Chapter 138 - He Had to Endure

"Do you really have to use two swords?"

Rem asked after their spar. They had worked up quite a sweat—or rather, only Encrid had. Rem was dry. "Yes."

Encrid nodded from where he sat on the ground. Rem opened his mouth, then stopped. More precisely, the look on Encrid's face made him swallow what he had been about to say. Things like: "Want me to explain what a fucking stupid idea dual wielding is?"

"Did you think having two swords would just double your attacks?"

"Stop screwing around and stick to one sword. Listen to me before I split that blue sword of yours with my axe."

Things of that sort. Rem kept his tongue in check, resting it against the roof of his mouth as he thought. Well, he had received axes as a gift, after all.

The axes Encrid had brought him were better than expected. Their faint blue sheen proved that good iron had been properly refined. Unmistakably Valeri steel. Judging by their strength and the quality of the forging, these axes looked likely to last quite a while. He liked them very much, in other words. So... 'Leave him be.'

Of course, the axes were only an excuse. In truth, the look on Encrid's face had made him give up on nagging. Sometimes Encrid wore that expression. Whenever he muttered about dreaming of becoming a knight, or how it was a good day to swing a sword, or how he would train in whatever spare time he had, battlefield or not, stubbornness showed on his face.

No, should he call it resolve? Though Encrid was far too matter-of-fact for that word. Whatever it was, that composure above all else marked a line in him that could not be touched. Rem must have a line like that himself. And Encrid alone had respected it all this time. 'If he keeps at it and gets his hands tangled up, stalls, and trips himself up, well...'

He would quit then. Lately, there had been plenty of talk about Encrid being a late-blooming genius, or awakening at thirty.

'Is that thanks to me? Sure, I deserve some credit.'

But fundamentally, if one dug deeper, it was something Encrid himself had accomplished, by himself, on his own. At least, that was how Rem saw it. Encrid had never given up, never lost heart. Without so much as considering despair, he had doggedly pressed forward.

Forward, even if he had to crawl.

Those words came back to Rem. Was that what made him keep watching? Or did he watch because Encrid was different from him?

Rem was a wanderer who had abandoned everything and left. It would be fair to say he had been born with everything, talent included, but... 'I threw it away.'

He had turned his back and looked away. His Platoon Commander, on the other hand—this unflappable, stubborn Platoon Commander—had not. All he had in his hand was a sword. One well-sharpened sword. Nothing more.

Yet he walked on, not knowing what lay at the end of that road, never questioning what qualified someone to walk it, never whining about how hard it was. He said he simply enjoyed it, because it was the road he had chosen and set for himself.

What sort of person could do that? Rem's feelings were complicated. Learning the Heart of the Superhuman in a single day? Well, that was surprising, but he could take it in stride. Geniuses did exist in this world. It was remarkable that his own Platoon Commander had done it, but still. 'I guided him through it myself, demonstrated it, checked his condition.'

With that much help, he ought to be able to imitate it, at least. His attitude toward life, though—that was truly hard to imitate. His thoughts concluded, Rem moved the tongue he had kept pressed to the roof of his mouth.

"I think I like you, Platoon Commander."

"... Did someone drug your food?"

"I mean I like beating you up."

"Oh, right. That sounds like you."

Encrid took it in stride. As Rem watched him a little longer, the directionless bastard who usually did nothing but sulk and laze about poked his face in.

"Done sparring?"

"I think I fucking hate you." Rem put his whole heart into it. There must be no misunderstanding here, so he spoke with absolute, genuine sincerity. The way Encrid did.

"Yeah, same here."

Ragna nodded, even wearing a faint smile. He sounded utterly in agreement. His face was rather pretty to begin with, and that smile only made Rem want to smash it in even more. "That goes for me as well."

The sly wildcat bastard chimed in from one side, arms folded. When had he come out? For someone who usually went about without a word, his mouth was working just fine now. "Brother. All things in this world rest in the Lord's embrace. Of course, the Lord also soothes the feelings within each human heart. Yes, I too am human. How could I hide my feelings merely because I am His servant? I feel the same way. Ha ha."

