Chapter 455 - Earning Trust Through Action
A knight's strike.
That was all Enkrid desired.
What must he do to achieve it?
Uncertain, he sought answers.
"Moving Will? I an, isn't it just sothing you do?"
That was Rem's response.
Enkrid ca to a fresh realization that the insane bastard who had a penchant for cutting off nobles' heads was, in fact, a genius.
"Oh, so Will can be used that way, huh?"
Luagarne, adopting the role of a scholar, began her own research. Her insights proved invaluable later on.
"What about breaking it down step by step?"
Dissect the movents. Infuse Will into every motion of drawing and thrusting the sword. Approach even the preparation phase differently, she suggested.
Enkrid refrad his questions and sought advice. He kept asking Roman as well.
One day, even while staying by Oara's side, he asked.
"What kind of answer am I supposed to give when it just... works?"
Oara's answer was much like Rem's. Ragna would likely say the sa, as would Audin. Jaxen wouldn't be much different either.
"Just do it."
Ragna would respond while swinging his sword.
"Just pray; it'll work."
Audin would declare.
"You'll feel it through instinct."
Jaxen might say sothing like that.
It felt as though he was hearing advice from afar, as though they were back in Border Guard.
Prayer might not be the solution, but ditation could be.
Swinging recklessly wouldn't suffice, but neither should naturalness be neglected.
Could sensitive senses allow one to feel Will?
Not exactly, but they could reveal how a movent differs from the ordinary.
When a student surpasses their teachers, such feats beco possible.
For the first ti in his life, Enkrid experienced the process of hearing one thing and understanding two.
Anyone aware of his humble beginnings would be astounded, though for now, no one knew.
Not even Rem, who observed from nearby, could fully grasp it.
Upper horizontal slash, side glance cut, overhead slash, counterstrike, half-sword fighting, parrying, deflecting, chained strikes, weaving, drawing and slicing.
He reviewed his techniques and pulled one to the forefront.
"Thrust."
He decided to follow where his instincts led.
Enkrid focused entirely on the act of thrusting the sword. He gripped Spark and struck forward. The lessons he had gained through repetition and today's insights into Will coalesced in that motion.
"Should I separate it?"
No, it must remain unified.
"From the toes."
Stepping forward and thrusting the sword—just that.
What would it take to render such a move unstoppable?
"Speed and power."
These were realms beyond imitation.
Refinent of speed—a focus on precision and swiftness.
He repeated it. Ti passed. He poured his days into it. The sands of his personal hourglass trickled away.
Ordinarily, such effort might have driven him to madness, left him a broken shell.
These were hours fit for despair and lantation.
Monts to curse the trials he faced and cry out for respite.
Tis to bla the gods or the unknown parents who bore him.
Instead, he spent every second on training, ignoring even the screams of Oara.
"You seem to delight in their deaths."
The Ferryman mocked him.
He ignored it.
Soldiers perished. Milio fell. Rowena was lost.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
The Ferryman pressed. Enkrid gave no answer, thinking only of his sword.
"You'll never surpass this wall."
The Ferryman declared with certainty.
Enkrid didn't hear it, nor did he care to.
"You'll regret this, pounding the ground in frustration. So things never change."
Even as the Ferryman's words grew laden with concern, Enkrid dismissed them.
"You've got too many scattered techniques."
Oara's advice was clear: consolidate. Enkrid's body naturally combined everything into one.
Was this the path to knighthood?
Or was it the wrong road?
Perhaps rely a desperate struggle?
A waste of ti?
Doubt could have consud him, yet Enkrid walked forward, undeterred.
And so ca today.
A piercing scream broke the silence.
Enkrid, without so much as wiping the sleep from his eyes, told Rem to follow him and grabbed his sword.
"Block this."
Without warning, he lunged. Rem reflexively moved his axe.
He saw the point surpassing speed and barely managed to intercept it.
Clang!
The sword's tip t the axe's surface and rebounded.
"Damn it, were you trying to put a hole in my axe?"
Had Enkrid gone all out, the axe might have cracked. He clenched and unclenched his hand several tis.
Was this a move he could only perform once?
Even with a body hardened through isolation techniques, his ankle, waist, and shoulder all ached from that single thrust.
His muscles scread, but he didn't care.
