Chapter 151
It was early morning.
Perhaps it was the moment where the end of dawn and the beginning of morning met.
As the sun began to rise, the training grounds on one side of the drill ground were bathed in an orange glow.
How many people would come out to the drill ground at this hour?
Unless they were on patrol, Encrid was likely the only one.
So, seeing someone out here before him at such a time was rare.
No, this was the first time.
Encrid thought as he placed his right hand on his waist and saluted.
It was only fitting.
After all, the man before him was the host of yesterday’s banquet and the current commander responsible for the city of Border Guards.
Nod.
Battalion Commander Marcus acknowledged the salute with a nod.
Marcus wasn’t alone. In fact, it was rarer to see him alone. Two others stood behind him.
Two figures stood in the shaded corner of the drill ground.
One of them, Frok, took a step forward.
It was difficult for human eyes to fully distinguish Frok’s features.
But at the very least, it was clear that this Frok was different from the one he had met before.
There were no scars on his neck.
His fierce gaze was gone.
Instead, his white cheeks puffed up lightly with curiosity.
Gurgle.
Frok made his distinctive sound as his large eyes scanned Encrid from head to toe.
From the top of his head to the tips of his toes.
Then from his toes back up to his head, before finally settling on his face.
It was a talent in itself to make his gaze so explicit.
“I suppose introductions are in order.”
Marcus spoke from behind.
It was a timely suggestion.
Frok stopped his gurgling and opened his mouth.
“Frok.”
Well, that was obvious.
Even without looking at his face, just seeing his three fingers was enough. His entire appearance marked him as a different species.
“Too many words.”
The other person stepped forward. No, ‘stepped forward’ wasn’t enough to describe it.
For a moment, Encrid saw an illusion.
An illusion of his neck being severed.
The illusion came first, then his reaction followed.
Clang!
The clash of blades rang across the drill ground.
Encrid had blocked the attack with his half-drawn sword.
When had he drawn it?
If not for the instincts honed through countless deaths…
Would he have died? Or would she have stopped?
He couldn’t be sure.
“You blocked that?”
A voice came from his opponent.
It was a high-pitched voice. A woman with her short hair tied back.
Her round face looked gentle, but the sword in her hand was anything but.
“Want to keep going?”
With a voice filled with ease, the sword struck again.
There was no better word to describe it—her strikes poured down upon him.
Encrid saw the sword coming down on his head.
He saw the blade stabbing toward his abdomen.
His neck was cut, his arm severed.
His thigh was pierced.
Even his foot was targeted.
It felt like standing naked in the middle of a storm.
Like riding a small boat into a tidal wave.
‘If I don’t get out of here right now, I’ll die.’
Fear of death loomed over him.
Even if today repeated itself endlessly, even if growth awaited at the end…
A human being could not simply cut away and forget fear.
Encrid was merely a madman who knew how to fight against it.
‘If I retreat…’
Within the storm of blades, he realized that he could escape if he just stepped back.
If he simply retreated, it would all be over.
He wouldn’t have to stand alone in this storm any longer.
So, would he retreat?
– “Dreams exist to be abandoned.”
– “You keep thinking like that, and of course, your head’s going to hurt.”
– “Are you crazy? What? A knight? Some lowly mercenary?”
– “Sorry, that was my first real battle.”
– “Go back to your village. Become a farmer. If you hate that, join the village militia—you could probably even make it to captain.”
With mocking laughter.
The voices of those who had spoken to him in the past echoed in his mind.
His heart pounded wildly.
They had told him.
To give up, that it was meaningless.
They had asked him.
If the path he was walking was truly the right one.
Within the storm of blades, Encrid had died countless times.
And yet, darkness never came, nor did the ferryman appear.
He simply died. Over and over again.
Light faded. Instead of the dawn’s glow, the shadow of death descended.
Pain and suffering struck his body from all sides.
He already knew the answer.
All he had to do was take a single step back.
One step backward.
The storm of blades urged him. This was not his place to stand.
If he just retreated, he would be freed from all the pain and suffering.
He understood it. He acknowledged it.
Yet, he could not step back.
Even though he knew that retreating here would have no effect on his swordsmanship, his trained body, or his physical abilities.
Even though he knew that just stepping back would end it all.
Still, he could not step back.
His tattered, worn-out dream asked him—
– “And you think you’ll become a knight like this?”
The words of those who had passed through his life never shook him.
Because they never mattered.
But this… This was different.
This was not something he could allow.
