Encrid had been conserving his Will all this time by forcibly restraining and controlling it, but doing so had overworked his mind.
Because of that, it felt like impurities had accumulated even in his head.
It takes greater mental energy to restrain and suppress overflowing Will than to simply release it. Just as it naturally takes more strength to move a heavier and larger stone.
Encrid was a textbook example of that.
Impurities had gathered in both his mind and body. He’d kept fighting in the rain, forcing his Will under control.
Of course, he wasn’t in peak condition at the moment. But it didn’t matter.
Kyak!
A few monsters blocked the road, and he swung Penna, crushing their skulls.
Beside him, Ragna swung his greatsword without hesitation.
With no sonic burst, the greatsword pierced cleanly into the Owlbear’s torso—a precise thrust.
Separate from the heavy style of swordsmanship, Ragna’s natural talent alone could easily astonish even a master of the Correct Sword Technique.
‘He never stops surprising me.’
To Encrid, Ragna swung his sword purely on instinct and intuition. And that instinct always worked to his advantage.
‘That’s what you call talent.’
The Owlbear that attacked earlier had clearly been aware of Ragna’s slash. You could tell just by looking at its movements.
It was a rare specimen, one that lacked psychic abilities but had exceptional combat instincts.
‘Just as there are outstanding humans, there are exceptional monsters too.’
The Owlbear didn’t bother hiding its presence. Instead, it revealed itself and prepared to block Ragna’s strike.
When there’s no time to think and a split-second decision is required, people tend to fall into familiar movements.
Which is why Ragna had to swing his sword a moment earlier. The Owlbear instinctively anticipated it, and Encrid had thought the same, but Ragna didn’t slash. He thrust. Without hesitation.
It wasn’t that he changed his mind mid-fight. He had intended to thrust from the start.
Because of that, the Owlbear’s instincts had reached a dead end.
Normally, even with its torso split open, it would’ve aimed to scratch Ragna somewhere with its claws.
Maybe if it got lucky, it could have taken an eye.
The way it stretched its arm while being impaled by the greatsword left a strong impression. If Ragna had slashed instead of thrusting, those claws might have reached his body.
‘Not that it would’ve landed anyway.’
But this was clearly the better choice. And the results spoke for themselves.
The Owlbear, stabbed through the gut, was thrown backward and collapsed. A hole gaped in its abdomen, and its skull was crushed by a follow-up blow with the greatsword.
“Why’d you stab it?”
“Because I wanted to stab it.”
The answer was almost absurd.
‘No wonder Hescal lost to him.’
He acted like his main style was deceptive swordplay, but it wasn’t. That was what drew repeated admiration.
Hescal pretended the deceptive sword was his hidden fang but everyone who mattered already knew that secret.
His true strength lay in the Correct Sword Technique, in the solo tactics that relentlessly pressured the opponent.
‘Hescal used countless experiences and a clever mind to create multiple layers of deception, like veils turned into weapons.’
It was a double bluff. Even the deceptive sword was just another strategic tool to him. If you got caught up in his tactical calculations, you’d flail like a butterfly in a spider’s web until you died.
But if his opponent was Ragna?
Ragna always pushed his enemies into a corner. The Middle Sword Technique came afterward. That’s just how his sword worked.
Now that he thought about it, the Wave Blocking Sword had its foundation in Ragna’s swordsmanship.
The process was different, but the outcome was the same. Encrid blocked with calculations.
Ragna blocked with pure talent.
He didn’t need anyone to tell him, his sword simply knew where to go. It was like finding a path that had never been walked.
A heaven-sent talent—a genius. Completely different from Rem’s impulsive decision-making.
“You monster.”
Encrid muttered. But his steps never stopped. Ragna kept his head slightly bowed. Unless he had surplus Will, it was right to avoid Medusa’s gaze.
But when Encrid spoke, Ragna lifted his head.
It was a waste of Will, but after hearing that, he couldn’t help it.
“Allow me to return the favor. Being compared to a bastard like Rem is deeply offensive, Captain.”
The lazy man who spoke so clearly bowed his head again.
“Is that a challenge?”
“I’m being sincere.”
Encrid chuckled and maintained his awareness range with his head still lowered.
Some guy, probably from the Hunter’s Village or whatever, fired a few arrows from mid-distance then ran away.
Encrid snatched the arrows out of the air.
They weren’t particularly powerful. If fired with transferred Will, maybe, but ordinary arrows posed no threat to Encrid now.
