‘Do you think knowing will help you overcome it?’
The ferryman’s question lingered in his mind.
Encrid also remembered his own response.
‘It doesn’t matter if I don’t know.’
That was the truth. There was not a single lie in it.
Above all, he enjoyed facing the Shepherd immensely.
How to put it?
A half-blood giant, the Swift Blade, the Count Molsen’s guard, the Rapier Swordsman.
And others who stayed by his side.
Rem and Ragna, Jaxon and Audin.Facing them all had not stimulated him as much.
Their skills were roughly similar, and their attitude and age all played a part.
Above all, he felt a sense of advancement.
Encrid’s actual skill didn’t dramatically improve with just one spar or one brush with death.
Even if his dull senses became sharper, even if he now had a body that moved as he intended with a courageous heart.
Even if he possessed superhuman concentration to see and dodge incoming arrows.
The feeling and sensation of advancing couldn’t be ignored. It approached him with exhilaration.
“The stars are out.”
Encrid stepped outside before Bell arrived.
Stars twinkled in the sky, and two moons were up. It was a dual moon night.
It had to be said that it was a night unusually bright.
The autumn night air was refreshingly cool compared to summer.
A cool breeze brushed past his ears. This would soon turn into cold.
In this brief autumn, Encrid liked the temperature.
Rem, curious about what he was up to, peeked his head out of the lodging.
“There are still mosquitoes. What are you doing?”
Buzz.
Before the words were fully out, a mosquito buzzed past his ear.
Encrid’s left hand swiftly rose and caught the mosquito, killing it.
Clenching his fist, Encrid turned and said.
“Going for a walk.”
“Suddenly?”
“Just felt like it.”
“You’re quite sentimental. What, losing so often getting to you?”
Encrid took a step and asked.
“If there was someone you had to defeat without even touching, what would you do?”
“I’d crush their head before they could move.”
Rem answered straightforwardly. Encrid was known for asking random questions often.
After answering, Rem scratched his ear and continued.
“Do you know? The Commander’s questions are always so random.”
“Are they?”
Encrid agreed.
Why wouldn’t he?
There are times he walks alone.
There are days he experiences alone.
There are moments he enjoys alone.
Encrid’s questions come from experiencing those moments and time alone.
“They are random.”
Encrid replied vaguely and moved on.
“Make sure to visit a temple sometime, from what I see, your head seems to be quite crazily broken.”
That bastard.
That mouth of his is always a problem. Thanks to Rem, even the ferryman had said something weird.
In any case.
Encrid thought walls also appeared quite randomly before him.
Is this the ferryman’s trick?
Or is this what life inherently is?
Unexpected moments, unpredictable deaths, if this was another wall like before, he couldn’t overcome it just by learning through one death.
Nevertheless.
‘Ah, this will be fun.’
Encrid felt an unbearable joy.
He walked and soon met Bell coming from the opposite direction. Naturally. He was walking the path Bell was coming from.
In other words, the path to the castle gate.
“Huh? Where are you going?”
Bell asked.
“Where are you going?”
“I was on my way to call the Commander.”
They exchanged words, similar to a day they had experienced before.
Encrid recalled the things he knew.
From the moment the priest and Bell were together, the screams that rattled his head, the monstrous cries that seemed to come from the abyss of hell.
It was less a sound and more something that grabbed at his ankles from below.
Of course, that wasn’t the important part. The thing that had burrowed into his body wasn’t a spell or a poison.
To put it bluntly, it was someone’s scream filled with malice.
‘For now.’
He forgot what he had recalled. First came the fight. It was about the sparring. His opponent’s skill was excellent, even without considering their swordsmanship.
Let’s see, should he start like Rem?
Encrid couldn’t hide his joy, a smile constantly played on his face.
Seeing this, Bell tilted his head.
No matter how you looked at it, this person didn’t seem normal.
“If you’re feeling unwell, you can go back.”
Bell spoke with concern.
“No.”
Encrid was firm. His eyes were wide open, and he straightened his back.
“Huh?”
“I said no.”
Encrid’s words were like a firm request, and his steps were incredibly light.
If anyone knew his situation, every company member would shake their heads in disbelief.
Could you call those steps heading toward death?
They were more like a child going on a picnic.
Encrid showed light and cheerful steps as he headed out of the castle gate.
The similar conversation ended again.
“Then.”
Encrid took his stance, and his opponent drew a dagger.
Exhilaration, excitement, and anticipation pounded in Encrid’s heart. His entire skin tingled.
And Encrid followed Rem’s advice.
Thud.
He immediately maximized the Heart of Great Strength and swung his sword.
Whoosh.
The Middle Sword Technique, Lion Slash.
A downward strike that extended outwards. It was a dynamic slash, incredibly fast and powerful enough to cut down a moving target.
His opponent reacted. Perhaps they judged that it was a strike too strong to block with a mere dagger.
Clang! Thud!
The opponent partially drew their sword from the scabbard, grasped the handle with one hand and the scabbard with the other, and blocked the attack.
