Chapter 35 - He Was Purely Delighted

The members of the troublemaker squad all had strong personalities, but they shared a common trait.

They had little interest in their surroundings.

Among them, Ragna was the type who especially didn't care about how others looked at him, nor did he pay it any mind.

'Just filling his belly, just fighting, just living.'

While living so half-heartedly, he also slept a lot.

Because Ragna was like that, Encrid had been secretly surprised when he stepped up to volunteer for the reconnaissance squad in his place the other day.

'That Ragna is volunteering to go on reconnaissance instead?'

'Has our lazy squad member changed?'

That wasn't it.

Ragna was fickle and acted on a whim.

He had stepped up at the time because he was caught up in the mood, but he would have probably said he wouldn't go in less than a day—no, in less than half a day.

He hadn't sent him because he expected that to happen in the first place, anyway.

It wasn't for nothing that Encrid handled most of the bothersome missions in the troublemaker squad.

In a way, Ragna's personality could be considered the exact opposite of Encrid's own.

He tended to lack motivation in everything, whereas Encrid was the type to carve out time to swing his sword.

Of course, Ragna swung his sword occasionally, too.

Just as he had seen when he returned, there were times when he hung out with Rem, and times when he played an active role on the battlefield.

Though Ragna would mutter *'I didn't mean to'* every time that happened.

Because Encrid knew Ragna was like that, it was fascinating to see him show interest in him.

'For what reason?'

It was a truly rare occurrence.

Sometimes he would ask for things or make demands.

But he wasn't the type to persistently organize his questions while keeping his eyes locked on someone for days on end like this.

Encrid lowered the hand that had been scratching his forehead.

Among the squad members, Rem was on the more active side, but that bastard Rem only dealt with people from outside a certain boundary.

Looking closely, you could see it.

He was the type who didn't let people inside his boundaries.

In a way, you could say he was a pickier type than a slacker like Ragna.

Still, Rem said what needed to be said.

Ragna was the type who rarely even said what was necessary.

It was a question from that Ragna. That was why it was fascinating.

For a moment, he looked into Ragna's eyes.

A still silence passed between the two.

Encrid stared intently as if having a staring contest, then soon raised his head.

A cloudless sky came into view.

It had rained often lately, but now he saw a vivid blue sky without even a small cloud.

His chest naturally felt open and refreshed.

Looking at the sky, his thoughts of why the guy was acting like this, for what reason he was asking such a question, and whether his guessed intentions were right all disappeared.

Encrid threw away his worries.

Since he asked, he would answer.

Whether dealing with a sword or dealing with a person, he just did his best in everything.

'Since when did I worry about things like this.'

Because what he wanted was very far away even when he did his best in everything, he had always lived a life of yearning.

Ragna had asked.

Why he went to such lengths.

He was probably talking about him swinging his sword every chance he got.

He was probably talking about his attitude of not treating anything half-heartedly.

He was probably asking about his mindset of not giving up despite his meager skills.

So Encrid answered the question with a question.

"What if I was good at using a sword?"

The outskirts of the temporarily constructed encampment.

In a place with no shade, with the sunlight enveloping them both, Ragna's gaze lingered on Encrid's face. Encrid opened his mouth again.

"What would have happened if I was? What could I have become?"

Encrid's voice was elegant. It sounded like a well-made instrument.

At least, it sounded that way to Ragna.

It wasn't a voice flushed with feverish passion, nor was it a despondent voice.

It was as leisurely and calm as if he were reading a fairytale to a child.

"Right now, I swing my sword to survive. But I don't want to live like that."

With those words, Encrid swung his sword. Vertically, from top to bottom.

SWOOSH.

The blade sliced through the air and spread its distinct scent.

The scent of the battlefield mixed with the smell of iron tickled the tip of Ragna's nose.

Encrid continued what he was doing, regardless of whether Ragna was next to him or not.

He was training with his sword.

From top to bottom.

From bottom to top.

Diagonally, then to the side again.

Soon, imagining a hypothetical opponent, he executed a bind—feigning the motion of hooking and pulling sword against sword—and struck with the false edge.

Ragna stared intently at his Squad Leader without answering.

A lowest-grade soldier of the Naurilia Kingdom.

Ragna knew that the troublemaker Squad Leader's skills weren't at a level that should remain merely lowest-grade.

But even so, he couldn't be called a high-level swordsman or warrior either.

Even if he jumped into the mercenary industry right now, he would be slightly better than average at best.

For a mid-level mercenary, that couldn't be considered outstanding skill.

Ragna had once been deeply involved in the mercenary world, so he knew the levels of mercenaries well.

When it came to the sword, he also possessed innate insight on par with a Frog.

He evaluated the Squad Leader's skills, and could also see his limits.

'It's already too late.'

