Chapter 695 - Enkrid Brought a Woman into the Room
Ragna was surprised, but he felt neither jealousy nor resentment.
He had witnessed Enkrid's beginning and had been with him until now—what was there to be jealous of?
"You drew out a formless force into a tangible one."
Ragna concisely explained what he had seen.
Enkrid understood, but if someone asked him to do it again, he wasn't sure he could.
'I don't have a grasp on it.'
To be honest, he had no idea how he had done it just moments ago.
It felt like a dream.
Was this what people called luck?
A fleeting moment of fortune that came after tens of thousands of swings?
There was an old saying across the continent—luck was like a goddess riding the wind, impossible to hold onto.
Luck never stayed, only brushed past.
Though it had felt like luck, Enkrid immediately rejected that thought.
'No, there was never such a thing as luck. It wasn't luck.'
The years he had accumulated, the countless days spent swinging his sword, told him otherwise.
What he needed to do now was recall and analyze.
As he had said earlier, today was not the only day.
As he replayed the exchange in his mind, he realized something—Alexandra had accelerated in the middle of the fight.
'She sped up midway, adding variation to her attack speed.'
It had been an unexpected movement.
The Wave-breaker relied on perceiving an opponent's actions, analyzing them, and calculating a response.
But when the already extreme speed of her sword increased even further, it turned into a truly unforeseen strike.
'I never even considered that someone could swing a sword at that speed.'
If there had been even a bit more wasted motion.
If the angle of the blade had been slightly off.
If his decision-making had been just a little slower.
If his body's reaction had been even slightly duller.
'I would be dead.'
Death had brushed past him.
And yet, within it all, he recognized her intent—one filled with care and gratitude.
'It was like forcing me into movement.'
Alexandra's specialty was overwhelming opponents with speed.
But now, he realized it wasn't just about forcing movement.
'Even talking to me before the strike was the same.'
She had spoken to him to heighten his concentration.
When Enkrid wielded his desperation as a weapon and responded with conviction, she layered killing intent into her strikes, pushing his tension even further.
With just a few words, she had gauged his focus.
"This brat… You're not even listening to me?"
That was what she had said.
The first stab that grazed his cheek had been the same.
She had tested how his body reacted in a dire situation.
She had been the one to teach him that half-hearted movements meant death.
She had told him that if he wasn't fast enough, he shouldn't try anything clumsy.
That he needed to focus solely on a single, honed strike.
That his accumulated desperation should resonate with the present moment.
She had guided him—no, forced him—to unleash that one decisive swing.
Of course, even in her consideration, his life had still hung in the balance.
'If I couldn't keep up, I would've died.'
That was an undeniable truth.
"How many have died during her sparring sessions?"
"You mean my mother?"
Ragna repeated the question before shaking his head.
"As far as I know, none."
Ragna had left home at an early age.
Enkrid turned to find Grida—if anyone knew, it would be her.
But she wasn't among the spectators.
Only his own group and the family head were there.
Enkrid's gaze lingered on Anne's back before shifting away.
He saw the family head and Anne disappearing behind the brick wall at the back of the training grounds.
Alexandra glanced over her shoulder at them but said nothing.
"Ragna, follow Anne."
"Sure."
At Enkrid's words, Ragna followed her without hesitation.
This was foreign territory.
Whatever she was seeking, having at least one familiar face beside her would be better.
Well, there were other reasons too, but this was about keeping all possibilities open.
As he continued his thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears.
"Hey, guest."
A man approached, six swords strapped to his body, his excitement evident.
His hands were wrapped in worn cloth, and his forehead was bound with a thick band of the same material.
His waist and shins were also wrapped in the same tattered yet clean crimson cloth.
With six swords, he might have looked ragged, but he didn't seem unkempt.
His straight posture, the readiness in his stance to draw any of the six swords at any moment, and the underlying composure in his movements gave him an air of refinement.
'He prefers precise movements.'
That was the impression Enkrid got from observing him approach.
"You've got it. I can see it all."
The man spoke suddenly.
Behind him, an older man—at least ten years senior to Enkrid—shook his head.
"Take his words with caution. His instincts are rarely correct."
A deep, measured voice.
The first thing that caught Enkrid's eye was the finely engraved patterns on his scabbard.
Next were the thick calluses in his grip, the way his stance remained subtly poised to move at any moment, and the fact that his breathing was barely audible.
'Neither of them are ordinary.'
