Chapter 227
‘How did I get here?’
The rapier knight was used to teaching.
If teaching came naturally, then his eye for talent was not just familiar but truly skilled.
Frok’s ability to assess talent was thanks to his race’s unique trait, but the rapier knight’s perception belonged to an entirely different class.
It was the blend of personal talent and accumulated experience.
From what he could see, there was clear improvement.
It was hard to believe Encrid didn’t have a [Will].
Occasionally, with a flash in his eyes, those continuous sword strikes would cut off his own retreat.
‘That’s the orthodox style.’
He mixed in the heavy sword as well. He was heading toward a truly complete form.
His opponent had exceeded expectations.
He hadn’t expected anything at all, to begin with.
Such was the level of his talent and skill.
To be clear, this was the first time his judgment had been so wrong.
That tugged at the rapier knight’s heart. It moved him.
‘Instruction, sparring.’
That’s what he’d had in mind from the start.
He’d walked the path of the knight but turned away when his talent couldn’t keep up.
Still, he’d never lost to someone without a [Will]. Even now, that hadn’t changed.
‘He’s improved.’
It was quite surprising, and he really was skilled. But, the black-haired man before him still couldn’t take on a real Junior Knight.
That was his assessment.
Clangclangclangclangclang!
Sword and sword collided in a shower of sparks.
Between the endless flurries, blue eyes narrowed.
‘His footwork too.’
It was no joke. He’d gone beyond human limits. That much was clear.
If he was facing lazy opponents with average talent?
The man before him would win.
So what about getting beaten by Swallow Blade?
He’d seen that fight, and now, having faced Encrid himself, he knew.
‘If the goal is to kill, if the aim is to fight for real and not just spar—’
Swallow Blade fought to kill.
Yet, the difference between them was only a sliver. In the rapier knight’s view, it was just a matter of who took the first step. Swallow Blade hadn’t even realized it.
Hadn’t Encrid improved remarkably?
It was worth being surprised again and again.
That’s why.
It was the words “give up” that bothered him, making him pick up his sword like this.
He started slow, evenly.
He wouldn’t need to go all out from the beginning.
Still, he fought fast and strong, mixing in flowing swordplay. Softness in speed. Striking as he flowed, flowing as he struck.
It was to show there were sword styles like this in the world.
And he started a battle of wits.
To recommend only focusing on one style was the wrong teaching.
It was fine to have a specialty, but one should learn all five styles—even just the basics.
Why?
Because only by knowing them can you block, evade, and do anything.
That’s why.
In that regard, the rapier knight forced diversity of swordplay. He showed that battles of wits weren’t always fought with the orthodox style.
For example—
‘Deflect.’
When he tried to let the sword flow, Encrid’s eyes lit up. It was a setup.
Encrid brought down a vertical strike, the kind that could cut through anything. It was like a thunderbolt.
The rapier knight moved to block but twisted his body to the side at the last moment.
Flowing style, letting the attack slip away without touching.
The blade that was like lightning split the air, missing by a hair’s breadth.
Whoosh! The sound of the sword slicing the air was clear.
Was it a high-level style or just a seasoned one?
After that, he raised his tip and lunged, and Encrid’s stance naturally broke.
The initiative from that point belonged to the rapier knight.
He pressed forward steadily, gradually—a frog-in-a-pot technique.
You kill a frog with boiling water by starting in cold water and slowly heating it.
The foundation of this style was pressure.
A message delivered by the sword.
‘You won’t get past this. This is your limit.’
He pressed and pressed until Encrid was trapped and forced to stop.
With the [Heart of Monstrous Strength], [Perception of Evasion], and all his learned sword techniques, Encrid hit a wall he could not surpass.
So did he despair?
There was no time for that—and even if there was, Encrid wasn’t the type. He simply kept swinging his sword.
But the rapier knight found this unsatisfying.
The spar had gone nothing like he’d hoped.
In the end, he didn’t see any flashes of brilliance from his opponent.
‘Wasn’t he a hidden genius I’d overlooked?’
If not, how could he have grown so much?
But why was there no spark, no glimmer of talent? Why was his brilliance so dull?
He’d expected the frog to jump out of the pot, at least to see it stretch a leg, but instead, it was just slowly drying out.
“Let’s stop here.”
“Huff, huff, that was good teaching.”
Encrid gave his thanks.
It was a spar worth bowing for. This guy didn’t go for his throat or care about fame—he just appeared and taught.
“I’ll go next today.”
The half-blood giant stepped up with sword and shield.
This spar didn’t put too much strain on the body. All Encrid needed was a breather. He nodded.
Their fight was similar to before.
The intensity and ferocity of it made onlookers dizzy.
If the battle with Swallow Blade felt like you could be pierced or cut at any moment—
Fighting the half-blood giant felt like any part of you could be crushed or smashed at any time.
Encrid endured.
The injuries were about the same as the first day.
