Chapter 379 - Veeery, Sooo Much

"Andrew, yes. Try it like that."

Nineteen todays had passed. Encrid told Andrew to thrust his sword at him. He needed someone's help now, so he began training to stop Andrew's sword point with his own. "... What a brute-force way to train."

By the time he had heard Andrew express his amazement some thirty-six times, Encrid managed to meet the other sword's point with his own for the first time. They weren't holding still, either. They were moving at a reasonable speed.

Naturally, it wasn't easy. It was difficult. And because it was so difficult, the thrill of success raced through his entire body. Of course, he savored that pleasure and exhilaration only briefly. To truly master it, he would have to repeat the same thing countless times.

Even so, there was no denying how much he enjoyed it. TING!

A clear, bright sound rang out, one seldom heard. "But is this fun?" Andrew asked.

Even as Encrid concentrated on meeting their swords, energy radiated from his entire body. He was delighted, utterly delighted; excited, utterly excited. He seemed to be proving that a child with a toy could play all day, actually doing just that. It looked as though he were wielding pure joy as a weapon with each thrust.

That was Andrew's impression. "Yes. Veeery."

Encrid drew the word out for emphasis. 'Why would this be fun?'

Andrew couldn't understand it, but to Encrid it was only natural. It was the same as always. "You're enjoying this?"

"Yes. Soooo much."

"This?"

"Huh?" CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG.

Sword point met sword point countless times. After hearing Andrew marvel more than forty additional times, Encrid nodded, drenched in sweat.

"That'll do."

Then he called Rem over.

"Rem, swing your axe."

He was changing partners. Rem snorted, grinned, and swung without hesitation. He couldn't allow the slightest error. Nor could he leave an opening for a cunning attack to slip through. Otherwise, he would never turn Rem's axe aside perfectly. A partial deflection wouldn't do. It had to be complete.

That was the beginning. After Meeting Sword Tips came training to deflect Rem's axe. Not an ordinary deflection, either: the goal was to meet its edge with the point of his sword. "Are you fearless, or merely thoughtless? Come here and kneel at once!"

Whenever he was deeply absorbed in training, the constable arrived without fail. Seeing Encrid engrossed in practice, he reacted much the same way every time, and Encrid answered absently.

"Oh, you're here?" By now, he was glad to see him. After all that conditioning and training, it was time for practical combat training.

Feeling the one-sided familiarity built up through repeating today, Encrid raised a hand in greeting. The constable turned red and snorted. He thought Encrid was making fun of him.

Of course, he was. "You son of a bi—"

He subdued the constable, who was about to spout more nonsense, with a kick called persuasion. Then he had Dunbachel demonstrate the gap in strength to the constabulary. After assigning Ragna and Dunbachel to Squire Roford, he sent Rem to save Marcus and greeted the assassins with Jaxon. "Sta—"

He moved before the word was finished, and Jaxon responded by darting sideways. Stealthily, silently. Using the magical artifacts he wore to suppress his sounds and presence, Jaxon vanished. Encrid drew their eyes first, then Jaxon drew them back, leaving the assassins confused. Sensing the greater threat from Jaxon, they began targeting him alone.

After watching this happen several times, Encrid thought they seemed bent on killing Jaxon from the outset.

Why?

The question occurred to him suddenly. Several thoughts crossed his mind, and he let them all pass. His instincts had raised a suspicion, but this wasn't the time to investigate it. He rode Odd-Eyes, met Aesia, and repeated today again.

He managed to turn Rem's strike aside completely sooner than expected. Not that Rem had swung for real. It took only ninety-six tries.

That was possible because his fundamentals were now firmly established. All his training with different weapons helped, too. The more experience one gained, the more one came to understand even the sword one had always used. Of course, Rem scoffed every time he saw it.

"That sort of thing's supposed to come naturally. What a strange body you've got."

In Rem's words, some things became ingrained on their own as one's skill improved, but that never happened for Encrid. Hadn't he compared him to a stone tower that rose only when each stone was laid by hand? And one that required painstaking care and prayers to keep it from collapsing, at that.

It was an apt comparison. Fundamentals or otherwise, nothing became ingrained unless he learned it properly, one piece at a time. What did those who compensated for a lack of talent with effort need most?

Time.

And the curse had given him that time. "What's stranger is how you seem to change overnight."

