The demon, One-Killer, widened the distance between them. Just two steps—neither too short nor too long.
It was the kind of interval that allowed for half a breath. Though in the heat of battle, there wouldn’t be time to breathe, so perhaps even "half a breath" wasn’t an accurate description.
Encrid didn’t make any effort to close the gap the demon had created. He didn’t follow after it. Instead, he made full use of the time the demon had given him.
He began analyzing, asking himself questions and finding answers, reinterpreting the situation through intuition, and drawing on the library of experiences stored in his mind.
Though a process like this might seem time-consuming, his accelerated thinking allowed him to do it all in an instant.
First question:
‘Do I need rest at this point?’
It was a question meant for self-assessment, a method he often used to examine himself objectively.
‘Rest would help, sure.’
He wasn’t in peak condition, having had no proper rest. But it wasn’t as though he couldn’t keep going.
‘This is good enough.’
The self-check was complete. What next?
“Survey the situation before you fight. Don’t just charge in like a madman."
It was advice Krais had given him once. Encrid selectively remembered only the parts of Krais’ words that aligned with what he wanted to hear.
‘Assess your surroundings before engaging in a fight.’
Krais probably hadn’t meant it in this exact way, but meaning was what mattered. If it worked, that was enough.
Not ignoring environmental factors was something Luagarne had often emphasized. Fortunately, Encrid had already done this before the One-Killer appeared.
‘Solid stone floor, heavy air, the pressure of the Demon Realm, corpses of the monsters killed earlier, black blood pooling in one spot. The space is vast with no other structures. It’s essentially a large stone arena. The only potential hindrance…’
‘...was the group of fairies, Sinar, Frog, and the single human present.’
He couldn’t use them as projectiles or weapons, and if the demon turned its attention to them, they would need to be protected.
Nothing here is advantageous.
Yes, everything worked against him. But perhaps that’s what made it so exhilarating.
Unconsciously, Encrid smiled.
To any observer, it would seem like the grin of a madman. But to Encrid, who reveled in combat and skill improvement, his joy was natural.
"The best way to win an unwinnable fight is to change the environment in your favor before engaging."
That was advice from Avnair.
"Secure advantages before you fight."
Creating a favorable situation seemed impossible in the current circumstances. So at the very least, he needed to reduce the disadvantages.
"If that’s not possible, then do whatever you can to gain even the smallest advantage."
Avnair had added.
Those words had been his answer when Encrid had pressed his to consider extreme scenarios.
His mind raced, weighing bold moves against more cautious ones. From his library of experiences, he pulled what he needed for the moment.
‘If provoking the enemy could disrupt its composure, that would help.’
But there were no visible emotional triggers in the demon. It seemed devoid of emotion, like an automaton. Provocation would be futile.
The One-Killer began moving. Its glowing orange body shifted with a smooth, gliding motion, dragging its feet across the ground as it repositioned itself, its bladed arms hanging loosely.
To an untrained eye, its movements seemed meaningless. But Encrid saw purpose in every step.
If the chill wind of death were given form, it would move like this.
He studied the demon further, distilling his observations into even sharper, more concise insights.
‘It’s like a finely honed blade.’
And why did it appear that way? Because of what it embodied.
The demon was a collection of pure, single-minded murderous intent. It existed for no other purpose than to kill.
A being of pure malice, it was a tool of death that moved on its own.
Encrid defined his opponent. Through that definition, he anticipated how it would react.
‘It will cut, stab, and kill anything in its path.’
It didn’t matter who its opponent was. That was its nature.
By defining the demon, Encrid could read its intent and reflect on his own experiences to determine what to do next.
Thud.
Encrid stamped his foot onto the ground. The force cracked the stone, sending up a puff of dust.
"Look at me, you bastard."
Encrid growled, adding a Deceptive Slash to his words, emitting an aura of compressed intent. Lowering the tip of his silver sword slightly to aim at the demon, he made his message clear:
–Look at me. Send your malice toward me. Focus on me!
