent of strikes rained down from above.
Instead of dodging, Encrid chose to counter. It was instinct, but he believed evading would only cause the rain to chase him, and retreating would sap his strength, leading to defeat.
His training with Rem hadn’t been in vain.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Had his Jin silver blade been lighter, it would have been impossible to fend off the onslaught.
Amid the torrent, a sharp blue energy emerged.
Yesterday’s energy had been green, but today it was blue.
Swift and precise strikes danced within his accelerated thoughts.
‘If I can block the wave, I can block the rain too.’
Encrid revisited an unfinished swordsmanship technique he’d named the Wave-Blocking Sword.
Drawing upon it, he barely managed to fend off the attacks. The blade twisted, targeting his ankles and even attempting to coil around his wrist.
‘If it wraps around, I’ll lose a limb.’
Just as rain moves with the wind, so too could this blade adapt.
Despite the challenges, they concluded the day’s sparring session.
“Tomorrow, I’ll show you Autumn Leaves.”
Sinar said mid-attack before stepping away.
“I look forward to it.”
Encrid replied.
The following day, Sinar demonstrated the Autumn Leaves technique, and by then, the number of spectators had grown.
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