Chapter 70 - The Isolation Technique
The foundation of the "Isolation Technique" was simplicity.
It was about enhancing physical capabilities by repeatedly performing movements while carrying heavy loads.
This wasn't just about building raw strength; it was a practice to develop holistic physical control and endurance.
"Shall we begin?"
A month had passed, and the chill lingered in the far corner of the training ground.
Enkrid proposed a sparring session, and Audin nodded with a smile.
"Do you prefer your arms or legs, brother?"
It was a signal—he was planning to target one or the other.
"Your tongue is sharp, Audin."
Both were barehanded.
They hadn't spent the entire month solely on the Isolation Technique, though.
The two squared off, their gazes locking.
To meet Audin's eyes, Enkrid had to tilt his head upward, the difference in their physiques glaringly apparent.
Yet, it was Audin who moved first.
With a soft thud, he pushed off the ground, lowering his stance as he charged forward, moving so fast that he left an afterimage.
It was uncharacteristic of someone nicknamed "The Praying Bear."
In the past, Enkrid's best response would have been to raise his knee defensively.
But now, things were different.
Enkrid also lowered his stance, clenched his fist, and raised his thumb, pointing it forward as if ready to pierce.
If Audin charged head-on, he'd risk his eyes being gouged.
Audin abruptly halted his charge and shifted to the side, his massive frame bouncing like a leopard's agile leap.
Despite his size, his speed and reflexes were akin to Esther's—swift and precise.
Not allowing his back to be taken, Enkrid repeatedly turned to face him.
At some point, Audin's fist shot forward, reaching Enkrid's range without warning.
When the distance had been closed, even Enkrid wasn't sure.
In that concentrated moment, Enkrid acted decisively, tilting his forehead to intercept the punch before it struck fully—a wrestling technique to mitigate damage.
However, Audin opened his palm mid-strike, grabbing Enkrid's hair instead.
Yanking it downward, he drove his left elbow into Enkrid's back, using his weight to press him down.
For a moment, Enkrid resisted Audin's strength and weight.
Not content with merely enduring, he attempted to flip Audin over his back.
But Audin wasn't one to passively mount his opponent.
Adding pressure, he pulled Enkrid's hair forward.
The perfectly timed tug disrupted Enkrid's balance, making him lose control of his body.
With no options left, he fell.
Thud.
Enkrid shielded his face with his hands as Audin pinned him down.
"You sacrificed your body instead of your arms or legs, Brother squad leader," Audin laughed heartily.
"If this were a battlefield, I'd have a helmet," Enkrid replied, referencing his hair being grabbed.
Still pinned, he spoke, and Audin answered with a grin.
"Then I'd have used another method."
It was true, and Enkrid wasn't complaining.
He'd only asked out of curiosity about the alternative.
"If there was a helmet, I'd grab the nape or press the back of the head to pin you instantly."
"I see."
Even under the crushing weight of the "Praying Bear," Enkrid prioritized absorbing the lesson.
Audin eventually stood up, brushing himself off.
For Enkrid, the past month had been a routine—not monotonous, but methodical.
Mornings were dedicated to the Isolation Technique, followed by wrestling after lunch.
Until evening, he practiced swordsmanship.
After dinner, he revisited everything he'd learned.
The Heart of the Beast, the Sense of the Blade, and Singular Focus—all had room for improvement.
If there was potential for growth, why stop?
Still, progress was slow, even with these techniques supporting him.
Thus, Enkrid crawled forward—like a slow-moving snail or a tortoise on land.
"You're improving at a snail's pace," Audin remarked, adjusting his clothes, white puffs of breath rising into the cold air.
Both were drenched in sweat from their efforts in the Isolation Technique and wrestling.
Enkrid replayed Audin's teachings in his mind, finding them invaluable.
One particular lesson stood out: "Reading through the body."
The body carried all the information one needed.
For example, a right-handed swordsman typically had a more developed right arm.
By analyzing physique and muscle development, one could gauge their opponent's experience and training.
This was a revelation Enkrid had gained through his training in the Isolation Technique.
What followed was equally valuable.
After building his foundation, he learned wrestling from Audin.
Audin categorized wrestling into strikes, joint locks, and throws.
