Chapter 370

Swaying.

Ripples spread across the water.

In the pitch-black darkness, a single light source illuminated the surroundings. Following that trail of light, a figure holding a lamp on the ferry came into view.

Encrid was aboard the long ferry that crossed the river.

Was it an illusion that the boat seemed bigger and longer than before?

It was a dream—after a long time.

The ferryman stood opposite him, holding the oars.

“It’s been a while.”

Encrid spoke.

His eyes, nose, mouth, and skin were visible. His cracked, dark gray skin looked like drought-stricken land. There was no trace of humanity in it.

His expression was still hard to read, but compared to the first time they met, more of him was visible now.

At least, Encrid could see his eyes, nose, and mouth.

And now, he could speak.

The ferryman’s mouth opened. A straight line split briefly, then closed again—too strange to read like lips.

“This wall will be interesting.”

His heavy, low voice hit like a dull hammer.

Words—once spoken—reach the other person instantly. There was no faster weapon.

Encrid felt as if his heart had been struck with no chance to defend.

The shock spread through his body. He trembled, feeling the vibration. It stirred something primal in humans: fear.

The ferryman had done that.

And Encrid—

“I look forward to it.”

Enjoyed it.

Here, there was no Heart of the Beast, no point of focus, no Sensory Art, no trained body.

Only his inherent self remained.

Encrid answered with his original will, belief, and resolve.

In truth, he enjoyed it. Genuinely—truly—he enjoyed even this. He meant it.

The trembling heart, the shock moving through his body—every bit of it would become a stepping stone for what came next.

Anticipation overcame fear.

Could there ever be a day when it didn’t become a stepping stone?

It could be, but it couldn’t be.

A contradiction—two opposing statements.

Yet for Encrid, it fit perfectly.

‘There’s something to learn even from a flower blooming in a field.’

Something to learn from a star in the night sky.

Something to learn from a dandelion seed scattering on the wind.

Contemplate.

Worry.

Anguish.

Think, and think again. Never forget that all of it can become your sword.

Master, instructor, mercenary, Rem, Ragna, Jaxson, Audin, as well as Esther, Dunbakel, Teresa, Krang, Andrew, and recently Aisia.

And countless others—those who died by his sword.

The enemy soldiers from when he repeated the first today.

The swordsman of the Hurrier family.

Mages, magic, sorcery, strategic traps.

Everything was a teaching.

“Madness, or resolve?”

The ferryman spoke.

His figure gradually blurred. This was a dream—an inner world. He would wake soon.

“Or is it the death throes of an ignorant fool?”

The ferryman looked at Encrid.

His eye color shifted moment to moment—blue, then red, then pitch black. Then purple, then like dark tree bark.

Only then did Encrid realize it.

This was the first time he was looking directly into the ferryman’s eyes.

“Now you even make eye contact.”

The ferryman’s words reached him. Encrid could faintly sense something like admiration.

And then Encrid opened his eyes.

‘It’s been a while.’

Dreaming of the ferryman at all was rare. It felt like a long time since he’d seen him.

Was it because he hadn’t been repeating today recently? Had he gotten careless? Had he stopped facing the repeating today?

No.

Not when he caught the Moonlight Beast.

Not when he fought Aisia.

As soon as Aisia crossed his mind, their sparring came with it. Regretful—regretful. It would have been fun to fight a little more.

There was still so much to learn. But she left.

From Aisia, he’d seen a discipline that wasn’t easily found in Rem, Ragna, or Jaxson.

‘Is it because she built her foundation and learned in the Royal Guard?’

Soft, but upright.

It was called the Illusion Sword, but compared to the Valen-Style mercenary swordsmanship, it was completely different.

‘Illusion Sword is about deceiving and confusing the opponent.’

And within that, it took advantage of the opponent’s focus—beyond simple deception.

It was the kind of technique that might not work on warriors or swordsmen of a certain level.

If someone was below Junior Knight—maybe even below Squire—they might ignore Aisia’s Sword Tip Aiming and swing anyway.

Ignorance—not knowing what’s what—sometimes looks bold.

Of course, at that level, she wouldn’t even need Sword Tip Aiming.

It had been a short time, but there was still much to learn.

It was the same mindset as the dream.

There is something to learn even from a dandelion seed scattering in the wind.

‘Everything around me is my teacher.’

If there is teaching, I will contemplate and contemplate until I learn it and make it mine.

Encrid didn’t notice it, but his desire to improve was always boiling.

A desire to become better.

A desire to move forward.

A desire to develop skill, level, and technique.

