1026. The boatman who gave up the fastest
Sion Bant didn’t really learn swordsmanship properly. If you ask why, there was no need to. Instead, he had very special eyes.
See.
He looks at it again and again.
He was probably the one who repeated today the fewest times among all the boatmen. Yet, his swordsmanship was superior to that of the spellslayer who longed for the peace of the past.
Even more so than Jitte, or the bearer of the alias “The Inquiring Knight.”
If only I could copy it just by watching.
Why would Enkrid have endured such hardship?
However, looking back on his life, a desire to say something surged within him. To tell him
that the world is not entirely gloomy and depressing.
Enkrid knows the person who splits and bakes potatoes for tomorrow’s meal, and the person who readily shouldered disgrace and fought for the well-being of his adopted son and those standing behind him. He knows the
knight who died defending a city, and the master who worried about his disciple even as he burned to death.
Ger and Pit, whom he met during his days as a mercenary, ultimately died for others, and Mirio of the city of Oara threw himself to his death to save his subordinate. Yes, in the past, Mirio sacrificed himself in that way.
What about the eldest sorceress of the West? She risked her life to fight against curses. For what purpose did she do that? Was it because someone would throw a sack of Crona to her after she did so?
He also met the ancestor of the West among the boatmen. She taught him the wave technique to cleave through giant beasts. He glimpsed her life then. Hadn’t she, too, cast aside all her remaining time?
Didn’t you see it, Zion? And yet, do you resent the world?
Anyway, just as Zion said, I couldn’t follow along by seeing it.
I cannot do it like you, Zion Vant.
I will do things my way.
Encred’s two eyes glow with a deep blue light.
“Yes, that is a good attitude. Wield a sword for yourself, not for others. Enki, I am rooting for you. Also, I hope my research will be of help.”
Jitte Reduin is a researcher. He studied the power of knights and was obsessed with understanding and handling the Will.
Encred borrowed one of the sentences he had experienced and realized.
Your next step lies in the yesterday you have passed. It lies in the today you are passing.
It is one of the times that have passed. Encreed reflected on the moment he became a knight. How many trials and errors had he gone through during those repetitive days because he knew nothing
? He had not forgotten what all his comrades had done for him back then. He would never forget it.
Moments accumulate to become ‘memories,’ and those memories accumulate to become ‘history.’
A landmark, a star—whatever you call it—a path opened.
Failing to block Balrog’s sword once again, his head was split open, and he died. A hollow void was felt in his head, pain shook his entire body, and his consciousness faded.
He opened his eyes once again on the boatman’s deck.
“I’m rooting for you.”
“Watch closely.”
Jitte and Shion each spoke a word. Enkrid caught his breath.
‘slowly.’
This is not a path to rush. I am not Zion Bant. Nor am I Ragnar Zaun.
If you lack talent.
I will fill it with willpower and deliberation. Enkrid raised his resolve, as always. It was what he had learned from the two boatmen.
Ah, of course, that wasn’t the only thing he had learned. Whenever he was about to die, Boatman Shion had only said that he just needed to watch carefully, but Jitte was different.
“You’re in the restoration phase right now, aren’t you? Back in my day, we didn’t really have that concept; I’m a bit of a classicist.”
Although it is unknown when he died, Yongin lived a long life and also worked as a boatman, so it was not difficult to surmise that his period of activity was very long ago.
Back in my day, the concept was simply that harboring murderous intent gave you power. But it didn’t necessarily have to be murderous intent; fighting spirit, fighting spirit, and desire could also suffice.
Whenever he died, Enkrid pondered with Jitte.
It’s just a matter of looking closely, so why bother?
Sion grumbled from the side. This was yet another unique experience. Researching with a boatman, really.
Whatever it was, Encreed listened attentively and focused. He did not waste a single moment, not even a brief one.
“If you go out, everyone will die, everyone will just die!”
Balrog rages, fights him, and dies. It is a repetition that gives no strength whatsoever. It is difficult to fight if you try to manage Will through the concept of restoration. Even
though I have repeated today six times already, the amount of restored Will hasn’t really increased.
Is the direction wrong? Maybe. But that didn’t make me stop. Now is the time to struggle. It is what my intuition, developed through repeating countless todays, tells me.
Encred did just that. He struggled and endured. In the meantime, he continued to ponder with Jitte.
“Enki, Enki, you’re smart. You should have found a weakness in my words just now.”
