The Yohans were people twisted and further twisted.
They had strength but chose not to use it, and they would do anything for the sake of refining their swordsmanship.
Among them, Grida's words remained in memory.
"If you trace back to our predecessors' predecessors, you'll find our beginning. I've heard that someone, lacking something, started swordsmanship to fill that void."
There was no need to ask what caused the void.
It meant that everything ultimately led to the sword.
For instance, what should a man who was abandoned by a woman and still harbored unrequited love do to overcome his pain?
If he were a Yohan, he would be told to swing a sword. The same applied to a child who had lost their parents. How should they deal with longing and sorrow?
By swinging a sword.
There was a child who often lost his way from an early age. That child longed for the right and proper path.
Talent pushed them onto the one path they never lost—the path of the sword. Their desire to find the right path manifested in their sword.
A child who could not recognize people's faces grew up to have an exceptional talent for remembering techniques.
Grida, when it came to swordsmanship, had an almost perfect memory. So—
"Oh, Loni? What brings you here?"
Misnaming Krais upon seeing him was nothing special. If one understood her, if one knew the Yohans, it was only natural.
"Why do you keep getting my name wrong? Are you picking a fight?" When Krais grumbled, Grida would always respond with a smile. "Sorry, I never crossed swords with you."
Had they sparred, she would have remembered through swordsmanship. If not, Grida simply could not recall a person's face.
Could one truly fill a void with the sword like this?
To outsiders, it was absurd, but to them, it was possible. And the final piece that made it possible was—
Talent.
Born with talent, they gathered and trained their swords in grotesquely twisted ways. That was the Yohan family.
Among the spectators, those who could read a fight all knew what Grida was doing. Enkrid, who was directly experiencing it, knew as well.
A counter tailored for the opponent.
This wasn't so different from what Shinar did.
Shinar had brought a method to counter Wave-breaker Sword, while Grida had brought a method to overturn "calculations."
A counter technique designed to break a single move.
"I'll show you the result of two months."
This was the outcome of what Magrun had said before the fight began.
A deviation.
A series of meaningless actions to disrupt calculations.
Instead of leaping forward by kicking off the ground, the movements failed to connect.
She spun around, thrust her sword through the gap under her armpit, slapped her own thigh for no reason, shook her head left and right—some actions had meaning, others did not.
Thus, because the movements did not follow proper coordination, calculations were inevitably distorted.
'It is fun, though.'
This wasn't about winning but purely about dismantling techniques.
She disrupted calculations, and even that disruption became part of her swordsmanship. Truly, weren't these fascinating people?
Would she also account for the Wave-breaker Sword? Since that too belonged in the realm of thought?
"If I keep applying this kind of strain, what will happen?"
Even so, it wouldn't work against the Wave-breaker Sword. It would become two parallel lines advancing side by side.
Wave-breaker was a sword devoted to defense, with endurance as its greatest strength. Even if one trains their thinking, its meaning in swordsmanship lies in defense.
Magrun and Grida both knew that.
Thus, if the Wave-breaker Sword appeared, their answer would be not to engage. They dismantled techniques and found joy in the art of the sword itself.
Watching from the sidelines, Odincar was getting excited, his shoulders bouncing. Enkrid adjusted the position of his sword.
Grida knew how to exploit weaknesses. That was her specialty.
"Here I come again."
Enkrid spoke while looking at Grida.
He raised his sword above his head, exposing his chest, sides, and underarms. Grida identified several weaknesses at once.
The realization made her body move on its own. A simple downward thrust would do.
Yet even as she knew this, she hesitated.
Why?
Because Enkrid's sword was raised above his head.
If I go in, I'll be hit.
Grida pulled back the sword she had intended to thrust. It was a split-second decision.
Her sword reflected the sunlight, shining white as it aligned perpendicular to the ground.
Enkrid had changed the form of his calculations—from sustained flow to instantaneous bursts. If defense was meant to block waves, then attack was meant to shine in a single moment.
That was how he defined the meaning of swordsmanship.
Screech.
He pushed forward with his soles still on the ground, kicking up dust from the dry earth beneath his boots.
If his left foot moved forward, his right foot naturally followed. Thus, Enkrid secured the distance he desired.
"Don't block it!"
Just before the attack, Odincar shouted. A foreboding feeling had moved his lips. Magrun widened his eyes in observation.
Rem, Audin, Ragna, and Jaxen all stepped forward at the same time. But they were still too late.
