Chapter 225
“Line up!”
Krys was just as delighted by the situation as Encrid, shouting as soon as Encrid arrived, without a hint of fear.
Even so, everyone’s eyes stayed locked on Encrid.
Those eyes seemed to be full of questions.
Encrid reflexively met each of their gazes one by one.
The giant-blooded woman’s eyes said, ‘Keep your promise for another fight.’
Swallow Blade struck a provocative pose, shrugging and giving a mocking smirk, acting as if Encrid was nothing.
It was a crude attempt at provocation.
“I’m here to settle my previous debt,” said Count Molsen’s son in a commanding tone, acting as if it was only natural he’d go first.
Lastly, the rapier-wielding swordsman from the Lokfreed job stared at Encrid in shock, looking him up and down.
He didn’t try to hide his astonishment. He didn’t even try to hide it—in fact, he blurted out,
“No way. You’ve really improved. I thought you wouldn’t make it, even if you died and came back dozens of times.”
He was right.
Encrid had risked his life hundreds of times to get here.
It wasn’t just “coming back from the brink”—he’d literally died hundreds of times to reach this point.
Of course, no one else could know that.
Encrid was left to ponder.
Who should I fight first?
“Line up, you say. So, you fought that woman yesterday? Lucky you’re still alive.”
That was Swallow Blade, with his unpleasant grin. Everything about him was off-putting.
But that wasn’t the important part.
His posture, his arms hanging loosely, everything about him screamed real skill.
He stood where he could see everyone at once, with his hand always close to his sword—ready to draw at any time.
Encrid found it oddly fascinating that he could now recognize all this.
‘Ponder.’
Think, and think again.
That was the theme, the lesson Audin had drilled into him.
“I don’t care who it is,” Encrid answered after making up his mind.
“…You’re saying you can beat anyone?”
What was his name again? He’d just heard it, but had already forgotten.
“Sorry, what was your name again? The count’s son?”
Encrid asked, and Edin Molsen’s face flushed red.
A true provocation had to be sincere.
This was nothing like Swallow Blade’s amateurish attempt—it was genuine, because Encrid had truly forgotten.
He’d been too busy marveling at the harvest.
“What?”
Edin went from baffled to furious, completely ignoring the other onlookers.
“I’ll teach you some manners.”
Edin stepped forward.
“Hey, I said line up!”
Krys, apparently having left his sense of self-preservation back at the inn, spoke up again. Edin’s fury now turned toward the wide-eyed company member.
“If you want to die, feel free to butt in again, soldier.”
At Edin’s arrogance, Krys shrugged.
“It’s just, you’re blocking the road here. Trade wagons and people need to get through.”
“Fine, I’ll kill you.”
Edin turned on Krys, hand going to his sword. Just as the blade rasped from its sheath—
“Rem! Rem! Captain! Captain!”
Krys darted back, hiding behind Rem. Edin’s sword froze.
“…Why are you so irritating sometimes?” Rem muttered as he stepped forward, his two hand-axes swinging at his belt. With a lazy posture, Rem spoke again,
“He’s got a point—let’s take this elsewhere.”
He looked around, addressing everyone.
Then, suddenly realizing—
‘That crazy captain…’
It was because of Encrid. Why was he so happy? Well, the reason was clear enough, but wasn’t this a bit much?
“Up against all three of us?” the rapier swordsman asked.
That’s what it looked like.
Encrid was sizing up the giant-blooded warrior, the rapier swordsman, and Swallow Blade all at once.
As if he intended to take on all three at the same time.
‘He’s going to get himself killed one of these days.’
Maybe Rem didn’t know, but Encrid had already died more times than he could count.
“It’s greed, brother,” Audin said from behind, taking the edge off the dangerous mood swirling around Encrid.
“Whatever happens, this isn’t something that should harm the city,” the rapier swordsman said, stepping back.
“I’m fine either way,” Swallow Blade also stepped back, and the giant-blooded warrior silently withdrew as well.
“…I cleaned up the space behind the inn,” said Allen, the innkeeper. Merchant’s instincts—he figured they’d all be staying in town.
None of them seemed short on Krong, either.
There was an air of ease about them.
Lately, with Vanessa’s pumpkin soup and herb pie growing popular, Allen was losing guests to her inn. He decided to compete not with food, but with space—so he’d built a pretty good training yard behind his inn.
“Sounds good.”
Encrid nodded.
Allen led everyone around to the back, and as they moved, Rem came up beside Encrid.
“Trying to get yourself killed? You should rest if you’ve taken a blow to the head.”
“You’re the last person I want to hear that from.”
Krys, overhearing, chimed in,
“Well, captain?”
He wanted to know if his little ploy worked.
Encrid couldn’t help but admit it.
Plant a seed and direct the water, and you get a bumper crop.
“You can have this month’s share.”
He was talking about the Gilpin Guild dues. For Krys, that was about the most important thing in life.
“Gladly.”
As they walked, Edin, who’d been left behind, finally exploded in rage.
“You bastards! How dare you treat a noble of the kingdom this way!”
If he’d been a dragon, he’d be breathing fire by now.
Oh, right, I almost forgot.
After making up his mind, Encrid spoke.
“I’ll go with the count’s son first, so why don’t you all step back?”
A noble’s son, and the so-called “King of the North,” son of Count Molsen. He deserved that much courtesy.
“You brat, fine, I’ll strip that arrogance from you.”
With Edin in the lead, his younger companion, and the last figure trailing behind, the three of them swept past Encrid’s group.
Whatever happened, Encrid was satisfied right now.
Everyone quietly headed to the training yard behind the inn. The place had once been a storage building, now completely demolished and paved with blue stone. A few chairs were set out at the back. It had been purposely set up as a proper arena.
