"Alright, who's ready to die today?"
As usual, Rem was putting his heart into training his unit, or what some might call torment.
He would pick out soldiers one by one to spar with him or force them into outnumbered combat. The latter involved three evenly matched opponents holding their ground against him, which, of course, was preferable to facing Rem alone.
Despite his words, no one in the unit spoke up. Instead, they simply burned with silent determination, ready to take on anyone who dared to challenge them. Those who had once voiced complaints had long since learned to keep their mouths shut.
They had realized that resisting only led to a thorough beating before they still had to do whatever they had been ordered to.
‘Clever bastards.’
Rem pushed them even harder. His philosophy was simple—training had to be brutal so they could fight better in real combat.
Anyone who had been pushed to the brink of death by his axe during training found themselves far more composed when facing monsters. In battles outside the city, where mercenary soldiers took down groups of beasts and magical creatures, Rem’s unit often displayed fierce prowess.
And it wasn’t just about being good at fighting.
None of them harassed women in the territory, nor did they loot or demand free meals at inns.
Despite appearances, it was rare to find a unit stationed in a domain as disciplined and well-mannered as Rem’s.
Naturally, this meant Rem’s reputation grew with each passing day. Everyone knew this was Rem’s Assault Unit, and that name carried weight.
Because of this, some noble families in the southern kingdom had begun to tolerate Rem’s presence.
Not that those who met him in person were particularly warm to him.
Rem was absorbed in his training, but today, he had taken a break to berate his men at the training grounds.
Crunch, crunch.
The first thing he heard was the sound of careless footsteps. Whoever was approaching wasn’t even trying to be stealthy.
Along with the sound came an overbearing presence, one that didn’t bother to hide its hostility.
"So, you're the Noble Slayer? That gray hair of yours confirms it. And you've got the face of a brute, too."
The stranger sauntered forward, speaking in a lazy drawl.
Rem's training ground was at the base of the Pen-Hanil mountain range. There was a proper training hall, but he preferred to train in the open, right at the foot of the mountains.
Thanks to that, large groups of monsters and beasts rarely made it past the border outposts.
What had started as a request from Krais had proven to be an excellent training spot.
‘Monsters and magical beasts come down all the time? Perfect.’
That was how he had decided on the location.
And the man approaching had come down from Pen-Hanil.
He had a drawn sword in his hand, its blade slick with dark blood.
Rem had already sensed his presence before he arrived, so he was seated on the wooden steps of the training platform, leaning against the railing with his arm draped over the side.
The rickety wooden steps creaked under his weight.
He hadn’t even drawn his axe. His posture was relaxed, some might even call it arrogant.
"So, which worthless wretch has crawled in today?"
"Worthless? If you're talking about me, you're dying today."
The man shot back instantly.
His armor was thin but looked expensive, and his sword was no ordinary weapon.
He even carried himself like a noble. Though, for a noble, his aura was far too bloodthirsty.
"Is this guy insane?"
One of Rem's men muttered.
A mercenary-turned-soldier, known in the past as Mad Axe, the scar beneath his eye was proof of his brutal past.
Though he was considered relatively mild-mannered now, that was only because of the company he kept.
"Oi, if you wanna live, get lost, dumbass."
Another senior soldier waved a hand dismissively.
They all knew that provoking Rem was a terrible idea.
"Does he even know where he is? What, does he think this place is some kind of suicide spot?"
As everyone muttered, one of the kinder soldiers stepped forward.
"Leave. If you cause trouble here, you will die. Go to the Divine Guard instead. They won’t kill you, just strap some boulders to your back and make you march around for a while."
Unlike them, that unit at least let their recruits live.
But here? Rem’s soldiers were ruthless. And none of them shied away from a fight.
The man didn’t reply. Instead, without warning, he slashed his bloodstained sword.
Even Rem barely reacted before the blade carved through the air.
That was how fast it was.
There was no wind-up. No tell. No sign of movement before the attack.
"DOWN!"
Whoosh!
As the blade cut through the air, Rem’s voice bellowed across the training ground.
It was a command drilled into his soldiers' bones.
