For three days straight, Enkrid engaged in cycles of reflection and review.
He had no choice. His body was pushed to such extres that it was a wonder he hadn't completely broken down. As a result, his physical training was limited to only the simplest movents—so exercises to maintain flexibility and swinging his sword in the air to keep his instincts sharp.
The rest of his ti was spent in contemplation and analysis.
Oddly enough, he didn't find it dull.
"Pushing your body right now is like pouring water into a cracked vessel, brother," Audin said, his words implying that any effort would simply leak away without much to show for it.
In the past, Enkrid wouldn't have cared. He would have kept pushing forward, cracked vessel or not. But now, he knew better.
To move forward, he had to rest.
"To truly progress, one must rest properly, brother. Once, there was a goat nad Nu," Audin began, slipping into one of his sermons.
"Nu had strong, sturdy legs and thought their purpose was to move endlessly forward. So, Nu walked without rest, thinking it was the reason for their gift. But the Lord, seeing this, said: 'Without direction, your walking will lead you nowhere.'"
Audin's sermon, though unsolicited, wasn't unpleasant. Beside him, Theresa knelt, listening attentively.
The two made an oddly fitting pair, often called the "giant siblings" due to their similar builds. Looking at them now, even their deanor seed to align.
After Audin's sermon concluded, Theresa began recounting recent events. Her tone was soft and asured, contrasting their awkward first eting.
Enkrid had a knack for drawing people out and fostering ease in conversation, a skill he used now to navigate their talk effortlessly.
"Resting because of an injury, huh? Sa as ," Theresa said.
"Yes, that's true."
"And after killing a bishop, won't they co for you with vengeance in their eyes?"
"I wouldn't know."
"How will you respond?"
"I'll do what I can," she replied, though she seed surprisingly uninford about the intricacies of the church's movents. It wasn't a fruitful avenue for information.
Still, Krais seed to gather so insights from her words, as though connecting the dots.
"I've been learning songs lately," Theresa suddenly said.
Her voice, naturally husky and rough, was like the grain of weathered wood. Yet Enkrid, with his heightened senses, discerned a unique charm in it.
Rough, yes, but captivating. Like a piece of coarse wood that, when crafted, could beco a stunning piece of furniture.
Though Enkrid himself wasn't skilled in singing, he had picked up nurous songs during his travels. He wondered if Garrett, with his surprisingly clear and pure voice, would harmonize well with Theresa's rougher tone.
"What were you doing while the captain was out there risking his neck?"
"Fighting," Dunbakel replied curtly.
"And where, exactly, were you fighting? Or are you being vague on purpose? Oh, I get it—you like being hit, don't you?"
"I don't."
"Sure, sure. Let's go. Let's spar—or rather, let's fight!" Rem taunted, prodding Dunbakel relentlessly, clearly eager for a bout.
anwhile, Ragna dozed in a corner, still recovering.
Amidst all this, talk of a banquet ca and went, but Enkrid focused on rest outside of basic training. His rest included contemplation, review, and conversation with his comrades.
He also made sure to eat well.
"If eel is ever delivered, make sure to try it," he suggested.
Rem, noticing Ragna nod in agreent, raised an eyebrow.
"Even that picky palate approves? I've had eel before, though."
"The seasoning is different."
The atmosphere in the barracks was peculiar, with Ragna and Rem often exchanging cold, indifferent glances. The tension between them was nothing new, and Enkrid had long since learned to ignore it.
"Here's ointnt," Shinar said, dropping by to deliver another jar.
"Did you raid the treasury of the fairies or sothing?"
"How did you guess?"
Enkrid, now accustod to fairy humor, responded smoothly.
"Instinct."
"I heard you survived thanks to that instinct. Impressive," Shinar remarked lightly before disappearing again.
The ointnt ca in a small, well-worn clay jar with a faint herbal scent, clearly handmade. Despite the old container, the contents inside were fresh.
As ti passed, Enkrid continued to imrse himself in self-reflection, consolidating what he had learned and gained. Since he couldn't move his body vigorously, he worked his mind relentlessly.
The insights he uncovered were significant.
Could this instinct be applied even in direct combat?
It seed likely. On a broader scale, it functioned as a sense for detecting the turning points of a battlefield.
If focused on a direct opponent, it could be used in other ways as well.
He had already proven this against the knight from the Order of the Crown.
With the boldness of the Beast's Heart, the sharpness of his sensory techniques, and his concentration, the possibilities were vast.
