âWhy wonât you stop?â
Edin Molsen wasnât intimidating. At first, it felt wrong to beat him like this, but repetition makes it easier, doesnât it?
In other words, it wasnât about him being the son of Count Molsen, but rather about respecting an opponent who doesnât know how to give up.
So, he ended up focusing on beating him up.
âGo easy on him, please. Go easy.â
Krais said, unable to watch any longer.
âHe keeps coming at me.â
It wasnât just senseless beating. He was an opponent who endlessly challenged and attacked.
How could he treat someone like that half-heartedly?
Encrid just couldnât do it. The path he had walked made him realize that half-hearted treatment would be more harmful. It would be more unpleasant.
For Encrid, respecting his opponent was the easier and more comfortable way. Of course, it was his own perspective and method.
âHere we go again.â
Edin Molsen came with a wooden sword once more. He wasnât attacking just because he was stupid.
At least now, he no longer used a real sword. At first, he didnât even draw his sword before being knocked down, but now it was different.
Of course, he swung, slashed, and stabbed.
Encrid never lost his manners.
To him, manners meant not ignoring the sincerity shown by his opponent.
His manners wereâŠ
Whack!
Hitting him on the head without holding back at all.
âUgh!â
A single scream and then striking his solar plexus hard enough to make him pass out.
âBrother!â
Edin Molsenâs younger brother, who had been watching, was initially shocked. But only at the beginning.
As he said, repetition dulls the senses.
âAre you alright?â
Now, even when Edin fell, his brother remained unfazed.
If Encrid had intended to kill him, he would have done so already. If he had meant to cripple him, he would have done so too.
Hadnât they already sparred more than twenty times?
âNo way, heâs here again? That body sure is tough.â
In some ways, Rem should be Edinâs enemy. Isnât he the one who killed his brother?
But Rem didnât seem to care at all.
He sure has a thick skin. Are all barbarians like this?
Itâs an unnecessary question. Itâs not important. Whether his skin is thick or not, Rem is Rem.
A monster who handles two axes incredibly well.
Encrid is extremely satisfied and pleased with the monsterâs skills.
âIâm warmed up.â
At Encridâs words, a smile spread across Remâs face.
âOnce again, I have to sayâŠâ
âThat I might die?â
Despite his words being cut off, Rem still smiled. With a broad grin, Encrid replied.
âYou might too.â
âDamn, I usually donât swear, but did you know? Iâm the happiest when I smash the Commanderâs face.â
Encrid agreed with those words, both mentally and physically.
He could deeply sympathize with it.
âYouâre just like me.â
ââŠDo you have a habit of hitting your own face?â
Encridâs gaze fixed on Rem.
His gray eyes met Encridâs blue ones directly.
Rem hadnât been idle all this time either.
If Encrid had learned the Heart of the Beast, Rem had also learned something.
Now, it seemed his skills had greatly improved. The technique of twisting someoneâs mood and making them boil with anger, that is.
âYes, I do have such a habit.â
When he admitted it abruptly, Rem frowned.
âAdmitting it here?â
There is always someone better.
Ignoring mental blows and responding in unexpected waysâthatâs the essence of verbal sparring.
âAre you just going to wag your tongue?â
At this question, which called for the end of the verbal sparring, Remâs axes swished through the air. He was wielding two again.
The Madmen Platoon had accomplished a lot during this time. Requesting an axe from the armory was no big deal.
The difference was, in the past, Rem didnât care much about his weapons, but this time he requested them considering weight distribution and balance.
âI canât make it that precise.â
The blacksmith said.
âWell, canât be helped then.â
The fact that Rem didnât argue further suggested he wasnât overly concerned.
Anyway, the important thing was what he could do with this changed axe.
Ping.
Encrid tapped the axe blade with his sword.
âStop breaking my axes.â
Rem muttered as he charged. For a moment, it felt like his body grew larger. He was that fast and bold.
A sudden realization struck.
Whose was the Heart of the Beast originally?
In terms of boldness and daring, Rem was the best.
Encrid swung his sword vertically to the ground.
This too was a lightning-fast slash.
Swish.
The sword cut through empty air.
Remâs body blurred. The accelerating axe turned into a flash of light and struck. One from above, one from below.
At first, he was caught off guard by the axes that curved like whips.
Enduring that, he then faced strikes as fast as light.
And now?
Thwap! Thwap!
