Chapter 117 - Left Hand

He had never considered running away in the first place.

Even if running was the only answer.

'I have nowhere to go anyway.'

More than anything, he could see the path forward.

How could he turn away and leave that path behind?

The signpost before Encrid asked him.

Could he cross the wall even without his right hand?

What was it they said? If you had no teeth, you chewed with your gums.

The village chief of some slash-and-burn settlement had said that once.

He had liked those words quite a lot.

If he had no sword, he would take up a spear.

If he had no weapon, he would fight with his fists.

If he had no arms, he would bite.

If he had no legs, he would crawl on his knees.

'So.'

If he had no right hand, what was left?

Darkness, abyss, fear, pain.

The things that seized Encrid every time death came for him.

Even in that darkness, Encrid had always seen light.

"Give up."

It felt as though someone were saying that.

It felt as though he were driving himself into the worst possible situation.

Now that he had said it with his own mouth, it felt even more that way, but in truth, it did not bother him at all.

Why was that? He did not know. Encrid also knew the difference between himself and other people.

How could he not?

He had watched the mercenary comrades he had shared meals and blades with retire one by one.

And beyond that.

"I can't do this. There are this many monster bastards out there, and I'm supposed to swing a sword? What kind of bullshit is that?"

He had also seen people collapse from envying the talents of others.

Encrid had envied that sort of talent too.

But nothing changed by envying alone.

So he could not let any day pass by idly, and whether it rained or snowed, he had no choice but to swing his sword even one more time.

Because that was the only method Encrid knew.

So that was what he did.

Had it been hard?

It was not easy, but that did not mean he had been swimming through a sea of agony every single day.

It was simply something he had to do.

So he had simply done it.

Death was the same. He knew he only had to endure, so he endured. That was all.

'For now.'

He felt he had to try this and that. Had he not learned from the previous repeated todays?

'There isn't only one path.'

Three paths.

If he could use everything blocking his way to repeat "today," then that was what he would do.

He knew that flailing desperately was not the only answer like before.

And so.

"Good morning."

He could begin the morning by greeting it with a smile.

Esther stared blankly at Encrid with tired eyes.

What was with this human, greeting the morning this brightly?

Esther's gaze seemed to say that.

"Sleep some more."

Encrid pushed Esther into the blanket he had been lying under.

Normally Esther would at least have wriggled, but she quietly curled up inside.

After putting Esther inside the blanket, Encrid went outside.

"Whew."

He let out one breath and began loosening up his body with the isolation technique.

As always, once he loosened up his body, his mind spun briskly.

"A sound mind dwells in a strong body, Brother."

When Audin had said that, Encrid had thought it was nonsense.

Now he could roughly understand it.

In fact, that was how it had turned out.

The more he trained his body, the clearer his mind became.

His mind, made as clear as the sweat he had shed, spun briskly.

The wrist in the splint was not broken. It had broken from overexertion right before he died, but it had returned to its original state.

The things he had trained through practice.

Muscle training, every technique he had taught his body, remained even when he repeated today, but injuries did not recover.

Injuries remained in his body, but recovery only happened once he passed beyond today.

So crossing the wall with his right wrist restored to normal was impossible.

'Relax the shoulder.'

Keep his vision wide, and at times deep.

Continue his thoughts and search for the best path.

Then head down the path he had found.

What should the first step be?

What else could it be?

Do what he had been doing, and finish what remained.

The thing he simply did every day, the thing he repeated.

The thing he had been doing before he actually died.

Training and practice. If there was anything different, it was that he would do it with his left hand instead of his injured right.

"If you're going to watch, tie this first."

When he suddenly said that before starting, Vengeance, who had been standing off to one side watching blankly, came over.

"Am I your subordinate? You think you can order me around with this kind of thing?"

When Encrid thrust out his sword, Vengeance grumbled but tightened the strap on the grip.

When I saw this bastard's head fall, it felt really damn awful.

It had been the same when Esther was hurt.

The moment he saw the black panther with eyes that held a lake go flying, something like anger had surged up.

If he had to put that feeling into words, it was either goddamn it or fuck this.

'What did I ever do for them to try to die in my place?'

The bitter feeling still remained. Like afterimages, Vengeance's severed head and Esther being flung away floated before him.

'And what's with Esther being so drained today?'

What was that panther normally like?

She was vicious. She was a beast that clawed and tore at soldiers' shins and took their lives.

