Chapter 258

“What, you think you’re the only one who’s busy?”

Staring blankly at the dwarf, Encrid blinked twice.

There was a disconnect between what he understood of the situation and what was actually happening.

Encrid first checked the state of his own body.

He felt starving, as if he hadn’t eaten in days, and his muscles trembled like they’d been overworked.

His vision was blurry.

The visual issue stemmed from fatigue.

And not just ordinary fatigue—it felt like he hadn’t slept or eaten and had climbed a mountain nonstop for days.

His body felt that heavy.

The extreme exhaustion made his whole body feel drained. He couldn’t even clench his fists properly.

His body, trained to swing a sword for two days without rest, shouldn’t have ended up like this.

“How long has it been?”

Encrid asked as he opened and closed his fist.

He could feel the full strain weighing on him.

“…You’re just as shameless as the pointy-eared one.”

The dwarf girl smirked in disbelief.

Encrid didn’t need to hear it from her.

He could see Rem and Ragna behind her.

Rem, who had been picking his ear, spoke first.

“A little over three days. So, was it fun?”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

This came from Ragna, who stood watching with arms crossed.

Both asked without pause. Encrid once again took stock of his condition.

So—what had happened?

The time that passed like a dream still lingered in his head.

Every moment, every step had been a revelation.

And at the end of those steps, Encrid had immersed and devoted himself.

He achieved his goal. Reached his destination.

‘Swordsmanship.’

He had created one.

He couldn’t name it yet or define it properly, but one thing was clear: he had invented a new [Fluid Sword Technique].

Sword masters, even those who were revered, typically only refined and passed down their own sword techniques late in life.

Even those with deep understanding—true masters—could only refine what they’d learned.

But Encrid had created something.

Thump.

His heart beat involuntarily. Despite the exhaustion, the joy of what he had created made his face curl into a euphoric smile.

“You’re smiling? Did you lose your mind a little?”

“I was already planning to go to the big temple in the territory for a check-up, dwarf girl.”

As the dwarf twirled a finger beside her ear, Rem remarked.

Encrid, overwhelmed with joy, didn’t respond to Rem’s words.

“Oh, he’s thrilled out of his mind.”

Rem smirked, but his words didn’t register either.

Watching Encrid, Ragna nodded silently.

“It went well.”

The dwarf girl was a wandering nomad of the continent. She had seen the world for over ten years.

Even for her, this was rare.

Talent and disposition aside, Encrid and his people were genuinely insane.

—

She had arrived the day before he awoke, but until then, they hadn’t let her anywhere near him.

When he finally stirred, she complained so much that they brought her to him.

“I told you, just leave the weapons and go.”

Even saying that, the dwarf shook her head.

“I have to see the faces of those who’ll wield the weapons I make. That’s a rule I set for myself.”

She had a strict principle: always deliver her weapons in person and speak directly to the recipient.

Dwarves often clung to self-imposed rules like obsessive rituals—this was one of them.

That’s why she stayed, whining about wasted time but refusing to leave.

In any case, her complaints quickly subsided.

“I see.”

Encrid, ignoring his fatigue, listened to the dwarf attentively.

The rest of the squad would either scoff, ignore, spout religious teachings, or not engage at all.

Krys was the only one close to a decent conversation partner, but even he was too busy to catch.

In contrast, Encrid’s willingness to listen melted the dwarf girl’s heart.

In terms of pure attentiveness, he was probably the best listener on the continent.

Her attitude softened quickly. She wasn’t petty to begin with.

“Well, at least you’ve gone mad in a graceful way.”

That was her conclusion as she handed over the weapons.

The order had been for two swords and two axes.

They were neatly laid out on wide leather.

Handing over one of them, she said:

“To be honest, smithing isn’t my specialty. I shine elsewhere. But still—this should be better than what those halfwits make.”

The nameless dwarf said, and Encrid agreed.

She handed over a weapon still sheathed in a leather scabbard.

She offered it with the hilt first, and he took it.