He was a good teacher. Going beyond simply teaching what he knew, he guided us toward finding answers through conversation.
If those lunatics had resembled Jitte even half as much, learning would have been three times easier.
Well, then that would have felt tasteless and flavorless in its own way, though.
“Will is what developed from murderous intent, fighting spirit, speculation, and desire?”
Encred asks. It is a conversation shared in a short dream.
“No, I said you just need to look closely.”
It was while listening to Zion’s grumbling with one ear and letting it go in the other.
The fellows I studied with gave it this name. Manifestatio Vigoris. They call it the Manifestation of Spirit.
What is spirit?
It is an unyielding momentum. It is the spirit of facing any difficulty with dignity. It is a strong and unyielding energy.
Encred had seen those who handled Will even without being knights.
The closest example was Eitri.
‘verve.’
Their lives must have been full of hardships, too. For those who had climbed over the hills of difficulty, even if by crawling, Will naturally took root.
It is a shift in concept. It is an exploration of Will’s origins. Encred opened his eyes again.
Why is restoration difficult?
If you ask why it is difficult.
Because that’s what I think.
It’s because I’m broken. I don’t think it makes sense to try and recover everything at once.
I couldn’t trust Usuke.
If I cannot trust myself, who will?
Is it true that the Will within me—my unyielding spirit—has truly been completely depleted? They said it was an inexhaustible well; is it really dry?
Along with the doubt, I cast aside the thought that restoration is difficult.
Manifestatio Vigoris, the manifestation of spirit; I shall speak with a steadfast mind and disposition.
“Be filled again. Because I must fight now. Help for my joy, for my fight.”
It was a remark spat out, mixed with the verbal spells learned from Yongin. Encred murmured it the moment he faced Balrog. It was a vow, a pledge. It was a command directed at his own inner self.
Will.
That speaks of will. Therefore, if will surges, it is only right that will follow.
Iterum.
It is the next stage of restoration. A will that was completely the same as it was at the beginning filled his entire body. It was the same principle as discovering the rock he had been leaning against instead of picking up pebbles one by one.
Encred savored the will that had filled him. Then, he greeted Balrog in a cheerful tone.
“Phew, have you waited a long time?”
“……These crazy bastards locked me up here and are using me as a trash can to clean up their lunatics. Arrogant and haughty spellcasters, when I get out, I will burn you all to ashes.”
Balrog breathed fire from his mouth, clearly enraged. Encred did not lose his breath even once, no matter what he said.
“Right, I intend to do the same when I get out. It’ll be a different kind of fun now. Let’s give it another try.”
After fighting a few times, Encred realized that not all Balrogs were the same. The Balrog that had died and left behind its hide was mad with fighting, but the Balrog before him was a fellow devoted to destruction and smashing.
There was no exhilaration in the struggle itself. It was a bit disappointing, but he was still not an easy opponent.
A spear made of black flames flew through with a whoosh. It was a projectile faster than sound.
Encred stepped back with his right foot and twisted his body to dodge it.
“damage?”
Balrog lashed out in anger, but that was all a tactic. He had already fought that bastard one hundred and twelve times today alone.
In exchange for surviving for a terribly long time, the creature had forgotten the thrill of struggle and found pleasure only in destroying things. Then again
, if Balrog were truly obsessed with fighting, he would have died long ago. Moreover, because he was fixated
on destruction, he was clever. He was skilled at toying with and deceiving his opponents. Encred played along with the creature’s tune.
That’s easy.
He slyly added that he should get angrier. Speaking, Balrog bypassed the invisible whip and sent it behind Encred. A part of his wing, made of black fire, detached and crawled across the ground like a snake.
You, you.
The Balrog trembled its horns. To anyone looking, it appeared to be seething with madness, but in reality, it was not. It was cold. Its body was enveloped in flames, but its heart was cold.
Ah, well, since it bore four black crystals instead of a heart, perhaps it should be said that those crystals were cold.
“Do you think all Balrogs are just crazy about fighting? Then why are there procs who make jewelry? What about the dwarves who want to become bards? Among humans, there are crazy people who become knights and want to end the wars of the continent even if they have absolutely no talent, so do you think all Balrogs are the same?”
That is what Jitte told me earlier today.
Right, he is right. Not all Balrogs are the same.
The fellow in front of me, instead of getting angry, is showing patience to secure even a slight advantage.