In multi-combat training, failing to react instantly meant getting maimed.
That was why, without hesitation, the soldier in front instinctively tensed his core.
He dropped backward as if collapsing.
Just as he hit the ground—
THUD!
An axe cut through the space he had been standing in.
The weapon met the assailant’s sword with a deafening clang.
It wasn’t Rem’s main axe. Just a hand axe.
But Rem was very good at throwing things.
The stranger had knocked it aside with a casual flick of his sword. The initial strike had been aimed at the soldier’s chest.
But somehow, the swordsman had adjusted mid-swing to deflect the axe instead. And he did it without losing his stance or showing the slightest surprise.
"Now who the hell are you?"
Rem stepped forward.
His boots hit the ground, closing the distance between them in a flash.
The swordsman struck again. A clean, seamless downward slash.
Rem responded with a diagonal axe swing.
Their weapons clashed.
Screech!
Sparks flew as the axe and sword ground against each other.
Neither side gave way. Their weapons locked, then suddenly sprang apart.
Rem absorbed the shock with his thigh muscles and swung again, his arms snapping like a whip as his axe blurred forward.
Boom!
The air exploded.
It was a strike comparable to the slashing techniques of Encrid, fueled by Will.
The axe streaked toward the swordsman’s head.
Slice!
It split the target open, but no blood spilled.
A mirage.
The swordsman had already ducked backward. It almost looked like a lucky dodge.
‘Like hell it was.’
Rem knew.
The man had done it on purpose. He had calculated the timing down to the last fraction of a second.
And now—
He stabbed.
‘Oh?’
Rem smirked inwardly.
The precision was impressive.
Instead of a reckless counterattack, the swordsman grasped his weapon near the guard and delivered a textbook stab.
It was a basic move. But used correctly, it was deadly.
"Not bad."
Rem flicked his left foot forward.
He intended to avoid the stab by merely tilting his head.
The swordsman, however, pulled back at the last moment.
Light-footed.
He stepped away, sword raised. Both hands gripped the hilt now.
Rem rested his axe on his shoulder. Two very different stances.
"Where the hell did a guy like you crawl out from?"
Rem muttered.
Something about this guy bothered him.
"Why? Wanna know?"
"Not really, asshole."
And his tone was grating.
The swordsman shifted. He was pouring everything into his next attack. A true Middle Sword Technique.
Rem’s axe hummed. A sharp vibration ran through the handle.
‘Let’s put an end to this bullshit.’
He struck.
Their weapons clashed—
BOOM!
A shockwave rolled through the training ground.
"Holy shit. Freaks, the both of them…"
One soldier muttered.
Rem didn’t kill him. But his axe was resting on the swordsman’s head.
If a Knight had enough strength and skill, there was no need to raise an axe high, just a shallow cut would be enough to split a skull.
The man who had attacked was now kneeling on one knee. Blood streamed from beneath his tattered shoulder guard.
"I'm gonna ask you one thing. Answer carefully."
Rem’s voice carried a faint killing intent, but this was no jest.
Unlike the playful malice he showed during training, this was something else entirely.
If his usual bloodlust was like the slow rise of the morning sun, this was the scorching midday sun—blindingly clear.
If the answer was wrong, his axe would move.
Meaning, he had no intention of hiding the fact that he would kill if necessary.
"What's your connection to that directionally-challenged bastard?"
Rem asked.
While Rem was engaged in battle, Audin also found himself facing someone.
The man before him had blonde hair and blue eyes. A chiseled jaw and a large frame, though still not quite comparable to his own.
"I'm here to meet someone."
The blonde said.
Audin almost asked how he had gotten in, but stopped himself.
It didn't matter if he had sneaked in or walked in through the front gate, no guards could have stopped him either way.
Right beside Audin, Luagarne rolled her large eyes.
"Where did this guy crawl out from?"
Her Insightful Gaze was an ability that made it easy to assess an opponent’s level.
‘I can’t see through him.’
She could gauge Encrid’s potential because she had watched his growth for a long time, but when it came to others, especially Knights, there were times when even her eyes met a wall.
She used that as a basis to judge his strength.
