"Why do I feel so bad?"
Rem muttered as he watched the departing group. Audin, who was beside him, chuckled and said,
"Looks like you've realized something."
He was referring to Ragna's condition.
"Maybe he's just crazy?"
"That's possible."
Rem spoke and glanced at Audin. He had seen Audin spar with Encrid last night before Encrid left.
To be precise, Encrid had suddenly come and requested it.
"I want to have a bout before I leave."
Challenging someone to a duel the day before departure? For Encrid, it was nothing out of the ordinary.
Rem watched with ease, but Encrid lost. And it wasn’t just a simple loss—he got thoroughly beaten.
During the match, Audin, realizing Encrid’s purpose, asked,
"Did you learn a lot?"
"A little."
From Rem’s perspective, Encrid was the kind of man who, even if he were to die, would still want to learn one more sword technique before he did.
Because that was who he was.
It was a fleeting thought, but it was the truth. Encrid had died, relived today, and desperately struggled to reach this point.
"You said you'd block with waves and strike with light?"
"Yeah."
"Then you'll be showcasing your specialty without reserve."
"Probably."
"From a strategic standpoint, that's a foolish move. Not that you don’t already know that."
Rem silently agreed. There was no need for him to join the conversation; the fanatic bear beastman was saying everything necessary.
Encrid, with bruises darkening around his eyes, nodded. If he had been hit just a little worse, his eyeballs might have burst, but his body was as tough as iron.
When it came to wielding a sword, Encrid hadn't yet reached the upper echelons of his self-established system, but when it came to taking hits, he had.
He had learned to instinctively raise his Will and protect his body when struck.
How could he only master that?
‘Because he's been beaten so many times.’
That was Rem’s conclusion. He had been hit so much that, without thinking, he used his Will to take the impact. If he could do that while getting hit, he should be able to do the same when swinging his sword.
To Rem, Audin, Jaxon, and Ragna, it seemed absurd that he couldn't.
If one could open a door with their left hand, they could do it with their right too.
But Encrid couldn’t.
Seeing someone who had become a Knight and even surpassed them at certain moments grow so slowly should have been frustrating. But to be honest, Rem didn’t feel much anger about it.
He had long since accepted that Encrid was a man on a different path.
"He'll come back stronger."
Pushing aside his thoughts, Rem spoke. Slow but steady, that was the kind of man Encrid was.
"Yes, I know."
Audin nodded.
"And that directionally challenged bastard might as well be preparing to die, so maybe we should start preparing funeral prayers."
Rem spoke half in jest, half with malice, but his intuition was frighteningly sharp. After all, Ragna had changed because he realized he was ill.
"You don't really think so, do you?"
Audin understood Ragna’s talent. Even though Audin himself was praised as one of the most gifted apostles of war, Ragna had a unique sense even compared to him.
His ability to grasp the essence of things and advance in a single moment of focus was something almost impossible to replicate.
Not that it was something to be jealous of.
Audin knew himself well and understood the value of what he had.
He only knew how to move forward steadily, so he would continue to do just that.
And his captain, who had accepted his teachings, would do the same.
* * *
Encrid and his group left the city, heading in the rough direction they had planned.
From the first day, the weather was exceptionally good. Which was to be expected.
From the Border Guard northward, rainfall dropped sharply in spring. In other words, it rarely rained.
When summer arrived, storms would rage, but for now, the days were warm and peaceful.
At times, light spring showers fell, but torrential downpours were rare.
There was a saying that if spring remained dry for too long, the summer storms would be even fiercer, but that was something to worry about later.
"We’ll ride straight ahead until we reach the right wing of the Pen-Hanil Mountains—ah, you guys don’t call it that, do you? We call that area the ‘wing’. We’ll cross over from there."
The only commotion at their departure was stopping Ragna from taking the lead.
"If you take the lead, we’ll end up circling the entire continent."
Encrid reminded Ragna of his terrible sense of direction.
"Hey, was it Sena? Try to stop him."
Grida, annoyed, urged Ann to intervene.
