Chapter 65: Those Who Cross

‘He anticipated the enemy’s moves,’ Jaxson thought.

Watching Encrid’s precise and deadly strike brought a strange sense of satisfaction to Jaxson. The techniques he had taught Encrid had been fully utilized, and the sight of it stirred something within him.

He was pleased.

But Jaxson, unaccustomed to introspection, refused to dwell on his emotions. He wasn’t used to thinking about how he felt.

**‘It’s nothing special.’**

To Jaxson, Encrid was just another person—a guy who mattered only as much as anyone who could die right in front of him. Why should he care so much about someone else?

**‘It’s nothing,’** Jaxson told himself.

This military stuff was trivial. He had more important goals in mind.

And yet, the discomfort lingered.

That’s why Jaxson kept his gaze fixed on the guild leader behind Encrid.

**‘I don’t like his face,’** he told himself.

It wasn’t about the squad leader at all. It was just that this scumbag had a face he couldn’t stand.

So if the guy made a move, Jaxson would kill him. That was all there was to it.

—

Rem, on the other hand, had seen Encrid use the *Heart of the Beast* skill he had taught him. Encrid had confidently charged into the enemy’s space, dodging and countering the thrust of the spear. A few months ago, Rem wouldn’t have imagined seeing Encrid fight like this.

He had grown so much in such a short time, and at the core of that improvement was Rem’s own teaching.

**‘No doubt about it.’**

It felt good to know that. But now assassins were targeting Encrid?

**‘I should just kill them all.’**

Rem wasn’t one to overthink. He just wanted to wipe out anyone who had dared to go after his squad leader.

—

Ragnar, meanwhile, watched Encrid’s swordsmanship with a deep sense of recognition.

**‘Where did he learn that?’**

The way Encrid shifted his weight, the precision with which he moved his feet, and the angle of his thrust—all of it was impressive. Even though Ragnar had occasionally sparred with Encrid, to have reached this level of skill required grueling training.

**‘How curious.’**

Encrid, whom Ragnar had once dismissed as talentless, now fought like a true swordsman. Ragnar had always admired Encrid’s determination, and it had become a powerful motivator for him.

Now that assassins and criminals were after Encrid?

**‘It would be easier to just kill them all.’**

For once, Ragnar felt no laziness. He was fully prepared to help eradicate the entire thieves’ guild if necessary, though he would still follow his squad leader’s lead.

—

Audin stood quietly, observing Encrid’s body and tapping his own thigh thoughtfully.

**‘Well-trained.’**

However, Encrid’s physique wasn’t as systematically developed as the monks from the temple. Monks believed that true martial mastery started with building the body.

Audin had refined this philosophy into his own style.

**‘If he focuses on physical conditioning, his skills will improve even more.’**

Encrid was the kind of person who put in the effort and never stopped trying.

Audin couldn’t help but wonder why the gods hadn’t granted more talent to someone so dedicated.

**‘But who am I, a mere mortal, to understand the will of the gods?’**

It was a thought that resonated deeply within him, triggering a familiar pang of regret. The same regret he felt whenever he questioned why the divine had not smiled upon his own efforts.

But here, before him, was someone who was defying fate with sheer determination, without the gods’ favor.

**‘Oh, Lord,’** Audin prayed silently.

**‘Watch over this man who strives to shine. Don’t let him fall to a blind blade.’**

Audin didn’t want Encrid to meet an unfair end, struck down by some cowardly assassin. He had no desire to kill anyone, though.

**‘Breaking their legs will do, and the leader can lose an arm or two.’**

They didn’t need to die, after all.

—

**One move.**

The impact of Encrid’s swift kill was palpable.

And yet, none of the criminals crossed the line he had drawn in the dirt.

**‘Not enough, huh?’**

Encrid realized that to fully dominate them, he would have to shock them again.

But there was no need for him to act alone.

“Rem.”

“Yes?”

“Kill three of them.”

Despite any pretense of avoiding conflict, this was an operation, and Encrid was still the squad leader.

Rem didn’t hesitate. Encrid’s earlier display hadn’t even fully sunk in yet.

Spinning his twin hand axes in his palms, Rem disappeared from sight, moving so fast that it seemed as if he had vanished.

