Chapter 377 - Meeting the End of the Sword
The swaying sword's violet lamp flickered above the rippling river. As the ferry rocked, his body swayed along with it.
Enkrid remained silent, sitting at the far end of the boat. The ferryman spoke again.
"There is an easy way."
Enkrid did not respond. The ferryman spoke once more.
"Flee."
His lips moved only slightly, and his voice echoed, lingering over the boat.
"Run and don't face your death. Then, I'll take care of it."
Instead of answering, Enkrid lowered his gaze, as if his mind was filled with countless thoughts.
The ferryman's mouth opened again. His flickering and echoing voice once again floated over the boat.
"If you don't want to escape, use your tongue. Convince your opponent and prepare for what comes after. If it's the two of you, you can handle it."
If Enkrid and Aishia joined forces, they could deal with whoever appeared next.
Knowing the future meant knowing today's repetition.
Though not every day would be exactly the same, the larger framework would remain unchanged.
After fighting Enkrid, Aishia's stamina was depleted, and she was injured. Enkrid was in the same condition.
If they could join forces while maintaining their strength and without injuries, they could definitely handle the situation. They might even turn the tide and win.
It was a fight for their lives, and if the two were on the same side, it would definitely be an advantage.
Of course, it wasn't a fight they would always win.
"Do you want to know exactly what the wall is?"
The ferryman's words were devoid of emotion as usual. He only spoke facts, free of sentiment.
Enkrid did not answer, continuing to listen to the ferryman's words.
Was he reflecting on his own thoughts?
The ferryman tapped his foot against the bottom of the boat.
The boat swayed violently with the motion, and Enkrid, who had been sitting, reached out to steady himself. He lifted his head, his gaze vacant, lost in thought, his mouth slightly open.
These were the things the ferryman saw.
Enkrid's eyes seemed to regain focus, then he asked a question.
"Huh?"
"What did you just say?"
The ferryman, though showing signs of irritation, held back and repeated the question.
Enkrid blinked twice before replying.
"Oh, I didn't hear."
It was the truth. He hadn't heard, focused on something else. As always, Enkrid answered sincerely.
"...Go."
The ferryman's mouth moved quicker than expected.
Enkrid had completely ignored his words. It wasn't that he heard with one ear and let it slip out the other. He didn't reject the words, he simply disregarded them entirely.
Even the ferryman could have been displeased by this.
"Huh?"
Enkrid's blank stare, despite him actually asking the question again, appeared distasteful.
Purity can sometimes be a weapon that causes frustration in the heart of the other.
"I said go."
The ferryman didn't bother getting angry or asking why. It was enough to let him go. There was a reason for sending him.
'I'll watch.'
He would see what Enkrid was thinking, what actions he intended to take. That would reveal itself in time.
"Oh, okay."
Enkrid nodded without feeling embarrassed.
Soon, Enkrid's figure blurred and disappeared from the boat. The ferryman was left alone, silently gazing into the darkness.
He would likely repeat the same today.
And again, he would face such moments. On the boat, in the darkness, he would meet himself. It was a given.
The ferryman saw the repetition of today in advance.
What was destined to happen would happen.
What was predetermined would unfold as such.
Although Enkrid had startled him a few times, that was the extent of it.
There would be no walls to overcome in a single day.
Today's repetition was a cycle of pain and suffering. It was a structure that couldn't be avoided. That was the core of the curse.
However, for the madman, even pain became a form of ecstasy.
'Madman.'
The ferryman's gaze blurred. It wasn't the black river he was staring at, but the image of Enkrid, who had been cursed to live out a repetitive life.
The curse revealed his figure.
The ferryman watched.
He would repeat the same day.
He woke at dawn, trained his body.
He used kicking the constable as a form of persuasion.
He sent Ragna and Dunbakel, to deal with the advancing group.
He made a fellow feel ashamed by saying he was the one who had been hurt, the one who had been stabbed, when facing a group of assassins.
