Chapter 279

“Throw it.”

The moment Encrid spoke, Jaxson’s hand moved.

There was no time to bother with the sound of air being split.

A sly stray cat with reddish-brown hair, standing seven paces ahead, threw a stone. What had been a dot in the distance grew larger before his eyes.

As his focus heightened, he perceived the trajectory of the incoming stone.

Just as he twisted his body to dodge it, another stone appeared where he was moving to avoid the first.

It was a throwing technique that claimed space in intervals.

Encrid’s body twisted in the realm of the unconscious.

Using his left foot as a pivot, he pulled his body back to the right and twisted his waist in the opposite direction.

He moved in a bizarre contortion, and with the rebound from snapping his waist, he tucked his head and rolled forward, dodging all the stones.

“Weren’t you supposed to dodge in place?”

A nonchalant voice entered his ears.

“I will, eventually.”

Maybe not now, but with repetition, it would happen. He didn’t need to glimpse the future to know it.

Walk steadily and you pass the milestones, eventually reaching your destination. He had proven that with his body and learned it through his life.

Encrid answered calmly, then rose and brushed the dust from his clothes.

It was the moment when the blue light heralding dawn was crushed by the rising sun, turning to orange and yellow.

Early morning, the hour when everyone wakes.

As if on cue, the entire company was gathered, watching Encrid and Jaxson.

Their eyes were all different.

Rem was bundled tightly in heated furs, giving a look as if to ask what kind of hometown tradition this was, doing crazy things at dawn in this freezing weather.

Audin was smiling warmly.

Ragna idly spun his wrist as he watched.

Teresa was absent due to being on duty, and Dunbakel glanced at Rem once, then at Encrid, and shook her head to herself.

She wanted to follow Encrid’s example, but if she had Rem try it, she figured he’d end up smashing his own head with a rock. (T/N: I dont know man, I just hope Dunbakel gets her own personality. I just find it empty when she’s just copying Encrid. You know what I mean?)

Encrid ignored the stares and sank into thought.

It was something he’d been pondering through two straight months of walking, running, and fighting.

‘The sense for evasion is a reflex born in the realm of the unconscious.’

Sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell are the five senses.

Blend them into one and reach the conclusion before you even process the sequence—that’s the sixth sense.

To perceive without going through sensation, experience, association, judgment, or deduction—that is intuition.

The sense for evasion was a technique born from intuition within the realm of the sixth sense.

Until now, he thought that alone was enough.

‘No.’

Pondering was Encrid’s habit and his everything.

He pondered and saw the path ahead of him.

As always, it was a thorny road. Rough and steep. A path climbing a cliff face.

Even so, he would enjoy the walk the whole way.

‘Within the realm of consciousness—’

Read every trajectory of an incoming stone, dodge them, and add deliberate movements.

That would become ‘preparation’ for the next move.

It was the sum of what he learned from the Proper Sword Style, what he gained from experience, and what he realized from watching Jaxson’s preparation.

“Again.”

The goal was to dodge all stones thrown at close range while staying in place and draw out intentional reaction speed.

Of course, this wasn’t the only thing he was doing.

When this was done, it would be Audin’s turn.

“Brother, you seem to enjoy hardship.”

“Why do you say that with such a big smile?”

“Because the Lord said, one cannot speak of hardship without walking the path of hardship themselves.”

Encrid interpreted the words of the big, muscle-bound religious zealot in his own way.

In other words, it sounded to him like Audin was delighted at the chance to half-kill him through training.

Encrid smiled back.

If there was fruit at the end of the path of hardship, whether it was ripe or rotten, he would be satisfied.

For a man who walked endlessly in place without stopping, even the smallest fruit was precious.

Whether it was a sweet fruit or a divine fruit, fruit was still fruit.

That was enough to please Audin.

Even if he had only hinted at it, he still smiled like this at the thought of half-killing him.

“Let’s begin.”

Audin taught Encrid partial strengthening training.

It was an advanced method even among the Isolation Technique, truly a path of hardship.

Before, he had broken down his body joint by joint and stretched it to gain flexibility.

This time, it was a method of training different parts of the body separately.

Divide the day into three—train the upper body in the morning, the lower body at noon, and hunt down and torment hidden muscles in the evening.

“There are muscles you can easily feel and see, but there are also those you cannot. In the Isolation Technique, we call these inner muscles. For example, here.”

