Leaving the battalion commander’s tent, Enkrid felt noticeably lighter.
Though the commander’s expression wasn’t particularly pleasant, to Enkrid, it had been a unique experience nonetheless.
A knight... speaking of dreams.
There had been neither ridicule nor dismissal.
And that, to Enkrid, was something fresh.
Still, that wasn’t the point. He had spoken, and the offer was rejected. Now, it was time to return to what he had to do.
Returning to his tent, Enkrid stopped in front of Rem.
“What is it?”
“We continue.”
He meant the transfer of techniques. It wasn’t some grand endeavor—just finishing what had been started.
Rem, looking at the platoon leader, thought to himself: This guy really is insane.
Was this even normal?
Teaching someone how to feel nothing at all, truly nothing, was bizarre even for Rem.
And yet, here Enkrid was. He never grew tired, never showed frustration. Concepts like despair, torment, or misery were alien to him.
Curious despite himself, Rem asked:
“You’re not bored?”
“Hmm?”
Enkrid’s blank stare seemed to ask, What does that even mean?
“Well then, let’s do it. I didn’t have anything else to do anyway.”
At Rem’s words, Andrew’s face lit up.
Ever since Rem had stuck close to his platoon leader, Andrew felt as though he’d rediscovered peace, love, life, and hope.
“Life is so full of beauty.”
“Get a grip,” Mack said, shaking his head at Andrew’s sentimental outburst.
Meanwhile, Enri had left.
Two days ago, he had joined a unit transporting the wounded and didn’t return.
Originally a part of the Mad Platoon, such a departure should have been unthinkable.
But it was a special reward, a privilege for his contribution to their victory.
“I want to try living a different way.”
When Enri had said this, Enkrid nodded, ensuring the privilege was granted without issue.
Enkrid respected Enri’s choice.
After all, not everyone could spend their lives wielding a sword.
Still, Enri’s absence was felt.
Even if he was exempt from meals and routine duties, he had always been essential during reconnaissance missions.
In fact, it was during a reconnaissance mission, prompted by Kraiss’s insistence, that they scouted the enemy’s abandoned camp.
Without Enri, even simple navigation had become a challenge.
While Enkrid wasn’t entirely clueless about finding his way, he was nowhere near Enri’s skill.
And entrusting navigation to anyone else? Out of the question.
Compared to the rest of the platoon, Enkrid’s pathfinding skills were exceptional.
“While I can’t find paths, I’m great at finding monsters. How about we clear out a nest while we’re at it?”
Rem, itching for real combat after sharing his Heart of Might technique, suggested with a grin.
“Just keep going. We’ll find something eventually.”
That was Ragna, utterly hopeless when it came to navigation.
“We follow the divine call wherever it leads us,” Audin chimed in, his words as risky as Ragna’s.
A divine call, to Enkrid, was just another excuse to do as one pleased.
Jaxon, as usual, said nothing, but it was clear he had no intention of leading them anywhere.
If left to his own devices, Jaxon would probably disappear before offering any guidance.
Mack stayed, though.
But even Mack wasn’t much of an improvement.
So the Mad Platoon scouted the enemy’s camp.
Despite the fact that allied reconnaissance units had already searched the area, Kraiss, with his uncanny talent, managed to fill his pockets.
“Impressive.”
“Right?”
“Ooh, gems.”
Kraiss muttered to himself as he uncovered coin pouches, jewel-encrusted daggers, and other valuables.
While none of it was exceptionally rare, much of it could easily be converted to krona.
“Soldiers often hide valuables before heading to battle, don’t they?”
Kraiss’s words rang true. Some soldiers would bury treasures, asking comrades to deliver them to their families should they fall in battle.
Of course, if both the soldier and their comrade perished, such plans became meaningless.
Who heads to war expecting total annihilation?
This time was no exception. And Kraiss, with his knack for uncovering hidden treasures, excelled at it.
Even in areas previously searched by allied scouts, Kraiss managed to find items buried beneath beds or near tree roots.
“How do you find all this?”
Enkrid asked, genuine curiosity shining through. He had little else to do, standing guard with no apparent threats nearby.
“Simple. I sniff out krona. Look at his nose—it’s shaped like a coin, isn’t it?”
Rem teased from the side, clearly just as bored.
How could anyone’s nose—especially that of a man often considered handsome—resemble a coin?
Kraiss ignored the remark, knowing it wasn’t worth responding to.
“Think about it,” Kraiss said, tapping his temple. His leather bag, already bulging, swung lightly behind him.
“Think?”
Enkrid tilted his head.
“If I were to hide something, where would I put it? If the camp were destroyed and I somehow survived, where would I go to retrieve it? Humans cling to hope, after all. Where’s the most obvious place?”
“Somewhere easy to find.”
“Exactly. Look at this tree. It’s unique, isn’t it? Close to the camp but not too far away. Perfect for a quick stop during a retreat.”
It made sense.
“And most importantly,” Kraiss added, his eyes gleaming with excitement, “the rarer the item, the better it’s hidden.”
This guy... his mind worked like a well-oiled machine.
Sure, it seemed obvious in hindsight. But the fact that Kraiss could predict and prepare for this beforehand was impressive.
“Still planning to open a salon?”
“Why do you think I’m working so hard? My dream is to run a salon, sharing pointless jokes all night while raking in krona.”
It was a humble dream, but one Kraiss took seriously.
And who was Enkrid to laugh at someone else’s dream?
Especially when his own aspirations as a knight were far more absurd.
Dreams of opening a salon seemed more grounded than becoming a knight in a world like this.
No, he wouldn’t laugh. Not at this.
Enkrid smiled faintly, gripping the daggers Kraiss handed him.
