Chapter 137 - A New Day

At moments of crisis, humans sometimes display strength beyond their limits.

Drawing that out and using it even in ordinary times—that was the Heart of Monstrous Strength.

A name given with the meaning of drawing out the heart of the beast itself.

Originally, in his tribe, when they used this technique, they said the god they worshiped or some shamanic power dwelled within their bodies, but...

Yes, there was a shamanic effect.

A god? That was bullshit.

'But it's far from real shamanism, that's what.'

Based on what he had experienced and created himself, Rem had his own theory.

'Something inside the body comes out and makes the heart beat faster, that's what.'

The human body was mysterious.

It was one of those mysteries.

When something inside the body started working, strength flooded the muscles.

After that, the Heart of Monstrous Strength activated.

So it was neither shamanism nor divine descent.

When had he first realized this?

Amid countless axe blades, at the moment he was about to die, something burst out from inside his body, and when it reached his muscles, he could use strength several times greater than usual.

How had that happened?

After exploring and studying it.

He realized that when the blood began to whirl madly through the whole body, the heart beat several times faster than usual.

A shamanic trigger was needed for this, but that was not the foundation.

He thought it was a matter of focus, or perhaps sensation.

"Focus. Again."

Rem spoke as he continued thinking.

Encrid stood before him.

Soon the two placed their hands over each other's hearts.

Since there was that damned focus-improving technique the lazy bastard had taught him, it might work.

Well, if it did not, then so be it.

Rem had already half given up.

What could he do?

Even in his tribe in the past, the number of people who had grasped this could be counted on one hand.

And every last one of them, despite possessing bodies like iron walls beyond mere robustness, had narrowly passed through the crisis of death again and again.

"I dipped my foot in some river and came back out."

He had often heard things like that too.

In other words, with the Heart of Monstrous Strength, the vessel came first.

Even if it activated properly, the body would break first.

Then could the Platoon Commander handle this?

The vessel itself was not bad.

The abusive physical routine the hulking religious bastard taught him every morning.

That was precisely the act of tempering the body.

If the hulking religious bastard had not done it, Rem had been thinking of helping hone the Platoon Commander's body by other means himself.

However, the hulking religious bastard's method looked more efficient.

So he had left it alone.

Therefore, the vessel had roughly been made.

That did not mean he intended to force it.

If possible, he would beat it into him, but if it was impossible, of course he would give up.

"Feel it."

Encrid listened to Rem's words.

He listened faithfully.

As always, with his mind composed, in a posture of attentive listening.

However, he had already realized something.

It was when he learned Concentrate on a Single Point from Ragna.

He was a genius.

So he must have been able to learn anything easily.

He must have understood anything easily.

What had he said back then?

'Did he say the fear of death raises concentration?'

That statement was only half right.

What was actually needed was an opponent who would make him draw out every last bit of the ability he had, right down to the bottom.

It was similar now.

'No, is it the opposite of back then?'

The conclusion he reached along with that small realization.

It began with what the Heart of Monstrous Strength was.

When humans faced intense pressure or a situation resembling it, they sometimes produced strength beyond their limits.

That could happen.

This idea came from there.

To achieve the Heart of Monstrous Strength, one had to feel pressure that brought one to the point of death.

Through the last fight—no, along with all the lives he had lived until now—Encrid had accumulated many experiences.

Even more so, layer upon layer, as he repeated today.

This was the conclusion he had reached based on that experience.

"More."

Something from Rem's hand touched Encrid's heart.

Originally, he had only been conveying that this was what it felt like, subtly pressuring the area around Encrid's heart.

That was how it had been until now.

Rem used the shamanic effect from his side.

Should he call it transferring sensation?

In any case, it was for the purpose of passing on the sense of making the heart beat faster.

"More."

Encrid spoke.

His eyes were half-lidded.

He was in a state of focus, and more focus.

"How many times have I told you, you have to be careful with this?"

The word careful came from the mouth of a man who was called insane beyond mere boldness.

It sounded like he would die if it went wrong.

Danger, crisis, pressure.

Those things, that thing requiring caution.

Encrid needed that.

The feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff with a strong wind at his back.

A moment when one wrong move might kill him.

Pressure that could never be approached by deliberately dying, by mere suicide, a moment for the utmost struggle.

Literally, he needed that crossroads where one wrong move led to death.

And if he could do it while feeling the sensation that made his heart beat, that would be the best.

"More."

Encrid spoke again, still with his eyes half-lidded.

Rem's brow tightened.

Had this bastard really gone mad?

He was the one who had been called the plain lunatic, but somehow this one seemed to have gone even crazier.

"Let's stop."

As he spoke, Rem tried to lower his hand slightly.

With a tap, Encrid seized Rem's wrist.

With his left hand on Rem's chest and his right hand gripping Rem's wrist, which rested on his own chest, Encrid spoke again.

