Chapter 418

Krys walked up to Encrid and knelt on one knee. Still kneeling, he raised one arm and bowed his head, his posture solemn and dignified.

It looked like he was swearing a knight’s oath of loyalty. And the words that came from his mouth weren’t much different.

“I will serve you with all my heart.”

Encrid stared at Krys. He knew this guy, at least to some extent.

‘Was it because of what he had done? Ending the civil war? Was he moved by that, so now he was swearing loyalty?’

Ridiculous.

Krang had given Encrid the position of general in place of a noble title, and with it, handed over all the territory in this region.

‘Even though the Border Guards aren’t small, either.’

If someone governed and managed the whole fief, how much could they line their pockets?

Krys, still kneeling, stared at the dirt floor. To him, the grains of dirt looked like grains of gold.

This wasn’t a dirt floor. It was a floor of gold.

‘A great fiefdom. How many corners are there where Krong could come from?’

He didn’t even need to raise taxes. Under the general’s name, if he connected the trade routes of all the cities and took commissions from merchant groups…

He didn’t need bribes, either. If he built trade routes on a larger scale, then invested in the Rockfreed Merchant Group or other rising merchant groups to hold shares…

He could make an enormous amount.

And if he earned that much, what would he do?

The answer was already decided.

Krys had already laid out the stages of his dream. First, a small salon. Then a whole salon street. And ultimately…

‘A city of pleasure.’

A city filled with nothing but things to enjoy.

Food, drink, even clothing would all be handled through merchants, and inside, people would do nothing but indulge in pleasure.

Krys’s Salon City.

Krys’s dream was no less than Encrid’s.

Because it meant building an entire city just to play.

And it wasn’t completely without merit.

Creating a city required an astronomical amount of money, but it wasn’t an investment that ended there. He expected returns beyond the initial cost.

Who in the world didn’t want to play?

Especially if he built a place where those overflowing with gold coins-powerful figures, merchant guild owners, and the like-could gather and indulge?

If the pleasures one could only taste at a grand noble’s banquet could be enjoyed anytime in Krys’s Salon City…

‘This can work.’

What he needed was capital.

Krong. Gold coins.

His original plan was to make money quickly and start by opening a small salon in the capital, but if he could earn even more and immediately build a castle and create a city…

“…Hey, eyes.”

Lost in his swelling dream, Krys finally heard the voice calling him and raised his head.

Encrid met Big Eyes’s gaze. In those huge eyes, ambition burned like hellfire.

“…Alright. Serve with all your heart.”

He wasn’t the type to listen if told to stop.

Encrid realized it again.

In the Madman Company, the only sane one was him.

“Ah. His Majesty sent a gift.”

Krys quickly composed himself, rose, and continued.

“Two sets of drake-scale armor, an ingot of Lewis Mountain iron and enough darksteel for one sword, and the famous sword Aker. I thought it might be good to have it appraised, just in case.”

‘His Majesty’ meant Krang.

So even while stripping the national treasury bare, he had set aside these things for Encrid.

‘Is this really okay?’

For a moment, Encrid thought that, because the items were so valuable.

But for Krang, it was only natural.

“Isn’t it natural to take care of my people first? It’s not even unreasonable.”

Drake-scale armor was famous for being easy to move in, yet harder than ordinary plate.

Lewis Mountain iron was even harder to obtain than Valerian Mountain steel.

It was far lighter than ordinary iron, yet as hard as Valerian Mountain steel.

Darksteel was a metal you couldn’t buy even with five times its weight in gold.

Its nickname was ‘The Trial Given by God.’

It was five times heavier than ordinary steel, but it had every advantage: strength, malleability, and more.

If not for its weight, darksteel would have been a gift from God-but that weight was precisely the problem.

If it wasn’t forged properly for the right use, it was meaningless, so it was usually reserved for inscribed weapons, specialized arms used by knights.

Of course, Uber Mountain darksteel was considered the finest, but darksteel from any region was still something an ordinary person would never see in their lifetime.

And finally, Aker.

‘Wasn’t that a royal treasure?’

Even Encrid had heard the name.

Aker was a famous sword said to have been wielded by a knight of a previous age.

The tale of it cleaving a giant-made stone gate with a casual slash, without even putting in force, had become a fairy tale itself-there was no one who didn’t know it.

“I was wondering if he sent these while bankrupting the national treasury.”

At Krys’s words, Encrid nodded. Krang was already in the middle of draining the treasury to deal with the financial strain left by the civil war.

They were incredible items, but since they were being offered, there was no reason not to accept. Encrid nodded readily.

“I have a lot to say. A whole lot.”

Ruagarne, who came up afterward, spoke. Her eyes burned just as fiercely as Krys’s.

Of course they did.

