Chapter 321

The ferryman finally burst into laughter.

"Good."

"Good"—just one word.

It was only natural that silence fell.

It was cold.

It was winter, so it was cold.

The fire in the stove crackled, flaring up.

At that moment, the cold winter wind blew in from the tent entrance.

The biting cold winter wind.

If it had been an ordinary person, wouldn’t it have felt like a dagger piercing their heart?

But there were no ordinary people here, including Enkrid.

"I could say the same," Kraiss added, almost slyly.

It wasn’t wrong.

Naturally, Enkrid wasn’t flustered.

After all, when had Ragna been a smooth talker?

Even the guy who pressured Rem in his own pace had no real teaching skills.

So there was no reason to be flustered.

"Explain it."

"If a lightning bolt falls, how do you block it?"

For Ragna, this was the best he could do.

Of course, to others, it was the worst explanation.

But did that matter?

Of course not.

Enkrid was always a good listener and could be a good student.

He knew how to listen properly.

No, he could be called a listener who would relentlessly pry and extract answers if the other person couldn’t explain well.

"I can’t block it."

Enkrid answered.

"You can block it."

Ragna added.

"So how? Explain it well."

It would be nice if Ragna got used to explaining, but that was asking for too much.

Ragna couldn’t find the path, wasn’t good at explaining, was picky about food, and his personality wasn’t exactly pleasant.

He didn’t care about reputation and was unpredictable.

Some days, he even found talking a bother.

It sounded chaotic when said like this, but when it came to using a sword, Ragna was the best.

He was truly the best of the best.

"You identify the omen first and strike."

Ragna gave his best explanation.

This was, for him, the best he could offer.

It was a matter of senses and talent.

Enkrid persisted.

He asked countless questions and listened to the answers.

Ragna spoke within the limits of what he could say.

It didn’t form a perfect image in his mind.

Nothing came to mind.

But this wasn’t the end.

If I can delay death...

Today could be used even more fully.

If he put Ragna at the forefront for that purpose, he could even see Ragna block the knight's sword.

Of course, Enkrid wasn’t going to do that.

Using today fully and putting Ragna ahead, knowing he couldn’t endure, was a different matter.

That was a line that should not be crossed.

It was a line that had formed in his mind from the very first repetition of today.

For some, that became a belief, and for others, it would become a form of honor.

Honor.

Before the god of death, who spoke of honor, came, Enkrid had to do everything he could.

In the back-and-forth of questioning and answering, he worked on manifesting his thoughts and reasoning.

This wasn’t the end either.

"Shinar."

The fairy too had managed to block that strike.

She reacted.

How could she do that?

"Do you know how to block a lightning bolt?"

"Just avoid it before it strikes."

"What if you can’t avoid it?"

"You could use a lightning rod."

She said this as she tapped her age.

Her words carried a sort of learned meaning, almost like a half-joke.

There was a sense of deep understanding in what she said.

Something accompanied her words, a profound realization.

"Those old enough are easy to pull and good for cutting, spilling, and blocking."

"What if you had to block a knight's sword?"

It was a sudden question, but no one found it strange.

After all, this was just how Enkrid was.

He was obsessed with swords and fought for an impossible dream.

That’s what had shaped him into who he was now.

Everyone recognized this.

So, it was normal for him to spout nonsense like this.

Even Kraiss just observed it like part of daily life.

Dunbakel looked as though she wished someone would ask her soon.

"Before the opponent can step away, before they place their hand on the sword, I would draw my sword first."

Shinar, who was speaking, felt as though she was being drawn into Enkrid’s magic.

This man... what was he?

Even before, but now, he had become an even greater fire.

In her eyes, it almost seemed as if a fire spirit was residing in him.

No, not a fire spirit.

It was the swirling emotions of longing, passion, and joy.

Intense emotions pricked the sensitive heart of the fairy.

While Frokk might see talent, the fairy felt emotions.

That was a trait inherent to their kind.

