Chapter 381 - Too Excited to Think Straight
Enkrid stared at the tip of the sword that Aishia extended toward him.
It was the same as before.
Aishia's body seemed to fade away, leaving only the blade, with the tip blocking his vision. The distance between them disappeared. Aishia was no longer visible.
Soon, the tip of the sword began to tremble.
Is it starting already?
Why?
Is it because of what I said?
It sounded as though she was challenging him to prove himself.
The deepened breath, the wall he had to surpass without killing, the words of the boatman, the trembling tip of the sword.
The trembling point split. It appeared as several.
He imagined cutting through each one.
The one cutting them was always different.
He became Rem, then Ragna, then Jaxen.
As he faced the sword's tip, he could clearly feel the traits of those he had mimicked. It was only natural, as he had learned and practiced their methods.
Rem's way was to blend in and play.
Jaxen would clear the board before it even started, only engaging when the stage was set.
Ragna's method was to overwhelm the will his opponent showed with his own.
Enkrid repeated each one.
He had repeated it over three hundred times today.
They all seemed different, yet the same.
What allowed Rem and Ragna to do it?
It's the sense.
They could do it because they had a delicate and precise sense.
It might have been something like Jaxen's five senses, or something that only manifested when Ragna held a sword, but the conclusion was the same.
Enkrid had nurtured that precise sense. It all came back to the beginning.
"What the hell?"
Aishia spoke. Her voice echoed in his ears. The points disappeared from Enkrid's sight, and everything blurred as if it was fading. Naturally, that was because he had closed his eyes.
Darkness enveloped him. Soon, he felt everything through sound, touch, and instinct as he swung his sword.
With a diagonal strike, he pivoted on his left foot and transferred the power of his body's rotation into the swing of his waist. The blade felt as though it dropped abruptly in the air.
"Think you can do that?!"
Aishia shouted, pulling her sword and taking a defensive stance. It was a simple diagonal slash, but it couldn't block the tip. For those who couldn't see, the tip of the sword had no meaning.
In an instant, Enkrid's sword accelerated as if it was stretching.
Boom!
To deflect the attack, one had to pinpoint the exact strike, but the change in speed made that difficult.
Enkrid had introduced that change, but Aishia swiftly twisted her wrist and flicked the sword away.
If she couldn't block even that, the name of a junior-knight and the Red Cloak Knights would have been wasted.
Enkrid drew the deflected sword back with force and brought it down again.
Whoosh!
Aishia stepped back.
When Enkrid opened his eyes, Aishia once again aimed the tip of her sword and took her stance.
"Don't want to admit it's broken?"
Enkrid asked, still in the position where he had swung his sword downward.
"Try again."
Aishia said.
He didn't need to close his eyes. Enkrid purposely blurred his focus. If only a blurry image remained, it would disrupt his concentration. The sword's tip was a technique that used the opponent's focus against them.
That was all that was needed.
A lack of vision could easily be compensated by other senses.
Boom!
Enkrid twisted his wrist from the downward position and swung upward. The sword shot up like lightning. Aishia couldn't ignore it and had to block it. She raised her sword horizontally and, as she leaped back, she absorbed the raw strength of Enkrid's reckless might.
The blades collided and separated. Sparks flew between them with a crack.
Even though she deflected it, the force still impacted her body. Aishia knew very well she couldn't defeat him with strength alone.
Enkrid's half-closed eyes regained their focus.
"One more time?"
He asked.
"… What are you?"
Aishia couldn't understand what was happening.
The first time could have been written off as a fluke, but twice?
Truth be told, she had thought it was nothing but luck.
Enkrid had shattered the sword's tip focus.
But how was this possible?
During their previous training, he struggled just to handle the basics of it.
His technique wasn't perfect, and he had little experience against this kind of swordplay.
Yet, this was different.
It felt as though he had trained to aim specifically at her sword hundreds of times.
It felt like an attack precisely tailored to hit.
That thought created a crack in Aishia's mind.
My concentration is slipping.
The moment she realized it, Aishia steadied her mind. She regulated her breath.
If the mind is disrupted, the momentum falters. That's why Aishia ignored it. No, she expanded her mind to understand the situation better.
"Alright. So this is the so-called ridiculous talent that Luagarne mentioned?"
"Just lucky."
A typical excuse. It sounded like a provocation, and one corner of Aishia's lips curled up.
"You hear people say you're annoying, don't you?"
"Sometimes?"
"Yeah. You're annoying."
"Thanks for the compliment."
He couldn't be beaten with words. Among the knights, it was rare to find one who could talk like this.
Aishia wielded her sword as her words, replacing the use of her tongue.
Because she had more than just the sword's tip to rely on.
Even though the technique was broken, proficiency doesn't improve instantly.
That was a truth. But before even ten repetitions had passed, Aishia's common sense had been shaken, and cracks had appeared.
The completeness of Enkrid's technique was evident.
What had once been a rough swordsmanship had become more delicate.
For example, the openings when he swept and immediately followed up had lessened. Previously, he would over-extend his wrist, giving his opponent time to react, but now that wasn't the case.
From the angle at which his wrist bent to the force used to push the sword away, everything was precise. It was clear he had improved his finesse.
"That's impossible."
Was it a talent that made you shake your head in disbelief?
At this point, it was a level of skill surpassing even the senior members of the Order.
Aishia had to quickly move her feet to avoid the sword that bent like a snake as it followed her thrust.
Her reactions had become faster, and her timing felt better.
It wasn't just about breaking the tip of the sword.
How?
Had she spent months swinging a sword under a good teacher's guidance?
A series of surprises continued, but Aishia steeled herself once again.
