Chapter 95 - The Secret to a Youthful Appearance is Endless Training

"At this rate, weren't we a married couple in our past lives?"

It was likely said because they met whenever there was work.

He was a familiar face from the monster hunt a while ago, after all.

"Couldn't we have been enemies?"

Torres spoke, comparing it to an old tale, and Encrid shot back.

There were two cases where ties from a past life carried over.

Either it was a bond meant to be.

Or an ill-fated relationship where no good comes from meeting.

"We aren't an ill-fated relationship, are we?"

Torres said with a smirk.

"That's true."

The two men lightly bumped fists.

Whatever awaited them ahead, a familiar face was better than a stranger's.

That was how they set out on the road.

TRUDGE, TRUDGE.

What welcomed the two after exiting the north gate was a gravel road.

They were the only two setting out from the Border Guard.

"Is it just the two of us going?"

"We're scheduled to meet an allied Recon Party across the river."

Was it not a particularly dangerous mission?

Was that why only the two of them were sent?

Encrid had all sorts of thoughts, but he didn't voice them.

Regardless, the one in charge was Torres.

Knowing only what he said was enough.

It was a journey that had begun at dawn like that.

Having walked diligently until the morning sun rose, the cloth garments Encrid wore under his armor were damp with sweat.

Even if the cold hadn't passed, walking fully armed from head to toe was bound to make one drenched in sweat.

He wore sleeveless underwear made of thin cloth, and over it, a thicker outer garment that covered up to his sleeves.

Over that again, he wore the leather armor that blocked spells along with a Whistle Dagger sheath.

Once he put on the gambeson, boots, and leather gauntlets, that was it for what he wore on his body.

He wore relatively thin pants, as thick ones would hinder his mobility, so this couldn't be helped.

Added to this was a thick-bladed dagger named a guard sword strapped to his waist.

The newly acquired longsword was on his left waist.

A shortsword was hung on his right waist. That wasn't even the end of it.

For emergencies, the more weapons, the better. He hid two knives in both ankles and tucked two more throwing knives into his left forearm.

He was a light armored infantry in name only; it was an armament with a hefty sense of weight.

On top of this, one more armament he didn't usually carry was added.

["Your left hand is idle. You need to resolve that."]

It was Ragna's demand. Thanks to that, he had packed a buckler and was currently carrying it on his back.

'Couldn't this be used as a substitute for a pot?'

If urgent, it seemed he could use it like that. If he removed the leather attached to the handle side, wasn't it just a thin piece of metal?

It felt like that much of an unnecessary burden.

'It can't be helped.'

Since he was told to do it, he had no choice but to do it for now.

He would try using it as a shield, and if it didn't fit him, he could just think of another method.

["Whether it becomes a sword and shield or just a single sword, it's time to move on to the next step. Before that, we'll balance things out first."]

While Ragna usually slacked off endlessly, he became an incredibly diligent instructor whenever it was time to teach Encrid.

So if asked whether that was annoying.

'Not at all.'

Rather, he was just grateful.

Encrid opened his Sixth Sense and swept his surroundings, walking while ruminating on Ragna's words in his head.

Looking at that from the side, it appeared to be a truly peculiar sight.

Torres had no apparent armaments other than two shortswords overlapped and strapped to his left waist.

It was a relatively light armament.

Torres glanced to the side and thought.

'He's keeping up well.'

He followed well even while carrying that heavy load. Without even panting.

His eyes were out of focus as if lost in thought, yet he reacted immediately to surrounding presences.

'What are you thinking about while walking?'

He began to grow curious about that anew.

That wasn't the only thing he was curious about.

Torres was someone who had gone on various operations up until now.

'It's rather disappointing since he isn't asking anything at all like this.'

When setting out on a matter with this much hidden, normally one would have plenty to ask, such as what the job was, what the objective was, and what they would do once they crossed the river.

If asked like that, Torres already had his response prepared.

'We are soldiers and enlisted men. Don't you think doing as we're told is everything?'

It was a chance to give a sharp rebuke.

But he truly didn't ask a single thing.

"Front."

That same Encrid opened his mouth. Torres cast his gaze forward.

They had been walking northwest for a long time with the river hugging their right side.

Two soaked ghouls came into view.

The few remaining strands of hair clumped together and draped over their pale heads looked exactly like seaweed.

They were hiding against a large rock and aiming this way, and since their skin color was similar to the rock's color, one could easily miss them if they didn't look closely.

'He found them before me?'

Were his senses better than expected, or was he lucky like the rumors said?

It was hard to know.

Regardless, monsters—enemies—had appeared.

"One each?"

"Let's do that."

