Chapter 56 - A Wall Is a Wall

“Think of it as stretching your muscles, brother.”

The core of Audin’s barehanded training method was isolating and stretching each individual muscle. “Nngh.”

Encrid couldn’t help groaning. The muscles behind his thighs felt stretched to the breaking point, yet Audin had practically climbed onto his folded back to add more weight.

Seated with his hands reaching toward his toes, Encrid spoke.

“Going to die.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I’m going to die.” His voice was no louder than a mosquito’s whine. His muscles truly felt ready to tear. A few more breaths like this and they really would!

Only when he was hovering at his limit did Audin take his hands off his back.

“These are the basics.” Audin repeated the word “basics” time and again. Encrid folded one leg inward to press into the muscles around his pelvis. He gripped a post or something similar with one hand, bent halfway at the waist, and twisted his body.

Twisting, stretching, wringing himself out.

Yes, wringing. No other word fit so well. By the time he had wrung out his body like wet laundry, he was drenched in sweat. Wasn’t this actually a method of torture? If these were the basics, did the advanced course involve taking people apart?

All sorts of thoughts crossed his mind, but ultimately, the exercises Audin taught him were extraordinarily effective. They were agonizing to do, yet afterward his body felt much lighter.

And that wasn’t all. Heat circulated through him. His heart pounded, spreading warmth throughout his body and making the cold much more bearable. “Eat well, rest well, and move well. That is how you withstand the cold, Brother Squad Leader.”

Audin’s eyes crinkled as he spoke.

Encrid nodded. Physical training was a familiar part of his daily routine. And bodily suffering made his mind work all the faster. His racing mind followed that train of thought to the assassin who had come to kill him in this repeating today.

'That skill.'

He hadn’t even seen how the man threw the blade. Encrid was fairly confident in his own knife-throwing, but...

'There’s no comparison.' The man’s skill was exceptional. Still, all he needed to do was prepare for it.

The first pattern was to approach and stab. If that failed, he threw a blade.

'Rather thin and low, as walls go.'

The ferryman of the black river had said walls would keep appearing before Encrid, but...

'If this is all it is.'

It was easy. That was what he thought. That was why he was taking things so leisurely. “Here, look. This is hard? This?”

Suddenly inspired, Rem sprang out of bed and copied Encrid’s movements. Every motion was smooth and unimpeded. One look at the way his body stretched told Encrid how unusually flexible he was.

“Work on that flexibility, eh?”

There was something oddly irritating about this bastard. No, he’d always been irritating.

“You’re saying this is hard? This?” Rem kept sneering, but Encrid blithely ignored him. Ragna, who had been watching them through half-closed eyes, began to move.

He, too, possessed an exceptional talent for using his body. Naturally, advancing beyond a certain level of swordsmanship required knowing how to control it properly.

Ragna therefore reproduced the movements perfectly as well. He specifically chose the one Encrid had struggled with—spreading his legs and bending forward at the waist. He was the irritating sort, too. “Have you taken up contorting yourselves as a hobby?”

Jaxon spoke as he entered, returning from a night away. To him, the place looked like a den of lunatics.

Encrid was catching his breath, drenched in sweat. In front of him, the mad barbarian was grinning with his waist folded and his hands gripping his toes. Beside him, the layabout sat in a split.

Had they all gone mad together? “We were learning a training method to withstand the cold, brother.”

Audin explained the situation. Apparently uninterested, Jaxon skirted around them toward his own spot.

It was nearly time for Encrid’s duty shift. He rose and asked a question out of pure curiosity. The dagger the assassin had thrown was a shape he had never seen before.

“Have you ever used a dagger shaped like this? For throwing.” “What’s that supposed to be?”

“No.”

“I have not, brother.”

He had just described the handleless throwing blade. Rem, Ragna, and Audin answered, while Big-eyes, who naturally knew nothing about it, kept quiet. Jaxon’s brow furrowed, then smoothed.

“Where did you see that?” “I didn’t actually see it.”

He was about to go see it now.

“Was there perhaps a round notch near the grip?”

Jaxon asked without even sitting down. He was holding the coat he had taken off, about to hang it to one side.

“Yes.”

There was no need to search his memory. He had only just been struck by that blade in his repeated today. There had been a round notch at the end. “Why’re you asking?”

Rem climbed back into bed as he spoke.

“Just heard about it somewhere.”

As Encrid answered and turned, the blue-eyed black panther emerged from his bed. The panther had burrowed into his arms to sleep last night and was only now waking up.