Encrid swung his sword up and down. The blade rippled like a wave, deflecting the two strikes.
Fluid Sword Technique, Wave Passing.
He saw it in the Rapier Swordsman, refined it through Shepherd Pell, and perfected it against Rem.
Rem didnât care that he was blocked. As soon as he was stopped, he threw one axe into the air. Then, holding just one axe, he charged again.
Unorthodox, bold.
Bizarre and daring.
That was Rem. To put it simply, Encrid lost.
âThat was close.â
âReally?â
âYeah.â
Should he be satisfied with those words? Should he?
No, there was no need. Encrid learned something new again today.
More precisely, he realized what he lacked.
From the Sense of the Blade to the Gate of Sixth Sense, to the Sense of Evasion.
Jaxon called it âSense Techniqueâ.
He hadnât neglected honing it, but that was what led to his defeat.
âToo sensitive.â
He had been too focused on the axe Rem threw into the air. Should he have ignored it then?
In the end, Rem kicked the falling axe to accelerate it and struck his shoulder.
âSelection and focus.â
Itâs a review. Reflecting and understanding.
It was a familiar process.
It was Encridâs daily routine. The difference now was the speed at which he was learning.
It was similar to when he first realized what talent was. The Heart of the Beast, Sense Technique, Focus Point, and the Isolation Technique were like that. đ«ĂąÎïŒŻBĂÈ
This time was no different.
âWill.â
Though it was just âWillâ, the experience gave him a new perspective.
What is a genius? Itâs hard to explain. Everything comes naturally to them. It felt like he had gained a part of that natural ease.
It was the same now.
The process of reflecting after defeat, realizing his mistakes, and figuring out what was needed was different from before.
Encrid wasnât aware of it.
He was just doing what he always did.
Of course, everyone, including Rem, noticed.
âWill, huh.â
That Troublesome Commander and âWill,â huh.
âWow, really.â
The fledgling who didnât know when he would die on the battlefield had become a chicken with a steel beak.
No, he could no longer be called a chicken.
He could now be called a beast.
Hiding his admiration, Rem spoke.
âThat damn Countâs son must have some scheme, seeing how he keeps coming.â
âI see.â
Encrid, already deep in thought, didnât care.
No, even if he had heard it, he would have ignored it.
Not just Rem, everyone had something to say.
âThat brother is hiding something.â
Audin said so too.
Jaxon gestured that he found him suspicious, and Krais even formulated a few theories.
âWhy is he here? Broadly speaking, I see two reasons. One, the Count might covet you, Commander. The second, heâs trying to find your weakness.â
Krais said he felt something similar in Edin Molsenâs gaze. Whether it was surveillance or exploration.
Encrid partially agreed.
Edin Molsenâs escort showed a similar attitude, but what mattered to Encrid wasnât his gaze.
âShould I draw it out?â
The escort never fully showed his skills. Sometimes his eyes gleamed fiercely, and that made Encrid expect more, butâŠ
He always held back. He never went all out. He didnât raise his momentum to dangerous levels.
âThat guy knows what heâs doing.â
Rem said that the escort had also stepped into âWillâ.
So at the very least, he was on par with them.
Anyway, the escort had refused any further sparring requests since then.
âI am just Edin Molsenâs escort.â
Then, why did he challenge him before?
It was a test, an assessment, an evaluation.
âFor what?â
Encrid wondered for a moment if he should figure that out.
He decided it wasnât necessary.
So, he ignored it. He ignored Edin Molsenâs strange looks.
He ignored his younger brotherâs peculiar stares.
He ignored the escortâs occasional loitering.
Even when Jaxon subtly suggested that removing those who were bothersome was an option, he ignored it.
However, when Edin wanted to spar, he would face him properly.
Months passed since Edin Molsen stayed in the territory, and the time had come when the cold naturally brought out comments about the chill.
It looked like snow would fall soon.
During this time, there were a few changes.
âI am Teresa the Wanderer.â
The half-blood Giant would often open her mouth and mutter to herself.
During the day, it was fine.
It seemed like a form of resolve and reflection.
However, when she mumbled like that in her sleep, it was with a lot of cold sweat, a sign of nightmares.
Whenever Audin heard her muttering like that, he would quietly place his hand on her forehead.
âSleep as calmly as the settled ashes.â
The God of war is the embodiment of burned-out ashes, and he represents him.
He prayed while placing his hand on the forehead of the follower of the Sacred Cult.