Screech!
Enkrid scraped the ground with his right foot, stepping diagonally forward, spinning his sword, and pressing its side with his right index finger.
A thumb grip.
Then, he swung his sword.
A single instant, a strike that accounted for every defensive movement Grida might take. Enkrid's Samcheol sword struck and passed the white sword Grida had raised vertically. Boom!
A thunderous impact sounded as Grida let out a pained grunt. Enkrid's strike was a horizontal cut from the high stance.
The advantage of this slash was that even if blocked, it could transition seamlessly into a thrust from a lowered bull stance.
And so he did.
He twirled his sword overhead, feinting as if pushing Grida's white sword to the left.
Then, as the blades met, he shifted into a cross-guard to restrain Grida's grip and slid downward into a thrust.
The force caused Grida's knees to half-buckle.
In everyone's eyes, it seemed as though a large hole had formed in her skull. Yet it did not happen.
Enkrid had already stopped his blade.
"…I need to pee."
Grida muttered, and Enkrid turned to the long shadow cast by a member behind him.
"If I had meant to kill, I would've followed a diagonal cut with an upward slash instead of a horizontal one."
"We knew, so we didn't stop you."
Rem added an unnecessary remark.
At some point, Odincar had risen, sword drawn. The result was clear.
Enkrid had won, and Grida had lost.
Grida exhaled deeply and collapsed onto the ground, relaxing as she spoke, her voice tinged with laughter.
"Hey, you should have fought purely with insight to the end."
"I never agreed to that."
"True enough."
Grida nodded, and Enkrid smiled as he sheathed his sword.
"It looked fun, but it's not exactly suitable for sparring, is it?" Ragna commented from the sidelines.
"Are you the one to say that?" Rem retorted, while Ropord, who had barely managed to follow Enkrid's fight with his eyes, could not hear the conversation around him.
A revelation had struck him.
If calculations are read, what should be done?
Enkrid had just shown the answer.
Change the form of calculations.
Could one hold multiple different forms of calculations? Calculations were not all the same.
Watching Enkrid had made him realize this.
Unintentional or not, all the teachings until now had led to this moment. Ropord realized a few things and began waving his hand in the air.
Fel, seeing this, opened his mouth but quickly closed it. It wasn't fair to interfere right now.
Let alone to disturb someone with less talent than him? Fel's pride as a shepherd in the wilderness was not that low. He closed his mouth and thought to himself.
During this moment, Enkrid shifted his gaze to one side.
"Tch, I lost the bet."
It was Magrun. It wasn't because of what he said. Over the past two months, Magrun hadn't been openly sharp, but he had softened to some degree. At times, Enkrid treated him like a friend he had known for over a decade.
"Magrun."
When Enkrid called his name, Magrun smiled as if about to respond, but then his brows furrowed, and he grimaced before coughing up blood.
His chest was quickly soaked in red.
Odincar sheathed his sword with a sharp ching and moved to Magrun's side. Grida also retrieved her sword and stepped back.
"Hmm. Of all times, the curse flares up now," Grida remarked.
Enkrid's gaze briefly searched for Esther, then shifted to Rem, before returning to normal.
Esther was away for a couple of days, supposedly searching for some kind of starlight, and Rem merely twitched his eyebrows in response.
"Ugh!"
After several coughs, Magrun vomited clotted blood, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. Odincar reached out and caught him.
"What kind of curse?" Enkrid asked, studying Magrun.
Grida scratched near his mouth with a finger before answering, her tone devoid of urgency. If this were his first time witnessing such a thing, he wouldn't be so composed.
"A curse that affects a few people if they're unlucky. Some survive after coughing up blood, others die. Usually, their breathing weakens over time, and then they just stop."
Her voice was indifferent.
Ragna also seemed familiar with the matter.
"That's exactly how it is."
He didn't seem to know more than that.
Odincar, still supporting Magrun, calmly checked his condition.
"Jaxen."
"Yes."
"Bring Anne here. Audin."
"Understood. I'll take a look, brother."
Audin knew that Enkrid was immune to curses. He also wasn't the type to fear them.
He gathered golden energy in his hand and pressed it against Magrun's chest.
"Hmm."
Magrun let out a faint groan.
"If this is a curse, it seems to be the kind that my abilities don't affect, brother," Audin said. Could divinity truly counter curses?
Not necessarily.
