Chapter 35

The members of the Troublemaker Squad each had strong personalities, but they shared one common trait.

They were not particularly interested in their surroundings.

Among them, Ragna was especially indifferent to the attention around him and didn’t really care much.

‘Just eat enough, fight enough, and live enough.’

He lived a very lax life and slept a lot.

Knowing this about Ragna, Encrid was secretly surprised when Ragna volunteered to replace him in the scout unit.

That Ragna was stepping up to do the scouting?

Has our lazy squad member changed?

No, that wasn’t the case.

Ragna was whimsical and capricious.

He might have been caught up in the mood at that moment, but he would have probably backed out in a day, or even half a day.

That’s why he wasn’t sent in the first place.

It wasn’t for no reason that Encrid ended up handling most of the troublesome tasks in the Troublemaker Squad.

In some ways, Ragna could be said to have a personality completely opposite to Encrid’s.

He was generally unmotivated, while Encrid was the type to split his time to swing his sword.

Of course, Ragna sometimes wielded a sword too.

As seen upon his return, he mingled with Rem and sometimes made a mark on the battlefield.

Though each time, Ragna would mutter, ‘It wasn’t intentional.’

Knowing this about Ragna, Encrid found it curious that Ragna was showing interest in him.

‘What’s the reason?’

It was truly a rare occurrence.

Sometimes he would ask questions or make requests.

But he wasn’t the type to observe closely for days and then ask questions persistently.

Encrid lowered the hand that had been scratching his forehead.

Among the squad members, Rem was the most active, but even Rem only dealt with people within a certain boundary.

It was evident when you looked closely.

He was the type who didn’t let people inside that boundary.

In some ways, Rem could be considered more difficult to deal with than a lazy person like Ragna.

Still, Rem would say what needed to be said.

Ragna, on the other hand, rarely said even what was necessary.

That’s why Ragna’s question was so surprising.

Encrid stared into Ragna’s eyes for a moment.

A silent pause passed between them.

Encrid stared intently as if in a staring contest, then soon looked up.

He saw a cloudless sky.

Despite the frequent recent rains, the sky was clear and blue without a single cloud.

It made him feel refreshed.

Looking at the sky, all thoughts about why Ragna was behaving this way, what his reasons for asking these questions were, and whether Encrid’s assumptions were correct, disappeared.

Encrid stopped worrying.

He asked a question, so he answered.

Whether dealing with a sword or with people, he always did his best.

‘Since when did I start worrying about such things?’

Even when doing his best in everything, what he desired was always far away, so he lived a life of constant longing.

Ragna asked why he did it.

He was probably referring to the way Encrid would swing his sword whenever he had the chance.

He was probably referring to his attitude of not taking anything lightly.

He was probably asking about his determination not to give up despite his mediocre skills.

So Encrid answered the question with a question.

“What if I were good with the sword?”

Outside the makeshift camp.

In a place without any shade, under the sunlight enveloping them both, Ragna’s gaze remained on Encrid’s face. Encrid spoke again.

“If I were good with it, what could I have become?”

Encrid’s voice was smooth, like a well-crafted instrument.

At least, that’s how it sounded to Ragna.

It wasn’t a voice heated with excitement, nor was it one filled with despair.

It was calm and serene, like reading a storybook to a child.

“Right now, I swing my sword to survive. But that’s not how I want to live.”

With those words, Encrid swung his sword. From top to bottom, vertically.

Whoosh.

The blade cut through the air, spreading its distinctive scent.

The smell of iron mixed with the battlefield’s aroma tickled Ragna’s nose.

Encrid continued what he was doing, whether Ragna was beside him or not.

He was practicing his swordsmanship.

From top to bottom.

From bottom to top.

Diagonally, then horizontally.

Soon he was engaging with an imaginary opponent, performing binds, pulling the sword and then executing a backhand strike.

Ragna watched the Squad Leader intently without saying a word.

A soldier of the lowest rank in the Kingdom of Naurillia.

Ragna knew that the Squad Leader’s skills were not just at the lowest level.

However, that didn’t mean he could be considered a high-level swordsman or warrior.

Even if he entered the mercenary field now, he would at best be slightly above average.

A mid-level mercenary was not considered highly skilled.

Having once been deeply involved in the mercenary world, Ragna knew well the levels of mercenary skills.

Regarding the sword, he had an innate insight as sharp as Frog’s.