She was weak to the unknown.

‘How can it be like this?’

Even seeing it, she couldn’t believe it. No genius could grow like this.

Especially because, through the eyes of talent discernment, Encrid’s talent was still meager.

Even if it had improved, it had improved only slightly-still within the same range. Ruagarne had never said it aloud, but among the talent discernment gifts bestowed on Frok, hers went beyond excellence, bordering on the mysterious.

So she could see not only what he had accumulated, but what he would accumulate in the future.

Encrid always seemed to have stepped half a foot beyond his limits.

He was running beyond the ceiling of his talent.

And in that state, he had become a master who could stand at the top even among Junior Knights.

‘How did he do it?’

Ruagarne felt a desire for a subject flare like never before. The unknown was moving vividly right in front of her.

Encrid wasn’t burdened by her gaze. Just as he’d been indifferent when Lierbart spoke of frustration and despair, he also passed over this without much thought. Instead, he asked how she had come here.

“My covenant was with the Queen. It’s over now.”

Originally, she should have left to seek other unknowns, but there was something right here that she couldn’t believe even while seeing, and couldn’t understand no matter how hard she tried.

Coming here was inevitable-fate. Ruagarne believed that.

“Why? If you need it, shall I make a covenant?”

Ruagarne meant it. Even if it bound her to the man before her for life-even if he demanded spiritual love-she intended to accept.

“No need.”

Encrid saw no reason for that. Other thoughts were already filling his head.

“Were you disappointed that I came first?”

At Elf Commander Sinar’s words, Encrid looked at her and asked.

“Did what you went for go well?”

At that, Sinar smiled. It was rare for her to smile. Those who knew her were startled, but Encrid remained indifferent.

“Were you worried?”

“It went well, then.”

That was it. Sinar returned to her usual cold, expressionless face, as if proving she wasn’t human, and Ruagarne followed behind Encrid.

On the way in, Encrid sank into deep thought. Seeing that, Rem tapped his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?”

Encrid, frowning in concentration, answered.

“When going from a diagonal slash to a thrust, if I stop for a beat and then use Will of Moment’s acceleration, what happens?”

The sudden shift in speed after a brief stop would throw off the opponent’s eyes, and going from slow to fast would break the rhythm and make it feel even faster. Blocking would become harder.

“…That’s all you’ve been thinking about this whole time?”

Rem asked.

“Of course.”

Was there anything more urgent than that?

Encrid asked with his eyes.

“It’s not for nothing that we’re the Madman Company.”

Rem thought the foremost madman was the man in front of him, and Encrid wondered why Rem was saying that now. Wasn’t it like spitting on your own face while lying down?

“If you do that, your tendons will snap, or your muscles will tear.”

Using [Will] meant overexerting the body.

If you stopped in the middle of a fast slashing motion and then thrust explosively again, it wasn’t overexertion anymore. It was asking to wreck your body.

“Do it moderately. Moderately. If you understand, nod. Moderately. Moderately.”

Rem repeated the word over and over.

Audin, listening from the side, smiled brightly and added.

“Special training will be needed, Brother General.”

No one changed titles faster than Audin. He said ‘general’ like it was nothing.

“Special training?”

Encrid was interested. Audin was pleased. It was also the first time in his life someone had responded to his training like this.

He remembered those he had instructed in the past.

– “Please spare me.”

– “Is today finally the day you will meet Father Lord?”

– “…Are you serious? You’re going to crank up the training intensity here? Fine. Let’s just fight instead.”

Remembering that, and now…

“What kind of training?”

This time, there was someone showing not just interest, but enthusiasm.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t satisfied. And the man before him advanced more uprightly and straightforwardly than anyone.

When Audin heard what this man had done in the civil war, he felt a thrill.

‘Father Lord, I wish to ask.’

Was this man an incarnation sent by You, because You could no longer bear the poverty and malice of this land?

He had been that impressive.

When he didn’t retreat and instead advanced before the last wave of Wraiths, Audin had nearly cried.

And the enemy had been a minion possessed by a demon.

This was clearly divine providence.

Audin pushed aside the stray thoughts and spoke.

“The tempering of the body has no end. To temper it like steel, we used the striking method, right? This time, it’s a method to cultivate control over the body.”

The striking method was the practice of striking the body with a steel hammer. Encrid had been doing it consistently, but it was hard to say he’d seen clear results yet.

Not that it was tedious. Where would such things be rare?

Even if the effects didn’t appear immediately, doing his best today and repeating it endlessly-that was the only thing Encrid had.

“Control?”

Encrid asked back.

He had already mastered moving his body to the point of swinging his sword while flipping through the air.

Because the level of a Junior Knight was no joke.

Even those called masters of martial arts would properly bow their heads before a Junior Knight.