Even Rem had never seen anyone like him. He clearly had no talent, had reached his limit, had come to the edge of the cliff—and then he walked on empty air. As Rem watched him walk, a path formed beneath his feet.

Encrid had received his axe. He had advanced and improved beyond where he'd been before. His rate of growth was extraordinary. No genius changed overnight. There were always signs, some hint of what was coming. 'No, were the signs already there?'

Rem scratched his head vigorously as he thought. The prepared body, the skills, the hours of training were already there.

So did Encrid possess a talent that accumulated and accumulated before exploding in a single day?

'That makes no sense.'

He saw so many impossible things that he tried to let them pass, but they still amazed him every time. Not that he intended to pry. "Jaxon."

After managing to handle Rem's axe reasonably well, Encrid put Jaxon to use. Of those present, only Jaxon displayed precision comparable to Sinar's sword.

Not that Rem and Ragna lacked it. Their swordplay was also fine and precise. At a sufficiently high level, one learned to do everything. But everyone had strengths, and Jaxon's fine control was on a par with a Fairy's. That was one of his strengths. "Make it waver."

He repeatedly practiced meeting Jaxon's sword point while Jaxon attacked with its tip wavering. Sometimes, after facing Aesia in battle, he tried to stop her.

"Unless you've left a lover back there, why not go later?"

But she wouldn't listen.

"There's something I need to check."

She said the same thing and turned away every time. Then came darkness. Today repeated once more. "Fuck, what did you do?"

In each new today, he saw Rem's surprise, then called over Jaxon, whose eyes shone at the sight, and repeated his training.

Each repeating today held many overlapping events, and he used them as anchors to keep count. The ferryman appeared occasionally and laughed. A laugh brimming with anticipation, perhaps. That was how it sounded and looked to Encrid.

He chuckled, the laughter drifting over the black river. The lamplight swayed along with it. Being mocked didn't bother him. It made no difference whether it was the ferryman or anyone else.

Ever since childhood, he had swung his sword, run, rolled, fought, and risen again amid countless sneers. Mockery was familiar, if anything. That sort of psychological attack had never meant anything to Encrid. He woke from sleep and repeated today again. Trained and honed himself.

Around the time he became able to meet Jaxon's sword point with his own, he also managed to more or less block Aesia's Point Aim by screening it with his blade.

"... How?"

Aesia was several times more astonished. "Kept at it."

This wasn't a moment he could explain away as good luck. The thrill and pleasure racing through his entire body brought an involuntary smile to his face.

Seeing it, Aesia drew her sword back.

"Your face is a weapon, too." She stepped back and aimed her sword again.

"Do it again."

He did. He met her point and screened it.

"Trying to do it like Rem? Sloppy."

With that abrupt remark, she began to waver her sword point. What was this now?

It was an art she hadn't shown in their spars. Her sword point wavered, and soon the dot obscuring his vision became many.

To block it like Rem, he would have to strike each one aside. With repetition and practice, he would eventually learn that, too. But that wasn't the path he would walk. He would stick to his original decision.

'I have to build the process myself, too.'

He had gained everything there was to gain from copying Rem's method. "Did I look easy because every one of those damned bastards broke my technique?" Aesia asked.

There was no resentment in her tone. Encrid's technique of aiming his sword to screen hers was impressive, but he had copied what Rem had shown him. She had expected him to have at least this much talent tucked away. How else could he have honed his swordsmanship and unarmed combat to their present level?

In any case, she was a member of the knight order who had attained the rank of proto knight. She had faced countless challenges like this. They were familiar. "If you thought this was the only thing stopping you, think again."

As she spoke, she lowered her sword point. The dots disappeared—all those wavering dots.

Instead, she began bouncing lightly in place, tapping the ground with her feet to establish a rhythm. Her orange hair swayed to it. Naturally, Point Aim wasn't the only weapon she had. "Let's keep going," she said, maintaining her stance.

"That goes without saying."

Encrid nodded. With that brief exchange over, Silver, Spark, and the dwarf's gift danced and sliced through the air. Opposite him, Aesia's rapier reflected blue light as it thrust, cut, struck, and sometimes came lashing in as though bending.

It was still difficult to block her attacks or subdue her without suffering a single wound. But now he could fight her all day. There was, however, a definite time limit. For whatever reason, this today ended not at midnight but when the sun dropped out of sight. Then today simply repeated.

He knew this from experience. He always had to do his best within the time allotted. "Hah, hah... Why did you suddenly get better?"

