Ragna was surprised but felt neither jealousy nor envy. He had seen his captain's beginnings and had been with him until now—what was there to be jealous about?
"You drew intangible force into tangible form."
Ragna concisely explained what he had seen. Enkrid understood, but if asked to do it again right now, he wasn't confident he could.
'I don't get the feeling.'
Honestly, he didn't even know how he had done it just now. It felt like a dream. Should he call this luck?
A moment of fortune that came after swinging his sword tens of thousands of times?
They say the goddess of fortune rides the wind and cannot be caught. It's a continental saying that luck always passes by without staying.
It felt like luck, but Enkrid immediately denied that thought.
'There was no such luck. It's not luck.'
That was what the time he had accumulated, the days he had spent swinging his sword every single day, was telling Enkrid.
So what he needed to do now was reflect and review. As he had said before, today wouldn't be the only day.
Briefly reflecting on the recent exchange, he realized that Alexandra had accelerated once more in the middle.
'She accelerated midway to add variation to her speed.'
It was movement beyond calculation. Wave-Blocking Sword recognized based on what the opponent showed and produced results through calculation.
Since speed increased even more in already extremely fast sword work, this could truly be called an unexpected strike.
'I never even thought it was possible to swing a sword at that speed.'
If there had been just a bit more wasted movement in her trajectory.
If the angle of her blade had been even slightly off.
If his judgment speed had been just a bit slower.
If his body's reaction had been just a bit duller.
'I would have died.'
Death had brushed past him.
He also realized that there had been intent from his opponent in all of this, and within that intent was consideration and gratitude.
'It's like forced movement.'
Alexandra had the specialty of overwhelming opponents with speed. Looking at it now, she wasn't simply forcing movements.
'Speaking before striking was similar too.'
She had spoken to him to heighten his concentration. When Enkrid used desperation as a weapon to speak, she mixed killing intent into her response to further boost his elation.
With just a few words, she confirmed the state of his concentration too.
"Look at this bastard? He's not listening to me?"
Like that.
The first thrust that wounded his cheek was similar. She had seen how his body would react in a critical situation.
Alexandra was also the one who showed him that making clumsy moves would mean death.
She told him not to do half-hearted things when he was slower than her.
To swing purely one sword, so that accumulated desperation would respond to today.
She had guided and induced him to swing that one time. Of course, even within such consideration, his life had hung in the balance.
'I would have died if I couldn't keep up.'
This was an unchanging truth.
"How many people have died during sparring?"
"Mother?"
Ragna asked back and shook his head.
"None that I know of."
Ragna had left home when he was young. Enkrid's gaze sought Grida. She would know.
But among the spectators, Grida was nowhere to be seen, and he only saw his companions walking with the family head.
Enkrid's gaze lingered briefly on Anne's back before falling away. He could see the family head and Anne just passing through the brick wall behind the training ground and going inside.
Alexandra glanced back briefly but said nothing.
"Ragna, follow Anne."
"Yes, let's do that."
Enkrid said, and Ragna casually followed Anne. This was foreign territory. Whatever she wanted, it would be better to have at least one familiar face beside her.
Well, there were other reasons too, but only when keeping all possibilities open.
While he was continuing these thoughts. Tap tap, someone approached with the sound of footsteps.
"Hey there, guest."
It was a man who wore six swords dangling from his belt and showed clear signs of excitement. His hands were wrapped tightly with old cloth, and thick cloth was also wrapped around his forehead.
His waist belt and shins were also bound with similar crimson cloth. The cloth was old but clean.
With six swords strapped on, he might have looked raggedly dressed, but he didn't appear particularly messy.
This was probably due to his straight posture and the stance that could extend any of the six swords at any time, along with the subtle neatness felt within.
'He would prefer clean movements.'
That was the scent he gave off. It was the result of observation while he approached and spoke.
"You'll do. I can see it all in my eyes."
The man said suddenly.
At those words, a man who looked at least ten years older than Enkrid shook his head from behind.
"Take it with a grain of salt. This fellow's intuition is rarely correct."
It was a mature voice. The first thing that caught his eye was a sword sheath engraved with intricate patterns. Next were things like the thick calluses firmly embedded in his grip, the gap between his legs being ready to move at any time, and how his breathing sounds weren't easily heard.
'Both of them are formidable.'
That was his immediate assessment. Of course, actual combat results couldn't be recklessly predicted.