As he spoke, Audin jabbed a finger into Encrid’s lower back.

An excruciating pain, like being stabbed all over with a knife, started in his back and spread through his whole body.

“Hhh.”

A groan escaped him before he realized it.

“That’s right. We’ll train those muscles.”

This came after the [Proper Heavy Recovery].

“Next is [Proper Heavy Body].”

From the inner muscles to the outer muscles, the training was near abuse. Rolling and rolling again.

“Normally, this would take years of work, but Brother Commander, you may be a genius when it comes to building the body. Training the body is also a matter of talent. Not many people realize that. I would add that it’s remarkable. You clearly had little physical talent before, and yet here you are—I would say it’s an unseen talent in my eyes.”

He kept talking, but Encrid only caught half of it.

When you have three stones tied together on your back and are standing on one leg, repeatedly sitting and standing, the sounds around you fade.

Sweat poured down.

Winter weather was nothing against the heat of training.

“Excellent.”

Audin smiled broadly. Encrid smiled back. Calling it insane didn’t mean it was bad.

In its own way, it was enjoyable.

Every drill was intense.

Carrying stones or Audin on his back and walking like a beast.

Standing on one leg to train ankle flexibility while picking up coins from the floor with a stone strapped to his back.

Doing it all dozens, hundreds of times.

It was grueling, breath-stealing, and difficult. He couldn’t let his focus slip. They weren’t the kind of things to yield results overnight, so it could be boring.

But he still did it. Without persistence, what would be left of Encrid?

Besides, to him, it wasn’t boring at all.

“I’m in too!”

Dunbakel, next to him, jumped in, only to have her face turn pale blue after just fifty laps of beast walking—the Isolation Technique form of walking on all fours to train the muscles.

Even so, dripping sweat onto the floor, she stuck it out.

Her eyes lingered on Encrid strangely whenever she struggled, but it wasn’t something to dwell on.

Encrid was too busy reviewing and refining his own training.

Rolling his body was part of his daily life.

And he couldn’t leave out the sword.

From the first point of the Fluid Sword Technique—that being gentle didn’t mean it wasn’t a blade—

He honed what he roughly called the Snake Sword.

Then came the Proper Sword Style.

Then back to the Heavy Sword Style, and finally pondering speed and sword energy.

Sharpening, seeking, and pursuing what he had over and over again.

“Rem!”

Putting what he’d learned and realized into practice through Rem was not forgotten.

“Dammit, what am I, some combat doll that fights whenever you call? You treating me like a human golem?”

Encrid was startled. He had, in fact, half thought of Rem that way.

Could he read minds?

“If you don’t want to, get out.”

Ragna, who had been watching quietly from the side, spoke as he sharpened his sword.

Shrring, ting!

Seeing him maintain his sword, unlike before, felt like watching a kid finally grow up.

“Sod off, you lazy ferret, before I split your skull with my axe.”

Rem immediately turned his head and glared. Just the usual.

“Well, my blade’s sharp, so it’d be good to stain it with barbarian blood.”

Ragna rose with his sword. From the look of it, he was ready to go at it.

“You can both come at once.”

Encrid provoked them both.

At that, both their eyes turned back to him.

Rem blinked, and Ragna sat back down.

Shrring, he went back to sharpening his sword.

Just one sentence, but it was the perfect way to defuse the fight.

“You’ll lose.”

Ragna said it while seated.

“Fine.”

Rem slapped the flat of his axe with his palm as he approached.

Ragna rose with his sword and took a spot at the edge of the training ground, swinging it.

Sometimes slow, sometimes fast.

Encrid took note, then silently gripped his sword with both hands, focusing to read Rem’s intent.

Sword to sword. Blade to blade.

Cold air cut between them. Their first sparring match in the past hadn’t even counted as one of Rem’s whims or pastimes.

After that had been axe swings tinged with mischief.

And now?

Even Rem couldn’t take Encrid lightly.

‘A monster. A real monster.’

Rem thought to himself. For someone who broke through the limits of talent with effort, the word ‘monster’ fit perfectly.

Which made it all the more fun.

At first, he just thought he’d watch to see when this guy would break. But somehow, he’d become part of his company, maybe even a true subordinate.

‘If my people back home saw this, they’d freak.’