His foundation was wrong.

He should have stuck to the basics from the moment he first gripped a sword. His lack of talent had robbed him of that opportunity.

How was the Squad Leader now?

It was exactly as he said.

The desperate struggle to survive, the techniques he had polished for that purpose, were holding him back.

There were only about two useful things among what the Squad Leader possessed.

What Rem, the barbarian who was an obnoxious bastard but had decent skills, had taught him.

And the thrust he had shown after his skills suddenly improved.

Aside from those two, he lacked the basics; his techniques always relied on shortcuts.

Those shortcuts were the problem.

Ragna fully exercised his insight, but instead of telling him that, he asked about what was bothering him.

"If you become good at using a sword, then what will you do then?"

Encrid stopped swinging his sword.

The sweat beaded on his forehead streamed down, gathered at the tip of his chin, and dripped onto the ground.

The sweat that fell onto the soil he stood upon quickly seeped into the earth.

The sunlight, the sword, the wind, the sky.

Embracing it all in his heart, Encrid spat out the dream he had actually repeated countless times.

"A knight. I want to become a knight who charges toward the end of the battlefield."

"Why?"

Ragna asked back. To him, it was a natural question.

Ragna could see the path.

A path where the destination was obvious even without experiencing it.

Then would that path be enjoyable?

Since he wouldn't have anything in particular to do or anything he wanted to do even if he actually reached the destination, there was no way he would have the will to walk that path.

Ragna was like that.

He was a wanderer who could see the destination and the path, but did not want to walk it, and could not walk it.

"Does there need to be a reason for wanting to become something?"

Encrid asked back.

This was his dream. His romance. It was his life and his past days.

At the same time, it was a childhood dream that had captivated him.

How many times had he repeated it to himself about his dream all this time?

There was no reason for wanting to become it.

But he had no intention of letting it end as just something he wanted to become, either.

"I want to live the way I think is right. I want to raise my sword for the poor and the sick, raise my sword for honor, and raise my sword for the people I love."

What was a knight?

Was it just a killing weapon that was good at killing and good at fighting?

Knights were often called that.

Combat weapons specialized in killing things.

But if the knight Encrid dreamed of was nothing more than that, he wouldn't have been able to swing his sword up until now.

Honor and faith; one who expressed his will with a sword.

A sword bearing chivalry, which most people no longer sought.

Encrid thought of Krang as he spoke.

Why did his words have power?

How did his words draw everyone in?

Now, he felt like he knew a little.

It was because they contained sincerity, true feelings.

That was the foundation.

So Encrid, too, spoke with all his heart.

That came as a shock to Ragna.

Of course, since he didn't show it on his face at all, Encrid didn't know.

Ragna threw a question at himself.

Why was a sword necessary if he wanted to live the way he believed was right?

Because without martial prowess, it would be difficult to realize what he believed in.

Emptiness had always lingered inside his chest.

That was the cause of his helplessness.

But now, while talking with Encrid, a different flame flared up in his heart instead of helplessness.

Harboring the flame that began to bloom in his chest, Ragna sank deep into thought.

He sat down entirely on a patch of grass on one side of the plains.

What a knight was, and what a sword was.

His thoughts bit their own tails in succession until he reached a conclusion.

'I won't be able to know without walking the path.'

He found the justification to walk the path.

Encrid left him be and swung his sword again.

Only the sword, the sky, and the wind passed through the silence.

Because they were a bit far away, the clamor of the soldiers in the encampment could be heard from one side, but other than that, it was quiet.

The silence was not long.

"Do you want to learn the sword?"

Ragna opened his mouth with a blank gaze, looking at a sharp stone embedded in the ground on one side.

SWISH!

Sweat scattered into the air along with his forward thrust.

Encrid stopped just like that. Catching his breath, keeping his gaze on the tip of the sword, he replied.

"Yeah."

It was a plain and calm tone.

If there was an opportunity to learn, he wouldn't miss it. To Encrid, it was a given.

Ragna spoke, and was surprised by what he had just said.

'Why did I do that?'

But he soon realized the reason.

Half of it was the desire to show the right path to the Squad Leader who was struggling so desperately.

The other half was for himself.

'When the Squad Leader is by my side.'

He ended up moving with all his might without even realizing it.

Seeing how Encrid lived stimulated him.

Ragna needed a stimulus. A stimulus that would make him walk the long and boring path.

The Squad Leader's presence was a stimulus to him.

If he was there, he ended up training, even if clumsily.

The moment he saw him improve, an unprecedented vitality surged within him.

He had sparred with the Squad Leader, had tried to go on reconnaissance in his place, and had even warmed up his body through Rem.

It was a rare thing.

At least, it was for Ragna himself.

Then what would happen if he taught the Squad Leader?

It was an action closer to selfishness than altruism.

