If there is a beginning, then there must also be an end.
The indulgence in fine food.
The joy of music.
The pursuit of physical pleasure between men and women.
Everything comes to an end.
Encrid wiped the blood dripping from his nose with his forearm.
The thrill had faded.
He hadn’t fought for the victory, he had fought for the process, and now that it was over, a sense of calm returned.
As he had calculated from the start, Penna had been enough.
"I thought you’d drop in the middle of the fight."
The female swordsman spoke.
She was kneeling on one knee, looking up at him.
Those who had been hiding to watch the fight from a safe distance, now sensing the tension had eased, emerged as spectators.
A child with wide eyes suddenly raised their voice.
"Did you win?"
The answer came from the female swordsman instead.
"Yeah, I lost."
From the very beginning, there had been no intent to kill, no murderous intent.
This wasn’t a fight to the death, it was an assessment.
It could be called a rough sparring match at best. That was why Encrid hadn’t gone all out with his sword either.
‘Victory in battle isn’t determined by skill alone.’
He realized that once again.
Compared to the swordswoman in front of him, he held the superior technique. But what if this had been real combat?
‘She didn’t show everything she had.’
Of course, Encrid hadn’t revealed all of his own abilities either.
"Why aren’t you tired?"
The woman asked.
Encrid studied her face for a moment, searching his memories.
"I thought you looked familiar."
"Huh? You know me?"
She had been someone he had briefly encountered in the past.
He hadn’t recognized her immediately because the time they had spent together had been so short, but now that he recalled, her appearance had left a strong impression.
Despite the years that had passed, she hadn’t changed much at all.
Perhaps that was why the memory buried deep in his mind had surfaced so vividly.
It had been that day, the day Gehr and Pete had died.
A time when he was still labeled as the man who let his comrades die.
‘She was the swordswoman who killed the bandits that day.’
He remembered.
During that fight, Gehr and Pete had barely held on, sacrificing themselves and then this woman had appeared.
Looking back, the nickname the man who let his comrades die had followed him for far too long. Because of it, he had eventually left mercenary work and become a Guide instead.
"I thought you were a man back then."
Encrid said.
It must have been because of her short hair at the time.
Her breastplate had hidden her figure, and with her face partially obscured, it had been difficult to discern her gender.
Her hair was much longer now.
A fleeting connection from his mercenary days had unexpectedly resurfaced here.
"Huh? It’s my first time seeing you, though."
The woman replied.
Encrid had seen many people, but it had been a long time since someone looked at him this plainly.
There was no infatuation, no awe at his appearance, only pure admiration for his swordsmanship.
"I saw you in passing, long ago."
Encrid said, sheathing his sword.
She had no intention of continuing the fight, and in the past, she had saved him, even if not intentionally.
"Oh, no way. I remember faces really well."
For some reason, the way she spoke and smiled so openly reminded him of Ragna.
"Why did you attack me?"
Encrid didn’t press her further on whether she remembered or not, it had been too long ago for that.
Besides, he was certain she hadn’t come to kill him.
"I was watching you, and it just... got me fired up."
She grinned. A straightforward, unabashed answer.
It was the kind of smile and words that revealed her true nature without pretense. To an outsider, it might have sounded insane.
It was only natural to ask, That’s it? That’s the whole reason?
But Encrid understood immediately. When the blood starts boiling, sometimes that’s just how it is.
"Insane."
A voice muttered from the side.
Vengeance had arrived at some point, shaking his head.
To him, fighting because your blood boiled was utter madness.
From the moment he had fought his way through fields of arrows and flashing blades, he had lived with the knowledge that surviving was a matter of sheer luck.
Dying to a stray sword or an arrow was just part of life.
‘One of those times, it was Encrid who saved my ass.’
Vengeance recalled how, while he had been consumed by petty jealousy, Encrid had pulled him from a burning tent, carrying him on his back.
Encrid met his gaze and gave him a subtle nod, acknowledging his presence.
At that moment, the Border Guard Security Forces arrived.
The Security Commander himself had come, likely running here the moment he heard about the incident.
Vengeance gestured to the archers who had already taken position.
The soldiers, who had surrounded the area with crossbows drawn, now slowly lowered their weapons.
Neither Encrid nor the swordswoman had failed to notice the soldiers gathering or the crossbows aimed at them, but they had simply ignored it.
Vengeance and his men understood that trying to control Knights was a fool’s errand.
But just standing by and watching wasn’t an option either.
That was the role of the Border Guard Security Forces, not to subdue Knights, but to buy time.
This entire scene was a testament to how dangerous Knights truly were on this continent.
‘A walking catastrophe.’
That was how Vengeance saw Knights.
Had this woman swung her sword recklessly, dozens—no, hundreds of people could have died here.
And after that, she would have lost her head to Encrid’s blade.
That was why no one in their right mind sent a Knight into a city just to commit mass slaughter.
Knights were too valuable.
And despite their terrifying abilities, they weren’t invincible.
A Knight, clad in armor, might withstand normal arrows, but a ballista bolt? Not even Knights were immune to those.
Well, maybe Audin could survive one, but the average Knight? No chance.
Sure, they might dodge a few attacks, but eventually, they would fall. That’s why battles like this were almost unheard of.
Which meant the woman’s reason for attacking must have been genuine.
She had really just gotten fired up watching Encrid.
Encrid reflected on the fight. The thrill of it.
‘She wasn’t sloppy. She wasn’t fake.’
From experience, he knew, Knights who walked a structured path toward their goal often ended up frauds.
That’s how the Holy Nation produced its counterfeits. They set a predetermined answer and forced their Knights to follow it.
