“It is the way of reading their moves and responding.”
While being struck by Rem. While listening to Jacksen about the Sixth Sense. While pushing his body to its limits with Audin and the Technique of Isolation.
He faithfully learned the art of the sword from Ragna as well. Aside from his skills improving, he was truly persistent.
“Is it not frustrating?”
Ragna would often ask Enkrid.
Frustrating?
There was no reason to be. Ragna’s teachings were a path, a signpost pointing to what came after learning the fundamentals. How long had been the days he had wandered, not knowing the way?
Now, the moment he took one step forward, another path would immediately appear. It was simply joyful. How should one react when an opponent swings their sword down?
What should you do if the opponent is a monster? What if someone suddenly thrusts a spear at your back? In what situation, and how, should you extend your sword?
Once you have the basics, the next thing to learn is how to apply them. You cannot respond to every situation. This was similar.
The point was to figure out the knack of it. Naturally, it was not easy.
“I thought this one would end a little faster.”
That was what Ragna had said. Not a chance. Enkrid knew his talent was abysmal.
If his talent had been even decent, would he have struggled this much? He thought not. Still, he held no resentment.
He would rather swing his sword one more time in that time.
“The application of swordsmanship is only meaningful when you read your opponent’s moves and respond.”
Whether the opponent was a beast, a monster, or an enemy soldier, all he had to do was watch their movements, distinguish between feints and truths, and then cut or thrust with his sword. Ragna taught without tiring. Enkrid did not tire either, but his progress was endlessly slow.
He knew he was slow and lacking. He also knew he had to work several times harder than others.
Therefore.
Everything around him, every situation, every environment, every short moment given. He used it all as a tool for growth. That is what Enkrid did.
The path forward, dug through the tunnel. Four wolf monsters jumped out.
Woof woof!
The beasts, barking like dogs, rushed in without a moment to breathe. The dynamic wolf monsters, kicking up dirt as they charged, were enough to make one’s knees buckle at the sight. Their eyes held the ferocity of a beast.
Between their maws, tongues lolling and drool dripping, their yellowed teeth shone red in the torchlight.
‘Heart of the Beast.’
Audacity.
Thanks to it, he could face a blade right before his nose without batting an eye. It was the same now. Enkrid was calm.
In the time it took to take a few breaths, the wolf monsters were just a few steps away. Enkrid added the intuition of his instincts to his handling of the sword. It was a reflexive reaction born from audacity.
He believed this too would become a stepping stone for growth, and he intended to make it a part of his training.
‘There is no better training than a real battle.’
The only drawback was having to risk his life every time. He could not allow himself to spend today in vain. If he had wanted a life of just barely surviving day by day, he would not be singing of his dream, but tilling a field and begging for the gods’ blessings.
Even as he decided to cherish today, he had to risk his life to move forward. This was the only path for Enkrid to sing his dream. He was not rushing toward death, but risking his life to live.
As his intuition told him. According to his instincts.
Clack!
The sound of a wolf monster’s teeth snapping shut came from right in front of him. Enkrid dodged the wolf monster’s bite by pulling his left foot back, then moved his elbow to bring his sword down from above.
Crack! Yelp!
He struck not with the blade's edge, but with its flat. The wolf monster, struck in the head by a blow packed with weight, collapsed to the floor. After striking with the sword, he naturally took a step to the left.
He had thrown the torch to one side, but it had not gone out, so it served as a light source. One step to the left, Enkrid blocked the torch with his body just as he dodged the wolf’s front paw. With a whoosh, a heavy blow swept through the space where Enkrid’s stomach had been.
If it had connected, his padded armor would surely have been torn to shreds. A monster was a beast with the characteristics of a monster. Two of them cunningly circled around to get behind him.
Perhaps thinking they had found an opportunity, the two beasts, their snouts looking as if they were studded with short knives twice as sharp as a normal wolf’s, lunged for Enkrid’s thighs from both sides.
Piii-ik!
A strange noise spread through the dark tunnel, lit by a single torch. It was the work of an instant. Enkrid turned and flicked his hand, and a whistling throwing knife lodged itself in the forehead of one of the charging wolf monsters.
It was truly with the speed of a flash of light. He dodged the other one that rushed in during that moment by pulling his thigh back, then immediately raised his knee, performing the acts of dodging and striking at the same time.
Thud.
Perhaps the impact was not severe, as the wolf monster struck by his knee did not back down. Instead, as if showing off its leg muscles, it tried to press down on Enkrid’s foot with its front paw.
Pulling back his raised knee and taking a half-step back to dodge the paw aiming for his foot, Enkrid stood between the two monsters blocking his front and back. It was no different from being surrounded. Even in a situation that could be called a crisis, Enkrid’s eyes were not on the two wolves.
Focus, and more focus. The world did not feel slow like before. It was not that only dots and lines remained, with nothing else visible.
It was just that the wolf monsters' movements were clearly visible to his eyes. He could picture their next movements in his mind beforehand. With the monsters’ next moves in sight, Enkrid’s actions became simple.
