Chapter 6 - His Grip Should Have Been Torn

The repeating today.

Encrid spent every single one of those days meaningfully.

He hadn't wasted a single day.

'I'm mediocre.'

When it came to swordsmanship, he couldn't be called talented or gifted.

And he certainly wasn't a genius.

After his eighth failure, Encrid had a thought.

'I tried to finish the meal with a single swing of my fork.'

He did that despite not being talented or gifted, let alone a genius.

Encrid divided up the things he needed to do.

'I'll take it a quarter step at a time.'

There was no room for boredom. A repeating today, and his skills improving alongside it.

It was like a drug. Encrid couldn't be happier with this situation.

'There are a lot of good points.'

The best part, above all else, was that he could endlessly experience real combat.

And a rich experience at that, paid for with his life.

Encrid fully utilized that fact, and until he set out for the battlefield, he used his days productively.

Training the Heart of a Beast.

Learning swordsmanship anew.

Along with that, the repeating time allowed him to memorize the events happening around him.

The gambling den in the next barracks that popped up along with breakfast was a good example.

"You motherfucker! You cheated, didn't you?"

"Cheated my ass, you bastard. I'm just lucky."

It was a heartwarming morning sight.

It wasn't cheating. He knew because he had seen it several times. The dice always landed on the same numbers, and Encrid knew that.

He brushed past it and spent the day again. He repeated it.

The repeated real combat expanded Encrid's perspective. To be exact, his breadth of thought expanded because he had plenty of time to think.

'I don't necessarily have to deflect the arrow to save Bell.'

That was something only a first-rate mercenary could do.

Encrid gave up on that cleanly, and by doing so, he was able to save Bell.

THWACK!

He just needed to get a sturdier shield.

The arrow pierced into the round shield. No matter how skilled an archer was, they couldn't skewer the head of a soldier hiding behind a shield.

"... Where did you pop out from?"

Bell, who had fallen on his ass, asked with wide eyes.

"How long are you going to roll around on the ground? Hurry up and get on your feet."

Encrid roughly wiped his flowing sweat with the back of his hand, then kicked Bell's ass with his foot.

Rubbing his ass, Bell headed out to the battlefield once again.

'Will I be able to see that bastard's face tomorrow just because I save him here?'

He didn't know. He just made this his first checkpoint.

Weaving through the battlefield and saving Bell, that was the small goal Encrid had set.

He achieved that on his twenty-fifth 'today'.

"Oh boy. Mother of the monastery has arrived. Save me too if you have the time. Instead of saving some deadbeat from another unit."

Rem suddenly popping out from behind and spouting bullshit was a daily occurrence.

Every time he saved Bell, he would spout crazy nonsense with a different repertoire.

Whenever that happened, Encrid would shoot back at him.

Mother was a term used to refer to the nun in charge of a monastery.

"You are excommunicated. You're too ugly."

Monasteries didn't accept anyone unless they were a believer(信者). Excommunication meant leaving Mother's embrace, or in other words, getting kicked out of the monastery.

It was quite a high-level joke to make with Rem.

"What a dirty world, discriminating based on looks, *spit*."

As always, Rem ran forward undeterred.

He was off to hunt down that guy called The Hawk or whatever; Encrid knew without being told.

Even after repeating the day about fifty times, Encrid couldn't beat the thrusting enemy soldier.

There were times he luckily blocked the attacks a few times, but in that moment, his head was blown off by a bastard who popped out from the side swinging a hammer.

"There's no need to drag this out."

The bastard who smashed Encrid's head in said that.

Encrid didn't even know how he was hit. His vision just suddenly spun and the ground rushed up to meet him.

He didn't even have the presence of mind to shake his head. He just felt a sticky liquid flowing down his face.

By the time he recovered his senses even a little, he only realized that he had dropped his sword and was kneeling.

"That must be painful, this is mercy."

A blade immediately pierced his neck, forcing him to flail in pain.

The blade dug into his neck. A pain he could never get used to coursed through his entire body.

A pain like a heated iron skewer ravaging his neck ravaged his brain.

As he died, Encrid blinked his eyes. The world was dyed red because of the blood that had gotten into his eyes.

Beyond that red-dyed vision, he saw the red eyes of the enemy soldier holding the sword through the gaps in his helmet.

They probably weren't actually red, but that was how they looked back then.

A shallow thrill of joy lingered in the enemy soldier's eyes.

Having died so much, he was starting to see all sorts of things.

It was probably thanks to his trained Heart of a Beast.

'What a perverted bastard.'

