1022. I will not close the door of tomorrow with my own hands.
For the first time in a long while, Koti left the frontier and headed to the capital. It was the time to select the Knight of the Year, a selection held only once a year, making it the most meaningful day for him.
He selected Encrid, a mad knight commander from the Kingdom, and the Emperor smiled and nodded.
“Was he special in your eyes, too?”
“He was a very special person.”
Count Coty answered with shining eyes while kneeling on one knee.
Just how excited must he be to have eyes like that?
The Emperor valued that knight as highly as King Krang, and indeed, he was right.
Subsequently, the Count attended the occasional banquets. There, he burst into laughter upon hearing that the fellow he had chosen had been selected as the Illuminator—the person who made the banquet shine the brightest this year.
While the criteria for selecting the Knight of the Year is based on inner will, the Illuminator—meaning the one who made the banquet shine—is chosen by those who command attention with their appearance. It was amusing that the two criteria overlapped.
“Yeah, that guy’s face is just as impressive as his swordsmanship.”
He laughed heartily, and after the banquet ended, he also encountered Kahal the Thorn and Tora the Little Giant, two of the Empire’s Four Great Knights. It was Kahal first. Foul-mouthed Prok approached and abruptly asked.
“See?”
“Who?”
“Who do you think it is? You know everything, so why are you pretending not to? It’s the knight Balmung brought.”
“I’m asking just to confirm because you’re always spouting nonsense. Prok, it’s better for everyone if you keep your mouth shut.”
“How was it?”
Kahal is a Prok. In his eyes, Encred is a remarkable human being possessing outstanding skill and an unwavering will.
However, that was all there was to him. He saw no talent to advance further. Prok’s intuition told him.
This is the knight’s end.
He cannot go any further.
A proper change in purity is impossible.
The growth of those who stood by his side was at a level that could turn the majority of the Imperial Knights into mere ordinary people rather than geniuses, but Encred was not an exception. He knew this from experience, having sparred with him time and time again.
Why was Prok asking the Count? Because this ranking-loving Count was known to have the best eye in the Empire and to have a better eye for potential than Prok.
Count Koti nodded, agreeing with Kahal’s words. The Count spat out his assessment of Encred as if he didn’t need to think twice.
A guy who has crossed his limits time and time again to reach his current position, and who has even grasped luck by struggling desperately every day to seize an opportunity.
So, even if he becomes Knight of the Year, he is someone whose future is uncertain. If we are to discuss potential alone, nothing more is visible. It goes without saying, but it wasn’t certain. Didn’t I hear from Schmidt, a recruiter and colleague, that he was originally even worse?
It is a shame that I don’t know the full story, but that is how it appears from his current perspective.
Even when I looked with my own eyes, it was difficult to expect a complete change in purity.
This is the conclusion.
Although Tora the dwarf has a tendency to say that anything is good once she likes it, even she tilted her head at the change in Encred’s purity.
“Isn’t it excellent even now?”
“What if his goal is to destroy all the Demon Realms?”
Count Coty knows Encred’s goal. One might say it is a truly grand and difficult goal to achieve.
If someone were to say they would pluck the stars from the sky, what would one reply? Should one tell them to try their best? Or not to get obsessed with the impossible? Even if it wasn’t quite plucking the stars, Encred’s aspiration was just that difficult.
To think his goal was to erase the Mirror of Evil and become a knight who ends the war.
“Isn’t it true that you don’t necessarily have to live like that?”
Tora repeated,
“Yes, everyone is pessimistic.” The funny thing is, that is why Count Coty wanted to stay by his side. Because he had overheard roughly the life of someone who had made the impossible possible. That is why his gaze was drawn to him even more.
How did you get over the wall?
How were limits overcome? Simply by willpower? There are things that can be achieved by that alone, and things that cannot.
No one is free from time and is bound by space.
Although one may not have attained divinity, a Lord of the Demonic Realm possesses a power called authority, so they sometimes resort to bizarre schemes.
Whether it’s an order or whatever.
A person is a person. Limitations are clear. Yet, how did you make it this far?
If possible, I wish someone would write his life story and compile it into a book. If that happens, I will keep the entire collection and pass it down as a family heirloom.