"It’s Ann. I’m tired of correcting you. That’s like the fifth time already."
"Oh, my bad. I’ll just call you Freckles."
"I hate that even more."
Ann smoothly responded to Grida’s teasing while pulling Ragna back.
"Try to keep pace with me. I’m not used to this."
From the way she rode, she looked more than proficient, but Ragna didn’t argue.
"This isn’t the time to fuss over trivial things."
That was what had happened right after they left the city.
Then, Magrun urged his horse forward.
"Hya! Hyat! Hrah!"
Odinkar and Grida adjusted their speed, and Encrid followed suit.
Naturally, Ragna and Ann did the same.
Though there was no urgent reason to hurry, they began a forced march.
"Why waste time on the road? We won’t even make it ten days on horseback anyway. Until then, we should ride as hard as we can."
That was Magrun’s reasoning. They hated wasting time on the road.
Instead, they would ride as fast as possible during the day and wield their swords one more time at night.
For Encrid, it was the perfect arrangement. For Ann, it was sheer hell.
"Are you all insane?"
Despite her complaints, Ann kept up.
She had her reasons, she wanted to identify the illness as soon as possible. Or rather, she had resolved to kill it.
Ann had that kind of determination. It was as if she had sworn to stand wherever this disease continued to torment or kill people.
She said as much to Ragna in passing, and Encrid heard it too.
And so, as days passed in a cycle of relentless riding and nighttime rest, Encrid sank deep into his own thoughts.
Whenever he moved without distractions, his mind worked at full speed.
He left Ragna to Ann, Magrun took the lead, and Grida handled the campsites.
With trivial concerns set aside, his mind was consumed by the things Audin had shown him.
He hadn't spent time dueling before leaving for nothing.
On an instinctive level, Encrid had sensed his shortcomings and used Audin to confirm them.
‘Everyone finds a way to counter my specialty too easily.’
It was only in practice duels, but if this continued, it would impact real battles. He might lose fights he should have won.
Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon had all broken through his Wave Blocking Sword.
Grida had dismantled his calculations.
Odinkar’s sword was beginning to show the same tendencies, and even in his conversations with Magrun, he noticed similar signs.
"You’re too predictable."
Grida had told him that. Her observational skills were exceptional.
Would Luagarne have said something similar?
Her skills aside, that frog had a sharp eye for things.
Luagarne had left with Teresa and Sinar for special training, so Encrid hadn’t seen her since before their departure.
He kept thinking and thinking.
Then, he recalled his last moments sparring with Audin.
Audin deliberately left openings in his divine armor, not because of a lack of skill but as part of his strategy.
‘It’s deception.’
He intentionally showed flaws and left weak points.
That deception itself was a technique.
If someone ever thought Audin was slow-witted, they would never be able to defeat him.
He was stronger, more analytical, and more skilled than anyone in the unit—but he never hesitated to deceive.
Did one have to fight only using their specialty? What about Jamal of the Aspen Royal Knights?
‘He revealed his tricks only when necessary.’
It wasn’t about prioritizing deceptive techniques, it was about knowing how to use everything at his disposal.
Once, Oara had looked at him and called him ‘scattered’.
She had even told him to discard some things.
‘Was it greed that made me refuse to discard things back then? Had I taken the wrong path?’
Encrid was human, after all.
At times, a certain unease wrapped around him. A tingling sensation ran across his skin, and an unpleasant premonition made his heart race. But only for a moment.
If he had let this kind of fear stop him, he would have long since settled for "the best and finest today" and remained there.
What should one do when feeling uneasy?
Swing the sword. That was something he had learned through countless experiences.
There wasn’t much else he could do anyway.
That was why he organized his thoughts during the day and trained with his sword alone at night.
To an outsider, it might have seemed like a tedious and monotonous routine.
"The efforts of today will save your life tomorrow."
That was what Ragna, who had transformed from a lazy slacker into the embodiment of diligence, had said. Of course, everyone who heard him simply stared at him in disbelief.
"I know."
