Chapter 82 - You Seem a Little Different

He had seen a great deal, especially when it came to speed. The swordsman behind that imbecile Polid had been the catalyst, but there were things he had watched long before that. Moments he had faced in every sparring match. Axe strokes that curved like a whip.

The sword of the man who had accompanied that imbecile Polid. Rem's axe strokes. Everything he had experienced and learned on the battlefield. Everything he had practiced and pondered alone. Even the changes the Isolation Technique had wrought in his body. All of it coalesced in his mind.

Some indescribable sensation settled within him, and Encrid entered the state of Concentrate on a Single Point. A world where only he and his sword remained.

Even the feel of the hilt in his hand grew distant. All he could see were lines joining points. What he needed was the strength to draw those lines.

The instant he met Rem's eyes, he unleashed it. His lowered sword tip traced the shortest line between two points.

The sword tip pierced a throat.

He saw a vision, so vivid he could have mistaken it for reality. In it, Encrid's sword pierced Rem's throat. Rem collapsed with a hole in his neck. Blood flowed, soaking the ground. He lay wide-eyed, bloody foam on his lips. There was no resentment in those eyes. Only pure astonishment.

"Fuck, that one was really fast."

Rem was so startled that he began with a curse. Those words shattered Encrid's vision. The imagined scene seemed to crumble into shards of glass and cascade away.

Beyond the broken glass stood Rem, his eyes wide with surprise. But only for a moment. Soon they curved into a smile, like a child's upon discovering an entertaining new toy.

"What did you do?"

As Rem asked, Encrid saw blood on his neck where the blade had grazed him.

"Nearly sent me to my grave."

At that, Encrid spoke.

"Sorry. I nearly killed you."

"... Never thought I'd hear myself say this, but our Squad Leader's grown so fucking much. Really."

"Wasn't I older than you to begin with?"

Encrid was taller, too.

"Honestly. You're a funny man."

With that, Rem abruptly thrust his axe. Encrid instinctively turned his head to evade it, but the axe blade began following his cheek.

The spar continued. From then on, Rem's axe strokes all but had Encrid hovering between life and death.

"So you've figured out what it means to swing fast? Good. Let's keep going."

What was this? Was it because of the scratch on his neck? It felt as though there was more than a little resentment behind this. Still, Encrid did not back down.

"Hesitating because you're afraid you'll kill me again? Don't worry. I'll kill you first."

Rem's eyes gleamed fiercely. His arm ceased to be a whip and became a streak of light. The axe blade Encrid had barely managed to dodge, block, and deflect was suddenly at his neck, without so much as scratching his skin.

The axe blade tapped his neck and withdrew. With no edge behind the contact, it left no wound. Only the cold feel of the blade remained.

"If you can't completely control the weapon in your hand, you're only halfway there."

Those were Rem's parting words as he ended the spar. Lying flat on the cold ground, Encrid sorted through what he had gained from it.

What was speed? For now, his answer was trajectory. The path of movement. A motion that drew a line between two points in a single burst.

What did that require? Drawing the line in his mind. And what else did he need to reproduce that line exactly? His body. His body had to keep up. That meant physical conditioning.

Why did the axe appear to bend like a whip?

'Strength, conditioned muscles, physical ability.'

Weren't those precisely what Audin had been telling him to build? The same things he had gained through the Isolation Technique.

Strength was the foundation. The foundation for thrusting or swinging the sword in his hand faster than ever before. To that, he added the concept of a path of movement. He drew a line between two points in his mind, then brought it into being in an instant.

'This is speed.'

The Oniak Sword Technique. This was part of its swift-sword forms. Still lying on the ground, Encrid laughed.

"Heh."

Though he had not repeated today. Though he had not died again and again. Though he had not met the ferryman of the black river.

'A sword for tomorrow.'

He could feel his own growth. Above all, he was proud because this was not something someone had taught him. He had realized it himself. All his life, he had heard that he had no talent. When had he ever imagined experiencing something like this?

'I can do more.'

His heart pounded because he could see a way forward. Then he dug into Rem's parting words. Review and reflection. It was time to turn inward.

"Unless you'd like to freeze to death, I suggest you come inside."

The voice addressing Encrid on the ground belonged to Jaxon. He seemed to be returning from somewhere outside. He approached wearing his usual impassive expression, the warming-hide cloak around his shoulders fluttering in the wind.

