"It's truly fascinating."
Rem said, retrieving his axe.
"What's fascinating?"
Encrid asked as he twisted his sore ankle, the result of his subordinate's misstep. It wasn't broken, nor was the pain unbearable.
‘Not bad.’
Moments earlier, during his sparring session with Rem, Encrid had twisted his ankle at an unnatural angle due to repeated strenuous movements, but it neither broke nor snapped.
Had it been an ordinary person, immediate treatment would have been required to avoid a lifelong limp. But Encrid was no ordinary person.
Years of training with Audin had honed his flexibility.
Moreover, the Knightly skill called ‘Endure’, which hardened his skin and muscles like steel, coupled with the technique called ‘Will’, protected him further.
The technique, ‘Will’, was something Encrid learned from Audin. According to him, most crusaders train tirelessly in it.
"When faced with an impact or an unnatural joint twist, you imbue your willpower to protect it. Crusaders combine divine protection to avoid injuries and heal simultaneously, but with 'Will', you only hold it together."
That was how Audin had explained it. Of course, mastering it wasn’t easy.
One might even say it was a hellish ordeal. Not literal death, though, because meeting the ferryman during training would be awkward.
"Hey, you're only allowed to die on the walls I create. Dying alone—what's that supposed to mean, you bastard?"
Wouldn't he say something like that?
Who knows? The ferryman Encrid recently met in his dreams seemed unlikely to utter such words.
"Enjoy it. In the moment of despair that will surely come, I shall be there to witness your fall."
Words like that. They didn’t sound like a blessing. Nor did they feel like a curse. Just words.
There wasn’t much more to think about regarding the ferryman. Audin's training method for ‘Will’ was extremely simple.
"Alright, I'm going to break your bones. Brace yourself and hold it together."
This was what he said while grabbing Encrid's forearm with one hand and raising the other in a chopping position.
"The bear's finally lost it."
Rem commented, offering his opinion from the sidelines.
"If it breaks, Seiki will heal you. It's a good chance to teach Seiki how to use divine powers."
Audin said, completely ignoring everything else.
Hearing this, Encrid naturally broke out in a cold sweat.
Audin's determination to break something was clear.
"If you've got nothing to do, just go to sleep."
Ragna added his commentary.
"That's effective."
Luagarne remarked , observing the scene like Frog might.
Lawford and Pel, however, turned pale.
"Does it really need to be this extreme?"
Pel muttered under his breath. In hindsight, both Pel and Lawford ended up undergoing similar training.
Thus, Encrid learned ‘Will’ by enduring a brutal process of being hit and twisted. If he were to write an autobiography about it, the story could easily exceed ten thousand words. That’s how grueling it was.
Afterward, inspired by observing the unique swordsmanship of the Fairy race, Encrid poured everything he had into sparring with Rem.
And at the end of the session, Rem commented that it was truly fascinating.
Encrid's thoughts seemed long yet brief as they skimmed through the grueling days of his training.
His reflection on those days was swift, taking no more than the time it took to ask, "What's fascinating?"
Rem replied to Encrid's question.
"Sometimes, you seem to have no talent whatsoever, like a polite ghoul. But other times, you seem like you could almost be a genius."
He said, scratching his head with the axe handle.
Encrid listened quietly and then responded.
"It's not talent; it's accumulated experience. I've compressed unorganized fragments in my mind and found a direction."
"So you're saying that wouldn't require talent?"
"You just need to accumulate experience."
"What? Do you resurrect after dying and keep trying?"
"How did you know?"
"Let’s not talk anymore."
Rem grumbled, unaware of how close he'd hit the mark.
Encrid didn't bother convincing him otherwise. Instead, he focused on what he had gained from the sparring.
He reviewed and consolidated the lessons he had learned.
These days, this was a daily practice, one of the reasons his meditative sessions had grown longer.
The biggest realization was this:
‘There is no such thing as a single point of focus.’
In extreme situations, heightened concentration often made time feel slower—a phenomenon of accelerated thought.
Through reflection, Encrid realized that many of his Knights, including Ragna, Rem, Audin, and Jaxon, exhibited similar traits, despite never having learned a technique named ‘single-point focus’.
When asked why, their answers were exasperatingly simple: "We can do it, so we do it."
Though their smug attitudes annoyed him, Encrid wasn't bothered enough to dwell on it. He was too busy consolidating his realizations.
‘So why name techniques at all?’
To clarify and structure them for practice. This was the realization.
"You don’t use single-point focus, do you?"
He asked Ragna, who had once taught him the technique.
"No, I don’t."
Encrid didn’t ask why. There was no need to confirm.
Instead, he turned his attention to his own process, understanding that naming techniques wasn’t essential.
To ensure seamless execution, the act of gathering and concentrating ‘Will’ had to be ingrained through repetitive practice until it became reflexive.
This was a well-known principle of swordsmanship.
Yet only now did Encrid fully grasp it.
Initially, he understood it intellectually. Then his body reacted instinctively. Now, he comprehended it deeply.
