Chapter 224
As soon as they got back to the quarters, Jaxson brought out the ointment.
Finn applied it all over Encrid’s body, and Krys wrapped him in bandages.
“I thought you were done for,” Krys said, expertly wrapping the bandages.
“I was holding back, you know,” Encrid replied.
Krys let out a disbelieving laugh. “Didn’t you see her arms? They were thicker than yours, brother,” he said, glancing at Audin.
Meaning, how can you say you were holding back after seeing those arms?
“Arm thickness doesn’t prove skill,” Encrid said without a hint of expression. He didn’t even seem to feel the pain from his wounds.
Better not argue, better not.
Krys spoke with his eyes and took his hands away. Most of the serious wounds were taken care of.
“Well, um. Don’t be discouraged even if the result wasn’t great,” Finn chimed in. She still didn’t know Encrid well.
Anyone with ambition has a fierce desire to win. Normally, that’s how it would be.
Encrid wasn’t without a desire to win, either. From what Finn had seen, her company commander wasn’t the type to enjoy losing. That wasn’t wrong.
But today was different.
Losing wasn’t the issue.
Encrid had learned much from facing the giant-blooded female warrior.
There were things more important than losing.
Things more important than dying.
It was the satisfaction of fulfilling the burning longing inside him.
It was the joy of knowing he was walking toward tomorrow.
‘Again, tomorrow.’
And it wasn’t over. He hadn’t died.
They’d only parted with a promise for another day. At this moment, Encrid was happier about reflecting on the path he’d taken and looking toward the road ahead than about losing.
In short, he was just thrilled to be able to fight again tomorrow—and it showed on his face.
A smile, a grin escaped, and Finn, still crouched, stood up and mouthed, ‘Did he hit his head?’
No answer came.
Audin, who’d been watching, stepped forward.
He came up to Encrid—a bear-like monster, kneeling to meet his gaze.
Was he about to lay hands like a saint? Encrid, bandaged over one eye, stared at him.
“Is getting hit your hobby, brother?”
There was no way he had a taste for that. The answer was obvious.
The real point came next. Was this Audin’s way of scolding him? That’s how it felt.
“No one can dodge every attack. So, what should you do?”
Without waiting for an answer, Audin continued,
“If you stop here, just enjoying how your body moves, it’ll be hard to go further, brother.”
He tapped his temple with his finger.
Encrid didn’t grasp the meaning all at once, but he sensed there was something to learn in those words, so he didn’t reply and mulled them over.
When the religious man-mountain stepped away, the axe-wielding brute took over.
“No need to let yourself get pushed back by strength. Don’t just endure—try exploding with it.”
Again, Encrid didn’t fully understand at once. He simply mulled it over.
Then—
“It hurts less if you know you’re going to get hit,” Jaxson said.
“Are you having fun?” Ragna asked.
That last question was one Encrid could answer.
“Very much.”
Encrid spoke his heart honestly, and Ragna gave a small smile.
Encrid, bandaged over one eye and cheek, also smiled.
Ragna thought that smile alone could set a person’s heart ablaze.
How could it not?
Watching Encrid fight had rekindled his own drive.
It had been a long time since he’d felt like this.
He wanted to swing his sword.
Opponent or not—he just wanted to enjoy it: the sword, this moment, any moment.
He wanted to tell his captain the same thing.
Enjoy it.
Encrid answered he was already doing just that.
Ragna left the quarters and headed to the private training yard.
When he started swinging his sword, a few soldiers joined him.
Some even asked for a match on the spot.
“Would you spar with me?”
There were some who didn’t lose heart no matter how much they got beaten in training.
They’d gone unseen before, but now Ragna noticed them too.
People like that grow. They advance. They’ll learn more.
“Sure.”
He didn’t refuse. He gave it his all.
Ragna enjoyed today. It was rare—he was satisfied with a full, rewarding day.
—
Encrid just lay there, breathing.
Regeneration, the act of tempering and renewing the body, heals most wounds quickly.
What’s needed to boost the body’s healing power?
First, a well-trained body.
Even when still, an active body circulates blood quickly, which heals wounds.
That’s why muscle and strength boost recovery.
