Chapter 424

Just as Rem had made his resolve, the others also experienced shifts in their state of mind.

That was inevitable.

“Hah!”

From morning until night.

Whether it rained or snowed, whether the weather was sticky or not.

When you see some bastard swinging his sword like a madman every single day, it is only natural for all sorts of thoughts to start creeping in.

If Rem had found a catalyst that solidified his resolve,

then Ragna, for his part, began to reflect on his own talents once more.

From the stance of [Observation], he examined his inner self.

‘What do I have?’

First, there was his talent for finding shortcuts. That truly was exceptional.

Finding paths was not the sort of talent that needed recognition from others, either.

‘Not that I plan to make a living as a Pathfinder.’

Ragna had actually worked as a Pathfinder before, but everyone who hired him even once had ended up thoroughly fed up with him.

A Pathfinder disgustingly good at fighting, yet unable to tell east from west. A madman.

There were even misunderstandings that he deliberately sought out places where Fiends or Magical Beasts appeared.

The Pathfinder Guild used to tremble just hearing the name Ragna.

So that Pathfinder talent could be set aside.

‘Next?’

The sword. Swordsmanship. His innate talent had not gone anywhere, and there were things you could know even without anyone telling you.

Just as with his talent as a Pathfinder, he had a certain degree of talent for the sword.

‘Then what am I lacking?’

Knowing what he was good at was enough.

Even if he lacked nothing as a Pathfinder, swordsmanship was a different matter.

If there had been no shortcomings, no blockage, then he should already have reached the level of a Knight.

But that was not the case. He was blocked. He could even feel the flow of his swordsmanship being cut off.

That meant there was something missing.

Although he may have looked lazy to others lately, Ragna had in fact been observing his inner self.

After reflecting on himself like that and arriving at one conclusion, he moved.

‘Fundamentals.’

Swinging, cutting, thrusting. All of it.

Ragna started from the basics of physical training and retraced his steps in reverse, walking back along the path he had already trodden.

Even if his pathfinding was hopeless, even Ragna could still walk back by following the footprints he himself had pressed into the ground.

Then something inside him asked:

“Why do you want to become a Knight?”

In the past, he might have been unable to answer that question and stopped there.

“Because only by becoming a Knight can I see what lies beyond.”

Ragna now waited for what lay ahead. He had a nearer goal as well.

The Knight who had come from Azpen.

He had to defeat him.

That meant Ragna had changed just as much as Rem had in terms of resolve.

Jaxson had no particular reason to undergo any shift in mindset.

Had he not already made up his mind?

Instead, he was busy. He had to run around nonstop. If he failed to persuade the guild members, there were plenty of bastards ready to poison Encrid’s food at any moment.

Meanwhile, Encrid kept swinging his sword.

Watching the path of that sword, Frok murmured in admiration.

“Clean.”

It was that kind of fundamental technique, as if repeated thousands upon thousands of times over many years.

In Ruagarne’s eyes, if one considered fundamentals alone, she had never seen anyone like Encrid before.

‘Isn’t that too obvious a statement?’

Ruagarne thought to herself. After considering it a little, it really did seem too obvious.

Geniuses are born with talent, so even with the same movement, after trying it a few times, they quickly grasp its principle, interpret it, and often reshape it.

‘Then can it be said he has mastered it completely?’

A flashy talent reveals shortcuts, but that is not always a good thing.

Without effort, even a genius is merely consumed by their own talent.

Ruagarne had seen many such unfortunate people as well.

Then what is needed?

Perseverance. Talent without perseverance was like the chirping of a bird that made no sound.

Where did that terrifying perseverance come from?

‘What is the source that makes a person repeat something without even thinking about boredom or tedium?’

“Hoo.”

Exhaling from deep in his lungs, Encrid brought his sword down.

A movement tracing exactly the same path as the one before it.

It was not a sword swung while imagining a sparring partner in his mind.

It was simply a daily downward strike, to the point of monotony. That was how it looked to Ruagarne, yet heat rose from Encrid’s body.

A passion that could never come from something boring.

It was the kind of passion only someone intoxicated by joy could possess.

‘A strange man. Always a strange man.’

Now she could see things she had not noticed before because she had not observed him closely enough.