When Leona Roguefried first arrived in the city, even a thrown dagger had to be dodged with Focus Point—but now, he could catch arrows in a calm state.
His visual tracking, athleticism, strength, and reflexes were on a whole different level now.
And so, they gradually closed the distance with Medusa. The closer they got, the more pressure weighed down on their bodies.
Countless monsters roamed the Demon Realm. The few that stood above the rest earned names for themselves.
Balrog was one. Medusa was another.
Saaaaaaaak!
A cursed snake hovering above released a wail identical to the Scalor’s cry.
‘This is bad.’
They had fought well so far, but if this dragged on, Zaun would lose. The reason was simple.
No matter how skilled they were, if the remaining monsters rushed Zaun’s headquarters, there was no stopping all of them.
‘Even if the head of the house and those here survive, if the rest of Zaun dies, can we still say Zaun survived?’
If a kingdom has no people, can it still be called a nation?
Of course not.
Which is why anything that could affect the entire battlefield had to be eliminated.
Even without tactical instinct, anyone who understood the situation would reach the same conclusion.
Encrid gauged the distance to Medusa and recalled the demon he had slain before.
‘The One-Killer, a type that could kill with just a graze.’
But Medusa fought completely differently.
Even as two swordsmen approached, the named monster of the Demon Realm simply spread its Petrification Curse.
‘A battle of endurance.’
That was Medusa’s style. The scales covering its body looked tough, and its cracked, olive lips would surely spew poison.
It had a hidden tail, calmly tucked behind it, masking its presence.
‘A sustaining-type monster.’
You could even call it a Knight’s natural enemy. Its Intimidation smothered the battlefield, and its stamina was immeasurable.
If you tried to force a quick fight, you might just end up being devoured.
A nightmare for Knights specialized in short, decisive battles.
Of course, Encrid could fight a bit differently. He could go along with Medusa’s style and drag the battle out.
‘Give it time, and it’s an easy win.’
With persistent slashes and grinding tactics, they could probably wear it down over two days.
Parts of its body—like the serpentine hair—would regenerate after being severed, but not indefinitely.
The Petrification Curse it sprayed now and then could be endured, and its tail or claws could be avoided.
Then, in the right moment—cut, stab, and chip away until it died.
A foreseeable outcome, even without having fought yet. A future revealed by insight.
Three days at most, and the battle would be over. Though, it was a tactic only Encrid could possibly use.
To fight like that, you needed an unending supply of Will, along with the stamina and mental strength to last three days.
But if they fought like that, they’d lose.
While they dragged it out, Riley would run out of strength, Anahera would wear down, and Kato would die.
That would mean Zaun’s side gate would collapse. Even if the walls held, if the enemy breached through the side, it would all be meaningless.
It wouldn’t be victory if they couldn’t protect what mattered.
“Ragna.”
“Yes.”
“We go in with one clean strike.”
There was no need to explain tactics. They’d adjust as they went. But roles had to be clearly defined.
“You open the path.”
He couldn’t entrust the final move to Ragna, not when his shoulder was already pierced.
Ragna answered without words, simply lifting his greatsword. The blade pointed skyward.
CRACKBOOM!
Right then, lightning struck. A white flash tore through the sky overhead.
Zaun sat atop a basin, perfectly exposed for a lightning strike, but also perfectly placed to elevate morale.
Encrid watched, sheathed Three Iron, steadied his breathing, and said what he simply couldn’t keep in.
“Just two swordsmen charging forward.”
Ragna echoed the call, joining in the intent.
“Just two swordsmen charging forward.”
To cut down a monster of the Demon Realm with a single blow, this was no fight against One-Killer. If they failed, they would die.
Was this a gamble? Perhaps. But if they didn’t, many others would die instead.
This battle would be no easy feat. It was dangerous—worthy of being called a gamble. And maybe that’s why...
‘This is fun.’
Joy. From deep within Encrid, a rush of euphoria erupted, burning away every impurity.
The residue that dulled his mind and weighed down his limbs was consumed in flame.
The dregs vanished, and in their place roared a fire fierce enough to vaporize the falling rain.
The flame raged from within, enough to turn every drop of rain into steam.
He was ready. Ragna stood in front of Encrid as if to shield him—then took off running.
* * *
With each step forward, Ragna could feel the oppressive force of the Demon Realm’s monstrous power.
It was like sinking into a swamp. And Medusa was not alone.
