Chapter 78 - Painted with Passion
Torres still possessed outstanding skill.
When sparring with him, Enkrid lost seven out of ten bouts.
"Your skills have improved," Torres said, standing still and catching his breath.
A sudden thought struck Enkrid—what would happen in a real fight with sharp blades?
He had no idea.
Enkrid was not the type to face battles with absolute certainty.
No matter how skilled one was with a sword, a single stab to the heart from a seven-year-old wielding a dagger could end it all.
Skill aside, the outcome of a life-or-death battle was impossible to predict.
"Do you think so?" Enkrid replied while lying flat on the ground.
Then, he sprang to his feet.
"Next is me."
"Bring it on."
Despite the season's cold breath visible in the air, sweat flew and heat rose in the clearing behind the inn.
How had it come to this?
Somehow, everyone was taking turns fighting Enkrid.
It was a series of sparring matches, a valuable experience for him.
The frontier defenders, including Torres, excelled in unconventional combat techniques.
That didn't mean their fundamentals were lacking.
With a snap, a defender broke a branch and held a piece in each hand.
"My specialty is daggers. Be careful not to get hurt."
He held two short sticks, each about half the length of a forearm.
"Let's both be careful."
"That's what I'm saying. Let's be careful together."
The defender grinned.
His smile radiated pure competitiveness, free of malice.
Snap!
Branches clashed, and Enkrid engaged in another fight.
After exchanging a few moves, Enkrid expected his opponent to close the distance.
Instead, the defender crossed his two short sticks to catch Enkrid's sword, twisting it aside.
Then, unbalancing Enkrid, he threw one of the sticks, hitting him roughly in the torso.
"In a real fight, that would've been your eye," he remarked.
This man was remarkable—almost on par with Torres.
It became clear why the frontier defenders were given special treatment.
Enkrid silently nodded, acknowledging yet another defeat.
It was time for a brief rest.
Everyone naturally paused for a break.
Leaning casually against the door connecting the clearing to the inn was Jaxen.
As Enkrid stepped inside, Jaxen spoke.
"If your opponent uses a dagger, you shouldn't be so focused on closing the distance. Just because your fundamentals are solid doesn't mean you should rely on them alone. When an opponent crawls toward you on the ground, is stabbing them with your sword the only option? Why not kick them instead?"
Whether Enkrid won or lost, Jaxen always had something to say.
It was a teaching moment, though some might dismiss it as nagging.
For Enkrid, it wasn't.
He listened carefully.
"I didn't expect him to use those tactics with daggers," Enkrid admitted.
"His primary weapon is likely a sword breaker," Jaxen explained.
A sword breaker was a blade with a serrated back designed to snap an opponent's weapon.
This man specialized in disarming opponents.
"It was good that you didn't give up your distance, but you should've prepared for what came next."
Jaxen reviewed the sparring session in detail.
Enkrid always gave his best effort.
Had he allowed the defender to close the distance, he would've been overwhelmed.
By maintaining the gap, he'd at least seen the sword-breaker technique in action.
"You did well there," Jaxen noted.
"Think about how to counter it next time."
Training in swordsmanship basics, physical conditioning, and mastering techniques—all were important.
But addressing situations that arose during sparring was a task only Enkrid could tackle himself.
That was Jaxen's advice, and Enkrid agreed.
It took hundreds of repetitions for a movement to become second nature.
To make anything his own, Enkrid had to ponder and review it.
Reflection and study—these were Enkrid's true weapons.
And so, he did.
"After the break, it's my turn."
Another defender spoke, one skilled with both sword and kicks.
He didn't merely step forward; he seamlessly incorporated kicks into his moves.
Though challenging to face, each match was a learning experience.
Six defenders, including Torres, sparred with him in rotation.
While their techniques shared similarities, they also showcased unique skills.
Each had individuality, yet all excelled in the basics.
There was much to learn.
In the past, such sparring sessions might not have been as beneficial.
It was inevitable—someone who hadn't climbed a mountain couldn't fully appreciate the view from the summit.