“Maybe, well, I could just get trapped somewhere and fight indefinitely until I achieve a transformation of purity. That is, if I just die, come back to life, fight, and repeat that process.”
Count Coty was a man with an excessive affection for those who became knights. He was also a man who enjoyed indulging in absurd fantasies.
“Does that make sense? This bastard is still a flower garden. Go block the border, Count. Don’t just sit around and get taken by monsters.”
“Anyway, you foul-mouthed Frog.”
Even though they both criticized each other, a friendship existed between them in its own way.
Neither Captain Bram Ritzer, foul-mouthed Frock, nor the little giant added their voices to Count Coty’s imagination, nor did they foresee that the man Encred would ever stop. He moved
forward, though he did not know the method. That was the kind of man he was.
What Encred did and the image he displayed while staying in the Empire left a deep impression on many. As a result, his story was bound to circulate for the time being, whether at banquets or in the training grounds.
* * *
“What’s your name? Nelma? Elma? Gelma?”
Encred opened his mouth again and thrust the spear of story, but darkness blocked his spear with the shield of silence.
It was the first voice I’d heard in three days.
There was no answer. Encred felt as though the words he had spoken were not returning to his ears. Since
there was no point in opening his mouth to speak, he closed it. After that, he walked again. Three days, five days, six days—he walked until he was sick of it in the darkness where the beginning and end were identical and he could not grasp a single direction. After walking for a long time like that, he heard the witch’s voice again. Since he could not gauge the direction or the distance, he could do nothing but listen.
“My name is the witch Nelma! I am the one who imprisoned you here!”
Ah, of course, an answer was possible.
Yeah, I’m glad to see you.
After that, no further conversation took place.
When Encred heard the witch’s voice about six times, he realized it was just an echo.
You don’t know why, but you’re saying you just died there like that, too?
Then, if he were to die here, would he remain as a walking apparition, never stopping like this? Just as the witch left behind only her voice?
Encred did not know, but the witch Nelma had borrowed the power of the demon, the Lord of the Mirror World, to complete a new spell called the Labyrinth. In effect, she had created a dark labyrinth of the Abyss in the passage leading to the other world.
It was a variation of a spell used to temporarily withdraw her body into the other world; originally, she was supposed to imprison Encred here and escape herself, but the wound inflicted by Frock was too deep, and in the end, the Lord of the Mirror World with whom she had made a contract turned his back on her. That is how she ended up with only an echo remaining, just as she is now.
Well, it was none of Encred’s business. Even if he knew, he would have nothing to say but, “So what?” He
had no intention of feeling pity for the witch who had done such things out of malice toward him just because she was imprisoned. He
had no energy for it, either.
He walked again. Then he heard the boatman’s voice.
Shall I open the door?
I wonder when it started, but the boatman walked right beside me, keeping pace. It was a shadow that had approached without me even noticing.
If it were me, I could open the door to get out of here.
My gaze turned to the side. In the pitch-black darkness, a figure caught my eye. It was a man with a long scar running across his face. He was clad in a long sword and draped in a pitch-black cloak. The hooded cloak appeared to be a convenient item to pull over his head if things went wrong.
“How is it? Shall I open it?”
“Really?”
Encreed stopped mid-sentence and drew his sword. He had no intention of fighting. Though he could see and hear nothing, his body remained, didn’t it?
There were occasional echoes of the witch, and the boatman spoke to him.
Various elements acted like anchors, letting him know that he was alive in this place. So, it was training. One could say it was the perfect moment to hone his body and swordsmanship.
Of course, Encreed generally considered every moment a good time to use his body or train his swordsmanship.
That is why he was a training maniac.
The boatman stepped aside from his conversation, crouched down, and watched him.
“Your chest opens up.”
“Try pulling your foot back a little less.”
“Even in tight space, if you know how to use your power, you can hit properly.”
“Right, if you pull your foot to the side, space opens up, and put spin into that momentum.”
It was an exceptionally kind teaching. Although half of it was difficult to understand, he enhanced the purity of the technique by pinpointing the important parts.
‘water?’
He had also tried to increase Will’s purity.
He didn’t know if there were other ways, but for Encred, simply repeating what he had been doing was the best option. It was what he felt through intuition and sixth sense. Knowing that, he did just that.
Walking again, diving into swordsmanship training.
