Chapter 377

A purple lamp swayed above the rippling black river. Encrid’s body rocked with the ferry as it drifted.

He sat at the stern, silent, so the ferryman spoke again.

“There is a very easy way.”

Encrid didn’t answer, and the ferryman continued.

“Run away.”

His lips barely moved, yet his voice echoed across the ferry.

“Run away and don’t face your death. Then I will take care of it.”

Encrid only lowered his eyes, as if his head were packed with thoughts.

The ferryman opened his mouth again, the whispering voice rolling over the deck.

“If you don’t like running, then use your tongue. Persuade your opponent and prepare for what comes after. The two of you can handle it.”

If Aisia and Encrid joined forces, they could deal with whoever came afterward.

He knew the future because he repeated today.

Not every today was identical, but the larger picture didn’t change.

Aisia’s stamina was drained, and she was injured from fighting Encrid. The same was true for Encrid.

If they joined forces without burning stamina and without taking injuries, they could handle the opponent. They might even turn it around and win.

It was a life-or-death battle, and having two on the same side was obviously an advantage.

Of course, it still wouldn’t guarantee victory.

“Do you want to know what the wall really is?”

The ferryman’s words, as always, carried no emotion. He only laid out facts, one after another.

Encrid listened, but didn’t reply.

Was he weighing the words?

The ferryman kicked the ferry’s bottom with his toe.

The ferry jolted. Encrid steadied himself with one hand on the floor, then lifted his head.

A dazed gaze, a face lost in thought, a half-open mouth.

That was what the ferryman saw.

As focus returned to Encrid’s eyes, he asked back, “Pardon?”

“What did I just say?”

The ferryman almost let emotion show, but held it down and asked again.

Encrid blinked twice.

“Ah. I didn’t hear you.”

It was true. He’d been too absorbed to hear. His answer was sincere, as always.

“……Go.”

The ferryman spoke before he could think.

None of it went into this bastard’s head. It wasn’t that he listened with one ear and let it out the other. It wasn’t even stubborn rejection. He simply chewed on his own thoughts and swallowed everything else.

Even the ferryman felt displeased.

“Huh?”

Encrid’s genuinely dumbfounded face made it worse.

Sometimes purity was a weapon—one that stabbed frustration straight into the other person’s heart.

“I said go.”

The ferryman didn’t bother arguing. Sending him away was enough. There was a reason.

‘I will watch.’

By watching, he would find out what Encrid was thinking and what he planned to do.

“Ah, yes.”

Encrid nodded, unembarrassed.

A moment later, his figure blurred and vanished from the ferry.

Left alone, the ferryman stared into the darkness without speaking.

Encrid would repeat the same today again.

And he would face the same moment again. He would meet himself here, in the dark on the ferry. That was only natural.

The ferryman could see the repeated today ‘in advance.’

What would happen would happen.

What was destined would happen as destined.

Encrid had surprised him a few times, but that was all.

And there was no wall that could be overcome in a single day.

The repetition of today was a continuous cycle of pain and suffering—an inescapable structure. That was the core of the curse.

But for that madman, even pain became joy.

‘A madman.’

The ferryman’s gaze blurred. It wasn’t on the black river anymore, but on Encrid—repeating his life.

Because of the curse, he could see him.

So he watched.

Encrid repeated the same day.

He woke at dawn and trained his body.

He replaced persuasion by kicking the public officer.

He sent Ragna and the Beastkin Dunbakel to meet the group advancing from outside.

He flustered the companion at his side by telling the assassins he’d been hurt, that he’d been stabbed.

He headed to the Royal Palace and cut off the ill-fated relationship that blocked his path.

He cut and killed. There was no long conversation.

“Rape of a maid, right? I cut him down without asking before.”

“What?”

He ignored the other man’s confusion. No—he didn’t care about the past standing in front of him at all.

He’d nearly killed the owner of the curse once, so resentment might exist. It simply wasn’t visible.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

But—

‘He’s focused on something else right now.’

Encrid looked at the maid instead of the bewildered man.

He asked with his eyes if it was true, and the trembling maid nodded.

Then came the sequence: swing, cut, kill.

And in that way, he faced the wall again.

A knight with orange hair.

“That’s far enough.”

She stood in his way. Encrid raised his sword.

There were no questions. No reason to ask—it would happen anyway.

No, that wasn’t how his mind worked.

For a moment, the ferryman glimpsed Encrid’s thoughts.

They were filled with anticipation.

‘That bastard.’

Encrid was here because he wanted to clash with the wall. He’d run here to cross swords with that knight.

The repetition of the same today.

Similar, even if the details shifted.

Of course, there were differences—before he reached the palace. Changes that happened during training after he woke.

“Rem, how did you do that?”

It was around the time the morning sun passed overhead. Encrid asked Rem, even as the public officer was shouting at him.

“Hey, I came all the way here, and you’re chatting?”

“Wait a moment.”

Encrid said that, then asked again.

The public officer stood there, mouth hanging open.

“Sword Tip Aiming. You blocked it with an axe blade.”

“It’s called Axe Blade Aiming.”

Rem blinked and answered, brief and direct.

“You just have to hide it well.”

In truth, he couldn’t explain further. Encrid decided there was nothing more to hear, and turned away.

That was the difference in this repeated today.

“You scoundrel!”

The ignored opponent erupted in fury.

That was all.

After that, Encrid tried something against the wall called Aisia and met the same result.

Cut, stabbed, defeated. He ended up sprawled on the floor.

There was another difference from the previous today. The ferryman already knew it.