His goal wasn't to grant mercy; he killed like that because he felt a thrill from killing.

The bastard always shoved the blade into his neck and slowly pulled it out.

He might even have been getting an erection feeling someone else's last breath scatter through the sword.

Even after realizing that, Encrid remained calm.

Having crossed the moment of death countless times, a sense of boldness naturally settled in. It was only natural.

And then.

"Are you having a secret rendezvous behind my back somewhere?"

On the eighty-sixth time, Rem said out of the blue.

At Rem's words, Encrid furrowed his brows.

What kind of bullshit was this?

"What?"

"The Heart of a Beast, you learned it from me. But there's no way you could train it this much all by yourself."

The axe blade was stopped barely a finger's joint away from his eyeball.

If it had come even a little closer, the wind pressure alone would have damaged his cornea.

Because of that, Encrid could only see half of Rem's face beyond the well-sharpened axe blade in his vision.

But even in this moment, his breathing didn't falter at all.

It was the power brought by the Heart of a Beast, and.

The boldness that allowed him to endure, even knowing the pain was coming.

Encrid looked at Rem's questioning eyes beyond the axe blade and thought.

'So something like this can happen too.'

His Heart of a Beast had been trained by repeating today, so it might be an absurd thing for the very person who taught him.

The reason he only realized this now was also because Rem was normally the type of squad member who didn't look back or forward.

Rem might spout a lot of useless chatter, but he wasn't the type of squad member to nitpick.

But the Heart of a Beast would be a different story.

Because it was something he had taught him personally.

Encrid didn't make any pathetic excuses.

There was no need to do so.

Because he could just think about it all throughout today, and then fix it in the today that started anew.

*Tuk*, Rem pulled his axe back. Encrid's vision opened up.

Not even a scratch was left on his face.

Rem handled the heavy axe like it was his own hand.

Having pulled the axe back, Rem scratched his head with the end of the axe handle.

"It just doesn't make sense to me, I was wondering if maybe you learned more from someone else."

Even as he said it, he had a face that wondered if it even made sense.

Encrid was the Squad Leader of Squad 444, and this goddamn squad was a gathering of blockheads who wouldn't listen at all without him.

Since learning the Heart of a Beast from Rem, Encrid had never left this squad.

Therefore, even if he wanted to learn, he wouldn't have had the time.

Rem had watched that Encrid the whole time.

It might be possible if he had secretly learned it while standing night watch or something.

But that also didn't make any sense.

"Your sword skills are at the level where if you dropped dead this afternoon, people would just say, 'Ah, figures,' so how could only the skin of your heart have gotten so thick?"

Watch your mouth, you bastard.

He would indeed drop dead this afternoon. Rem had said it without knowing anything, but it felt like there were bones hidden in his words.

"Because I've crossed the brink of death about eighty times."

Answering vaguely, Encrid thought to himself.

That he wouldn't be able to learn any more of the Heart of a Beast from Rem.

No excuse could perfectly resolve the doubts of that barbarian-born man right now.

'I can't exactly say that I learned from you every day as today repeated, and that it ended up like this because I learned while dying on top of that.'

But he could probably gloss over it.

Because Rem wasn't that meticulous of a man.

And indeed, he was right. There was no need to even spend time on it.

"Let's say that's the case. They say the Goddess of Fortune sometimes drops her coins without realizing it."

It was a common saying for a soldier who survived through a series of unexpected coincidences.

Did that also apply when learning a secret art like this?

What did it matter if it didn't?

It was enough that Rem had let it go.

"Thanks to that, it's more fun than before. Your skills have improved a bit. What the hell have you been doing secretly?"

"Something that hurts like death."

Encrid didn't lie.

"Yeah, a man should have some secrets. That's what makes him manly. I get it."

Rem didn't even care about this. Just like before, he only said what he wanted to say and raised his axe.

"One more round?"

Rem said, holding his axe.

Encrid raised his sword without a word.

If his first goal was saving the soldier Bell who would fall on his ass.

His second, and final goal, was the one who felt a thrill every time he killed someone.

Killing the Stabbing Pervert.

The preparations for that were steady.

And so came the one hundred and eleventh day, during his sparring session with Rem.

Encrid pulled his arm back, bulging his muscles.

He stretched his left foot forward, trying to step on Rem's foot.

Rem quickly noticed and pulled his foot back, and seeing that, Encrid used his left foot, which stepped on the ground instead of Rem's foot, as a pivot to twist his waist and thrust his sword with all his might.

The foot was a feint.

It was a move aimed at Rem backing away.

He tensed his muscles and thrust his sword.