"If your opponent is smaller, simply throwing and slamming them makes the fight easier."
"What if I'm the smaller one?"
Enkrid not only listened attentively but also asked many questions, never glossing over anything.
Audin admired this trait in his squad leader.
"In that case, you'd fight as a smaller person should. Master joint locks, strikes, and grapples to use their strength against them. Counters are a prime example of this."
It reminded Enkrid of the technique used by the Fairy Company Commander—the effortless gesture that had toppled him.
Audin demonstrated such techniques with precision.
He was kind, despite being devilishly strict during the Isolation Technique.
While teaching wrestling, he was calm and patient.
"Apply more pressure here, and their arm breaks. Without divine healing, the damage would be permanent."
A single mistake could result in Enkrid's dismemberment, so wrestling became a careful endeavor.
"Strength and speed are essential, but so is understanding vital points, takedown techniques, and breaking bones or joints. None of these can be half-learned.
So instead of learning new things, you must repeat what you've already learned.
Do you still crave something new?"
Audin occasionally scolded him, and rightfully so.
Enkrid preferred learning a wide array of techniques over mastering a single one.
'This is the right way.'
Enkrid believed in today's repetition.
It was impossible to master any technique immediately.
While Audin might see him as overly ambitious with a body unable to keep up, to Enkrid, this was the correct path.
Audin's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Why do you think your hair was grabbed earlier?"
"The distance."
Enkrid answered plainly—he hadn't been caught off guard.
"Exactly. The distance. Despite countless reminders, you remain slow and dull, Commander Brother."
Enkrid was unfazed.
Words like that didn't hurt him—he didn't have the time for it.
He was too busy replaying what he'd learned today.
Joint locks alone came in dozens of varieties, and memorizing and embedding even a fraction of them into his body was overwhelming.
Enkrid had to master both throws and strikes, engraving the basic principles into his body.
"I've told you many times: stamina is essential, reading distance is no different from swordsmanship, and without agility, everything else is meaningless," Audin said.
Audin was an excellent teacher—not because his methods were remarkable, but because of his persistence.
'He doesn't know how to give up.'
Even when progress was slow and almost invisible, Audin taught steadfastly.
For someone like Enkrid, such a teacher was a perfect match.
Persistent instruction left even a small imprint on the body and mind, and Enkrid, in turn, learned with equal determination, setting mastery and refinement aside for the future.
"Stamina, distance, mobility," Enkrid repeated Audin's words to himself.
Be it swords, spears, blunt weapons, or wrestling, strength and speed were indispensable.
While Enkrid had grown familiar with measuring distances, Audin was still more adept, often catching him off guard.
***
"Did you end up rolling in the dirt again today?"
After finishing his wrestling session, Enkrid returned to find Rem waiting for him.
"Taking a break today?"
It was the same question as always.
"No."
This time, it was the sword.
Although he still practiced with a wooden one occasionally, he now preferred a real blade.
The longsword he was accustomed to wielding aimed at Rem's entire body.
Enkrid didn't always spar with Rem.
On some days, it was Ragna.
"Watching you makes me want to give it a try, squad leader," Ragna would say.
On other days, it was Jaxen.
"I've got time. Grab your sword and come out."
None of them ever declined Enkrid's requests.
Still, they shared similar thoughts.
Take Rem, for instance:
'What a waste of talent. Does he need more combat experience?'
On the battlefield, his skills had improved rapidly, but back in the city, he seemed stagnant.
Though he had undeniably improved compared to before, there was no dramatic growth.
That much was clear to Rem.
What had improved were his Heart of the Beast, his focused mind, his sense of the blade, and his Isolation Technique.
The Isolation Technique was altering his muscle quality, but even after a month, there were no drastic changes—only small, incremental progress.
He advanced like a slow snail crawling forward, step by painstaking step.
Ragna had similar thoughts.
'His fundamentals are solid, but why is his advanced technique progressing so slowly?'
Wasn't he supposed to have a breakthrough in his thirties?
Why was he regressing to being a fool?
It was a mystery.
And yet, Ragna remained motivated.
Enkrid had a way of inspiring those around him.
Every day, regardless of duties or other circumstances, he repeated the same grueling training.
If he had morning duties, he would lift rocks and hold peculiar postures late into the night.