To live on the continent, one had to dull this trait, ignore certain things.

While Frokk had to become accustomed to the word “heart,” fairies had to learn how to calmly ride the waves of emotion.

In that regard, Shinar was an excellent example of a fairy who had adapted well to life on the continent.

And yet...

It’s hot.

Enkrid didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t act hastily.

He didn’t flail his arms or legs.

He simply spoke a few words while stretching his body.

He came closer and opened his mouth.

Yet, that heat stirred Shinar.

It touched the fairy’s blood.

That made Shinar serious.

Her smile—she didn’t often smile—disappeared, and her response was devoid of jokes.

"The knight's sword is a calamity."

"How would you block something you call a calamity?"

Throwing the question back was, perhaps, the answer they needed now.

If an earthquake happened, could it be stopped by human strength?

What about a tornado?

Floods?

Typhoons?

Heavy rain?

Droughts?

They were all natural disasters.

A knight is called a “human disaster,” a calamity created by humans.

Among all the creatures on the continent—dragons, elves, giants, dwarfs, beastkin, and humans—humans were the ones with the greatest number of beings, which led to the nickname “human disaster” being applied to knights.

A more intuitive expression would be that “disaster” is the correct term.

Naturally, there were also elven knights.

Beastkin were sometimes called “heroes” in a similar concept.

Among the human tribes, there were other terms used for similar beings, different from knights.

The term didn’t matter, though.

Shinar recalled the past, looked at the present, and envisioned the future.

“A way to move forward.”

Shinar Kirhais had seen his limits by giving up something in the past.

He had lost the path forward.

However, it was because he had given that up that he had come this far.

It was a paradoxical thing.

Had the fish he missed seemed bigger?

Or had he realized that the fish he missed was necessary to stand by the man before him?

“Perhaps.”

What would it feel like to see the man before him die by the knight's sword?

It was a coincidence, but the elven sharpness and intelligence had accurately predicted what was to come.

“It would certainly not be something pleasant.”

If that were the case, regret would likely follow.

The fish he missed would come to mind again.

“Useless thoughts.”

Shinar, though outwardly calm, shook his head inside.

Such a useless distraction.

Enkrid, upon hearing Shinar’s question, fell into thought.

Ragna had mentioned the lightning.

Perhaps that was what Shinar had referred to.

The elf had been somewhat considerate in his explanation.

After hearing both of their words, a conclusion formed in Shinar’s mind.

“How can one block lightning?”

That was the answer to seek first.

“Are you not going to ask me?”

Lost in thought, Dunbakel came closer and asked.

“About what?”

“The knight thing... the sword, all that.”

“Go to bed.”

Dunbakel was still lacking.

There was no need to ask in the first place.

And he was an animalkin who could figure things out without needing to ask.

“Just block it with a clash!”

Right, he got it.

Enkrid patted Dunbakel’s head.

“That was very helpful.”

His tone was devoid of any emotion.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He nodded vaguely and sent him back to his bed. Krais, seeing that, was impressed.

“I think the captain would be the best employee once he enters the salon.”

Lady Furi had no desire to be the best in her skill.

After that, until evening, they rested, ate, thought, swung their swords in the air, checked their gear, and expressed that they had worked hard.

It was all about mental preparation.

There was no talk of magic or nonsense today.

It was due to Enkrid’s strange strength and intense gaze.

While he hadn’t spoken directly, his gaze and his demeanor continuously struck Shinar’s heart.

Of course, she controlled her emotions well, so her heart didn’t race wildly.

And then the knight appeared.

“Once.

Just once, block it.

That would be the minimum duty to protect my honor.”

Why did he always say such unnecessary things?

Enkrid gripped his sword and held his breath.

How would he block lightning?

At first, it seemed he had to meet the sword head-on, didn’t he?

Flowing sword—Enkrid’s first sword technique, the Serpent Sword.

Could lightning not be flowed too?

“…It almost feels like you're waiting for it. Strange.”

The knight spoke.