The demon complied, its intent coiling around him. Its murderous aura transformed into needles, all targeting Encrid alone.
This was a scene visible only in the realm of heightened perception, where instincts and sixth senses reigned.
It felt like an arrow drawn taut on a bowstring, its tip aimed directly at his brow.
Encrid’s lips twitched into a smile. It wasn’t a dark grin but a pure expression of exhilaration, a surge of joy that filled his entire body.
‘An advantage.’
If the demon focused solely on him, he could negate his disadvantages.
By drawing its attention, he could protect what needed protecting. He was pleased that his plan had worked.
Even more, he was thrilled that the demon acknowledged him as an equal. Such a formidable opponent didn’t disregard him. The countless hours of effort he had spent honing his skills were being rewarded.
The joy was overwhelming, bordering on euphoria.
Bang!
The demon lunged, its knees bending just before it launched itself forward, blade slashing down.
Encrid sensed the attack and parried it.
Clang!
The sound of their blades clashing seemed to arrive just before the actual impact, his heightened perception and Will giving him insight into the immediate future.
The demon’s right blade came first, followed by its left in a swift, stabbing motion.
Encrid twisted his left ankle outward, performing an acrobatic move no ordinary human could replicate.
Though his footwork seemed awkward due to the extreme flexibility of his joints, he maintained perfect balance.
The result was a sidestep that avoided the blade, his body bending like a flag swaying in the wind.
He didn’t merely evade. While dodging, his left hand thrust forward, a burst of flame aimed at the demon’s neck.
Clang!
The attack was blocked.
Their weapons, their malice, and their hostility collided in a fiery exchange. Blow after blow followed in rapid succession.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
In the air between them, silver and orange blades sparked as they met and parted like quarreling lovers.
Encrid’s accelerated thoughts spurred him on.
‘I can’t find an opening.’
The demon’s movements weren’t premeditated but instinctual, making them difficult to predict. Though he could gain advantages through strategic maneuvers, landing a decisive blow was nearly impossible.
And yet, he had avoided taking a single hit.
To any observer, the battle would have seemed like an incredible spectacle. Encrid’s contorted movements, the demon’s seamless attacks, and their unrelenting pace were almost beyond comprehension.
"Ah..."
The demon wasn’t a Knight. Yet it fought with the skill of one.
How could he not be exhilarated?
Clang!
After 187 exchanges, Encrid decided to gamble.
The demon crossed its blades, sweeping horizontally with the left and thrusting off-beat with the right.
The movement was reminiscent of the Valen Dual Sword Technique, so Encrid recognized it immediately.
Feigning a counter, he disrupted the rhythm the demon had created.
The gamble began with him pretending to block with his left hand before suddenly releasing his sword, delaying the demon’s response.
It was a reckless move, throwing reason out the window.
Who in their right mind would drop their weapon to block a blade with their bare hand?
The demon, a being of pure murderous intent, operated on strict logic. Its thought process was bound by reason.
That’s why Encrid’s madness worked.
The accelerated calculations in his mind had produced this answer.
It wasn’t a perfect solution. But it wasn’t wrong either.
The demon’s thought process wasn’t delayed, so Encrid’s move wasn’t entirely successful.
Though he managed to grab and hold the demon’s blade with his hand, the grinding sound of its edge tearing through his reinforced gauntlet echoed sharply.
The demon’s thrusting blade managed to pierce his stomach, though Encrid twisted his body slightly to avoid any critical damage to his organs.
At the same time, Encrid’s silver sword struck the demon’s horizontally swinging blade and continued its trajectory, slicing through the demon’s neck.
Clang. Flick. Thud.
Everything happened in an instant.
‘We’re evenly matched.’
If they were to fight again, neither could guarantee victory. That’s why the one who initiated the decisive moment would always have the upper hand.
‘An advantage.’
Encrid had seized one, setting the tempo of the confrontation and projecting his intent first.