The moment he decided to become a knight…
Encrid had already wielded the sharpest sword.
That sword was his will, conviction, and determination.
If his resolve crumbled, he would have nowhere left to stand.
Even if he had to crawl, he could not erase the steps he had taken forward.
Encrid never considered retreating.
He simply—
‘Not enough.’
He realized his own inadequacy.
His body’s coordination, his sense of evasion.
What if he had trained them properly? If he had mastered them completely?
And what of the Heart of Monstrous Strength?
The Isolation Technique, and even the Valaf Style martial arts would have been useful.
If he had diligently honed his fundamentals, standing firm and extending his sword precisely like a well-groomed mustache…
All of it could have been the foundation to overcome this moment.
Encrid could not retreat.
“Enough.”
As suddenly as it had begun, the storm ceased.
The moment Frok stepped in between them, it vanished as if it had never been.
“Huff.”
Encrid exhaled the breath he had been holding.
Encrid’s heart pounded as if it would leap out of his chest.
His legs trembled. He wanted to collapse, but he endured.
Instead, he looked at his opponent— a woman with short hair and a gentle expression.
Encrid focused on one thing.
He wanted to know exactly what kind of trick she had just pulled.
“I’ve never seen someone like you before. You don’t even know how to handle it properly, yet you endured? If you had held out a little longer, you’d be dead.”
The owner of the storm, standing beside Frok, spoke.
“Who…?”
Encrid forced his lips to move and asked.
“Me? Aisia.”
As she spoke, she took a step forward.
Flutter.
She pulled the cloak that had been draped over her back and wrapped it around herself. The fluttering fabric unfurled like a banner.
Its color was a deep red that cut through the orange hues of the morning sky.
A red cloak. She was with Frok and personally escorted by Marcus. That meant…
“The Red Cloak Order?”
Encrid murmured, and the woman nodded.
“Junior Knight Aisia.”
She smiled—a bright, innocent smile that suited her gentle appearance.
And that was the end of it.
Standing firm and watching—that was all Encrid could do.
Then, his consciousness snapped. His vision turned black, and the ferryman appeared.
‘Did I die?’
No, it didn’t feel like that.
He wasn’t dead. So, was this a dream?
As he questioned it internally—
“It is a dream.”
The ferryman spoke. Even without eyes, nose, or mouth, it was strange how clearly Encrid could hear his voice.
“I will be watching.”
At those words, Encrid had another question.
“So you weren’t watching before?”
At that, the black boat floating on the dark river seemed to tilt slightly.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the dream ended.
Flickers of darkness and light.
Amidst them, the ferryman’s final words echoed in his ears.
“So, you skipped training today?”
…Why did that sound like he was teasing him?
Well, that was possible. There was no rule saying the ferryman couldn’t tease people.
But something about his tone made it feel oddly unsettling.
Encrid ignored it.
If something couldn’t be understood, then it wasn’t worth dwelling on.
Speaking of which—
He could have sworn he heard Jaxson’s voice just before he lost consciousness.
—
Frok reached out as he watched Encrid collapse—but then stopped.
Someone had already caught him from behind.
A man with reddish-brown hair and calm eyes.
“That was a bit much.”
Even his tone was quiet.
Frok turned his gaze slightly.
Nearby, another man radiating a wild, intimidating presence was glaring at him fiercely.
“What the hell are you doing this early in the morning?”
Gray hair, gray eyes—was he from the western frontier?
Behind him, a towering man built like a bear stood.
“Haha, my brothers and sisters, good morning! May I ask why you’re troubling my small and precious squad leader?”
…What were these guys?
Frok suddenly found himself wondering.
Behind the trio, another figure stood—a man with golden hair and red eyes, gripping a sword.
Clearly a northerner, judging by his distinctive features.
His hair was a tangled mess, and drool stains were still visible at the corner of his lips.
‘That stance with the sword…’
Frok liked it. A lot.
Frok had come here at Marcus’s request. The commander had asked him to assess someone’s potential.
To determine whether this person had the qualities to become a knight.
He had stopped by here on his way back after a battle at the frontlines.
Frok’s eyes were different from those of humans or elves.
He could perceive something beyond mere training—something innate.
Because of this, people called him Able Decider, the Talent Appraiser.
Right now, the Frok standing here was that talent appraiser.
He couldn’t immediately discern everything about a person, but sometimes, just looking was enough.
Especially when the talent was so radiant that it shone even in the mud.
And right now—these people were exactly that.
To Frok’s eyes, they were one in ten thousand.
