Aspen and the Holy Nation also attempted to cultivate Knights, but they only realized the clear limitations of shortcuts.
Of course, to ordinary soldiers, those created through shortcuts would still be a disaster, but they could never be a match for true Knights.
Encrid, unaware of these background circumstances, chose the straightforward path.
He had some inkling of it, but it wasn't something he needed to concern himself with.
He moved according to the theory he had established upon the path he had walked.
Lawford and Pel stood in front of him, their mouths firmly shut as they stared at him.
"If I ask again, your answer will be the same, right?"
Encrid asked once more. Reinforcing one's resolve is always the right thing to do.
"Yes. I want this."
"Even if you ask three times, my answer will be the same. If you're worried about talent, then yes, I understand why you'd see it that way. But I won't stop here, either."
Lawford answered plainly, while Pel, though a bit flustered, responded with determination.
Encrid nodded as if it didn't matter.
Lawford clenched his teeth. Though he had lost in provoking techniques, he had no intention of losing in this.
If there was a path to becoming a Knight, he would take it. He would endure any training.
Lawford's resolve shone like the stars.
Pel was no different.
'I have talent, too. Maybe not as much as the captain, but still.'
The Idol Slayer was said to be a sword that ultimately devoured its wielder.
Yet he had chosen to grasp this sword because he believed he could withstand it.
So, he would prove it. Would the Shepherd of the Wilderness stop here?
Perseverance and endurance were the basic virtues of a shepherd. His resolve was firm.
Anyone could see it.
Encrid calmly collected his thoughts and spoke.
"Put down your swords."
"...What?"
Lawford, who had been tense, responded to the sudden statement.
"Disarm yourselves."
Encrid repeated.
At those words, the two felt a vague sense of unease.
Pel and Lawford exchanged glances. Was it barehanded training? The Isolation Technique? They had already done plenty of that.
In the meantime, Ann entered the training ground that morning.
"Why are you calling a busy person?"
"I'm calling you to do your job."
"What the hell are you planning to do?"
Following Ann, Seiki arrived as well, walking with light, bouncy steps.
Alongside her was the Ragged Saint.
"If I instruct them, their skills will improve faster."
The saint said.
What exactly was he going to instruct?
"I'll go first, then."
Seiki responded.
What was she going to do first?
At the same time, Audin arrived beside Encrid, carrying an iron club.
It only seemed small in Audin’s hands, in reality, it was thicker than most grown men’s arms.
And he wasn’t holding it alone. Rem had one, too.
"I was against this."
Then came Luagarne's voice.
"I chose to walk a different path."
Teresa added.
Lawford felt the same ominous intuition as when his mother called him after discovering the bedsheets he had peed on as a child.
This was bad.
Pel felt the same. It reminded him of the time he was caught stealing aged cheese from the elder back when he was a shepherd.
This was really bad.
Both of their instincts screamed danger.
"You said your resolve was firm, so if you try to run, we'll beat you and bring you back. Ragna, Jaxon."
"Understood."
"I won't cut off their legs."
The voices of Ragna and Jaxon came from behind them. Their escape route was blocked.
Lawford turned his head and met Ragna’s eyes.
He knew well how unrelenting Ragna was in duels.
And now, Ragna looked at him with something close to pity.
"Sir Ragna?"
"Accept it."
Ragna dismissed Lawford's question.
Pel knew this was his last chance.
"Run!"
He shouted, but it was already too late.
What could they do when the main force of the Mad Knights had gathered?
Soon, they disarmed themselves, stripped down to a single thin layer of clothing, and even removed their boots before standing in front of Encrid.
Rem, holding his club, grinned.
"Ah, man, I really hate this. I hate this so much. I seriously don't want to do this, but what can I do?"
"It is for the sake of our two brothers."
Audin replied.
"We'll start with full-body strikes."
Encrid declared.
"...Excuse me?"
Pel refused to accept reality.
"Audin."
"Yes, brother. I'm ready."
Everything began by drawing Will from the unconscious.
Getting beaten all over their bodies would bring it out.
Encrid firmly believed in that.
If they were beaten nearly to death, it would be even more effective.
"Are you all insane?"
Pel protested once more.
Lawford lowered his head, resigning himself to his fate.
At that moment, Encrid clearly saw the difference in their personalities.
Lawford, after calculating the situation, realized early that escape was impossible.
Pel, despite instinctively knowing the same, still denied it.
Smack!
"Urgh!"
Pel's legs buckled from a single strike.
It was a precisely measured blow.
Rem had trained with relentless determination to surpass Encrid, and his control over his strength was perfect.