Clang!
The Lion Slash was blocked. As Encrid applied force to hold his position, the opponent did the same.
Scrrrch.
The two swords met and greeted each other.
Steel against steel began to play a symphony.
With their blades crossed, Encrid and the Shepherd locked eyes.
For a moment, they assessed each other’s capabilities through their gaze.
Encrid thought anew that this person’s skill might be greater than he had seen in their previous encounters.
‘If this person who usually wields a sword is using a dagger?’
Then maybe that was the case.
Of course, it didn’t matter. Whether the opponent drew their sword or not, that was their choice.
Encrid had decided to stick with his own choice.
From a distance, Bell swallowed hard as he watched.
That marked the beginning of the clash similar to the ones they had before.
Encrid pressed his opponent hard. He ignored the minor injuries inflicted by the dagger. As long as he avoided critical points, he aimed to cut him down within the range of his sword.
Trusting his body’s senses and innate reflexes, he moved to end the fight with a single strike.
In the end, the Shepherd drew his sword again.
This time, the swordplay was different from when he had cut his forehead.
Ping! Pang! Clang!
The Shepherd deflected Encrid’s light one-handed thrusts with the dagger, then used the opposite hand to throw the sheathed sword upwards. After drawing the sword, he threw the scabbard.
Equally immersed, Encrid reacted to all the opponent’s movements.
Using strength to retrieve his sword, he turned it into a heavy downward strike, and he blocked the flying scabbard with his forehead.
Despite the scabbard hitting his forehead with a pop and bouncing off, Encrid didn’t close his eyes.
As long as he didn’t lose sight of the opponent’s sword, he could evade.
He had the Sense of Evasion. It wasn’t impossible.
Whoosh!
The Shepherd grabbed the sword he had thrown into the air, and its blade curved like a snake, cutting Encrid’s cheek.
He dodged but missed by just half a finger’s breadth.
A fierce battle continued, both fully immersed.
‘I saw it.’
The opponent’s skill was formidable. Encrid judged it to be higher than the Swift Blade.
Avoiding such an opponent’s blade without a single scratch was exceedingly difficult.
But difficulty didn’t mean he would give up.
He only recalled what he learned from today’s clash.
A scream echoed in his ears again.
“Ah, this shouldn’t happen. I cut you without realizing.”
He heard the opponent mutter.
A monstrous cry, as if from the depths of hell, grabbed his ankle.
His body was getting heavy.
From just one experience, Encrid knew what was happening.
And knowing the pain could kill him, but it couldn’t stop him.
“What is that sword?”
“Do you have any idea?”
“Because I think I’m about to die. Just tell me.”
“Speaking even when you’re cut? You’re an interesting person. This is a sword with a demon’s soul. I swore not to use it carelessly on people. So, I’m sorry.”
His words were disjointed, as always, the guy lacked sense.
“Alright, I get it. Pel.”
“…Did I ever tell you my name?”
He hadn’t. He heard it in the first instance of ‘today’.
That was the end.
He died.
“You’re insane.”
The ferryman appeared for the second time in a row.
Seeing him, Encrid spoke his mind without realizing it.
It wasn’t intentional. This was a dream, which made it impossible to hide his true feelings.
“Are you bored lately?”
The ferryman’s body swayed on the boat. The purple lamp also swayed.
Silence followed. Brief but very quiet. The black river made no sound of flowing water.
At the end of the silence.
“Bastard…”
The ferryman tried to utter some curse but Encrid woke up immediately.
Encrid, upon waking, immediately questioned Ragna.
“Is there a sword technique that can block all attacks?”
“Where did you hear that? It’s the ultimate technique of the Fluid Sword Technique.”
The Fluid Sword Technique was a flowing, streaming sword style.
A sword that achieves both offense and defense simultaneously.
“Can you do it?”
“The basics.”
If he couldn’t evade with the Sense of Evasion due to speed and timing.
‘Then I’ll just have to block.’
That was the plan. After learning the basics of the Fluid Sword Technique from Ragna, he set out again in the evening.
Still.
‘Today will be more fun.’
Thanks to two experiences, he figured out some of his opponent’s habits.
Today, he would use that knowledge.
So began the third day.
“Do you know me?”
“No.”
“Then why do you look at me like that? Do you have a habit of pretending to be familiar with people?”
The Shepherd tilted his head.
Encrid ignored him.
They clashed again. It wasn’t until after he fell for it that he realized what he thought was a habit was a trap.
Barely overcoming and clashing swords again.
This time, the blade grazed his thigh.
Since he wasn’t wearing armor, the blade cut through his pants and left a wound.
Again, screams, monstrous cries from the abyss.
As he tried to speak, a similar question returned.
“Do you have it?”
Why did he keep asking if he had something?
“What?”
The Shepherd answered as if it were obvious.
“Will.”
“No.”
Encrid didn’t say much more before he died again.
How to put it, this death felt particularly frustrating. His neck wasn’t cut, nor was his heart crushed.
If he had to determine the cause of death, what would it be?