"Let's go."
Enkrid headed for the battlefield.
In his mind, the day's practice replayed endlessly.
It was just the beginning.
"Dunbakel."
The beast-woman approached, looking unusually uneasy.
Her face was grimy, unwashed, and reeked of sweat.
Enkrid whispered.
"Did I ever tell you?"
"...Tell what?"
Startled by his sudden friendliness, Dunbakel grew wary.
Her instincts as a beastkin scread that this man was up to sothing.
"I trust you."
"..."
A dog's bark broke the silence, and Dunbakel blinked.
"You're the prettiest beast-woman I've ever seen."
Enkrid could count the number of beast-won he'd encountered on one hand. Dunbakel was the only one he'd truly looked at closely.
Still, it was an out-of-the-blue remark.
"What?"
"You're strong."
"Rem, is he feeling alright?"
"I've always thought your potential surpasses mine."
This was the truth. Enkrid was acutely aware of his own ager talent.
"No fever."
Dunbakel brushed her hand against his forehead.
"So, it's fine to run away."
There's a saying that flattery can make even a dragon dance.
Even self-centered beastkin aren't immune to kind words.
Enkrid didn't want to see Dunbakel reduced to a terrified kitten.
"Run if you must, but fight until then. Do what you can."
Dunbakel froze.
Did he understand what he was asking?
All she wanted was to survive, and that desire weighed heavily on her.
"Is re survival enough?"
Beastkin are creatures of survival, but Dunbakel was more so.
She could do anything to live.
Yet deep down, she knew survival alone wasn't enough.
"What do I want to beco beyond surviving?"
Enkrid's words brought her to a halt. As others moved forward, she stood lost in thought.
Not for long.
Before the others had taken three steps, she had reached her decision.
"Why am I here?"
She threw a stone of inquiry into the lake of her being.
The ripples ford and spread.
Before they subsided, clarity erged—a revelation.
"Proof."
She wanted to prove she wasn't a failure born of beastkin, that she could live well without her parents' love.
She had always denied herself, and perhaps that's why she envied Enkrid, who strode forward resolutely.
Not that his journey was easy.
"Ah."
With a small exclamation, Dunbakel moved again.
She had decided on her task. The fear that had gripped her lightened, even if only a little.
A single spark of resolve couldn't overco everything, but a guiding star could illuminate the path.
As Enkrid strode ahead, Dunbakel, too, saw where her steps would lead.
"Rowena is..."
"If you're going to save her, co along."
Enkrid cut through the commotion at the gates.
"...Pardon?"
Rowena's lover stared at Enkrid, montarily dumbfounded. But as realization dawned, the soldier moved.
"You're coming with ?"
"Your na?"
Until now, Enkrid hadn't known this soldier's na.
"Admor here."
"Alright, let's go."
Enkrid knew he had to make his intent resonate with everyone.
It reminded him of the ti he persuaded Andrew back during his squad leader days in the Tall grass Fields.
Back then, he had started by proving his skills. Now, that wasn't necessary.
"Aishia!"
At his shout, Aishia erged from one side, draped in her cloak and armor.
The knights' cloaks were said to be fla-resistant and enchanted to retain body heat when wrapped tightly. They also provided protection against simple spells, a symbol of the order itself.
It wasn't cumberso attire but practical and efficient.
"What?"
"Have I ever ntioned this?"
Speaking just loud enough for everyone to hear, Enkrid felt the soldiers' gazes converge on him.
Not just them—Oara and the group of junior knights and squires at the forefront were also listening.
"...ntioned what?"
Aishia found his behavior peculiar. This was a man prone to eccentricities, and now he was deliberately drawing attention.
Enkrid noticed her reaction but ignored it. There was no ti to address every detail.
"That I was once a famous monster hunter."
That was a lie.
He had been a monster hunter, yes, but never a famous one.
"Is that so?"
"I've got a feeling."
"What kind of feeling?"
"There's a snake coiled deep inside there."
Aishia turned her gaze to where Enkrid indicated.
It was true that the sinister air of the labyrinth was palpable, prickling her skin, but she couldn't sense anything specific.
"What are you talking about?"
From atop the wall, Oara asked.
"The air has changed. One of my beastkin underlings even caught a scent. It's not just the screaming spiders—there's a stench of conspiracy coming from deeper inside the labyrinth."