It was an unusual sight, but Teresa never complained when she woke up.
After waking, she would just blink and eventually glance at Encrid once before falling back asleep.
By now, it was a familiar routine.
There were many other changes in daily life.
Dunbachel, instead of getting beaten by Rem, had taken on a different task, and the reason was Remâs insistence.
âItâs only right to receive a teaching fee.â
Rem claimed that since he had taught Dunbachel, it was time to pay for it.
Dunbachel did not argue that she had never wanted any of it.
In fact, she had asked Encrid herself.
âWhat is that barbarian?â
It was a difficult question to answer.
âA lunatic? A guy with a broken head? A noble killer? An axe murderer? A crazy axe wielder?â
Too many things came to mind to choose from.
Fortunately, Dunbachel did not wait for an answer.
âIâve improved.â
When Encrid personally sparred with Dunbachel, he found her words to be true. In other words, Dunbachel wasnât cursing Rem but genuinely curious about it.
âYouâve improved.â
Whenever Dunbachel whimpered, rubbing her thigh where the flat of the blade had struck hard, she would tear up a little and nod.
âYeah.â
She had indeed improved. To an unrecognizable degree. Are all beastmen like this?
Or is it because of some legend about golden eyes?
Itâs hard to say. And he wasnât interested either.
Encrid felt Dunbachelâs gaze and looked in her direction. He saw her golden eyes.
She was currently thinking of Encrid as a monster.
Having endured Remâs violence, she now felt confident she could defeat her former self, even if there were two of her.
But Encrid had gone even further in the meantime.
âA genius.â
She was mistaken, but it wasnât her fault. Anyone would see it that way.
Most importantly, âWillâ, even if just a part of it, it was âWillâ.
She realized that.
The exclusive domain of Knights, the strength of those with Knightly power.
That change had come upon Encrid.
Seeing Encrid, Ragna recognized that it was time to address his own shortcomings.
He had recognized them before, but lacked the motivation to act.
Now, Ragna acted.
âKrais, I want a sword thatâs double-layered like this.â
âDo I look like someone who will bring you what you want if you ask for it? If so, youâve got it right.â
Krais, having weighed the bag of krona and counted the silver coins Ragna handed over, adopted a compliant attitude towards the money.
Ragna obtained a sword.
Though it was not sharpened, its size and shape were similar to a bastard sword, but it was several times heavier than a typical sword.
Ragna began to swing it slowly.
There was no speed. He performed each move slowly, methodically. He spent more than half of his waking hours in this manner.
It was a significant improvement, and anyone who knew Ragna would be surprised.
Encrid spent the majority of his waking hours training, but this was Ragna, the embodiment of laziness.
Though it hadnât been half a day, seeing him dedicate himself to training like that was a marvel in itself.
Back to the present, Rem demanded krona from Dunbachel.
Dunbachel complied without complaint.
âGo earn some krona.â
Recently, the area had been teeming with beasts and monsters like never before.
It was winter. Naturally, this happened.
When food becomes scarce, they tend to become more aggressive.
âLooks like itâs going to snow, doesnât it?â
Krais said while cutting Ragnaâs hair.
Encrid silently looked up at the sky. The dull gray clouds were gradually covering the sky.
If it got just a bit colder, the devilâs excrement would fall.
Well, around this time last year, they had struggled to clear the falling snow.
NowâŠ
âTraining Company, assemble!â
That one command would be enough.
Life continued even after the Rapier Swordsman left.
The daily routine hadnât changed, but the things within it were evolving.
Edin Molsen had become a long-term guest, and in the meantime, his escort had left, citing other business.
It was a departure without any formal goodbyes.
At the beginning of winter, with the first snow seemingly imminent.
Dunbachel went out on a beast extermination request.
Finn, who had started wandering outside some time ago, moved under the command of the Fairy Company Commander from the Independent Company.
âCan I go?â
She seemed more lively leaving than when she arrived, which was probably a good thing.
âDo as you wish.â
Encrid said indifferently.
There was no reason or need to stop her.
Teresa came in, and Finn went out.
It was a day when, despite these changes, the daily routine remained the same.
âIndependent Company Commander, you are being summoned!â
Late in the afternoon, despite it being winter, Encrid was sweating profusely while swinging his sword when a messenger arrived.
âThey said itâs urgent.â
With those words, Encrid immediately headed to the Battalion Commanderâs office.
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