What is lacking?
Reflection is the process of understanding.
It is the strength to develop eyes that confront one's present state.
Having done this thousands of tis, Enkrid quickly realized what he lacked.
To be precise, he understood what he currently needed and sought, allowing the answer to co easily.
What he needed now was ntal agility.
How should one respond to situations, monts, and phenona?
Think rapidly about various possibilities, choose the best option, and execute it.
It wasn't just a matter of instinct; it required becoming accustod to the act of thinking itself.
Not intuition.
It was about streamlining the thought process.
The three characters in "instinct" inherently carried intuition born of experience.
In the end, it ca down to ntal agility.
Relying solely on instinct would lead to being deceived by a cunning blade.
How much advantage had he gained thus far by wielding rcenary swords in the style of Valen?
Enkrid never considered himself special.
He was always aware that he could fall victim to the sa fate at any mont.
It was only natural.
After leaving the village as a so-called "genius" in his youth, he had been beaten and battered countless tis.
This is why repetition and training beca second nature to him.
Once sparked, a thought burned ceaselessly.
As Enkrid delved deep within himself, events occurred outside, but they were of no concern to him.
No, he couldn't even hear them.
"Who are you looking for?"
He ignored the faint sounds of voices from outside.
Enkrid sank deeper and deeper within himself.
The knight.
The image of that man's blade surfaced repeatedly.
All he could do was read the trajectory of the sword.
It was only after witnessing countless near-death experiences that he could finally respond, unable even to grasp the knight's breathing.
What's different?
He understood the difference.
But what was the fundantal reason?
As he imrsed himself and explored, certain realizations surfaced.
By pushing beyond today's repetition, Enkrid gained a new perspective.
What was the swiftness required to save the child?
What was needed to overco the wall nad strategy?
The knight's sword was called despair.
But it was despair that wasn't truly despair.
A broadened perspective and his experience facing the knight awakened sothing within Enkrid.
To overco the knight's sword, he shifted his viewpoint.
Rather than blocking, he struck first.
It was a way to surpass the "once" condition imposed by the opponent.
Ah.
A small realization flickered like a fla, extinguished, then reignited.
Upon recognizing it, Enkrid urged himself toward change.
What had he gained from leaping forward to save the child?
The Will of the Mont.
He needed the speed to seize the fleeting mont when others' attention turned away.
Thus, "Will" was instilled.
It was the sa when trapped within the frawork of strategy.
Were the chains of foreboding, the Sense of Evasion, and the intent to attack layered atop one's senses truly different?
No, they were the sa.
He let them perate his sensory techniques, rging them together.
He kneaded them into one.
This is how he attained the seemingly impossible "sense."
And did "Will" not play any role in that?
It did.
He felt it.
The power of his will—"Will"—was layered upon his intent, enabling it.
And what of the oppressive blade he forged to withstand the knight's sword?
At this mont, Enkrid hesitated.
Should he take a great step forward?
It felt possible.
But was it the right path? That, he didn't know.
He thought he had rely closed his eyes while sitting, but perhaps he had fallen asleep. A ferryman appeared before him.
"Do as you've always done."
The ferryman's face blurred and faded.
Was this advice or interference?
Even in such a mont, Enkrid's intuition activated.
It sounded like advice.
Enkrid marked his path and walked it.
Step by step, steadily, he decided to continue as he always had.
That seed to be the answer.
When he organized his thoughts and opened his eyes—
"Hey, how about fixing that habit of dozing off all the ti?"
Rem's voice reached him.
Once again, without realizing it, he had imrsed himself in the world of the sword.
"How long has it been?"
"Two days."
It was Krais who replied.
But the problem seed to be sothing else.
"It'd be best to see the lord quickly."
"Why?"
"Soone's been waiting since yesterday."
Enkrid briefly assessed the situation.
He was inside the barracks, and Audin was nowhere to be seen.
With his heightened hearing, honed through sensory techniques, he detected Audin conversing with soone in the distance.
"I dealt with them yesterday," Rem added, his tone sowhat disgruntled.
From that, Enkrid grasped the general flow of events.
As Enkrid once again lost himself in the world of the sword, drooling unconsciously, it seed that his comrades had stepped in to prevent anyone from interrupting him.
But if even Lord Graham had allowed it, surely it must have been sothing significant to summon him now.
Only soone extraordinary would have a reason to call him out like this.
"Who's here?" Enkrid asked as he rose.