But now was different.
"Focus on a single point more."
The technique Enkrid learned from Ragna shone through.
It was only natural that the Heart of the Beast formed the foundation of his daring.
"Keep your senses sharp at all times," Jaxen advised, emphasizing the need for constant vigilance.
Enkrid nodded.
As he wiped sweat from his brow, Leona approached.
"You must really enjoy this," she remarked.
"Enjoy what?"
"Using a sword."
"Does it seem that way to you?"
"Yes."
Leona often struck up conversations, though they were usually trivial.
To Enkrid, her manner seemed like a spider observing prey, never letting it out of sight.
'Though comparing her to a spider doesn't quite fit her looks.'
Anyone could see she was a stunning beauty.
"Is it because of the fairy company commander? You don't seem very sensitive to a woman's appearance."
"It's not entirely that."
"So, am I just not your type?"
What did she mean by that?
Her playful expression hinted at mischief.
"A man who can ignore the beauty of someone like Lady Leona is rare, don't you think?"
Enkrid's roundabout reply conveyed his lack of interest.
After their brief exchange, Leona smiled demurely and sat next to the commander.
"Be careful. He's got a way with women," the commander quipped.
To this, Leona chuckled.
Did she actually understand the fairy's jokes?
The teasing that left Enkrid flustered only seemed to amuse Leona further.
"You're the wittiest fairy I've ever met," she said with a laugh.
"That's something I hear a lot."
Where on earth?
While preparing for the sparring, I almost twisted my ankle.
As I sharpened my senses, their conversation reached me naturally, loud enough to be heard even without paying attention.
"We even have a child."
"Pardon?"
"There are people in the unit who believe that."
Wouldn't that deepen the misunderstanding if they said it like that?
I was worried, but…
Leona smiled and let it slide, whether she believed it or not.
"Won't you do it? Are you tired now?"
Enkrid pushed aside his worries as he glanced at those waiting for him.
Rumors would spread regardless.
Thanks to Leona's sudden confession earlier, even worse rumors would probably spread.
"The demonic squad leader."
Those stationed outside often called him that.
"The demonic squad leader who destroyed the curse."
"The demonic squad leader who can't just leave women alone."
He was starting to get tired of hearing it.
"Demonic squad leader, huh?"
Even Jaxen had uttered the words.
"Hm?"
"Isn't it the case that the entire garrison is watching only the squad leader?"
Indeed, that's just how it happened.
He had spent the whole day fiercely sparring.
The awkward air that had settled around them at first was now gone.
They had all bonded through swords and sweat.
As a result, Enkrid had bruises all over his body.
"Does it hurt?"
When the one who struck him asked, Enkrid shook his head.
"No."
The strike from earlier had been spectacular.
He was replaying it over and over in his mind.
He blocked the downward slash by feigning to block from below, using his forearm to deflect it.
The split-second decision, the timing, the boldness—everything came together.
What he had absorbed in that moment was an experience he had never had before.
'Ah.'
Enkrid was once again overcome with a sense of exhilaration.
He was intoxicated by what was happening now.
Sometimes, the platoon leader would step forward for something like wrestling.
Now and then, Leona would also speak to him.
"How enviable. I should have learned that too, I guess."
She said this after watching the platoon leader grab his own arm in mid-air and hang from it, putting pressure on the joint.
In fact, Enkrid was busy trying to endure the technique by falling.
"Use wrestling. Soldier."
The platoon leader chimed in with his own advice.
Enkrid wasn't sure if it was because he had been listening to Jaxen or if it was just out of goodwill.
Even now, he didn't know why, but it didn't matter.
Enkrid kept a listening posture, respecting the advice given to him.
"Your balance is a bit off. Who's watching your body conditioning?"
It wasn't just the platoon leader.
The Frontier Defenders said the same thing.
Auldin had said the same thing too, and now the border guards were echoing it.
The imbalance in the left and right.
Since he was right-handed, it was only natural, but...
