Chapter 379

“Andrew, yeah, try it like that.”

Nineteen todays had passed. Encrid ordered Andrew to thrust his sword at him.

Now, he needed someone’s help.

So he did exactly that.

He began training—making the tip of Andrew’s sword meet the tip of his own.

“…This is a barbaric training method.”

After hearing Andrew’s complaint about thirty-six times, Encrid met the tip of his sword with the tip of his opponent’s for the first time.

Not while standing still, but while moving at a moderate speed.

Naturally, it wasn’t easy. It was difficult—so difficult that when he finally managed it, the thrill of success surged through his entire body.

Of course, that thrill and elation didn’t last.

To truly master it, he would have to repeat the same action countless times.

Even so, he couldn’t deny that it was enjoyable.

Clang!

A light sound rang out—one he rarely heard.

“But is this fun?”

Andrew asked. Even while focusing on making the blades meet, he radiated energy from head to toe.

Joyful. Exciting.

As if proving a child could play with a toy all day, he looked like he was doing exactly that.

It felt like he was thrusting his sword using pure joy as a weapon.

That was Andrew’s impression.

“Yeah, aaaaaand.”

Encrid replied, dragging out the word.

‘Why is this like that?’

Andrew couldn’t understand, but for Encrid it was natural—like everything else.

“You think this is fun?”

“Yeah, veeeeeery.”

“This?”

“Huh?”

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang.

The tips met again and again.

After hearing Andrew’s exclamation more than forty times, Encrid nodded, drenched in sweat.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Then he called Rem.

“Rem, swing your axe.”

He switched opponents.

Rem snorted and swung without hesitation.

There was no margin for error.

No carefully crafted openings.

Without that, he wouldn’t be able to deflect Rem’s axe completely. Not partially—completely.

That was the beginning.

After meeting sword tips came training to deflect Rem’s axe. The goal wasn’t just deflection, but making the sword tip meet the edge of the blade.

“Are you fearless, or just thoughtless? Come here and kneel at once!”

Whenever he was engrossed in training, the Chief of Public Order invariably arrived. His reaction was always the same upon seeing Encrid absorbed like this, and Encrid answered without thinking.

“Oh, you’re here?”

Now, he was even glad to see him. After repeated forging and training, it was time for practical training.

After greeting him with the familiarity that had piled up through repeated todays, the Chief of Public Order’s face turned red and he snorted.

He thought he was being mocked.

Of course, he was right.

“You son of a bitch…”

After subduing the Chief of Public Order—who was about to spew more nonsense—with a persuasive kick.

After having Dunbakel show the public order forces the difference in power.

After assigning Ragna and Dunbakel to Squire Roford, sending Rem to save Markus, and facing Jaxson and the assassins.

“Thrust…”

Before the word even finished, Encrid moved, and Jaxson leapt to the side.

Stealthily. Quietly.

Jaxson used the magical artifact he carried to silence sound and presence, then vanished.

Encrid drew attention first, then Jaxson drew attention again, throwing the assassins into confusion.

The assassins, sensing a greater threat from Jaxson, began targeting only him.

Watching it several times, it almost looked like they had set out to kill Jaxson from the start.

Why?

A sudden question rose. Several thoughts flashed through his mind.

He let them all pass.

A suspicion surfaced on instinct, but he couldn’t dwell on it now.

He rode One-Eye to meet Aisia and repeated today again.

He managed to completely deflect Rem’s strike faster than expected.

Of course, it wasn’t a “real” swing.

It only took ninety-six times.

It was possible because the fundamentals were now firmly in place.

The various weapon-handling training he’d done so far helped as well.

The more experience he gained, the more he realized about the sword he had originally wielded.

Rem snorted every time he saw it.

“Those things usually come naturally, but you have such a peculiar body.”

According to him, some things naturally settled into the body as skill improved. But Encrid didn’t have that.

He was like a stone tower that had to be built by hand—one stone at a time.

A stone tower that had to be stacked with care, almost like a prayer, so it wouldn’t collapse.

It fit.

Whether it was the basics or anything else, nothing settled into his body unless he mastered it properly, piece by piece.

What did those who filled the absence of talent with effort need most?

Time.

And he had received time because of the curse.

“What’s even more amazing is how you seem to change overnight.”

Even for Rem, this was the first time he’d seen someone like this. He clearly lacked talent, he was at his limit, he had reached the edge of a cliff—yet he walked on thin air. And as he walked, a path formed beneath his feet.