He could assess the Squad Leader’s skill and see his limitations.

‘It’s already too late.’

The start was wrong.

He should have focused on the basics when he first held the sword. Lack of talent had robbed him of opportunities.

What about the Squad Leader now?

It was as he said.

Desperate struggle to survive, the skills honed for that purpose were holding him back.

There were only two things he had that were somewhat useful.

One was what he had learned from the barbarian Rem, who, despite his bad luck, had decent skills.

Then there was the sudden improvement in his thrusting technique.

Aside from those two, he lacked the basics and always relied on unorthodox methods.

That reliance on unorthodox methods was the problem.

Ragna fully utilized his insight but instead of telling him, he asked about what was on his mind.

“If you become good with the sword, what will you do then?”

Encrid stopped swinging his sword.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down to his chin before falling to the ground.

The sweat quickly seeped into the dirt beneath his feet.

Sunlight, sword, wind, sky.

With all of this in his heart, Encrid spoke the dream he had repeated countless times.

“A knight, I want to become a knight who charges to the end of the battlefield.”

“Why?”

Ragna asked back. To him, it was a natural question.

Ragna could see the path.

A path where the destination was clear even without experiencing it.

Would that path be enjoyable?

If there’s nothing specific to do or desire at the destination, there’s no will to walk that path.

That was Ragna.

He saw the path and the destination but was a wanderer who didn’t want to walk it, who couldn’t walk it.

“Do I need a reason to want to become one?”

Encrid asked in return.

This is a romance. A longing. It’s his life and the days he’s lived through.

It’s also the dream of his younger days when he was captivated.

How many times had he repeated his dream?

There’s no need for a reason to want something.

But it’s not just a fleeting desire.

“I want to live according to what I believe is right. To draw my sword for the poor and sick, to draw my sword for honor, and to draw my sword for the ones I love.”

What is a knight?

Is it merely a well-trained killing machine?

Often, knights were referred to as such.

A combat weapon specialized in killing.

But if the knight Encrid dreamed of was merely that, he wouldn’t have continued wielding his sword till now.

A person who expresses his will through honor and faith, through the sword.

A sword embodying chivalry that most people no longer seek.

As Encrid spoke, he thought of Krang.

Why did Krang’s words have such power?

How did his words draw everyone in?

Now, he felt he understood a little.

It was because they were sincere and genuine.

That was the foundation.

So Encrid spoke with all his heart.

This came as a shock to Ragna.

Of course, Encrid didn’t know this because Ragna didn’t show it outwardly.

Ragna asked himself a question.

He wanted to live according to what he believed was right, but why did he need a sword?

Because without power, it’s hard to realize what one believes in.

There was always a void swirling in his chest.

That was the source of his helplessness.

But now, during his conversation with Encrid, a different flame was igniting in his heart instead of that helplessness.

With this flame starting to bloom in his heart, Ragna fell into deep thought.

He even sat down on the grass on one side of the plain.

What is a knight, and what is a sword?

As these thoughts trailed off, he came to a conclusion.

‘I won’t know unless I walk the path.’

He found a reason to walk the path.

Encrid left him alone and continued to swing his sword.

In the silence, only the sword, the sky, and the wind moved.

Though some distance away, the noisy sounds of soldiers in the camp could be heard, but other than that, it was quiet.

The silence didn’t last long.

“Do you want to learn the sword?”

Ragna, staring blankly at a pointed rock stuck in the ground, opened his mouth.

Smack!

With a thrust, sweat scattered into the air.

Encrid stopped in that position. He answered, his breath steady and his gaze fixed on the tip of his sword.

“Yes.”

It was a simple and calm response.

If there was an opportunity to learn, he wouldn’t miss it. For Encrid, it was a given.

Ragna was surprised at what he said and at himself for saying it.

‘Why did I say that?’

But soon he realized the reason.

Half of it was the desire to show the desperate Squad Leader the right path.

The other half was for himself.

‘If the Squad Leader is by my side.’

He would unconsciously put in more effort.

Seeing how Encrid lived was stimulating.

Ragna needed stimulation, something to push him to walk the long and tedious path.

The presence of the Squad Leader was that stimulation for him.

With him around, he would train, however clumsily.

The moment he saw the Squad Leader making progress, it brought a vitality he had never felt before.

He had sparred with the Squad Leader, volunteered to go scouting, and even loosened up through Rem.

It was a rare occurrence.

