Chapter 83 - Heat

As the Boatswain of the Black River had said, Encrid's daily life was similar to repeating today.

They were days filled exclusively with training.

"Control, control, I said control."

The sparring with Rem focused on Encrid perfectly handling his own body and sword.

The bloodlust that occasionally sent chills down his spine was a trick performed by the gaze of Jaxon, who was hiding somewhere and glaring at him.

Jaxon had a knack for making a person's body dry up just by looking at them.

It felt like he would die if he let his guard down even a little.

In reality, Jaxon hadn't done anything, but making him think that way just with his gaze was truly maddening.

Finding Jaxon, who constantly radiated bloodlust like this, was also part of the training.

He tried to expand the boundaries of his hearing and five senses to do so, but he failed every time.

The concept of the 'Sixth Sense' didn't resonate with Encrid.

"It won't come easily."

Jaxon honestly and stubbornly repeated the same actions.

Encrid began to lose weight.

It was an incredibly difficult training to endure, but.

Even so, he never told him to stop.

"Knock it off. You sneaky stray cat. You're really annoying."

"A mere barbarian felt my bloodlust? I must have lacked subtlety."

"You leaked it on purpose, yet you sure talk a big game. Axe, where did my axe go, my aaaaxe that's gonna split open that stray cat's skuuuull."

Watching the emaciated Encrid, Rem threw in a word on his behalf, and naturally, an argument followed.

Then, Encrid would stop Rem, who was singing a tune while looking for his axe.

"I'm doing this because I want to."

"Bullshit. I'm telling you to take it easy, take it easy."

For someone telling him to 'take it easy,' there wasn't a day where the bruises on Encrid's body faded.

It was thanks to getting beaten by Rem's fists and axe.

Rem didn't know how to take it easy either.

Encrid wondered if it was really Rem's place to say that, but he didn't tell Rem to stop either.

What would have happened if he hadn't trained his body with the isolation technique?

He probably wouldn't have been able to endure like this.

Audin asked whenever he had the chance.

"You can rest if it's too hard, Brother."

This bastard was definitely a priest of a devil, not a god.

Rest if it's hard. You can stop. He lived with these words on his lips, but.

That was actually a devil's whisper.

"Should I?"

If he said that.

"It seems we need to train your mental strength as well."

He would say that and rush at him in a hurry.

"Mental strength stems from physical power. This is a secret, but I'll only tell you, Brother. In truth, mental strength comes from the muscles."

Just a single word uttered as a joke would undoubtedly increase the weight he had to lift that day, and the isolation technique and wrestling would become even more extreme.

The crazy priest bastard had a hobby of tormenting people by imitating a devil.

Even so, it wasn't like he was dissatisfied with this either.

Sometimes, very rarely.

Whenever it was so grueling that he thought about taking a break, the devil's whisper Audin spat out served to awaken Encrid's mind.

"I want to rest a bit today."

Knowing how Audin would react, he sometimes said this on purpose.

Then, Audin would show a broad smile and say.

"It seems you had it easy."

It was a process of knowing it was a provocation and preparing corresponding training to cram into Encrid's body.

Grueling and exhausting.

No one would say this wasn't arduous.

However, the results of his training were piling up in his body more steadily than ever before.

It was the same that he still couldn't block Rem's axe when it flashed like a beam of light.

He could block two out of three whip-like axe swings without losing his balance.

During sparring with Ragna, his ability to read moves had improved.

If he had previously been busy just looking one step ahead, his means of stringing together several feints to make the opponent move according to his intentions had grown sharper.

Ragna and Rem were distinctly different opponents, but both were helpful to Encrid.

Though sensing Jaxon's bloodlust was still completely blocked.

'The Sixth Sense, huh.'

How many times had he repeated the process of getting goosebumps all over his body?

A chill ran through him at the thought of having to endure that gaze, that bloodlust, anytime and anywhere. It was terrible.

Just as much as dying and repeating today.