It was Encrid, who had deflected his axe. He had progressed further than before. His skill was growing at an abnormal rate.

No genius changes overnight. There were usually signs, hints.

‘No… were there signs already?’

Rem scratched his head.

There was a body and technique already prepared, and time for training.

So did Encrid have a talent that accumulated and then exploded all at once?

‘That doesn’t make sense.’

He had seen too many nonsensical things and tried to ignore it, but it was still astonishing every time. Arguing didn’t change anything.

“Jaxson.”

After roughly deflecting Rem’s axe, Encrid brought in Jaxson.

Jaxson was the only one with precision similar to Sinar the Elf Commander’s sword.

It wasn’t that Rem and Ragna lacked that element.

They also had delicate, precise swordwork. With greater skill, they could do anything.

But everyone had strengths.

Jaxson’s meticulousness was similar to an elf’s. That was one of his strengths.

“Shake it.”

Encrid had him shake the tip of his sword and strike, repeating the training of meeting tips.

Sometimes, after facing and fighting Aisia—

“Did you leave a lover behind or something? Can’t you go later?”

He tried to dissuade her, but Aisia didn’t listen.

“I have something to confirm.”

She always said that and turned away.

Then, blackout.

Today repeated again.

“What the hell did you do?”

Rem’s surprise greeted him at the start of a new today.

He called Jaxson—who was watching with shining eyes—and repeated the training.

With so many overlapping events in every repeated today, he used them as anchors to count the numbers.

The ferryman occasionally smiled. A smile full of anticipation, you could say.

That was how it looked—and sounded—to Encrid.

Chuckle.

The laughter rode the black river. The lamp’s light flickered with it.

He wasn’t bothered by someone laughing at him.

Whether it was the ferryman or anyone else, it didn’t matter.

Since he was young, he had swung his sword, run, tumbled, fought, and risen again amid countless jeers.

Ridicule was familiar.

And in the first place, that kind of mental attack was meaningless to Encrid.

So he woke up again and repeated today. He trained, and honed his skills.

It was around the time he could meet the tip of Jaxson’s sword.

In other words, when he could roughly block Aisia’s Sword Tip Aiming with Sword Tip Meeting.

“…How?”

Aisia looked several times more shocked than before.

“Just by doing it.”

It wasn’t a moment that could be replaced with the word “luck.”

The thrill and rush of pleasure that surged through his body brought a natural smile to his face.

Seeing that, Aisia pulled her sword back and said, “Your face is a weapon too, huh.”

She took a step back and aimed again.

“Try it again.”

He did. He met and guarded the tip of her sword.

“You’re going to do it like Rem? How clumsy.”

She said it and began to shake the tip of her sword.

What was this?

It was a skill she hadn’t shown during their sparring. The tip trembled. Soon, the single point that blocked his vision became multiple points.

To block it like Rem, he would have to strike each one individually.

If he repeated and trained, that too would become ingrained in his body.

But that wasn’t the path he would take. He had decided from the beginning.

‘I have to build the process myself.’

He had already taken everything he could from imitating Rem’s method.

“Did you think my techniques looked easy just because you bastards keep breaking them?”

Aisia said.

Her tone held no resentment.

She was surprised by Encrid’s method—guarding by aiming his sword—and she assumed he had been hiding this kind of talent.

Otherwise, how could he have honed his swordsmanship and martial arts to their current level?

In any case, she was a member of the Royal Guard who had risen above the Junior Knight.

She had faced challenges like this countless times. It was familiar.

“If you thought you could stop me with this, change your mind.”

She lowered her sword tip. The scattered points vanished—the trembling directions disappeared.

Instead, she began tapping the ground in place, building a rhythm with her feet. Her orange hair swayed to the beat. Of course, Sword Tip Aiming wasn’t her only weapon.

“Let’s do more.”

She said it like that.

“Obviously.”

Encrid nodded.

Their short exchange ended. Silver, Blazeblade, and the dwarf’s gift cut the air and danced.

On the opposite side, Aisia’s rapier reflected blue light as it thrust, slashed, struck, and sometimes lunged in as if bending.

It was still difficult to block or subdue her without taking injuries.

But now, he could spar with her all day.

Still, the time limit was clear.

For some reason, today ended not at midnight, but when the sun abruptly fell.

Then today would repeat.

He already knew it from experience. That was why he always had to do his best within the time he was given.