"Do it."

Because Encrid's gaze was half lowered, Rem could not see Encrid's eyes.

Had his eyes really rolled back in his head?

"You crazy?"

Rem's eyes turned fierce.

Wasn't he basically asking Rem to kill him with his own hand?

There were things that could not be solved by passion and desire.

There were also times when one had to acknowledge one's limits by stepping back...

Rem's thoughts broke off.

There was a voice digging into his thoughts, his reason, and his emotions.

"Just do it."

It was an order.

An order that had to be obeyed.

If words had power, Rem felt it now.

Though there was no shamanism, no spell, not even that "power" said to be the exclusive possession of knights.

Deep in his heart, what kind of existence was Encrid to Rem?

Encrid lifted his gaze.

The two men's eyes met.

Flame against flame.

The colors were different, but they were flames that would burn each other completely.

Blue fire and gray fire tangled together.

They glared at each other as if they would kill each other.

Was there anything to gain from winning this fight?

No.

At best, someone would end up half crippled.

And it would not be him, but the bastard standing before him.

Then why?

Even so, Rem simply wanted to do it.

He found himself wanting to.

He had to obey this man's order.

It felt as though he should.

It felt as though he wanted to.

Was the reason he could not ignore it because of his own instincts?

Or was it because he was too intoxicated by this man called the Platoon Commander before his eyes?

"Do it."

Encrid's mouth opened again.

"Goddamn it."

Rem spat a curse and squeezed Encrid's heart.

A thought quietly rose in one corner of his mind, that Encrid must be telling him to do it because he had something he trusted.

After rationalizing it to himself, Rem used his strength properly.

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP!

Beat madly and send blood through the whole body.

The pressure of the surging blood would soon interlock with the heart.

Thus, it would let the whole body, the muscles, exert monstrous strength beyond their limits.

THUMP.

Encrid felt terrible pain.

He had been stabbed by swords and spears, and arrows had lodged in him.

Since he had died again and again, he should have grown dull to pain, but...

For some reason, this was different every time he died.

Death.

That is, the Boatswain of the Black River came to mind.

THUMP, THUMP, THUUUMP.

Encrid's eyes flew open.

Rem saw his bloodshot eyes.

"Shit."

Why had he done it?

Why had he listened to this bastard?

Rem regretted it.

And Encrid was satisfied.

He smiled.

A small realization would soon become a milestone on the path he would walk.

THUMP.

The heart that had spat out its final beat stopped.

Something that had activated beyond its limit struck the heart and made it stop.

That was death.

The surroundings began to be dyed in darkness.

"Stop."

Jaxon's voice came through the darkness settling around them.

"Crazy bastard."

Ragna's voice could be heard too.

"Brother, what have you done?"

He also felt a rough hand seize his wrist.

But everything was too late.

Neither divine power nor any miraculous medicine...

Could save a person whose heart had stopped, whose body had been placed in the cradle of death.

Encrid died.

It was a different kind of experience.

In a way, it could be called suicide.

The method to obtain the Heart of Monstrous Strength.

No matter how much he thought and thought, he felt there was no other path.

This was the result of today's struggle, which he believed was the best way.

Give up on the Heart of Monstrous Strength?

If he had intended to give up like that and move forward...

'I would have settled.'

He would not settle.

He would move forward.

Half a step at a time, and if even that was impossible, by crawling.

A resonance twisted his entire body.

It came after he endured all the waves of pain.

SWELL.

The darkness faded, and when he opened his eyes...

He saw the Boatswain of the Black River.

There were no words.

Only when the Boatswain showed his will could Encrid hear his laughter or his words.

The current him let neither laughter nor words be heard.

Encrid merely felt a blank stare looking at him.

That gaze...

'Just what the hell is this bastard?'

Contained only curiosity and doubt.

When Encrid opened his eyes again, it was early dawn.

In other words, the start of a day like any other.

Encrid raised only his upper body from the bed, let out a deep breath, and spoke.

"I think it's really fucking awful, Rem."

"... I'm awake, you know."

"I can hear everything."

"I know."

"And you're cursing me as fucking awful first thing in the morning?"

"Did I show up naked in your dream or something?"

"No, it's just fucking awful."

A technique that he could barely even lick at only by putting his life on the line.

Was that not one hell of a fucking awful technique?

Even so...

On the day right before he died, on a day Rem would not remember, Encrid had smiled.

He had been satisfied.

Because every moment he saw a path was always ecstasy to him.

"Good morning."

Encrid tossed out the words and went outside to start the day.

"... You said it was fucking awful."

Behind him, Rem grumbled and stuck out his lips.

At any rate, he thought the Platoon Commander was not normal either.

And that was not wrong.

Encrid greeted a new day.

A spring day, a season said to be imbued with mana.

The world was still in spring.