Encrid nodded where he lay and got up. He sheathed his drawn sword and loosened his stiff neck from side to side.

As he headed into their quarters, gooseflesh suddenly rose all over his body, his hair standing on end. Every muscle pulled taut. It was an instinctive response. Reflexively, he spun around and drew his sword again.

SHING!

The blade rang against the scabbard. Encrid realized he had been holding his breath without knowing it. Only then did he exhale and look at the other man.

The killing intent had come from three paces behind him. Jaxon stood there as unremarkably as ever. The only difference was that his right arm now hung at his side.

"Not bad," Jaxon said, looking at him.

Encrid had no idea what he meant by that. He only knew Jaxon had done something. Could the mere act of releasing killing intent put such a terrifying grip on a person?

"Carmen's Stiletto is an excellent dagger."

Jaxon spoke again. Only then did Encrid realize he meant to keep his word.

["What is the purpose of continually training your five senses? How can you dodge a dagger coming from behind without even seeing it?"]

That was what Jaxon had said. What he had just demonstrated must be his payment for the Stiletto.

"When you steel your determination to kill someone, you often project a certain presence without realizing it. We also call that killing intent."

Presence, killing intent, fighting spirit, determination. They were all similar concepts.

Encrid thought of the trading company's guard named Mattis. He had heightened his presence as he announced his name. That alone had drawn everyone's attention. Jaxon had used it to judge him a city-level fighter.

"This is how you sense killing intent. What I just showed you was strong enough to terrify a child passing by, so naturally you felt it. Keep feeling for it. Feel it with everything you have, including your five senses. That is the next stage of the 'sense for the blade': the 'Sixth Sense.'"

THUMP.

His heart pounded again, just as it had when he grasped the concept of speed.

"Understood."

His answer was calm, but his dauntless heart kept racing. This, too, was so enjoyable he thought he might go mad.

Perhaps this was the greatest change repeating today had brought to Encrid: every day had become an absolute delight.

The joy of growth, something he had never known before, became both carrot and stick, urging him forward. Telling him he could do more. That he did not have to stop here.

'For what purpose?'

His goal was clear, too. A knight. His dream remained a brilliant star, shining within his chest.

"Let's go inside."

With that, Jaxon entered their quarters first. When Encrid followed, Audin asked, "Have you done today's training?"

"Not yet."

That was another thing he needed to do. Before starting, the prospect was agonizing, since it meant plunging his whole body into a sea of pain. Yet it was not agonizing at all. The fruit that would drop into his mouth once he crossed that sea of suffering was simply too sweet. The pain of wringing his body dry had turned to pleasure.

"Let us begin."

He began practicing the Isolation Technique with Audin. After training, he washed his exhausted body and returned to lie down, only to find Esther already on his bed. She had gathered her forepaws before her chest and rested her head neatly on top of them.

Encrid reached out to stroke her head.

HISS!

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the top of her head, Esther scratched the back of his hand and drew away. Had she swung her claws in earnest, she could have severed his wrist rather than scratched his hand. It was only right, then, to view this as a cute little tantrum. Except...

"What is it this time?"

He had no idea why. Watching from beside him, Krais chuckled.

"Who knows? Actually, she's been like that since she heard the song about the irresistible Squad Leader."

Apparently, those men with far too much time on their hands had been singing "The Irresistible Squad Leader" with gusto after all.

"Woo-hoo, he'll bed every woman in the city!"

"A hunter after every woman passing by!"

"Irresistible, irresistible, the irresistible Squad Leader!"

Krais began the first verse, and Rem joined in. The lyrics and melody were both a mess. It was hardly even a song.

HISS!

For some reason, Esther seemed to hate that song very, very, very much. The instant she heard it, she let out a vicious cry.

'Is it because of Krais?'

Krais was a fucking awful singer. Rem, surprisingly, belted the notes out cleanly in a manly voice and was fairly pleasant to listen to.

"What about the Company Commander? Another woman? You irresistible Squad Leader."

Ragna asked from beside him. He looked genuinely curious, but that bastard was just as committed to teasing him.

"Shut up."

Rather than clear up every misunderstanding, it was better to wait quietly for the rumors to die down. Saying anything more would only fan the flames.

"So did you do it or not?"

Still, he had to answer that. Leona's honor was at stake, too.

"I didn't."

"... You, uh, serious?"

"I've no reason to lie about something like this."