To be honest, it was a moment that would have driven even Encred half-crazed.
The witch’s echo was heard hundreds more times, then gradually became slurred before fading away.
“I, Nelma. It is I.”
Well, just like that, it vanished. From then on, the boatman vanished too. Once again, I walked with the terrible darkness as my companion.
The meaning of gauging time has vanished. Have I lost a little weight? Have I wandered that long?
I don’t think so.
It only feels like a long time, but that is not actually how much time has passed.
“Choose. Shall I open it for you? Or will you stay here forever?”
The boatman appeared again and asked. Encred looked at him silently, and the boatman spoke once more.
“If I leave here, it is the end. I will simply repeat this peaceful day. It is a better day than now. This is my best. Enki, I pity you. So listen to me. Choose the right path.”
This boatman is always pessimistic. He believes there is no hope in this world. I understand him a little, having seen in the fragment of memory he showed me why he changed.
That is why the boatman’s current kindness was a trap. It was fake support. Whether or not the boatman could actually open the door to the outside was irrelevant.
What he wanted was for him to stop, and Encreed had no intention of stopping. He recalled the time that had passed—or rather, the people he had met.
The child who dreamed of being a herbalist, the soldier who dreamed of being a poet, the old woman who cooked stew, and the old waitress who roasted potatoes.
If he stopped now, the soldier who dreamed of being a poet would become a corpse, and the child who dreamed of being a herbalist would wield a spear instead of a hoe.
It was a truly dreadful thought. If someone were to look at what he was doing and talk about how holy or noble it was, he would simply dismiss it as nonsense. Encreed just hated that. He truly hated seeing the number of people living like that, having lost their dreams, increase.
With that thought in mind, he replied to the boatman.
“Shh.”
“……What?”
“Quiet.”
“You’re just going to get trapped here and die in the end, aren’t you?”
The boatman wagged his tail until the very end. Encred snipped off the tail.
“No, I won’t.”
The boatman’s answer did not return. Pitch-black darkness descends. Trapped in the darkness. Instead of bars, the darkness devoid of a single ray of light was the tool that imprisoned the person.
Even if this fleeting today is the last.
I will not close the door to tomorrow with my own hands.
Encred’s resolve was clear.
This is a labyrinth. But if it is a labyrinth, shouldn’t there naturally be things guarding it? How long had I wandered? A faint figure appeared ahead.
“Anyway, is this the time to be slacking off here?”
A gray-haired barbarian spoke. He strode closer. Encred watched him silently, then swung his sword.
Bang!
It was the blade that blocked the slamming axe. With the axe and blade still attached, the owner holding them glared at each other.
“You figured it out? Everyone outside is dead because of you. Ayul and Kio, everyone! It’s your fault, it’s all your fault. You damn bastard.”
Encred pulled his left foot to the side and drew his sword. This is a technique he acquired while sparring with Tongue-thorn Kahal. It is a variation of the stance where he raises his sword diagonally to block everything.
He incorporates what the Boatman taught him after he was trapped here. He adds the power of the heavy sword obtained through rotation and a vortex centered on his waist. It is like a whirlwind raging around him.
It is the realization of a technique he saw in the Boatman’s memories.
Bang!
Rem was pushed back by the force of the thrust while the sword was still attached. That was not the end of it. A red line appeared on Rem’s neck as she was pushed.
It was the mark of striking and slashing her neck with the back edge while pushing her.
“Rem isn’t the type to say such things. Resentment? It doesn’t suit him.”
That is a fake. The fake Rem vanished. It scattered like mist. This was followed by a surprise attack from Saxon, who had silenced his presence. Of course, it was a fake. He
dodged as if jumping forward and struck by swinging his sword backward.
visor!
The sparks that flew at the moment of blockage revealed their form. Saxon’s eyes glared at him, filled with murderous intent.
The moment he blocked his sword, he pressed close, tripped him, and smashed his head with his fist.
Crunch! The hard skull caught on the gauntlet and split apart. Blood and brain matter burst out, scattering into a mist.
“If he really wants to kill him, Saxony will approach without being detected.”
Encred muttered. He might really go crazy if he didn’t talk to himself like this. The darkness began to reveal its malice. Encred actually welcomed it. At least it wasn’t boring.
