Swordsmanship began with movements for efficient power transmission.
The width of steps needed to generate power, how to grip the sword handle, how to transmit power from ankle to waist, shoulder, and wrist, etc.
Studying postures that transmit power and mastering how to swing a sword in those postures—that was swordsmanship.
The Head swung his sword as if demonstrating the fundamentals of swordsmanship.
He stepped forward with his left foot and swung his sword from right to left.
Though he merely swung his sword based on fundamentals, everything around him changed centered on him. Sound disappeared. The raging wind and raindrops were sucked into the trajectory drawn by the sword and vanished.
Enkrid heard a ringing sound while watching the Head's sword.
Beeeeeeee.
It was a sword strike that swallowed everything, whether storms raged or lightning struck.
A single point of concentration spontaneously activated, slowing everything around him, and the Head's movements and the charging monsters' movements appeared separate. Insight arbitrarily pulled the reality an inch ahead.
The Head's sword drew a single trajectory. The line drawn from right to left downward was thick and intense. It seemed like drawing through the air with a brush that left rough traces.
The two monsters would be trapped within that trajectory and die split apart. And as they died, they would pierce the Head's shoulder and side with their outstretched claws.
The monsters' aim was clear as they charged split between high and low.
Bang!
An explosion followed the end of the ringing.
Enkrid nodded with a sound like a groan—hmm.
The future seen through insight twisted. But that wouldn't be surprising.
Though it exceeded expectations, shouldn't the Head of Zaun do at least this much?
The Head's sword was faster than the monsters' charging speed. Like that, the two monsters split apart and bounced through the air. With thud thud collision sounds, the two monsters became chunks of meat bleeding black blood, sprawled on the muddy ground.
The Head who had pulled back his swung sword let it hang loosely and said:
"Come out, Heskal. I will question your crimes."
Swoooosh.
Through the rain, the path those who revered swords called the pilgrimage way honoring the sword god.
Below that path, monsters deployed in formation could be seen.
They were all standing in rows forming ranks.
The Head would have seen that too.
No one seeing that would think today's fight would be easy.
A man who knew Zaun's capabilities stood there as an enemy. Naturally, he would have come prepared to win.
Yet with the Head's single sword strike, the entire atmosphere reversed. Schemes? Traps? What were those? Were they shields that could survive facing his sword?
The Head's sword seemed to say so.
"Ask away."
From the opposite side, Heskal answered while standing among the monster forces. He wasn't swept away by the Head's intimidation or the atmosphere he created.
His presence entered everyone's eyes. By standing fully before the Head and proving himself, he declared that he was the one who had orchestrated all of this.
Their gazes met through the thinning rain.
The falling rain seemed to have become a bit colder. Lightning struck with a crash, crossing the dark clouds, as if splitting the space between them.
It was neither Heskal nor the Head who broke that silence.
"Heskal."
Someone limped forward from the standoff. His pupils shook ceaselessly, but probably not as much as his current feelings were shaken.
"Ah, Riley. I thought the Head would confine you. Well, the Head is also a clever person. He brought you here while suspecting you to shake me."
Swoooosh.
The rain held neither malice nor goodwill. It had no emotion. Heskal's tone and attitude now were the same.
No malice either. But he didn't leave any goodwill either.
"Did you use me?"
Riley said through gritted teeth. He applied so much force that blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but it would soon be diluted and disappear in the rain.
Unless someone was watching right beside him, they wouldn't have seen it, but Enkrid could see it because he had somehow ended up standing right next to him.
It wasn't that he had intended to stand beside Riley, so it was coincidental.
'This spot is perfect.'
It was because Riley was at Zaun's center. This position was good for observing surroundings and leading the situation.
"Were you deceived by some illusion spell? Or were you blackmailed? Poisoned and needed an antidote?"
Then Riley denied reality, muttering as if to himself, but every word was inconsistent. If it were someone else, their life might have been held hostage.
But not someone like Heskal. He would die rather than betray Zaun.
That was the reputation Heskal had built within Zaun over decades.
There was no hesitation in Heskal's eyes. What could be felt from him as he looked ahead with straight back and squared shoulders was righteousness and dignity.
"How could that be?"
Heskal denied it in the soft, caring tone that had always been his nature.
"Then why!"
Riley's cry pierced through the rain. Though outwardly calm, he was screaming inside.
Heskal neither clicked his tongue nor blamed Riley. He simply asked the Head calmly:
"Head, do you think this would shake me?"
"I try everything."
The Head didn't deny what he had done. He also acknowledged that one reason for bringing Riley here was to shake Heskal.
"Give up even now. It's over."
Heskal spoke again. Even at such a moment, Enkrid was watching the monster forces that stood motionless without budging.
He was roughly examining the density of gathered monsters and counting their numbers.
A bit over a thousand?
If you're going to play scout, you need to know methods of assessing enemy strength.
Enkrid could do at least this much.
What was surprising meanwhile was that those monsters weren't budging at all.
'Did they train them? Or is it some kind of mental control?'
Whichever it was, the fact that they were threatening enemies wouldn't change.
The monsters aligned without showing excitement looked like an army.
Units that underwent repeated training are called elite forces. Though their individual capabilities being excellent would be a reason they're called elite, from a commander's perspective, the reason they're elite soldiers is because they know how to act as trained and move as ordered.
Usually when entering combat, inexperienced and poorly trained soldiers don't know what to do. Some would break ranks and flee, some would hide. Of course, there were those who fought recklessly too.
If they could fight while maintaining formation without doing such things, you could certainly call them elite soldiers.