He had met assassins twice so far. Both times he had to repeat today, but he had never felt this level of bloodlust.

Didn't they say a well-trained assassin actually showed no bloodlust at all?

Encrid recalled the assassins he had met.

The first was at the Medical Barracks.

'I heard sounds rather than feeling bloodlust.'

Was that guy a clumsy one?

The second, when facing the Half Fairy throwing the Whistle Daggers, he tried not to miss a single movement, even the twitch of a fingertip. He had to glare with his eyes wide open.

Both were far from utilizing the Sixth Sense.

Before he knew it, the severe cold of winter, the end of the four seasons, began to quietly bow its head.

It couldn't be called warm yet, but the weather seemed to be gradually thawing.

If rain fell at a time when it should snow, that would now become spring rain and serve as a signal to announce the start of a new year.

Still, the cold would remain for a while.

This region was originally like that. It was a place with long periods of cold.

Thinking of assassins naturally brought him to a certain thought.

'They said they were persistent, so are they not coming anymore?'

The special unit Aspen boasted, the Gray Hounds, were dreadful bastards.

Hadn't he experienced it firsthand?

'To think they'd send an assassin just to catch a single soldier.'

He was keeping it in mind, but there were no signs of an attack.

To be honest, he wondered if he could even react if someone targeted him right now.

Because he was too busy suffering under Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon.

'It'll work out somehow.'

Right now probably wasn't the time to worry about whether they were Gray Hounds or gray cats.

'It's a gift for my tomorrow's self.'

The time poured into his body today, and the resulting training, were always a gift.

Because his tomorrow's self would accept today's pain with joy.

* * *

Mitch Hurrier blew away the winter chill in the middle of the training ground.

Steam rose from his entire body as he moved and swung his sword. Mitch forgot about the cold.

He only pictured his sword, himself, and his opponent.

He swung and swung again.

As soon as he rose from his sickbed and recovered his body, Mitch Hurrier acted like a man crazy for the sword.

It was a wooden training sword with a thickened blade to add weight.

The sword drew several lines in the air before coming to a halt with its tip pointed at an angle, as if to pierce the sky.

After that, veins bulged on Mitch's arm muscles, and the tip of the sword cleaved the air.

SWOOSH.

From top to bottom.

It was a sword strike that would give goosebumps to anyone with a decent eye for swordsmanship.

The sword drew a line perpendicular to the ground, creating a perfect straight line without the tip wavering even a little.

The fact that he could produce such a strike after swinging a sword three times heavier than a standard longsword for hours was astonishing in itself.

Mitch Hurrier became a tree growing by using defeat as nourishment.

'So you shouldn't die like that.'

While he lay in his sickbed, he heard they had sent an assassin after the guy who knocked him down.

How annoying it was to hear that.

But the assassination failed.

That made Mitch happy.

'You have to die by my hands.'

And on the battlefield, at that.

Ever since losing to the soldier named Encrid, surpassing him had become the reason Mitch Hurrier lived, and the goal of his life.

"It looks good, but it also looks bad."

His father severely scolded him for this. Having become a madman running wild for the sword, he surely wasn't the family member the head of the family desired.

But what did that matter?

It was far better than selling out the Gray Hounds' name to send assassins for the sake of the family's honor.

'My way is much sounder.'

Mitch smiled.

Anticipating and looking forward to the day he would meet the opponent who stabbed him on the battlefield.

And that probably wasn't a vain delusion.

Because Aspen was gathering an army on a massive scale, keeping in mind what they suffered at the hands of the opposing knight order on the previous battlefield.

'Let's meet on the battlefield.'

The opponent's face remained clearly in his memory. He wouldn't be able to forget it for the rest of his life.

Because that was the first time he had lost like that.

Thanks to that, for the first time in his life, he became a training addict who never left the training grounds.

They were originally going to send more assassins, but the commander of the Gray Hound company stopped it after seeing Mitch's condition.

"If you meet him again, you can catch him, right?"

"I will meet him. And I will kill him."