Enkrid did not answer.

Concentration blazed, and the ominous feeling shattered the chains.

Afterward, he focused all his attention, watching his opponent without any hesitation.

He was waiting to see the beginning of the sword's strike, which came without any preparatory movement.

“So it is.”

Shinar muttered from behind.

“Were you a prophet?”

Krais was also astounded.

“Were you the one who told him to hold the sword?”

Would Ragna be any different?

Would Esther be surprised?

Dunbakel froze, staring at his opponent.

“What’s that?”

Beastkin were creatures that triggered survival instincts, and that thing was a monster.

Whoosh.

The sword came flying.

First, he had to meet it head-on.

How to block lightning? It went like this.

Whoosh.

Enkrid saw a vision.

He saw the sword bending before him.

The sword shook, poking his own, and then seemed to clash against his blade.

It was so bizarre that he wondered if he had truly seen it.

And then his heart cracked.

The boatman saw beyond the mundane world, even beyond the reality.

The present could not escape his eyes.

Watching the cursed one die was his only amusement and joy.

However, this time, the cursed one was rather peculiar.

“Laughing?”

He laughed while dying.

He laughed despite the pain.

He laughed even as the agony struck his entire body.

He laughed even though he appeared trapped in a dark cave.

Enkrid found it amusing, seeing something new, but for the boatman, it was neither familiar nor ordinary.

The boatman kept watching.

In the repeating today, Enkrid died again and again.

He laughed as he died, agonized as he died, thought as he died, and pondered as he died.

What joy could there be in such repetition?

None.

The boatman knew that.

He knew it well.

He knew better than anyone why today’s repetition was a curse.

“That guy’s a madman.”

The boatman murmured to himself.

“Despair... doesn’t become despair?”

He asked himself again.

“Neither anguish, nor ignorance, nor despair could taint his will.”

He muttered to himself.

And so, he observed Enkrid as he died.

He watched.

He kept watching.

Dying and dying again.

“Are you still enjoying it?”

Occasionally, when he asked directly.

“Hmm? What did you say?”

Enkrid didn’t even listen properly.

He was fully immersed in the current situation.

He wasn’t seeing anything, nor listening to anything, focusing entirely on one thing.

And he enjoyed that.

The boatman recalled an old saying from the continent.

It was a memory before he became the boatman.

Having had the gift of forgetting stolen, it was easy to recall past memories.

“Those who know are not as good as those who like. Those who like are not as good as those who enjoy.”

To know is to grasp.

To grasp is to believe the things you know are the truth.

That is the path to stagnation, not progress.

It’s stopping and becoming satisfied with the present.

To like is to have the power to strive.

Because you like it, you put in the effort to achieve it.

Thus, it’s progress, not stagnation.

However, you work for the reward.

You work for what comes next.

Liking is the driving force.

Effort is the mental power that drives you to work.

To enjoy, however, is to abandon everything.

To forget oneself and the situation, and immerse fully in the moment.

It’s like playing for the first time as a child, forgetting time.

If one could do that even as an adult...

If only one could do that...

Ah, one would forget oneself and focus without even realizing it.

But, could there really be such a person?

No.

He had never seen one.

Usually, they wore down.

They got worn out.

The mind also disappears.

Effort fades.

They grow tired.

They get fed up.

They become drenched in fatigue.

They collapse.

They’re consumed by exhaustion.

Everyone was like that.

But the boatman’s eyes saw someone who wasn’t like that.

Certainly, this was the craziest person he had ever seen.

So, he continued repeating today.

The repetition didn’t become shackles or a prison for him.

The bars couldn’t contain the human known as Enkrid.

Despite this, the boatman’s eyes didn’t lose their clarity.

He kept watching.

Today’s shackles were solid.

Heavy.

Unbreakable.

Then, what should be done?

Enkrid gave an answer.

Shackles?

Just run with them on.

In fact, it seemed like he didn’t even realize the shackles were on him.

“Heh.”

The boatman finally laughed.