“They’re yours. Just some throwing knives—nothing special.”
As soon as the task was done, Rem erupted in annoyance.
“What, am I here to babysit treasure hunters?”
“Shall we spar when we return?” Enkrid offered, already accustomed to calming him down.
And so, their days continued.
After meeting with the commander, Enkrid returned to training.
Each day, the same drills, yet each one slightly different.
Because no day is ever the same.
Enkrid didn’t realize it yet, but he was no longer the talentless knight he once was.
Experience, techniques like Heart of Might, Blade Sense, and Isolation, and countless hours of grueling practice had reshaped him.
As he swung his sword, his eyes blurred, his pupils dilating.
Yet his blade grew sharper, his steps more precise.
Frokk, Michi Hurrier, battlefield.
As Enkrid swung his sword, revisiting techniques and ideas, everything began to blur.
Heart, beast, brute strength, battle, war, reflection, recollection—
These thoughts faded, pushed aside, until only the sword and himself remained in the world.
Vague impressions and fleeting distractions lingered, but they too dissolved.
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Thus, he slashed and thrust his sword with force, over and over. His recovered right wrist now moved sturdier than before.
Was this the effect of divine blessings? Or perhaps the elixir provided by the fae company commander?
That wasn’t what mattered.
The distractions that surfaced blurred and eventually vanished entirely. Soon, everything else disappeared.
Enkrid felt as if he were observing his body from outside of himself—a surreal, impossible sensation of detachment.
In this state, he watched his sword.
He slashed, thrust, cleaved, and pulled back.
Zrrrrrk.
His feet pushed against the gravel, scattering small stones.
As his steps shifted, the sword’s direction changed, its position adjusted.
In Enkrid’s vision, only the trajectory of his sword remained.
Points connected by lines—
The trembling blade, the heavy strike, the piercing thrust like a flash of light, swinging in precise arcs to trap an opponent, then spinning in a half-turn as his arm whipped like a lash.
Whoooosh!
The sound of the sword slicing through the air echoed.
For anyone who had known Enkrid before, especially at the beginning of his journey, this scene would have been astonishing.
Despite endless hours of training, he had once seemed like a broken scarecrow—stuck in place, incapable of progress, with only a desperate determination to inch forward.
That scarecrow now stood firmly on its own feet.
“You’ve improved remarkably.”
Standing outside the tent, Rem couldn’t help but marvel. When had this man learned to lose himself so completely in the art of the sword?
When had he become capable of standing on his own like this?
The broken scarecrow was no more.
Squatting with his chin resting on his hand, Rem felt an inexplicable surge of pride.
Truly, when had he grown so much?
Beside him, Ragna also stepped outside the tent, observing the sound of air being torn apart by the sword.
Ragna recognized that his platoon leader’s swordsmanship had ripened to perfection.
Though he had already experienced it during their spars, seeing Enkrid immerse himself in this way evoked a strange feeling.
It was as if a fire had been lit in Ragna’s chest.
Motivated, Ragna silently drew his own sword.
Shling.
And then, he began practicing his swings nearby.
Audin joined as well.
“He’s built his body well.”
What sort of talent does it take to move one’s body so freely?
Audin knew it required meticulous training—feeling out each muscle, pushing through pain, and surpassing limits.
That was the essence of the Isolation Technique.
And now, standing before him was someone who had benefited most from that method.
Even Enkrid’s joints were smoother. No longer would his wrist be injured from previous shocks.
Recently, he had focused on joint training.
“Lord, your servant rejoices in gratitude.”
To feel pure joy from watching another was a rare thing—and for that reason, all the more delightful.
Jaxon observed with a peculiar expression.
It was worth it.
Teaching him how to sense, choosing to remain here—it had all been worth it.
Although there had been moments when he thought staying here was a waste of time,
Now, seeing the platoon leader, those thoughts were completely gone.
Esther, propping her chin on her front paw, watched Enkrid from a distance.
Magic and spells were a gateway to new worlds.
The joy and ecstasy she derived from exploring these realms were incomparable to anything else.
And so, she had walked the path of incantations, building her world atop the exhilaration of discovery and the satisfaction of mastery.
These elements defined her. They drove her pursuit of magic and her construction of spellcraft.
So why was this man swinging his sword in the air?
Watching Enkrid, she was reminded of herself, lost in the world of spells.
Though she had only basic knowledge of swords, she could feel the man’s extraordinary skill.
And she wondered:
What drives you to move like this?
It was pure curiosity—a researcher’s, an explorer’s fascination.
For Esther, this was a surprising change.
Having spent her life ignoring everything but magic, she had cursed her body into its current state.
Yet now, she found herself curious about a person.
This newfound feeling both startled and delighted her.
Novelty was her lifeblood.
And this emotion was something entirely new.
Soon, Enkrid’s sword came to a halt.
Huff.
He stopped, his entire body drenched in sweat.
Esther moved, carrying a cloth in her mouth as she leaped toward him.
When she handed it to him, Enkrid, still staring blankly into the air, accepted it and said:
“Thank you, Esther.”
Nyaaah.
Think nothing of it.
Enkrid wiped his sweat with the cloth and suddenly noticed how warm the weather was.
The tranquility—was it the weather’s influence?
Or was it simply the result of focusing entirely on his sword?
It felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest.
Relieved, he turned and called out:
“Rem.”
He had glimpsed the edges of Rem’s Heart of Might technique.
Now that he had seen it, he had to seize it.
And once grasped, he could internalize it.
Whether it would work or not, he would find out now.
“Let’s do it again.”
Though it seemed like any other day,
No two days were ever the same.
And that was the most natural truth of all.