Chapter 42 - I Was Lucky

As Ragna discussed the technique called Concentrate on a Single Point, he asked, "Will you learn it?"

"Of course."

Encrid did not hesitate. 'When did he improve this much?'

His Northern Heavy Sword fundamentals were solid. Nor had he merely learned the stances by swinging at empty air. He had honed them in actual combat until they fit him like a second skin. 'Impressive.'

The Squad Leader was a curious man. Just yesterday, he had relied primarily on the tricks of the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique. Today, he displayed exceptionally solid fundamentals. "Who taught you swordsmanship?"

"It cost a lot of money."

Meaning he had learned from swordsmanship instructors. 'It really must have cost a fortune.'

That stood to reason. Even if Ragna had taught him himself, he could not have done better. That made Encrid ready to learn something beyond the fundamentals, which was why he had brought up Concentrate on a Single Point. Still, Ragna had his private doubts as he explained it.

'Being taught doesn't mean you'll be able to do it.' He claimed to have developed it himself, but it was actually one of the secret arts passed down in his family. Of course, he did not teach it unchanged. He could hardly give his family's secrets away to just anyone, so he taught a version he had modified and refined. Calling it a technique he had developed was not entirely untrue. 'Though I've never seen this work.'

Ragna had seen fewer than five people enter that state of concentration. Considering his experience and how long he had wandered the continent, that was an exceedingly small number. 'Five? More like three at best.'

Two of those five were like someone loosing an arrow at random and hitting a wolf in the head. They had merely picked up a coin dropped by the goddess of luck. So three was the right count for those who could truly command that concentration. It required talent. Forgetting everything around you and focusing completely was no easy feat. Nor was that talent confined to swordsmanship. Some scholars displayed such concentration while studying and mastering their fields. They could even put themselves into that state at will, through absorption and intense engagement. But could doing it in a fight possibly be easy? Ragna could not help being skeptical. Even if luck allowed Encrid a fleeting taste of it, he would never master it.

'Difficult. Very difficult.' Ragna had made Concentrate One his own after stepping into that realm just once, but Encrid would struggle. So how could his eyes look like that? "Aren't you going to explain? I know all about Righteous, Heavy, Swift, Deceptive, and Flowing Sword, so skip those. Teach me Concentrate on a Single Point." How could he be so unwavering, so upright? It felt like looking at a straight-growing tree. A great tree that stood tall and unburned even through typhoons and lightning strikes. Even though it must sound like little more than an impossible dream, the Squad Leader said he would learn it. He even nodded as though he more or less understood. And it looked genuine. Then again, the Squad Leader was always sincere. Whether training, swinging his sword, or doing anything else, he threw himself into it with everything he had. Wasn't it because that had impressed Ragna that he was teaching him now? "I think I understand."

The Squad Leader spoke. Ragna nodded, though he thought Encrid must have misunderstood. It was a nod of encouragement. He knew all too well the limits talent imposed. People said geniuses could not see those beneath their feet, but Ragna had looked down during his travels across the continent. He had descended underground, met those who lived there, talked with them, and crossed swords with them. 'Talent.'

How many people had that single word broken? The Squad Leader would be one of them. That was the inevitable course of things. Yet because he refused to give up, watching him filled Ragna with motivation. Selfish though it was, the man's refusal to quit allowed Ragna to walk his own path. So he would do his utmost to teach him. That was what Ragna decided. "Forget your surroundings, forget yourself, until nothing remains but concentration. That is Concentrate One, Concentrate on a Single Point. They say your whole life flashes before your eyes when you're on the brink of death. You would do well to take that as a guide."

"Really? I see." For some reason, the Squad Leader seemed to tune out at that. He wasn't normally like this. And he certainly wasn't someone who gave up because something seemed impossible. Ragna tried threatening him with his sword a few times afterward, hoping to force his concentration higher, but the Squad Leader still failed to enter the state. "All right. Let's go."

Even so, he headed for the battlefield looking quite cheerful. The sight sent a sudden surge of motivation through Ragna too. "I think I'll give myself a proper workout today."

Those were hardly words one expected from a man who normally swung his sword listlessly, the very picture of a lazy genius. Encrid stared at him.

* * *

What had gotten into him now? Well, there was nothing wrong with his wanting to fight seriously. Leaving Ragna to his bright-eyed enthusiasm, Encrid focused on what he needed to do. Today had begun again. Ragna's training method for Concentrate on a Single Point was wrong. No, even if it was right, the method that genius bastard had grasped in an instant was a poor fit for Encrid. Then was his own method right? He did not know whether it would work. What should he do, then?

