Chapter 218

That he hadn’t even considered it meant he hadn’t expected it.

To add more, it also meant it wasn’t something he wanted.

‘Me, a battalion commander?’

Just dealing with Rem and the other unit members, or managing the beastkin Dunbakel, was honestly already a hassle.

More than that, he just wanted to swing his sword a few more times. A natural urge—no, a desire.

His fingers now seemed to barely graze a dream he had never reached before.

Anyone in his shoes would stretch and strain their fingers, trying to pull that dream closer with all they had.

It was one of those moments—when desire came before responsibility.

And yet he was being asked to oversee an entire city?

Maybe one day he’d welcome such a thing—but now was not that time.

Even searching for a reason felt ridiculous.

What would happen if he became a battalion commander?

He could already hear what Rem would say:

“Battaliooon? Then I’ll be a company commander. Hand over my company.”

Then he’d work those soldiers to the bone and give them honorable discharges.

They’d all be too busy running away.

Come to think of it, entrusting Dunbakel to Rem might’ve been a mistake.

Not that he planned to do anything about it now.

So the answer was already clear.

He didn’t want it—not right now.

“I’ll pass.”

The thoughts were long, but his decision was instant. It wasn’t hesitation—it was a response that came as soon as he was asked.

“Thought so.”

Markus nodded as if it were obvious. He didn’t seem disappointed, but he added,

“Let’s just say I’ve asked twice more and that this makes three. If you change your mind, say the word.”

“Understood.”

Encrid answered again without much thought.

“Now then, give me your reason. I deserve at least that much.”

Markus laced his fingers and rested his chin on them. It seemed to be a habit—he often struck that pose.

Though he didn’t seem all that curious, Encrid still answered. It was proper to respond when asked.

Especially by a superior.

Standing upright at the table, Encrid spoke.

“The 1st Company Commander wouldn’t accept it.”

He was referring to internal opposition.

The 1st Company Commander had always been the closest candidate for battalion command. Now that the Border Guards had taken over Martai, the position should rightfully go to him.

Even if they forced it through, having a resentful subordinate right under him wouldn’t end well.

“You’ve got political awareness too, I see.”

Markus kept his chin resting on his hands and nodded. But perhaps it wasn’t enough, as he asked again.

“Any other reasons?”

“I don’t need the battalion commander position.”

“…That’s a rare answer. And it doesn’t even sound like an excuse or a lie.”

Markus relaxed his posture, leaning back in his chair. Now he looked genuinely intrigued.

Encrid knew there were snakes coiled inside this man’s heart.

But that didn’t matter. He could keep talking just fine.

Saying he didn’t need it—he meant it literally.

To become a knight, what he needed was strength. Martial prowess came first. The qualities of a commander could come later.

Of course, if those qualities ever became necessary, he would learn them—ingrain them into his body as he always had, through effort, through battles fought with his life on the line.

But right now, there was no need.

It wasn’t that he lacked strength—but rather, that he thirsted for more.

Zimmer’s thrust had reignited it, as did everything leading up to it. There were countless new things to learn and internalize.

Even from Markus’s strategy, he had realized something. His path was still long.

And he wanted to walk it.

It was the path to that faded dream. That’s why he wanted to put responsibility off for now.

That was his true reason.

Even Encrid had only just come to understand it himself. Through a few spoken words, he was able to reflect on where he stood.

You never really understood yourself until you examined your own heart.

“I’m still lacking in swordsmanship.”

Encrid answered.

“If that counts as lacking, then half the army ought to go die.”

Markus followed up dryly, then clapped his hands once.

“Well, if someone says they don’t want a pocket full of krong, it’s hard to force it into their hands.”

He muttered that, then instead of telling Encrid to leave, he shifted the topic to the recent developments in the region.

To which Encrid responded as if it were obvious.

“Seems like the situation will keep getting worse, doesn’t it?”

He spoke on instinct—but it was indeed already unfolding.

It hadn’t become visible yet because only a few days had passed since the battle.

Especially since the battle had ended so suddenly and decisively.

It had been expected to turn into a drawn-out siege—but strategy had shattered that expectation.

First by hiding Encrid, then by opening Martai’s gates.

Because of that, the enemy and their commanders had lost morale and surrendered instantly.

If they had fought openly from the start, the bloodshed would’ve been far worse.

In any case, Markus also knew the regional tension was rising.

As power and influence grew, so did the number of problems.

And with things as they were, help from the central government couldn’t be expected.

