Listening to Rem's sermon, Ragna's hand twitched and moved onto the sword grip but did not draw it. If he cut now, it would mean killing an already injured man. That wasn’t victory, it was the same as losing.
'Not now.'
Once he healed, killing him would be fine. Ragna exercised patience.
Jaxon briefly considered whether he should slit that bastard's throat before nightfall rather than waiting until dawn.
It would be satisfying to stab the solar plexus with Carmen’s stiletto or perhaps sever an ankle, both would work. But, of course, it was only a thought. He wouldn't actually kill him. Instead, what if he added a bit of laxative to the food? There was a concoction that caused endless diarrhea.
'No, that bastard’s stomach wouldn’t react to drugs.'
Westerners had strong stomachs, and Rem was one of the toughest. Even if not, he wouldn't eat food if he suspected it was tampered with. The chances were high that he would notice from the smell. Preparing a scentless drug would take too much effort, and wasting it on a barbarian seemed unnecessary.
"Lord."
Audin called upon the Lord without a hint of humor. This time, his invocation of ‘Lord’ was filled with pure wrath. It felt as though the God of War might descend any moment.
Golden ripples spread in waves from his ankles to his chest before fading.
The teachings of the sacred text preached to forgive even sinners who had paid for their crimes and to also forgive those who erred due to inadequacy.
This situation fell under the latter, even among its extreme cases. Audin decided to forgive Rem, who was clearly lacking in brainpower.
Rem’s face reflected satisfaction, having achieved his goal. After delivering his sermon, he spoke in his usual tone.
"Well, Captain, you're finally amusing. Hey, Lost Boy, address him as Deputy Commander from now on. As for the brute, call him Brother, not Big Guy. And you, stray cat, just stay out of my sight."
"There is no deputy commander."
Encrid immediately denied anything problematic.
"Ah, is that so? Let’s just say there isn’t."
Rem smiled and nodded as if it were of no consequence.
The three, having endured once, ignored Rem’s words. They had witnessed the impact of his antics and understood the danger.
And Rem was just the beginning. Each of them had hidden a trump card.
"It looks like you’ll be using all the medicine made from Druier’s leaves yourself."
After the sparring, or perhaps the skirmish or natural disaster—ended, Ann approached and spoke while applying various medicines to Encrid’s body.
Jaxon, observing from the side, asked a few questions, and to his surprise, Ann demonstrated deep knowledge of medicine. The two unexpectedly found common ground in their conversation.
As he received treatment, Encrid realized they didn’t seem to have a bad relationship.
He asked Jaxon, who was being unusually friendly, a playful question.
"Won’t your lover get mad?"
It was an out-of-nowhere joke, implying Jaxon was getting too close to Ann, a side effect of spending too much time with fairies. Jaxon, however, looked at him blankly before responding bluntly.
"All it takes is a poisoned dagger. I just have to get close before they draw their sword."
Encrid paused to think, recalling something Jaxon had said a couple of days ago about catching him from behind.
Back then, Encrid hadn’t thought much of it and was mildly surprised. But hearing this now, he started to understand.
'At that time, I wasn’t careless. Even if a dagger or arrow had come flying, I would have reacted. I could even hear that cross-eyed bastard twitching from a distance.'
The cross-eyed one had confirmed Encrid’s return and lingered for a couple of days nearby before leaving.
As a friend, that level of effort seemed sufficient. He hadn’t gone out of his way to be overly friendly or clingy.
"The cross-eyed one’s movements, as well as everything happening around me, were all within my perceptual range."
If necessary, or if his instincts reacted, he would have noticed. Yet, Jaxon had slipped past all those sensory threads and tapped him on the back.
'He got behind me.'
What if Jaxon had held a dagger laced with poison?
"That time, huh?"
"That time, yes."
It was a conversation only the two of them understood.
"What are you talking about?"
Ann asked, but neither explained further. There was too much to describe, from Silent Stab to methods of invading sensory territories.
Ann didn’t press further. Even if they explained, she doubted she’d understand, and truthfully, she wasn’t interested.
Her focus remained on crafting remedies and concocting medicines for all ailments—and on Ragna.
Encrid reflected on Jaxon’s words once more.
'Rem used a sling, ensuring the projectile would explode even if blocked. Jaxon claimed he could get behind me unnoticed.'
It felt different from sparring with Rem, but it was equally thrilling.
It resembled a game of tail-tag, where kids chase each other, trying to snatch a ribbon tied to their opponent’s back.
'The key is not letting my back get caught.'