Encrid was the only one who responded indifferently, simply continuing to swing his sword.
Magrun found Encrid fascinating as he watched him.
"Is he going to die tomorrow?"
He himself might. This curse usually worked that way. It started in childhood and gradually led to death. His case had progressed more rapidly than most.
That was why there were things he wanted to leave behind. His entire life had been dedicated to that purpose.
A life spent leaving his mark on Zaun. That was the life of Magrun Zaun.
And yet, even he never pushed himself as relentlessly as Encrid did.
Encrid had been like this since leaving the city.
Every single day, he repeated the same grueling schedule, a level of intensity Magrun himself would never have attempted.
What Magrun wouldn’t dare to do, that man did effortlessly. It was impossible not to be amazed.
"Magrun, if you're not busy, want a match?"
At dusk, Encrid would even challenge him to a duel.
Magrun already knew he couldn’t win in terms of skill. Even if he risked his life, the wall was too high to climb.
Rem was impressive, but in pure dueling, Encrid was even more so.
Magrun, despite his sharp tongue, was quick to acknowledge others. That was one of his strengths.
It also allowed him to analyze techniques more effectively and learn new skills faster than most.
That was why Magrun was known for his innate talent in learning.
‘But this guy is slow.’
He had seen countless geniuses. Growing up in Zaun, that was inevitable. Yet, none of them had talent as dull as Encrid's. And still, this man was greater than all of them.
That was what Magrun believed.
"Anytime."
Clang!
Swords clashed, and the duel began. After a short exchange, Magrun emerged victorious. This was the first reason he found Encrid so remarkable.
"I lost."
Encrid knew how to lose.
"Yeah."
Magrun nodded. Then, Encrid asked,
"Will you tell me what you saw?"
"A few things."
Magrun calmly explained what he had observed.
Encrid asked questions, repeated what he heard, and nodded in understanding.
That alone was enough to make Magrun acknowledge him, no matter his skill.
‘He completely opens his mind and heart.’
To learn even a single thing, he sought help without hesitation. It wasn't servile groveling, nor was it flattery to please others.
It was pure sincerity.
He listened properly, asked sincerely, and sought knowledge.
Could most people interact this way with those weaker than themselves?
No. It wasn’t easy. It was incredibly difficult.
Even in Zaun, Magrun had never seen it.
Usually, those ahead guided those who lagged behind.
In Zaun, where competition was everything, this was even more pronounced.
But Encrid was different.
He knew how to lose. He opened himself up, acknowledged his shortcomings, and accepted them.
How could he not be fascinating?
Magrun wasn't the only one who thought so. Odinkar felt the same. Grida, of course, didn’t even need to say it.
Ragna, on the other hand, deliberately pushed Encrid harder.
"If you hide your specialty and act half-heartedly, that’s where it ends. Do you understand? If not, do it again. Again!"
Even Ragna was burning with an intensity unlike before.
If Sinar had seen him, she would have said,
"Igniculus—the ember is burning."
Encrid wasted no time during the journey. He trained constantly, even while riding.
And since this route had no safety posts or outposts, occasional encounters with monsters and beasts provided perfect sparring partners and sacrifices.
Watching others fight was also a form of study, and reviewing what he had learned by fighting himself was just as valuable.
As the mounted journey neared its end, Encrid realized something.
Skill, technique, physical ability, tactical thinking, strategy, intellect, judgment, quick responses, decisiveness, boldness, everything had to come together for it to mean anything.
‘To harmonize.’
And what did he need to do to achieve that?
Dozens of images and memories flashed through his mind.
His thoughts opened wide, diving into a domain of reflection and contemplation.
The process of searching for answers in past memories condensed, and he reached a conclusion in an instant.
‘The hands that roast jerky.’
A quiet memory, buried in the corner of his mental library, surfaced shyly.
From within that modest recollection came the sight of Eitri hammering metal, a frog’s delicate touch beside him, a giant reborn as a skilled merchant, a master making marmalade, and a cobbler stitching shoes.
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