At the very least, he was a Knight.
"I heard he was here, but I wasn’t sure if that was true."
The man spoke carefully, as if choosing his words deliberately. He didn't even finish his sentences properly.
Audin greeted him with a gentle smile.
"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first, Brother?"
The blonde man remained indifferent even as he looked at Audin.
He hadn't drawn his weapon, but Audin’s intuition told him he was moments away from doing so.
Naturally, Audin adjusted his stance. He spread his legs slightly apart and let his arms hang loose.
If he managed to grab hold of something, he would break it. That was the nature of his merciless grip, always ready to move.
"So, what I actually wanted to ask was, uh... to be precise, I was asking for a name. Are you Encrid?"
The blonde asked bluntly.
From behind, Lawford and Pel gave each other a look.
Who the hell is this idiot?
In this region, Encrid was known as the Demon Slayer, the Guardian of the Border Guard, and the Man Who Ended the Civil War.
Everyone knew that he had black hair, blue eyes, and an appearance that charmed women of all races.
"Does that face look like a lady-killer to you? Look at him. You think he could seduce anyone?"
Pel blurted out whatever came to mind.
Whether Lady-Killer became Heart-Slayer or whatever—it wasn’t his nickname, so he didn’t care.
Audin, meanwhile, was quite satisfied with his own face which made hearing all this rather baffling.
"…Shepherd Brother?"
Audin called out.
"It’s not wrong,"
Pel muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"It is wrong."
Teresa chimed in.
"Absolutely."
She reinforced the statement, making sure there was no misunderstanding.
"Sister Teresa?"
"I am simply ensuring that there is no confusion."
Oh, so this is helping? Audin’s eyes seemed to say.
"Where the hell did this guy come from that he doesn’t even recognize our captain? This man may not be able to kill hearts, but he does have a hobby of tearing people in half. Watch your mouth. That last remark definitely pissed off Lord Audin."
Lawford warned.
"So... apparently, I have a hobby of tearing people in half?"
Audin asked, raising a brow.
"Ah. Was that not the case? I heard in the Divine Infantry, if you make a mistake, your body could be torn apart."
Had there been an issue with their training methods?
For a moment, Audin reflected on the past. Perhaps their training regimen had been too weak.
Proper training shouldn’t leave room for idle thoughts.
The blonde man blinked a few times.
He had never heard that particular nickname before.
But one thing was clear—
That bear of a man standing before him was no pushover.
"Not that it really matters."
The man said.
His previously relaxed demeanor shifted, replaced by something new.
Expectation.
Excitement.
"Let’s fight."
Even before the words were fully spoken, Audin knew the man was about to attack.
His presence surged forward. A sword cut through the air.
Golden dust shimmered in Audin’s hands as he clenched them into fists.
Sacred armor, formed from divine energy, met the descending blade.
CLANG!
The divine aura woven into Audin’s gauntlets clashed with the Will-infused blade of his opponent.
Audin instinctively activated Divine Penetration, but his opponent withdrew the moment their weapons met, dissolving the effect.
It was a textbook one-handed sword.
The blade was pale blue and white, its hardness speaking volumes, it was no ordinary weapon.
‘A seasoned warrior.’
Audin assessed his opponent’s nature. He was highly skilled, with battle-hardened techniques.
At the same time, the man was gauging Audin’s strength.
‘That talk about tearing people in half wasn’t a lie, huh?’
The raw grip strength. The refined techniques. It was believable.
Just moments ago, Audin had grabbed his sword and almost snapped it in half.
That was enough for the blonde to instinctively retreat.
"This is fun."
The man grinned.
Audin sensed something familiar about him.
It was as if someone had mixed a cheap imitation of Encrid with a cheap imitation of Ragna and sent it walking.
"My name is Odinkar Zaun."
"I am Audin Plumray. I wield divine power."
"Let’s have some fun."
Zaun.
The same surname as Ragna.
The man, who introduced himself as Odinkar, raised his sword.
A faint glow shimmered along its surface.
That was Will, condensed into form.
This man—
He had surpassed a wall.
He was a genius who had broken through.
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