That was his first impression.
Of course, the outcome of a real fight was never predictable.
Even if he had just sparred against Alexandra or the family head, once in actual combat, things could play out differently.
A fight to the death was always unpredictable.
Likewise, he couldn't easily claim that his own chances of winning were higher.
"I'm Heskal, and this guy—"
The older man started to introduce himself.
"I'll do my own introduction, you icy bastard."
The younger man cut him off.
"My name is Rhinox. Are you looking for the best fighter in the Yohan family? That's not me. But I am the most romantic man."
The one wielding six swords continued speaking.
Though it wasn't exactly normal to call oneself a romantic, it wasn't enough to truly unsettle Enkrid.
After all, he had spent years maintaining his sanity while surrounded by madmen.
"Enkrid of Border Guard."
At his response, the man named Heskal extended his hand.
Enkrid took it.
"I apologize for the delayed greeting. Welcome to Yohan."
Rhinox smirked and added,
"Welcome, my ass. Pull yourself together. You still want to keep going, right? Alex enjoys pushing people to their limits, but I don't."
"It won't be a bad experience."
Listening to the exchange, Enkrid realized that these two held authority comparable to that of the family head.
Neither sought the family head's permission, nor did they seem concerned about anyone else's opinion.
More onlookers had gathered than before.
However, Grida and Magrun were nowhere to be seen.
Instead—
"Include me as well."
A young woman with a youthful face, whose skill was difficult to gauge at a glance, stood behind them.
"If you wish, I'd like to lend a hand as well. But I'll have to postpone it until tomorrow—I have business to attend to."
The man called Heskal glanced up at the darkening sky as if he were in a hurry.
Then, he retrieved a pocket watch from his coat to check the time.
The information surrounding a person serves as an anchor to the present.
Enkrid understood that concept well.
In fact, he applied it even now.
Knights typically excel in battlefield insight.
When in a controlled situation, they can compare what they know with their present surroundings to deduce facts.
In short, they can analyze past and present events to recognize patterns and logical outcomes.
Put simply, they become extraordinarily perceptive.
Of course, a natural talent for this kind of awareness plays a part.
Even if he wasn't the best with a sword, Enkrid had been born with this keen sense—an intuition, a sharp perceptiveness.
Because of that, he didn't need to think too hard to notice certain things.
'Not in dire straits.'
Yohan didn't flaunt its wealth, but it wasn't lacking either.
Pocket watches bore the names of master craftsmen and were as expensive as magical artifacts.
'And without magical components, they wouldn't even function.'
Yet, when Heskal casually pulled his out, no one reacted with surprise.
It was an ordinary part of life here.
Of course, their daily lives revolved around more pressing matters.
"Feeling tired?"
Rhinox asked.
His tone carried a hint of consideration, as if he'd go easy on him, but Enkrid didn't take it that way.
"I'm always in my best condition."
He meant it.
His personal philosophy was that his current self was always his peak self.
As he spoke, Enkrid realized he genuinely liked this place.
"Next up, me!"
"May I join in as well?"
Among the dozen or so people who had gathered, not a single one backed down.
They didn't step forward because they were confident in their skills.
They simply couldn't resist the temptation of an interesting opponent.
They had kept their distance while the family head was involved, but now they eagerly closed in.
Before Rhinox could say anything, Enkrid spoke first.
"As much as you like."
At that, Rhinox said,
"Hey, after fighting me, you'll be exhausted."
"I doubt it."
"...You have that much Will left?"
Even if one conserved physical strength, Will was bound to deplete first.
That was common knowledge.
"I have plenty."
Since his opponent spoke so directly, Enkrid did the same.
Rhinox opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally speaking.
"This bastard's good at provoking people."
It wasn't a provocation, but if it came across that way, so be it.
"Alright, let's have some fun."
Rhinox might have looked under fifty, but he was certainly much older.
Those who awakened Will aged more slowly.
And this was Yohan.
'If they are called legends…'
It meant they had the power to back it up.
The family head and his wife likely possessed such strength, and the man before him was surely another pillar of it.
That thought thrilled him.
"You're smiling?"
Rhinox smirked as well.
They both looked like they were having the time of their lives.
And the spectators seemed to feel the same way.
***
"His condition is serious, isn't it? How long has it been?"
Inside, the walls were made of alternating gray and brown stones.
Two swords hung side by side on one side of the room, while the opposite wall displayed the pelt of an unknown beast.
