Chapter 87 - Those Who Deserve to Die Must Be Killed

"It is the method of reading moves and countering."

While getting beaten by Rem.

While hearing about the Sixth Sense from Jaxon.

While squeezing his body to its limits with Audin and the isolation technique.

He also faithfully learned swordsmanship from Ragna.

Regardless of whether his skills were improving, he was truly consistent.

"Aren't you frustrated?"

Ragna would often ask Encrid this.

Frustrated? There was no reason to be.

Ragna's teachings were the path and milestone toward what came after learning the fundamentals.

How long had the days of wandering without knowing the path been?

Now that he could see another path immediately after taking a single step, it was simply a joy.

How should one react when the opponent strikes down with a sword?

What if the opponent was a beast?

What if someone suddenly thrust a spear from behind?

In what situations and how should one extend their sword?

Once the fundamentals were in place, what needed to be acquired next was the method of application.

One couldn't respond to every single situation. This was similar. The point was to grasp the knack for it.

Naturally, there was no way it would be easy.

"I thought this would be over a bit quicker."

Ragna said so, but.

Not a chance. Encrid knew his own talent was dreadful.

Would he have struggled this much if his talent was even average?

Probably not.

Even so, he didn't harbor any resentment. He would rather swing his sword one more time in that time.

"The application of swordsmanship only has meaning when you read the opponent's moves and counter."

Whether the opponent was a beast, a monster, or an enemy soldier, all he had to do was watch their movements, distinguish the feints from the real attacks, and then cut or stab with his sword.

Ragna taught tirelessly.

Encrid also did not tire, but his progress was endlessly slow.

He knew he was slow and lacking. He also knew he had to put in several times more effort than others.

Therefore.

Everything around him, every situation, the environment, even any brief moment given to him.

He merely used it all as a tool for growth.

That was what Encrid did.

On the path advancing through the tunnel.

Four wolf beasts sprang out.

BARK! BARK!

The bastards barking like dogs lunged without giving him a moment to breathe.

*THUD, THUD! * The dynamic wolf beasts charging forward as they kicked up the dirt on the floor were enough to make one's knees buckle just by looking at them.

Eyes filled with the ferocity of a wild beast, drooling snouts with protruding tongues—their yellow teeth glowed red under the torchlight.

'Heart of a Beast.'

Boldness—thanks to that, he could keep from batting an eye even if a blade was thrust right under his nose.

It was the same now.

Encrid remained calm. In the time it took to catch his breath a few times, the wolf beasts had closed in to just a few steps away.

Encrid added instinctual intuition to his sword-handling technique.

It was a reflexive reaction born from his boldness.

Because he believed this too would become a stepping stone for his growth, and he intended to treat it as part of his training.

'There is no training as good as a real battle.'

The only downside was that he had to risk his life every single time.

Letting today pass by meaninglessly was unacceptable.

If he had wanted a life of merely surviving day by day with just his life attached, he would have tilled fields and begged for a god's blessing instead of singing of dreams.

Even though he had decided to cherish and treasure today so much, he still had to risk his life to move forward.

Because this was the only path where Encrid could sing of his dream.

He wasn't rushing in to die; he was risking his life to survive.

Just as his intuition told him.

Following his instincts.

CLACK!

The sound of the wolf beast's teeth clashing rang out right in front of his nose.

Encrid dodged the wolf beast's bite by pulling his left foot back, then moved his elbow to strike down with his sword from above.

SMACK! YELP!

He didn't use the blade, but smacked it with the flat of the sword. Struck on the head by the heavily weighted blow, the wolf beast crumpled to the floor.

After swinging the sword, he naturally took a step to the left.

He had tossed the torch to one side, but since it hadn't gone out, it served as a light source.

One step to the left—Encrid dodged the wolf's front paw just as he shielded the torch with his body.

With a *SWOOSH*, a heavy strike swept through the space where Encrid's stomach had just been.

If it had connected properly, a mere gambeson would have definitely been torn to shreds.

Beasts were monsters that possessed the traits of animals.

Among them, two cleverly circled around to catch his back.