And Encrid had to enjoy this spring for the time being.

Changing his heart anew could not possibly be easy.

"It's a truly good day."

Because it was a day when he could see a milestone, he did not dislike it.

After that, Encrid died countless more times.

However, there were also days when he could not die and had to spend the day through.

Intentional death.

Then would he simply move on to the next day?

Such a thought occurred to him, but...

It seemed to loop back based on the first death.

Aside from his curiosity about what would happen, at the end of days when he could not convince Rem, could not die, and exhausted and exhausted his body...

When he slept and woke, he returned to the original today.

Should he call it a branch point that began with death?

How did it work like this?

The question arose, but he quickly erased it.

What was the point of thinking?

In the today that remained, he would only work his body.

On days when he could not die and had to spend today through, there was nothing he could do about it.

Even when he showed Rem his force each time and spoke with sincerity and earnestness, the results changed.

"Trust me and do it."

"No, fuck, do you think this makes any sense?"

"I'm going crazy, seriously."

On the days he succeeded, in other words, the days he persuaded Rem, he saw an expression he had never seen from him before.

A strange expression of bewilderment, confusion, absurdity, and something like intoxication.

"No, if it can't be done, it can't be done."

When he met the opposite moment, he saw an expression showing firm resolve.

What was the difference between the two "todays"?

There did not seem to be any great difference.

It was the same that he spoke sincerely.

There was one difference.

After repeating it about sixty-six times, he seemed to have a rough idea.

What was lacking beyond sincerity and earnestness?

"Do it."

He had to order him.

Why?

Why did a man of Rem's caliber follow his words so faithfully?

Curiosity raised its head, but...

He put it off.

As time passed, someday there would be a chance to know.

That was not now.

"Do it."

"Do it."

"Do it."

"Do it."

"Do it."

"Do it."

"Do it, I said."

"I told you to do it."

"Do it."

"Do it."

"You just have to do it."

"Just do it."

"Shut up and do your job."

He endured countless todays.

Thus today passed, then another today, then today again.

"Huh?"

"What?"

From a certain point on, he no longer needed Rem's hand.

It was around the time he had passed eighty repetitions.

After that, it did feel like he was throwing a fit all by himself.

It was thanks to having mastered the sensation even without Rem doing it for him.

After repeating it again and again like that...

The Boatswain of the Black River appeared in his dream once more.

"That was not a wall."

The Boatswain spoke, and Encrid listened.

He still could not answer.

Not even a fragment of emotion could be seen in the Boatswain's words.

A ferry floating on the black river, the Boatswain, the swelling waves.

Encrid was on the boat.

"Go."

At the Boatswain's words, Encrid opened his eyes.

He did not particularly question his words.

Nor did he thrust curiosity at him.

He could not even ask anything when he saw Rem obeying his orders right now.

What was the point of knowing the inner thoughts of a Boatswain whose hobby was rowing?

Only the words that it had not been a wall remained deep in his chest.

What was a wall?

It must be an obstacle that made him repeat today.

The Boatswain's words probably meant that what he was doing now was separate from his will.

'So what am I supposed to do about it?'

Of course, it was none of Encrid's concern.

Whether it remained deep in his chest or was lodged shallowly, he pulled it out and threw it away.

He had many things to do, so he could ignore trivial matters.

"Good morning, Rem."

Encrid left the greeting and stood up.

"Hm?"

"How did you know I was awake?"

"Just because."

How did he know?

Because he had repeated it more than a hundred times, that was how.

The start of a new day.

Encrid activated the Heart of Monstrous Strength.

THUMP!

His heart beat and infused strength into the muscles throughout his body.

His blood raced madly.

A horse galloped through the blood vessels of his whole body as if they were well-paved roads.

THUMP.

And his heart did not burst.

"... I'm going to ask just two things."

It came right after.

Rem spoke.

Encrid had shown him on purpose at the time Rem would come out, so he would see it.

To show him that he had learned it properly.

That he had done it.

"One is whether you might be from the west."

"Two is..."

Rem chose his words once, then asked carefully.

"Were you actually a genius?"

Encrid let out a snort of laughter.

To think such words would come from Rem.

He had not expected it at all.

"No, to both."

When he answered plainly, Rem did send him a look of disbelief.

"But this can happen in one day?"

To Encrid, it could not be called one day.

But to Rem, it was one day.

He had seen him use a technique he could not even get the feel for after a single night.

Encrid, whose skin had flushed red all over, put on the Heart of Monstrous Strength and spoke.

Worrying, being shocked, being dumbfounded, all of that was fine, but...

"One spar?"

Did he not want to work his body right now?

"Tch, sounds good."

Rem responded.

He was not the sort of person who lived carrying worries either.

CLANG.

Sword and axe.

They greeted each other.

A spar again, another spar, a moment to gauge his growth.