“If you cannot handle each and every strand of muscle as you wish, how can you call that your own body?”

Audin said.

Pell, listening beside them, blinked several times.

‘Is that kind of training necessary?’

Pell was a genius too, so he couldn’t help wondering.

For most, it was something that naturally settled into the body. Not something you learned separately.

Rem and Ragna had no doubts. Were their captain’s strange traits only one or two?

For example, Rem could do the trick Encrid described-stopping, then exploding forward again.

But Encrid couldn’t.

Because Audin-who watched bodies, assessed their condition, and confirmed control through movement-knew exactly what Encrid lacked.

As his sword grew more refined, the things he could attempt increased.

Soon he would be able to perform movements approaching divine skill, beyond mere tricks.

What more was needed? Making the body endure it. Making it so that even if he performed the movement he’d drawn in his mind, he wouldn’t feel strain.

What came naturally to those called geniuses did not come naturally to Encrid.

“Good.”

Of course, Encrid didn’t care about any of that.

He was simply satisfied that there was something new to temper.

From the evening he returned to the Border Guards, Encrid tempered his body.

Two days later, a blacksmith arrived from the capital.

A man second to none in the blacksmiths’ guild, called Iron and True Gold.

“Not just anyone can handle darksteel.”

There was also the King’s request, but hearing he was forging a weapon for the hero who saved the nation, he had set aside all other work and come.

Encrid told them to take whatever they wanted from the gifts, and kept only the famous sword.

The moment he gripped Aker, Encrid knew.

‘It’s my sword.’

When Encrid, uncharacteristically, voiced his impression, Rem replied.

“That’s how it is. When you grab something expensive and good, it all starts feeling like it was made for you.”

It wasn’t wrong.

From the moment he’d held them, both Silver and the Valerian Mountain steel sword had felt like his own weapons.

In any case, Aker was an inscribed weapon, said to have been used by a knight of a previous generation.

The sword had even taken its name from that knight’s name, so Encrid was satisfied.

“Give me the Lewis Mountain iron ingot.”

Rem coveted the iron.

And Ragna, spotting the darksteel, claimed it.

“I’ll take this.”

“Alright.”

Encrid had no reason to stop them.

“You have no intention of selling it, right?”

Krys asked, watching, but everyone ignored him.

Why would they sell it?

They were people who didn’t care about Krong.

Krys felt a little sour.

Of course, Aker couldn’t be sold, but if they sold the Lewis Mountain iron ingot or darksteel, he could raise more than half the capital needed to open a salon in the capital.

‘No. If I sold it, I’d get even more.’

But what could he do?

He had to accept it as their reward.

And because of that, the artisan from the capital had to deal with Rem and Ragna.

“If we make a spear shaft from ironwood and forge a spearhead from the Lewis Mountain iron, it will become an unparalleled weapon.”

“Let’s make an axe.”

“If the axe head has more weight toward the head than the handle, if it becomes too light-”

“I think it would be good if you make it as a single piece. Handle length about this much. Make two axes.”

Rem spread his hands to show the length. It was still a hand axe, just with a long handle.

The artisan wondered what kind of man this was. Looking into Rem’s eyes, he saw the face of a savage with a hint of laughter.

He didn’t seem stubborn, but he gave the impression that if things didn’t go his way, he’d throw a fit.

He decided to postpone persuading Rem and turned to the other one.

“For darksteel, it’s best to forge it as a dagger, or mix it only at the blade tip. If you balance it as a dagger, it won’t feel as heavy as you think. And if you apply it to the blade-let’s see. You could make twenty swords with this. If you make spears, you could make over thirty!”

“A greatsword, about this size.”

Ragna stated what he wanted and didn’t listen.

“It’s manticore leather. I’m thinking of wrapping the hilt with it.”

The artisan looked into Ragna’s eyes.

They were eyes that had no intention of listening to anything but his own desire.

‘This one isn’t normal, either.’

The artisan’s assistant watched cautiously. Usually, his master would explode if his advice wasn’t heeded.

That master said only one thing.

“Alright, then.”

He lowered his tail before madness.

There was no medicine for a madman.

“Master?”

The assistant blurted out in surprise.

“Stoke the fire.”

At the order, the apprentice stepped on the bellows of the borrowed forge.

The master watched the blazing flames in silence.

Even if those two didn’t listen to his counsel, this was still a challenge.

Because forging weapons in the shapes they demanded would be difficult unless he poured out every ounce of skill.

A darksteel greatsword, and solid Lewis Mountain iron axes.

When would he ever get the chance to make something like this again?

The artisan poured his heart and soul into the work.

(T/N: Where’s Jaxson’s reward? Why do i feel that he will leave soon 🙁 )