Thinking they had seized an opportunity, the two bastards lunged, aiming for both of Encrid's thighs with snouts that looked like rows of closely packed short knives, twice as sharp as those of normal wolves.

FWEEEEET!

A strange noise spread through the dark tunnel illuminated by a single torch.

It all happened in an instant.

Encrid turned his body and flicked his hand, and with a *THWACK! *, a Whistle Dagger lodged itself into the forehead of one of the charging wolf beasts.

It was truly as fast as a beam of light.

Against the other one that lunged in the meantime, he pulled his thigh back to dodge and immediately thrust his knee upward, performing an evasion and a strike at the same time.

THUD.

Perhaps it wasn't a huge impact; the wolf beast that took the knee strike didn't back down.

Instead, as if showing off its leg muscles, it tried to press down on the top of Encrid's foot with its front paw.

Encrid pulled back his raised knee, taking a half-step back to dodge the front paw aiming for his foot, and stood between the two beasts blocking his front and back.

It was no different from being surrounded.

Even in a situation that could be called a crisis, Encrid's eyes were not looking at the two wolves.

Focus, and more focus.

The surroundings didn't feel slow like before.

It wasn't as if only dots and lines remained, leaving nothing else visible either.

Simply put, the wolf beasts' movements were plainly visible to his eyes.

He could picture their next moves in his head beforehand.

Since the beasts' next movements were caught in his eyes, Encrid's actions became simple.

There was no need to corner the opponents with complex feints and swings.

The lowered sword—he swung it in a wide arc.

Although it was too narrow to swing side to side, the tunnel's height was sufficient to draw a large vertical semicircle.

What kind of sword style was the Heavy Sword Technique?

He recalled what he had learned as the basics.

It was a sword style that specialized in destroying with a single strike.

BARK!

The two wolves lunged simultaneously.

Encrid executed the movement he had pictured in his head.

SWOOSH! THWACK! SLICE! CRUNCH!

The longsword swung with all his might fulfilled its role completely.

The wolf beast on the side of the sword was cleaved from its chest to its jaw and head.

The bastard caught by the downward strike that drew a semicircle had its head burst open.

If his timing had been off even a little, he would have been bitten somewhere by one of the two bastards.

That strike just now was a feat of sheer strength.

"Hoo."

Encrid soothed his heart by exhaling the breath he had been holding.

'One.'

There was one beast left.

While the remaining wolf beast faltered, Encrid suddenly dashed forward. Comically, he ran not toward the front of the wolf beast, but to its left.

As if the beast hadn't even seen it, it leaped in the exact same direction.

'Using the left foot as a pivot.'

In a state of extreme focus, exactly as dictated by his intuition, his body, and the experience condensed from his training thus far.

He stomped his left foot on the ground and extended his sword. A thrust. The perfectly straight tip of the sword pierced into the wolf's snout and broke through the back of its head.

STAB!

Along with the sound, the wolf's weight loaded onto both of his arms.

He naturally relaxed his strength, letting the wolf slump to the floor with a *THUD* as if tossing it down.

Encrid stepped on the head of the wolf, which now had a hole from its mouth to its skull, and pulled out his sword.

*SQUELCH. * The beast's red blood flowed onto the floor from where the sword was extracted. The corpse of the wolf beast trembled violently.

WHINE.

The final remaining beast's breath scattered in vain.

Leaving the dead beasts behind and letting his arms hang loose, Encrid reflected on what he had just done.

'I can see it.'

The wolf beasts' movements were simple. Movements left entirely to instinct.

Therefore, they got caught in his Sixth Sense. Concentrate on a Single Point and his instinctual Sixth Sense.

It was a series of sword strikes focused heavily on the combined sensation the two had created.

'I can do it.'

If it was now, it felt like he could demonstrate what Ragna called the sword of application.

Read the opponent's intentions and movements. After that, all that was left was to strike down with a sword honed by the fundamentals.

Deceiving the opponent was a similar principle.

"It's something you already knew how to do. This is just the process of formalizing it and ingraining it into your body."