"What is Will?"
It's heart, belief, and resolve.
How could someone who's broken inside possibly win in reality?
Based on her master's teachings, she gathered herself and focused. That was what Aishia did.
These words also applied to Enkrid's current situation.
By declaring that he didn't want to kill Aishia, he had gathered his own will.
Aishia was managing that in real time.
Indeed, the mindset of a knight was different.
"Ha!"
With the shout, she cleared her mind of distractions. Using her right foot as the axis, she rotated and thrust her sword with all her might.
The third technique of Will, following pressure and switching grips.
A high-speed thrust.
This technique was similar to Enkrid's momentary Will.
It was one of the basics of the knight's training.
Speed was always the truth.
Thud!
Enkrid received the thrust with the blade of his gladius.
He used his momentary Will in the same way.
This too.
When they had sparred before, even when he used Will, he would do it in distinct steps.
The segments were clear. When using his momentary Will, prior preparation was necessary. It was very apparent.
But now, it was different.
"You blocked that?"
"If you think it's luck, then keep trying."
Both of them laughed at the same time. Enkrid spoke as he slashed with his sword, while Aisia pretended to block horizontally before dodging with a swift motion.
As the sword lost its path during the downward strike, it was followed by another high-speed thrust.
Enkrid twisted his body. The tip of his sword narrowly grazed her cheek.
Her skin tore open, and droplets of blood splattered.
They continued to spar, with Enkrid surpassing Aishia's point but failing to fully dominate her.
To be precise, it ended in a draw.
Had they been trying to kill each other, one of them would have died, but neither had that intention.
So, they ended the fight, exhausted and wounded.
Enkrid had been stabbed in his left upper arm and could no longer raise his arm. Aishia had a large gash on her calf, which impaired her mobility.
After stepping back a few paces and pausing, Aishia asked,
"What are you, really?"
She asked again, her disbelief showing clearly.
"No, seriously, why are you smiling?"
Enkrid, smiling broadly, stood there in front of her.
Aishia found it completely absurd.
There's a limit to enjoying a fight. The fact that he was smiling in this situation meant something was wrong with him.
Soon, the sun began to set. The light from outside faded as the evening glow crept in.
Aishia furrowed her brow. Even now, Enkrid was still smiling.
Has he lost his mind from the fight?
It was possible.
Looking at Aishia, Enkrid spoke.
"I'm so excited, I feel like I'm going to die."
"What?"
What was he saying?
It seemed as though his eyes were filled with the fading sunlight. His gaze held the kind of passion and enthusiasm that formed a light.
Then, he spoke again.
"I'm so glad there's more to climb. I'm going crazy with joy."
It was pure joy, with no impurities.
Enkrid had added precision to his instincts for evasion and attack.
Despite the techniques he'd mastered, he still couldn't completely overpower Aishia.
That was why.
There was still room to improve, to train, and a road ahead of him. He could see it and touch it with his fingertips.
That made him genuinely happy.
"You crazy bastard."
Aishia, too, collected herself and labeled him.
It was a familiar phrase.
"That's not a wall."
The ferryman appeared in his dream. He seemed to be more idle than usual.
He couldn't even respond. After all, it was a dream. It was more like a fleeting afterimage.
However, it was a vivid afterimage that stayed in his memory.
No matter what, it seemed like he had to follow the ferryman's words.
"Kill her."
Someone gave an order, and it felt like he had no choice but to follow it.
Enkrid cheerfully ignored it.
"It's such a good morning."
Speaking to himself before dawn, Enkrid left.
Rem, who had just woken up, squinted and tilted his head at Enkrid's back.
"Why the hell are you so crazy first thing in the morning?"
The strange atmosphere from the night before still hung in the air. What could possibly be so great?
There was meaning behind Rem's words, but Enkrid paid no mind.
He then continued to train his body using the Isolation technique. His thoughts naturally aligned and reached their conclusion.
It was about the wall.
A wall is a condition.
If the condition is to kill the thrusting pervert, then that's the wall.
Sometimes, the condition was just to survive.
Sometimes, the condition was simply to parry a knight's sword.
In all of today, was there only one path?
No.
So, this time, it was the same.
No matter what the ferryman said, Enkrid did what he always did.
He did what he wanted to do.
A while later, Esther transformed into her human form and said she was going out. Enkrid, seeing this, said,
"Bring back a melon."
Melons were a rare fruit from the southern regions. They were hard to find in this part of the continent.
"Your condition seems to be getting worse every day."
Esther spoke indifferently, moving without much thought. She had concluded that understanding this man was impossible.
"Why are you so excited? Do you feel like flying?"
It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other for just a day or two. Rem could clearly see that Enkrid was more excited than usual.
Jaxen had also noticed and gave him a strange look. Dunbakel seemed to be lost in thought, and Ragna, well, he was never one to care about such things.
It was natural for Enkrid to be excited. That was to be expected.
There had been some heavy burdens on his heart, but they had vanished.
It was like taking off a weighted vest and suddenly feeling light.
He could also see the path ahead, and it was thrilling to walk it.
"Oh, just thinking about knocking someone out is making my heart race."
Enkrid said.
Naturally, Rem couldn't understand him, but didn't bother questioning it.
Soon, the constable appeared, and as Enkrid knocked him out with a blow, Rem asked,
"Were you planning on knocking this guy out?"
Did he know the constable was coming?
That was the meaning behind Rem's question.
Enkrid laughed.
"No."
The person he planned to knock out was the orange-haired female knight.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
To get more chapters and support my work head over to my ko-fi!
Ko-fi.com/samowek
Thank you!