Rem's frustration when he often said, "Just do it naturally, like breathing", suddenly made sense. It’s easier said than done.
And while simple in words, the process of physical and emotional understanding was vastly different.
Especially for someone without natural talent, achieving such effortless execution was an immense challenge.
This was the same reason his ‘Wave-Blocking Sword’ technique had hit a roadblock.
A wave symbolizes water—fluid and formless. The technique needed to translate this into a barrier that could perfectly repel unpredictable attacks.
The essence of swordsmanship lies in its meaning, method of execution, and training regimen.
These three elements were essential.
Until now, the ‘Wave-Blocking Sword’ only had meaning: ‘A sword that even stops waves.’
But Encrid’s thoughts finally extended to its implementation and naturally to its training method.
While not fully refined, the breakthrough felt like a sudden clearing of a foggy vision.
This was the result of sparring with Rem today.
As before, each breakthrough came with a synthesis of past experiences and an effortless application of those lessons.
Could he put all this into words?
"It’s difficult. That’s why it’s so hard to convey realizations verbally."
Even so, Encrid vaguely believed he could consolidate his journey into some form.
Though he didn’t yet know how, he felt it was possible.
This realization naturally led to another thought.
‘So that’s why Sinar communicated through swordsmanship.’
It was too hard to articulate otherwise.
Only now did Encrid understand that Sinar’s display of the Fairy race’s unique swordsmanship had been a farewell message.
He also realized the hidden meaning behind the letter Sinar had left, promising to wait for his proposal.
‘It means not to look for her.’
Then why mention a proposal at all?
Considering how he always rejected jokes about engagement, using the word ‘proposal’ essentially meant ‘don’t bother searching’.
Of course, Encrid couldn’t fully grasp Sinar’s intentions. This was simply his interpretation.
And it wasn’t entirely wrong, as Sinar had indeed left the letter with such implications.
* * *
Winter was in full swing, yet within the Border Guard, the air was electric with activity.
Rem’s Assault Unit and the reserve forces had nearly resolved the chaos caused by the cultists.
Around this time, Krais, acting on Avnair’s advice, took deliberate steps to reorganize the military.
Reorganization meant restructuring the military hierarchy. While they had done this before, it had been a rough sketch. This time, they delved into meticulous detail.
The first step was reshuffling Encrid’s unit, creating a division dubbed "The Madmen’s Guard".
The division leader was none other than Pel, a member of the Knightly order.
"Why me?"
Pel protested.
"I thought it was a position for the most talented. Isn’t it?"
This was Krais’s retort.
The actual persuasion likely involved longer discussions and various proposals, but that was the gist.
Thus, Pel became the commander of the Madmen’s Guard.
"Anyone less talented than me, roll."
And so, Pel drove his men even harder than Encrid had. Luagarne supported him in this endeavor.
Few warriors matched Luagarne’s expertise in personal tactical combat leveraging the environment.
Knights and soldiers alike observed her and absorbed her techniques.
Meanwhile, Rem’s Assault Unit, or ‘Rem’s Guard’, remained unchanged, which led Krais to receive death threats demanding its dissolution.
Krais, in turn, handed the letters to Rem for his safety.
"I won’t bother hunting down the sender. You’re one unit. If one screws up, everyone suffers."
Rem declared, addressing his unit.
"Isn’t that unfair?"
A member protested , known for his stubbornness and skill.
"My standards are like this. Don’t like it? Beat me and take over as commander."
Ah, Rem.
Rem never tried to persuade his men with words. He simply ruled with strength.
"You mad bastard."
And though his men cursed him during training, he let it slide. Curses were commonplace in rigorous training.
Rem put them through a grueling ten-day sparring regimen.
The ‘ten-day sparring’ involved the entire unit taking turns fighting Rem, who showed no mercy.
"I could kill you all, unlike the Captain. Losing a few of you doesn’t matter."
He warned.
Rem’s words instilled fear down to their bones, driving them to fight desperately for survival.
While he never truly intended to kill anyone, his men experienced near-death moments.
Had he been less careful, someone might have actually died.
At this time, Rem was engrossed in his theory that near-death experiences could awaken even the untalented.
His theory wasn’t entirely wrong. The results spoke for themselves.
Those who endured became exceptional fighters by necessity.
Even so, some of Rem’s men continued glaring at or resenting Krais.
"Rem!"
Krais always quelled such situations with a single word.
From an outsider’s perspective, it might have seemed like Krais was being targeted. And his men were indeed foul-mouthed.
Yet discipline was firmly instilled. They wouldn’t dare defy orders, adhered to their duties, and followed commands diligently.
"A disorganized unit is like a rotten apple. And rotten apples spoil the others around them."
Avnair had often said.
Avnair’s guidance greatly helped during incidents within Rem’s unit. Krais also delegated responsibilities to Ragna.
Of course, relying on that lazy madman for leadership was optimistic at best. But there were always ways to manage.
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