The Balrog’s rage exploded. Black flames actually shot up above his horns. The sword in his hand became three times longer and thicker. He
charged forward and swung it; it was a distance where, even if Encreed held the sword with his toes and stretched it out, he wouldn’t be able to reach it.
Under normal circumstances, one wouldn’t be able to think of anything other than dodging or blocking. The Balrog swung his sword while unleashing his fury, yet he remained faithful to the fundamentals of swordsmanship.
His strike was a head-slash. Encreed raised his sword at an angle to counter. In that position, as he raised the hand holding the sword, the tip of the blade pointed diagonally downward.
Ting.
Vibrations are felt, yet there is no sound. It is an exchange of blows in a world of accelerated thought and silence.
It is the moment when blades meet and stick together. A flame whip hidden behind Encred’s back flew in like a spear, and Balrog, having maintained his bind state during that time, twisted his sword as if wrapping it around and thrust.
In that brief moment, Encred lowered his head while still gripping his sword and ran forward. His thighs swelled as if they had been waiting for this moment. It is the Iron Fist, one of the knight’s arts. Because he leaped forward so fast, the black flame whip only pierced empty air.
Tdd
The greatsword enveloped in dark red flames and Oneul clashed in blade strength.
Black and red flames burst and spread around. Encred ran, leaving the flames behind.
A dark green cloak supported Will, wrapping around his back to protect his body.
He slipped into the embrace but was struck by Balrog’s knee. Encred’s body was sent flying sideways.
Pararararak!
The cloak that had wrapped around his body widened in the wind, creating resistance. Encred planted his feet on the ground and relieved the lingering shock with two light kicks.
Balrog, who had been spewing furious rage just moments ago, lowered his raised knees and turned around.
The sword in his hand returned to the size of a longsword, and the whip behind his back merged with his wings once again.
He pulled his arms back to assume a protective stance against his chest, then looked down at it. Two of the four crystals were shattered.
It was due to taking a heavy blow in a tactical battle. He thought he had tricked them, only to be tricked himself. To think he had
charged forward in that situation.
“Who are you?”
It was clearly human, yet the scent of its own kind mingled with the repulsive smell of grass and the fragrance of the night sky. Amidst this, the most pungent was a refreshing scent that seemed to emanate from the ground—specifically, high up in a mountain range.
All these scents pushed away the stench of hell and sulfur that had permeated its body.
Balrog foresaw an ominous future. Encred shook off the heated, reddened day in the air.
With that, the heat contained within the blade cooled instantly. An imprinted weapon holds its owner’s will and resembles the owner’s disposition.
They call me Balrog Slayer over there.
Encred spoke, and Balrog nodded in response.
“Is this a trap set to kill me?”
Balrog misunderstood.
“No, it is a trap set to kill me.”
Encred cleared up the misunderstanding.
“That’s funny. You’re a Balrog Slayer, aren’t you?”
“But does that matter?”
It didn’t matter. Balrog felt a fighting urge that he had long forgotten.
“Oh my, hey, why are you taking the hard way?”
Jitte heard a hallucination.
“Yeah, well, that’s your identity.”
Ignoring the hallucinations of Jitte that he hears one after another, he raises his sword and smiles.
“Isn’t it fun?”
Encred asked, “Iterum, how enjoyable it is to fight after refilling the Will once again.”
Balrog was influenced by humans. Fangs were visible even in his mouth.
“Yeah, you dog. This is fun.”
The two fought again. Encred won. He finally killed Balrog.
“This is my end. I’m really glad you fought this battle for me in the end. This is my gift.”
As he died, Balrog left behind a pair of gauntlets. They were made of ominous black metal, but when they touched the light, a red glow was revealed.
Encred picked up the gauntlets and roughly tied them around his waist with a string.
Thump thump.
Armor made of something between metal and leather dangled from my waist.
I wish that now that I’ve killed him, he’d automatically escape or at least see a door somewhere, but that’s not going to happen. It’s something I’ve already learned.
This labyrinth doesn’t open just because you’ve defeated someone. It simply means the next opponent appears.
If you were going to give up, you shouldn’t have started in the first place.
Boatman Zion suddenly spoke. It was the words of the one who gave up the fastest among the boatmen.
I didn’t give up.
Encreed spoke and walked again.
You just need to look closely. There is a loophole.
Zion nagged tirelessly.