"?"
From the side, Dunbakel pointed to herself with a finger. Rem slyly nudged her forward and said,
"Shut up and watch."
It seed their captain had a plan brewing.
What it was, no one could tell.
"Probably sothing amusing," Rem thought.
Enkrid was not the type to act recklessly without reason. Rem had faith in that.
"Rem, Dunbakel, head out quickly."
Enkrid looked at Rem as he spoke.
"And where exactly am I going?"
"Over there."
Enkrid pointed deeper into the labyrinth.
Admor, who had co out to rescue Rowena, fidgeted nervously, unsure what to do.
"Into the labyrinth?"
"Afraid?"
"Is that supposed to be provocation?"
"No, just asking."
"Damn it, I don't know what's there, but fine. I'll go."
"Be quick and co back safely."
Enkrid's instruction left no room for objection.
Rem could have questioned him.
For example:
"You're sending into the unknown without any idea of what's in there. What are you thinking?"
It was a frustrating order.
And Enkrid might have responded with,
"Just go and find out."
Or perhaps, "Call it instinct."
Enkrid had no specific answers prepared.
"Fine."
Rem nodded, accepting.
Enkrid then told Admor to follow Rem.
"Look for traces. You'll find what you're trying to save."
With no other choice, Admor hurriedly trailed after Rem.
As Rem departed, Enkrid's gaze lingered on his back.
In the past, during his wandering days across the continent, no one would have heeded his words.
Back when he led a rowdy squad, he had relied on force in similar situations.
It reminded him of Andrew—tis when brute strength was necessary to earn compliance.
But now?
All he had to do was trade trust for action.
Enkrid had spent enough ti with Rem to know how he would react.
"Let's go, Aishia."
"And where am I going?"
Eysia, standing nearby, was utterly perplexed.
"Lead the squires into battle."
Enkrid's tone was firm.
"Now? ? Out there?"
"Aishia of the Red Cloak Knights, will you stand idly by while the Thousand Stone fall into danger? Do you intend to keep wearing that red cloak after doing so?"
At the sudden rebuke, Aishia glared daggers at him.
"Are you picking a fight?"
"No, cheering you on."
In the end, she relented. Aishia couldn't refuse the words of the man who had given her so much.
He was the one who had enabled her to wear the red cloak to begin with.
During the civil war, she had incurred debts she felt she could never repay—massive debts.
For that reason alone, she had no excuse not to listen to him now.
Enkrid killed six spider monsters that had been rampaging in front of four squires before stomping on the ground with his foot.
The heavy thud drew everyone's attention, including Roman and Oara.
"No one surpasses in hunting monsters. From now on, I'll lead the frontlines."
"...Did the drink you had earlier go bad?"
Roman muttered under his breath.
Enkrid ignored him. He had used trust to buy action, but now it was ti to use action to earn trust.
"Burrow spiders. On the ground."
The countless repetitions of today allowed Enkrid to stay ahead of the ga. By acting within predictable patterns, he could anticipate the enemy's moves.
Rumble.
The dirt floor shook before a spider's head burst through.
"Oliver, hit it!"
It didn't matter whose order it was. Oliver reflexively slamd his mace down.
Crack!
The spider's head burst, spraying black ichor.
"Roman, under your feet."
Before Enkrid's words even finished, dust began to stir beneath Roman's feet.
Whether from the sky or underground, no one here would fall victim to a sudden attack.
Naturally, smashing in the heads of spiders that erged cluelessly into the open was no challenge.
Crunch!
Roman's greatsword crashed down, splitting another spider's skull.
Following Enkrid's predictions, spiders erged, their formations pressing forward as reinforcents arrived.
The rear gate began to creak open.
"Close the gate! Hold the line with those stationed at the front! Archers, aim only beyond us!"
Enkrid's voice was calm at first, but it rose to a commanding shout by the end.
This uncharacteristic intensity drew even Oara's attention.
From her vantage point on the wall, she nodded with interest.
It was evident even at a glance.
His words and gestures carried conviction. If things went awry, she could intervene later. For now, his judgnt didn't seem flawed.
Enkrid moved as planned.
He bought action with trust.
And earned trust through action.
What ca next?
It was ti to fight like hell.
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