She really did love beds and sleep. She shivered as soon as she got up, apparently cold, then stretched her body out front and back. Encrid stroked her back from her head to the tip of her tail. Jaxon’s voice reached him.

“Avoid it if you possibly can. It’s called a whistling blade.”

“A whistling blade?”

He had never heard the name before. “It’s nicknamed for the sound it makes when thrown. A favorite weapon for assassinations. Difficult to handle, but if you meet someone who uses it properly... well, run.”

As always, Jaxon’s tone was cold, but helpful. The problem was what he had said.

Run?

From someone who could merely throw a dagger well? PURR.

The panther let out a contented rumble, apparently enjoying the petting. Seeing that, Big-eyes tried to stroke her too, only for her to bare her fangs viciously at once.

“Oh, all right. All right.”

She looked ready to bite him if he came any closer. At first, Encrid had worried that the panther might hurt his squad members, but he soon put that concern aside. No matter what she did, she couldn’t possibly do anything to Rem or the others.

Only Big-eyes needed to be careful, and the panther was clearly very clever. They had spent several days together without any trouble, either.

Encrid gently stroked her head.

“Don’t hate him too much. I’m off on duty.” Encrid rose.

“Keep doing the barehanded training exercises. They will help you, brother.”

Audin hadn’t specified what they would help with, but it was easy to work out. What was Encrid always utterly absorbed in?

The sword.

He meant they would help his swordsmanship. “He’s not wrong.”

Rem nodded. Ragna and Jaxon nodded as well.

They all responded readily when it concerned Encrid. It really was strange. These were people who took no interest in most things. Encrid stepped out of the barracks for duty. He had thought he was simply repeating the same events, that this would be relatively easy. But Jaxon had complicated things a little.

His mind was in turmoil.

'Avoid him? Run away?'

Even with his current skill? Even if he fought him head-on?

He should have asked that. No, he could find out by trying it now. The price would be his life and this today, but he would gain something to match. He would have no regrets.

Despite facing death countless times, Encrid tried never to waste a single today. Even when necessity demanded that he sacrifice one, he tried to gain at least one more thing before moving on. Those repeated todays had given him an instinct.

And that instinct whispered that the strange-looking bastard of a mixed-blood Fairy assassin would be no pushover. “Well, if it isn’t our high-grade Spellbreaker!”

Jack and Bo were the same as ever. They praised Encrid and lightened the mood.

He might have missed it if he hadn’t known. Now that he did, he could see their intentions: inflate his ego with excessive praise, make him comfortable, and lure him into dropping his guard.

'Looking at it this way, they’re very thorough.' All this when the target was just an ordinary soldier?

Was the assassin a perfectionist?

He reached the market while picturing the mixed-blood Fairy’s face and trying to deduce his personality.

“Damn, there are a lot of people here.”

Jack sidled up beside him, chatting away. Bo closed in on the opposite side.

“There are.” I answered and watched the figure wrapped in rags approach from ahead. Then I suddenly flung my arms out to either side.

THUD!

Once again, only Jack was hit. Bo dodged. Encrid boldly twisted sideways. His body was stiff from the cold, but Audin’s exercises had helped. He was less stiff than he had been on the first “today.”

Without even time to draw his sword, he grabbed Bo by the collar. Bo reflexively threw a punch.

With the boldness granted by the heart of the beast, Encrid watched the fist’s path to the last moment, anticipated its course, and tilted his head out of the way. The fist clipped his earlobe. After that, it was Encrid’s turn. He tightened his grip on the collar and twisted it, choking Bo.

“Ghk!”

The man let out a strangled groan.

“Hup.”

Drawing a short breath, Encrid swung Bo to the side, intending to use him as a shield. Light though Bo was, the weight of an armed grown man bore down on Encrid’s arm. He lifted him and twisted at the waist, swinging him with centrifugal force.

Halfway through the turn, as he pulled Bo toward him, Encrid saw the mixed-blood Fairy cast his rags behind him.

Their eyes met. The Fairy seemed to be sneering at him.

Why, in this situation? Encrid had just acquired a human shield. The assassin should have been rattled. His target had anticipated his setup and reacted to it.

Yet the mixed-blood Fairy remained composed. He merely sneered and flicked his hand.

The instant the assassin’s dangling hand reached inside his clothes, it became a shaft of light. A bolt of lightning. The dagger flew literally too fast for the eye to follow. A streak of light that matched the speed of the assassin’s hand touching his chest and snapping forward.

