Chapter 227 - Sparring, Sparring, a Test

'How did he get this far?' The rapier swordsman was accustomed to teaching. And if teaching was familiar work, his eye for assessing people had gone beyond familiarity into mastery. A Frog's ability to read talent came from a gift unique to the race, but the rapier swordsman's eye was of a distinctly different kind. His was born of personal talent combined with accumulated experience. To that eye, Encrid's skill had unquestionably improved. So much so that it was hard to believe he had no Will. At times, his eyes flashed as he unleashed a storm of consecutive strikes that cut off the swordsman's retreat. 'The Righteous Sword Technique...'

Mixed with the Heavy Sword. He was truly moving toward something complete. His opponent had exceeded his expectations. Originally, he had held out not the slightest hope. Such had been the man's talent and skill. He could say with certainty that his judgment had never been so wrong before. That resonated deep within the rapier swordsman. It touched his heart and moved him. 'An instructional spar.'

That had been his intention from the start. He had sought to walk the path of a knight, only to turn aside when his talent fell short. Even so, he had never lost to someone without Will. That remained true now. 'He's improved.'

It was astonishing, and the man's skill was indeed impressive. Yet the black-haired man before him still could not face a genuine proto knight. That was his assessment. CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

Their swords collided again and again, throwing sparks. Amid the ceaseless flurry, blue eyes left a streak in their wake. 'His footwork, too...'

Was no trifling matter. He had surpassed human limits. That much was certain. Against men who had grown lazy on the strength of their middling talent? The man before him would win. Then why had Swallow Blade bested him? Having watched that fight and now crossed blades with him, the swordsman knew. 'If his aim is to fight rather than kill, if sparring comes first...'

Swallow Blade was the opposite. He had fought to kill. Yet there had only been a hair's breadth between them. As the swordsman saw it, the difference was merely who had taken the first step. And Swallow Blade had not even noticed. Hadn't the man's skill improved beyond recognition? It was enough to astonish him time and again. That was why the memory of telling him to give up had nagged at him, bringing him to take up his sword like this. He began slowly and evenly. There would be no need to bring his full skill to bear. Even so, his attacks were fast and strong, with the Flowing Sword woven into them. He blended suppleness with speed, striking as he deflected and deflecting as he struck. He meant to show Encrid that such swordsmanship existed. He also engaged him in a game of moves and countermoves. Advising someone to explore only one form of the Oniak Sword Technique would be misguided teaching. One could have a specialty, but learning all five forms was the proper approach. At the very least, one needed a passing acquaintance with them. Why? Because one had to understand something to block it, to evade it, to do anything about it. That was why. In that respect, the rapier swordsman forced Encrid to encounter variety in swordsmanship. He also showed him that a game of moves and countermoves need not take the form of the Righteous Sword Technique. For instance: 'Deflect...'

As he moved to deflect the sword, Encrid's eyes flashed. He had been waiting for this. He brought down a vertical slash that looked capable of cleaving anything. It was a lightning strike of a cut. Facing it, the rapier swordsman made as if to block with his blade, then twisted aside. The Flowing Sword Technique: deflecting without contact. The sword that had become a lightning bolt passed tantalizingly close, cutting empty air. WHOOSH!

The sound of it slicing the air rang clear. Should one call it an advanced sword technique, or a masterfully executed one? When the swordsman then raised his point and thrust, Encrid's stance naturally broke. From there, the advantage belonged to the rapier swordsman. He pressed on, slowly, little by little. It was an art called frog-killing. To kill a frog in boiling water, one began with cold water and heated it gradually. The foundation of this swordsmanship was pressure. It spoke through the blade. 'You cannot get past this. This is where you end.'

Under that relentless assault, the opponent would become trapped, brought to a standstill. Encrid had encountered a wall he could not surmount with the Heart of the Superhuman, his dodging sense, or any swordsmanship he had learned. Did that leave him discouraged? He had no time for it, and even if he had, he was not a man who thought that way. He simply kept swinging his sword with steady weight. But the rapier swordsman watching him was not particularly pleased by this, either. The spar was unfolding entirely differently from what he had expected. In short, he could see no spark of brilliance in his opponent. 'Wasn't he a genius I'd failed to recognize?'

Otherwise, that rate of growth made no sense. So why was there no flash of brilliance? Why was the hue of his talent so dull? He had expected the frog to leap out of the pot. He had hoped to see it at least stretch out a leg, but it was merely withering away. "Let's stop here."

"Whew, whew. Thank you for the fine lesson."

Encrid paid his respects. The spar merited it. This man sought neither his life nor his fame. He had appeared out of nowhere and given him instruction. "I'll fight today, too."