If someone looked down on her because she was small, she was a predator that would climb all the way up to their neck and tear out their throat in an instant.

And yet she had been beaten that helplessly?

'She really was drained.'

In any case.

Since they were risking their lives for him.

Encrid decided he would do the same.

He would risk his life and draw his sword. If he could put his heart into training too, he decided he would try it that way.

"You really do seem insane. When it's time to rest, you're supposed to rest."

Vengeance said that as he handed Encrid's sword back.

Encrid took it in his left hand and answered.

"Sorry about Jenny."

"... You knew?"

Vengeance ruffled his own hair once, then spat out his words.

"I know it wasn't your fault."

This bastard really was strange.

His moods went up and down.

When Encrid had not understood, he had been that angry.

Encrid patted Vengeance on the shoulder with his injured hand.

"There must be a woman somewhere on the continent who doesn't care about faces."

"... You son of a bitch?"

Seeing Vengeance's face twist made his heart feel much lighter.

Yes, this was the flavor of it.

He could understand Rem's heart.

People did not tease and torment others for no reason.

Vengeance withdrew while grumbling.

Encrid stood with his sword in hand. The tip of the sword held in his left hand pointed slantwise toward the sky.

What had he experienced in the repeated today, the dead today?

He chewed over the past. He solidified the basics. He immersed himself. He sank into his own world.

That was rapture.

It was a different form of joy from before.

The kind of pleasure that could only be felt by being wholly absorbed in one thing.

The moment he shook off the afterimages left in his heart through his joke with Vengeance and sank wholly into his own world.

Encrid relived the experience from the today that had passed.

Repeat it and reflect on it.

This time, the leather strap wrapped around the grip did not snap either.

"It begins with the feet."

The countless swordsmanship instructors who had brushed past his life.

He recalled their teachings.

The basics. Standing before walking, crawling before standing.

He returned to fundamentals. These were things he had to learn before discussing The Oniak Sword Technique.

Repetitive training to hold the sword and move it as he wished.

Encrid did that.

SWISH! WHOOSH, WHUMP.

A fairly sharp sound mixed in among the dull ones.

As he forgot the flow of time and swung his sword countless times.

FWEEEEET!

The long-toned sound of a whistle rang out.

"Hm?"

For some reason, Vengeance, who had been watching in a daze, reacted first.

"What is it!"

He shouted and turned around, and Encrid also came out of his immersed world.

GRR.

Esther, sensing that the air around them had changed, came out of the barracks and stood beside Encrid.

Encrid lightly tapped her head with his fingertips and said.

"Don't step in today. You're tired."

What? This human? For Esther, it was a natural question to have.

It sounded as though he knew she was exhausted today. Had he noticed the trick she had used yesterday to relieve his fatigue?

Of course he had not.

He only knew through the experience he had gained from repeated todays.

"Captain!"

Krais could be seen running over as he shouted.

Encrid briefly planted the tip of his sword into the ground and thought.

Should he switch it to his right hand?

Would that mean anything?

Injuries did not recover. If he died, he would only return.

He would do it with his left hand.

Had he not come to that conclusion?

There was no hesitation. To begin with, Encrid was not the sort of person who pondered and agonized deeply.

There was no option of being trapped in today.

There was no option of running away.

Then all he had to do was find what he could do and do it.

And this was it.

RATTLE.

He knocked aside a few pebbles as he pulled the sword from the ground and aimed it forward.

"... When I return, I shall have to make a donation to the temple."

Mitch Hurrier said that as he appeared, stepping on the pebbles. His hair was soaked, and a sword was in his hand.

His refined stance and sharp gaze were certainly different from before.

"What the hell is he talking about?"

Vengeance, standing beside him, leveled his spear as if growling. Beside him, Esther actually growled and gave a beastly rumble.

A heavy rumble spread from deep in her throat.

It was a sound that would make a timid human's knees go weak, but there was no hesitation in Mitch Hurrier's steps.

STEP, STEP.

He walked without hesitation and closed the distance.

"I'll go first."

Encrid said that and stepped forward.

"Captain, your wrist!"

Krais shouted from behind in an urgent voice. Big-eyes seemed quite shocked too.

An enemy had suddenly charged in, and allied soldiers were dropping left and right.

"Aaaagh, agh!"

"Fuck! Block them!"

"Kill them!"

All around them was noise. Amid the clashing ring of metal.

Mitch Hurrier's steps stopped.

