"Why do I feel so annoyed?"
Rem muttered as he watched the departing group. Beside him, Audin chuckled and said,
"He must have reached some kind of realization."
He was referring to Ragna's state.
"Or maybe he's just lost his mind?"
"That's possible too."
Rem glanced at Audin.
The night before Enkrid left, Rem had witnessed him sparring with Audin. To be precise, Enkrid had suddenly sought him out and requested it.
"I'd like to have a match before I go."
Leaving tomorrow but still asking for a duel today? For Enkrid, that was nothing unusual.
Rem had simply observed without worry—only to see Enkrid lose. And not just lose—he got thoroughly beaten.
At some point, Audin, having realized the true purpose of the match, asked, "Did you learn a lot?"
"A little."
In Rem's eyes, Enkrid was the type of man who, even if he were to die, would still try to learn one more sword stroke before doing so.
It was a fleeting thought, but it was also the truth.
Enkrid had lived by dying and repeating today over and over again, struggling desperately to reach where he was now.
"You block with waves and strike with light, is that right?"
"Yeah."
"In doing so, you reveal all of your specialties without reserve."
"That's true."
"From a strategic perspective, that's a foolish thing to do. But I assume you already understand that it doesn't necessarily mean it's wrong?"
Rem silently agreed but didn't join the conversation.
The fanatical bear beastkin had already said all that needed to be said. Enkrid, his eyes bruised blue, nodded.
A little more, and his eyeball might have burst, but his body had long since been tempered into steel.
While his swordplay had yet to reach the highest level within his own system, when it came to enduring blows, he had already achieved it.
He had instinctively learned to raise his Will and fortify his body when being hit. How could he master only that?
'Because he's been beaten so many times.' That was Rem's conclusion.
He had been struck so often that he unconsciously used Will whenever he got hit.
So logically, if he could do that while taking hits, he should be able to do the same when swinging his sword.
To Rem, Audin, Jaxen, and Ragna, it was baffling that he couldn't.
If someone could open a door with their left hand, they should be able to do it with their right as well.
And yet, he couldn't.
One might expect frustration, seeing a guy who had surpassed them in some moments still grow at such a slow pace after becoming a knight.
But honestly, it wasn't infuriating.
They had long accepted that he was simply built differently.
"He'll come back stronger."
Rem pushed his thoughts aside and spoke. Slow, but steady.
That was the kind of man Enkrid was.
"Yes, I know."
Audin nodded.
"And that directionally challenged bastard might be acting like he's preparing to die, so maybe we should get the funeral prayers ready."
Rem half-joked, half-meant it.
His instincts were frighteningly sharp.
After all, Ragna had changed because he realized he was ill.
"Surely not."
Audin knew of Ragna's talent.
He himself was considered a prodigy in the path of war, but even he had to acknowledge Ragna's unique intuition.
The way Ragna grasped principles and advanced with a single moment of focus—it was something almost impossible to replicate.
Not that it was something to be jealous of. Audin understood himself well.
He knew the value of what he had.
Since he only knew how to move forward steadily, he would continue doing just that. And the captain who had accepted his teachings would do the same.
***
Enkrid and his group left the city, roughly deciding on their route. The weather was perfect from the very first day.
Not surprising—
From Border Guard northward, rainfall sharply decreased in spring. In other words, it rarely rained.
Come summer, storms would rage, but for now, the days remained mild and peaceful. At times, a light spring drizzle would fall, but heavy downpours were rare.
Some said that the longer the dryness of spring lasted, the fiercer the summer storms would be—but that was something they'd have to confirm when the time came.
"We'll ride until we reach the right wing of the Pen-Hanil Mountains—oh, you guys don't call it that, do you? We refer to that part as the wing. We'll cross over there."
The only commotion at the start of the journey was Ragna insisting on leading the way.
"If you take the lead, we'll have to travel around the entire continent." Enkrid reminded him of reality.
"Hey, was it Sena? Get him to stop." Grida nudged Anne to intervene.
"It's Anne. You've already gotten my name wrong over five times."