The same went for wrestling and swordsmanship.
When duty called, he would serve, then return to resume his training.
He carved time out of his sleep and meal breaks.
During group drills with the regular army, while Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin, and Krais sometimes slacked off or went through the motions, Enkrid gave it his all.
Afterward, he returned to the training grounds to continue his personal regimen.
His consistency was almost frightening.
That's why Ragna found himself motivated by the captain.
Jaxen felt the same.
'The sense.'
Enkrid's hearing was sharp enough to feel like he had eyes in the back of his head, yet his overall sensory acuity hadn't advanced beyond that.
'Why?'
Was it Jaxen's fault as the teacher?
Or Enkrid's fault as the learner?
'It's the learner's fault.'
Having taught numerous others, Jaxen knew this well, and it left him amazed.
Enkrid's progress was painfully slow, yet he never gave up.
'It's unique.'
Jaxen nearly smiled in satisfaction but reverted to his usual expressionless face.
'Why should I care so much about the captain?'
Still, he always gave his best effort.
Teaching in turns had naturally established a rotation, and Jaxen was the most diligent among them.
Esther watched the man she had chosen.
The black panther's blue eyes followed his every move.
How could someone be like that?
There was a time when Esther, too, had been consumed by the world of spells.
Back then, she needed nothing else—not food, not sleep, not even desire.
'And that's how I ended up like this.'
Lost in her past for a moment, she turned her gaze back to Enkrid.
'He's different from me.'
His daily routine was simple and repetitive.
Even eating, sleeping, and resting seemed to be part of his regimen.
He was someone who "rested earnestly."
Watching him, she found herself thinking:
'If there's a way to help, I want to.'
He was that kind of person.
Unaware of these sentiments, Enkrid was too occupied to notice anything around him.
He was busy engraving various techniques into his body.
A training fanatic by nature, his intensity had only grown recently, thanks to the Isolation Technique.
'The quality of my muscles is changing.'
He almost wanted to strip down and admire himself in the mirror.
Who would notice the change most keenly if not Enkrid himself?
When movements that used to be difficult became smooth, the joy was nearly overwhelming.
From thrusting techniques to the basics of heavy swordsmanship, everything felt different with his changed body—smoother and more fluid.
Even the techniques of soft swordsmanship had become somewhat second nature to him.
Clang!
The swords met, and Enkrid redirected Rem's axe to the side.
"That's a bit better."
Rem acknowledged his deflection. It wasn't perfect, but it was an improvement.
'It's better than before.'
Enkrid, too, could sense the refinement in his techniques.
All of it stemmed from the body-crafting method—the Isolation Technique.
"Do you regret not learning it sooner?" Audin had once asked him, wondering if he thought it was too late to reshape his body.
"No."
Enkrid had shaken his head.
He held no regrets for the past.
If he did, he'd already be trapped in "yesterday."
What he had learned back then was vital for that time.
Thus, being fully present in "today" was the right choice.
Once, during that month, he dreamed of the Ferryman.
"You live as if trapped in 'today,'" the Ferryman had said, exuding boredom as he leaned on his chin before vanishing.
The same one who had mocked him so fiercely before was now nowhere to be seen.
The Ferryman's words rang true.
Enkrid's days were a repetitive cycle.
Only the duty schedules and weather changed.
"If you would have learned it earlier, your body wouldn't have been ready for it," Audin had said, but Enkrid paid it little mind.
What mattered was today, and now.
Eventually, the harsh winter, the fourth and most grueling season, reached its midpoint.
***
"Let's talk for a moment."
One day, amidst these routines, the Fairy Company Commander came looking for Enkrid.
Standing outside the barracks, the Commander, with his green eyes and back to the cold, said bluntly:
"It's a mission."
The Border Guard reserves were often mobilized as needed.
Their duty wasn't limited to fighting on the battlefield.
"Understood."
"You'll escort the heir of a merchant guild. Pick one from your squad to accompany you."
The Commander delivered the orders.
It was a directive from above, and Enkrid had to comply.
An assignment and a mission.
He didn't particularly enjoy such tasks.
But now, he had begun to take an interest in earning merits.
Mastery and accomplishments—these were the steps to knighthood.