Chapter 405 - A Gaze That Sees One Step Ahead
Thanks to the sword of a mad shepherd, Enkrid learned the Will of Rejection.
Then, through the exploration of speed, he obtained the Will of Momentum.
From intimidation, he derived the Will of Supression.
Enkrid had awakened and moved forward with his own Will.
As he did so, he naturally reflected on the path he had walked and drew the path he would take.
The Crushing Sword was a great sword, while the Sword of the Moment was a quick sword.
The Will of Rejection was the way to steady one's mind, and though it didn't yet embody the Will, there was a swordsmanship close to a counterattack technique called the Snake Blade, which was soft but wouldn't turn the blade into a cotton ball when struck.
And now.
He had once seen and faced the sword used by a man who cuts off one's flow.
It wasn't that he fought without thought in the joy of combat. He had seen it all. He had even experienced it firsthand by taking it on his body.
Through review, he realized something.
What was the secret of the sword that cut off one's flow?
It was the eyes.
The man's Will was in his eyes.
By seeing, grasping, and judging, he would sever the flow.
Thus, one could not sever the flow of a superior opponent. It was close to a half-finished technique.
Enkrid had also seen the Iron Wall technique used by a man named Riebarth before he changed.
It was absolute defense through shield and armor.
It was a technique that aimed to overwhelm the opponent through prolonged engagement.
What was the core of that?
Was it physical strength that created the Iron Wall? The power to endure by training the center of the body? Or the strength of the legs?
The most important thing was one.
'Resilience.'
It was the Will that persists.
It was the longest technique Enkrid had seen that manifested the Will over time.
The Iron Wall defense was a technique that endured by placing the Will that we call strength in the center of the body.
Eyes and persistence.
He grasped, reflected, and realized.
Now, he would mix in the sense of attack. It was the sharpness that opened the door to intuition.
What he truly wanted was to make the Capturing Sword, the orthodox form, incorporate Will into it.
The reason this was possible was clear.
It was something he had already experienced. He had done it.
It was when he faced the Centaur leader wielding a glaive.
His senses were on full alert, and based on countless experiences, he predicted the opponent's actions. With his developed five senses, he could avoid and strike by glimpsing the future.
It was the moment when accumulated experience led to realization.
When resolve became the will and shone to influence reality.
It was the moment when the intangible Will manifested in reality.
Enkrid's eyes watched his opponent's entire body. The movement of muscles, the change in fingers, the direction of feet, differences in breathing, and even the effect of drifting dust.
His senses went wild. For an ordinary human, it would have felt like their head was about to explode from the flood of information.
Enkrid only took in what was necessary.
This was a skill enabled by the death experiences accumulated through today's repetition.
Thanks to the experience he had built up, his sense of what was needed became sharper than ever.
The sword flying toward him was thin like thread, but he barely blocked it, meaning he could still react.
Though it was certainly a threatening and dangerous moment, Enkrid named the technique based on his Will.
He named it, properly recognizing and using it.
A Gaze That Sees One Step Ahead.
It was a technique based on Will. Enkrid saw his opponent's next move.
As he had said, he had similar experiences before, but this time, it was much clearer and more vivid.
Based on the countless experiences he had built up, the sword he wielded drew a line toward the future, toward tomorrow.
If it were Ragna, he would have reached it in an instant, but Enkrid walked in his own way and reached it, so there was no need to envy the talents of others.
This was the crucial difference between Enkrid and the opponent right in front of him.
He never knew despair or frustration, so he forgot envy and just moved forward.
Huh.
For the first time, he dodged the sword that had turned into thread. Riebarth's sword passed through part of Enkrid's head.
The severed hair scattered into the air.
In a brief moment, Enkrid made the minimal movement needed to strike.
In reality, this was the result of reading and rereading his opponent's moves multiple times.
Based on the captured sword, he pushed with sparks, used the Crushing Sword, endured, and delivered a blow.
The tip of the gladius, now shorter and rougher, pierced his opponent's chest.
Even if Riebarth had turned into a monster, his heart would not have become two.
Thud!
The sensation of the blade sinking into muscle was transmitted through the handle.
Enkrid fell backward immediately after thrusting, and Riebarth's left fist passed through the space Enkrid had occupied.
If it had landed properly, it was a punch that would have surely broken something.