'I should consider them at Border Guard regular level.'
The gathered monsters looked like they had received formal training. It was right to judge them as formidable enemies.
"Why, damn it, why?"
Riley's heart was broken. That meant Heskal was such a great presence within him.
Riley's body swayed as he muttered. A broken heart affects the body.
Should you call this cutting the heart? Looking at it this way, Heskal could truly be called an excellent swordsman.
He cut a person's soul without even drawing his sword.
Enkrid sensed the momentum emanating from people around him.
Luagarne had said such things:
"Could there be a bigger fool than a commander who fights without knowing what state his soldiers are in?"
Knowing the enemy's situation would be good. However, if you didn't know your own situation first, it would be useless.
This was Luagarne-style tactical thinking.
Enkrid had constantly heard and learned such thinking from her.
He followed those words now too.
'People who are angry.'
People who are sad, people who are calm.
Everyone emanated different emotions. Among them, if there was someone special, it would be the giant Anahera.
She was excited. Her breathing was fierce. She was ready to leap out at any time.
Looking at how she fidgeted with her fingers while gripping her sword handle, if left alone, she would unhesitatingly display the racial characteristic of giants called red-blooded demons without looking ahead or behind.
'In actual combat, she's definitely knight-level or above in strength.'
Enkrid placed Anahera outside the category he had drawn in his mind and divided others by drawing lines in his heart.
Those who were sad would fight reasonably well, but those who were confused would only increase casualties if sent to battle immediately.
Those who could fight right away, those who needed time, those who were better off holding the rear.
'Moreover, there are shamans among the enemies.'
Even setting aside sorcerers, shamans were too good a tool for exploiting gaps in the heart.
Curses dig into weak people's hearts, Rem had said. From direct experience, it was correct.
His thoughts were clear and his judgment criteria unwavering. Enkrid alone drew a picture on this battlefield.
"Ah, Enkrid of the Border Guard. You wanted to return, but why did you stay? What more could you gain by staying here?"
Meanwhile, Heskal called out to him. Not approaching closely but shouting from afar seemed cowardly, but honestly, it would be more accurate to call it clever positioning rather than cowardice.
If the Head and his wife set their minds to target him, Heskal would die. He gave them no such distance at all.
"What was your dream? You said you'd tell me, and I'm curious about that, so I can't leave yet."
Enkrid also shouted back. Through the rain, both their voices reached each other without insufficiency.
"Were you so curious?"
"Since childhood, I couldn't sleep if there was something I didn't know."
It wasn't a lie. About swordsmanship, it really was like that. Though he ignored other things.
"You really are an interesting friend."
Heskal spoke and for the first time showed something like emotion. The emotion glimpsed from him was interest.
"Behind me is someone who wants to become a god. If I say alchemist Dremül, few people wouldn't know."
It was a name passed down like legend by drawing a stroke in continental history.
If Anne were here, she would have argued that it made no sense.
Dremül was Laban's teacher and the mad alchemist who developed plague seeds and dreamed of mass slaughter.
He was someone who could be called a specter of the past who should have died long ago.
Heskal calmly stated his dream:
"As he forges divinity, I too will forge divinity the same way."
He was serious. Though the content was absurd.
But wasn't absurdity too natural?
Seemingly impossible things, difficult wishes to achieve, things earnestly desired—we decided to call these dreams.
However.
'It seems he didn't say everything.'
Forging divinity could be process and tool. What would he obtain by becoming a god like that?
If he feared death, he would have said he'd become immortal, and if he wanted to revive his dead son, he would have discussed resurrection, but Heskal added no other words.
He only threw out that his dream he'd said he'd tell later was divine usurpation. That would be all the content Heskal wanted to say.
The few brief words bought time, and meanwhile several people showed the reaction Enkrid had hoped for in his heart.
"Crazy bastard."
Riley Zaun clearly decided his allegiance with a single word.
He was Zaun's sword.
The childlike wavering in his eyes decreased. Though waves remained the same, if the person standing on the ship maintained balance well, they could shake less.
Riley Zaun did just that.
'Not bad.'
Enkrid viewed that change favorably. Several silently finished preparing for battle. Though not everyone was like that.
Besides Riley Zaun, there were many who had received something like salvation from Heskal.
That meant the number of those still swept away and shaken by waves wasn't small.
Such people still shouldn't be used as immediate fighting strength.
'The Head, his wife, Rynox, me, Ragna.'
There were five knights like this.
Besides that, there were two who could be said to be between knight and near-knight level.
Giant Anahera, Riley Zaun, and the man who had been at the front of the opposing group.
He had once received Rynox's recognition but had also wandered after his heart was wounded seeing talented people.
It wasn't to the level of leaving home for over ten years.
That didn't mean his wandering was relatively easy though.
Everyone has their own hell, and everyone can walk the path they decide, right?
His wandering was just living in the retirees' village for a few months.
No, he had visited the hunters' village and brokers' village too.
Anyway, he was a swordsman who returned at the end of that wandering and steeled his heart again.
He could also be considered at a similar level to Anahera.
Meaning he fought better in actual combat.
'Anahera can do that because she's a giant.'
The man who had competed with Riley and the man who had wandered, Kato Zaun, used all kinds of techniques.
He knew a bit of the Ail Karaze martial arts he had seen before and also armed parts of his body with handleless blades and such.
That's why his nickname was Kato of the Blade Armor.
Five plus two, the number of people who could fight in Zaun besides that was around seventy.
Since even more remained behind, this could be called Zaun's entire fighting strength.