The battlefield had shifted. The Border Guards had absorbed the Frontier Garrison—a clear weakening of allied forces.

On top of that, they had already provoked the Cursed Sword, and swallowing Martai had put them in a threatening position among local nobles.

Encrid himself had even executed members of the Cult of the Demon Realm.

“That’s why I offered you the position.”

“What difference would it make if I took it?”

Was that a real question?

“A commander who’s absurdly strong leaves an impression.”

That had nothing to do with leading a whole city, though?

“And honestly, let’s be real—the 1st Company Commander wouldn’t even complain.”

Markus added.

You only rebel when you think you have a chance. Against a monster like this? No way.

Even if he felt dissatisfied inside, he had every reason to nod on the outside.

That’s what Markus thought—but Encrid didn’t agree.

Humans were most disturbed when something they believed was rightfully theirs—or already within reach—was taken from them.

Each had different thoughts, but it wasn’t something that would cause problems.

Encrid had no intention of accepting, and Markus didn’t truly intend to give it either.

Markus, deep down, thought it would be far more entertaining to give Encrid an even greater position someday.

Besides, if Encrid became a knight, territory would come on its own.

‘When did I start believing this guy would become a knight?’

Despite his inner thoughts, Markus spoke aloud with a prepared line.

“Then at least take charge as the training company commander.”

From this point on, it was Markus acting unilaterally. With the frontier garrison withdrawn, simply expanding the Madman Company wasn’t a viable solution.

Not that he wouldn’t try.

“Don’t get your hopes up too much.”

Wasn’t that what the elf company commander said?

Something about Rem being an expert at grinding people down?

And that nine out of ten new recruits would probably desert?

That’s why Markus came up with his next plan.

‘Give him a role, status, and purpose—something to do.’

This guy already enjoyed training. If it involved teaching, then it suited him perfectly.

And so the role of Training Company Commander was born.

“Yes, understood.”

Encrid accepted it easily. It caught Markus a little off guard, but Encrid had similar thoughts.

What was the best way to ensure the city’s safety?

Raise the overall quality of the troops. And how?

‘Drill them.’

He wouldn’t demand they match him, but if training times were increased and some mandatory effort applied, their skills would improve.

He was living proof of that.

To the regular troops under any commander, this would be terrifying news.

But only Markus and Encrid were in the room.

“Then.”

“Right.”

Encrid saluted and withdrew. The title of training company commander was fine, but first came the victory celebration.

That would be where his contributions to the battle would be officially recognized.

Everything else could wait until after.

Until then, Encrid planned to sharpen what he had seen and learned anew.

As always, time was more precious than gold.

Especially now, when he hadn’t even encountered a wall to overcome.

‘Is the Ferryman just being lazy?’

If the Ferryman had heard that, even a bitter laugh wouldn’t come.

And so, two days later, the victory celebration was held.

“Behold! A glorious battle! The fall of Martai marks the rise of a new star, a hero is born!”

With this battle, the name Encrid spread quickly, reaching beyond just the city.

Perhaps it helped that he shouted his name in the heat of battle.

Who knew?

Maybe it had an effect. Maybe it didn’t. Some things were impossible to tell.

While everyone drank, feasted, laughed, and shouted with joy—Encrid’s mind was elsewhere.

‘Experience.’

Digesting past experience was important, but he felt that alone would lead to stagnation.

He had started to desire something beyond what he already had.

Did that mean he needed to go on a journey? Leave this place?

To gain new patterns, new experiences?

Something about Markus’s strategy stirred his thoughts again.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Rem asked from beside him, holding a pumpkin pie in one hand and distilled liquor in the other. The sharp aroma of alcohol stung the nose—nearly pure spirits.

Rem was clearly enjoying himself, soaking his stomach in booze.

Encrid sat in a chair near a market stall.

It was a full-blown daytime drinking fest.

All around, soldiers and citizens—young and old—kept glancing his way.

He was the hero of the recent battle, after all.

Of course, Rem and the rest of the Madman Company were getting plenty of attention too.

But they’d never cared much for what others thought.

Somewhere along the way, Jaxson had disappeared again.

Probably slipped off to the red-light district.

“I was just thinking—how many strong fighters could I meet if I wandered the continent?”

It was an honest answer.

Rem snorted a laugh.

“I’ve wandered a bit myself, and let me tell you—it’s not that easy. You follow rumors to find some so-called master, and half the time they’re just all talk.”

“That’s true.”

Ragna, who had shown up on the other side without notice, agreed.