As strength grows, the heart gets stronger too.
That was something he’d learned from the Isolation Technique.
Next is proper nutrition.
The body gets needed energy from food.
Audin always said it—eat well to build muscle.
Eat well to make rest meaningful.
Encrid did just that. After returning to quarters, he ate well.
A meal of finely ground meat, shaped into patties and stir-fried with vegetables.
Meat and potatoes mixed with tough root vegetables.
Hearty and abundant—it was no longer a luxury.
“Order and eat whatever you want, and take whatever you need.”
That’s what Markus said after the war. He’d said it more elegantly, but the meaning was the same.
He ate well and rested well. No pressure.
And Esther was there.
The Lake Panther, who’d once called him a stupid human with her eyes, slipped into Encrid’s arms.
“Been a while, huh?”
Encrid scratched Esther’s head as she settled into his arms.
Esther didn’t resist.
Their relationship was more like friends or companions than anything romantic. That’s how Encrid treated her, and Esther, without saying a word, released her mana.
It wasn’t a healing spell, but the stimulus of mana always affected the body.
She did what she could.
That was why his body healed so quickly.
But Dunbakel, who didn’t know any of this, widened her eyes at Encrid’s speed of recovery.
“You’re getting up already?”
Rising in just a day with that kind of body?
It was only natural to be shocked.
She knew what it felt like to get beaten by Rem. It felt like your bones would break.
She didn’t think about running away, but pain and suffering were unavoidable.
Just because she was a beastkin didn’t mean she was used to pain or good at enduring it.
They were a race that fought based on natural athletic ability and reflexes.
She couldn’t be slow like a giant.
Dunbakel said this over and over, but naturally, Rem just snorted.
“Alright, today you’re getting hit twice as much.”
That was all he said.
“Isn’t this training? Not violence?”
Didn’t Rem always say that himself? That he didn’t hit people because he wanted to, but because it was necessary for training.
But sometimes it seemed like he forgot that and just let his true feelings show.
“Oh, right. Training. Let’s train. Twice as much.”
He shamelessly brushed it off. Of course, Dunbakel was in no position to protest.
Encrid twisted his body side to side as he answered,
“My ribs still feel a bit off. Did your skills improve in the meantime, former thief?”
Dunbakel didn’t like being called a former thief, but she couldn’t complain.
“A little.”
“Must be exciting.”
Exciting? What did that mean? Struggling just to survive was exciting?
She didn’t get it.
Encrid got up after just a single day.
‘My ribs are mostly back together.’
Not perfect, but he got restless just lying around.
That female warrior might leave at any time.
Encrid’s mind was now empty of where she’d come from.
He just wanted to fight again, so long as there was someone to face him.
That’s why people called him a madman, but Encrid didn’t care.
Or rather, he didn’t even have time to care.
There are those called geniuses.
Prodigies, gifted ones.
Those born with talent.
But to reach the place even geniuses struggle to touch, to rise that high, ordinary desperation wasn’t enough.
You had to be mad.
Fortunately, Encrid did all this without thinking about it.
Anyone who understood his mind, his circumstances, would be shocked.
But no one could read Encrid’s true thoughts now.
They could guess, but never know everything.
Encrid woke up after a good sleep, clear-headed. More precisely, he thought as he walked.
Whenever he hit a mental block, he worked it out on a walk—a habit since childhood.
As he walked to the market, one side of his head still tingling, the answer to a lingering question appeared.
It wasn’t a lightning-bolt revelation.
It was more like the gentle, encroaching tide.
Like a tide that, before you know it, is washing around your ankles.
‘Was I arrogant?’
What he’d learned from his company awakened something in his body. Because of that, he’d gained talents he never had. That’s how it felt.
Had that become poison for him?
Did he think he didn’t need to worry as much as before?
What Audin said was about returning to the basics. Think, and think again.
Encrid walked, pondering.
The female warrior’s attacks were fast, fierce, and precise. Not easy to avoid.
“If you know you’re going to get hit, it hurts less.”
That’s what Jaxson said. Be aware you’ll get hit.
‘Perceive it with your senses.’