"Ah, my bad. I'll just call you Freckles."
"I hate that even more." Anne responded smoothly as she grabbed Ragna's arm.
"Match your pace with mine. I'm not used to this yet."
Watching her ride, she seemed well beyond 'used to it'—closer to 'skilled.' But Ragna didn't argue.
"This isn't the time to fuss over small things."
That had been their conversation right after leaving the city. Then, Magrun spurred his horse forward.
"Hya, hya! Hyat!"
Odincar and Grida matched his pace, and Enkrid followed suit. Naturally, Ragna and Anne trailed behind.
Though they had no urgent matters, they immediately began a forced march.
"Why waste time on the road? We won't make it ten days on horseback anyway. Until then, we ride and ride again."
Magrun's reasoning was simple.
These were people who despised wasting time on the road.
They would rather exhaust themselves riding all day and then spend the night swinging their swords one more time.
For Enkrid, it was an ideal arrangement. For Anne, it was nothing short of hell.
"Are you all crazy?"
Even so, Anne followed along well.
It was because she was eager to identify the nature of the disease as quickly as possible. Or rather, to be more precise, she intended to kill it.
Anne carried that kind of resolve.
It was as if she had decided to fight this disease and emerge victorious.
"I just made up my mind. If this wretched disease is still tormenting or killing someone, then I will be there, without fail."
She spoke briefly, directing her words at Ragna. Enkrid also listened carefully.
And so, as they rode during the day and rested at night, Enkrid would often retreat into his thoughts, organizing his mind.
Every now and then, when he moved without distractions, he could feel his thoughts sharpening.
He left Anne in Ragna's care, Magrun handled the navigation, and Greeda took charge of setting up camp.
With all trivial matters set aside, what occupied his mind now were the things Audin had shown him.
There was a reason he had spent time sparring before leaving.
Within his instincts, Enkrid sensed his own shortcomings, and he confirmed them through Audin.
'They all find ways to counter my specialty too easily.'
Though it was just during training, if this pattern repeated, it would affect real battles as well. Even fights he should win could turn into defeats.
Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxen had all broken through his waves, and even Grida had dismantled his calculations.
Odincar's swordsmanship was showing similar tendencies, and he felt it in his conversations with Magrun as well.
"You're just too predictable."
That was what Grida had said.
Her observational skills were remarkable.
If Luagarne had been there, would she have said something similar? Regardless of skill, that Frog had an exceptional eye.
Luagarne had left with Theresa and Shinar for some special training, so Enkrid hadn't seen her until the day they departed.
He turned the thoughts over in his mind, again and again.
Among his many reflections, he replayed his last spar with Audin.
Audin frequently created and filled gaps in his defenses using his sacred armor, yet it wasn't due to a lack of skill.
'Deception.'
He deliberately left openings, intentionally exposing weak points. Even that deception was a part of his technique.
The moment an opponent thought Audin was incompetent, they would no longer be able to defeat him.
He was stronger, more precise in calculations, and more skilled than anyone in the unit, yet he did not hesitate to deceive.
Was it necessary to fight using only one's strongest trait? What about Jamal of the Knights of Aspen?
'He revealed his real techniques later.'
This didn't mean he needed to prioritize deceptive swordsmanship. It meant he had to know how to utilize everything he had.
Oara once told him he was too scattered.
She even advised him to abandon some things.
Was it greed that he refused to discard and instead fused everything together? Had he strayed from the right path?
Enkrid was still human.
At times, an inexplicable unease wrapped around him.
A tingling sensation ran across his skin, an ominous feeling making his heart pound—though only for a moment.
If he had let such anxiety stop him, he would have long since settled for 'the best today could offer.'
What should one do when feeling uneasy? Swing the sword.
It was a truth he had learned through countless experiences.
After all, there was nothing else he could do.
That was why he spent his days organizing his thoughts and his nights swinging his sword alone. To an outsider, it might have seemed unbearably monotonous.
"Today's effort will save your life tomorrow."
That was what Ragna had said, a man who had transformed from a slacker into diligence incarnate.