He does not feel boredom because swinging the sword itself is enjoyable. He simply enjoys swinging the sword.

He was practically insane.

Just as Krang, whose nickname King of Mourning was spreading more and more, had said:

“He’s a bastard who’s barely human.”

Ruagarne silently agreed.

Her eyes followed Encrid throughout the whole day.

Observing and probing every action the man before her took, that was her task.

And through that, Ruagarne also saw the people who were changing.

‘Recognizing your own shortcomings and seeking them out is not a talent.’

That required a catalyst. It needed stimulation.

In that regard, the stimulant called Encrid was fair to everyone.

The same went for Pell.

Pell took pride in his own talent.

He observed and assessed everyone just as much as Ruagarne did.

And he paid particular attention to Encrid.

‘Mad bastard.’

There was no such thing as rest time. No, he did see him rest when he said he was resting, but even that did not look like rest.

It was impressive enough that he showed no boredom in the repetitive training of daily life, but this bastard looked as though he were staking his life on every single training session.

“I do my best.”

A lot of people say that.

‘But he’s the first real mad bastard I’ve seen.’

Not just in words. He truly repeated such a day every single day.

He lived each day as if he were burning the candle of his soul just to light up the world around him. Pell himself was not negligent in training, but to live like that every day?

Swallowing hard, Pell made up his mind as well.

‘If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it that way too.’

He had not come all this way just to get cursed at by the elders of the Shepherds of the Wilds for nothing.

Pell quietly devoted himself to training alongside his observations.

Roford, who could be said to be in a similar position, acted in the exact opposite way.

“Let’s spar!”

It was something unimaginable to anyone who knew the old Roford.

He had originally been the type to move according to other people’s opinions rather than his own will, always mindful of how others looked at him, but now he simply ignored other people’s eyes and acted first.

“Do you really want to die?”

Ragna asked Roford with deadly seriousness. He was completely serious.

“Don’t kill him.”

Encrid, who was swinging his sword nearby, said.

Roford was like a small bird that had just broken out of its egg and was greeting a new world.

‘He can’t be serious.’

That was how Roford took Ragna’s words. Until now, he had often misunderstood others by guessing at their true intentions on his own.

But he would not do that anymore.

That was why he was not swayed by their banter.

Determination soon becomes will.

“I want to fight to the death!”

“Even like this?”

At that, Ragna asked indifferently.

“Don’t kill him.”

Encrid shook his head.

Roford did not let his will be broken by the comedy duo. Those two really did love joking around.

So naturally, getting beaten black and blue was entirely his own fault.

Roford did not stop there. Even after groaning in pain for days, he quickly got back up again.

“Lady Teresa, let’s spar!”

Roford challenged anyone and everyone without discrimination.

“I will not send you to the Lord.”

Teresa nodded. Recently, she too had gained a small realization.

It was after seeing several sparring partners come looking for Encrid. There truly had been all kinds.

From mercenary riffraff to some noble’s bodyguard who could not believe the rumors, to warriors from other countries and wandering swordsmen from the East.

Although Frok Maelrun was in the city and dealt with most of the troublemakers, some still made it all the way to the barracks.

After all, not even a Frok named Maelrun had two bodies.

Encrid dealt with them personally, and Teresa inwardly nodded as she watched.

A lion gives its all even when hunting a rabbit.

Encrid never held back against anyone.

He drew Aker and used [Will of the Moment]. That spear-like thrust resembled a single streak of [Lightning Flash].

She acted as Encrid did.

She swung her shield into the charging Roford. It was a shield bash infused with the strength of a Half-Giant.

Thwack!

“Guhk!”

Roford’s neck snapped sideways as he was sent flying, rolled across the ground three times, and finally came to a stop. He lost consciousness on the spot. If Teresa had put just a little more force into it, he would have been knocking on heaven’s door.

“Are you trying to kill him?”

Seeing that, Encrid asked.

“I merely gave it my all, since I had entered a spar.”

The Half-Giant Teresa answered, her fighting spirit plainly visible. Her eyes made it clear she was ready to fight.

She was not someone who refused a spar.

“Come at me.”

Encrid did not bother avoiding it either.

If someone had come by and seen this, there would have been no greater mess.

The so-called General, the lord-who-wasn’t-a-lord ruling this place, was always fighting as if to the death.