There was no need to corner the opponent with complex feints and swings. His lowered sword, he swung it wide. The tunnel was too narrow to swing from side to side, but its height was sufficient to draw a large semicircle vertically.
What kind of sword was the Northern Heavy Sword? He recalled what he had learned as a fundamental. It is a sword that specializes in shattering things with a single blow.
Grrr!
The two wolf monsters charged at the same time. Enkrid executed the movement he had pictured in his mind.
Whoosh—thwack! Rip! Crunch!
The longsword, swung with all his might, did its job. The wolf monster on the sword’s side was split from its chest up through its jaw and head. The one struck by the downward blow that fell in a semicircle had its head burst open.
If the timing had been off by just a little, one of the two would have bitten him somewhere. This strike was a feat of strength.
“Hoo.”
Enkrid soothed his heart by letting out the breath he had been holding.
‘One.’
One monster remained. While the last wolf monster hesitated, Enkrid leaped forward. Funnily enough, he ran not to the wolf monster’s front, but to its left.
The monster, as if it had not seen him, ran in the same direction.
‘Pivot on the left foot.’
An extreme state of focus. As his intuition, his body, and the experience accumulated through his training dictated. He planted his left foot and extended his sword.
A thrust.
The tip of the sword, thrusting straight out, pierced the wolf’s snout and came out the back of its head.
Thwump!
With the sound, the wolf’s weight bore down on both his arms. He naturally relaxed his strength and let the wolf drop, slamming it onto the floor. Enkrid stepped on the head of the wolf, which now had a hole from its mouth to its skull, and pulled out his sword.
As the sword came out with a squelch, the monster’s red blood flowed onto the floor. The wolf monster’s body trembled.
Whimper.
The last monster’s breath scattered emptily. Leaving the slain monster, his arms hanging limp, Enkrid replayed what he had just done.
‘I can see.’
The wolf monsters' movements were simple. Movements left to instinct. So, they were caught by his Sixth Sense.
Single Point Focus and the instinctual Sixth Sense. It was a series of sword strikes that relied on the senses created by the combination of the two.
‘I can do it.’
Right now, he felt he could show Ragna what he meant by a sword that could be applied. Read the opponent’s intentions and movements. After that, all that was left was to bring down the sword he had trained with through the fundamentals.
Deceiving an opponent was a similar principle.
“It’s something you already know how to do. It’s just the process of formalizing it and making it a part of your body.”
Ragna’s words came to mind anew. Yes, that’s right. It was something he already did.
But the difference between doing something knowingly and unknowingly was like the difference between a cat and a tiger. Enkrid clenched and unclenched his fists, replaying it again and again. Even as he held the torch and moved forward, he continued to picture his sword in his mind.
Having something stick to your body after just one try was a privilege of the talented. So he contemplated and repeated it in his mind. Enkrid treated everything as training and performed it as such.
After that, he saw no more monsters or beasts. Instead, at the end of the passage, he found a tunnel connected to the sewers. Only then did he see something other than swordsmanship.
‘He’s a madman.’
To dig such a tunnel all the way here. What was the meaning of this? Spell traps were expensive.
They were not cheap mousetraps. What was the intention behind laying them down to block all six forks in the road? It was something even a wealthy merchant with krona to spare would hesitate to do.
On top of that, there were ghouls, called man-eaters, and monsters. What was the reason for blocking the way like this? What in the world was waiting beyond?
A part of the answer to that question came into view.
“You crazy son of a bitch.”
The words left Enkrid’s mouth on their own. He arrived at a place after walking along the foul-smelling sewer. In the torchlight, he saw things hung everywhere like laundry.
They were things made by driving nails into the wall, tying ropes to them, and letting them hang. They were not clothes. They were the parts that should wear those clothes.
A scene of tragedy beyond words, made of human entrails, flesh, and bone. A tragedy so gruesome it would make even Enkrid, who had seen his share of harsh sights, want to vomit.
‘Crazy bastard.’
This was a man who must be killed. Because he deserved to die. Was it not a knight’s duty to kill such a person?
He knew that dreaming did not make one a knight. But he could not see something like this and just let it go. In between, there were intact corpses, ones that at least had a human form.
One of them seemed to be alive. It blinked its eyes a few times, then opened its mouth.
“Gurgle.”
It could not speak.
Of course.
How could a human with only a head left possibly speak? The very fact that it was opening its eyes and speaking in that state was simply grotesque.
“Gurgle, gurgle.”
What was it trying to say? It was difficult to even guess. If it were him, Enkrid thought he would be begging for death.
He had no idea how it was moving. Moreover, he could not tell how the rope had been inserted through the head, nor did he want to know. Even though he had been through his share of things, a tragedy like this was truly disgusting.
“What are you?”
A voice sounded at that moment. Enkrid’s gaze turned toward the voice. It was the end of the path decorated with human corpses.