A moment later, Rem was standing before a thug with a spiked club and a vicious scowl.

This was a scene they had all seen before. Rem’s arm swung like a whip, and the axe in his hand gleamed as it cut through the air.

*Whang!* *Crack!*

*Thunk!*

The first swing severed the neck of the thug with the spiked club.

The second split open the skull of the thug to his right.

The final strike slammed the handle of the axe into the throat of the thug on the left, breaking his neck.

Rem casually flicked the blood from his axes before turning his back on the rest of the thieves and striding back to Encrid.

“Three dead.”

Encrid figured that two consecutive shocks were enough. Now the criminals had one last chance.

“Anyone else want to cross the line?”

It was the third time he had offered this choice.

He wouldn’t give them another. Those who still refused to surrender would meet their end.

This was an age where death was common. If they wanted to kill him, they had to accept the possibility of dying themselves.

“Are you from the Border Guard?”

The guild leader asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No.”

Encrid didn’t see any reason to hide the truth.

“I’m a soldier in the Cypress Division of the Border Guard.”

He spoke calmly, gripping his sword loosely at his side.

The men who had been wavering began to lower their weapons, but the guild leader shot them a murderous glare.

“If any of you so much as think about giving up, I’ll make sure you don’t live long enough to regret it.”

His threat was directed at his own men.

Krys’s words from earlier echoed in Encrid’s mind.

Gilpin ruled through fear. If one of his men stepped out of line, he’d break their limbs and cut out their tongues.

“Don’t be cowards! They’re human, just like us. No armor, nothing! They’re soft. If we rush them, they’ll fall like anyone else!”

Encrid acknowledged the guild leader’s reasoning. In most cases, overwhelming numbers would be an effective strategy.

Soldiers were most effective when fighting in formation as a unit. In small skirmishes, even a well-trained soldier could be vulnerable.

A thug could stab a soldier in the back if the conditions were right.

Of course, this logic didn’t apply to knights or people who had surpassed the limits of ordinary humans.

And it certainly didn’t apply here.

“Don’t do it.”

Encrid warned them.

The members of his squad were not ordinary soldiers. They were the kind who thrived in chaotic battles, fighting large groups of enemies and returning unscathed.

For them, thirty armed thugs weren’t a challenge.

“Leave them alone,” Rem added with a smirk. “Sometimes, people need to see a coffin before they start crying.”

Audin stepped forward, too.

“Perhaps now is the time for divine punishment.”

“Why don’t you just stand back and watch?” Ragnar chimed in lazily, but even he seemed eager.

Jaxson said nothing. He simply drew his sword and stepped forward.

A thug on the other side rushed at him, swinging a broad scimitar.

With a smooth motion, Jaxson caught the downward slash with his sword and deflected it, letting the scimitar slide harmlessly past him. He countered with a swift, clean cut across the thug’s abdomen.

*Slice.*

The thug collapsed, clutching his spilling guts.

That was the beginning.

“Kill only those who attack.”

Encrid commanded.

Rem stayed where he was, swinging his axe only when enemies came too close. But even from a stationary position, he was a whirlwind of death.

A thug tried to swing a flail at Rem, only for his weapon to be severed in half mid-swing. The next moment, Rem’s axe crushed his skull, spraying blood and brain matter as the body fell backward.

Ragnar, wielding a single arming sword, swung in a repetitive, mechanical fashion. His strikes were simple but deadly. Each time he brought his sword down, another enemy fell, their heads split open or shoulders severed.

Audin, on the other hand, wielded his twin clubs, smashing any weapon that came near him with loud, bone-shattering impacts.

*Crack!*

His clubs broke a thug’s leg, sending him to the ground screaming in pain.

Despite the brutality, Audin took the time to give advice as he fought.

“I don’t ask you to be saints, but you should refrain from harming your neighbors.”

His words were lost on his victims as he shattered their limbs.

Encrid, meanwhile, watched intently as his squad fought. He absorbed their movements, watching how each one handled their opponents with such efficiency and precision.

At first, Encrid’s focus was drawn to Jaxson’s swordsmanship. His movements were deliberate and measured. **‘Jaxson’s using the *True Sword Form,*’** Encrid realized. Jaxson’s technique allowed him to guide his opponent’s weapon, countering perfectly in each exchange. The simplicity masked its deadliness—every move was designed to kill efficiently.

