Chapter 3 - One Day

A day exactly the same as yesterday.

'A dream?'

It felt so vivid, but was it a dream?

He was dumbfounded.

Whether it was a dream, or if it was real.

The battlefield he faced after spending a day similar to yesterday.

Another chaotic melee. Fighting in a similar spot made him feel like illusions were reflexively overlapping in his vision.

'Wasn't it like this yesterday, too?'

He stopped thinking and shook his head.

They were distracting thoughts. It must have been a dream.

Did he get lucky and have a prophetic dream or something?

'Can you really call having a prophetic dream lucky?'

He didn't know. There was no way to tell.

Encrid was confused.

Especially.

When his oiled shield was split.

"Fuck, I almost died."

It was even more so when Bell said those words.

"Bell, did your head get split open and make you lose your mind?"

As he reflexively spat out the words he remembered.

"What crazy shit are you saying?"

Bell gathered himself and stood up. Encrid looked at Bell and thought.

Bell was going to die soon.

Should he just watch it happen?

He watched.

Because it felt so unreal, he left it be.

A flash of light blew Bell's head off, and his eyeball popped out to strike Encrid's chest once again.

"What do you plan to do, standing around spacing out like that?"

Rem saved him again.

"What?"

"Have you finally lost it?"

Rem twirled a finger beside his ear. Encrid could see the axe held in his hand.

"Today, some bastard called The Hawk or The Claw of the Hawk or whatever is coming, and I have to go catch him, so get a grip. Tsk, you're making me anxious; if I leave you alone, you'll probably die in no time."

"Worry about yourself."

He replied reflexively, and Rem tilted his head but still stepped away.

"I told you to focus, you really don't listen."

Muttering that, Rem left.

He picked up an axe that had rolled onto the ground with his left hand instead of a shield, and stood on the battlefield holding a sword in his right.

It felt unsettling.

While he was holding out like that.

An enemy soldier closed the distance from the front.

It happened in an instant. He was a guy who knew how to use his feet.

There was a guy among his sword tutors who had said something like that.

Something about seventy percent of swordsmanship being in the footwork.

As the blade flashed into view, Encrid faced the moment of his death once again.

In that split second, his concentration shone. He saw a dot.

The dot shrank, then quickly grew larger.

Encrid watched it until the very end.

Until that dot became a blade and pierced his neck.

'Ah.'

No screams or groans came out. Because his throat had been pierced.

Only the sound of air escaping with a *HSSSSS* came from his throat.

Terrible pain spread from his throat to his entire body. Encrid clutched his neck and collapsed to the ground.

As he lay there gushing blood.

"This is mercy."

The enemy soldier, who had been watching him for a moment, said this as he drove the tip of his sword into his head.

With that, darkness returned.

And Encrid heard it again.

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG.

The sound of a pot being struck with a ladle.

"I want to ask why you've got that look in your eyes this morning."

It was Rem from the bed next to him.

He said this while holding his boot.

Another day. The same day.

'A dream?'

"Did you have a shitty dream or something?"

"Right, it's a dream?"

"Ah, fuck, a bug."

Rem shook the bug out of his boot, spat a glob of phlegm, and crushed it underfoot.

It was the third time he was seeing this scene.

Encrid didn't put on his boots or equip his gear. He just sat there blankly.

'This is a dream?'

The day started again.

Bell died and Rem saved him.

Rem left to find an archer nicknamed after a body part of a hawk.

An enemy soldier skilled with a sword blocked his path.

"What are you?"

Encrid asked.

The enemy stabbed with his sword without answering. That thrust that made him marvel every time he saw it.

THUMP.

His heart beat. His concentration kicked in. Encrid could see the tip of the sword more clearly than before.

He twisted his body and dodged.

RRRIP!

He didn't get a very good result. The elegant thrust failed to pierce Encrid's neck, but it tore a huge chunk out of the side of it.

A burning pain spread along the nape of his neck to his entire body.

He collapsed to the ground again.

Blood poured out in thick spurts.

"This is mercy."

The blade dropped down onto his head.

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!

"Aargh!"

He woke up screaming.

The pain was still vivid. Encrid stroked his neck.

"A nightmare? Did a witch pop your cherry or something?"

Rem spouted a trivial joke.

"There's a bug in your boot."

Encrid said this, covering half his face with his hand.

The pain of dying was one thing.

But he couldn't begin to grasp what the hell was going on.

"What? What the, how did you know?"