The hulking religious nut spoke as he pulled off his shirt. It was thoroughly irritating. All that fine wrapping amounted to nothing more than saying, I fucking hate you. Why babble on about it? Yet even with those insufferable bastards adding their comments, Rem felt good for no reason. Truly, no reason at all. Watching the man called Encrid did that to him.

Still in that cheerful mood—a little buoyant, in fact—Rem decided to bestow some consideration and kindness. "Youngest!"

Andrew's shoulders twitched at Rem's voice, but he soon rose proudly.

'Making the enemy in my mind bigger means I'm overestimating my opponent. And overestimating him means conceding defeat before I've even begun.'

With his resolve firm, Andrew drew his sword. SHING. "I like how quick you catch on, you little shit."

Rem strode over, his feet pressing hard into the ground. His keen-edged axe swung back and forth from his shoulder like a pendulum. The swaying blade was rather chilling. "... If you beg for your life, I'll step in."

Mac spoke from behind him. Andrew nodded. He was grateful to the man, from his help in rebuilding the family to all the times he had stood against Rem with him lately. But Mac, why are you backing away as you say that?

Hmm? If you go that far, won't it be hard to help in an emergency?

I feel like you're getting too far away. "You can do this, Master Gardner. You are the one hero who can restore the Gardner family."

Why are you saying that from so far away? And why are you suddenly calling me Gardner? Didn't you usually call me Andrew, even dropping the formalities sometimes? I'm pretty sure you did. Mac kept retreating, finally stopping only when he reached Encrid. If one wished to escape the lunatics in this platoon, there was only one sanctuary. And that was it. Andrew could not head for that sanctuary. There was the last of his pride to consider, and the undeniable fact that the more he fought this mad barbarian, the better he became.

For tomorrow, not today. Just as he had learned from watching his Platoon Commander. "Let's have at it, you arrogant barbarian."

"Hm? You're saying I can chop off an arm?"

His dull gray eyes were sincere.

"Bullshit."

Andrew fought desperately. Desperation was his only answer. Encrid watched all of this from the ground. He had gone all out against Rem. With two swords, he had given it everything.

The Heart of the Superhuman had indeed lent his arms unbelievable strength. His muscular power had increased dramatically. That did not mean he could immediately call what he did dual wielding, though. He had not pressed Rem as hard as he did with one sword. He could feel his lack of training. 'I just can't get used to it.'

Encrid looked at his callused palms. He was not blaming his talent all over again. He simply felt that he needed time.

What should he do, then? "Are you going to rest?"

The answer stood before him. Ragna asked with unprecedented enthusiasm.

Why? He did not know why Ragna acted this way only with him, but it was not a bad thing. Absolutely not. Knowing that all too well, Encrid braced a hand against his thigh, where Rem's kick was certain to leave a bruise, and stood. "No."

Ragna gave a nod, as though he had expected that, and drew his sword.

"Will you use two?"

"Yes."

Ragna asked no further questions. It was strange. Encrid had expected both Rem and Ragna to stop him if he said he would use two swords at once. If not those two, then at least Jaxon or Audin.

With swordsmanship this clumsy, even Andrew, Mac, or Krais could have said something. Yet nobody opened their mouth to criticize him. Truly peculiar.

Still, he did not ask. Instead, he swung his swords, tightening his grip on both. What was the most effective way to use two swords? Thinking it through was the answer, so he pondered and worked at it.

He had not simply been idling away his time. While making the Heart of the Superhuman his own, he had also practiced handling two swords. Yet it was still clumsy, like a sculpture whose shape remained unrecognizable no matter how much he carved away. And so Encrid's hands were busy, clumsy, and disorganized. Ragna knocked aside each of his strikes and ended the fight much as Rem had.

In other words, he seized an overwhelming advantage and subdued him. "Hmm."

He started to say something, then closed his mouth.

