Chapter 82 - The Concept of Speed
"You seem a bit different."
"I've seen a lot lately. Especially regarding speed."
That swordsman was the catalyst, but it started even earlier—things I'd always observed.
Every mont faced during sparring sessions, like axe strikes bending like a whip.
The swordsman's blade, Rem's axe, and the experiences and realizations gained on the battlefield.
Everything I trained for in solitude and with the Isolation technique.
All of it coalesced, settling in my mind.
An indescribable sensation took root within , and Enkrid entered a state of singular focus.
A world where only the sword and I existed. Even the feel of the hilt faded.
All that remained was the connection of points into a single line.
Strength, the essential elent to draw that line.
The mont I t Rem's eyes, I unleashed it.
The tip of my sword traced the shortest path between two points.
The blade pierced his neck.
An illusion unfolded.
So vivid it felt real.
In the vision, my blade had punctured Rem's neck.
He collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.
His eyes wide open, frothing blood at the corners of his mouth.
No grudge, only pure astonishnt in his gaze.
"Damn, that was really fast."
The expletive-laden comnt shattered the illusion like glass, pieces scattering to the ground.
Beyond the shattered remnants, I saw Rem's astonished expression.
It softened quickly, his eyes lighting up like a child discovering a new toy.
"What did you just do?"
A faint mark marred his neck where the blade had grazed.
"Almost sent to my grave."
Enkrid responded, "Sorry, nearly killed you."
"I never thought I'd say this, but our little squad leader's got serious skills."
"Pretty sure I'm older than you," Enkrid retorted, his height also exceeding Rem's.
"Interesting guy, aren't you?"
With a playful grin, Rem suddenly thrust his axe forward.
Reflexively dodging, I watched as the axe followed my cheek with an unrelenting whip-like motion.
Sparring resud.
For the next stretch, I danced between life and death at the rcy of Rem's axe strikes.
"Do you understand now what it ans to swing fast? Good. Let's keep going."
Was this retaliation for the earlier graze?
Or was there so underlying grudge?
Regardless, I didn't back down.
"Worried you'll kill again? Don't be. I'll make sure to finish you first."
Rem's eyes glead fiercely, and his arms moved with precision, not as whips but as beams of light.
Where I had barely evaded before, the axe now found its mark on my neck.
Yet it left no wounds, not even a scratch.
The axe's edge grazed and pulled back.
Its bluntness prevented injury, leaving only a cold imprint.
"If you cannot completely control the weapon in your hand, you're a fool," Rem declared, signaling the end of the sparring session.
Lying on the cold ground, I reflected on the lessons gained.
What is speed?
My current understanding is trajectory—movent between points.
The act of connecting these points in a single motion.
Visualizing the line in my mind and executing it seamlessly requires the body to follow
. Strength and training were the foundation.
The whip-like motion of Rem's axe ca from this very basis: muscle, conditioning, and physical prowess.
The sa attributes Audin had drilled into .
Strength is the foundation for wielding a weapon swiftly and with precision.
Embedding the concept of trajectory into motion creates speed.
This is speed.
Fast as lightning.
It was part of the quick sword technique.
Despite the day's repetition, near-death encounters, and escaping the ferryman's grasp, I smiled.
"Phew."
I felt a surge of pride—not because soone taught , but because I realized it on my own.
A life spent being called talentless, never once imagining I'd reach such heights.
The sense of accomplishnt was overwhelming.
'I can go further.'
Seeing a path forward made my heart race.
Rem's parting words beca a seed to ponder.
Reflection and deliberation were needed.
It was ti to delve inward.
"If you don't want to freeze, it'd be best to head inside."
A voice broke my thoughts.
Jaxen, returning from outside, approached with his usual composed deanor, the fur-lined mantle on his shoulders billowing in the wind.
I nodded from where I lay, rising to my feet.
Sheathing my sword, I stretched my stiff neck and followed Jaxen into the shelter.
Suddenly, a shiver ran down my spine.
Goosebumps erupted across my skin, and my body tensed.
The sensation was primal, a response born from instinct.
I spun around, drawing my blade reflexively.
Clang!
The tallic ring of steel scraping against the scabbard filled the air.
Holding my breath, I exhaled only after confirming my opponent.
The source of the killing intent stood three steps away. J
axen, as calm as ever, but with his right arm hanging loosely at his side.
"Not bad."
His words left puzzled, though I understood he'd done sothing.
Could releasing intent alone suffocate a person like this?