The half-Giant stepped forward with sword and shield. The spar had placed no strain on Encrid's body. He only needed to catch his breath. He nodded. Their fight was much like the previous one. Its ferocity and violence made the spectators dizzy. If the fight against Swallow Blade had threatened to leave him pierced or severed at any moment, the battle with the half-Giant looked liable to crush or pulverize some part of him at any second. Encrid held on. His injuries were on much the same level as the first day. This time, the half-Giant demonstrated the trick of gripping her sword by the tip and swinging it like a club. She also moved her shield up and down to deceive his eyes. Encrid countered by blending the Heavy Sword with the Righteous Sword and pressing her hard. He seemed to be applying what the rapier swordsman had just taught him. Of course, the swordsman watching was not satisfied. 'He hasn't improved.'

A genius ought to show a change after even one spar. Yet this fellow Encrid was ordinary at best. That bothered him. His brow furrowed of its own accord. "All right, that's it for today. If you're bored, you can each take a commission to deal with demonic beasts nearby. The pay is generous, and it'll help you let off steam."

"That sounds good."

Swallow Blade brightened at Krais's words. His hands were itching so badly he could hardly stand it. Above all, neither of the two fighters he had watched today looked easy to handle. One was his worst possible match, while the other seemed to be concealing his true skill. 'Fucking bastards.'

But he couldn't simply run away. Whatever his reasons, Black Blade might send an execution squad after him if he fled. Hadn't he spent the bandits' Krona like water? It was indeed time to stake his life. More than anything, the urge to murder made his blood boil. If he ran from here, he would have trouble using his blade as he pleased for a while. 'Ah, I want to kill.'

He craved the feeling of piercing tender flesh. But he could hardly kill some vagrant in the city only to get beaten to death by a mob. He couldn't just murder anyone. If he tried anything, the men around him looked ready to come at him foaming at the mouth. Every last one had fierce eyes and formidable skill. 'I'm well and truly fucking stuck.'

He hadn't expected an easy job, but this had become one complication after another.

'I'll cut up some demonic beasts, at least.'

It was a sensible decision. Krais nodded and spoke to the soldier who had joined them.

"Yes, this way."

The soldier led Swallow Blade away, bringing the day's sparring to an end. Encrid had to be half-carried back. His thigh muscles trembled so badly he could not walk.

"A little rest will fix this," he said.

"Sure it will."

"It will heal, yes, but repeated strain can do lasting harm, brother. We are told that faith is good, but overconfidence is to be avoided." Audin recited a little of the scriptures along with his advice. In other words, trusting his body was all well and good, but he should exercise moderation.

"Mm. I will."

Encrid nodded. Of course, not even a dog would have believed him. "Let's have a light hand-blade spar when we get to the quarters," Ragna said.

"Sharpening your senses makes it easier to anticipate a move ahead," Jaxon added beside him. They all seemed to have plenty to say. More precisely, they seemed none too pleased to watch Encrid being beaten. Was it different when they were the ones doing the beating? Encrid paid it no mind. What did that matter? He had a mountain of things to do right now. He learned and practiced, but still could not get things right in one attempt. There was no helping that. Then he need only proceed one step at a time again. At least something akin to talent now resided in his body, so he was no longer standing still as before. That alone was tremendous progress. With those stray thoughts, Encrid returned to the quarters and continued with a hand-blade spar against Ragna.

"And with those injuries, too."

Pin shook her head in disbelief at the sight. Pin looked fairly busy herself these days. After whispering with the Fairy Company Commander, she had begun going out frequently before dawn.

"Where do you keep going off to play lately?"

Perhaps bored, Rem asked. Pin gave a casual answer while sorting her belongings, without even looking at him.

"I hear night dew is good for the skin." "... I think she's making fun of me."

Rem muttered. Encrid privately agreed, but took Pin's side.

"You're imagining slights. You have a habit of taking offense at what people say." This was not revenge. It certainly wasn't because Rem kept saying there was something broken in his head.

"Hmm?"

When Rem frowned, Ragna pushed Dunbachel forward.

"Go on. Go do your job."

And what was that job? "Huh?"

Dunbachel approached Rem against her will.

"Ah, right. Time to train. We've been slacking lately, haven't we?"

It was only the second day since her twice-daily beatings had been reduced to once a day. What did he mean, slacking? When Dunbachel cursed him with her eyes, Rem looked pleased.

"Yes, those eyes, that venom! Good. Let's have a real lively beat—no, training session today!"

Dunbachel wanted to cry, but her pride held back the tears. The two went out, and Encrid continued his game of moves and countermoves. He passed the time that way, then, once his body had healed, caught hold of one of the guests staying at the inn for another spar. Swallow Blade was a master of sharp cuts and unpredictable, unconventional attacks. There was something to learn from him, too. The half-Giant wielded sword and shield with weighty force. Hers was a harmony of the Heavy Sword Technique and shield arts. There was some Righteous Sword Technique mixed in, but the deeper he probed, the more varied her Heavy Sword and shield techniques proved to be. And the shield charging technique that had caught him at the beginning remained a threat. At the slightest opening, she drove forward with her monstrous stamina. Encrid did not lag behind in stamina alone, but her sheer size was a deadly weapon in its own right. The rapier swordsman remained unchanged, repeating the same thing every time. Edin Molsen kept challenging him, too, but was no match. After being knocked hard onto his back and losing consciousness in their third spar, he became less ready to demand another bout. Instead, his bodyguard stepped forward. "Your name?"