In that fleeting moment, Encrid's eyes saw Rem's arm bend like a whip.

It was such an unrealistic sight that even the axe in his hand seemed to bend.

CLANG!

It happened in an instant.

The axe blade bent and then shot upward like lightning.

And it directly struck the sword Encrid was holding.

The sword flew upward.

Slipping out of Encrid's hand, the soaring sword spun in the air before falling to the ground with a *clack*.

It was the sound of the flat of the blade accidentally hitting a stone embedded in the ground.

He watched the sword roll across the ground.

"Let me see."

Rem stepped up abruptly and grabbed Encrid's wrist.

His hand trembled from the impact of losing the sword. Rem looked at Encrid's hand, clicked his tongue with a *tsk*, and spoke.

"This should be bleeding a bit."

"What?"

He should have controlled his strength, what kind of thing was that to say after swinging an axe so ignorantly?

"That thrust was okay, it was okay, but, you know, it's lacking a bit. I'm not good at explaining this, but just now, your grip should have been torn. Instead of you dropping the sword."

"I shouldn't let go of my sword even if I die?"

Encrid raised the end of his sentence while his right hand was held. It was something he had heard countless times from his sword instructors.

Counting the day that repeated every day was an exhausting task.

Encrid remembered it by slightly changing the start of his day.

His memory had been exceptional since he was young, anyway.

Up until now, that memory hadn't been of much help to his swordsmanship.

Of course, now it was helpful.

Especially when he recalled what he had learned from his instructors.

He had said that just now by ruminating on those teachings.

"What kind of bullshit is that? If you have to, you even throw your sword at the opponent's face. This, ugh, alright. Let's make this a bit easier. Your thrust just now, where were you aiming?"

Rem snorted as he said that.

Encrid couldn't answer easily.

This thrust was his hidden trump card.

Because it was a technique he had stolen and learned after getting stabbed in the neck over a hundred times by the enemy soldier.

From the overall stance, the position of the feet, the shift in center of gravity when using the sword, the movement of the muscles, the direction of the toes, right down to the shape of the hand holding the sword.

He had stolen everything and mimicked it.

"Your strike just now, it looked plausible on the outside, but, well, goddammit. It's fucking hard to explain. Here, look at this."

Rem let his axe drop downward and drew a large circle on the dirt ground.

It was roughly the size of a person's head.

"Let's say our destination is somewhere around here."

Saying that, Rem circled his axe over the circle before making a dot with a *stab*.

"But the truth is, we're going here."

At first, Encrid wondered what this meant.

But perhaps the time he spent learning from his sword instructors wasn't in vain.

Despite the dog-shit explanation, he understood it perfectly, like pickled fruit wrapping around the tongue.

'The focal point.'

What had been imbued in the thrust he had just unleashed?

Did he want to be praised for doing well?

Since he mimicked it well, did he want to be acknowledged as having even an ant's speck of talent?

What was the main point?

What was a sword meant for?

To cut and thrust at the opponent; it was a lethal weapon.

Among those, thrusting was the foundation of swordsmanship, aiming for a single point.

It was especially used a lot in rapier fencing.

He had heard there were knights who used thin blades designed to pierce the gaps in armor as their main weapon.

"I really can't explain this any better. You dropped your sword so easily because you thought I would naturally dodge or block it. But that thrust from before should have been certain. Exactly, I will stab you. You cannot dodge. You needed to show that with absolute conviction."

Even after saying that, Rem was mulling over whether he had explained it properly.

Since he was a guy who moved at his own pace, he was terrible at explaining things.

However, if the listener roughly understood, then this explanation that sounded like the neighbor's dog barking could also be called excellent.

Therefore, to Encrid, it was an excellent explanation.

'Because there was no conviction in my sword.'

The thrust from earlier was the thrust of a third-rate mercenary.

On the one hundred and eleventh day, Encrid realized this.

Up until the one hundred and twenty-third day, he executed his thrusts with full power.

On the one hundred and twenty-fourth day, his grip was torn by Rem's lightning-like axe strike.

It wasn't just torn; it burst open.

Blood dripped down from his grip.

Encrid looked at it and laughed.

Because he had achieved what he desired.

"Have you completely lost your mind now? Do you know there's no one more dangerous on the battlefield than a crazy ally? No, why do you keep fucking laughing?"

Seeing that, Rem showed a rare look of panic, but Encrid couldn't hold back the laughter spilling out.

"Fuck, stop laughing. You look like a crazy bastard."

Rem said upon seeing that.

It was what happened on the one hundred and twenty-fourth 'today'.