He headed for the palace and immediately cut down the ill-fated person who blocked his path.
He killed them without hesitation.
"Wasn't it a maid who was raped? I didn't even ask and just killed him."
"What?"
Ignoring the other's astonishment, he had no interest in the past that stood before him.
Even if there was a grudge for nearly killing the curse's master, it didn't show. It wasn't that there wasn't a grudge.
But,
'Right now, he's focused on something else.'
Enkrid looked at the maid, not the stunned man.
He silently asked with his eyes if it was true. The maid, trembling, nodded.
Then, there was a process of slashing and killing.
And so, once again, he faced the wall.
A female knight with orange hair stood before him.
"That's enough."
She blocked his way. Enkrid raised his sword.
There was no question. It was inevitable, so there was no reason to ask.
No, his thought process didn't work that way.
The ferryman briefly glimpsed a part of Enkrid's mind. It was filled with a sense of expectation.
'That bastard.'
Enkrid was here to face the wall, to clash swords with that female knight.
It was the same repetition of today.
Though the details weren't exactly the same, it was a similar day.
There were, of course, other differences. The one before this, before reaching this point. The change that had occurred during his morning training.
"Rem, how did you do it?"
It was around the time the morning sun was directly overhead. Despite the constable's chatter in between, Enkrid had spoken with the man named Rem.
"This bastard, I came all this way and you're talking nonsense."
"Wait a moment."
Enkrid said that, then asked again.
The constable, who had been stunned, stood there.
"The end of the sword. You blocked it with an axe blade, didn't you?"
"The axe blade end, you mean?"
Rem, who blinked, gave a short, concise explanation.
"You just need to block it properly."
He couldn't offer much more of an explanation, and Enkrid didn't seem interested in hearing any further, so he turned his body away.
That was the difference in today's repetition.
"Inoooom!"
The constable, ignored, became furious.
That was all.
After that, Enkrid stood before the wall, wielding his sword and attempting something, only to meet a similar result.
He was defeated, stabbed, and collapsed to the ground.
Another difference from the previous today was something that the boatman already knew.
Enkrid did not.
His gaze swept across Aishia's back.
The one Aishia had called a senior did not appear.
Instead…
"I'll check the back."
Aishia left, and that was the end of it. A little time passed, and the darkness came again. Today ended once more.
The boatman gazed at the opposite side of the boat.
Fragments, like grains of sand, gathered. The scattered particles began to form a human shape, slowly changing.
It was Enkrid.
The boatman felt a surge of curiosity. He had no need to suppress it, so he opened his mouth.
"I'll ask one thing."
"Huh?"
Enkrid, still with a blank look, stood there.
"You couldn't even hear me speaking in front because you were thinking about something, right?"
Enkrid opened his mouth without hesitation. There was nothing to hide, nothing to conceal.
But why was this being asked, he wondered.
"I was thinking about how to block the tip of a sword."
Seeing the zeal and intensity in Enkrid's eyes, the boatman was certain.
Enkrid had focused entirely on one thing.
He had only seen the opponent with a sword in front of him. No matter what the wall was, no matter what else, he had only seen and recognized the sword, pouring all his attention into it.
The boatman spoke words that he didn't need to say but could still say under his authority.
"Do you consider that a wall?"
He had intended to say no. He was going to tell him to look at the real wall.
"I don't know."
That was the reply.
Is there anything else you want to say? If not, just let me think for a bit.
The boatman felt emotions. It was absurd. It was confusing. With no intention or ulterior motive behind it, the pure response he had received caused all the words he had planned to mock the other to vanish in an instant. They mixed into the darkness, crushed, and flowed away.
"Go ahead."
The boatman read his thoughts and answered.
Fine, do as you wish. What you're seeing now isn't a wall, though.
Enkrid disappeared again, blurring, scattering, and vanishing.
'Foolish.'
But even so, the boatman had expected this. And even if Enkrid crossed this wall, it would leave a deep scar on him.