Divine energy could heal wounds caused by a curse, but the concept of curses was rooted more in sorcery.
That's why Enkrid had looked to Rem, but even he didn't step forward.
"I don't smell anything foul," Rem muttered, then turned to his axe.
"You think so too?"
For someone who was often mocked for talking to his weapon, he spoke to it with remarkable ease.
Grida couldn't hold back and commented, "Your axe never wants to sing or anything?"
"Hey, my axe actually expresses its will."
Grida got the point but kept silent.
Now wasn't the time for such a discussion.
Enkrid wondered if Magrun had been in bad shape for the past two months, but that wasn't the case.
This was a sudden onset.
Before long, Jaxen returned with Anne.
"If someone lost an arm, shouldn't you just call Seiki?" Anne asked as she approached.
"That's not the case. It's an old curse," Grida replied nonchalantly.
Hearing that, Anne fell silent and moved closer.
She knelt before Magrun, flipped open one of his eyelids, and examined him. "Open his mouth," she instructed.
Odincar complied.
Through past injuries from sparring, they knew this much—Anne was an exceptional healer. Honestly, even among the main house, they had never seen someone of her caliber.
Instead of checking Magrun's tongue, Anne examined the inside of his mouth closely.
Then, she pulled a rounded metal spoon from her pouch, scraped the inside of his cheek once, and wrapped the sample in paper.
"You said it was a curse?" she asked.
"Yeah," Grida nodded.
"It's not a curse."
Letting out a breath, Anne stood up.
She hesitated for a moment, lips pursed, then turned away abruptly. As she walked off, she seemed slightly unsteady.
It wasn't that she was physically staggering—it was more like she was mentally shaken.
"Wait," Ragna stepped beside her and grabbed her arm.
"What?"
"You look like you're struggling to walk."
"…Yeah, I'm a bit exhausted. I've been up for days doing research."
With that, the two left, and Grida spoke again.
"He'll be fine after some rest. The family head endured a curse for over ten years. He's still holding up, right?"
"The symptoms are progressing faster than before, but yeah, he still fights like a monster," Odincar replied.
From their conversation, Enkrid grew curious about this so-called family head. But he didn't ask.
It wasn't like he had any reason to meet the man. The next day, Magrun regained consciousness.
"I'm fine now," he said as if nothing had happened, rising to his feet with ease. That afternoon, Anne sought out Enkrid.
Ragna stood beside her, the two looking like a well-matched pair.
"I need to leave for a while," Anne said first.
"Where to?"
"To the Yohan family. Ragna will guide me, so you can come along." Enkrid reflexively asked.
"Is your future dream to be a wanderer, not a healer?"
"What?"
Anne blinked in surprise, and Ragna spoke from beside her.
"I also have some business with my family, so I'll be going too."
It sounded as casual as if they were going to visit a neighbor, but of course, they couldn't be sent alone.
If Anne were a top-tier guide with extraordinary talent, it might've been fine.
But that wasn't the case. Anne didn't enjoy traveling.
Grida had heard that when she came to find Border Guard, she almost died a few times. She even said she had used up all her luck back then.
"It's time for us to go back as well," Grida said from the side.
"Yeah, you should."
Anne responded as if it was obvious, then looked at Grida, Odincar, and especially Magrun before continuing.
"It's amazing that you've lasted this long. You people."
Enkrid didn't understand the comment, but at that moment, he knew what he needed to say. "I should go too. I can't ignore the crisis facing your family. After all, it's Ragna's family." Enkrid quickly spoke.
He had received a lot from Ragna.
There was no reason for him not to go when he was on his way to protect the place where Ragna was born.
While Jaxen, Rem, and Audin were away, Shinar, who had been nearby, overheard and interpreted Enkrid's thoughts.
"You just want to meet the head of their family, don't you?" Grida nodded in response.
It was just a madman talking in his usual mad way.
Also, Anne had said it was amazing that they had held on, but Grida wasn't surprised. If that curse had been deadly, they would've been long dead by now.
However.
"Do you know what this is?" Grida couldn't help but ask.
Many people had died from this curse.
While no one had set out with the grand goal of fighting the curse, if it could be eradicated, people would want to do so.
"I know. But I think I'll understand it better once we get there." Anne answered.
Enkrid backed her up.
"I trust Anne's words."
"This is a declaration of intent to accompany you because he really wants to meet the family head."
Shinar translated Enkrid's words again.