Chapter 234 - Pell Was a Genius

'What did he just do?'

Of course, no one present was blind. They had all seen what Encrid had done and understood it. 'Dodge, close in, and strike.'

A sequence of movements anyone could easily perform. Yet this was different. Being able to do something and doing it with such ease were worlds apart. Had Encrid achieved that result through some unusual swordsmanship or trickery, they would have admired his astonishing ingenuity, but they would not have been this shocked. "Hm?"

The half-Giant's eyebrow twitched. So did Swallow Blade's beside her. He suddenly clamped a hand around his sword's grip. It was reflexive. 'If he did that to me now, could I stop him?'

He could. He had seen it coming.

'Then what if we started without me having seen it?' It was not yet the season for cold, but he felt as though a chilling wind were blowing. Swallow Blade released his sword and rubbed his arm for no particular reason. A chill ran through him, raising gooseflesh. 'What the hell is that bastard?'

It had only been a few days. Swallow Blade was not the only one stunned. Rem and all the others who could be called Encrid's allies were, too. None of his company members showed or voiced their surprise, however. In truth, they were getting somewhat used to it. That did not mean they understood. This had happened a few times before, so they simply did not show their shock. 'What could he have done?'

As Rem stroked his chin and wondered, Audin was thinking much the same thing. 'Even if the Isolation Technique changes one's constitution...'

Could talent spring into existence like that? Audin knew his own eye and judgment. Through the Isolation Technique, he could read a person's body as well. He was different from the Frog called a talent reader, but he, too, could discern talent. In his eyes, Encrid had never set foot in the realm of the talented. He was no genius. Genius? It was difficult even to call him gifted. 'Through persistence alone.'

That steadfastness that knew no surrender. Never retreating before any trial of suffering God set him. And so he stood there now. In that, Audin saw God's will. God spoke. The Father conveyed His will.

Will you give up? Why? Because I have not granted what you wished? So your faith reached only that far.

So the flower of your faith has withered.

So your spring has passed.

So your season has ended. "No, Father," Audin murmured. Though Audin spoke right beside him, Ragna did not look away. No, he did not even hear him. He was too busy watching Encrid. 'Again?'

He had changed. Astonishing. That was all. Encrid had changed, Ragna was surprised, and now he had registered it. Seeing Encrid improve was becoming familiar. How had he improved? How could he change like that? Ragna had stopped looking for a reason. Knowing would change nothing, and he could not find out anyway. The answer he would get if he asked was obvious.

"I've been working hard."

If Encrid happened to throw in a joke, it would be:

"Turns out I'm a genius."

Something like that. So there was no need to ask. He could only accept reality. Everyone was surprised, but the most surprised was Edin Molsen, who had taken the hit. The next most surprised was Encrid himself. "Again!"

Edin Molsen sprang to his feet. He was remarkably unhurt, considering the blow he had taken. Encrid had instinctively pulled his strike. More precisely, as he extended his hand at the very end, he had felt that hitting with full force would leave the Count's son coughing up blood. So he had eased off, which was why Edin Molsen could spring up and run his mouth again. Encrid blinked three times, taking in what had just happened. 'Ah.'

A brief realization followed. Sparks struck from flint flickered to life in his mind, then vanished.

'Pell.' Why had he struggled so desperately to win the moment he first met that Shepherd of the Wastes?

'Because he's a genius.'

A genius younger than himself. He had given Encrid the same impression as the child who had knocked him down when he first ventured out onto the continent. In short, Pell was a genius. And that genius had raised his own level to match Encrid's growth. During his repeating today, Encrid had kept Pell from drawing his sword, but with the sword in hand, Pell was no easy opponent. His habits changed frequently, and he corrected his flaws as they arose. Encrid was the one trapped in a repeating today, yet his opponent changed too. Thus he had been unable to feel how much he was improving. His opponent was simply too talented. 'It's thanks to Pell.'

Distracted by that sword, he had failed to see it clearly. No, he had recognized his opponent's excellence, but not how he himself was changing to match it. Only after understanding all this did Encrid speak.

"Certainly."

He nodded in acceptance of Edin Molsen's proposal. He, too, wanted to move again and feel the difference. It was something he needed to recognize and properly assess. "... You."