The moment he stepped forward, two Scalors rushed in from either side like the wind.
Ragna swung his greatsword in an arc, slicing both Scalors clean in half.
Fwaaah!
Black blood sprayed across the ground. He accelerated his pace.
Tong!
As he kicked off the ground, Encrid followed behind.
Ragna was dumbfounded by the Captain’s earlier comment, calling him a monster. Who was he to say that to someone else?
‘Not even my father or mother knows.’
The edge of his hair, cut during a spar with Encrid in the bath, had been sharp. The victor and loser in that bout had been clear.
It had been a semi-serious duel. Since coming to Zaun, Encrid hadn’t sparred with anyone like that.
There’s a clear difference between a Captain in real battle and one focused purely on training. Ragna knew that well.
‘The Captain who goes all out...’
He would surpass Ragna as he was now. After the Forest of the Fairies, Ragna had forced a tie through sheer obstinance, but if they fought properly now, he would lose.
Ragna loved that thought. Whether rain poured, lightning struck in the distance, or even if Medusa stood before him, a thrill surged through his entire body. Desire rose, and motivation surged. All of it combined into a single, overwhelming thought.
He wanted to see it.
What would Encrid show him? The whining Squad Leader who once muddled along had now surpassed him.
Genius? Talent? Laughable. Here stood someone who had transcended all that.
Even now, Encrid was always hungry, never still, never ceasing to step forward.
‘Have you taken another step ahead?’
Ragna asked himself silently. He didn’t need an answer. If it was Encrid, of course he had.
He was a craftsman who shaped the clay of yesterday, fired it in the flame of today, and produced a vessel called tomorrow.
What kind of vessel would he create?
Ragna was curious.
His sword was steady. He cut down anything that approached as if he already knew the outcome.
Fwoooosh!
Once they reached a certain distance, Medusa’s tail scraped the ground and lunged at them.
Kwagagagagak!
The ground shook violently. As the scales on the tail rose like blades, it looked like a massive pillar of swords was charging in.
‘Can’t dodge this.’
It wasn’t a thought-out decision made after seeing and processing. It was pure instinct. If he jumped to dodge, the tail would follow. So, he couldn’t dodge, he had to block.
If he blocked once and was pushed back, he’d be at a disadvantage. But Ragna didn’t need to think all this through.
His intuition and instincts assured him, he must not dodge. He raised his greatsword and drove it into the ground.
Boom!
It was like an entire palace pillar had slammed into him. And that wasn’t the end of it.
The blade-like scales at the tip of the tail scratched the back of Ragna’s hand as it pushed in close.
Drrrk.
His leather gauntlet tore, and his hand was cut. Still, at least his wrist hadn’t been severed.
Then, the tip of Medusa’s tail curled upward, revealing a sharp, pointed stinger—like a shy bride seeing her groom for the first time in three years.
If he pulled out his greatsword, the tail would lash again and throw him back. He’d have to use more Will and stamina just to close the distance again.
That was exactly what Medusa wanted.
But if he stayed still, he’d get a surprise kiss from that bride and that “kiss” was so sharp and pointed, it would leave a massive hole in his skull.
If he didn’t dodge, he’d be hit. But to not be hit, he’d have to dodge.
So what was the answer? Which path must he take?
Ragna’s instincts once again knew before his mind did. He reached back with one hand.
That hand caught the Captain’s secondary weapon—Penna, the sword. He grabbed it and swung.
Into that simple motion, he condensed his Will. Just as he had when he cut down Hescal.
‘Will Conversion.’
Ragna succeeded again.
When training alone, he had only managed it six times out of ten. The Will condensed into Penna burst forth in a bluish-white light.
Pugagagagak!
As Ragna swung, the tip of Medusa’s tail was cleanly severed and flung into the air.
It flopped as if it were still alive despite being cut. The bride had been rejected. And then—
‘Now.’
Medusa’s head was far above, so high that even three grown men standing shoulder to shoulder would barely reach it.
But with the tail lunging and then halting, a staircase to her head had formed. Ragna saw the path. Then, surely, the Captain would see it too.
Just as he had silently passed Penna into Ragna’s hand earlier, no words were needed.
Ragna bent his knees halfway and Encrid stepped onto his shoulder and leapt upward.
A light step. He hadn’t even applied much strength, yet his body shot upward, faster than an arrow.
Kwa-ANG!
A thoughtless bolt of lightning struck just beside them. For a moment, the deafening thunder numbed their hearing.
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