A duel with Jaxon wasn’t about swordplay, it was about defeating him within the realm of sensory awareness.
Sparring with Rem was a matter of enduring his projectiles. In essence, they were both saying the same thing.
They hadn’t caught him yet.
They didn’t explicitly say it, but their intentions were clear without words.
Both of them had crossed a line and were pushing forward again.
How long had it been since he surpassed them, only for them to catch up and overtake him once more?
Rem was only the beginning. Next was Ragna. The moment Encrid’s body healed, he resumed his sparring with Ragna.
In short, Ragna was fully committed to dismantling Encrid’s swordsmanship.
Whoosh.
Sparring with Ragna was the opposite of sparring with Rem. Their blades barely clashed, keeping things quiet.
"What do you think?"
Ragna asked, his crimson eyes reflecting rare excitement. He was clearly enjoying himself.
He held his stance mid-swing, but there were no openings. His ordinary strike carried extraordinary finesse.
That finesse was visible even to the naked eye.
"How did you do it?"
"I did it with force."
Hearing that response, Encrid couldn’t help but feel slightly apologetic toward the fairy Ermen. Was that supposed to be an explanation?
"Does it work just by using force?"
"Yes, it does."
Ragna spoke as if it were obvious, and deep down, Encrid agreed. If there was no other option, you had to use whatever you had.
Ragna had temporarily doubled the size of his blade, creating an energy edge similar to the fairies’ aura blade and slashing with it.
Encrid, sensing death, had narrowly dodged the strike.
In short, this wasn’t for training.
"Is this really sparring?"
Encrid asked.
"Do you dislike it?"
Ragna countered.
Both Rem and Jaxon were maniacs, revealing their madness. Instead of practicing sparring techniques, they found ways to win at any cost.
There were no rules, no restrictions, only the will to advance and the desire to improve.
How could this not be exhilarating?
"No."
Encrid answered plainly, a smile spreading across his face.
Of course, he didn’t dislike it. Ragna’s sword was almost impossible to block or dodge. It could be called a wave-breaking blade.
'If I figure out what’s coating that blade, I’ll be able to block it too.'
Ragna himself didn’t seem to know how he was doing it. To uncover the mystery, Encrid would need to break it down, question, and analyze.
'Defining the system.'
This wasn’t the end, if anything, it was just the beginning. There was much to uncover ahead.
Finally, Audin approached with his solution. He had copied Encrid’s method exactly.
"It’s a way of blocking the downpour."
The approach might have differed slightly, but Audin used a method that fully withstood and countered the wave-breaking blade.
When he found himself at a disadvantage during their exchanges, he simply endured using his body. The divinely infused iron armor was sturdy enough to withstand Penna.
But then, in a similar fashion to the previous two, Audin used divine energy differently. Golden light condensed and formed a thick, leather-like shield.
'He compressed and layered it.'
Will was an intangible force. Could it even be condensed like that?
Doubt crept in, but his thoughts soon shifted.
'Thinking it’s impossible means nothing will ever be possible.'
If you believed it could be done, anything could be achieved.
Aker, a Knight of a past generation, had infused his Will into his sword, creating something akin to a cursed blade. His Will had partially become sentient, manifesting within the weapon.
'Will, sorcery, and divine energy are all capable of transformation.'
Endurance, when trained, became iron armor. Will had evolved to protect the body through reinforcement.
"There’s a stage where the power doesn’t dry up or deplete, known as Usque. And there’s a higher stage where the very nature of what you have changes, called Indules. These are ancient terms."
Encrid recalled Luagarne’s words. She had passed down ancient knowledge, which he could now revisit and redefine in his present understanding.
'Usque refers to an endless well, the quantity of willpower. Indules is...'
It wasn’t the quantity but the quality. A different form of Will. How was this achieved?
How could one awaken it, and how should it be understood? The road ahead seemed distant and shrouded in uncertainty.
Somewhere, the ferryman seemed to pop out and mock him.
"When will you master that? Will you die a thousand more times like before? Wear down and break apart. Trapped in this broken state, you’ll be stuck in today."
The ferryman’s taunts didn’t matter in the slightest. As always, Encrid was only excited.
'Indules.'
He had mastered Usque and manifested it through swordsmanship. But Indules remained an entirely unknown domain.
Thump.
His heart pounded. Euphoric energy surged, making him want to run wildly. His emotions swirled like a raging current, filling him with excitement and anticipation.