"The first step to reaching the limits of a human is conditioning the full body muscles. You have strength, though."
Torres also gave some advice.
"You only thought of closing the distance with the dagger, didn't you? Try pulling them in closer instead. What do you think they'd do then? Imprint an evil spirit on their head."
It was a way to confuse the opponent's mind.
"You have some bad habits. Trying to deceive the opponent is fine, but don't forget the basics. Where are you placing your center of gravity?"
They pointed out mistakes made during sparring.
Enkrid wasn't sure how this all happened, but…
He was completely immersed in everything, listening attentively.
It was different from sparring with his squad.
Was this fun?
"Will you spar with me?"
Polid's guard stepped forward.
He unsheathed his rapier and placed it beside him, asking.
Enkrid nodded instinctively.
It was something he had been longing for.
"You're an interesting guy. Sparring like this during a mission."
"I value time very highly."
During the escort mission, they had seen blood due to the succession issue of a large merchant family.
Despite this, Enkrid grabbed his sword and swung it.
He had to.
Because the time of others was different from Enkrid's time.
Those with talent and those without could never be equal.
Thus, for those who needed to make up for what they lacked, there was never enough time.
The rapier's owner found it fascinating.
'He doesn't grow his skills instantly.'
But he was a soldier with the charm to draw in those around him.
Especially the change in the relationship between the border guards and Enkrid was intriguing.
The wariness that had been there between strangers had melted away, and it dissolved into camaraderie.
They had gained favor in an instant.
It was a miraculous sight, even though it had unfolded right in front of him.
'A rare talent.'
But it wasn't his talent for swordsmanship that stood out.
The owner of the rapier, a skilled fighter, could see that his current skill was at its limit.
Enkrid's talent lay elsewhere.
Having met many talents in his life, he could think of it clearly.
If he had heard that Enkrid's dream was to be a knight, he would have immediately shaken his head.
But still,
Despite his talent,
'I want to teach him.'
It was an endless passion.
Every word, every action, was done with purpose.
His talent might not be great, but he exuded a heavy, intense energy.
He had a knack for inspiring those around him with his passion alone.
Even the instructor who had taught Enkrid had felt something similar.
Everyone knew it wouldn't work out, but still, they tried to impart everything they had to Enkrid.
They taught and taught, never giving up.
His passion and guts made "giving up" seem like a foreign word.
"Will you spar with me?"
That was what pushed him to speak up, to take the first step.
"Eh?"
His teammate, who had come along, looked at him in surprise.
He was surprised too.
He was an enemy, after all.
It seemed strange to step forward here.
And if the opponent rejected him, would it be even more embarrassing?
But the truth was, he hadn't thought that way at all before he spoke.
Enkrid nodded.
"Now?"
His arms were bruised, and his whole body was drenched in sweat.
The cold wind blowing across the open area couldn't compare to the heat radiating from his body.
Hot steam rose from his shoulders.
He must have been tired.
Winning or losing didn't matter.
The point was that he was enjoying the sparring for what it was.
"Good."
The swordsman spoke, almost unconsciously.
Jaxen was suspicious of his opponent's intentions.
The platoon leader nodded with interest.
All the border guards were ready to strike if anything went wrong.
They weren't going to sit by and watch anything happen to Enkrid.
And Enkrid…
'Quick sword.'
He was busy picturing his opponent's sword in his mind.
How should he respond?
What kind of fight would give him the best chance of winning?
Could he win?
"Don't hesitate!"
Rem had once said that those who fight with victory and defeat on their minds rarely survive.
Instead of doubting the outcome,
"Have confidence. That's the first step."
Sharpen the confidence like a blade.
The heart of the beast embraces boldness.
Enkrid raised the tip of his sword towards the sky.
His hands gripped the sword as if to concentrate.
In that moment, everything around him shifted.
His focus blazed, turning the surroundings into the battlefield.
He could see the armor around his opponent's body.
He could see the thin sword in his hands.
If he didn't dodge, he would die.
At that thought, Enkrid became fully absorbed.