What would it matter if they had slept together? That was the truth of it. There was no need to cover it up with a lie. Knowing Encrid's character, Rem knew he was telling the truth.

"You a eunuch? When did it get chopped off? Is that why?"

This fucking bastard.

"It is all right, irresistible brother. God loves everyone. Even those who have had it cut off."

Audin added his contribution. But why was he attaching "irresistible" to "brother"?

"Pfft."

Krais laughed. Jaxon looked away, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth down. Ragna said, "Then how did you do it with the Company Commander?" It was one of the rare occasions he managed to anger Encrid.

"Crazy bastards."

Not a single squad member was normal. Encrid regretted being the only sane person in the room. But what good would getting angry do? These bastards would not even blink.

He lay down on his bed, consoling himself that this was probably better than having them fight among themselves.

After they had spent a good while teasing him in unison, Rem suddenly said to the reclining Encrid, "You seem a little different."

"I was thinking the same thing," Ragna added. The others merely listened.

Different? Encrid considered Rem's words. Had he changed? In what way?

"You keep smiling this odd little smile lately. Though I don't think that's all."

Had he not smiled much before? Encrid found himself recalling his past self. What had he been like? He could not remember clearly, but one thing was certain: he had struggled desperately then, just as he did now.

The difference was that back then, he had been fighting his way through darkness so complete he could not see an inch ahead. Now, he could make out the path before him, however dimly. Seeing that path gave him a joy the talented could never imagine.

"I always knew you were mad about swords, but lately it's been a bit much. There's the smiling, too, and you've gotten a lot better. Anyway, you've changed."

It was a claim with little solid reasoning behind it, but the other squad members agreed.

"You do seem a little crazier than before."

Krais supplied the finishing touch. Encrid could not agree in the slightest. Where would they find someone as easygoing and ordinary as him? He simply put a little more time into training and practice, and his dream was a little bigger than other people's.

"Not saying that's a bad thing," Rem added.

Encrid ignored him. It was night. Time to sleep, not chatter.

Later, Jaxon and Krais left the quarters for duty, and Encrid soon fell asleep. He felt it every day: however accustomed he grew to pushing his body to its limits, exhaustion always swept over him. Yet by morning, he felt fairly light on his feet.

Had his basic fitness improved? He did not know. It seemed more pronounced lately.

'When did that start?'

He could not remember exactly, but it had been recent. Not long after he returned to the battlefield.

* * *

Esther found him infuriating.

'Every time he goes out, something happens with a woman.'

Things happened even when he stayed at the base. She was only with him because she had business here, but how could he turn his attention to another woman with her right there?

Once, she had been synonymous with allure and enchantment without casting a single spell. Men had lined up to offer her their souls simply because she walked past.

'That Fairy is bad enough.'

As her thoughts continued, she recoiled in shock. She had remembered that she was now a panther. What man would fall for her looking like this? More importantly...

'Why do I care?'

These felt like utterly pointless, distracting thoughts. Her goal was clear: neutralize the damned thing afflicting her body. That was what Esther was working toward. She had to put such stray thoughts aside.

She stepped off her allotted warming hide and padded lightly across the middle of the barracks.

"Going over again?"

It was the barbarian beside that sleeping fellow Encrid.

"Like a sulking little kid."

The barbarian uttered those irreverent words, but Esther ignored him. She knew exactly what she needed to do. There was no room for personal feelings.

The panther sprang up and slipped silently into Encrid's arms. Once there, she gave his chest a needless little poke with a claw.

"That hurts. Let's sleep, Esther."

Encrid pulled her close.

'Shameless man.'

Esther glanced at his face. Then, pressed against his bare skin, she drew out some of the fatigue lingering in his body and dispersed it into the air.

It was no easy feat. In truth, it did not help a tremendous amount, but for someone who drove his body like a madman every day, it would make a meaningful difference.

And there was one more thing. She had tampered with his leather armor, too. It would work only once, but if someone tried to harm him with magic, it would block the attack. That had delayed her recovery of her own body a little, but...

'I need this bastard in one piece.'

So this was a matter of necessity. She was taking the long view.

Even as she thought that, Esther surrendered to the warmth and comfort of his arms. Drifting toward sleep, she indulged in another idle thought.

'I'll believe you.'

His claim that he had not dared do anything with another woman when she was right here. Since she felt those words were true, she was actually in a rather good mood.