Even among those, they were one in a thousand.
“Who are these guys?”
“Madmen from my squad.”
Marcus answered from behind.
It seemed he had already given some explanation.
Hadn’t he called them a bunch of lunatics?
He had said it was almost bizarre how they only followed their squad leader.
‘A shame…’
For now, he had no time to take them in.
More importantly, their current hostility made it clear—they weren’t people who could be taken lightly.
Even if they had the talent, not everyone with talent became a knight.
It wasn’t necessary to recruit them.
What is a knight?
It was a title reserved only for those who met every requirement, for those who stood at the pinnacle.
The name itself belonged to such individuals.
“Interesting bunch.”
Aisia spoke from behind.
She wasn’t particularly aggressive. She had only conducted the test as Marcus had requested.
She showed her palms, signaling that she had no intention to fight.
If Encrid had been awake, he would have been surprised.
Because after her first strike, she had never drawn her sword again.
Everything had been done through sheer pressure and presence.
To make someone faint purely through presence—
It was something only a junior knight could pull off.
And honestly, it wasn’t efficient at all.
It would have been far easier to just knock him out directly.
There was no real reason to go around exerting that kind of aura on purpose.
It was mentally exhausting, too.
Aisia had only done it because Marcus asked her to.
This was merely a test for a promising seed. That was all.
There was no real hostility involved.
And more than that—
Marcus’s next words captured everyone’s attention.
“What do you think? Can he become a knight?”
If the answer was yes, then Encrid could become a squire.
That meant being assigned under an official knight.
A gift from Marcus.
And not a worthless one.
What was Encrid’s dream?
What did he desire most?
A gift was only valuable if it was something the recipient truly longed for.
Marcus thought to himself—
That he had learned a thing or two from the world of politics.
He had prepared exactly what his opponent desired the most.
And so—the question hung in the air.
Aisia spoke first.
“No.”
Then, Frok followed.
“Not even close.”
What is a knight?
You gather ten thousand talented individuals.
From them, you narrow it down to a thousand.
Then, from those thousand, you filter out the few who truly belong.
Only those who step into that exclusive world are called knights.
“This one is impossible. What about that one? Are you interested?”
Frok directed the question precisely at one person.
His large, round eyes—akin to a frog’s—fixed on Ragna.
Ragna blinked his sleep-crusted eyes and responded.
“Not interested.”
Away from his squad leader, he was nothing more than a lazy slacker.
And no one knew that better than himself. His rejection was, of course, immediate.
‘Well, damn.’
Frok clicked his tongue in disappointment.
Just by looking at them, he thought that female Frok would have been very interested in them.
Not to mention, their skills were exceptional. If they joined the Red Cloak Order, it would have made things very interesting.
Yet, they refused?
Even when offered a position in the Red Cloak Order?
They couldn’t take everyone, but at least one could have been accepted.
“They’re interesting people. I’ve done you a favor, so don’t forget that, Battalion Commander Marcus.”
“Ah, of course.”
Behind them, Aisia and Marcus exchanged words.
Aisia patted Frok on the back.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
Both of them had plenty of work to do.
They had to return to the capital, deliver news of their victory, and report on the Azpen Agreement.
And beyond that, there was still a mountain of work waiting for them.
“I’ll stay a few more days.”
“Huh?”
Aisia tilted her head, her tied-up ponytail swaying side to side.
What nonsense is this?
“You go ahead.”
Frok said. Aisia looked like she wanted to say something but ultimately stayed silent.
It wouldn’t be a problem for her to leave alone.
Her very affiliation was proof of her identity.
She was a knight of the Red Cloak Order.
There was no need for Frok to vouch for her.
More importantly, the Frok species were pleasure-seekers who couldn’t control their own desires and interests.
So, leaving him to his whims was the best course of action.
She figured he must have taken an interest in that red-haired soldier.
“Fine, then.”
With that, Aisia turned away.
And by sheer coincidence, Benzense, who had assigned himself as the night watch, had witnessed everything.
Feeling bothered by the disgraceful events of the banquet night, he had come out to speak with Encrid during morning training—only to see it all unfold.
None of them paid him any attention.
After all, the fact that Encrid could never walk the path of a knight wasn’t anything significant.
There were countless people in the world who shared the same fate.
“I’ll be staying here for a few days.”
Frok told Marcus.
Marcus simply nodded.
Leaving the unconscious Encrid behind, the morning meeting came to an end.
(T/N: Damn, I thought Encrid would be recognized this time.)