'Try it and see.' Encrid followed the familiar route. He directed his allies' movements by telling them to get down and then raise their shields, before calling to Rem. "A spell! Who did this!"

Rem was practically foaming at the mouth at the sight of the spell.

"Follow me!"

Encrid tapped him on the shoulder from behind as he spoke. "Huh?"

"We're charging."

"What? Eat something that didn't agree with you, Squad Leader?"

Despite his words, Rem followed readily enough. It was the same route. This time, Ragna followed too, without even being called.

"A charge? If you're breaking their vanguard, count me in."

"You eat something funny too?"

Rem addressed Ragna as he joined them. Ragna ignored him and ran on. Despite the fog, neither man's movements were greatly hindered. Rem was like a typhoon. The two axes in his hands pulverized the enemy. He looked ready to cut through eighty infantrymen single-handedly. Ragna was like a heavy battering ram, ruthlessly smashing the wall of infantry. He was not fast, but his hands showed no mercy. Whether quarrels or enemy spearheads came at him, he cut and sliced through them all with a single arming sword. His skill was astonishing. 'At least special-grade.'

In the Kingdom of Naurilia, special-grade was a general classification for soldiers above high grade. Above high grade came highest grade, and beyond that, special-grade. 'No, maybe highest grade.'

Encrid still did not know precisely where his own abilities stood, so he could not gauge theirs either. In any case, this was no time to stand around watching. Following the same route, Encrid came face-to-face with Mitch Hurrier.

"Let's have a fight."

This time, Encrid spoke first. Mitch's eyes widened, then he smiled. "You lunatic. You've come to die of your own accord."

He wasn't wrong. Even if Encrid killed Mitch now, there would be no way out alive. But that was fine. He had not come here to die. He had come to give this fight everything he had. "You came for me? Unbelievable. That's a first."

Mitch's entire body conveyed his disbelief. "Why? Never had someone confess their love before? I fell for you at first sight, so here I am."

At Encrid's words, Mitch let out a short laugh, then glared. "My unit is the Gray Hounds. The Persistent Lovers. It's been a long time since someone found me before I found them."

"Right, I see. Feeling disappointed? Shall I go hide again so you can come find me?"

"Enough nonsense." Mitch Hurrier charged. Encrid steadied his breathing. He then blazed with determination to enter the state of concentration—and failed. The fight was decided quickly. His opponent surpassed him in skill, mental strength, and talent. This was not someone he could take on with faith in his fundamentals alone. "What made you think you could take me? How did you even get this far?"

The sword had shredded Encrid's lungs and guts. It hurt like hell, as though someone had stuffed burning coals into his belly. "I believed in myself. I made a mistake this time. I think I had the wrong mindset."

Reliving today did not make it easy to reproduce the same experience. "What?"

"I think I can do it next time."

Just as understanding had dawned when he first entered that state of concentration, he had gained another small insight now. So he would try again. "You'll die even if I let you go. What next time?"

"Isn't he just crazy? Don't bother with him, Platoon Commander." SHING! An enemy soldier beside him drew his sword and held it to Encrid's throat as he spoke. Without waiting, Encrid twisted his neck and cut himself on the blade. RIP. The blade must have been well sharpened. A deep gash opened in his neck with a searing pain. His violent movement sent pain flaring through his belly and neck at once. It hurt enough to fucking kill him. No, he would die soon, so this truly was the pain of dying. Enduring it, Encrid opened his mouth.

"See you again."

With those parting words, he died, blood pouring from him.

* * *

Today began again, and Encrid sought out Mitch Hurrier once more. "Good to see you, my friend."

"... Don't tell me you came looking for me."

"Yes, that's right. I came for the Platoon Commander of the Gray Hounds, the Persistent Lovers. Let's fight."

"You're a crazy bastard." They clashed again. Encrid had realized his mistake.

'I can't force it.'

If he kept thinking he had to concentrate, he would become trapped in that thought. What should he do, then? Do what he had done the first time. As though dancing to his opponent's blade, keeping time with his own. He fought and fought again. It took eighteen todays spent that way. Only then did Encrid enter the state of concentration again. And what joy it brought him. Even sprawled on the ground with one arm severed, he laughed. He was so happy he forgot the pain. "You're laughing?"

Seeing that, Mitch brought his sword down. That was the end. Repeat again. Keep going. Until it worked. Anyone watching would have called him relentless. They would have marveled at his perseverance. But for Encrid, this required no perseverance. Entering that state of concentration. Improving his ingrained swordsmanship through battle after battle, crossing blades with a worthy opponent. It was so deeply satisfying that he simply enjoyed himself. As twenty-eight todays passed, Encrid gained a feel for the state of concentration. Through forty-eight todays, he managed to invoke Concentrate on a Single Point deliberately. And through another ninety-four todays, he became able to call upon it whenever he wished. Complete concentration. It meant having total control over his sword and his body. Once he achieved that, finesse joined his strength. And so, after mastering Concentrate on a Single Point, he spoke. "Teach me."

