Chapter 153 - Still Unchanged
"How do you see it, Brother?"
This was after Ragna, the Frog, and Vengeance had left.
Audin spoke into the air.
It was a question, but his tone and deanor made it seem more like a prayer.
Rem picked his nose and replied.
"Damn it, he'll figure it out sohow."
As he answered, Rem recalled telling their squad leader—who had once said his dream was to beco a knight—that it was sothing he could never achieve.
He had told Vengeance there was no need to worry, and he genuinely believed that.
Yet, a lingering unease still remained.
If he had been the one to hear such words, how would he have reacted?
'I have no idea.'
He had never faced such a situation.
Back in the west, there were few who could compare to his talent.
And among them, he was always at the top.
So it was a aningless question.
'He'll do fine.'
What was the point of worrying?
What good was anxiety?
Instead of fretting over it, Rem decided to think about ways to further refine his Heart of the Beast.
'When he returns, I'll put him through the wringer.'
With that newfound resolve, he let go of his concerns.
It was easier on his mind.
Scrape, scrape.
Jaxen absentmindedly moved his dagger along the grain of the wood.
He was carving, shaping it into sothing sharp and pointed.
As his hands worked, he repeated Audin's question in his head.
'You will never beco a knight.'
Depending on who said it, the weight of those words could change entirely.
If the one speaking was the Frog, soone with the ability to evaluate talent—
'Would it be shocking?'
By normal standards, yes, it would be.
Such a statent could upend soone's entire life.
If soone told him that the thing he wanted the most, the goal he had devoted himself to, was utterly unattainable—
'I'd probably carve their throat open.'
But what if it was Enkrid?
What if it was the squad leader?
'Would it shake him?'
Scrape.
Jaxen continued carving, letting his thoughts flow.
What if the squad leader returned only to say he was leaving?
'Might be a relief.'
If that happened, he could simply go his own way.
Scrape.
Jaxen steadied himself through his carving.
He'd feel relieved, but perhaps a little disappointed as well.
Could he truly beco a knight?
A small part of him was curious to see it through—to witness the result of all that effort.
Lick.
Esther licked her front paw and grood her fur, imagining soone telling her she wouldn't be able to cast a spell tomorrow.
'I'd set their mouth on fire.'
The younger version of herself certainly would have.
She had lived with the whispers of being called a witch.
Worry?
Anxiety?
Instead of wasting ti on those things, she would simply recite another spell.
Such concerns were pointless.
Even if Enkrid were to abandon everything and leave, it had little to do with her.
What mattered to her was the strange dispelling effect that occurred when she was near him—
Not his sword.
Not his strength.
Certainly not his dreams.
But still—
'It would be a sha.'
She had never seen soone burn with such passion before.
It left a small sense of regret.
That didn't an she would try to stop him.
She wouldn't visit his dreams to convince him, nor waste her magic on sothing foolish.
'Even so...'
Just for tonight, she thought she might step into his dreams.
Perhaps she'd hum him a lullaby from long ago.
The kind that brought peace of mind.
The bear-like squad mber who had asked the question—
Audin—was fairly certain that their squad leader was undergoing a change.
'Is that an inevitable truth, my Lord?'
Perhaps it would have been better if he had remained ignorant, swinging his sword without thinking.
The sa trials ca for those who sought to beco holy knights, and Audin had witnessed them before.
It happened when they started to understand things.
When they began to feel the changes in themselves.
That was when the most terrifying trials began.
What did it feel like to be a diocre talent, watching soone surpass you?
What about when a so-called "late-blooming genius" suddenly awakened?
So, consud by jealousy and resentnt, had turned their backs on the Lord.
'My Lord, You say trials are given to those who need them. Then... is this also a necessary trial? It must be, right?'
His words beca a silent prayer.
A strange silence lingered in the barracks.
No one openly expressed their unease.
If only Vengeance were here to blurt sothing out.
Then at least he could refute it—tell him he didn't understand their squad leader.
Ragna had probably followed out of concern as well.
Sunlight stread through the square window, and as ti passed, the light dimd.
Dust floated in the air, illuminated in the fading glow.