The rapier swordsman seemed equally shocked, unable to continue. His mouth hung open, the corners of his eyes trembling. Rather than answer him, Encrid faced Edin Molsen. "Don't count on the goddess of luck!"

Edin spoke fiercely. He meant that the previous victory had been luck. Once again, he brought his sword down. WHOOSH. Encrid dodged in advance. When fighting Pell, he had needed to predict his movements from his feet, shoulders, hands, arms, waist, and more. Otherwise, he would be wounded in an instant, and the spar would end right there. This was what he had gained then. He opened his Sixth Sense and put it to proper use. His senses ranged freely, reading his opponent's sword strike. It was the reward for countless spars and for fighting his way back up the river of death. Having evaded the sword, Encrid pressed down on Edin's wrist, hooked his left foot behind his opponent's heel, and shoved his chest with his palm. Edin tried to twist away in resistance, but despite attacking first, he had lost everything: position, balance, and timing. Edin went flying. A moment later, he landed with a thud and gaped, opening and closing his mouth like a carp. Come to think of it, Encrid had thrown him with the same technique when they first met, back when he had mistaken him for a coachman or a guard. It was the balance-breaking technique from Balaf-style martial arts. "Are you all right?"

At Encrid's question, Edin's face reddened. Two bouts, both with much the same result. Worse, the second had used a move he had already fallen for before. He could not insist that the goddess of luck had intervened. Even Edin was not that shameless. He rose to his feet.

"I lost."

Having spoken, he turned away. Then he stopped and looked back to ask,

"Did you truly forget my name?" Encrid studied his face for a moment. He ought to remember. His memory was quite good, too. Yet nothing came to mind. What would happen if he said he really did not know? Before Edin Molsen's face could twist,

"Brother, he was provoking you. What good does asking do?"

A clear voice called him back. It was a younger brother whose blood relationship was obvious at a glance. At his brother's words, Edin clicked his tongue, turned his head, and walked away. He looked both frustrated and somehow relieved. It was an odd expression. His brother merely stared straight at Encrid, expressionless. It was difficult to read any emotion in those eyes. Encrid turned his head. There were others left: Swallow Blade, the half-Giant, Count Molsen's bodyguard, and the rapier swordsman. "Who's first?"

Barely had he asked when the answer came.

"Me."

The half-Giant stepped forward, the warrior thumping her shield with her hand.

"Let's fight." Until four hundred-odd days ago, Encrid had thrown himself into sparring with them like a madman. He fought. He did not retreat. And in the process, some things had changed. Changes he had not intended, but which had come about naturally. The half-Giant's fighting spirit blazed. She herself knew full well that her mood and state of mind were different from usual. 'I don't know what he's done, but...'

This man before her had a real gift for making her want to fight him. A gift for making her ponder sword and shield morning and night. Above all... "I'll beat you."

His gift for rousing her competitive spirit, her hunger for victory, was unmatched. Had there ever been someone she absolutely wanted to defeat? No. This was the first time. That was why the corners of her mouth twisted upward. A smile. She was smiling. Encrid was inwardly taken aback by the sight.

'I thought she hardly ever showed an expression.'

He remembered that clearly. He might have forgotten Edin Molsen's name, but the half-Giant's face, specialties, and skill remained vivid. Encrid extended his sword, and the half-Giant tapped it aside with her own. TING. It was a greeting. Then her shield blocked his view. A gray rampart, the half-Giant's specialty, and a technique he had suffered through many times. Back then, he had needed footwork to break through it and counterattack. Now there was no need. As the shield filled his vision, Encrid charged straight at it. He neither circled around nor danced nimbly on his feet. It was a stubborn, head-on rush. Closing right against the shield, he transferred his sword to his left hand. He laid it sideways, pressing the flat against the shield's upper edge, then turned his stance and set the outside of his right foot against its lower edge. This naturally brought his side against the shield. His right hand was already braced a little below its center. The force driving into him was tremendous, but the shield also prevented the half-Giant from seeing all his movements at such close quarters. No matter how skilled someone was, an unseen attack could still catch them. Against the charging shield, Encrid used a modified lift-and-throw from Balaf-style martial arts. "Excellent, brother!"