Ragna's words suddenly came to mind again.

Right, exactly. It was what he had originally been doing.

However, doing it knowingly and doing it unknowingly had a difference as vast as that between a cat and a tiger.

Clenching and unclenching his hand, Encrid ruminated over it again and again.

Even as he picked up the torch and moved forward, he continually pictured his sword in his head.

Having it stick perfectly to one's body after just one try was the exclusive domain of the talented.

That was why he pondered and repeated it over and over.

Encrid carried on, treating everything as his training.

After that, no more monsters or beasts appeared.

Instead, at the end of the passage, he found a route connected to a sewer.

Only then did he see something other than swordsmanship.

'He's a lunatic.'

To dig a tunnel like this all the way here.

Just what kind of act was this?

Spell traps were expensive. They weren't cheap rattraps or anything.

What was the underlying motive for laying them across all six forks in the road, blocking them entirely?

It was something even a wealthy merchant with Krona to spare wouldn't easily do.

On top of that, there were Ghoul, known as man-eating demons, and beasts.

What was the reason for blocking it off to this extent? Just what in the world was waiting past this?

A part of the answer to that question became visible.

"Crazy son of a bitch."

Encrid's mouth opened of its own accord.

The place he arrived at after walking along the foul-smelling sewer line.

In the torchlight, he saw things hung all over the place like laundry.

They were made by driving nails into the wall, stringing lines between them, and draping things over them.

It wasn't clothing. It was the body parts meant to wear those clothes.

It was a horrific scene of human organs, flesh, and bones that could hardly be expressed in words.

A tragedy so gruesome that even Encrid, who had lived through his fair share of terrible sights, felt nauseous.

'Crazy bastard.'

It was a bastard he absolutely had to kill.

Because he was a bastard who deserved to die.

Wasn't killing this kind of bastard also the duty of a knight?

He knew that just dreaming didn't make him a knight.

But he couldn't just turn a blind eye after seeing something like this.

In between, there were also intact corpses that at least still had the form of a human.

One of them seemed to be alive.

It blinked its eyes a few times and opened its mouth.

"Gurgle."

It couldn't speak.

It was obvious. How could a human with nothing left but a head speak?

The very fact that it was opening its eyes and trying to speak in that state was simply grotesque.

"Gurgle, gurgle."

What did it want to say?

It was hard to even guess.

If it were Encrid himself, he thought he would be begging for death.

He couldn't even tell how it was moving.

Furthermore, he couldn't fathom how the string piercing the skull had been threaded through, and he didn't want to know.

Because even though he had been through all sorts of things, this tragedy was truly repulsive.

"What are you?"

A voice rang out just then. Encrid's gaze snapped toward the voice.

It was the end of the path decorated with human corpses. In the corner of the sewer, the face of the corpse-lover came into view.

It was a young man with a white, pale-looking face.

He wore a dull green robe and had long hair.

Encrid asked.

"This place... is your masterpiece, I assume?"

The man seemed to ponder for a moment before speaking, mixing in murmurs to himself.

"... How did he get all the way here? Do the gods love me? Seeing how they toss a test subject my way even when I'm just sitting still... Now, let's see. Looks like you're from the standing forces, and a well-trained body at that. Beautiful. Just beautiful."

The young man's voice was light and cheerful.

He sounded like a blacksmith who had just received high-quality iron.

He sounded like a merchant who had sealed a highly profitable deal.

In a way, he even sounded like an innocent young man calmly confessing his feelings.

It was bizarre, and then some.

"What kind of thing should I turn you into?"

Encrid raised his torch high. Beyond the flickering shadows behind the man.

A grotesque corpse stitched together from various parts came into view. It was sitting propped against the wall.

Both of its eyes were closed, and there was no sign of it breathing. In Encrid's judgment, it was a corpse.

"Lovely, isn't it? This one is going to be my absolute masterpiece. Its name is Vamilo."

Encrid reached a conclusion. In fact, there was no need to exchange any more words.

An absolutely insane son of a bitch.

Encrid hurled the torch.