Hearing Anne's question, the family head turned around.
The central fireplace of the reception room bore traces of having been lit before, but at the moment, it remained unlit, leaving the air cold.
The family head was twice Anne's size.
Standing before him, one might have felt intimidated, but Anne paid no attention to such things.
Furthermore, whether intentionally or not, the family head had maintained a significant distance, as if trying to avoid imposing on her.
"Is that your intuition as a healer?"
"No. It's certainty."
Alexandra, who had followed them in, asked the question, and Anne answered without hesitation.
Her gaze never wavered from the family head.
Alexandra wasn't particularly skilled at making jokes, so she didn't add anything else.
But if Enkrid had been present, he might have teased her, saying, "You're staring at him like you've fallen for him."
"Tell me. Do you know the cause?"
Anne's speech halted briefly when she uttered the word "cause," but her stance remained firm.
The family head said nothing.
Anne knew this affliction could take many different forms.
'I need to see what caused it.'
"Only then can we treat it. That's the priority."
The family head's attitude, though not soft by any measure, was clear and firm, but he answered without any trace of intimidation.
"Not now."
Despite the lack of pressure, this wasn't the answer Anne had expected.
"…What?"
"My husband has said everything that needs to be said."
Alexandra responded in place of the family head, and before long, Ragna, who had entered silently, stood behind Anne and spoke.
"Let's go."
Ragna could tell from his father's expression that he had no intention of offering any further explanation.
If there was something to say, the family head would speak fluently.
If not, he would remain silent.
He knew that nothing said here would change anything.
Anne, now flustered, found herself in a position where she couldn't get the answers she sought.
'The family head knows the seriousness of the illness.'
If she mentioned the curse, there would be countless responses, and if asked about treatment, there would be fifty different ways to prove it.
But none of that was spoken.
Instead, the only words that came out were, "Not now."
Anne couldn't understand.
***
After his sparring match with the family head, Enkrid spent three more days in Yohan.
The sky, which seemed ready to burst with rain, only grew darker with more clouds.
Yet, the faces of those who sought him out were filled with nothing but joy.
The sunshine that wasn't visible in the sky seemed to shine through their expressions.
"Can I join too?"
Among the visitors, there was even a servant running errands.
Here, everyone wore swords and talked about them.
That alone made everyone happy.
"Of course."
Enkrid punched the servant in the face and kicked him aside.
Thwack!
Thud!
Anyone who saw it might think he was killing a child, but the servant swung his sword, using both his hands and feet.
To block it, this was the best method.
"Eil Karaz?"
Enkrid felt something familiar in the servant's movements and spoke.
Enkrid, like Grida, had a tendency to remember the names of martial arts and techniques, even if he forgot people's names.
Eil Karaz, known as the "King of the Dirt Ground," was a martial art developed by a prison warden in a notorious prison.
The servant had mixed that martial art with his swordplay.
While swinging his sword, he incorporated joint locks.
It was said that no one had taught him, and yet he was walking his own path.
In any case, this was yet another interesting thing to observe.
Through all his interactions, Enkrid began to feel the unique qualities of Yohan that he had heard about from Odincar, Magrun, and Grida.
'They compete, teach each other, push one another forward, and learn without hesitation.'
There was some stubbornness in the more skilled individuals, but...
'That kind of pride and determination...'
It's better to have it than not.
With that thought in mind, Enkrid could say that everyone was enjoying themselves.
As the day was nearing its end, Enkrid was about to sleep when he heard the sound of raindrops outside.
Even in his drowsy state, he could hear a different sound mixed with the rain.
As he grabbed the sword he had set aside, the window in the room suddenly opened.
Creak.
It was a window on the first floor, and it hadn't been locked, so anyone could open it.
Through that window, a familiar face appeared.
The gloomy face that hadn't changed in three days was the only one that matched the dreary weather, standing out in stark contrast to the cheerful faces of everyone else.
"I have something to say, Enki."
The familiar face spoke.
"Grida?"
The outside was too dark for him to make out Grida's face, but with his night vision, Enkrid recognized her.
He confirmed it and spoke again.
"What is it you need to say?"
Instead of answering immediately, Grida bit her lip.
"The family head is acting strange."
It was a blunt statement, but one that Enkrid agreed with.
If there was anyone strange in Yohan, it would be the family head.
"Come inside."
Enkrid invited her into the room.
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