"Huff, huff, haaah." Utterly out of breath, Encrid braced his right hand on his thigh and planted the sword in his left in the ground, sweat dripping from him. He was bent halfway over, head hanging toward the ground. Sweat on his forehead ran down to the tip of his nose and dripped onto the earth. What should he call this? Brutal training? Though, for that...

His arms and legs shook violently. A side effect of the Heart of the Superhuman breaking his muscles' limits for a moment. While Ragna remained silent, Audin stepped in.

"You have overdone it, Brother Platoon Commander."

Encrid lifted his head slightly to look at him. Audin wore his usual smile—the one he wore during the Isolation Technique—as he spoke. What was this? That expression usually concealed a devil's intentions.

"I mean you must rest." "Rest?"

"No Isolation Technique either, brother."

What was going on? Normally, the man could never get enough of making him train, of tormenting him. "I'll... I'll talk to you later."

Ragna spoke, lost in thought. Encrid tried to straighten up, only to topple sideways. As though he had been waiting for it, Audin caught him.

"Let's go inside." "Don't we have any duty or assignments today?"

"Even if we do, you cannot go, Brother Platoon Commander."

Was that so? Encrid had vaguely sensed it himself. The Heart of the Superhuman was a fine weapon. A fine art. That momentary increase in strength could provide the foundation to cross swords even with a monster like a Frog. With enough skill, he could even meet a Giant's blow as Rem had.

The sight of Rem's back as he stood in the Giant's path had been deeply impressive. Enough to make Encrid a little envious. Having seen that, there was no chance he would give up the Heart of the Superhuman. Audin supported him.

"Let me wash first."

Even with his limbs trembling, Encrid carefully secured his gear. "Honestly, why do you do nothing but fight every day?"

Krais chided him for no particular reason, even as his hands moved busily to help.

"Go wash. I'll take care of the maintenance."

"On my gear?" "How many years do you think I've spent eating army black bread? Do you know how many Krona I've earned maintaining equipment? I'm probably better than most blacksmiths."

Come to think of it, he was right. What did Krais do when he had no women, tobacco, or anything else to sell? He was always making the rounds of the other units' barracks. Maintaining equipment was both an easy way for him to befriend soldiers in other units and a skill that earned him extra income. Except for those men who treated their weapons like lovers, weapon maintenance was evidently more of a nuisance than one might think.

Encrid treasured his own weapons too—his swords and his armor—but Krais could be trusted. Sure enough, by the time he finished washing, Krais had even polished his swords to a shine.

"If I draw this on a moonlit night, it'll make a fine signal to tell everyone where I am."

"That's a compliment, right?"

"Yes." "Sometimes, Captain, even your compliments are... how should I put it? Very you."

Before Encrid could ask Krais what that meant, Audin approached. Encrid had just dried himself and sat down on his cot. Audin's bulk cast a shadow over them, and a startled Krais hastily backed away.

"What the—A-Audin? What is it?"

"I have business with Brother Platoon Commander." He smiled and smiled. A bear's smile. A huge predator's smile. Or the smile of a devil with something planned.

This didn't look good, Encrid thought.

Then Audin's hands touched his body. "When you overwork your muscles, they inevitably knot up. There is a way to release those knots. That will be the technique I teach you this time."

At the mention of teaching and learning, Encrid's defensive attitude changed.

"What is it?" A smile. Instead of a name, another smile.

It was ominous, as he had thought, and his foreboding proved correct.

"Ghk, uuurgh. Grrrk." As Audin's fingers began pressing and twisting here and there over his body, Encrid felt excruciating pain. His vision went black. He thought he could faintly make out the ferryman of the black river. It felt as though he had dipped his feet into the river of death and come back.

Pain fierce enough to warrant that impression gouged and pressed through his entire body. "This is how you release knotted muscles. When I learned it, we commonly called it blood, sweat, and tears."

Was that the technique's name? Surely it couldn't be.

But he could not even contemplate asking now. Searing pain raced through his entire body again, leaving no room for words. A time of pain so intense he could not even properly scream had arrived. Of course, since it was certainly not the sort of thing that would damage Encrid's body, he had to endure.