Chapter 376
‘That crazy bastard.’
Aisia nearly lost her composure at Encrid’s smile, but she forced herself to stay steady.
If she wasn’t going to kill that bastard, then she had to stop him here.
Her younger sibling had been taken hostage.
And there was someone behind her—someone she hadn’t expected.
Thoughts piled up in tangled layers, then vanished.
With a man smiling like that right in front of her, there was nothing left to say.
“You must have a reason to break through, right? I have a reason to stop you.”
The words slipped out on their own.
Why?
Why was she saying this to Encrid?
She didn’t know. The atmosphere pushed her forward.
So she hardened her face even more. She buried her expression and spoke with her sword instead.
Her specialty wasn’t just Sword Tip Aiming.
In technique, she would never be pushed back. There was a gap between her and Encrid that couldn’t be closed in a short time.
She admitted he was stronger, but the gap in technique wouldn’t be filled so easily.
Encrid was good at both strength and tactics.
But no matter how good his tactics were, if he kept getting pushed back in the finer exchanges, there was no answer.
Encrid closed his eyes again.
“You’ll die if you do that.”
He didn’t intend to kill her, but he couldn’t afford to be careless.
“Do it if you can.”
Encrid didn’t back down. In that moment, Aisia felt a sharp frustration.
“If it’s not now, then next time. You wouldn’t have to fight while taking risks.”
Even as she said it, she knew the answer. She knew too well what Encrid would say.
They hadn’t seen each other for a few days, but she still knew exactly what kind of person he was.
“If today doesn’t work, then tomorrow. If tomorrow doesn’t work, then next time.”
Encrid spoke with his eyes closed, still keeping his blade leveled.
“If I’d ever planned for a next time, I wouldn’t even be standing in front of you right now.”
Aisia grit her teeth.
They fought in succession. In the end, Aisia punched two holes into Encrid’s forearm.
She also carved a deep wound into his thigh—deep enough for a finger to fit.
In return, Encrid missed Silver and left a long cut across Aisia’s cheek with Blazeblade.
“It would’ve been easier if I’d intended to kill you.”
Aisia said, breathing hard.
She glanced at the sun, already tilted far to one side.
The blade of rebellion that had begun in broad daylight must have already set the entire palace churning.
And, sure enough—
“That’s enough.”
A voice came from behind Aisia, from within a shadow untouched by light.
“Get rid of that.”
The voice followed, calm and certain.
Encrid, slumped on the floor, turned his gaze past Aisia. There was no light. He couldn’t make out the opponent clearly—only a silhouette, black and deep.
Yet even standing in darkness, the man’s presence had a color so intense it pressed against the senses.
Who was that?
He could tell just from the feel of it—and from Aisia’s posture.
Someone above her.
It was darkness born from unlit candles. A man stepped out from beyond it.
Color seeped into the silhouette as he approached. Watching him, Encrid felt as if an unstoppable boulder were rolling down a slope.
‘He’s not a knight.’
Instinct and experience told him so. He’d already faced one before, hadn’t he?
Only a single swing back then, but it had been enough to understand what a knight was.
This man wasn’t.
Dull hair, a long sword at his waist, and a blood-stained dagger in his hand.
Aisia turned. Even though she had enough strength left to land one more blow on Encrid, she reversed without hesitation.
She lifted her sword toward the man and said, “Senior, let’s stop here.”
Encrid watched Aisia’s back, and the man’s front—an oppressive weight that overwhelmed her.
The man with the dagger tilted his head. Curly dark-brown hair shifted with the motion.
“Aisia?”
“This is enough. What are you going to do when the Master returns?”
Even Encrid could hear it—Aisia’s words had no force behind them.
She didn’t believe what she was saying.
“If you can’t do it, I’ll do it.”
The man strode forward. Aisia raised her sword again, throwing out pressure.
A wall.
The wall that had once blocked Encrid had simply turned and now faced the other way.
“You should give up.”
Encrid muttered.
He couldn’t gauge the man’s skill. Was it because he lacked the insight?