Enkrid managed to avoid it as he fell back, and while his posture became unstable, he kicked the sword he had thrust with his soles.
Thwack! Whoosh!
The tip of the blade came out behind his opponent's back.
"Guh!"
Riebarth spat out blood. Crimson blood poured over Enkrid's face.
Enkrid rolled backward with the falling blood and hid a whistle dagger in his left hand while gripping the silver handle with his right.
Crimson blood dripped from his chin. Enkrid, without flinching, raised his sword from the position where one knee was on the ground.
His eyes burned with pain, and his head throbbed.
His senses, once unleashed, now combined with intuition, predicting his opponent's moves. The pain in his head was to be expected.
He couldn't use it against a real knight. But right now, his opponent wasn't a knight.
Having fought, Enkrid knew that all too well.
"Damn gods."
Rievart muttered as he looked at the sword stuck in his chest. Blood began to flow from his eyes.
His gaze never met Enkrid's.
He stared at his past life.
He was called a genius. They said he was a hero who would lift his family. But what had he gained by pushing forward? What did he see at the end of the road?
Only an endless cliff.
Only the darkness ahead.
A wall that wouldn't allow him to touch what was within his reach.
"Damn gods."
He cursed the world.
He cursed endlessly.
Rievart pulled the iron from his chest with his own hands.
Blood poured from the wound where the sword had been.
It was a fatal wound. There was no way to survive.
Or perhaps, he might have survived.
Rievart knew the secret of the Count. So, if he went to the Count, perhaps this life could be restored.
After all, wasn't he no longer human, but a chimera?
Therefore, it wasn't wrong for him to struggle to survive here.
But what would he be able to do if he lived?
There was no way back now.
"Is this all there is to being a knight?"
He had sacrificed everything for that.
Now, it was over.
His eyes turned to the one who had dragged him into this reality.
Once again, resentment, despair, and frustration filled his world, and Rievart cursed his opponent.
"You too will end up the same."
A man who struggled to become a knight.
"You won't survive this battlefield either."
It was a curse filled with the wish that Enkrid would die.
Of course, Enkrid didn't hear it at all. That's why he didn't respond.
Rievart crumpled like a doll. He fell forward, collapsing onto the ground.
Crimson blood poured from his body and seeped into the earth.
Enkrid gazed at it nonchalantly, thinking.
Blood, earth, death.
He still didn't like it.
Though the battle was still ongoing, the area around Enkrid was calm.
The cheers of victory and the disappointment of defeat were absent.
The aftermath of the battle between Enkrid and Rievart had been too overwhelming.
The old commander of the kingdom's army, who had been watching their fight from a distance, clenched his fist and spoke.
"Have you ever witnessed a fight between knights? What I just saw was worse than that."
The commander muttered, and his adjutant subtly nodded in agreement.
A shiver ran through the commander's body. As he kept his eyes on the battlefield, Enkrid's voice rang out.
"This war ends here."
It sounded like he was ordering the end of the fighting.
"Stop the fighting. I'll put an end to this damned war."
He spoke again.
If they didn't like it, they could stop him.
Was it impossible to stop now that the fighting had already begun?
If words didn't work, force would do the talking.
And if there was anyone encouraging more fighting, just slap them on the nose.
Ragna, Rem, Jaxen, and Audin were already at the point where they could stop a fight with the skill of seasoned knights.
"What's this, you want us to stop now?"
Rem asked as he approached, his voice cutting through the tension.
It wasn't just Rem.
"So, what do we do now?"
Ragna was there too.
"It wasn't bad," Jaxen chimed in.
All three had carved through their opponents. They had come this far while sensing Rievart's transformation.
Ragna had just cut through the shield formations blocking his path, refining his skills along the way.
Rem had cleaved through the skull of a man wielding two hammers and torn a fairy in half.
Jaxen had killed all five of the adjutants who had hidden in various spots.
Their opponents had never stood a chance.
The three could have joined the fight with Enkrid, but they hadn't.
They had seen the sword transform before their eyes. Anyone who wasn't amazed by that would be lying.
That's why they hadn't intervened.
They could tell things were about to change, and Enkrid's will to win was clear.
Rem, Ragna, and Jaxen admired him in secret.
Now, they knew they couldn't play around with him.
Despite Enkrid stepping in and commanding the battle to stop, the fighting didn't cease immediately. But slowly, the conflict around him started to fade.