He chuckled.
If he saw Enkrid suffer now, it would be the most enjoyable thing.
If Enkrid overcame this wall, that very fact would become like a curse to him, the boatman knew.
'One thing is clear.'
It's better to imitate Rem's method.
Not just Rem's method, but to try everyone's approach at least once.
Imitation is one of the quickest ways to understand the object of mimicry.
'My method comes next.'
If there's a path, walk it. Enkrid did that.
What is the wall, and how far does it go?
If he had asked the boatman, he might have received an answer. Today's boatman gave off that impression. But it didn't matter. He didn't need to know.
So, he didn't ask. Instead, he pondered.
"What are you thinking about from the morning?"
It was the third today. During the morning training, Enkrid stood still, lost in thought, and after a while, Rem arrived and asked. Enkrid asked the key question even earlier than yesterday.
"How did you block the tip of the axe?"
Despite the sudden question, Rem wasn't surprised. Enkrid had been like this for a while now.
So, the answer came quickly.
"Aisia's sword was pointed at me. I point my axe at the opponent's sword tip."
Even still, the explanation was like a chaotic stage with barking dogs. It was a mess. It was difficult and confusing. But if he had intended to give up, he would have never picked up a sword in the first place.
Moreover, Rem himself was aware that his explanation was hard to follow.
"Try pointing with a burning torch."
Rem pulled out a long-handled axe and spoke.
Though he held it lightly, the weapon had a surprisingly good balance, and it was heavier than expected.
Anyway, just by holding it, the weight was different.
Enkrid drew his flame-tipped sword.
Ping, he drew the sword and pointed it. The thin, sharp blade was aimed ahead.
Doing this, it seemed like the first step of imitation was to follow the sword tip pointing.
'Pressure and killing intent mixed in.'
In a way, it was the complete opposite of Saxen's deadly stabbing.
A sword that deceives by applying pressure to the opponent.
Enkrid couldn't immediately imitate it. Instead, he was still pointing his sword.
Thung.
Rem struck the sword's tip with the axe's blade. To be precise, he struck the sharp part of the blade.
"Got it?"
Enkrid didn't respond but fell into thought.
He replayed what Rem had just done in his mind.
A physical explanation was much easier to understand than words. He meditated on it alone. Enkrid understood.
Rem had struck the point of the sword with the sharpest edge of his axe's blade.
The edge and the point met perfectly.
It was a feat beyond mere skill—it was almost miraculous.
Soon, this action contained a question.
Could he meet the sword tips at the same speed and power as before?
"Ah."
A gasp escaped.
"Try it. You'll understand once you do."
Rem took a step back, and Enkrid slowly grabbed his two swords, Flame and Gladius.
It's easy to make the blades meet.
But what about the points?
What about the edges and the points?
If the speed is slow, it's possible.
If you reduce the speed, it's difficult, but still doable.
He unconsciously tensed his muscles. This brought unnecessary force into the action, making it awkward.
How could he make this movement natural?
What skill would be needed for this?
"That's right. If you can do that, you'll be fine."
Rem spoke as he tucked his long-handled axe into his belt.
It was as if he was saying that he had said everything he needed to say.
Enkrid didn't even nod. He quickly immersed himself in his own world.
Rem thought he was a fascinating person, but when he looked at Andrew, he raised a finger and brought it to his lips.
There was no sound of "shh," but Andrew, who was about to speak, closed his mouth.
Rem gestured for Andrew to step back three steps, and Andrew spoke.
"What is it?"
"I'll personally oversee today's training."
"…It's fine. I can do it alone."
"No, it's not fine. I'll carry out the Commander's wishes."
"But Commander Enkrid isn't dead."
"The continental language is still clumsy."
What did that mean? He had never heard the western dialect.
Andrew's unspoken words were dismissed by his expression.
Enkrid, hearing the surrounding sounds, slipped into his thoughts. He sank into himself, contemplating.
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