He didn’t know.
It felt like looking at Ragna or Rem.
“You think all Junior Knights are the same?”
Aisia’s words from that sparring match struck him again. Was it because of this man that she’d spat them out back then?
Probably.
The man ignored her intimidation. His pace didn’t change.
“Aisia.”
Encrid called her again from where he sat. Aisia didn’t answer.
Instead, she raised her sword and aimed.
Sword Tip Aiming.
And Encrid saw the answer to breaking it again.
The fourth time, after Rem, Ragna, and Jaxson.
The instant Aisia aimed, the man took a big step forward and struck the flat of her rapier with his dagger.
Sword Tip Aiming became useless.
Encrid understood at once what had happened.
It came naturally—this was the fourth time he’d seen the answer.
‘Just because you aim doesn’t mean the substance goes anywhere.’
The sword is still there. If you can knock it aside with force, you can break Sword Tip Aiming.
It’s a technique that will break anyway if Aisia swings or blocks first.
So if someone closes in and swings a dagger, she has no choice but to deflect or block.
But the conditions to do that weren’t simple. You had to strike in a way that stopped her from using deflecting techniques and also cut off any chance for her to counterattack.
So how was it possible now?
He could see the answer, but not the whole process.
‘Normally, she’d deflect and strike again.’
The flow had been severed.
To show that kind of control with nothing but a dagger meant the man was on a different level.
Not all Junior Knights are the same.
Those words sank deep into Encrid’s chest.
Encrid used his sword as a cane and pushed himself upright. He could probably swing one or two more times.
If he just stood by and watched Aisia die, it wouldn’t end as a mere unpleasant dream.
From the moment he rose, Encrid didn’t care whether his sword would work.
He was moving because he still could.
“Don’t act like an idiot.”
The man said again. His eyes never once shifted to Encrid. They were fixed only on Aisia.
Aisia recovered the sword that had been knocked away and thrust in three directions.
A thrust like a trident. Was the technique called Trident?
She’d said she learned it by watching fishermen in a coastal village.
The man stirred his dagger up and down.
Like stirring a ladle through stew.
That was what it looked like to Encrid.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Three collisions rang out.
“Are you really going to do this?”
The man asked again. Aisia raised her sword instead of answering, then shifted her stance.
Her specialty wasn’t just Sword Tip Aiming.
Encrid knew that well.
She drove strength into her toes and shifted her center of gravity. She wasn’t careless in training her strength—but there were plenty of men far stronger than her.
If she hadn’t found a way to overcome that, she never could’ve become a Junior Knight.
“Do you really want to die?”
His tone had no rise or fall. No rhythm. It was closer to listing facts.
Aisia’s sword flew again and again.
It curved, pierced, darted, and soared—an intricate, razor-edged technique that had pierced Encrid’s forearm when he failed to block it.
Delicate and sharp. Even in speed alone, it rivaled his own [Will of the Moment].
Calling it a killer move wouldn’t be wrong.
But against all those blades, the man casually lifted his dagger and blocked them.
In the end, the tip grazed his cheek, but it wasn’t fatal.
Pfft—blood splattered.
The man let the dagger fall. The stubby blade clattered to the floor.
At the same time, his hand gripped the hilt of the long sword at his waist.
Encrid caught the pommel’s shape—a wolf.
The man drew the sword. There was no flash of speed, no heavy surge of power.
It was simply drawn, then carried forward.
Yet the blade rose at a strange angle and cut the flow of Aisia’s thrust cleanly.
He struck her sword in the middle.
Thud.
Aisia’s rapier bounced away.
‘How is that possible?’
Encrid didn’t know. Not at all. There was nothing he could understand from sight alone.
Aisia pulled her sword back in front of her chest. The flow was broken.
With her momentum dead, there was no way a simple thrust could land.
As the flow snapped, her steps tangled.
As her steps tangled, her breathing caught.
A suffocating halt.
Aisia held her breath entirely. Instead of thrusting, she slashed—throwing away the flow.
