Encrid knew that swinging his sword a few times wouldn’t suddenly lead to some grand revelation.
So, he would move forward slowly, one step at a time. For now, it started with a name.
‘Let’s call it Flow.’
He decided.
Its foundation was based on Oara’s Connecting Sword, but its goal was different.
‘To move naturally in every moment.’
The meaning was akin to a river that flows endlessly without pause.
The technique’s implementation involved swinging the sword as naturally as breathing.
And the training method?
Here, Encrid hit a wall. As always, he reached the limit of his talent, but instead of frustration, it brought him joy.
Even when the wall was invisible, the thrill of being able to overcome it defined Encrid’s madness.
Now, the wall was visible and within reach. And this was just the beginning. He had already glimpsed what lay beyond, a path his comrades had already started walking.
It wasn’t about quantity but about changing the quality.
The realization sent chills down his spine, electrifying his heart and flooding his mind with exhilaration.
‘Ah.’
He was thrilled beyond reason.
Of course, he didn’t have a clear path forward yet, and all he could do was swing his sword.
So that’s exactly what he did. He swung his sword tirelessly, stubbornly, and without finesse.
Since it was the only thing he knew, he did it wholeheartedly, with a smile on his face.
Like a child experiencing their first love, he simply swung his sword.
"Isn’t that guy insane?"
Beside him, the Ragged Saint asked, deeply concerned.
Why was he talking to himself and then suddenly swinging his sword with a creepy smile?
Honestly, it was frightening.
Encrid didn’t hear the saint’s mutterings, but everyone around him nodded in agreement.
"That’s just how he is."
Rem said.
"He’ll snap out of it, don’t worry too much."
Ragna added.
"It’s temporary."
Audin reassured.
The Ragged Saint scoffed, unable to hold back his thoughts.
‘You’re not ones to talk.’
He had only recently met Encrid, but he had watched Rem and Ragna countless times. He had also witnessed his foster son change.
It was amusing to see people who once fought as if they would kill each other now cooperating.
Why was this possible? The answer was obvious, the lunatic grinning and swinging his sword ahead of them.
‘A central figure, huh?’
Everything revolved around that one man.
The Knight Order, the city, and the people.
Impressive? Yes.
The presence of a madman like him made it possible for all these unique individuals to coexist.
As he watched Encrid, countless thoughts stirred in the saint’s mind.
Regret and remorse mixed in.
What if he had had someone like that as a central figure in his youth?
Someone who could have united him and Overdeer under one purpose?
Someone whom everyone could recognize as a leader?
He had once known someone like that, a man blessed by the gods, who could inspire others and wield Divine Power with unmatched skill, much like Audin today.
He had been a younger brother at times and an older brother at others. He knew how to command authority and how to care for people. He had charisma, leadership, and charm.
But his ambition had matched his talents.
Would things have been different if he had protected him when he became pope?
The Ragged Saint already knew the answer.
‘Nothing would have changed.’
And so, regret was all that remained.
In the end, it was Legion that drove him away and Legion that corrupted him.
The greatest genius Legion had ever produced lost his family, lost his lover, and left, seeking revenge in the Demon Realm.
He didn’t shed tears or scream. He calmly abandoned everything and left.
"If this is the will of the gods, then I reject it."
Those were his last words.
‘He was a fool.’
He had been too exceptional to sit on the pope’s throne.
Jealousy was inevitable, and many sought to bring him down.
As a result, Overdeer had abandoned his opinions and vowed to do whatever the next pope wanted.
The regret tore at the Ragged Saint’s heart, and he realized something profound.
‘It wasn’t about Divine Power. It was about someone who could embrace others. Someone who could sacrifice.’
Someone everyone could recognize needed to have those qualities.
The crusaders could handle the fighting, and those who knew how could wield Divine Power.
They didn’t need to be on good terms with everyone, but they needed to be acknowledged for their character, not just their skills.
‘Ha.’
The Ragged Saint knew himself well, he wasn’t suited for the role of pope.
He lacked the responsibility, and his temperament was better suited to saving a sick child right in front of him.
The Holy Nation needed someone different, just as the Border Guard needed someone like Encrid.
Someone who didn’t dominate or command from above, but led through action.
‘He’s not a king.’
He served a different purpose.
"So, his dream is to be a Knight?"
He asked Audin, though he already knew the answer.
It was something he had heard before.
Technically, Encrid aspired to be the kind of Knight found in ballads sung by bards.
It wasn’t something the saint could mock, he had lived similarly himself.
Seeing Encrid walk through the city, he understood. Encrid wielded his sword to protect those behind him.
That was all there was to it. And that simple fact had brought him this far.
Which made him a madman.
"A truly outrageous man."
With that short realization, the Ragged Saint knelt and began to pray.
He prayed for forgiveness for past mistakes and regrets. He prayed for the madman’s future to be bright.
He clasped his hands and sought his lord.
"You know, praying won’t erase what you just said. I don’t care who you are, noble or otherwise."