In a corner of the sewer, the corpse-lover’s face came into view. He was a young man with a pale face and a pallid impression. He was draped in a drab green robe, and his hair was long.
Enkrid asked.
“This must be your work?”
The man seemed to ponder for a moment, then spoke, mixing in his own thoughts.
“…How did you get all the way here? Does God love me? To think he would just toss a specimen my way even when I'm doing nothing. Now, let’s see. You look like you're from the standing army. A well-trained body. Good. Very good.”
The young man’s voice was light and cheerful. Like a blacksmith who had received high-quality steel. Like a merchant who had sealed a profitable deal.
In a way, he also seemed like a pure young man quietly confessing his heart. It was strange, and strange again.
“What should I make you into?”
Enkrid held the torch high. Beyond the flickering shadow behind the man. He saw a bizarre corpse, pieced together in various ways.
It was leaning against the wall. Its two eyes were closed, and it showed no signs of breathing. In Enkrid’s judgment, it was a corpse.
“Isn’t he lovely? This boy will become my greatest masterpiece. His name is Vamilo.”
Enkrid came to a conclusion. In truth, there was no need for further words. A completely crazy son of a bitch.
Enkrid threw the torch.
Whoosh, whoosh!
The torch spun rapidly, leaving a long, round trail as it flew toward the madman’s head.
Thump.
And the madman deflected the torch simply by raising his hand. A spell, which meant he was a mage. So, was that a reason for him to stop?
No. A man who deserves to die must be killed. Enkrid threw the torch, and even after seeing it get swatted away with a single gesture, he did not stop. Enkrid kicked off the ground and lowered his body.
He shot forward, his body low to the viscous ground of the sewer. With a squelch, he kicked the filth, and his body reached the mage with a whoosh. Using the momentum of his run, he swung his sword.
Following the sword swung from bottom to top, a diagonal cut slashed through the darkness where the torch had disappeared.
Aster usually stuck close to him at night, but on days when Enkrid was in the city, there were times she would just wander around nearby. Of course, there were many days she did not.
‘Sticking to him only at night is enough.’
And there was no need to be attached to him all the time. On a day like this, when he would normally just be in the barracks passing the time.
Flick.
Off you go. As she was seeing Enkrid off, in a moment of carelessness, the bastard flicked her on the tip of the nose.
Grrr! That bastard?
“I’m leaving.”
And then he left. After that, Aster secretly followed Enkrid.
‘What are you going off to do that you had to hit my nose for it?’
The tailing began out of pure curiosity. Aster’s decision to follow started from Enkrid’s whimsical fingertips. Something that had not happened the day before.
Tap, tap.
The black panther quickly moved through the alleys, stepping on rooftops unseen by others. Her steps were light and nimble. Moving without being seen by people was no trouble at all.
Like that, Aster set foot even in the underground area Enkrid had entered.
‘What is he up to now?’
It was pure curiosity. Then, from the place that bastard Enkrid had entered, she smelled a nasty spell scent.
‘If this goes wrong.’
It seemed the human she had chosen might die. That was a problem. He was a human she still needed.
She had to go inside. Spotting and avoiding spell traps was no trouble for Aster. Once, she was a witch who sang to the stars and embraced them.
A crude trap like this was nothing. And so, she saw the man fighting a ghoul.
‘Has his skill improved?’
She had no deep knowledge of the sword. However, she had watched Enkrid every single day, truly every day.
‘He has improved.’
She could see the degree of his growth. Then came the time he killed the wolf monsters. This was strange even to Aster’s eyes.
‘What is this?’
The man named Enkrid showed movements as if he were possessed. To Aster’s eyes, which pierced the darkness, his movements were a series of incomprehensible actions. He swung, cut, and thrust with his sword.
He kicked the wolves with his feet and knees. She thought it was a chaotic brawl, yet he suffered no fatal wounds. All he had were a few scratches, and even those were just on his armor.
Was it possible to fight in such a tangle and come out with that result?
‘Were the monsters half-wits?’
It did not seem so. Of course, if she had regained her original power, such monsters and beasts would not dare to even raise their heads towards her.
‘But he keeps going?’
It seemed about time for him to turn back. Enkrid kept moving forward, and eventually, Aster too saw the scene of the tragedy. She was not shocked.
Among those who concocted spells, there were all sorts of crazy bastards. And she eventually realized that the one beyond this was a mage.
‘What should I do?’
When he faced the mage, should she help? With the paltry power she had gathered so far? If she did, it would take even longer to regain her body.
She had imbued some of her energy into Enkrid’s armor, but still.
‘He’s being a pain.’
In the end, she postponed her decision, hid herself, and followed Enkrid. She saw him and the mage face each other. Enkrid exchanged a few words and then immediately continued his attack.
After that, Aster was surprised, and surprised again. It was understandable. In the eyes of the Lake Panther, hidden by the cloak of darkness, the man named Enkrid filled her vision.
And the man was in the middle of performing an unbelievable feat.