At Torres's words, Encrid stepped forward first to draw their attention.

He unfastened the shield from his back, gripped it in his hand, and drew his longsword.

SHING.

'That's a nice sound.'

Those who earned their keep with a blade were bound to be sensitive to weapons. The same went for Torres.

Instead of drawing his weapon, Torres measured the distance to the ghouls.

A ghoul's nails contained poison.

Was there really a need to get close?

When the two ghouls kicked off the ground toward Encrid who had stepped out first, Torres swiped a hand at his waist and then thrust it forward.

A step first, his right foot stomping hard on the ground, initiating from the elastically extended elbow down to his fingertips.

The sense of weight loaded in his fingers left his hand. The knife flew, cleaving the air, and lodged into a ghoul's head.

With a *THWACK*, the head split halfway open, and the blade bounced off to the side.

The bodies of ghouls lingering by the water were often half-rotted.

That was also why they gave off such a foul stench.

It meant the blade had dug through the rotted flesh, smashed the skull, and bounced off.

Torres tossed the dagger and then observed Encrid.

There, he saw Encrid clumsily raise his shield, deflect the ghoul's nails, and swing his longsword.

The properly swung sword lopped off the ghoul's rotted neck.

The ghoul's blood was black.

The headless body sank heavily, dropping to its knees first before collapsing, and poured out black blood in a gush.

"I thought there were hardly any monsters on this side?"

Even if they were both Platoon Commanders, one belonged to the Border Guard, a directly commanded unit of the kingdom.

Encrid had also become a Platoon Commander, but he made sure to treat him with proper respect.

"There can't be absolutely none. Since there likely hasn't been any troops to spare for this side recently due to the pack of human-faced dogs. Still, not many will appear."

Encrid silently nodded his head. Seeing that, Torres suddenly grew curious.

"Aren't you curious about where we're going?"

"Isn't it across the river?"

"First of all, speak comfortably. Whether it's a Platoon Commander of a directly commanded unit or a Platoon Commander of a regular unit, isn't it all the same? Our ages seem similar."

"I'm thirty."

"I'm even younger at that."

"Then, sure."

Since it was an offer with no real reason to refuse.

"What's the secret to a youthful appearance? With us all rolling around the battlefield together, you having that face makes me feel a bit wronged."

Just by looking at the outside, anyone could see that Torres looked older. Not to mention, Torres had rather plain features.

People would have believed it if someone called him an inn boy.

Torres said this as he roughly wiped the dropped dagger in the swaying river water, a mix of green and blue, before drying it with his sleeve and tucking it into his chest.

The knife slipped neatly out of sight into his clothes.

It seemed he had a separate knife sheath sewn into his chest piece, but it looked as if it disappeared in an instant, making it look fascinating in Encrid's eyes.

"Endless training."

Hearing Encrid's answer, Torres let out a scoffing laugh.

He was a guy with a knack for words.

As expected, it would have been nice to bring him into his own unit.

With that thought, Torres brought up the main topic.

"You know this won't end with just crossing the river, right?"

NOD.

"But you aren't asking anything?"

"Will you tell me if I ask?"

He couldn't tell him; Torres didn't know the details either. It was nothing more than speculation.

"It won't just be something fun."

Encrid blinked as he spoke, and a light seemed to gleam in his eyes.

At least, it looked that way in Torres's eyes.

It overlapped with the image of him saying he would fight more monsters before.

'Is this bastard looking forward to it?'

Because across the river was the place known as the Land of the Monsters and Beasts?

"This is weirdly fun."

Torres also tended to enjoy danger. But didn't this guy seem the same?

"Let's go."

The two diligently walked once more.

By the time they reached the ferry crossing, Torres opened his mouth again.

"We got here faster than expected. We'll have some time left."

To cross the river, there had to be a boatswain.

A roughly piled mound of stones and such could be seen near the ferry crossing, and a clumsy road of sorts was also visible. The sun had now risen clearly into the sky.

When Torres found some suitable shade and sat down, Encrid began swinging his sword next to him.

"You aren't resting?"

"This is resting."

No wonder he was called a madman for training.

Torres watched Encrid swing his sword in the empty air.

He took a step and swung his sword. From bottom to top, from top to bottom.

'An opening.'

The moment he thought that, Encrid pulled the sword back and, using his arm muscles as a lever, struck upward using the opposite end of the blade, the pommel, as a weapon.

It was an application of the fundamentals.

'Clean.'

If someone caught that in the jaw, they'd have to spend at least a few days slurping nothing but porridge.

If they were unlucky, they'd never chew anything solid again for the rest of their lives.

'Ouch.'

Imagining it made him feel as if his own jaw hurt.