Jaxson’s calm, collected style stood in stark contrast to Rem’s wild yet calculated aggression. Rem’s axe swung in wide arcs, cutting through enemies with seemingly reckless abandon, but Encrid noticed the subtleties. **‘His axe movements form unexpected patterns,’** Encrid thought, amazed. Rem was using a fighting style that couldn’t easily be categorized. It was instinctual and raw, like watching a force of nature in action.

**‘The *Axe of Chaos,*’** Encrid mused. He could almost give Rem’s style a name of its own.

Then there was Ragnar. His sword strikes weren’t fancy, but they were devastatingly effective. Each downward swing had the weight of finality. **‘This is the pinnacle of basic swordsmanship,’** Encrid thought. **‘Ragnar shows what happens when you master the fundamentals.’**

Encrid’s attention shifted to Audin, whose mastery of martial arts was perhaps the most impressive. Using two short clubs, Audin moved with agility and precision, breaking bones with each swing. His attacks were brutal but controlled, perfectly executed to disable without killing. **‘The foundation of all swordsmanship lies in understanding body mechanics,’** Encrid recalled a lesson from the past. Watching Audin now made that principle clearer than ever.

**‘There’s so much I can learn from them.’** Encrid realized that even though he had improved significantly, he still had room to grow by observing his comrades. Each had their own strengths that he could study and, one day, incorporate into his own style.

The fight didn’t last long.

As the bodies of the thieves piled up, the few remaining men who hadn’t fled or been killed began to lose their will to fight. Some dropped their weapons entirely, choosing to surrender rather than face certain death.

Throughout the battle, Jaxson had remained single-minded in his approach. He had fought his way directly toward the guild leader, cutting down anyone who stood in his path.

When he finally reached his target, he didn’t hesitate.

Jaxson swung his sword downward in a clean, deliberate motion, aiming directly for the guild leader’s head. The leader reacted quickly, pulling a hidden blade from his cane—a swordstick—and deflecting Jaxson’s attack.

**“Don’t interfere.”** Rem and Ragnar stepped forward, preventing the guild leader’s guards from assisting him.

The two guards, seeing the carnage Rem and Ragnar had left in their wake, exchanged a look of resignation. They lowered their weapons and knelt, surrendering without a fight.

“**Cowards!**” the guild leader shouted, furious that his men had given up. But even he couldn’t change the reality before him—his gang had been decimated, and his remaining forces had lost the will to fight.

Jaxson’s eyes were cold, his brown irises tinted with a hint of red. He spoke in a low, calm voice, **“I surrender,”** the guild leader blurted out, his voice panicked. “**I’ll pay you! I’ll give you as much gold as you want! Just—”**

Jaxson didn’t give him a chance to finish.

With a series of rapid strikes, Jaxson’s blade clashed against the guild leader’s swordstick, sparks flying with each impact.

*Clang! Clang! Clang!*

The leader desperately tried to block, but Jaxson’s sword was relentless, striking faster and faster until—

*Shhk.*

The final blow cut through the guild leader’s neck.

“**I don’t like your face,**” Jaxson muttered coldly.

The guild leader’s eyes widened in shock as his head rolled to the ground. His mouth opened and closed in a futile attempt to speak. Even in death, he looked as though he had more to say. He had powerful allies, and he had spent a fortune in bribes. To him, this ending was unjust—he had so much more to give and to gain.

But none of that mattered now.

He was dead.

Jaxson’s sword dripped with blood, hanging loosely at his side as the battle finally came to an end.

By the time Encrid opened his eyes again, the last of the fighting had ceased. The room was littered with bodies, and those who had survived stood trembling, their weapons dropped at their feet.

It was time to wrap things up.

Encrid took a step forward, finding himself standing in the very center of the room. The torches burned low, casting long shadows across the scene of carnage. The freezing winter air bit at his skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the battle that had just ended.

With everyone’s attention on him, Encrid spoke the words that sealed their fate.

**“Anyone else want to cross the line?”**

There was no hesitation this time.

One by one, the remaining thieves dropped their weapons and crossed the line Encrid had drawn in the dirt, surrendering without a word.