Rem briefly thought of the past—of what he’d left behind in his homeland—then dismissed it. He let it all fly out of his mind.

What did it matter?

He crossed his axes.

The blades greeted each other lightly.

Tung.

At that sound, Encrid moved.

Hunching his upper body, he kicked off the ground. In an instant, he closed the distance. Rem saw it all. The boldness that rose from the heart made him stare straight at his opponent. His dynamic vision was on a different level from ordinary people.

Rem twisted his left foot and thrust his axe.

Fwoosh!

Ordinarily, even if blocked, the strike would cut through sword, forearm, and torso—a slash like a streak of light.

With speed added to its weight, it was a heavy streak of light, but Encrid caught and deflected it with his sword.

Even so, having not advanced even half a step, he couldn’t immediately counter despite diverting the axe.

The Snake Sword was blocked.

Rem swung his second axe.

A second cut.

It was a technique he prided himself on.

And Encrid blocked that, too.

Realizing it, Rem couldn’t help but be pleased.

“Good!”

The heated leather cloak hanging on his back flew off.

Rem bared his arms and his fangs.

A broad grin spread across his face.

After deflecting both slashes, Encrid stood with his sword raised.

Naturally, he smiled too.

From the side, they looked like madmen.

Why smile while fighting like you mean to kill each other?

Either way, this had been Encrid’s recent routine.

After returning, he focused solely on training, sparring, and discipline.

He didn’t even fulfill the duties of a training company commander.

Before he could use the excuse of being busy, the scout units had to be reformed, and the number of soldiers on duty had doubled.

The surrounding situation was too tense.

They couldn’t just run outside or go hunt monsters and beasts under the guise of training.

Naturally, all requests had stopped.

But they couldn’t block the movement of peddlers or large trading companies.

The territory was still on its way to becoming a center of trade.

All of it could be wiped away in a single blaze, but for now, this was the best they could do.

It was right around when Markus was busy cleaning up the mess that had just blown up.

Encrid didn’t care about Baron Tarnin or the Black Blade Bandits.

He had decided on his own tasks, and he did them. He moved and acted. He would step in when it was time. He didn’t feel that time was now.

Markus might be exasperated if he knew, but the truth was, Encrid’s involvement wouldn’t change anything, so this was the right course.

About fifteen days later—

“Still the same, I see.”

Markus came to see Encrid.

It was at the independent company barracks, inside their private training ground.

Snow was falling heavily overhead, the kind of weather that made soldiers curse.

Left alone, it would freeze into ice on the ground and be harder to clear, so they’d just sigh heavily at the falling snow.

They had set up something like a roof on one side of the training ground, supported by pillars.

Leaning halfway against one of the central pillars, Markus gave a bitter smile.

“I got done in.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m heading back.”

When Encrid gave him a blank look, Markus let out a deep sigh and continued.

“To the capital, the central city.”

Suddenly? Encrid had ears. He knew the surrounding situation had gone to hell.

Without reinforcements, they were becoming a lone, fragile light in the wind.

Of course, that fragile light wouldn’t go out easily.

But Markus pulling out now? No—he’d said he got done in, so that wasn’t it. It wasn’t him withdrawing; someone had applied pressure.

“I’m leaving the position of next lord to the First Company Commander.”

Encrid exhaled and set down a steel club weighing as much as ten swords, forged by a blacksmith at his request.

It was a good training tool that built the forearm, wrist, and even core strength through swinging.

It was also helpful for honing swordsmanship and attaching more precision to his blade work.

With a thud, it sank into the frozen dirt at an angle, and Markus glanced down at it.

Seeing the blunt tip buried in the hard ground reminded him just how much of a monster this man was.

While he was thinking that, Krys peeked his head out from the quarters.

“Oh, Battalion Commander, you’re here?”

Krys opened the door and gave something like a salute.

It didn’t really look sharp enough to be a proper salute, more like something similar.

“Clear out.”

Markus waved him off.

Encrid placed both hands together over the grip.

“Smoke?”

Markus asked.

“I don’t.”

Markus took a roll of leaf. Just as he was about to strike his flint, Krys trotted over and handed him a small ember.

Lighting it, Markus drew in deep and exhaled.

The white smoke mixed with his breath and spread into the air, the acrid scent stinging the nose.

It was a cigarette made from rolled leaves, and it didn’t smell particularly pleasant.

What came next was simple and clear.