Encrid answered Krais.

"My left hand is fine."

What kind of crazy bullshit was that?

Krais opened his already large eyes even wider. He could not understand the Platoon Commander's bullshit at all.

It was something no one there could understand. It was more than enough to sound like nonsense.

However, unlike his words, Encrid's spirit alone was not inferior to his opponent's.

The opponent's pressure encompassed and crushed the area around them.

Vengeance felt as though he were shrinking.

This must be what it meant to overwhelm one's surroundings.

Even Esther felt the pressure.

Krais was no exception.

They were in no position to receive help from the soldiers nearby either.

He knew that if things went wrong, he would be in danger of dying.

And yet, even under this pressure, why did Encrid's back look so large?

He was standing there. He stood in front. He showed them his back.

Those few facts seemed to push the pressure away.

A spirit that opposed the opponent's spirit.

Yes, it seemed as though something like that could be seen.

Mitch Hurrier and Encrid exchanged gazes.

"I had hoped we would meet again."

"And you opened your eyes thanks to me?"

At those words, Mitch's brow creased slightly. Shaking the opponent's mind with words was the most basic of basics even in the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

After shaking the opponent's mind with what he knew through repeated todays.

Encrid waved his injured right hand. As though it meant something.

Mitch reflexively moved his sword.

He startled him with words, moved his right hand to deceive him once again, then thrust the sword in his left hand upward from below.

It was the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique's Double Draw.

He could not say the left-handed thrust was perfect. It did not satisfy him either.

After all, he had only handled the sword for about two days.

CLANG!

It was blocked.

The thrust had been clumsy, yes, but more than anything, Mitch Hurrier's skill had improved beyond recognition.

In a way, almost as much as Encrid, who had repeated today.

He met the sword thrust upward from below with his own sword, deflected it, and stepped forward with his left foot.

A graceful motion followed.

Mitch's sword drew a smooth arc and cut across Encrid's chest.

SCRAAAPE.

When he instinctively stepped back, his leather armor withstood Mitch's sword once.

But that was the limit.

SNARL!

Behind him, Esther tried to leap in again.

"You crazy bastard!"

Vengeance burst into anger.

"Captain!"

Krais shouted.

Mitch Hurrier was not affected by anything around him.

Whatever anyone said, he did what he had to do.

As though he had expected Encrid to dodge, he switched the positions of both feet front and back with a step to close the distance, then thrust his sword.

SHUNK!

"Your right hand?"

Mitch asked while keeping his sword thrust in. Encrid raised his right hand to show him. His right hand in a splint, injured.

"Hm."

As Encrid tried to answer, crimson blood flowed from his mouth.

"You were unlucky."

CRUNCH.

The blade was pulled out. A person whose heart had been split could not survive.

After that, Krais said something, Vengeance charged in, and Esther charged in too.

Why did they keep charging in, anyway?

After those events, Encrid met the darkness of the abyss together with pain.

Death had come again.

And after he opened his eyes, he repeated left-hand training again.

On some days, he quietly devoted himself only to training.

On other days.

"Jenny was a woman with good eyes."

"... I'll kill you?"

He teased Vengeance for no particular reason too.

In that way, he repeated today a dozen or so times.

"Your right hand is injured!"

He also heard an excited Krais shout that.

"I told you, I still have my left hand."

"What the hell are you even saying, seriously!"

He mixed in the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, but it did not work at all.

So from the next time on, he mixed in wrestling techniques.

Before drawing his sword, he threw the last Whistle Dagger he had left, closed the distance, pretended to draw his sword, and then hooked his foot.

Mitch endured Encrid's foot simply by bending his knees and lowering his center of gravity.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Next came the work of swinging his sword again.

At first, he could not even endure one exchange, but after roughly thirty times, he began enduring two, then three.

And on the forty-second today.

For the first time, there was a change Encrid had not intended.

"Have a bout with me."

Vengeance, who had been watching, suddenly requested a spar.

Feeling sweat run down his forehead, Encrid tilted his head.

"With me?"

"Then who else would I do it with?"

Encrid nodded. This was like a habit for him. After all, he did not know how to refuse a spar.

Originally, Vengeance could not have been Encrid's opponent, but the current Encrid was using a sword with his left hand.

"I won't go easy on you."

Vengeance said that and thrust out his spear. His momentum was quite fierce.

*TING. * Encrid struck the spearhead with his sword in greeting.

The spar had begun.