And Encrid didn't worry about the reasons.

'Why is he being like this?'

He hadn't even stepped up to ask for anything, yet Ragna was willingly stepping up to teach him the sword.

Learning the Heart of a Beast had only been possible because he had pestered Rem.

And what about when he learned things from Jaxon?

All of it had happened because he had pushed himself forward first.

But it was different this time.

He had stared at him for a few days, then approached him out of the blue, threw out a few questions, and now said he would teach him the sword.

He felt it was a good opportunity.

Therefore, he didn't want to ask for the reason.

Even when they sparred, Ragna had kept his mouth shut about swordsmanship, aside from the exact movements needed at the time.

When it came to the sword, Encrid was like a starving jackal.

He had asked countless times during their spars and lunged at him for more, but Ragna had evaded answering.

But now, he was abruptly saying he would teach him.

"Then, first of all."

Ragna brushed off his backside and stood up, then mumbled his lips.

He seemed to be choosing his words.

Encrid calmly waited with the tip of his sword dropped downward.

While waiting, the words Rem had said came to his mind.

["Me teaching the sword is a bit, you know."]

Rem was good at using the sword as well as the axe. Encrid had seen him cleanly slice and deeply stab enemies with a sword countless times.

["I just swing purely on instinct, and this isn't something that can just be taught. So you're better off learning it more systematically, Squad Leader."]

It didn't seem like he was saying that because he really hated teaching. It didn't seem like he was doing it because he was stingy with his techniques, either.

If that were the case, he wouldn't have taught him the Heart of a Beast, either.

At the time, he had just accepted it and moved on.

Leaving the deep-in-thought Encrid be, Ragna spoke.

"That beast's guts, or conscience, or whatever it is you learned from that barbarian bastard."

... It was the Heart of a Beast. How did that become a beast's guts?

If Rem had heard him, it felt like he would have swung his axe right away.

"And your one thrust."

Ragna continued, then looked straight into Encrid's eyes.

"Other than those, it seems you'll have to rebuild from the ground up, will you be okay with that?"

Encrid, unable to understand for a moment, tilted his head.

"I'm saying you have to lay the foundation all over again, can you do that?"

Ragna knew no other method of teaching and learning the sword.

Encrid found it hard to accept for a moment.

"Why?"

Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

No matter what others said, he thought it was an excellent technique and sword style.

"Because if you keep using that mercenary sword, you won't be able to get any better than you are now."

Afterward, Ragna continued his explanation.

His examples were crude and his explanation wasn't clear, but Encrid understood right away.

There was one core point.

His current state had a clear limit.

He could still advance even if he trained the way he was now.

But the speed would be slow, and he wouldn't be able to surpass his limit.

When he asked for the reason, Ragna said it was because he had learned too many miscellaneous things.

"The point is that you lack the basics."

He hadn't expected to hear such words.

Even when he took silver or gold coins to find a training hall somewhere, they always emphasized the importance of the basics, so he had accepted it and invested quite a bit of time into them.

Thinking carefully, it made sense that he would hear something like this.

He was in a position where he paid money to learn every time.

To Encrid, he couldn't just spend that time laying the foundation.

So until now, he had practiced the slashing and thrusting that were considered the basics on his own.

That was the problem.

A brief realization came to him. A momentary wave of ecstasy found Encrid and made his entire body tremble.

The hand holding his sword shook and trembled.

Because he could see the path.

Beyond the wall and the darkness that always blocked his vision, a path—however crude—had opened up.

The ecstasy of this moment could not be traded for any other profound emotion in his life.

Since his hand was shaking like that, Ragna spoke in a cautious tone.

"Now you just have to choose. Whether you will rebuild, or be satisfied with the present."

Ragna thought Encrid would give up.

Discarding what he had built up so far and rebuilding meant climbing up from the rock bottom all over again.

Then his skills, which were roughly mid-to-upper tier in the mercenary world, would drop back down to a low-grade level.

Would he be able to endure that?

And a person who made his living by the sword right in the middle of a battlefield, at that?

It might be different if he had multiple lives.

Even if he wanted to do it, it wouldn't be easy.

When the moment of death actually approached, the techniques his body was accustomed to would come out.

"You'll have to risk a few lives on it."

Ragna said. It was blunt, but his tone contained worry.

Encrid nodded his head.

Its meaning was ambiguous, so when Ragna questioned him with his eyes, Encrid finally opened his mouth.

"I'll just rebuild."

"Are you serious?"

It was an answer that surprised Ragna instead.

Because there didn't seem to be a single inch of hesitation in his answer.

Even though his hands had been violently trembling just a moment ago.

He had thought that was out of anger, frustration, and despair.

Encrid's reaction was the exact opposite.

"Yeah."

He was purely delighted.