But a Knight who lived by false beliefs and fake convictions wasn’t a Knight at all.
At least, not in Encrid’s eyes. So what about this woman?
She had walked her own path.
He knew it the moment they had crossed swords.
"You’ve subdued her, so take her with you, Captain."
Vengeance spoke.
He didn’t seem particularly happy about the situation, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten his duty.
Could Knights be stopped from entering cities freely? Was there a way to immediately neutralize them if they rampaged?
As these thoughts crossed Vengeance’s mind, Encrid suddenly remembered, the woman had come looking for someone.
"Did you find who you were looking for?"
"Probably. I doubt there’s two warriors like you in this place."
The Mad Knights of the Border Guard had become famous. Their reputation was beyond anything from the past.
She had followed the rumors all the way here, and now, she had finally asked her question.
"You're Encrid the Heartbreaker, right?"
‘...Goddamn it, Pel.’
Encrid figured at least half the reason that ridiculous nickname had spread was because of Pel’s big mouth.
Of course, the other half was Sinar’s fault.
"That's right."
The one who answered wasn’t Encrid, it was Vengeance.
Encrid turned to look at him. Was that a provocation?
"It's not wrong."
Vengeance murmured.
"And there's also that beastman who tears people apart, right?"
There was a rumor that a certain bear beastman could rip apart manticores and humans alike.
"That's right. Though he’s not a beastman."
Vengeance answered again. He remained cautious, but not so much that he wouldn't respond.
Even he could tell, this woman hadn’t come here for bloodshed.
"And then there's that barbarian who drools at the sight of nobles and splits their skulls open."
The way she phrased it, there was a hint of malice in the rumor.
But rumors always got twisted over time. Still, Encrid corrected her.
"He doesn't drool."
"Oh, really? And what about that blood-crazed youngest? The one who enjoys stabbing people in the back? I also heard there's a fairy here with demon blood."
Technically, it was a fairy who despised demon blood.
"And a witch in hiding."
That was somewhat true, but also not quite right. Esther had already formed her own magic unit. She wasn’t exactly trying to conceal her identity.
And yet, people still called her Black Flower.
"And there's also that lunatic who slashes at anyone who makes eye contact. That maniac has blonde hair and red eyes, right?"
“That’s right.”
Ragna Zaun.
The woman’s name would likely be similar. Encrid caught on quickly.
"My name is Grida Zaun. I’m sister of that blonde maniac."
She introduced herself.
Encrid wasn’t surprised.
A long time ago, Ragna had mentioned that he had left his family of his own accord.
He hadn’t gone into detail, he was too lazy to explain things properly.
The Zaun family was legendary in terms of swordsmanship.
It was a name that held enough weight to be considered mythical.
"Encrid of the Border Guard."
Encrid introduced himself and extended a hand.
Grida grasped it and pulled herself up, then casually remarked—
"You're pretty skilled. So, what do you think of me?"
"...In what sense are you asking? No, don’t answer that."
Vengeance, standing beside them, perked up his ears at the conversation.
And among the onlookers, Encrid spotted a hooded shadow, likely a fairy.
"What do you think I mean? As a woman, obviously."
Ah.
"Of course. The Captain of Enchantment."
Someone muttered.
For the first time in a long while, Encrid’s old nickname echoed through the Border Guard.
"The Enchanted Captain!"
"The Enchanted Knight!"
"The Master of Enchantment!"
"The Collector of Hearts!"
Half of them were just running their mouths for fun.
Encrid knew from experience, reacting to rumors only made them spread faster. The more he responded, the more enjoyment they got from it.
So, he merely memorized a few faces for future reference.
Clink.
Somewhere among the crowd, a fairy dropped a bottle from their hands. They looked utterly shocked.
But instead of picking it up, they disappeared into the crowd. Encrid watched until they vanished, then turned back to Grida.
"Ragna is at the barracks."
"Got it. But really, no interest at all?"
"None."
"Ah, did you lose it in an accident?"
"...Lose what?"
"That."
Grida, much like Ragna, paid no attention to other people's reactions.
She lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers downward suggestively.
"I have it."
Encrid’s response was immediate.
"Oh, then maybe it's just your preferences?"
"Absolutely not."
"So, I must not be attractive enough, huh?"
Grida nodded to herself, looking oddly certain.
She didn’t seem the least bit offended or bothered. Not in the slightest. Then, she asked again.
"But when exactly have we met before?"
Until just a moment ago, they had been conversing with swords. Now, it was just a normal conversation.
Encrid found this far preferable to discussing the existence of certain anatomical parts.
"It was back when a campsite got raided. I caught a few bandits that day. You might not remember, it happened so fast."
"Do you have any idea how many times that’s happened to me?"
"...Fair point."
"Did you get lost in the meantime?"
If she was Ragna’s sister, it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption.
"No, not exactly. To be honest, I got distracted. There were too many fun things to do, so I just wandered around while pretending to look for him. But then my family sent out more people."
"So you weren’t alone when you arrived?"
"Yeah. By now, they’re probably testing out their skills. If someone got hurt, just... be understanding. They’re all desperate to swing their weapons."
Who had gotten hurt? That was something they'd find out soon enough.
"That’s my line."
Encrid said plainly.
Ignoring the voices still murmuring about his infamous nickname, he turned and walked ahead.
Vengeance dispersed the gathered onlookers, and Encrid quickened his pace toward the barracks. As soon as he stepped inside, he heard noise.
"You're finally here?"
Rem greeted him first.
Standing next to him was a swordsman, one with a sullen expression. Dried blood was crusted over a wound on his forehead.
"You lost?"
Grida asked the man.
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