If you try to track everything with your eyes, you’ll be too slow. Did he get too confident in his dynamic vision? Was it because his body had changed? Still not enough? If he stopped now, his dream of knighthood would vanish like a mirage.
It wasn’t a storm or tidal wave in his heart.
He just didn’t stop thinking.
‘Open all five senses, and even the Gate of the Sixth Sense.’
If he’d done that, he would have sensed the first shield charge in time.
So many weaklings had come at him that he’d trapped himself in a well of experience.
He broke out of it. It was nearly impossible for ordinary people, but Encrid was used to breaking his own limits.
Who in the world was more accustomed to smashing their limits than he was?
‘Explode it.’
The Heart of the Beast gave courage.
The Heart of Monstrous Strength increased power.
Should he use his heart to maintain courage?
No.
He’d half-realized already.
‘In each instant.’
Burst it, explosively, in bursts of strength.
He couldn’t sustain the Heart of Monstrous Strength for a whole fight yet, so this was right.
Break it down even more than before.
He didn’t think it impossible. Whether it worked or not, he’d try. All of this was just part of his natural train of thought.
‘Perceive it with the sixth sense.’
Explode the heart in the moment.
As he reflected and searched for ways to fight, he reached the market.
“It feels kind of tense here.”
“They all look tough.”
“I heard Vell almost broke his leg?”
He picked up bits of conversation in the murmuring crowd—something must have happened.
Encrid realized for the first time that he couldn’t see Rem or anyone else around today. They were all here, gathered at this spot.
“So this is where everyone went.”
As he walked along muttering, people recognized him and cleared a path.
“You’re here?”
A soldier greeted him.
“Already? Are you alright?”
A shoemaker asked.
“Have some jerky,” offered a woman running a small stall.
He made his way through the crowd. At the central intersection of the four inns that symbolized the Border Guards, the road was blocked. Several wagons had stopped.
It was the main route for trade caravans.
This couldn’t stay blocked like this.
He looked ahead to see why.
There she was—the woman from yesterday. Maybe thanks to a giant’s resilience, all the minor wounds had vanished.
She stood still, her sword stabbed vertically into the ground and her shield resting beside it, like a statue.
Several other faces were there as well.
“Uh, I’m the one they call Swallow Blade—anyone heard that nickname? I came because I wanted to face that so-called Veteran Who Ended the War.”
Thin eyebrows, a smile that curled upward—his face gave off an oddly unpleasant vibe. The smile didn’t seem genuine.
He had a single sword at his belt, a well-sized arming sword.
A thick leather belt caught the eye, and just from his stance, it was clear he wasn’t ordinary.
Even his forearms showed he was well-trained.
And it wasn’t just this Swallow Blade.
“Full of fools, I see! I am Edin Molsen, son of Count Molsen! I’m here to test my skills against Independent Company Commander Encrid!”
A blond man stepped up confidently. It was a familiar face—the former coachman, actually the count’s son.
Beside him was a younger boy with a similar look.
And behind them, a man with a long face.
‘Not bad.’
The one who seemed to be their escort looked quite skilled.
Edin Molsen, too, seemed even more impressive now than when standing beside the count.
That was Encrid’s impression.
Finally—
“So, is that friend too injured to come out?”
For a moment, Encrid didn’t recognize him without his mustache, but on second glance, the face was unmistakable.
A name popped into his mind: Leona Lokfreed.
‘That swordsman from back then?’
The man who’d seemed like a master of swift swordsmanship, the one who’d told him to give up on swords.
He’d been the guard on the opposite side of Leona during the Lokfreed trading company job.
“Everyone, wait a bit. If you don’t want to, come play with my axe. There was a big fight yesterday, but there’ll be another today. Our captain’s head’s a little messed up.”
In the center, Rem spun his finger near his ear and pointed at his own head.
‘That bastard.’
Encrid had no reason to hide. People around recognized him and cleared a path.
“They all came to see me?”
Hmm. How to put it—
The moment he saw everyone’s gaze fixed on him, Encrid understood a farmer’s heart.
It was a bumper year.
Every single one of them looked as formidable as the giant-blooded woman.
And every single one of them had come to see him.