‘Heart attack?’
The experience of feeling his heart stop was rare even for Encrid, who had died many times.
In any case, something had burrowed into his body from the wound and then scrambled and shook his mind.
That was all. To put it metaphorically.
‘It feels like a bug entered my body.’
The bug was incredibly swift and relentless, tearing his body apart.
It strangled and shattered his heart.
The fourth day, the fifth day.
Encrid refined his Fluid Sword Technique.
During the repetition of twenty-eight days.
“Take care.”
He began to familiarize himself with his opponent’s swordsmanship.
“Just so you know, I won’t know even if I die.”
Srrng.
With just a few swings, Encrid forced the Shepherd to draw his sword.
Encrid tried both dodging and blocking.
He repeated this process.
The unexpected wall continued to bring Encrid death.
After forty-seven times, Encrid muttered as soon as he opened his eyes.
“If I can’t dodge or block?”
It was a rare early morning when Rem was already awake. He spoke up.
“…Go on, tell me. What kind of dream did you have this time? I used to do some dream interpretation in my youth. So, what kind of dream was it?”
“A dream where I die if I get even a scratch.”
Encrid was straightforward.
“You need to give more details. Your attitude is all wrong.”
Encrid got up and moved through his usual routine.
Practicing the Isolation Technique, training, refining the Fluid Sword Technique.
“Did you already know some of this, or did you learn it somewhere?”
Ragna commented as he watched Encrid’s swordplay. It was a remark on how much his skill had improved overnight.
Encrid didn’t notice it himself.
His mind was cluttered.
‘Is killing one skilled opponent the wall? Is that all it takes?’
He pondered what the wall truly was.
Reflecting on it, the ferryman’s walls were never ordinary enemies.
‘The piercing freak.’
From the start.
‘The magical trap.’
From the sudden trap.
‘I could only use one hand.’
None of the walls were simple. When he was heading toward the enemy’s banner, he had even faced sorcery.
So, what was it this time?
Around the seventieth day, Encrid inflicted a major wound on his opponent.
Thump!
The Shepherd coughed up blood from the slash beneath his chest.
It seemed more like internal damage from the impact than a mere cut.
“Damn, you didn’t dodge and just rushed in?”
Encrid swung his blade, using it like a blunt weapon, despite being cut by his opponent’s sword. The Shepherd spoke informally for the first time, surprise evident in his eyes.
“I saw an opening.”
“Even though I told you, you’d die if my sword pierced you?”
Yes, he said those words before the fight began.
If you get cut, you die. Even a scratch will kill you. He said he didn’t want to reach such a situation and just wanted to test his skills through sparring.
But why should it be that way?
Encrid truly, genuinely didn’t want that.
A fight pushed to the limit, an opponent that made him pour out everything for the first time since Mitch Hurrier.
‘If you are the wall.’
What happens if we both die?
This question arose in Encrid’s mind.
And on the eighty-ninth day, the question was resolved.
“Gah!”
He took his opponent’s sword and put a hole in his belly.
A sword that pierced through the skin, cut the intestines, and broke a few ribs for good measure. As soon as Encrid plunged his sword in, he twisted his wrist and pulled it out.
Blood gushed from the twisted and extracted wound. The Shepherd’s complexion turned pale.
Blood dripped to the ground, and if the sun had been shining, you would have seen the pink of his intestines.
Clutching his belly with his hand, he mumbled.
“Ah, I can’t die here, I have so much to do.”
The Shepherd’s eyes glazed over. Death shadowed his face.
His eyes looked at Encrid, then somewhere far off into the void.
Finally, his gaze returned to Encrid, and the Shepherd spoke.
“This wasn’t necessary.”
“Really?”
Encrid’s neck was also cut by the opponent’s sword. He spoke while covering the wound with his hand, his voice rough. The wound wasn’t deep.
Blood flowed freely, but it wasn’t a mortal wound.
The problem was that the Shepherd’s sword was not ordinary.
In the meantime, something had changed.
‘I can endure it.’
More than eighty repetitions of ‘today’. That meant eighty experiences of the same thing.
Unconsciously, Encrid resisted the something imbued in his opponent’s sword.
However, the conclusion didn’t change.
Death loomed. With screams, something roamed his body as if it were its own home, ravaging his heart and brain.
“Damn it! Commander!”
Bell’s voice was heard from behind. It was Bell’s cry as he approached, heard because death had been delayed.
He opened his eyes to greet a new day.
Encrid lay there thinking for a moment before half-rising from his bed.
He returned to his routine, finishing the Isolation Technique from early dawn and returning to the barracks.
He asked in front of all the Company members.
“Who can use Will?”
He clearly felt that now, more than ever, he needed to understand it, at least partially.
He decided that when the time came, he would overcome it.
He believed that time had come.
He couldn’t overcome it all at once.
He didn’t believe he would become a Knight in a single leap. But if it was a fragment, he felt it was now time to reach out for it.
That was Encrid’s belief.
The time to walk and reach out was now.
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