Rem threw the bug in his boot onto the floor, spat a glob of phlegm, and crushed it underfoot.

"I just did."

"Are you a prophet?"

"No."

He waved his hand dismissively as he spoke.

Encrid finished getting ready as usual and started to head out, but stopped.

"Rem."

"What is it?"

"My head hurts too much. Take care of your own meals, and if anyone looks for me, tell them I'm sick in the barracks."

"If you just want to slack off, sure."

Rem chuckled. He was a guy who laughed easily.

If this wasn't a dream.

If things were repeating again after he died.

Was that really it? Could such a thing happen?

Encrid needed time to organize his thoughts.

He went back inside the barracks, took off his gear, and sat down.

He thought and thought again.

How could something like this happen?

'The cause?'

Something suddenly came to mind, and he fumbled around in his pockets. It wasn't there. The necklace he had received from the village chief of the slash-and-burn farmers was gone.

'Because of that?'

A longing? A wish?

'A blessing?'

No, could this even be called a blessing?

When it was just the same day repeating?

Moreover, Encrid had heard rumors about blessing-type artifacts, but he had never seen or heard of a case like this.

'Isn't it closer to a curse than a blessing?'

Thinking this, Encrid stroked his neck.

It hurt terribly. It hurt like hell every time he died.

His head felt like it would burst from the complicated thoughts.

When he even skipped lunch, Rem came in bringing some food.

"What are you acting like this for? Do you really just want to slack off?"

His expression showed he didn't actually believe that.

Encrid was known around here for being a hard worker.

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Encrid nodded twice.

"That's a first. Take a rest, then. They say there's a battle late in the afternoon, so get some good rest. I'll cover for you, so recover your strength until then."

Rem left.

Time passed. There was no way his thoughts could be organized.

Because this wasn't the kind of thing that could be sorted out just by thinking about it.

WAAAAAH!

He heard shouts. The ground shook. The battle had begun.

Encrid had no intention of going out.

Because if he went out, he would die to that thrust.

He tried to hold out like that.

Even so, he couldn't hold out forever. A mere expendable pawn on the battlefield couldn't turn a blind eye to the fighting just because he felt sick.

"Everyone get ready and move out! It's a battle!"

There was a watchman making rounds inside the barracks.

Encrid geared up and headed out.

He fought again.

He fought much further in the rear than yesterday.

He held out without seeing either Bell or Rem.

With a *SWOOSH*, the front lines wavered.

The enemy's movements were unusual. The allied forces were pushed back.

Before he knew it, Encrid was standing at the front lines.

And he met that guy again.

Was this a coincidence, or was it inevitable?

He didn't know. But one thing was certain: no matter where he went on the battlefield, he would either die or run into this guy.

Therefore, now was the time to worry about 'how', not 'why'.

Instead of figuring out why they kept meeting, he had to figure out how to survive.

The thrust.

The blade flew at him.

'What was the name of the technique?'

Rem had told him about a technique while telling him to focus. He had said that as long as he knew how to do this, he wouldn't die a dog's death on the battlefield.

He had also said that even if he was trapped in a monster's lair, he had to calmly catch his breath.

What Encrid was attempting right now was what Rem had taught him.

He had called it the heart of something.

The name brushed through his mind, almost coming to him.

That skill, whose name he couldn't even remember, shone once again. Watching the blade, Encrid realized he was holding his breath.

THUMP.

His heart pounded. He watched the timing and angle of the blade digging into his neck.

He threw his body to the side. He rolled across the ground in an unsightly manner, but he survived.

His joy was short-lived.

THWACK!

An impact hit the back of his head, followed by a terrible pain. His mind went blank. He didn't even realize he had collapsed to the ground.

Another enemy soldier from behind had struck his helmet with an axe.

After taking that hit, he looked up with dazed eyes.

"This is mercy."

The Stabbing Pervert drove his blade in once again.

SQUELCH.

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!

He opened his eyes again.

A repeating day.

'Let's not think.'

Let's not think about whether the necklace was a blessing or a curse.

Let's not think about what was happening right now either.

There were only two things to think about now.

Surviving on the battlefield.

And doing whatever it takes to achieve that.

"There's a bug in your boot."

"Huh? Are you a prophet?"

"What was it? That thing you tried to teach me before."

BLINK, BLINK.

Rem blinked his eyes and then spoke.

"The Beast's Heart?"

Right. That was the name.

Beast's Heart.