This time, the half-blood giant grabbed the tip of her sword and swung it like a club, mixing in feints by shaking her shield up and down.
Encrid responded with a mix of heavy and orthodox styles, driving his opponent back.
He seemed to be putting to use what he’d learned from the rapier knight a moment ago.
Of course, the rapier knight watching was dissatisfied.
‘No improvement.’
A genius would show growth even after just one spar.
But Encrid, at best, was just ordinary.
That was bothersome.
The knight’s gaze naturally hardened.
“All right, that’s enough for today. If you’re bored, go take a request to hunt nearby monsters. The rewards are good, and it’ll clear your head.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
At Krys’s words, Swallow Blade perked up.
His hands were itching for action.
Most of all, the two opponents he’d seen today looked anything but easy.
One was his polar opposite, and the other seemed to be hiding her true skills.
‘What a bunch of bastards.’
Still, he couldn’t just run away now. If he did, the execution squad from the Black Blade Bandits might come after him.
Hadn’t they used the bandit’s Krong recklessly all this time?
Now was the time to put his life on the line.
Besides, his murderous urges had his blood boiling. If he ran now, he wouldn’t be able to swing his sword as he pleased for a while.
‘Ah, I want to kill someone.’
He longed for the feeling of slicing through soft flesh.
But he couldn’t just kill some vagrant in the city and get mobbed to death—he couldn’t just kill anyone.
If he tried anything, the people nearby would jump him foaming at the mouth.
Every one of them had sharp eyes and exceptional skills.
‘I really got caught up in something nasty.’
He hadn’t thought it would be easy, but now things were tangled beyond repair.
‘Might as well cut down some monsters.’
That was the rational choice.
Krys nodded and spoke to the soldier who had joined him.
“Yes, this way.”
The soldier guided Swallow Blade, ending today’s sparring.
Encrid had to be half-carried away. His thigh muscles were trembling so much he couldn’t walk.
“This’ll heal with a bit of rest.”
Encrid said.
“Yeah, right.”
“It’ll heal, sure, but if you keep repeating it, you’ll end up crippled, brother. It’s good to have faith, but don’t get cocky.”
Audin quoted the scriptures. Trusting your body was good, but don’t overdo it—that’s what he meant.
“Yeah, I know.”
Encrid nodded. Of course, not even a dog would believe it.
“When we get back, let’s do some simple hand-blade sparring.”
Ragna spoke.
“With sharpened senses, it’s easier to anticipate your opponent.”
Jaxson added from the side.
Everyone seemed to have something to say.
To be exact, it seemed they didn’t like seeing Encrid take a beating.
Was it different when someone else did the beating?
Encrid didn’t care.
What did it matter?
There was still a mountain of things to do.
He’d learned and practiced, but he still couldn’t get it right in one try. That couldn’t be helped.
So, he’d just take it one step at a time again.
At least he’d made some progress—whatever talent he had now stuck with his body, so he no longer stagnated like before, and that alone was a big improvement.
With those thoughts, Encrid went back to the inn and continued hand-blade sparring with Ragna.
“Fighting in that condition, really.”
Finn clicked her tongue watching them.
Lately, Finn seemed busy too. She’d been whispering with the Elf Commander a lot and going out at dawn.
“Where have you been going lately?”
Rem, bored, asked. Finn replied offhandedly while packing her things, not even looking up.
“They say night dew is good for your skin.”
“…I feel like she’s making fun of me.”
Rem muttered. Encrid inwardly agreed but took Finn’s side.
“You’re being paranoid. You have a habit of taking things the wrong way.”
It wasn’t revenge or anything. It definitely wasn’t because Finn kept saying his brain was broken.
“Huh?”
Rem frowned, and Ragna shoved Dunbakel forward.
“Go on, do your thing.”
What was her thing?
“Huh?”
Pushed along, Dunbakel was sent to Rem.
“Right, training. Haven’t done it much lately, huh?”
Reducing her daily beatings from twice to once had only lasted two days.
But really, what was this about slacking?
When Dunbakel glared, Rem looked pleased.
“Yeah, that glare, that fierceness! Good. Today, let’s—train—hard!”
Dunbakel wanted to cry, but her pride kept her from shedding tears.
So, the two of them left.
Encrid continued practicing sparring.
He kept at it until he recovered, then grabbed whoever was staying at the inn for another round.
Swallow Blade was a master of sharp strikes and unpredictable, unorthodox attacks.
There was something to learn from him too.
The half-blood giant swung her sword and shield with heavy, overwhelming force.
It was a blend of heavy sword style and shield technique.
Though the orthodox style was mixed in, the more you pushed, the more her heavy sword and shield skills came out.
The shield charge she’d used at the beginning was still as threatening as ever.
Show any opening and she’d bulldoze forward with monster-like stamina.
In terms of stamina alone, Encrid wasn’t lacking, but her size was a weapon all on its own.