"Are you seriously planning to sleep under the stars? Why did you destroy a perfectly good shelter? I don’t understand. Well, I suppose I don’t need to understand. We’ll rebuild it. Let’s make it bigger this time. Until then, stay in the tent, it’ll be more comfortable, right?"
Krais’ voice was little more than background noise as he rambled on nearby.
"Are you even listening? No, you’re not. Great, another crazy moment."
Krais muttered before walking away. There were tasks to handle and permissions to seek, but in this state, Encrid wouldn’t hear a word anyway.
Encrid stood there, practicing downward slashes three hundred times. He had long held the habit of thinking through problems during simple training exercises.
He pondered and reflected. The process of visualizing new destinations and dreaming of possibilities brought him joy.
By nightfall, Encrid had calmed down somewhat and candidly shared his thoughts with his unit.
"This is genuine, you’re all insane."
It sounded like something Krang would say, spoken with sincerity.
Naturally, the entire unit was deeply offended.
"Captain, that’s not what we want to hear. Honestly."
Rem wasn’t angry but responded more seriously than ever.
"Begone, foul spirit. Lord, expel the demon lodged within this man’s mind."
Audin prayed, even calling Teresa over to sing hymns by his side.
Teresa nodded and immediately lent her voice to banishing the demon supposedly possessing Encrid.
"Who exactly are you calling crazy? Did Ann put poison in your medicine or something?"
Jaxon remarked, noting the feverish enthusiasm and joy in Encrid’s eyes.
Without ingesting some kind of toxin, it didn’t make sense for him to behave this way. Then again, this was typical for him, sudden skill improvements, bursts of madness.
It wasn’t surprising, but being grouped with barbarians and the like was irritating.
Jaxon skillfully maneuvered away and shoved Lawford forward.
"Not me. I’m perfectly fine."
Lawford denied it, while Pel muttered something about madness being a form of talent.
Hearing that, Lawford replied,
"Yeah, then you must be a genius because you’re already insane."
Their glares clashed sharply.
Esther, in panther form, sat atop the roof, resting her chin on her paws as she watched. Nearby, Luagarne was grilling larvae beside a tent near the ruined barracks.
The roasted larvae had a sweetness surpassing honey, so she planned to eat them all herself. Not that anyone else was asking for any.
As she roasted the larvae on wooden skewers, Luagarne puffed her cheeks and smiled.
"Did you really have to say it out loud?"
Her point was obvious: truth was always bitter, but if you didn’t voice it, you could hide it.
"Are you calling me crazy? I don’t think so. Well, considering the bizarre things they did during sparring, I guess it’s possible."
Ragna’s final comment triggered another commotion.
"Huh? Are you saying you want to die? The captain’s arms, but you’re the head, Lost Boy."
"I’ll cut you down before you even get close."
"Want to try?"
"Go ahead."
Rem and Jaxon began arguing.
"Stop bragging about talent. If you set limits from the start, you’ll never surpass them."
"Oh, I’m fine, I have limitless talent. Is that what’s bothering you? Don’t worry, I understand. I won’t mention it to your trainees."
Pel mimicked zipping his lips, which made Lawford flinch.
Why had this bastard’s speech improved? His provocations had changed. He used to be similar to himself, but now he was different.
"Do you want to die?"
"There aren’t many people who actually want to die, but you’re one of them, huh?"
Pel expertly retorted.
It was clear, he had improved. The reason? It had to be their journey with Encrid. He must have learned along the way back.
Lawford, realizing this, briefly looked at Encrid with mild resentment before shrugging it off.
At first, he had questioned why Pel had received special training, but now it seemed like no big deal.
He could just catch up.
Luagarne ate her roasted larvae while Jaxon, from somewhere, began carving a piece of wood.
As he scraped and shaped it, thin wood shavings fell beneath his hands.
Watching all of this, Encrid chuckled softly. A thought crossed his mind.
He genuinely liked this place, this role, and these people.
Among them, no one mocked another’s dreams. If they felt inadequate, they trained. It was natural. They didn’t resort to jealousy or underhanded methods to win.
To them, this was normal.
But was it really? How long had he wandered to obtain this?
How many people had envied, insulted, or mocked him?
That thought lingered. The kind of Knight order Encrid had longed for and dreamed of, it was right here.
Which is why—
"How about walking the path of a paladin? You must have faith in God."
Someone asked the next day.
With unwavering determination, Encrid shook his head.
"Who are you again?"
"My foster father, Brother."
He was a guest from the Border Guard, someone Encrid had encountered when visiting the fairy city.
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