"You don't need to know."

He was a blunt, prickly man. Encrid didn't care. Nor did he care why the man was only stepping forward now. He was simply glad to have another worthy sparring opponent. As he smiled at the thought, the bodyguard spoke.

"You're certainly not normal."

Encrid paid him no heed. His opponent's swordsmanship was based on the Flowing Sword Technique. He deflected attacks and thrust into openings. Encrid found it familiar. He seemed to have seen it before. It was no mistake. These were things he would not forget, having gone over them in countless sessions of Review. 'This...'

It was a technique someone from Aspen had used. Specifically, the man he had cut down with his left hand. Some opponents had names one could not forget. That man's name was Mitch Hurrier. The Hurrier family symbolized Aspen's martial might. So, was this opponent a spy? Not his concern. It was enough that the man made a good sparring partner. So they sparred. They fought and clashed. They were evenly matched in skill, and victory would not come easily. Encrid placed no great weight on winning. "If you'd been trying to kill him, you could've done it a hundred times over."

Rem chided him because he did not believe dogged swordsmanship was all Encrid had.

"And what would I have left if I killed him?" This was no battlefield. These were simply people who had come to test their skill. When the moment called for speaking through swordsmanship, that was how he wanted to speak. "There he goes smiling again. Is this fun for you?"

Swallow Blade smiled often. His smile deepened, and his tone grew sharper. He frequently took issue with Encrid's smile while smiling himself. And all the while, he faced Encrid in bout after bout. At some point, Encrid became the only thing in Swallow Blade's mind. It was filled with thoughts of killing his opponent, with no other urges intruding. Only one person remained. All his murderous intent converged on Encrid. Even for Swallow Blade, this was a first. The half-Giant had a similar experience, though what she felt was something other than murderous intent.

'Why does he keep coming at me?' She held the advantage. That much was certain. If this man Encrid had meant to kill, then yes, he might have been able to kill someone like Swallow Blade. But the others were beyond him. In truth, Swallow Blade likely had a hidden trump card, too, so a fight to the death would be a fifty-fifty prospect. That was her judgment. But was he gaining anything from these spars? Why, then, was he so delighted?

"Good. It's you today."

Why was he so happy, despite all the beatings she gave him? As he lifted his sword with a faint smile, the emotion on his face was unmistakable. Even she, unskilled at reading emotions, could see it clearly. He was like a child. A child in a moment of sheer delight. Such joyful innocence, as though his birthday party were about to begin. She had heard the man was not especially young. Why, then, did he wear that expression?

"Let's begin."

How could he sound so cheerful? She did not understand. One thing was certain: everything about him was making her blood boil. It was the urge to fight, the desire to win. The Giant blood mingled within her surged. In this moment, she was not a Cultist, but a warrior. And for the first time, she felt that she wanted to be a warrior rather than a believer. Something etched into her through childhood indoctrination began to crack. It was a moment in which she recognized and understood desire, apart from the evil cult's teachings and orders. Something she had felt dimly throughout her life welled up. Feelings she had never once allowed to show, private thoughts unknown to the bishop or anyone else, tangled within her chest. "You're a truly strange man."

The half-Giant spoke. Her delivery was awkward, but her meaning was clear.

"I told you from the start. He's broken up here."

Behind the man called Encrid, his gray-haired subordinate twirled a finger beside his head. She had ignored that behavior at first. Now she understood it.

"Yes. You're broken," the half-Giant said.

And so was she. Encrid extended his sword as though it did not matter.

"I said, let's fight."

He simply yearned for battle. He laid his longing bare. He enjoyed the moment. Before she knew it, something resembling a smile had formed on the half-Giant's lips. Enjoying the fight itself was something entirely new to her, a first experience. She filled with that newness. As a sense of fulfillment rose from meaningless swordplay, she could not help smiling, too. And so the indiscriminate sparring continued, countless bouts, more than a dozen or so against each opponent. Sometimes Encrid was badly hurt. Sometimes he came away with only minor injuries. After all those spars, one after another, the rapier swordsman shook his head.

"No, he isn't, after all. This is his limit. Still, I could have misjudged him, so I ought to test him. Can he overcome it? That's all I'm curious about."

Muttering those disjointed thoughts to himself, the rapier swordsman faced Encrid. Just as Encrid wondered what he meant, countless blades erupted from the rapier swordsman's body. He had experienced this before, from Aesia, a Knight of the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order. Will. Formless blades imbued with determination pounded every inch of Encrid's body. It was intimidation.