His cheeks were red from a few drinks, but he didn’t look drunk. He probably hadn’t had much.

He wasn’t much of a drinker to begin with.

Still, from their words alone, it was clear both had wandered the continent before.

“Is that so?”

Encrid asked again, feeling a strange thirst stir inside him.

What was this thirst?

A desire to fight more? No, it wasn’t that simple.

A craving to hone his swordsmanship? That didn’t feel quite right either.

Was it some compulsion caused by being unable to repeat today? Was he just waiting for death through repetition?

To Encrid, things like the day’s repetition, the wall, and the Ferryman were separate matters.

He joked about blaming the Ferryman, but in truth, whether the day repeated or not didn’t matter.

It was because he kept moving forward that he stood where he was now.

And the repetition of today—he merely used it as a tool to help him walk that path.

Even that had simply become ingrained through overlapping coincidences.

So this thirst… was something else entirely.

Something completely different.

It had begun ever since he grasped the form of the Formed Sword Technique. It was nothing more than a desire to cross blades with strong opponents scattered across the continent—pure fighting spirit.

Boiling combativeness, even.

‘Fight, experience.’

That was the path to fully weaving together his dream.

Until now, he had always been dragged along whenever he learned something new—but not this time.

After seeing Markus’s strategy, Encrid pinpointed what he lacked. He was building a tower of new experiences by layering it over past ones. A milestone he realized and set for himself.

“Shall I go gather up some names? Anyone with a reputation for fighting well?”

It was the bald Gilpin. No one knew when he’d even shown up.

He seemed quite drunk too, but his posture was still proper. He wasn’t the type to make sloppy mistakes.

Encrid thought about what Gilpin said.

If he received that list… would that mean it was time to leave? Abandon the city?

It was something worth considering.

Krys, who had been quietly watching, suddenly asked,

“But Commander, there’s an easier way. Why try to become some wandering adventurer chasing ‘challenge’?”

“What are you saying, bug-eyes?”

Rem asked, sipping his drink. And our wide-eyed soldier proved, as expected, that his brain was just as solid as his oversized eyes.

“With your name now known far and wide thanks to this battle, and with allies in both Martai and the frontier towns to speak on our behalf, it’s easy. You don’t go to them—you make them come to you.”

Krys’s words were spot-on. Like a flash of insight, they hit hard.

Would the desire to test oneself exist only in Encrid?

Anyone who fancied themselves strong would—

“That makes sense, Brother Bug-Eyes.”

Audin agreed, and Dunbakel nodded beside him.

“There are plenty of mercenaries who wander just to hone their blades.”

Dunbakel’s comment was right on the mark.

“And what about soldiers discharged after the war? They’ll come pouring in. If you keep beating them, word will spread—and if you want, you can fight until you drop dead. Well, if this place becomes a real warzone, that might drive them away.”

“Krys, you take care of it.”

Encrid was impressed. And so, he rewarded him accordingly—with a pouch of krong he’d set aside to buy new armor.

“Ah.”

Krys snatched the pouch with the speed of deflecting a flying dagger.

“Thank you!”

He grinned wide, and Encrid was more than satisfied.

“Spread the word well.”

“Yes, leave it to me!”

This was a deal that satisfied everyone.

Rem chuckled. Not a bad victory party after all.

As time passed, a few soldiers approached, asking to join the Madman Company.

“I want to go mad too!”

“Make me a madman!”

“I was born crazy!”

Why every transfer request sounded like that, no one knew.

Rem, now half-drunk, happily said he’d take them all.

Then he looked at Encrid, gauging his reaction before saying,

“It’s way too few for a company anyway.”

Which was true.

Once the liquor wore off, if they didn’t change their minds, they’d all be joining the Madman Company.

Not exactly a test—but if they were serious, their skills would be assessed.

Elsewhere, rumors of glory and the birth of a hero spread like wildfire.

One thing was certain—Encrid was the star of the party.

“Don’t you want to eat marmalade for the rest of your life? All free, of course.”

In between, a few local merchants and alluring women offered their temptations.

“Nooo!”

A city youth nearby screamed in despair.

Even without his cry, Encrid had no intention of getting involved with that marmalade lady.

Especially not after seeing a man’s world collapse before his eyes.

“I’ll just buy it at full price.”

“Tch.”

Some women were bold. Others flirted more subtly. But just as things were heating up, someone arrived who would end—and complicate—it all.

“The Count is here!”

The steward’s voice rang out across the party.