*FWOOSH, FWOOSH! * The wooden torch spun rapidly, leaving a long, circular trail as it flew straight for the lunatic's head.

THUMP.

And the lunatic deflected the torch just by raising his hand.

A Spell, meaning he was a magician.

So, was that a reason for him to stop?

No. A bastard who deserved to die had to die. Encrid had thrown the torch, and even after seeing it swatted away with a single flick of the hand, he didn't stop in his tracks.

Kicking off the ground, Encrid lowered his body.

He dashed forward, keeping his body low against the sticky floor of the sewer. With a *SPLASH* as he kicked up filth, his body arrived in front of the magician with a *SWISH*.

Utilizing even the momentum of his sprint, he swung his sword. Following the blade swung from bottom to top, a Diagonal Slash cleaved through the darkness where the torch had disappeared.

* * *

Esther used to stick close mostly at night, but on days when Encrid was in the city, there were times when she prowled nearby.

Of course, there were also many days when she didn't.

'Because sticking around just at night is enough.'

And she didn't necessarily have to stick with him all the time.

A day like today was when she would normally just stick around inside the barracks and pass the time.

Mrow.

'Have a good trip.'

While she was seeing off the departing Encrid, the bastard flicked his finger and thumped the tip of her nose while her guard was down.

Hiss!

'This son of a bitch?'

"I'm going."

And then he just left.

After that, Esther secretly followed behind Encrid.

'Just what the hell are you going to do that you had to smack my nose?'

It was a tail born out of pure curiosity.

Esther following him was all started by Encrid's whimsical fingertip.

Something that hadn't happened in yesterday's today.

TAP, TAP.

The black panther quickly moved through the alleys, treading across rooftops where she wouldn't catch the eyes of others.

It was a light and nimble gait.

Moving without being seen by people was child's play.

In that manner, Esther set foot into the underground where Encrid had entered.

'What is he up to now?'

It was pure curiosity.

But then she caught the foul stench of a Spell in the place that bastard Encrid had entered.

'If things go wrong.'

The human she had chosen seemed likely to die. That was problematic. He was still a human she needed.

She had to go inside and check.

Spotting and avoiding Spell traps was child's play for Esther.

Once, she had sung of the stars and been a witch who embraced the stars.

Shoddy traps like these were nothing to her.

Thus, she saw the man fighting the Ghoul.

'Did his skills improve?'

She had no deep knowledge of swordsmanship. However, because she had watched Encrid every single day without fail.

'He did improve.'

His degree of growth was visible to her.

And then, it was when he was killing the wolf beasts. This was strange even in Esther's eyes.

'What is this?'

The man named Encrid showed movements that seemed possessed.

To Esther's eyes that pierced the darkness, his movements were a continuous series of incomprehensible actions.

He swung, slashed, and thrust the sword. He kicked the wolves away with his feet and knees.

She thought it was a chaotic melee, but he didn't suffer a single fatal wound.

A mere scratch was everything, and even that was just a scratch on his armor.

Could a tangled brawl produce a result like that?

'Are the beasts half-wits?'

Probably not.

Of course, if she had regained her original power, beasts or monsters like these wouldn't even dare lift their heads in her presence.

'But he's keeping on?'

It would make sense for him to turn back by now.

Encrid continued forward, and eventually, Esther saw the scene of that tragedy as well.

She wasn't exactly shocked.

Because among those who cast Spells, there were all sorts of lunatics.

And eventually, she realized that what lay beyond was a magician.

'What should I do?'

When he faces the magician, should I help?

With the meager amount of power I've managed to gather?

Then, it would take an even longer time to reclaim her own body.

She had, in her own way, infused some energy into Encrid's armor, but still.

'He's giving me a headache.'

Ultimately withholding her judgment, Esther hid her body and chased after Encrid.

She watched as he and the magician faced off.

Encrid exchanged a few words and then immediately followed up with an attack.

After that, Esther was surprised over and over again. And for good reason.

The man named Encrid completely filled the eyes of the Lake Panther hiding with the darkness as her clothes.

And the man was in the middle of showing off a ridiculous feat.