Of course, everyone who heard him could only stare at him in disbelief.
"I know."
Only Enkrid answered calmly as he continued to swing his sword, again and again. Magrun found it fascinating.
'Is he planning to die tomorrow?'
For himself, that was a real possibility. This curse usually worked that way.
It began in childhood and gradually led to death. His case had progressed rather quickly.
That was why he wanted to leave something behind.
His entire life had been dedicated to leaving his mark on Yohan. That was the life of Magrun Yohan.
Yet even he had never endured such an extreme regimen. And this man had been like this since the city.
Every day, he lived an excruciatingly dense today, identical to the last. Magrun could not fathom undertaking something so demanding.
That was why he found it fascinating.
"If you're free, Magrun, want a match?"
At dusk, Enkrid even requested a sparring match. Magrun knew he couldn't win in terms of skill.
Even if he risked his life, he wouldn't surpass this wall.
That bastard Rem was impressive, but in sparring alone, this man was even more formidable.
Magrun, despite his sharp tongue, was quick to acknowledge others. That was one of his greatest strengths.
It also granted him the ability to analyze techniques, helping him learn new skills faster than most.
That was why people often praised his innate adaptability. 'This guy, on the other hand, is slow.'
Magrun had seen countless geniuses while growing up in Yohan. Not a single one possessed such a dull talent as the man before him. And yet, this man was greater than all of them.
"As much as you want."
Clang!
Their swords clashed, marking the beginning of the match. After a brief exchange, the victor was clear—it was Magrun. This was the first reason why he found Enkrid extraordinary.
"I lost."
Enkrid knew how to accept defeat.
"Yeah."
Magrun nodded. Enkrid then asked,
"Anything you can tell me?"
"A few things."
Magrun calmly listed what he had observed and felt.
Enkrid asked follow-up questions, ruminating over the insights as he nodded. Yes, discard everything else.
But knowing how to lose, and maintaining this attitude—these were undeniable strengths. 'He opens his heart and eyes completely.'
To learn even a single thing, he sought help without hesitation. Not in a servile or sycophantic way, but with sincerity.
He truly listened, asked, and sought answers.
How many could exchange knowledge like this with someone weaker than themselves? It wasn't easy.
Not at all.
Even in Yohan, Magrun had never seen it before.
Normally, those who have advanced further lead those who lag behind.
In Yohan, where competitiveness is the foundation, this was even more emphasized. But Enkrid was different.
He knew he would lose, and he opened his ears to his shortcomings, acknowledged them, and accepted them.
How could that not be fascinating?
It wasn't just Magrun who felt that way. Odincar did as well.
Needless to say, Grida too.
Ragna, seeing such an Enkrid, deliberately pushed him hard.
"If you hide your specialty and hesitate, that's where it ends. Don't you know that? If you don't, then do it again. Again!"
Ragna was also burning with a passion he hadn't shown before.
Had Shinar seen him, she would have called it Igniculus, the time when embers flare up. Enkrid hadn't wasted a single moment during his journey.
Even while riding, he remained focused.
Moreover, since they had not set up any dedicated safe routes or outposts in this area, the occasional monsters and beasts that appeared became both excellent sparring partners and prey.
Watching others fight was a lesson, and personally engaging in battle while reflecting on what he had learned was just as valuable.
By the time the mounted journey was nearing its end,technique, skill, physical ability, tactical thinking, strategy formulation, reasoning, judgment, instant adaptability, decisiveness, and boldness—Enkrid realized that all of these had to come together for them to have true meaning.
"They must be in harmony."
What must he do to achieve that?
Dozens of images and memories flashed through his mind.
His thoughts opened wide in the realm of contemplation and review.
The process of searching for answers in past memories was compressed, and he instantly reached a conclusion, arriving at the destination.
"The hands that grill jerky."
From the hidden corners of his library of memories, something shyly surfaced.
In that modest recollection, he saw Aetri hammering away, Frog's hands beside him, the giant who had transformed into a skilled merchant, the shopkeeper making marmalade, and the cobbler stitching shoes.