She drew down from top to bottom.
The vertical slash wasn’t lightning, but it was as fast as a ray of light.
It resembled the unconventional swings Encrid sometimes made with Blazeblade.
As Aisia’s blade dropped, the man met it and shoved.
Ting-ting-ting.
Sparks burst where steel met steel. A short stalemate formed, blades pressed together.
Encrid threw himself in at that timing.
He couldn’t explode forward like he had against Aisia earlier.
But he could still deliver at least one proper strike.
He gathered the acceleration of the [Will of the Moment].
He rejected the pressure the man was pouring out.
He ignited the Heart of Monstrous Strength and held his concentration to a single point.
He thrust Blazeblade from his left hand.
The straight-reaching sword seemed to imitate sunlight.
The moment you feel it, sunlight touches you. There’s no avoiding it.
The thrust reminded him of that.
The completeness was higher than ever—breath, steps, timing, muscle elasticity, the pressure of his grip.
Everything fit.
It was a thrust that felt perfectly right, without joy or anything else.
And even so, the man’s sword slipped into the gap.
How do you avoid sunlight?
Stand in the shade.
The flow broke.
The blade that intruded exactly along the middle struck Blazeblade’s center before the thrust could fully bloom.
Not with violent force, but with perfect interference, the direction twisted.
The force rising from Encrid’s feet, the breath, the footing—everything disrupted at once.
Encrid knew the attack had failed.
That was the result.
The sword in the man’s right hand had already pierced Aisia’s heart.
“Ghk.”
Aisia spat blood foam. Even as her heart was impaled, she swung her rapier, but her strength was already fading.
The man didn’t even bother to take it. He knocked the falling blade aside with his shoulder armor.
His left arm remained extended, and a short sword was already in his left hand.
Its tip was buried in Encrid’s chest.
The bandage armor held for a moment, so it didn’t pierce his heart cleanly, but it slid off and entered from the side, tearing through other organs.
The man’s gaze passed over Encrid’s insides. Still, he said nothing.
An expression like looking at a stone on the roadside.
Was it the difference in skill?
No. That wasn’t it.
It was the look you gave a person—or a thing—that had nothing to do with you.
“There was no way to subdue you without killing you.”
He spoke only to Aisia.
“Senior.”
Aisia’s mouth opened, bubbling with blood. She gathered her last strength and forced the words out.
“My sibling.”
“Don’t worry.”
The light left Aisia’s eyes.
Encrid’s mind didn’t cloud, even as the burning pain spread through his organs.
Today’s repetition was a curse.
There was no blessing that let him adapt to pain.
So the agony was the same as the first time he ever repeated this day—and the same now.
Even so, he couldn’t take his eyes off Aisia.
It was one thing for her to block him, but why had she turned around here?
Why had she stood in front of him?
He could tell from the atmosphere alone.
It was something she could have ignored.
Something she could have turned away from.
Then there would’ve been no need to risk her life.
But she hadn’t.
And he didn’t need to ask why.
Just as he didn’t push today off to tomorrow.
There was something Aisia couldn’t give up, either.
What she couldn’t give up—
‘Not turning away from her heart.’
Why had she stood here in the first place?
To kill him?
No. She hadn’t.
She could have killed him whenever she wanted.
The squad members had said it together.
– “If you go into a fight to the death, the victory or defeat will be divided somehow. But the truth that it’s hard to win right now won’t disappear.”
Rem had said.
– “You’ll lose if you fight. You’ll lose even if you’re lucky.”
Ragna had said it too.
As those thoughts continued, the man stepped right up to him. Leather boots filled Encrid’s view.
When Encrid lifted his gaze, the man finally spoke to him.
“You died because of you.”
A flat, indifferent tone, empty of emotion.
Then the man’s sword struck Encrid’s neck.
Pain exploded from the nape and surged into his brain.
Burning heat, the tearing of flesh, blackout—the moment darkness swallowed everything.
Crossing that moment, he saw the surging river.
“Shall I tell you an easy way?”
The ferryman asked.