Audin, who had frequently pounded Encrid’s body in training, was more than experienced in this.
Whack!
A club swung and struck Lawford’s shoulder.
Smack!
"Argh!"
A pained groan escaped Lawford’s mouth.
And then, the clubs rained down on the two Junior-Knights.
After a long session of beating, Rem spoke.
"This isn't the establishment of a system, it's the establishment of corporal punishment."
It was just like Rem to say something like that after thoroughly delivering the beatings.
He wasn’t wrong, either.
‘You should have said that before swinging, you barbarian bastard.’
For a brief moment, Lawford and Pel’s thoughts aligned, though they didn’t voice them.
The next day was the same. And the day after that, too.
"If you want to quit, the option is always open."
Encrid even extended an invitation to Teresa.
"I'm fine, thank you."
Teresa refused without hesitation.
Not because her resolve was lacking.
She had already found her own path.
Her way was completely different from theirs.
Beating the body was simply meant to enhance one's senses.
If that was the case, then being bludgeoned with clubs was unnecessary.
Afterward, Encrid guided the two along their path.
It wasn’t empty words like “I wish you strength.”
Only those who had walked up the mountain could say such things.
And Encrid had not only walked but also paved the path and placed signposts along the way.
"Are you going to counter Pel’s brilliant moves in the same way? Defend in your own style."
Encrid said to Lawford before turning to Pel.
"The same goes for you. Don't try to predict Lawford's calculations. Instead, overturn the board itself. Whether you use raw physical ability or something unexpected, just do it."
The point was simple.
"There’s no need to give a bow to someone who’s good at swordplay."
Listening from the side, Rem nodded.
"True. That’s why I gave all my men axes. They suit them."
It might have sounded forced, but he wasn’t wrong.
Rem’s unit looked reckless, but they had incredible breakthrough power.
Even Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon listened to Encrid's words.
Lethality, endurance, versatility, those were the broad categories.
Then came the distinction between skill-based and training-based fighters.
'Or perhaps dividing it by instinct and calculation would be better.'
Or maybe instinct and calculation should be part of the categorization itself.
No theory was ever perfect.
One could only refine them step by step to forge a path.
"Are you sure about this?"
Pel, covered in bruises, asked.
Even if Encrid had not been influenced by the fairies, he was still an honest man. Especially when there was no need to lie.
"No."
"Then?"
"I believe it will work."
Pel ground his teeth, producing a grating sound.
"If I get stronger than you, just wait and see."
The childish grudge in those words was almost as potent as a malevolent spirit.
If Pel died right now, it felt like he would be reborn as a vengeful specter that devoured demons.
'A vengeance spirit?'
No, that wasn’t right. Encrid thought for a moment and then shook his head inwardly.
Lawford, looking infinitely gloomy, resigned himself, then rekindled his determination.
From Encrid’s perspective, Lawford might have appeared indifferent, but he had a strong aversion to losing.
‘Personality could be used to classify tendencies.’
That was how he had divided fighters into training-oriented and technique-oriented.
Pel spent his time mastering techniques, while Lawford dedicated himself more to physical training. Neither approach was inherently superior.
Lawford was a silent, steadfast type who disliked revealing things. Pel, on the other hand, openly discussed talent and flaunted everything, which was why he was drawn to the technical aspects.
‘Their swordsmanship reflects instinct versus calculation.’
They were perfect test subjects.
By coincidence, they were complete opposites in temperament yet constantly conscious of one another.
Even if the current training didn't serve as a roadmap to knighthood, it would still yield results.
‘At the very least, they’ll learn Iron Armor.’
Normally, that was something only Knights could use.
‘They need to learn it at the Junior-Knight level.’
Future Sight, Iron Armor, Hardened Frame, all of it.
‘Mastering those techniques is the key to instinctively wielding Will.’
It was the path to knighthood, no, the prerequisite for becoming a Knight. It was a fundamental requirement.
Encrid was learning as he taught. And these two were already somewhat prepared.
‘Except for Iron Armor.’
So, he just had to fill in the gaps.
Whether or not one learned Future Sight depended on their disposition, but they still needed to grasp the basics.
Beyond that, they needed Hardened Frame and Iron Armor.
Hardened Frame was the most striking skill in Encrid’s memory.
How could he forget the moment he first saw a Junior-Knight launch forward on the battlefield?
Lawford and Pel already knew Hardened Frame, though they weren’t skilled at it.
So, strengthening that skill was also part of their training.
It was just a matter of training their thigh muscles until they were on the verge of tearing, then repeating the process.
Midway through, Lawford made a request.
"I want to pass this special training method to my subordinates."