It had good heft.

The blade wasn’t long but was thick.

Just as thick as his current guard sword. Slightly longer than a shortsword.

It was a modified gladius.

When he unsheathed the sword, the blade slid out smoothly, revealing its form to the world.

Its silver body flowed in a soft, streamlined curve.

“Well-made.”

Rem, watching from the side, remarked.

And it was just that. If it were a woman, she’d be a beauty. A man, a handsome one.

Similar to the blades used by the Elf Commander, but also different.

It had weight. It looked solid.

“You’ve already got a decent one, so I figured this would make a fine backup.”

The dwarf gestured toward the sword at Encrid’s waist.

She had crafted it without being asked, but she was right.

The sword he already owned was indeed a fine blade. The dwarf had recognized it without even examining it.

So this was the insight of a dwarf.

His stray thoughts faded quickly.

Encrid, still standing in the training yard, swung the new sword a few times.

What pleased him most was the weight balance.

It felt perfectly centered about two finger-widths above the grip.

It seemed like it’d perform beautifully even if thrown as a [Tossed Sword].

“Built it to be tough—throw, slash, block, bash—use it however you want.”

The dwarf’s explanation matched his impression.

It felt good to slash. Felt good to throw. Fit perfectly in his hand.

The pointy tip and long upper edge made it ideal for thrusting too.

Encrid tossed it upward, spun it a few times, and caught it.

The balance was perfect.

He grabbed the hilt with a crisp motion and slashed through the air a few times.

His sword swings were noticeably smoother than before.

There was a new fluidity.

He had broken through and changed.

Of course, few noticed.

With the sword in hand, Encrid nodded.

A nod of satisfaction.

And the watching dwarf was quietly impressed.

‘Well, look at that.’

Someone had shaped and refined this lump of stone. He had changed. To see that kind of change in such a short time?

‘That’s no ordinary talent.’

She misunderstood. Understandably so. The truth was that countless efforts had accumulated, coinciding by chance to produce this moment.

To the dwarf, he was just a lump of raw talent.

“What about mine?”

When Rem nagged from behind, the dwarf threw both axes at once. Rem caught them both by the handles with precision.

Naturally, the axes were excellent.

Even Rem—the ill-tempered Rem—said,

“…Good thing I didn’t turn you into a taxidermy dwarf back then.”

If even he said that—

For some reason, that made the dwarf girl burst out laughing.

What was so funny?

It was enough to make one question her sanity.

Rem inspected both axes closely.

The fire axe had a spiked weight at the end, allowing it to be used like a blunt weapon with the handle.

The other was supposedly forged from melted-down metal entirely taken from the glaive of the centaur leader they had fought.

“Heavy. I like that.”

Rem’s honest opinion. Clearly, everyone was satisfied.

Finally, Ragna, who received his sword, spoke to the dwarf.

“Not bad.”

He had been given a northern-style zweihander.

A two-handed sword—twice as thick as the others, with a large pommel and grip.

“Finished it in northern style.”

The dwarf smiled.

She wasn’t a master or specialized smith, but perhaps it was just her race’s nature.

Seeing everyone pleased, she smiled contentedly.

“Alright, that’s a wrap. Let’s meet again sometime.”

She turned away cheerfully, then glanced at Krys. At some point, he had come out and was watching the exchange.

“Human kid.”

Visually, she looked like the kid, but the tone and nickname oddly fit.

“Yes?”

“I’ll think about it when you’re worth a gem.”

Krys nodded without understanding what she meant. He took it as a “see you later,” so he figured it was a good thing.

And so the dwarf left.

After she departed, all eyes turned to Encrid.

“Are you feeling okay now? Who the hell skips meals and just swings swords?”

Krys asked.

“As you can see.”

His muscles were still strained, but he wasn’t about to collapse. He was hungry, but not to the point of death.

Everyone knew Encrid had seized a breakthrough and grown.

But none brought it up.

The only ones who had said anything were Rem and Ragna, right after he came to.