"Tell them to stop."
Enkrid sighed deeply. It wasn't that he wasn't tired.
But he didn't want to repeat today. He needed to move forward.
Rem couldn't help but like this leader.
He was absurd, yes, but his declaration to end the war, his arrogance, appealed to him deeply.
It wasn't a boastful statement.
It was a statement of resolve, of determination.
That's why Rem liked him.
"Anyone still fighting will die by my axe! Everyone, stop!"
Enkrid had shown something fierce, but Rem was thrashing around like a madman too.
He didn't care if they were allies or enemies; he would crush anyone.
Rem's madness was clear. His eyes gleamed, and his bloodstained axe caught everyone's attention.
It was only natural that everyone stopped.
"I'll take anyone else who wants to fight."
Ragnā also stepped forward.
Jaxen, ever the strategist, cast a sharp glance behind him.
He was looking only at the commanders.
His eyes were full of intent, as if to say, "If you want more death, I'll choose and kill."
"Everyone, stop!"
One of the commanders shouted.
The commanders were in awe of Enkrid.
"Fall back! Fall back!"
"Enough pointless killings."
They all shouted, and Marcus sounded the signal from behind.
It wasn't a retreat; it was a temporary halt to the fighting.
Boom! Boom!
Even under Count's command, not all were fools. They were aware of the Chimera Unit's presence and respected the Count's larger intentions.
'Is this right?'
It no longer felt like a fight to win, but one to die in. Those who felt this way moved to stop the fighting.
"Stop, everyone, and fall back!"
Even the minstrel would have been shocked by what unfolded before him.
The fighting stopped.
Enkrid turned and walked toward the horizon, the battlefield now at a standstill.
The sky was dim. Clouds covered the sun, making the midday light seem less bright.
Even so, Enkrid's figure was seared into everyone's memory.
Behind him followed Rem, Ragnā, and Jaxen.
Lastly, the beast-woman Dunbakel, who had appeared from nowhere, joined them.
As they moved forward, Count Molsan, veins bulging in his forehead, came to greet them.
Five of his guards, armed with swords, spears, and axes, were visible.
Looking at them, Enkrid couldn't tell whether Rievart was an idiot or if the Count was the real problem. There was a distinct odor of danger from the five.
"That leopard-woman, she's quite the expert."
The Count said, smiling, though his face was split between anger and a mock smile, as though something wasn't going the way he wanted.
"My skills are even more daring. Want me to show you?"
Enkrid shot back, and the Count's smile faded, replaced by a strange, unsettling grin, showing darkened teeth.
"Do you think Rievart is all there is?"
The Count gestured, his movements unnerving.
It was clear that Esther had done something to him.
At the Count's gesture, the five armed guards stepped forward.
Crunch.
Each one grew, their muscles twisting, their bodies changing as fur sprouted.
They couldn't even be called werewolves. It seemed like parts of monsters had been grafted onto their human bodies, with fur and muscle blending together.
It looked that way too.
"Disgusting."
Rem said, his axe resting on his shoulder.
Had Rievart been the finished product?
These five were more like flawed versions, their faces swelling, bubbles of air forming beneath their skin.
Still, five were more than enough.
Enkrid considered the odds. He could likely take on one, but after that, he wasn't sure if he could keep going.
He had already pushed his body to the limit fighting Rievart.
But there was no thought of retreat.
"I'll end this war."
It was a declaration, a statement of will.
That was the force he projected.
Enkrid took a step forward.
The five guards fixed their crimson eyes on him, preparing to strike.
"Are you going to do this alone?"
Rem called from the left.
"They're mine," said Ragnā from the right.
"Just watch," Jaxen added, stepping a few paces away.
Dunbakel clenched her teeth and stood beside Rem.
It was a tense balance.
The Count looked at them and said, "Time is on my side."
Was it a trick to make them anxious?
The situation had turned into a tense standoff, with the air thick with tension.
If a dry leaf fell, it might ignite into a fire.
Crunch, crunch.
In that tense moment, bold and steady footsteps approached from behind Enkrid.
Without turning his head, he felt no need to.
"Brothers and sisters, please step back for a moment."
It was reinforcements.
A man, as large as a bear, stood behind Enkrid.
"Who's been bothering my fiancée?"
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