He naturally adopted an active attitude—and beyond that, he learned to look back at himself.

Now he knew it was the faster path.

Rest mattered, and there were times when stepping back to see the whole mattered even more.

Now he knew that too.

Things he hadn’t understood when he met and learned from countless instructors—

Now he saw them, realized them, and reflected on them one by one.

He knew the time he’d spent wasn’t wasted.

With that thought, he got up and began his repetitive routine.

He went outside and warmed up by bouncing in place.

Then he performed the Isolation Technique, loosening each joint and stretching muscle.

After that, he stood before the garden stones Andrew had piled up, grabbed them with both hands, and lifted.

Training the backs of his thighs, the center of his body, and the thigh muscles through repeated sitting and standing.

Before he knew it, the ferryman’s dream and even the desire to improve had slipped away.

In that place, only enthusiasm remained.

“Aren’t you tired of it?”

Andrew came out late and clicked his tongue.

“Of what?”

Encrid asked, breathing hard as he rested.

“What you’re doing now. No—everything.”

In the morning, he trained different parts of his body, then trained again by taking Dunbakel’s stones or Rem’s fists.

Then swordsmanship, handling various weapons.

Then sparring, then more training.

In whatever spare time remained, he taught himself and the trainees.

He digested a schedule too heavy for a single day, every day, without faltering. Andrew couldn’t understand how a human did it.

That was what his question carried.

And recently, Encrid had caught a Moonlight Beast—human or demon—and spoke of it like a casual night stroll.

Andrew wondered if Encrid was even human.

It was harsher than before.

Even back when he was under Encrid’s command, the training had been brutal. But compared to now—his skill had improved, yet the training hadn’t decreased. It had increased, grown more radical, more unconventional.

“Actually.”

Encrid opened his mouth.

“Actually?”

Andrew echoed, because Encrid didn’t continue right away.

“It’s so much fun I could die.”

Andrew’s lips opened, closed, then opened again. He couldn’t find words.

Still, his chest felt tight unless he let something out—something that held all the admiration he couldn’t admit.

He turned his head slightly and muttered under his breath.

“…Crazy bastard.”

It was meant as a whisper, but of course Encrid heard it.

Jaxson, who had appeared without Andrew noticing, spoke from behind.

“He’ll hear everything.”

“Yes?”

Startled at the lack of presence, Andrew turned.

“The captain has good ears.”

Jaxson kindly explained again.

Andrew’s suspicious gaze shifted to Encrid.

“I didn’t hear you say crazy bastard.”

“Ah.”

Andrew let out a long sigh.

“Let’s start training.”

That day, the Isolation Technique began—custom-tailored for Andrew.

The human body adapts. If you keep the same intensity every day, you start to weaken.

So you make it harder. Tougher.

Encrid gave Andrew that gift.

“Why are we—”

The five trainees were also forced into more intense training.

Resentment started to gather in their eyes.

“They’ve got time to spare, kids.”

Rem laughed when he saw it. What were those eyes? Resentment? Reeeeesentmeeeent?

“Good. Good.”

Rem chuckled.

The five trainees turned pale when they saw that.

Ragna didn’t come out to the training ground until late morning.

Compared to before, he really seemed like a different person.

It seemed like it would be just another day.

Except Krang’s investiture ceremony was tomorrow.

But it wasn’t the same.

Encrid felt the air change against his skin.

“It’s… uh, deserted.”

Rem’s wildness caught the same scent. Dunbakel did too.

“Get our gear.”

Encrid said. Rem nodded without a word. Everyone began moving. Encrid gathered his own gear as well.

‘Six Whistle Daggers.’

They could be useful if the timing was right.

Three swords. Bandage-like armor wrapped around his body. Leather armor over that.

It was lined with tough cloth.

It would be stiff and restrict movement, but it didn’t seem like a serious hindrance.

Andrew’s gift.

“Get your gear.”

Morning training had just ended. At Encrid’s words, Andrew and the five trainees gathered.

“What is it?”

Mac asked. Had he sensed the ominous air too?

Or was he just uneasy seeing Encrid and his party?

“The atmosphere isn’t good.”

Dunbakel answered.

Ragna gathered his sword off to one side, then secured a short sword at his waist.

He pulled his boot laces tight.

Encrid checked everything—from the sword belt onward—then looked around the mansion and listened.

“There’s no one, right?”

Rem hadn’t said it was deserted for nothing.

At Encrid’s words, Jaxson nodded.

Jaxson wore a sword the length of his forearm at his waist instead of a longsword.

The moment he sensed something off, he had already looked around.