Rumor had it that while he was completely immersed, unable to see or hear anything around him, the others took turns standing guard and fending off intruders.

Torres, whom he met later, even said,

“You were harder to see than the king.”

At any rate, after the dwarf left, Encrid slept for an entire day.

He woke, ate, then slept again.

What he thought was a brief nap had lasted three days, during which he swung his sword nonstop.

Sometimes fast and strong.

Other times, slow like a sea turtle.

But he never rested.

Of course, that pushed his muscles, but his body had been hardened through the [Isolation Technique].

After a day of good sleep, he was fine.

While he rested, ate, and slept, Encrid mentally sorted through what he had realized.

It wasn’t until late the next afternoon that he spoke.

“Rem.”

Rem was sitting in the corner of the lodge, polishing his axe. He’d been annoying Dunbakel out of boredom.

He was about ready for a distraction.

“I’ve been waiting, you know.”

So when Encrid called, he leapt to his feet.

The axes in his hands gleamed with oil.

It was time for a spar.

In terms of outcome, Encrid didn’t win.

In fact, he lost more easily than before.

“Again.”

He kept thrusting his sword toward the axe, trying the same technique repeatedly, but never quite succeeded.

A few attempts came close, but they weren’t satisfying.

He kept getting pushed back. But it didn’t matter. Winning or losing didn’t matter. What did was getting used to what he’d created.

“Sounds good.”

They had started before sunset, and kept going until they were soaked in sweat. They didn’t stop until after midnight.

A maid heating the bath complained, but fell silent after seeing Encrid’s body.

Something about the atmosphere made Zimmer ask Ragna for a spar after seeing him training every morning and evening.

Audin’s prayer time increased, and his expression grew gentler.

Dunbakel, watching Encrid, started mimicking the [Isolation Technique] on her own.

“There’s a method suited to your body. I’ll teach you a few.”

Audin offered help upon seeing her.

Of course, Audin saw it as helping, but Dunbakel looked like she was being tortured.

Teresa also sweated silently.

She swung her shield and sword, honing her own style.

Just Encrid being immersed had stimulated all of them again.

The wild horse spent its time watching people. Soldiers even left a haystack for it.

Most horses would relieve themselves anywhere, but this one smartly dug a hole with its hoof in the corner of the barracks.

Even that act impressed the stablemaster.

“Man… if only I could fit it with a saddle.”

So said the man in charge of Martai’s cavalry horses. After all, warhorses were the core of cavalry.

He had raised such steeds.

He was truly regretful—but dared not approach.

The beast exuded killing intent when approached recklessly.

Encrid watched the wild horse and thought,

‘Should I give it a name?’

Odd behavior? There were enough weird humans around. What’s one more strange horse?

At the Border Guard, there was even a mage who turned into a panther.

Encrid decided to hold off on the name.

The horse still seemed busy exploring everything around it.

Maybe everything was triggering its curiosity.

Even so, it never approached people.

Soldiers who looked into its blue and red eyes shivered for no reason.

It was the aura of a magical beast.

So passed the days of mad training and sparring.

On the third day after the dwarf’s departure, they too began to move.

It was when Krys, after endlessly exploring the market and meeting with the lord, said it was time to leave.

“Let’s go back.”

Time to return to their own territory.

Encrid took the lead, and the lord came to see them off.

“Good fortune to you.”

They departed at dawn, and by sunrise, the territory was no longer in sight.

Krys led the way.

They had left the horse behind and were traveling on foot.

Only the wild horse walked beside Encrid.

“Ah, it’s snowing.”

“Damn devil bastards are sprinkling again.”

As they walked, white flakes began to fall from above. The flakes landed on the ground and on their armor, then melted.

Thankfully, the wind wasn’t strong and the snow didn’t come in torrents. The fine white particles only slightly limited their visibility.

Snow fell silently and peacefully, not enough to cause discomfort.

As they entered a path flanked by two mounds, figures appeared ahead.

One of them was a familiar face.