Chapter 59 - Dagger Throwing Technique
Enkrid took a quarrel to his side during his eighth attempt at today's events.
The bolt pierced through his ribs and tore into his organs.
"This is unexpected."
It happened after he had dodged all the whistling daggers and kicked Rotten, who had attacked him from behind.
In that brief moment of vulnerability, the bolt came flying.
Dodging it was impossible.
"They were thorough in their preparation."
Pulling the bolt out would likely worsen the injury.
When he looked up, he saw the grotesque face of a mixed-blood fairy looming before him.
Were all mixed-bloods this hideous?
He had no idea.
This was the first time he'd encountered such a being in his life.
He knew most of them weren't treated well.
"You're unusually perceptive, aren't you?"
The fairy spoke from above, clearly enjoying the moment.
"I get that a lot. Hah."
Enkrid responded while steadying his breath.
He calculated the fairy's position and distance in his mind, preparing for one last desperate move.
Ping!
In a flash, Enkrid drew a broad-bladed dagger and thrust it upward.
The blade, known as a guard sword, grazed the fairy's cheek with a sharp zing.
The fairy tilted its head sideways, dodging, and then kicked Enkrid in the abdomen.
Thud!
"Ugh..."
Instead of a scream, a groan escaped him.
The arrowhead lodged in his guts twisted painfully.
The agony was unbearable, worse than anything he'd experienced while moving.
His vision blurred white from the pain.
"Going somewhere?"
The fairy was efficient and sharp, giving Enkrid little time to suffer.
When the blade slit his throat, Enkrid closed his eyes.
On the next repetition of the day, Rotten, Jack, and Bo attacked alongside the fairy.
Though Enkrid was overwhelmed, he managed to kill Jack and Bo and sever the fairy's arm.
The final blow, however, was once again to his heart—this time from a concealed stiletto at the fairy's waist.
After nine grueling repetitions of this day, the tenth dawn finally broke.
After completing his exercises with Audin, Enkrid met Jaxen, continuing his relentless preparation.
Each day was crucial.
Nothing could be wasted, so Enkrid gave his all once again.
"Mind checking my stance?"
Indifferent to any notion of equivalent exchange, Enkrid demonstrated his dagger-throwing technique to provoke insight from Jaxen.
The skill he now wielded was far beyond what he had when he first learned it.
It was a technique he'd refined by clinging to the edges of his talent.
His movements now had precision and power unmatched by his earlier attempts.
Enkrid activated a single point of focus, relaxing his body before unleashing his full strength in a single explosive motion.
His hand sliced through the air, and the dagger shot forward with a whizz.
It wasn't fast enough to be called a flash of light, but it was several times quicker than before.
"Your arm and hand act as the launcher, utilizing your body's elasticity. I understand that well. Do you notice anything lacking in my stance?"
Enkrid was stunned when he saw Jaxen gape, his jaw dropping wide open for the first time.
This was the usually stoic, composed squadmate, one who rarely showed any emotion.
Yet here he was, visibly shaken.
The moment passed quickly, and Jaxen's face returned to its calm, neutral state.
"Jaxen?"
"Where did you learn that?"
"On the battlefield. I saw someone with a phenomenal dagger-throwing technique."
"And you learned just by watching?"
"More or less."
Jaxen echoed Enkrid's words like a parrot.
It was understandable—this wasn't a skill that could be mastered through simple practice.
This was beyond basic training.
Without innate talent, learning such a technique was nonsensical.
Jaxen understood this and was shocked.
The squad leader's recent improvement in skill had been noticeable, but this was on another level entirely.
Jaxen, after observing Enkrid for a moment, offered his advice.
"That's good enough. There's no need to delve deeper into this technique. However, since your dagger has some weight, it's better to focus on imparting a sense of heaviness rather than lightness."
Jaxen chose his words carefully and shared them without reservation.
Enkrid nodded.
"It's called the 'Explosive Blade Technique.'"
Jaxen introduced the name abruptly.
Though not inclined toward sharing knowledge freely, Jaxen wasn't stingy about teaching useful skills.
Enkrid adjusted his posture.
He had long ingrained in himself the discipline to listen, even learning from Krang how to express attentiveness fully.
Listening itself was an art he had mastered.
Seeing this, Jaxen felt an unusual sense of joy.
Who else would treat dagger-throwing with such seriousness?
Had Enkrid not shown such dedication, Jaxen might have disregarded him as squad leader altogether.
"Years ago, a legendary assassin named Geogr developed the basic framework for this technique. There's speculation that he was inspired by Leonesis Oniac's five sword styles, but the details are unclear."
The technique had history.
Enkrid's focus deepened as he absorbed every word.
Jaxen explained further, offering insights into its origins and potential.
The "Explosive Blade Technique" wasn't limited to throwing daggers; it encompassed all types of projectile weaponry.
Unprompted, Jaxen even mentioned the infamous "Whistle Daggers."
"There's a throwing dagger called the Whistle Dagger. If you ever encounter one, avoid it at all costs. They're incredibly difficult to counter. The reason Geogr's Explosive Blade Technique is named like that is directly tied to the Whistle Daggers."
He elaborated further.
The Whistle Daggers were constructed with layered blades.
Geogr's ultimate goal had been to craft a dagger so thin it required only a single layer.
Such a blade wouldn't whistle in flight—it would be completely silent.
How many layers was that?
Enkrid instinctively recalled the Whistle Daggers thrown by the mixed-blood fairy.
When one embedded itself in his arm, he'd seen it clearly—three layers.
"Hey, isn't today your shift?"
Bo appeared outside the barracks, calling for Enkrid.
Enkrid had been so engrossed that he didn't notice his shift was about to start.