After hearing Mitch's answer, the commander buried the assassin issue. It meant there would be no reason to send anything else to that soldier again.

* * *

"Let me take back what I said about you changing. I think that's right."

Rem said. This was after their back-and-forth sparring had ended.

"Looks like you're in a slump."

The foul-mouthed barbarian rarely spat such venomous remarks at Encrid.

"Is it a habit of yours to stop right when it seems like your skills are improving?"

Encrid didn't bother arguing with that statement.

Because it wasn't hard to understand why he was acting like that.

It was originally like that. Growth that stopped right around the time the teacher showed passion.

From the perspective of an onlooker, it could be frustrating.

It wasn't just Rem either.

"It's surprising how poorly you apply techniques. Even though you attached the basics to your body so quickly. When someone's skills improve in a short period, we usually say they have talent, but, how should I put it, it feels like you're just stubbornly keeping up, Squad Leader. Your skills definitely improved in a short time, though."

Ragna could be sharp at times.

Regardless, he too uttered the same words as Rem.

Audin was similar.

"Brother, training is the only way to make your body move as you intend. It works if you repeat it. I mean, that's usually how it is, but, hmm, you are a bit slow, Brother Squad Leader."

A long-winded way to say he was just marching in place.

Jaxon didn't say much of anything.

Because from the very beginning, Encrid hadn't been able to grasp the slightest clue about whether the Sixth Sense was a door or a hole.

It was the morning training time. The standing forces were fundamentally people whose profession was to train their bodies.

They weren't professional soldiers for nothing.

This was a place where everyone trained their bodies like that.

Taking up the middle of the long corridor and dedicating himself to training, Rem suddenly stopped his hands.

"Let's stop here for today."

"Sure."

Rem left Encrid and stepped inside the quarters.

He hadn't given up. He didn't have such a thought in the slightest.

It was just that what was needed right now wasn't simple sparring.

"Real combat."

At his muttering upon entering the quarters.

Esther subtly lifted her head and looked at him.

The eyes of the rest of the squadmates also swept past Rem.

Soon, Ragna, Audin, Rem, and Jaxon reached a consensus for the first time since joining the squad.

Following that, as Encrid walked inside, Jaxon grabbed his arm and said.

"Take a request."

"Huh?"

"It's the point where real combat is needed. It'd be great if we could just toss you onto some battlefield and see if you survive, but well, that's not something we can do right now."

Rem added.

Everyone seemed to share the same opinion. Encrid was newly surprised by their attitude.

'I knew they wouldn't give up, but.'

He didn't know they would unite to talk about something like this.

The fact that the lazy Ragna was actively stepping forward was fascinating enough.

The four of them had become of one mind and one purpose.

It was a scene Encrid thought he would never see even in his dreams.

"Meow."

Encrid said as he picked up the panther.

"I was actually thinking the same thing."

It didn't mean he was going to throw his life away to repeat today.

However, Encrid had always tempered his body and swung his sword in battlefields and real combat.

If he had trained and conditioned himself, it was only natural to want to test his skills.

Those completely packed with talent would easily brush off something like a plateau and get back up, but.

Because he didn't have such talent.

He just had to learn what he lacked by rolling his body around.

'If I'm blocked and stuck.'

He just had to do something. As he always did, whether he struggled or danced, Encrid would grasp at straws.

That was the way he had lived.

"Go out to take a request starting tomorrow morning. It'd be nice if there was a monster subjugation or something."

"I think they said there was one."

Encrid had already looked into it as well.

"You already had something in mind."

Jaxon said. Encrid replied while scratching Esther's head with his fingertips.

"Yeah."

Hadn't Jaxon said it countless times?

What is the Sixth Sense?

To open it, one had to peek into the realm of instinct.

Was it possible to perceive something with an unseen sense rather than the five senses?

"It's possible. However, it's not a truly invisible sense. When a beast hunts its prey or sprints, where do you think that intuition, which judges within seconds, comes from? What about the sense herbivores use to avoid predators?"