If Krais were here, he'd probably say they ought to clean the place up.
By the ti the evening set in and hunger began to creep in, they were all considering grabbing a al.
The squad mbers and Esther kept to themselves, maintaining the silence.
Rem threw his axe up and caught it in place.
Whoosh.
Thud.
The sound of the axe spinning in the air and the dull noise of it being caught broke the silence.
Audin remained kneeling, motionless.
Jaxen continued carving, the soft scrapes of his blade filling the room.
Esther licked her paw.
It was around this ti—
Training or not, eating was important.
Their squad leader should be returning soon.
Thunk.
Creak.
The door opened, and everyone's gaze turned forward.
The sound of the axe spinning and the blade carving ceased, bringing about complete silence.
"...What the hell? Were you waiting for ?"
Finn paused halfway through the door, her foot just inside the barracks.
Sothing about the atmosphere felt odd as everyone stared blankly at her.
"...Don't block the way. Move aside."
Enkrid's voice ca from behind.
Finn stepped inside, making way.
Naturally, everyone's gaze turned to Enkrid.
Sword, knight, dream.
What he had seen and experienced from Aishia.
Once again, a burning desire flared in Enkrid's eyes.
That heat and yearning reached Ragna as well.
It was sothing he could feel just by looking.
'As expected.'
If he were soone who wavered and gave up easily,
he wouldn't be able to inspire Ragna at all.
"A sword that radiates light, a single strike cutting down hundreds—such feats are impossible even for a knight.
However, if one receives a knight's rank or attains an equivalent enlightennt, no matter what weapon they hold, they can systematically cut down and pierce through hundreds."
Ragna was surprised at how fluently the words flowed from his mouth.
But it made sense.
He had once declared that knighthood was his dream,
so he had long anticipated saying these words soday.
He had prepared for this mont.
Once, he had told Enkrid to wait—not yet.
Was it after seeing the squire knight perform well on the battlefield?
Back then, he had asked them to be patient.
Now, it was ti to fulfill that promise.
It was ti to give those who waited an answer—sothing close to one, at least.
"How is that possible?"
It was a question Ragna himself had once asked.
Of course, he had found the answer rather quickly.
There had been no need for hesitation.
The path was already laid out; he simply had to walk it.
But for others, reaching that path required blood and sweat.
That difference—and the burning ambition born from that gap—
ignited a fire within Ragna's chest, as it always did.
"To beco a knight, pick the most talented one out of ten thousand people. From there, one out of a thousand of the most talented is chosen, and from those, only one in a hundred makes it further. Then, from that hundred, only ten are selected to truly stand out. There are many who can wield a sword well. Quite a few surpass their limits. But those who awaken to 'Will' are rare."
That was why the knight orders had so few mbers.
"Wow, wouldn't knowing that just make people even more discouraged?"
From the back, the Frog added her unsolicited comnt.
At so point, she had settled onto the floor, resting her arms on her knees as if watching a show.
Ragna ignored her.
Enkrid ignored her as well.
Enkrid was focused entirely on Ragna's words,
listening intently, engraving them into his mind.
This was a mont when a new milestone was being carved into his path.
"Will is the collective term for all the power that allows a knight to transcend human limits.
In other words, Will is the determination, and determination is Will.
The first step to understanding Will is reaching the limits of humanity's potential."
Only a select few, after refining their talents to the utmost, experience surpassing their limits.
And of those select few, an even smaller number awaken to Will.
That number could be one in ten thousand.
Or sotis, not even that.
Will—so call it sheer willpower, others call it an unknown force.
It was an enigma, but it was the power knights obtained after surpassing human boundaries.
Simply put, without Will, one could never beco a knight.
That was the essence of Ragna's words.
"What happens when you reach your limit?"
Desire and ambition intertwined, moving Enkrid's lips.
"That's when it begins. As for what cos after awakening the Will, well..."
Ragna stopped mid-sentence.
Was his thod even correct?
He wasn't sure.
Did that an he should share everything he knew?
Ragna believed his understanding was too limited.
Would this be enough?
As doubt crept in, he fell silent.
Surprisingly, it was Frog who filled the gap.