Rem muttered, casually resting his hand on his axe.
Hadn’t this saint just compared him and the others to that lunatic Encrid?
Technically, he had said it wasn’t their place to criticize him, but to Rem, it sounded like they were all being called madmen.
And that sounded like a challenge.
In the West, elders were respected, but this old man wasn’t from the West, so it didn’t matter.
"Isn’t he right, barbarian brother?"
Audin intervened, diffusing the situation.
"A stray cat always sides with the wildcat."
Rem went beyond just resting his hand on his axe, he actually gripped it. The descending weapon responded to the warmth of his hand.
He didn’t really intend to use it, but the threat was more than enough.
"It’s not like you guys have the right to say anything."
Ragna added, stopping the fight by throwing in his remark. The comment conveniently excluded himself.
"You really have no awareness, you directionless bastard. You’re included in this too, you lazy fool."
Rem retorted.
With those words, he drew his axe and swung it. His wrist powered a downward slash, as if the axe had grown directly from his arm, making the weapon and body one.
Ragna, naturally, drew his sword to block it. He pulled out his greatsword as easily as one would a dagger, stopping the axe with the half-drawn blade.
Clang!
Sparks flew, igniting the fire in the eyes of the two fierce beasts.
"You mad brothers."
Audin muttered as he intervened, concerned his foster father might get hurt. He thrust his fist, cloaked in golden light like compacted sand.
Rem leaped aside at the sight of it, while Ragna raised his sword vertically as a shield and retreated.
The three clashed repeatedly, circling around the torn-up training ground.
Nearby, Encrid muttered to himself as he swung his sword, while Lawford and Pel watched and shook their heads before making eye contact and starting a fight of their own.
"What are you looking at?"
Lawford asked.
"Not your rotting eyes."
Pel replied.
"How about I pluck one out today? You won’t need both."
That’s how their conversation went.
Luagarne, seeing the chaos, felt inspired and grabbed Teresa.
"Half-giant, if your skills have improved, why don’t we have some fun?"
"Not a bad proposal, sister."
Teresa’s voice resonated with a unique depth and clarity, more powerful than before.
It was a voice that could strike the heartstrings.
Meanwhile, the Ragged Saint knelt nearby, adorned in gemstones, quietly offering prayers. It was just another ordinary day.
A few days later, Lawford handed over his position as basic training instructor to a Squire named Clemen, who had recently fallen during training.
"Do I really have to do this?"
Clemen asked, unsure.
"Yes, you do."
Lawford confirmed.
Clemen was officially a Squire of the Mad Knights.
Encrid had taught her a few times and knew how fierce her determination was.
He liked that about her.
For today, Lawford, Pel, and even others had canceled their schedules. It was all at Encrid’s request.
Perhaps it was what one might call a "day of promise".
Encrid woke early and diligently stretched.
‘Good.’
He thought.
Spring had fully arrived, but the early morning air was still chilly. He liked the slight cold, the way sweat began to form as he moved, and how his body warmed up.
Audin had joined him before dawn, training alongside him using the Isolation Technique. Not long after sunrise, Lawford and Pel appeared.
Encrid didn’t believe that sheer force of will could achieve anything, but he had consistently trained and worked through his tasks, one by one.
He had established a system and categorized temperaments in his mind.
Now, standing before him were two individuals with perfectly opposing temperaments: Lawford and Pel.
They were excellent test subjects.
"Don’t you both want to become Knights?"
Encrid asked, though the question was rhetorical. Both Lawford and Pel trained relentlessly every day.
Why else would they be doing this?
"Do I even need to answer?"
Pel replied first.
Lawford nodded solemnly.
"Yes."
On the way here, Encrid had thought long and hard.
Could the system he had established open the path to knighthood?
It was time to answer that question.
Unbeknownst to him, other martial organizations had walked this path before.
Considering the devastation Knights could cause on the battlefield, it would have been strange if they hadn’t.
Naurillia had also wanted to try something similar, but things had gotten complicated with Count Molsen, cultists, and bandits interfering, preventing them from even attempting it.
But recently, it felt as if they had not only caught their breath but were also experiencing a brief period of peace.
"I guess they really did wipe out the cultists. The stragglers have disappeared, and even the number of monsters has decreased."
Krais had remarked while observing the continent’s political landscape.
Then he added,
"I could live like this forever."
Krais had grown up seeing battlefields and demon realms from a young age. For people like him, this peace must have felt unfamiliar.
Even though it was peace won by the sword, and he had played a role in it, it still felt strange.
With the current situation, focusing on fostering talent was the right move. Krais had predicted this in advance, which was why he had supported troop development.
Of course, even he hadn’t expected the cultists to be wiped out so thoroughly.
In this era, where quality mattered more than quantity, developing Knights was the priority for any military organization.
Lawford and Pel, visibly tense, stood at the center, surrounded by Encrid, Rem, Audin, and others.
From a distance, it looked as though they were being encircled and trapped.
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