At least for Ragna himself.

So, what would happen if he taught the Squad Leader?

It was more of a selfish act than an altruistic one.

And Encrid didn’t worry about reasons.

‘Why is he doing this?’

He hadn’t asked for help, yet Ragna offered to teach him the sword.

When learning The Heart of the Beast, he had only managed it by pestering Rem.

And when he learned from Jaxon.

All of it happened because he pushed himself first.

But this time, it was different.

After observing him for days, Ragna suddenly approached, asked a few questions, and offered to teach him the sword.

It felt like a good opportunity.

So he didn’t want to question the reason.

When sparring, Ragna would remain silent about swordsmanship except for the necessary movements.

Encrid was like a hungry wolf when it came to the sword.

During sparring, he asked countless questions and pushed further, but Ragna evaded answering.

And now, suddenly, he was offering to teach.

“Then first of all.”

Ragna dusted off his pants as he stood up, chewing on his words as if carefully choosing them.

Encrid, with his sword tip pointed down, waited patiently.

While waiting, Rem’s words came to his mind.

“I’m not really the one to teach you the sword.”

Rem was skilled with both the axe and the sword. Encrid had seen him slice and stab enemies with his sword multiple times.

“I swing based purely on instinct, and that’s not something you can teach. So it’s better for the Squad Leader to learn more systematically.”

It didn’t seem like he didn’t want to teach out of reluctance or because he was stingy with his skills.

If that were the case, he wouldn’t have taught him The Heart of the Beast.

At the time, Encrid had simply accepted it and moved on.

While Encrid was lost in thought, Ragna spoke.

“Something about the beast’s heart or conscience that you learned from the barbarian.”

…The Heart of the Beast. How did that become the beast’s innards?

If Rem had heard that, he would have swung his axe immediately.

“And the thrust.”

Ragna continued, looking Encrid straight in the eye.

“Other than that, you need to rebuild from the beginning. Are you okay with that?”

Encrid tilted his head, momentarily not understanding.

“So, I’m saying you need to rebuild your basics. Can you do that?”

Ragna knew no other way to teach or learn.

Encrid found it momentarily difficult to accept.

“Why?”

Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

No matter what others said, he thought it was a great technique and swordsmanship.

“If you keep using that mercenary swordsmanship, you won’t be able to get any better than you are now.”

Then Ragna continued to explain.

His examples were crude, and his explanations were not clear, but Encrid quickly understood.

The core message was simple.

His current state had clear limits.

He could improve if he continued training as he was.

But the progress would be slow, and he wouldn’t be able to surpass his limits.

When asked why, Ragna said it was because he had learned too many miscellaneous things.

“The point is, you lack the basics.”

He didn’t expect to hear such words.

Even when he took silver or gold coins to find a training school, they always emphasized the importance of basics, so he had accepted it and invested quite a bit of time.

In hindsight, it made sense to hear this now.

He had always paid to learn.

During that time, Encrid couldn’t focus on just the basics.

So, he had practiced what he thought were basic slashing and thrusting moves on his own.

That was the problem.

A brief realization dawned on him. Encrid felt a sudden joy that shook his entire body.

The hand holding his sword trembled.

He saw a path.

It was crude, but beyond the wall and darkness that always blocked his view, a path had opened.

The joy of this moment was incomparable to any other emotion he had experienced in life.

As his hand trembled, Ragna spoke in a cautious tone.

“Now you have to choose. Will you start anew, or will you be satisfied with where you are?”

Ragna thought Encrid would give up.

Starting anew meant rebuilding from the ground up.

That would mean his current mid-upper level skills would drop to a lower level.

Could he endure that?

Someone who makes a living in the heart of the battlefield?

Unless he had multiple lives.

Even if he wanted to, it wouldn’t be easy.

In the face of death, his body would naturally rely on the techniques it was familiar with.

“You’ll need to stake a few lives on this.”

Ragna said, his tone rough but filled with concern.

Encrid nodded.

Ragna questioned with his eyes, unclear about the meaning, so Encrid continued.

“I’ll rebuild from scratch.”

“Really?”

Ragna was surprised by the answer.

There didn’t seem to be a hint of hesitation in Encrid’s response.

Even though just a moment ago, his hands had been trembling.

Ragna had thought it was out of anger, frustration, or despair.

But Encrid’s reaction was the exact opposite.

“Yes.”

He was genuinely happy.

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