"Count Molsan," Krais replied.
"In person?"
"Yes."
Hearing this, Enkrid started moving.
A king of the frontier, an ambitious monster cloaked as a noble.
If he had co all this way, he likely had an agenda.
"He said he's here to see you specifically. Be cautious," Krais warned.
A noble had waited for two days.
It was possible to delay further if necessary, but it would be a foolish move.
Though Enkrid was consud by his obsession with the sword, he wasn't an idiot.
He knew which path would be smoother.
Though a little hungry, his mind was clear, and his body felt fine.
"Wait," Enkrid said as he strode forward, Krais following behind him.
Assuming Krais would speak up if he had anything to say, Enkrid headed straight for the barracks' front.
There, he saw a woman with long black hair, wearing a thin fur coat, standing with Audin.
It was Esther.
"Got tired of being a leopard?"
That fur had been so soft and warm before.
At his comnt, Esther turned her head.
"I didn't beco a beast because I wanted to," she replied curtly, as usual.
In front of Audin stood a man with a rugged appearance and a woman wearing scale armor.
The woman had her eyes half-closed, yet a strange light seed to emanate from them.
The man looked as solid as a rock, and the woman stood with a straight posture.
Behind the woman, several soldiers stood in formation.
"You should hear them out before they leave," Krais said from behind.
The scale-armored woman, noticing Enkrid, spoke, her gaze scanning his face and figure.
"Are you the one called Enkrid?"
"Yes, that's . And you are?"
"My sister, behold. Waiting does bear fruit," Audin interjected.
"Two days," grumbled the rugged man, moving his stony jaw.
As he clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles tightened visibly, strong enough to crush stone, it seed.
What is his main weapon—his teeth?
The barracks guards looked uneasy, but Audin, calm as always, added with his faint smile, "Well, he's here now. Isn't that enough, brother?"
"Is the Count's na taken so lightly in this land? This could escalate if you're not careful, you big oaf," the woman warned.
At this, Enkrid stepped forward to stand in front of Audin.
Audin was slow to anger, but he also wasn't one to ignore provocation.
Knowing this, Enkrid took the lead.
Though Audin wouldn't imdiately start throwing punches, it was better to defuse the situation.
Wasn't his appearance here enough to smooth things over?
"I apologize for the delay. Shall we proceed?"
"This matter should be addressed first," the woman with the strange eyes said, standing upright.
She held a round helt at her side and wore a thick fur cloak. Her eyes were unusual, with pupils that glowed white.
"She's from a clan that infuses spells into their eyes," Esther remarked from behind.
Such clans existed?
Enkrid stared at the woman for a mont.
So what?
Having spells in one's eyes didn't seem that critical, though it likely explained Esther's presence.
Perhaps she was concerned about dealing with a spellcaster.
Enkrid guessed correctly. Esther was here to make sure any clumsy attempt at spellwork would co at a price.
Where did they think they could chant so pretentious spell?
Enkrid scratched his chin with his right index finger.
The thought that this was all done to avoid disturbing him amused him.
Or maybe not so surprising anymore.
He could now predict their actions well enough.
That was true.
The woman with the enchanted eyes spoke again.
"We co from Baisar. Soone who has business with you is waiting."
How many nobles were there in the Kingdom of Naurilia?
Certainly more than a handful.
Among them, Enkrid was, to put it plainly, a country bumpkin.
Though he had been to the capital, staying there had been costly, and there wasn't much for him to do.
This was why he road the frontier.
It wasn't by chance that he ended up by the coast, learning from a reclusive sword instructor.
Even so, Enkrid knew of Centerpole—the Thumb Family—and the five great houses that shaped the kingdom.
It was Marcus's family.
The Marquisate of Baisar, also known as Centerpole or the Thumb Family.
This house wielded imnse influence even in the capital.
If Marcus had returned, he wouldn't have done so in this manner.
It must be soone else.
Enkrid pieced together the situation with a few words.
ntal agility proved useful even in monts like this.
He streamlined his thoughts and decided on a course of action.
"Let's all go together," he said.
Since their intentions were obvious, it didn't matter if he took this approach.
In fact, he thought it would be better for him.
At his words, the stone-jawed man and the spell-eyed woman exchanged glances.
Both seed unwilling to wait any longer.
Even now, they had been more than patient.
Without the title of war hero or rumors of his potential knighthood, they wouldn't have waited at all.
Soon, both nodded in agreent.
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