"So people realize it after swinging their sword ten thousand tis alone. Others find it through repeated ditation. And so awaken the mont they encounter Will. But anyway—how was it? Aishia's pressure?"
Frog explained, then asked.
Enkrid turned toward her, his gaze landing on those bulging, frog-like eyes.
"I saw an illusion of blades rushing toward ."
How should he describe it?
Putting it into words felt childish.
A storm of blades?
A tidal wave of swords?
"You've got a good sense."
Frog chuckled, letting out a gurgling sound—her way of laughing.
"Whatever you call it, my opinion is firm—you won't make it."
Still seated, the Frog propped her chin up on one hand.
Was there ever a ti Frog's judgnt of talent was wrong?
Yes, there were tis.
Nothing in the world was absolute.
Neither was a Frog.
They were neither perfect nor infallible.
They were not gods.
Even so, there were things they could see.
Potential.
If there was even the slightest glimpse of it, then it was possible.
But in Enkrid, there was nothing.
Not the faintest trace.
Honestly, it was astonishing that he had even reached his current level.
'He must have survived countless near-death experiences.'
Frog's keen instincts told him that Enkrid's skills had been forged through at least hundreds of brushes with death.
His strength was the result of narrowly clinging to life.
And yet—
Standing before her,
this man with black hair and blue eyes,
with his strikingly handso yet slightly peculiar appearance—
His gaze was unwavering.
How?
Grrrk.
Frog's cheeks puffed up before settling again.
This ti, it was admiration.
A frog's emotions always showed through it's cheeks.
Of course, humans couldn't tell whether it was anger, joy, admiration, or sorrow.
Enkrid suddenly recalled past mories.
All those who had told him,
'You won't make it.'
It had always been the sa.
People said the path he walked was the wrong one.
That the entire world was against it.
Yes, always.
So, this ti was no different.
"I see."
His response was dull, rely a polite acknowledgnt of the other's standing.
And that was it.
No matter what Frog's intentions were, Enkrid would walk his own path.
That was his duty.
The journey toward the dream he could never forget.
He was a wanderer in search of his dream.
A traveler following the milestones on his path.
"In that case, may I ask the next question? How does one reach their limit?"
Enkrid turned back to Ragna, speaking once more.
Once again, Ragna found himself admiring his unchanging nature.
Even knowing it, he was impressed.
Because he knew, he was impressed.
"You refine all your skills to their utmost. Only you can recognize when you've reached your own limit. And once you reach that limit..."
Ragna's words started to tangle.
As usual. Enkrid nodded and cut him off.
"Oh, got it."
In other words, just do as he always did.
That was how Enkrid understood it.
Ragna had given a plausible explanation, only to end with another string of difficult words.
Why make sothing so simple sound so complicated?
"Hey, isn't this the part where you're supposed to kneel and lant, 'Is this all my talent amounts to?'"
The Frog asked, rolling her eyes in exaggerated motion.
"No ti for that."
Enkrid answered plainly and swung his sword.
Looking back on what he had, reviewing it, and moving forward.
That was what he always did.
So he did it again.
'That guy is definitely crazy.'
The Frog's cheeks puffed up even more.
A loud gurgling sound followed—this ti, a sign of intense curiosity.
Ragna watched Enkrid.
The Frog, all the sa, observed the man who had given her a reason to stay.
A man with black hair and blue eyes—her goal was never Ragna.
From the start, it had been Enkrid.
This wasn't talent assessnt.
It was pure intuition, shaped by experience.
'That kind of guy is bound to cause trouble.'
He couldn't beco a knight.
Then what would he beco?
That question piqued the Frog's curiosity.
'Might as well watch a little longer.'
With that, the Frog decided to stay.
Enkrid swung his sword.
Again and again, as always.
Whether the Frog was watching or Ragna was watching, he honed his fundantals.
The signpost ca into view once more.
A faded dream began to take on color.
While others feared his despair and ruin,
Enkrid alone saw hope.
They called it Will.
So described it as sheer determination, but others spoke of it as sothing mystical.
All he had to do was learn it.
To reach the limit and break past it.
Was that such a big deal?
He had done it countless tis before.
That was all there was to it.
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