Because their skills were so evenly matched, Encrid knew that if the demon divided its strength between its two blades, it wouldn’t be able to block his silver sword when he wielded it with his full force.
Ironically, the fight had taught him a crucial lesson: wielding two blades against a truly formidable opponent was a bad idea.
The demon itself was living proof of this.
‘If its arms weren’t both blades—if only one was—it would have beaten me.’
Realizing this, Encrid acknowledged that the demon might have had the upper hand.
Still, a win was a win.
"It’s not over."
Sinar’s voice cut sharply through the tension, her words laced with urgency.
The One-Killer, despite having its neck severed, pulled back its blade and swung it downward. Encrid instinctively leapt back.
The blade, still lodged in his stomach, slid out with a sickening squelch. Blood gushed from the wound.
‘It’s not fatal.’
Though he was bleeding, he calculated that he could end the fight quickly before the blood loss overwhelmed him. He clenched his abdominal muscles to slow the bleeding, using a technique Audin had taught him. He could still fight. He had to.
But then, something unexpected happened.
What’s this?
Encrid felt something spreading from the wound in his stomach. It wasn’t exactly poison, he didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was, it was rapidly taking over his entire body.
It was as if he had swallowed freezing water on an empty stomach, the chilling sensation coursing through him, but this wasn’t cold—it was something far worse.
From the outside, the change in Encrid was evident. His eyes began to boil, their color darkening to a blood-red hue.
"Enki!"
Luagarne’s shout reached him.
The sound of Pel drawing his sword and the fairies rushing forward reached his ears too, but Encrid’s vision was already darkening. It felt like his sight was being swallowed by black water.
Why?
"Ah, demon, you only needed to inflict a wound."
Sinar’s voice echoed faintly.
Everything about the demon’s movements so far flashed through his mind.
The realization struck him like lightning, pieced together by his accelerated thoughts.
The One-Killer’s goal had never been to avoid death.
It didn’t matter if its neck was severed because that wouldn’t kill it.
The demon’s ability was clear now.
‘Even a scratch is enough to kill its opponent.’
What had spread through his body wasn’t poison. If it were just poison, his body would have mounted some form of resistance. But this—this was something else entirely.
‘So that’s why it has two blades.’
It didn’t even need one, let alone two. If anything, its body probably hid other weapons too.
Encrid’s thoughts didn’t finish. He felt something dripping from his eyes, and an unimaginable pain shot through him, from his head to his toes, as if his skull was being crushed.
Darkness descended. Death was upon him. It felt as though his head was being plunged into a black, viscous river, drowning in its depths.
The river of death welcomed him.
Splash.
And so did its keeper.
The keeper didn’t smile, but it seemed as though it did. To Encrid, it looked that way.
"Welcome, prisoner. This prison will be quite enjoyable for you, won’t it?"
And indeed, it would.
Encrid nodded reflexively.
For now, there were no answers. Before him stood a towering, impenetrable wall—dark, high, and thick. Yet, he agreed with the sentiment.
The higher the wall, the greater the thrill when it was overcome.
"What’s there to say?"
Encrid replied.
The ferryman wasn’t surprised. It was what he had expected.
"Fine. Go on, give it another shot."
There was no need for a lengthy conversation. The ferryman waved him off, a clear gesture to be on his way.
Encrid returned to the world illuminated by a violet lamp.
Today would repeat itself. It was time to enter the prison where the demon, his jailer, awaited him.
He opened his eyes.
He was back at the dark passage, just moments before reuniting with Sinar.
The brief rest when he had nodded off and met the ferryman felt deliberate, as if the ferryman had chosen this moment as the starting point for today.
Whether intentional or not, it didn’t matter to Encrid.
If he were the type to give up when faced with a bleak situation, he would never have made it this far.
Whatever trap the ferryman had laid, it wasn’t his concern. Especially if it was something he couldn’t change.
And so, as always, he pressed forward.
"Let’s go."
Encrid stepped into the new today with a demeanor nearly identical to the yesterday before it.
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