"Ah, I forgot. Let's go. This is the shift we're on today, right?"
"Yes, it's market patrol," replied Bo.
"I know. You're part of the scouting unit," Enkrid replied casually before turning to Jaxen.
"I've learned a lot," he said.
"Have you?"
Jaxen didn't think of himself as overly talkative, but he had to admit that he always seemed to talk more than usual in front of the squad leader.
Even if he only said what was necessary, it was still a lot.
'Did I go too far with the Whistling Blade?'
Why did I bring that up?
Looking back, it made sense.
It was relevant.
It was because of the stance Enkrid had demonstrated.
'The throwing technique looks the same.'
Although Geogr's blade technique wasn't strictly a throwing art, there were basic forms to it.
But the stance Enkrid had shown earlier was a textbook example of the Whistling Blade, as if someone had guided him.
Jaxen wouldn't have known it, but the person who had taught Enkrid that stance was none other than himself.
"Let's head this way."
Enkrid unilaterally changed their patrol route.
"Wait, the orders were to patrol the market. We'll get reprimanded for this!" protested Jack.
"I'll take responsibility," Enkrid said firmly.
He was the squad leader, a recently promoted senior soldier, and a talent coveted by both the First Company and the Border Defense Corps.
At thirty, he was a late bloomer who had just started garnering attention.
The two soldiers from the scouting unit had no choice but to follow his lead.
"I said I'll take responsibility. We can take it easy for once. Let's go."
Enkrid strode ahead, expecting them to follow.
"Leaving the patrol route is a disciplinary offense," Bo murmured, glancing at Jack.
Jack gestured rapidly.
What do we do?
I don't know.
Bo shook his head.
Even without looking, Enkrid could sense their whispered conversation.
But no amount of discussion would change things.
Some situations couldn't be helped. If the superior officer said to jump, you jumped.
And right now, he was the superior.
The assassin had prepared the place, time, and people.
But did he need to follow their script?
'I'll change the location.'
There was no reason to step into the assassin's carefully prepared stage.
This was the answer Enkrid reached after some deliberation.
He moved as he pleased, wandering near the city gates rather than the bustling urban areas.
Jack and Bo were clearly uneasy.
They tried persuading him to head toward the market, but Enkrid remained resolute.
After about thirty minutes of wandering, Enkrid suddenly stopped.
"Huh? Why are we stopping?"
The pair, who had walked two steps past him, turned back, puzzled.
By now, they had given up on entering the market and had secretly left coded signals in various places along the way.
It was time.
Enkrid quietly observed them before asking, "Why did you do it?"
Jack and Bo exchanged bewildered glances.
What's he talking about?
Beats me.
"Huh?" Bo asked, puzzled.
"I said, why did you do it?"
"What are you even saying? Speak clearly!" Jack snapped irritably.
"I've thought about it several times but can't figure it out. What's the point of espionage at your level? Is it for Krona? Money?"
At his sudden question, Jack and Bo instinctively recoiled.
Then, after an awkward exchange of glances, Bo scratched his head and spoke.
"What are you talking about?"
"Yeah, are you seriously accusing us of being spies?" Jack growled.
"When you retreat and place your hand on your sword hilt, doesn't that strike you as a feeble excuse?"
At Enkrid's words, the two exchanged another glance.
And then—
Shing!
Both drew their weapons.
Bo wielded a thin stiletto-like dagger, while Jack held a thicker short sword.
Enkrid didn't move.
"Guess he's sharper than we thought," Jack muttered.
"Looks like you'll have to die here," Bo added.
The plan had gone awry, but their objective was clear.
After a brief nod, the two lunged forward.
Enkrid unsheathed his longsword with a smooth motion.
Shing!
The blade gleamed in the sunlight as he took a wide step forward, drawing a semicircle with his sword.
The sweeping strike forced Jack and Bo to back off instinctively.
But Enkrid didn't stop there.
As the momentum of his swing created an opening, Bo seized the chance and charged in.
He was a soldier known for his agility, and he propelled himself forward, closing the gap in an instant.
Enkrid seemed vulnerable, shifting his weight to his right as he gripped the longsword with both hands.
Just as Bo's short sword reached striking distance—
Thunk!
A blade suddenly emerged from Enkrid's left armpit, piercing Bo's throat.
It was a mercenary-style technique called Shadow Thrust, involving a feint to draw the opponent close before striking with a concealed blade.
Bo, overly reliant on his reflexes, had closed the distance too eagerly, playing right into Enkrid's hands.
With a gurgling sound, Bo collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.
"Dammit, that's brutal," Jack muttered, pale-faced.
He neither had the will to fight nor the courage to flee.
"So, why did you do it?"
"Why do you care, you bastard?" Jack spat, defiant to the end.
Enkrid didn't see a need for mercy.
Their fight ended quickly.
A deceptive feint with the longsword turned into a horizontal slash, carving a deep wound into Jack's side.
"Ah… damn it," Jack cursed before collapsing.
Enkrid stood still, catching his breath with his sword planted in the ground.
Not long after, reinforcements arrived.
A bolt flew toward him with a sharp whizz.
Enkrid tilted his head to dodge, spotting a hesitant Rotten, and a cloaked assassin.
Leaving his sword embedded in the ground, he asked, "Are you all coming at once?"
A one-on-one fight seemed out of the question.
Another bolt was aimed his way.
Enkrid exhaled sharply, relaxing his entire body.
His arms dangled like pendulums before his right hand snapped upward, flinging a dagger.
Whizz!
The thrown blade struck Rotten square in the forehead.
The half fairy assassin beside him flinched momentarily.
"Interesting," Enkrid muttered, echoing the assassin's thoughts.