The rapier knight was always the same.
He repeated the same thing every time.
Edin Molsen kept charging in without pause, but he was no match. After being knocked out hard in the third spar, he didn’t rush in as quickly anymore.
Instead, his escort stepped forward.
“Name?”
“No need to know.”
A curt, prickly man.
Encrid didn’t care. He didn’t know or care why this guy was only stepping up now.
He was just glad to have another good opponent to spar with.
So he smiled.
“You’re definitely not normal.”
The escort said. Encrid acted like he didn’t hear.
His opponent’s swordplay was based on flowing techniques. Letting attacks slip by, looking for an opening to thrust.
Encrid was familiar with it. He’d seen it before. It wasn’t his imagination.
He remembered everything by repeating and reflecting countless times.
‘This—’
It was a technique used by someone from Azpen.
Specifically, the man he’d cut down with his left hand—a name he could never forget.
That man’s name: Mitch Hurrier. The Hurrier family was the symbol of Azpen’s military might.
So, was this opponent a spy?
He didn’t care.
As long as they were a good match, that was enough.
So they matched up.
They fought and clashed. Their skills were evenly matched; it wouldn’t be easy to win. Encrid didn’t put too much weight on victory.
“If you were really trying to kill, you’d have killed a hundred times over by now.”
Rem didn’t think Encrid was just a guy with straightforward swordsmanship, so he teased him.
“What’s the point of killing?”
This wasn’t a battlefield.
They were just people who’d come to test their skills.
When it came time to speak through swordsmanship, that was all he wanted to do.
“There he goes smiling again. Do you really find this fun?”
Swallow Blade often smiled. His grin deepened and his tone grew sharper.
He’d often laugh while picking at Encrid’s own smile.
And in that state, he kept clashing with Encrid.
At some point, Encrid was all Swallow Blade could think about.
He’d been filled only with the urge to kill his opponent, but now, something else had slipped in.
There was only one person left in his mind.
All of his murderous intent converged on Encrid. Even for Swallow Blade, this was a first.
The half-blood giant felt something similar. But for her, it wasn’t killing intent, it was something else.
‘Why does he keep challenging me?’
She had the upper hand. That much was certain. If Encrid had fought to kill, sure, he could take out someone like Swallow Blade.
But the rest were impossible.
Truthfully, Swallow Blade must also have a hidden trump card, so if it were a fight to the death, the odds were fifty-fifty.
That was her judgment.
Was there really anything to gain from these spars?
So why did he look so happy?
“All right, it’s you today.”
Why was he so glad even after being beaten so badly?
With a gentle smile, he raised his sword. The emotion on his face was unmistakable.
So clear, even she could see it—though she wasn’t good at reading feelings.
He looked like a child.
A child overjoyed by a wonderful moment.
So happy, it was as if he were at a birthday party—pure, innocent joy.
She’d heard he wasn’t that young.
So why did he wear that expression?
“Let’s begin.”
How could he speak so brightly?
She couldn’t understand it. But one thing was certain: everything about him made her blood boil.
It was fighting spirit, competitiveness. The giant’s blood inside her was heating up.
In this moment, she was no longer a cultist but a warrior. For the first time, she wanted to be a warrior, not a devotee.
A crack had formed in something that had been instilled in her through indoctrination since childhood.
Beyond the teachings and commands of the cult, she was discovering and realizing what it meant to have desire.
All those feelings that had built up in her chest, never shown on the outside so that not even the bishop or anyone else would know—they tangled together now.
“You really are a strange one.”
The half-blood giant finally spoke.
Her words were clumsy, but her meaning was clear.
“I told you from the start, something’s broken up here.”
Behind Encrid, the gray-haired subordinate spun a finger around his temple.
She’d ignored that behavior at first, but now she understood.
“Yeah, you’re broken.”
The half-blood giant said. And she was too.
Encrid extended his sword, as if he didn’t care.
“Let’s fight.”
He simply craved combat. He showed his hunger for it. He enjoyed the moment.
A hint of a smile crept onto the half-blood giant’s lips, too.
To enjoy fighting itself—this was a first for her.
Everything felt new. She found meaning in a pointless clash of swords.
She couldn’t help but smile, too.
Like that, countless indiscriminate spars continued.
Each person faced the other more than a dozen times.
Sometimes, Encrid was gravely injured.
Sometimes, it ended with only minor wounds.
After all those repeated matches, the rapier knight shook his head.
“No, it’s still not right. This is the limit. Still, maybe I was wrong. I’ll have to test it. Can he overcome it? That’s all I want to know.”
Muttering to himself, the rapier knight faced Encrid.
The moment you wondered what he meant, countless blades sprang from the rapier knight’s body.
Encrid had experienced this before.
From Aisia, a member of the Red Cloak Order.
[Will]—intangible blades forged of resolve—pressed down on Encrid from every side.
It was overwhelming pressure.