Before Encrid could finish swinging Bo in front of him, the dagger flew in and lodged near his heart.

FWEEET!

Only afterward did the whistle pierce his ears. A dull thud and the pain that followed told him what the assassin had done, and what had happened to him.

The man had thrown a dagger. It had lodged in his heart.

“Well, damn.”

His instinct had been right. This opponent was no pushover. That one throw alone proved he was no ordinary man.

Then what if Encrid stopped him from throwing a dagger? Despite the dagger lodged in his body, all the people around them had noticed was Encrid scuffling with two soldiers.

“Let go!”

Still caught by the collar, Bo shouted and kicked Encrid in the stomach. The strength drained from Encrid’s hand. The blow to his stomach made him release his grip.

A dagger had pierced his heart. It would have been stranger if he were fine. Blood welled up from his mouth. He sank to one knee, fighting to keep from collapsing. The mixed-blood Fairy had come close before he knew it.

“You saw it coming, didn’t you? Was their acting that bad?”

Screams rose around them, but the Fairy paid them no mind. It seemed that all that mattered was here and now, you and me. Just the two of them. “... Why?”

Encrid asked, conserving his last breaths. Even amid the surrounding screams and commotion, the assassin heard him clearly.

“Why am I asking? Because I’m curious. You reacted as though you knew.”

Encrid gave a faint nod, steadied his breathing, and gathered his remaining strength to speak.

“Their acting was terrible. Even a passing dog would laugh.” The Fairy nodded and flicked his hands to either side.

THUD. THUD.

Two daggers flew from those close-range gestures. Encrid saw the ends of blades lodged in Jack’s and Bo’s foreheads.

Two notches. Whistling blades. Whistle daggers. “Uh, I...”

“Why, why?”

Neither could say more. Both fell backward with a thud.

The mixed-blood Fairy stopped there. Encrid knew Rotten was behind him. But Rotten didn’t attack in a situation like this. He would be hiding somewhere.

The mixed-blood Fairy hadn’t killed Rotten as well. Then again, who knew? He might hunt him down once this was over.

In any case, that had nothing to do with Encrid. “The Persistent Lovers never let their prey escape.”

Encrid nodded at the assassin’s words.

“So I see.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“Should I be?”

“Well, most people are.”

Sorry, but this was already the third time. Instead of looking surprised, Encrid gripped the dagger in his chest and pulled it out.

SHLUK.

Agony surged through him as the dagger came free of his heart. Blood poured from the hole in his chest.

As Encrid’s eyes rapidly clouded, the assassin spoke.

“You’re an interesting one.”

Oh. Was he?

'I’ll make this even more interesting for you.'

Encrid thought as he closed his eyes. As darkness fell, the ferryman appeared.

“Heh heh heh.”

He mocked Encrid without saying anything else. He seemed thoroughly entertained. Encrid could see neither eyes, nose, nor mouth, and could barely make out his movements, yet the feeling the ferryman conveyed was unmistakable.

The mockery was brief. After the darkness, another morning dawned.

* * *

“Good morning.”

Encrid sprang up and caught Audin for a brief explanation and lesson in the exercises. Then, the moment Jaxon returned, he grabbed his sleeve and led him outside.

The instant his sleeve was caught, Jaxon started to shove the other man away, only to stop upon recognizing his squad leader. “Huh? Where’re you off to?”

Rem called from behind them.

“I have something to ask.” Jaxon of Equivalent Exchange knew a surprising amount. Big-eyes was well versed in common information, but the things that really mattered had to come from Jaxon.

He had earned the nickname Jaxon of Equivalent Exchange because he also worked as an information broker like this. He would give people what they wanted, but they had to give him what he wanted in return. “You know about whistle daggers, right?”

Jaxon frowned.

“Where did you hear about those?”

Watching his reaction, Encrid concluded that whistle daggers were no ordinary weapons.

“Tell me about them. About whistle daggers.”

“... Is this a transaction?”

Right now, this was not his squad member, but Jaxon of Equivalent Exchange.

“Yes.” The price didn’t matter. This conversation would vanish when he repeated today. Even if he reached tomorrow, he could simply pay what he owed.

Still, he had realized that this was not a wall he could overcome on merely his fourth today. He had a feeling this conversation would be forgotten. A wall was a wall. None could be crossed easily.

He felt as though he could hear the ferryman’s mockery turn into words.