No one was near the mansion. Not even a dog on the road that usually had plenty of foot traffic.

Beyond the clean bluestone road, a few people could be seen hiding inside houses.

Did someone clear the area? No—the residents themselves were avoiding the mansion.

The surrounding area was already encircled by troops. Soldiers in Royal Guard uniforms stood out, spears and swords in hand. Roughly more than twenty.

Encrid ignored them. They weren’t going to try anything with that number.

Then what were they going to do?

Right now, Krang was his backing. Markus Vaisar, too.

Ignoring that and stepping forward?

‘What are they trying to do?’

He almost looked forward to it.

As he waited, Esther suddenly lifted her head.

Encrid’s eyes met hers.

Esther had been lying still, then snapped up at something that brushed her senses.

‘A spell?’

More precisely—mana interference.

Someone had laid magical groundwork here.

Nothing would happen immediately, but if left alone, it was preparation that would let them do whatever they wanted.

There was a saying: in a mage’s fight, the one who prepares wins.

Meaning the one who knows the opponent and prepares accordingly holds the advantage.

‘Do they know me?’

From a magical standpoint, they might. Even if she rarely showed herself, she had killed Galaf—the one who’d grabbed the lifeline.

Someone among Galaf’s disciples might recognize her traces.

‘Who could it be?’

It wasn’t curiosity so much as competitiveness.

There was a reason they called her the Witch of Strife.

Esther didn’t avoid a fight that came to her.

Had rumors spread that she had weakened because of the curse?

If the opponent believed that and came, they would regret it deeply.

Esther stepped forward in panther form and transformed into human.

Her fur vanished, revealing pale, beautiful skin, and the fur became a long coat before disappearing.

Now human, Esther fastened the front as she looked around.

“If you keep looking, your eyes will get gouged out.”

Encrid saw himself grab Andrew’s chin and turn his face away.

“Good job.”

Esther praised him briefly and moved.

“I’ll be back.”

Encrid didn’t ask where she was going. She would move on her own. She was going to stop whatever magical setup had been laid.

It wasn’t worry, but he still threw her one line.

“Don’t get beat up.”

“Who are you worried about?”

Arrogant as ever, Esther pulled her long black hair back and tied it tight, then crossed the wall as if it weren’t there.

Before he knew it, she was dressed in long leather pants and a white shirt beneath the coat.

Now that she was free of the curse’s influence, clothing made with protective spells wasn’t difficult.

She hadn’t spent all that time lying on cushions doing nothing.

Esther had prepared and equipped herself.

Not every mage was a prophet, but anyone who handled spells properly developed a sense for danger.

Esther was the same.

She hadn’t predicted this exact moment—but she had prepared.

Now she only needed to show it.

As soon as Esther left, Encrid turned his head slightly, listened, then spoke.

“Andrew, keep people inside and defend the mansion.”

“Yes?”

“There are quite a few.”

Andrew didn’t question it. He moved.

“Everyone inside!”

The remaining maids and servants, Mac, and the five trainees went in first. Andrew stayed in the training ground.

When Encrid glanced at him, Andrew replied.

“Shouldn’t I help, even if it’s just one?”

Because Encrid said there were many.

It would be annoying to fight while defending, but Andrew wouldn’t go down easily.

The five trainees and Mac could hold out somehow.

From the start, Encrid had no intention of letting anyone into the mansion.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

A chilling sound shook the ground.

Encrid felt the vibration through his skin as it drew closer.

Dust rose, and a cavalry unit came into view, galloping over the bluestone.

They stopped and blocked the entrance to the mansion. At the very front, a man in splendid armor opened his mouth.

“I am Polman Bertes. Is there a man named Encrid here!”

“…Chief of Public Order?”

Andrew muttered at the name.

“That’s me.”

Encrid raised his hand.

It was a heavy, impressive hand—gauntleted in sturdy leather and iron plates.

In other words, he was armed. The Chief of Public Order saw that too.

The troops surrounding the mansion were twenty. The cavalry that arrived now was over thirty, and infantry followed behind, bringing the total to over a hundred.

It looked like they’d gathered nearly all the Royal Guard.

Among them, Encrid spotted the South Gate guard captain from the night they caught the Moonlight Beast.

His complexion was a pale blue.

“I will take you into custody on suspicion of murdering Baron Vantra.”

The Chief of Public Order declared from horseback.

What a load of crap.

Encrid wore it on his face.

“Bullshit.”

Rem said it out loud.

At that blunt answer, the Chief of Public Order’s face flushed red.

A striking contrast to the pale South Gate guard captain.