Encrid didn’t.

His gaze swept behind Aisia.

The one she called senior didn’t appear.

Instead—

“I’ll go check the rear.”

Aisia left, and that was the end. Not long after, darkness swallowed everything again, and today ended once more.

The ferryman looked across the ferry.

Sand-like fragments gathered, grain by grain, shaping into a human form.

It became Encrid.

The ferryman’s curiosity rose. There was no need to suppress it.

“I’ll ask you one thing.”

“Huh?”

Encrid was still dazed.

“What were you thinking about earlier, that you couldn’t even hear what I was saying?”

Encrid answered readily. There was nothing to hide.

He only wondered why the ferryman cared.

“I was thinking about how to block Sword Tip Aiming.”

The ferryman saw the heat in his eyes and understood.

Encrid was focused on one thing and nothing else.

So he saw only the sword in front of him. He recognized only that, and poured everything into it—wall or not.

The ferryman spoke again, words he didn’t need to say, but could.

“Do you see that as a wall?”

He was going to say no. He was going to tell him to face the real wall.

But those words stayed unspoken.

Encrid said, “I don’t know.”

So is that important? What matters to me isn’t that.

Those words, too, remained unspoken.

Do you have anything else to say? If not, leave me alone so I can think.

Those words also never came.

The ferryman felt something. Bewilderment. Being thrown off balance.

In the face of such unguarded purity, the ridicule he’d prepared crumbled in vain, mixing into the darkness and scattering away.

“Do as you please.”

He answered, reading the thoughts that hadn’t been spoken.

Yeah. Do whatever you want. What you’re seeing now isn’t a wall.

That part remained unsaid.

Encrid blurred, scattered, and disappeared again.

‘He’s foolish.’

But he wanted this.

And even if he overcame this wall, it would leave a deep scar.

Chuckle.

The ferryman laughed.

If he saw Encrid suffering then, there would be nothing more enjoyable.

The ferryman knew: if Encrid overcame this wall, it would become a curse of its own.

—

‘I understand one thing.’

Imitating Rem’s method was good.

Not only Rem’s method—everyone’s method should be tried at least once.

Imitation was one of the fastest ways to understand what you were imitating.

‘My method is next.’

If he saw a path, he walked it. That was Encrid.

What was the wall, and how far did it extend?

If he asked the ferryman, he felt the ferryman would answer. Today’s ferryman gave him that sense.

But it wasn’t important. There was no need to know.

So he didn’t ask.

Instead, he thought.

“What are you thinking about this early?”

It was the third today. Rem, who’d woken late, asked when Encrid stopped mid-training and sank into thought.

Encrid asked his question sooner than he had on the second today.

“How did you do Axe Blade Aiming?”

Rem didn’t flinch at the sudden question. It wasn’t new.

So the answer came immediately.

“Aisia’s sword is aiming at me. I’m aiming at her sword tip with my axe.”

The explanation was still a mess. Hard to follow.

But if Encrid would give up because of that, he would never have picked up a sword in the first place.

And Rem realized his explanation was difficult.

“Hold Blazeblade and aim.”

Rem took out his long-handled axe.

It was a surprisingly heavy weapon, with a strange center of gravity—easy enough to grip, but heavier than expected.

Still, the sense of weight changed just by Rem holding it.

Encrid drew Blazeblade.

Ting.

He aimed the thin, narrow blade forward.

As he did, he thought the first step of imitation might be to mirror Sword Tip Aiming.

‘Mixing intimidation and killing intent.’

In a way, it was completely opposite to Jaxson’s Silent Pierce.

A sword that deceived by pouring pressure into the opponent.

Encrid couldn’t replicate it immediately. Instead, as he aimed—

Thud.

Rem struck the sword tip with the axe blade. More precisely, he struck the sharp part of the blade with the axe blade.

“Do you understand?”

Encrid didn’t answer. He fell into thought.

He replayed what Rem had just done.

A demonstration with the body was twice as easy as words.

Encrid understood.

Rem had struck Blazeblade’s point—the sword tip—with the sharpest line of his axe blade.

Edge and point met exactly.

It felt like a miracle, beyond a mere trick.

And within that action, a question was buried.

Could he make sword tip and another sword tip meet at real speed, with real power?

“Ah.”

An exclamation escaped him.

“Try it. You’ll know if you try it.”

Rem stepped back. Encrid slowly divided his swords between both hands.

Blazeblade and Silver.

Making blades meet was easy.

But point and point?

Blade and point?

Slowly, it was possible.

Difficult, but possible—if he slowed down.

He tensed without realizing it. The extra force made the movement stiff.

What would make it natural?

What kind of skill did that require?

“That’s right. You just need to be able to do that kind of thing.”

Rem said, tucking the long-handled axe at his waist as if he’d said everything that needed saying.

Encrid didn’t even nod. He’d already fallen into his own world.

Immersion.

Rem watched him, thought he was a strange human, then looked at Andrew and lifted a finger to his mouth.

He didn’t say shush, but Andrew closed his mouth anyway.

After taking three steps back at Rem’s gesture, Andrew opened his mouth again.

“What is it?”

“I will personally train you today.”

“……It’s okay. I can do it alone.”

“No. It’s not okay. I will carry on the captain’s legacy.”

“No. Captain Encrid isn’t dead.”

“My continental language is still clumsy.”

What was he talking about? Andrew had never even seen Rem use a Western language.

Andrew’s expression spoke the words he didn’t, but Rem ignored it.

Meanwhile, Encrid heard everything and still sank deeper into thought. He shut out the world and pondered.