Hearing Aesia's question, Encrid smiled and answered.

"This is fun."

"You lunatic."

Seeing him say only what he wanted to, Aesia laughed as well. Inappropriately for their circumstances, she too felt exhilaration as she swung her sword and fought with her life on the line. "See you again."

The sun set. Today repeated.

He was blocked, and so he couldn't get beyond this today. When Encrid opened his eyes again, he decided to imitate Jaxon's method this time.

"Now, the next one."

Muttering to himself to bolster his determination was practically a habit. "The next what?"

He had spoken while warming up with the Isolation Technique, and Andrew asked from beside him.

"Never mind."

After that vague reply, Encrid began imitating Jaxon's method. Jaxon's way of countering Point Aim was to strike before it began. What did that require?

"Prediction. You have to sense your opponent's response just before they begin."

"How?"

"Feel things like the flutter of their eyelashes or the contraction of muscles hidden beneath their clothes."

Easy for him to say. Really. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing."

"That look was rather like the barbarian's."

"What are you talking about, you fucking alley cat? I take offense to that."

Rem cut in. "An altogether unpleasant look, a mixture of rotten frozen fish and eggs."

Ignoring him, Jaxon continued speaking to Encrid, only to find himself facing a thrown axe. He laid his longsword against the axe as it came whirring toward him and twisted. Perfectly timed force sent the axe, which had looked like a spinning disc, rebounding straight upward with a tremendous clang.

CLAAANG!

The exchange was so swift that the sound followed afterward. There was technique woven into the block: Flowing Sword, executed with precision. After blocking it, Jaxon said, "Just now, the barbarian snorted sooner than usual."

Had he been trying to demonstrate?

He had predicted it from a snort? More likely, he had predicted it in the realm of Sixth Sense, built through countless experiences.

Encrid watched their quarrel-cum-spar impassively. Jaxon was always one step ahead. It was just as he had said. Beyond dodging sense and attacking sense, Encrid now had to attune all that intuition and Sixth Sense to a single technique of his opponent's.

Should he call it a predicting sense?

As he began this new training, learning and mastering something new, he found himself muttering again.

"This really is so much fun." Seeing him mutter to himself once more, the ferryman genuinely wanted to click his tongue in disbelief. That lunatic knew nothing of boredom, anguish, or despair. It was as though he were enjoying swinging his sword alone, trapped in an enclosed space.

Repeating today meant he had no one to share his memories with, but that was fine. He didn't care. In truth, Encrid was fine because something did share everything with him.

The process of swinging his sword, the path forward, his accumulating skill, everything that changed—those were his measures of progress. His joy.

He shared today with his sword, so he was fine. He imitated Jaxon's technique, then tried his hand at Ragna's as well. It happened as the fight continued after Aesia declared she would face him with something other than Point Aim.

Encrid's sword grazed her throat. More precisely, he blocked with Silver, drew his gladius, and delivered an unpredictable horizontal cut. With a faint slicing sound, her skin split and droplets of blood rose. Every part of the scene seemed to move slowly.

He had strength to spare. He only had to press on. He knew that. But while his head knew, his heart wouldn't urge him on.

'I reached her.' But he couldn't kill her. Had he followed through, he would have taken a hit somewhere himself, but he could have killed her in that moment. With luck, he would have escaped with a hole in his shoulder; with less luck, a fatal wound.

Whatever the outcome, it had clearly been an opportunity to kill her, yet Encrid stopped.

The same chance never came again. CLANG!

Their swords met, and they traded positions. Aesia stood where Encrid had been, and Encrid where she had been. Blood streamed down his dangling arm. "When an opportunity comes, you have to take it," Aesia said.

They both knew that. Encrid didn't answer.

She lowered her sword.

"Let's stop here. I'll let you through after I check one thing back there. Though whatever you came here for probably won't matter anymore." Again, Encrid didn't answer. With her sword put away, Aesia brushed past him, entirely unguarded.

After she left, he sat motionless as time passed. A short while later, today ended, just like the dozens of todays that had already ended the same way. His vision went black. He passed through the darkness and opened his eyes to a violet lamp.

The ferryman.

Standing aboard the ferry, he spoke.

"That is the wall." He was unusually helpful. With good reason.

"Didn't I tell you it would be entertaining?" the ferryman continued.

Of course, it wasn't entertaining for Encrid at all.