Audin cried out despite himself. Letting the cry wash past him, Encrid accomplished exactly what he intended. Up she went. He turned the incoming force against her, lifting from below. Had his strength been inadequate, he would have become a mantis crushed beneath a carriage the instant he tried. But he had the Heart of the Superhuman. Grown stronger and sturdier throughout his repeating today, that heart sent his blood surging. His right foot and hand pushed away while his left hand and torso took the force and lifted her over. Encrid inhaled silently, braced his abdomen with pressure, and hurled her upward. It was a sight to make both the half-Giant being thrown and everyone watching stare wide-eyed in astonishment. Never before had she experienced her body flying through the air, much less at someone else's hands. She sailed through the air in shock. The sight seemed to defy some fundamental law. As she fell, the half-Giant instinctively turned her shield downward. THUD! She used the shield to perform something like a breakfall, so she suffered no serious injury. But it delayed her next defense. Having thrown his opponent exactly as intended, Encrid already had his sword thrust at her throat. The blade stopped just short of her skin. The half-Giant realized she had lost. "... You threw me?"

She spoke in astonishment.

"Why? First time? Everyone has a first time."

Encrid answered as though it were nothing. His impudent tongue sometimes moved ahead of his intentions. "I see."

The half-Giant acknowledged her defeat. Encrid, of course, did not think losing meant she needed to leave. Above all, a little luck had helped him this time. She had not been able to gauge his skill. He had changed so suddenly that she had not prepared accordingly. She was not an opponent who should lose this easily. Having fought her, Encrid knew that better than anyone. Which was why he could say,

"Let's try again tomorrow."

The half-Giant stared at him. Large brown eyes. Until now, those eyes had held no emotion, but now something seemed to dwell in them. "You're a truly strange fellow."

Then she added, "Yes. Let's try again," and rose. She seemed remarkably hearty and good-humored. "Well, you sure can throw."

Behind him, Rem expressed admiration in his own way. "Could you face me as well?"

What could one say? Was the half-Giant the only person Encrid had influenced? There was also the bodyguard, quietly stoking his own fervor. Encrid rolled his arm in circles.

'Just now...'

Had the Heart of the Superhuman not burst a little more fiercely? Rem had not admired his throw for nothing. He would have seen it: the heart releasing power more dynamically. This, too, was a result of repeating today. "All right."

Encrid nodded. He was starting to enjoy himself. This was the process of recognizing his changes through sparring and putting them to use. How could it not be fun? The spar with the bodyguard was unlike the one with the half-Giant. He was cautious from the outset, his sword entirely devoted to defense. Encrid swung slowly at first, then gradually increased his speed. Watching them, the rapier swordsman realized that Encrid was gauging what he could now do. A question naturally arose.

'What the hell is this bastard?'

How could someone change so much in just a few days? It was not that the man had suddenly learned some extraordinary technique. Rather, every technique he already possessed...

'Has been honed.' He looked as though he had tested his techniques countless times with his life on the line. Having spent that time, he was certain of them. The swordsman could also see the stubbornness of a man who had swung his sword countless times in search of the right path. Not in a bad sense. Someone who had wandered endlessly down wrong paths would not hesitate upon finding the right one. Traces of all that showed in every swing of his sword, every step he took. 'How?'

The accumulation of years was now visible in Encrid's body. That much was certain, though the swordsman could not understand how. His eyes had caught it. It was truly, utterly incomprehensible. Their spar lasted quite some time, but the bodyguard ultimately lost. He had been at a disadvantage from the start and devoted himself to defense. No, this was not an opponent he could beat while concealing his skill. The Count's bodyguard had held back his true abilities. Of course, that was none of the swordsman's concern. Only then did the rapier swordsman step forward. He took his place facing Encrid across the sparring ground. It was time to crush and subdue his opponent with intimidation. "Improving your skill will change nothing."

He had honed the abilities he possessed? What would that change? Will was the exclusive province of those born with the gift. If wanting it, working for it, and having enough time were all it took...

'Anyone could do it.' Then knights would not be so rare in this world. If effort were enough, knight orders would be twice as numerous as they were now. That was why he was certain. His opponent could not overcome his intimidation. "Back down."

As he spoke, the rapier swordsman roused his determination. Formless blades sprang into being. Encrid responded by knocking aside every formless blade he saw. That was what he normally did. What he had done before. But now it was different. CLINK. Encrid slid his sword back into its scabbard. There was no need to swing it. The moment he faced the intimidation, he understood.