“The count’s son goes first. Everyone else, please wait your turn!”
Like a circus barker, Krys shouted to liven things up.
Encrid expected complaints, but there were none. Everyone just watched in silence.
Some eyes brimmed with curiosity, others with arrogance.
Encrid stood face-to-face with Edin.
Edin raised his sword and pointed it at Encrid. “Come at me first!”
Encrid did as told.
He strode in, closing the distance without even drawing his sword.
“Are you looking down on me?”
Edin bit out the words and brought his sword down hard.
Encrid kept walking.
Why?
He wanted to show the onlookers.
How far he’d come.
What his sword was.
Who they’d come to see.
Was it recklessness or grand spirit? If he pulled it off, it’d be boldness; if not, just empty bravado.
Confidence and arrogance are just a hair’s breadth apart.
Encrid showed confidence, not arrogance.
He watched the descending sword until the last moment, then drew his own blade with his left hand.
Ching!
With a single breath, he raised his sword, meeting Edin’s with the ricasso, close to the hilt—not the blade’s middle.
The closer to the hilt, the easier it was to transmit force.
Thunk.
Despite the force of the swing, the sound was dull.
He absorbed the blow by bending his knees and flowing with the impact.
From there, he bound their swords together.
Once the blades stuck, the rest was easy. He lunged forward with his left foot, twisted his hips, and thrust his right fist.
Crack!
It looked like defense and offense, but happened nearly simultaneously—almost a single movement.
“Ugh!”
Even with extra leather armor, Encrid’s fist was more than heavy—it was a weapon.
Even the giant-blooded warrior would be surprised by that strength.
All that strength training paid off—Edin spat something from his mouth with that single blow.
Edin Molsen, better now than when he stood by his father’s side, but—
‘Not enough.’
Lacking real combat experience and many other things. He’d hold up in a drawn-out swordfight, but was weak against unconventional tactics. That was Encrid’s judgment.
In a way, it was reckless.
Walk in unguarded, block an attack, and punch? If he’d made a mistake, Edin might have taken the advantage.
But in battle, nothing is more important than the result.
Encrid looked up from the fallen Edin.
“You just going to stand there and watch?”
He asked, looking directly at Edin’s escort.
The escort’s expression hardened. His gaze was sharp.
He clenched his teeth and shook his head.
He didn’t seem like the type to dodge a fight, but maybe it wasn’t time yet?
Didn’t matter. There were plenty more waiting for their turn.
—
The rapier swordsman was truly astonished.
‘Has he improved?’
There’s a difference between judging by stance and seeing an actual fight.
Encrid was skilled, bold, and knew how to enjoy battle.
He’d never imagined this guy would change so much.
‘He’s grown tremendously.’
How to even describe it?
It was as if a barren wasteland had, without him noticing, become a green field.
“Amazing,” he muttered without realizing.
He didn’t look like a genius, yet his skill grew at an unnatural pace.
“So many surprises,” the female warrior commented from beside him—she was a head taller than him.
“That’s because you didn’t know him before.”
“Only the present matters,” she replied, eyes shining. She was no ordinary person either.
The female warrior glanced at the rapier swordsman, a hint of curiosity in her look.
‘Just what are you?’
But that was all. Their interest in each other ended there.
No—there just wasn’t time for it.
Right now, both had someone more important to focus on.
For the first time in ages, the rapier swordsman felt a surge of curiosity.
He’d once been called the reincarnation of Frok.
He was weak to that kind of curiosity.
He wanted to fight, to test and size up his opponent.
But before he could, the female warrior stepped forward.
“My turn, right?”
But it wasn’t to be.
“Why don’t you spend a day with me, sister? Looks like that brother’s got itchy hands,” Audin said, and the one called Swallow Blade stepped up.
“Good eye, big one.”
He was right. Watching the fight had Swallow Blade’s blood running hot.
Some people just looked like they needed to be cut down.
“Tch, he’d be perfect to toy with. I’ll let you have him,” the female warrior said as Swallow Blade moved to the center.
She probably wasn’t talking to him. That gray-haired, sharp-eyed guy was oddly irritating.
The one who’d first claimed the captain’s head was broken.
He looked like someone you’d want to cut down.
With that, he faced Encrid.
“Pretty good with your fists, huh?”
“I think I’m even better with a sword.”
What a way to talk.
Swallow Blade wasn’t smiling anymore. He was the type whose true feelings never showed on the surface.
If his face was serious, it meant he was truly enjoying himself.
‘I’ll have to slice off one of his arms.’
Then, those eyes will change, right?
They were straight and upright—his eyes revealed his nature.
Swallow Blade was skilled at reading his opponent’s temperament.
And at changing it.
When such honest, upright eyes were forced to tremble with fear, he felt pleasure.
Just imagining it sent a thrill through him.
‘I want to cut him up as soon as possible.’
He would press in slowly, like preparing a dish. He genuinely hoped Encrid wouldn’t collapse after just a few scratches.
—
Their fight lasted quite a while. One subtle technique after another, each targeting the other.
In the end, Swallow Blade left sixteen sword marks on Encrid’s body.
One of them, a puncture in the stomach, would have been fatal if it had landed just a little to the side.
And yet—
“Damn, you’re something else.”
Encrid’s eyes never changed. Swallow Blade smiled.
Because, at this moment, he still wasn’t enjoying himself.
* * * * * * *
(T/N: Still not back to a regular upload schedule, but I’ll be uploading at least 5 chapters per series every week, in order based on the most recent series I picked up. No fixed days yet, but I’ll keep the bulk uploads coming as best as I can!)