Encrid wasn't yet certain if his training methods were a sure path to knighthood. However, he did believe they were beneficial for everyone.
‘At this level...’
This was only the introductory phase of his training regimen. Sharing knowledge built structure and elevated overall skill levels.
Unintentionally, the Border Guard Reserve Unit was already heading in that direction.
Though, at this point, they were no longer the Reserve Unit but rather the Madmen Platoon.
"If a system exists, one can follow the path. Even if it can't surpass talent, it can at least pursue it."
As Encrid spoke, he reaffirmed the meaning of his words. It was something that required time.
For some, it might even be a tedious endeavor.
But Encrid simply repeated each day with unshaken resolve. That was his greatest strength.
"You don't seem bored, but how about sparring with me?"
One morning, Esther appeared in human form for training.
Dueling a wizard was a different experience, but Encrid wasn’t uninterested. There was no reason to refuse.
He nodded, and Esther immediately urged him to follow.
"Audin, handle today’s training."
"As you wish, Brother."
Encrid entrusted Lawford and Pel to Audin.
Esther was dressed in her usual robes and carried a long staff. It was the first time Encrid had seen her with one.
She had only acquired it after he gifted her a relic from an Apostle he had looted.
Some of the metal from that relic was repurposed for her staff, while another portion had been given to Eitri.
"I received this well. So, consider this as payment for that."
As they left the city, Esther spoke.
Encrid felt she was somewhat embarrassed. But that didn’t suit a witch, so he assumed it was just his imagination.
Understanding the emotions of fairies or witches was never easy.
The two made their way toward the mountains.
Along the way, a soldier stationed at a watchtower recognized them and saluted.
"Keep up the good work."
Encrid greeted him as he passed, while Esther didn't even glance at him.
"Do you remember how to fight a wizard?"
"Yeah. If you see them, cut them down immediately."
"Now, let’s see how you handle a prepared wizard."
Hmm?
As soon as Esther spoke, Encrid felt his senses distort. She suddenly seemed much farther away than she actually was.
At the same time, he saw a mud golem emerge from the ground, grabbing at his foot.
Only its hands, head, and shoulders protruded from the earth, clasping his ankle.
Disrupting perception and restraining movement, simple yet effective tactics.
The moment Encrid realized what was happening, he reacted. He slashed at the mud golem’s wrist.
Penna emitted a pale blue glow as it severed the construct’s wrist.
The mud should have scattered into the air and disappeared. Instead, it clumped together and transformed into a net.
‘This is unexpected.’
Future Sight didn’t activate.
His opponent was a wizard, an agent of change. Thus, it was only natural.
"Magic always seeks change. If your opponent can predict that change, you might as well put down your staff and quit. Though, forcing them to see it but still making it unavoidable is fun, too."
Esther’s voice came from somewhere.
Encrid didn't respond with words, instead, he swung Penna.
He planted his feet firmly and watched as the net came flying toward him.
He recalled the sensation of slashing Walking Fire.
‘Should I dodge? No, I won’t.’
If Esther sought unexpected changes, the best strategy was to maintain control over the situation.
Magic and spells had distinct textures. Like scents, they were intangible yet present. Present, yet difficult to define.
But through perception, he could recognize those textures. After countless days of cutting down spells, this was the result.
Instead of moving recklessly, Encrid raised his right arm and traced lines up and down with his sword, slicing through the spell.
The net, which had transformed from mud into sticky webbing, was severed.
Penna’s cutting power was not nullified by magic.
Esther continued chanting, launching more spells.
‘Indeed...’
Through observation, she understood.
Ever since he cut down Walking Fire, Encrid had learned to perceive the textures of spells.
He instinctively targeted and disrupted the gaps in magic, rendering most spells ineffective.
‘Spell Severing.’
If he refined this skill, he could even suppress magic entirely.
‘A non-mage suppressing magic?’
This sparring match was practically helping him achieve that.
If Encrid ever became her enemy, she was essentially handing him a fatal tool. Yet, it didn’t bother her.
Of course, other witches or wizards would be horrified.
But if they were, Esther would just mock them.
If spell severing existed, then the solution was to research new spells that could overcome it. What was the point of preventing the spread of knowledge?
‘Idiots.’
She knew people had fought over such reasons for centuries.
But that wasn’t her concern.
Encrid trained with Esther once a week.
And soon, rumors spread within the barracks—The Black Flower had won.
Then, when spring was in full bloom, Sinar returned.
"The Golden Witch has returned."
Her title remained the same.
Golden hair and green eyes locked onto Encrid.
Without hesitation, she presented her gift.
"Here, fiance."
And with that, she pulled out Naidil.
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