He began taking lessons from Ragna again. When he demonstrated Concentrate on a Single Point immediately after being taught, Ragna furrowed his brow. "What is this?"

"What?"

"It looks like you've learned this somewhere before. No, being taught doesn't mean you can do it. Were you... a genius?" A genius? Even after extraordinary luck had granted him a profound experience of it, he had needed more than a hundred repetitions just to make it his own. Encrid knew he lacked talent, but he did not dwell on it. He was simply, completely happy in the present. So he gave the answer that repeating today had made a habit.

"I was lucky."

"You can do this just by being lucky?"

Ragna was incredulous. Watching him, Encrid decided it was time to escape this today. Having picked out and learned the very essence of Concentrate on a Single Point, he had played the genius. When he turned to leave Ragna behind, Ragna asked a question. "Where are you going?"

"To see the Company Commander."

Ragna let him go. He could only marvel at Encrid's having grasped Concentrate on a Single Point in a single attempt. Was the Squad Leader really a genius? It didn't seem so. He had demonstrated Concentrate on a Single Point, but it possessed the precision of a statue shaped by countless blows. He most certainly had not mastered it after seeing it once.

'How is that possible?' After pondering it, Ragna soon dropped the thought. Thinking would not give him an answer, would it? Best to leave it alone. Watching the Squad Leader simply filled him with motivation. Seeing Ragna's eyes shine again today, Encrid concluded that no matter what happened, this particular day was one on which Ragna would feel motivated.

'Let's focus on my own work.'

This was no time to worry about Ragna. Whatever he did, this battle would leave his allies all but annihilated. Preventing that required two things. One was clearing The Fog of Annihilation. The other was having his allies keep themselves safe while the fog cleared. He could not do both at once. There was only one of him. Breaking the flagpole also left another problem: even after the surprise attack, he would have to get out of the heart of the enemy position. Encrid had no intention of remaining trapped in today. That meant he had to break the enemy's carefully prepared strategy and smash it to pieces. "I'd like to see the Company Commander."

Encrid had gone to the Fourth Platoon Commander to make his request.

"... Now?" Battle was close enough to feel on their skin, leaving the troops on edge. Asking to see the Company Commander at a time like this was understandably baffling. The Platoon Commander had been resting with his long spear propped against the barracks wall. Still wearing his boots, he had been lying on a camp cot, and now he sat up. "Yes, now."

"Why?"

"I remembered something I saw on the scouting mission." The Fourth Platoon Commander studied Encrid, then nodded and stood. His knee cracked as the bones shifted. He loosened up and asked, "What was it?" "I think what Aspen's army is hiding is a spell."

"A spell?"

"Yes." The Platoon Commander started to step forward, then stopped, apparently doubtful. But remembering that Encrid was not one to spout nonsense, he set off at a brisk pace. If the man had something to say, he ought to say it. The Company Commander would judge. Soon they reached the Company Commander's barracks and were admitted.

"You asked to see me?"

The green-eyed Fairy Company Commander posed the question. The barracks was cozy inside. Encrid nodded as he watched the short torch crackling in its holder.

"Yes."

"About what?" She sounded ready to give him a piece of her mind if it was nothing important. The Fairy Company Commander's tone was cold.

"A spell."

Encrid got straight to the point. "A spell?"

"The flagpoles and flags. The person I saw in enemy territory was a shaman." The memory had grown hazy after so many grueling repetitions of today, but he had not forgotten what he had seen there. Encrid gave an appropriately altered account of it, enough to convince her. If that failed to persuade her, there was nothing for it. 'I'll just have to try again.'

That was the privilege of someone who repeated today. Fortunately, the Fairy Company Commander listened closely.

"In more detail."

"Of course." He said he had heard the enemy soldiers calling out respectfully to the shaman. The Fairy Company Commander's eyes flashed. He did not say that fog would descend. That would be too much. Spells were taught only to chosen successors, their secrets never allowed beyond their keepers. It would make no sense for him to recognize one at a glance. That was as far as he would go. The rest depended on the Company Commander's capabilities. Having delivered his message, Encrid returned to his place at the front of the battlefield. Now it was time to get past Mitch Hurrier and break the flagpole. 'This is all I can do.'

The rest was up to the commander.

"Whew."

Now it was time to surpass the self trapped in today.