For instance, even if Alexandra or the family head were his opponents, things could change once actual combat began.
That's the nature of life-and-death battles.
Well, for the same reason, he couldn't easily say his own odds of winning were high either.
"I'm Heskal, and this is—"
The man who had been shaking his head spoke first.
"I'll introduce myself. You icy bastard. My name is Rynox. Looking for the best fighter in the Zaun family? That's not me. Instead, I'm the most romantic person."
The man with six swords continued. Calling himself the most romantic person didn't look particularly normal, but Enkrid wasn't flustered by this much.
Didn't he have years of steadfastly maintaining his identity as the sole normal person among a group of madmen?
"Enkrid of the Border Guard."
At that answer, the man called Heskal extended his hand. Enkrid clasped that hand.
"My greetings are late. I welcome you to Zaun."
Rynox added with a grin.
"Welcome, my ass. Get yourself together. You still want to run around more, right? Alex enjoys suddenly overwhelming people, but I don't."
"It won't be a bad experience."
Hearing what the two said, Enkrid felt that these two's status was no less than the family head's.
Neither sought permission from the family head, nor did they particularly mind anyone's reaction. The spectators had increased from before. Yet Grida and Magrun were still not visible.
Instead, or rather.
"Please include me too."
A young-faced woman whose skill was hard to discern at a glance stood behind the two.
"If you want, I'd like to lend a hand too, but I'll have to postpone it until tomorrow. I have business."
The man called Heskal seemed busy as he looked up at the dark sky once and pulled out a pocket watch from his breast to check the time.
Surrounding information becomes an anchor for perceiving the present. Enkrid understood the meaning of those words well. Well enough to apply and use them now.
Knights originally displayed excellent insight when it came to combat, but within controlled situations, this could also become the ability to discover certain facts by comparing what they knew with the current situation.
In other words, looking at the context before and after and thinking dynamically.
Simply put, it means becoming very perceptive.
Of course, this requires some innate ability too.
Even if he didn't know about sword handling, Enkrid was born with such things. Perception or awareness, that is.
For such reasons, these were things he could see even without particularly thinking hard about them.
'They're not in dire straits.'
While wealth wasn't prominently displayed, Zaun wasn't a family lacking in possessions either.
Pocket watches usually bore artisan names and were as expensive as magical artifacts.
'Actually, they won't even work without magical elements.'
Even though he casually pulled it out and looked at it, no one was surprised. It was part of their familiar daily life.
Of course, the more important part of their daily lives was something else.
"Are you tired?"
Rynox asked. His question contained the willingness to show appropriate consideration, but Enkrid didn't hear it that way.
"I'm always in my best condition right now."
It was sincere. That his current self was always his best—it was no different from his creed.
While saying this, Enkrid thought that he really liked this place. Really truly.
"Next is me!"
"Can't you include me too?"
Among the dozens who had gathered, not one person stepped back.
They weren't stepping forward because they were confident in their skills. They were charging in because they couldn't stand seeing an interesting opponent appear.
These were people who had at least watched from afar when the family head stepped forward but then approached.
Before Rynox could say anything, Enkrid spoke first.
"As many as you want."
Hearing those words, Rynox said.
"Hey, you'll get tired after fighting me."
"I don't think so."
"...What, do you have Will to spare?"
Even if he conserved stamina, Will would be exhausted first. That was everyone's common sense.
"I have plenty to spare."
Since his opponent spoke without hesitation, Enkrid did the same. Rynox opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking.
"This bastard is good at provocation?"
It wasn't provocation, but if it sounded that way, there was nothing he could do about it.
"Fine, let's play once."
Though he didn't look even fifty on the outside, this man called Rynox would also be quite old. Those who awakened Will aged slowly. And this was Zaun.
'If they're called legends.'
They would possess such power because of that.
The family head and his wife would be one such power, and the man before his eyes would also be shouldering one axis of it.
That made him incredibly happy.
"You're smiling?"
Rynox said while grinning himself. Both had faces that showed they were dying of fun.
The watching crowd was similar too.
"It's serious, isn't it? How many years has it been?"
Inside, it was an interior where gray and brown stones alternated to create colors on the walls. On one side, two swords hung side by side, and on the opposite side hung the hide of some beast whose identity was hard to guess.
At Anne's question, the family head turned around.
Though traces remained of a fire having been lit in the central fireplace of the reception room, no fire was lit now, making the air chilly.