“Let’s spar!”

The one who looked the weakest challenged anyone he saw.

Some of those who had come seeking sparring matches, impressed by the skills of Encrid and the others, wanted to become members of the unit.

“I wish to remain under the Demon Slayer.”

No one particularly tried to stop them.

But even those people came to their senses after a little time had passed.

“I’ll start with the Border Guards Standing Army. No, wait. You’re telling me to serve under Sir Rem? I was mistaken. I think I’ll farm instead. The Standing Army? I’ll become a farmer.”

Their attitudes changed in an instant.

No matter how much a sane person tried, they could not keep up with that kind of madness.

It was not for nothing that these people were called the Madman Company.

“Spaaaar!”

Roford shouted.

Pell watched with a subtle look in his eyes.

Rem wondered when he would head west.

Jaxson constantly went in and out without rest.

Ragna devoted himself to training his fundamentals like never before.

Audin, too, sometimes went mad pondering his own taboo.

‘Lord, may I release my taboo?’

It was a thought he had often been having lately. Audin simply believed that the Lord would grant him another revelation.

Then there was Dunbakel, after recognizing her own weakness.

An excessive desire to live. That was her weakness. Because of it, she always thought first of turning back and running away.

‘To survive, I had no choice.’

A Beastkin’s survival instinct was sharper than that of other races, and Dunbakel’s had grown even stronger during the days when she had been driven out by her pack.

Why had her desire to live surged up again even after preparing herself for death?

Because she truly did not want to die.

‘I have to overcome this.’

The existence called Encrid was truly peculiar. Just watching him made Dunbakel realize what her own problem was.

And so another ordinary day passed on the training ground.

Pell noticed someone approaching through the three trees near the entrance to the training ground.

It was not a familiar face.

Nor was it the attire of a guard.

A cloth vest, both arms and fists covered in scars, a square jaw, prominent cheekbones, and muscles without a trace of fat. Those were what stood out.

Pell’s gaze instantly swept across the man’s entire body.

“Let me play too.”

The moment Pell saw the man’s lips move, the voice was already there, and his figure suddenly loomed huge.

“Huh!”

Startled, Pell drew Idol Slayer and slashed upward.

How could he not?

The man who had been walking slowly from far away had crossed the distance and appeared right in front of his nose in an instant.

Pell’s instincts made him swing Idol Slayer, and the man slapped the blade aside with his palm.

Slice—

His palm was cut slightly, but that was all.

“That’s a fine blade.”

He merely licked the wound on his hand once with his tongue.

Idol Slayer’s mana failed to display its power.

“You look a little boring.”

The man who had intruded so suddenly spoke and took a step into the training ground.

Encrid stood at the center, with Rem, Ragna, Audin, Teresa, and Dunbakel flanking him to either side.

Roford, who originally had excellent perception but now seemed to have lost all of it, asked,

“Who are you?”

He clearly did not look like an ordinary soldier.

“A passerby.”

That was the answer.

Even though the man had done nothing, Encrid felt pressure from him and recalled someone.

It was a memory dragged up from the realm of instinct.

That opponent had come from Azpen, torn through a tent, and swung his sword.

A Knight, an opponent against whom even blocking a single strike had been a struggle.

“They said the rumors were exaggerated.”

He spoke with his hands hanging loosely at his sides.

He did nothing. He raised no [Will]. Yet there was not a single opening.

But should they retreat because of that?

Encrid raised the sword in his heart.

A blade honed on the whetstone of resolve, which is [Will].

Steeling his heart and straightening his back, he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

It was not only Encrid.

Rem, Ragna, Audin, Dunbakel, and Teresa were the same.

Not one of them looked willing to back down.

The summer heat warmed the air. It was hot enough for heat haze to shimmer.

They were already drenched in sweat from the muggy heat, but the tension chilling the air cut through even that warmth.

In the moment when no one spoke, another person stepped in.

From behind the newly appeared man.

“Please stop fooling around.”

He approached and spoke, but the tension did not break. At first, the man in the vest had created this atmosphere deliberately, but now it had changed.

“See?”

The man in the vest stared fixedly at Encrid.

Now it was that bastard who was maintaining this atmosphere.

The protagonist of the rumors.

The Demon Slayer.