Encrid continued to move even after that.

Even though getting all the way here was a forced march in its own right.

'His stamina is killer.'

He swung and swung again.

Watching him, Torres unwittingly grabbed the handle of his shortsword and pulled it.

SHING.

The blade was drawn halfway, letting out a screech of friction.

'Ah.'

It was because he was too immersed.

At that sound, Encrid halted the sword swings he was executing and turned his head.

The two locked eyes.

"A bout?"

Encrid proposed.

It wasn't the time for this, but.

He didn't know. He really didn't know, but watching a guy like Encrid oddly sparked his competitive spirit.

It wasn't that it burned with hostility, though.

It simply made him want to test their skills against each other purely.

In other words, he wanted to finish the match they couldn't conclude in their previous promotion duel.

'I should do it properly.'

He had seen him handle the harpies and human-faced dogs a while ago.

He had also seen him practicing his sword just now.

Wouldn't it be hard to blindly view him as being beneath him now?

'It's a growth spurt, a growth spurt.'

To have this kind of growth rate while claiming to be thirty.

"Sure, let's do it."

Torres kicked off his seat and stood up.

Encrid sheathed his sword and drew it up, scabbard and all.

Even if hit with the scabbard, something was bound to break. Because Encrid used a heavy striking sword technique.

"Good. I like it."

At that infinitely serious appearance, Torres dropped a needless remark and let his arms hang loose.

'Should I try throwing a dagger?'

No, a half-baked move wouldn't work.

Then how?

He calculated and thought.

The enlightenment gained through countless real battles pierced through Torres's head.

'In a single strike.'

The moment he lightly kicked the ground, Torres's body shot forward as if skimming the floor.

Low and fast.

At a speed that brought Audin's tackles to mind, Encrid reflexively bent his knees and planted them.

At the same time, he swung his sword downward.

Whatever it was, it would get hit if it approached.

Then, Torres's body bounced off to the side.

Encrid's sword chased the traces of that Torres.

With his eyes, with his hands, with his feet.

He even heightened the senses of his entire body. If he lost sight of him, he lost. That was the lesson gained from their previous duel.

At the same time, he didn't give him any distance.

It was a war of attrition. Could he win then?

If he fought by measuring the distance in a protracted battle, and if this were a fight with real blades, he felt he could kill him.

But what they were doing right now wasn't that kind of fight, was it?

Encrid deliberately closed the distance.

Instead of panicking, Torres brought out what he had prepared.

Having narrowed the gap to a distance where he could reach even with his arm only half-extended, he flicked his wrist once near the opponent's nape. That was all.

He had no weapon in his hand, nor did he grab the neck or strike.

Reacting solely on intuition, Encrid tilted his head back.

SWISH.

The match was decided right there.

A knife with a blade a span long was suddenly held in Torres's hand.

Had it been a life-or-death fight, a mere twist of Torres's wrist would have been a fatal wound.

"I was planning on leaving a pretty scar on your cheek."

"... What is that?"

Encrid was surprised.

It was understandable. His hands had definitely been empty.

"It's my secret technique. Did you think I'd tell you just because you asked?"

"You probably wouldn't."

He thought he wouldn't tell him, but surprisingly, Torres spilled the beans easily.

"It requires sleight of hand. It's not something achieved overnight, either."

As he spoke, he flipped his wrist, and the knife that had been in his hand vanished in an instant.

And when he flicked his hand again, a dagger popped out of his sleeve with a *thwip*.

Looking closely, both the handle and the blade were relatively thin. It appeared to be an item made for the purpose of hiding in a sleeve.

"Hidden knife. It's my secret technique."

After spitting that out, Torres sighed and continued.

"Tsk, this isn't something I show just anyone."

"Yeah, it seems that way."

Encrid stood back up and cast his gaze far away.

There was still time to spare until the hour the boatswain was scheduled to arrive.

"One more bout?"

When asked, Torres shook his head as if sick of it before standing up.

"Sure, let's do it."

It had been a long time. The feeling of passion burning in his chest as if he were holding a sword for the first time.

Swept up in that feeling, Torres played along.

For the first time in a very long while, he truly felt that his skills were improving just through a short spar.

It was something that occurred due to a complex mix of exhilaration and the tension of soon having to face a life-risking operation.

Of course, the biggest reason was right in front of him.

'Weird.'

Since all of this was thanks to Encrid.

Torres realized that instinctively. Thus, the words weird and fascinating couldn't help but slip out.

When the boatswain arrived at the promised time, two soldiers drenched in sweat were panting heavily.

"I heard it was a mission for the standing forces, but was it training rather than a mission?"

The old boatswain asked.

It was a question they had no answer for.