The family head's build was twice Anne's size. Seeing it up close might normally inspire intimidation, but such things didn't enter Anne's field of vision.
Moreover, perhaps the family head was trying not to be intimidating, as he only turned around after creating considerable distance.
"Is it intuition as a healer?"
"No. It's certainty."
Alexandra followed in and asked, and Anne answered immediately. Her gaze didn't leave the family head.
Alexandra wasn't particularly good at jokes, so she didn't add anything more, but Anne stared piercingly at the family head—to the degree that if Enkrid had been there, he would have teased, "If you look at him like that, he'll misunderstand that you've fallen for him."
"Please tell me. Do you know the cause?"
Though her words briefly cut off when she uttered the word "cause," Anne's attitude remained consistent.
The family head said nothing special.
Anne knew this disease took very diverse forms.
'I need to find and examine what caused it.'
Only then could she treat it. That came first. Though the family head's attitude couldn't be called gentle by any stretch, he answered with all intimidation completely erased.
"Not now."
Regardless of intimidation, it wasn't the answer Anne had expected.
"...Excuse me?"
"My husband has said all he intends to say."
Alexandra answered instead, and Ragna, who had somehow entered inside, stood behind Anne and said.
"Let's go now."
Ragna could tell from his father's expression that he had no intention of providing explanations.
If there was a need to speak, he would eloquently say what he had to say, but otherwise, he would keep his mouth shut. So he also knew that no matter what was said here, he wouldn't be persuaded.
Anne was flustered.
'The family head himself knows the seriousness of the disease.'
If they mentioned curses, she had eighty-nine things to say in response, and if they asked whether treatment was possible, she had about fifty ways to prove "Yes, I dare to be able to do so."
But none of the words Anne had expected came out. Instead, all that was said was just one phrase: "Not now."
Anne couldn't understand that.
After the duel with the family head, Enkrid spent three more days. The sky that seemed about to pour rain any moment only gained more dark clouds.
But the faces of those seeking him were filled only with joy. The sunshine absent from the sky was abundant in their expressions.
"May I join in too?"
Among them was even a servant who had been running errands. Here, everyone wore swords and talked about swords. That alone clearly showed everyone's joy.
"Of course."
Enkrid punched the servant's face with his fist and kicked his feet, sending him flying to one side.
Thwack, smack!
Anyone watching might think he was beating a child to death, but the servant used both hands and feet while swinging his sword. This was the best way to counter such methods.
"Ail Caraz?"
Feeling something familiar in the servant's techniques, Enkrid spoke.
Enkrid had something similar to Grida. While he forgot people's names, he never forgot the names of swordsmanship or martial arts.
Ail Caraz, also known as King of the Dirt Floor, was a martial art.
The name Ail Caraz was that of a prison notorious on the continent, and Ail Caraz-style martial arts was the name of combat techniques developed by guards there.
The servant just now had mixed that martial art with swordsmanship. He had applied joint locks while swinging his sword.
Those around said he was walking his own path without anyone teaching him.
In any case, this could also be called one of the interesting things.
Mingling with everyone like this, Enkrid felt the special quality of Zaun that he had heard about through Odinkar, Magrun, and Grida.
'They have no hesitation in competing with each other, teaching, pulling each other up, and learning.'
Though some stubbornness was visible among those who were relatively more outstanding.
'That degree of fighting spirit and tenacity...'
It's better to have it than not.
That's why everyone was happy, one could say.
He was about to wrap up another day like this.
As he was about to fall asleep, the sound of rain began to fall outside with a pitter-patter, and even in his drowsiness, Enkrid heard other sounds mixed with the raindrops. By the time he opened his eyes and grasped Tri-Iron that he had standing nearby, the window in his room opened.
Creak.
It was on the first floor and wasn't locked, so it was a window anyone could open.
Beyond that window, he saw a familiar face. When everyone's faces had worn expressions like sunshine over the past three days, here was the one person whose gloomy expression matched the current weather perfectly.
"I have something to say, Enki."
The gloomy face spoke.
"Grida?"
It was too dark outside. Even with eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could barely make out Grida's face properly.
Enkrid recognized, confirmed, and spoke again.
"What do you have to say?"
Instead of answering immediately, Grida bit her lip once.
"The family head is strange."
Though said suddenly, it was something Enkrid agreed with too. Here in Zaun, if you were to pick the strangest person, it would be the family head.
"Come inside first."
Enkrid brought the woman into his room.