“Hoo, hoo… why did your skills suddenly improve?”

Hearing Aisia’s words, Encrid smiled and replied.

“It’s fun.”

“You crazy bastard.”

She laughed as she said it.

She had felt that exhilaration too—swinging her sword recklessly, fighting with her life on the line, risking everything.

“See you again.”

The sun set. Then, today would repeat.

He was blocked. It was a today he couldn’t overcome.

Opening his eyes again, Encrid decided to imitate Jaxson’s method this time.

“Now, next.”

Muttering to himself and steeling his resolve had become a habit.

“What’s next?”

As he loosened his body with Isolation Technique, Andrew asked from the side.

“There’s something.”

After answering vaguely, Encrid began to imitate Jaxson’s method.

The way to overcome Sword Tip Aiming was to strike before it started.

What did that require?

“Prediction. You have to feel your opponent’s reaction right before it starts.”

“How?”

“You can feel the trembling of their eyelashes, the contraction of muscles hidden under their clothes, and so on.”

Easy to say. Really.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Your eyes looked a bit barbaric just now?”

“What are you talking about? You stray cat, that offends me.”

Rem cut in.

“It was the eyes of someone who mixed rotten pollack and eggs, which is not very pleasant.”

Jaxson ignored him and spoke to Encrid, then faced a Throwing Axe.

Whirr—he brought his longsword to the axe as it flew and twisted it. The right force and timing made the axe—seen like a disc—scream as it was deflected straight up.

Clang!

The sound followed in a rapid exchange of attacks and defenses.

Technique was mixed into the block. It was Flowing Sword, sharpened with precision.

After blocking like that, Jaxson said, “Just now, the barbarian’s snort came out faster than usual.”

Was he trying to demonstrate?

He predicted it from a snort?

He had probably done it in the realm of intuition, built from countless experiences.

Encrid watched their bickering and sparring with a flat expression.

Jaxson was always one step ahead.

It was as he said. Beyond the instinct to evade, beyond the instinct to attack—now he had to refine those instincts and intuitions until they matched a single technique.

A sense of prediction.

As he began this new training, learning it again, mastering it again—

“This is really too fun.”

The mutter slipped out again. Seeing that, the ferryman truly wanted to stick out his tongue.

That madman had no boredom, no suffering, no despair.

It was like he was enjoying himself while swinging his sword alone, trapped in a closed space.

No one shared his memories through the repeated todays, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

In fact, Encrid was fine because something shared everything with him.

The process of swinging the sword, the path he was taking, the skill he was accumulating, everything that changed—those were his measure. His joy.

He was fine because he shared the sword and today.

So he imitated Jaxson’s technique as well.

After laying his hands on Ragna’s technique too, he continued the fight, saying he would face her with something other than Sword Tip Aiming.

Encrid’s sword brushed Aisia’s Adam’s apple.

To be precise, he blocked with Blazeblade and drew Silver, making an unpredictable horizontal slash.

Pick—

A sliver of skin tore, and blood droplets spurted out. The scene moved in slow motion.

He still had strength. He could push forward. He knew it.

But his heart didn’t tell him to.

‘It touched.’

But he couldn’t kill her.

If he pushed forward, he would be hit somewhere too—but it was a moment when he could have killed her.

If he was lucky, it would leave a hole in his shoulder. If he was unlucky, a fatal wound.

Even so, it was clearly an opportunity to kill her, and Encrid stopped.

That opportunity didn’t come again.

Clang!

Their swords met and their positions flipped. Aisia stood where Encrid had been, and Encrid stood where she had been.

Blood ran down her lowered arm.

“If an opportunity comes, you have to seize it.”

It was something they both knew. Encrid didn’t answer.

Aisia sheathed her sword.

“Let’s stop here. I’ll let you go if you just check one thing behind me. Maybe the reason you came here will be meaningless too.”

Encrid still didn’t answer.

Aisia passed by him, defenseless. She had even sheathed her sword.

After she left, he sat there blankly as time passed.

Then, after a while, today ended.

Just like dozens of todays that had ended the same way.

Blackout.

He passed through darkness and opened his eyes to the purple lamp.

It was the ferryman.

On the rowboat, the ferryman opened his mouth.

“That’s the wall.”

He was uncharacteristically kind. It made sense.

“Didn’t I say it would be fun?”

The ferryman continued.

Of course, it wasn’t fun for Encrid at all.