That was Jaxon's definition of the Sixth Sense.

Human senses aren't just seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching.

Sense of balance, spatial awareness, kinesthesia, temperature perception, and more.

The human body was made up of various senses.

If he repeatedly fought with every sense he possessed sharpened like a blade.

He would naturally learn how to read, predict, and react to bloodlust from the realm of instinct.

He said that once that time came, he would be able to dodge even if a blade flew at the back of his head.

"Anyone around the level of a knight can do it. Actual knights undergo this kind of training too."

Encrid felt a rough kind of consideration in the words Jaxon added at the end.

It was out of character for him, yet it was also a very Jaxon-like consideration.

"Got it."

It was also a knight's training. So don't give up.

He had even received encouragement.

Since he had used a beast as an example, he intended to try encountering a similar monster.

A monster's instinct would also be similar to that.

And the bloodlust they emitted would be even more raw than Jaxon's.

Of course, not everything went according to Encrid's thoughts.

* * *

"A request? Then handle this one first. We have too few people on our end."

The next morning, as he was immediately looking for a monster subjugation request, a Squad Leader from the neighboring platoon abruptly squeezed in and made a request.

It was a request from a Shoemaker to investigate strange noises that happened every night in his Shoemaker's Store.

He said it seemed like some undead-type monster was living underneath.

"If something like that was inside the city, it would have already caused an uproar long ago."

"I know that too. But what can you do? Finishing a request counts as an achievement, so it's a good thing. Let's just knock it out quickly. Help me out if you have the time. I, uh, even sewed you up for you back then."

Right. It was that Squad Leader from back then. That guy who had stitched him up when he surpassed his first repeating today, the Squad Leader who loved alcohol.

In the end, he nodded his head.

After agreeing, he thought he would just relieve the Shoemaker's anxiety and leave. What kind of monster would come out from under his store's floorboards?

As he stopped by his quarters and got ready.

"You aren't going on the monster subjugation request?"

Jaxon dropped the honorifics at the end of his sentence out of habit.

"Yeah, after I go do this."

He had stated that he would go do the monster request too.

It seemed he could just go right after finishing this.

This real combat would be helpful in many ways.

'My sword, senses, heart, and the way I use my body.'

He felt like he would grasp something if he cut down some monsters.

That was how he arrived at the Shoemaker's house.

"Here, look. When I finally peeled up the floor, this thing was here!"

The Shoemaker was agitated. Encrid was surprised too. There was a hole dug into the basement of the Shoemaker's house.

An artificial tunnel could be seen inside.

"Hold on, I'll go take a look first."

He listened closely inside, but there was no sound at all.

Encrid spoke and thrust his foot into the hole the Shoemaker had dug.

'I'll need a torch.'

It wasn't complete darkness. Thanks to the light seeping in through the opened hole, he could see ahead a little.

It was a slanted ramp. Going down wasn't difficult.

Stepping inside and walking forward a bit, he felt like he was walking through a dungeon made by a magician or monsters.

He hadn't even taken many steps.

Because the light of the candle lit from above was still seeping in behind his back.

That was how he encountered the Six Paths.

"What kind of crazy bastard made this?"

A mutter escaped his lips involuntarily. No matter how he looked at it, it reeked of artificiality.

Encrid stepped into the first passage on the left among the six.

There was no sign of anything. He walked a few more steps and went inside.

Crunch, crunch.

Besides the sound of the wind passing through the passage, there was no sign of anyone or any other sound.

However.

HUMMM.

Soon, a very faint vibrating sound was heard, and.

Encrid saw a flash of light erupting right before his eyes.

BOOM!

An explosion rang out, and it felt like hot iron skewers entered his lungs and tore through his internal organs.

Then his memories cut off, and morning dawned once again.

Naturally, Encrid knew why this had happened.

'I died.'

The last sensation left in his body was heat.

That is, the scalding heat.

Now it was time to figure out exactly how he died.