How could one keep their eyes wide open with a mere human heart on a battlefield where spears, swords, and axes flew around?

You can do it if you embrace a Beast's Heart, so do just that.

The things Rem had told him came to mind.

"Teach it to me again."

"Huh?"

Rem looked bewildered.

Encrid understood Rem.

There was a time when he struggled fiercely to learn, and Rem, taken by that passion, struggled fiercely to teach him.

In the end, Encrid gained nothing, and Rem taught him nothing.

Not closing your eyes in a split second was said to be the foundation of the training.

Keeping your eyes open until the very brink of death wasn't something you could do with ordinary courage.

And it wasn't something that just ended with keeping your eyes open, either.

In Encrid's eyes, Rem's skills were better than those of a typical first-rate mercenary.

Watching his axe until it was halfway into his neck before dodging was the core of the training.

"Let's do it, the training."

Passion burned in Encrid's eyes.

A spark had been lit in his chest.

'Is there a need to figure out whether this is a blessing or a curse?'

He had no talent. He knew that.

And time was fair to everyone.

Therefore, a dullard could never beat a genius.

But what if time wasn't fair?

Even if it was a curse, that was fine. This was a lifeline. A lifeline that would allow him to move forward.

"Sounds good. Lately you've been drained of energy like a dog that lost its bone, but seeing you so full of life today gives me energy, too."

Rem said as he stood up.

"Right after breakfast."

"Sure, let's do that."

They ate breakfast and washed their bowls.

They shared a trivial conversation about how becoming a knight was his dream, and Rem laughed at it.

After that, it was time for the lesson.

"Did you forget the training method?"

"Not at all."

It had been so memorable that Encrid had even had nightmares because of Rem's training.

Nightmares of that damn axe cleaving his neck.

"Let's get to it."

The gist of the training was simple.

To dodge with his eyes wide open right as the axe was about to cut his neck.

If Rem made a mistake, Encrid would die.

Originally, he had been too scared of that to do it properly.

But the situation was a bit different now.

'Even if I die, it'll just be CLANG, CLANG, CLANG again.'

It was time to lose his fear. He awakened the Beast's Heart, the concentration he had learned from his first death.

Encrid's heart began to beat.

The erratic heartbeat that had pounded from surprise grew calm.

A beast doesn't startle easily. The slowed heartbeat brought him equanimity.

Equanimity—the core of the Beast's Heart.

His calm mind allowed him to capture the trajectory of the axe blade with his eyes.

As for physical training, he had never stopped doing it all this time.

Dodging after seeing the trajectory wasn't difficult.

The axe blade cleaved through the air. Encrid stepped back with his right foot in time and pulled his body back.

The axe brushed right past his eyes.

"... Have you been practicing in secret?"

Rem asked.

"A little."

"Sounds good. That's good. But your timing just now was a little fast. You have to dodge right before it hits."

It was a training to thicken the skin over his heart.

Rem swung his axe.

Encrid waited until the exact moment the axe was about to cut his neck before dodging.

"Ha, even in my tribe, there were only a few guys who actually learned and pulled this off. It's fascinating."

The morning training came to an end.

Rem patted Encrid's shoulder.

"You did well. With this much, you'll be able to handle the clumsy ones in actual combat."

"And if it's someone beyond clumsy?"

"What are you trying to ask?"

"What if I face a guy like that?"

"Are you asking because you don't know?"

When Encrid stared intently at him, Rem continued speaking. He had a look in his eyes that seemed to wonder why this guy was acting like this today.

"You have to run away."

Right, running away.

Facing off against an opponent stronger than yourself on the battlefield was an act of madness.

Encrid had survived this long because he was perceptive and knew his place.

And right now.

"Wouldn't it be better to practice against someone who isn't clumsy, then? With this?"

"If you train like that, even a hundred lives wouldn't be enough."

Rem chuckled. Listening to his laughter, Encrid thought.

That it felt like he had just gained hundreds of lives.

Whether it was a blessing or a curse.

'If I can use it, I will use every bit of it.'

Encrid had lived his life that way up until now.

Because he had lived that way, he planned to do the same now.

That thrust—he would face it.

That was his intention. Wasn't he a great training partner?

The pain of dying was terrible, but the payoff was just as grand.

For the first time in over ten years, Encrid felt the joy of growth.

A joy that filled his heart to the absolute brim.

It was a sense of fulfillment that couldn't even be compared to drugs.