"Karn's stiletto is an excellent dagger," Jaxen remarked, and I realized he was adhering to his promises.
"Why do you keep honing your senses? How can you avoid a dagger flying from behind without even seeing it?"
Those were Jaxen's words.
And now, what he demonstrated was likely the pinnacle of stiletto mastery.
"When one resolves to kill their opponent, an unconscious montum often accompanies it. We call that killing intent."
Montum, killing intent, malice, and willpower—all similar concepts.
Enkrid recalled Mathis, the bodyguard swordsman.
When Mathis announced his na, his aura alone drew everyone's attention.
Jaxen had assessed him as soone on the level of a city-level warrior.
"Perceiving killing intent is key. What you just saw was so blatant even a passing child could feel it and panic. It's only natural. Keep feeling it. Use every sense you have—this is the next stage of 'Blade Sense': the 'Door of the Sixth Sense.'"
Thud.
Enkrid's heart raced again, as it had when he first conceptualized the essence of speed.
"I understand."
His answer was calm, but his heartbeat betrayed his excitent.
He felt as though he might go mad from joy.
This newfound passion was perhaps the most significant change in Enkrid.
Each day had beco an unrelenting delight.
The thrill of growth he had never experienced before acted as both a whip and a carrot, urging him forward.
"You can do more. You don't have to stop here," it seed to say.
For what purpose?
The goal was clear.
Knight.
That dream remained a shining star within his heart.
"Let's go inside," Jaxen said, heading into the quarters first.
When Enkrid followed, Audin greeted him with a question.
"Finished training for the day?"
"Not yet."
It was a task yet to be completed, one that would hurl his entire body into a sea of pain.
But it was pain he no longer dreaded.
The sweetness of the fruits that followed the tornt was too alluring.
Physical agony transford into pleasure.
"Let's begin."
He and Audin then began the Isolation Technique.
After their training, Enkrid, thoroughly drained, washed up and returned to his bed.
But Esther was already sprawled across it, resting her head on her forepaws.
Enkrid reached out to stroke her head.
"Ka-ang!"
Just as his fingertips neared her crown, Esther swiped at his hand, her claws grazing his knuckles.
If she had been serious, she could have severed his wrist instead of rely scratching his hand.
Her action was nothing more than a playful protest.
"What's with you again?"
He couldn't understand her behavior.
Krais chuckled nearby.
"She's been like that since the 'Enchanting Squad Leader' song."
Apparently, the jokesters in the unit had composed a ridiculous ditty about him.
"Yoo-hoo, the conqueror of every woman in town!"
"The hunter who targets every passing lady!"
"The enchanting squad leader!"
Krais started the first verse, and Rem chid in.
The lyrics and lody were atrocious, hardly qualifying as a song.
"Kyah!"
Esther despised the song with a passion.
At its sound, she let out a shrill cry of protest.
"Is it because of Krais?"
Krais sang terribly, while Rem's deep, manly voice made his parts bearable.
"What's the story with the squad leader and all these won? Enchanting squad leader, huh?"
Ragna joined in, pretending to be curious but only adding fuel to the fire.
"Shut up."
It was better to let the rumors die down naturally than to deny them and risk further escalation.
"Did you or didn't you?"
This needed an answer—it was a matter of Leona's honor.
"I didn't."
"...You sure about that?"
"I wouldn't lie about sothing like this."
What was the point of lying?
Knowing Enkrid's straightforward nature, Rem nodded, satisfied.
"Are you impotent? When did you lose it? Is that why?"
This bastard...
"It's fine, Brother Enchanter. God loves everyone, even those who've lost sothing."
Audin chid in, inexplicably attaching the 'Enchanter' title before 'Brother.'
"Pfft."
Krais laughed.
Jaxen suppressed a grin.
And Ragna, never missing a chance to provoke, added, "Then what about the commander?"
"Crazy bastards," Enkrid muttered, frustrated by the abnormality of his squad.
Still, he found solace in the fact that this was preferable to internal discord.
"Sothing's changed," Rem remarked, observing Enkrid as he lay down.
"I think so too," Ragna added, with others silently agreeing.
Changed?
Enkrid reflected on their words.
Had he really changed?
"You smile more often these days. And there's sothing else..."
Had he not smiled much before?
Enkrid thought back to his forr self.
He couldn't rember much, but one thing was clear:
Back then, he was clawing through darkness with no end in sight.
Now, he could faintly see a path ahead—a path that brought imnse joy.
"Always a sword-obsessed madman, but recently, it's been more intense. Smiling, improving—sothing's definitely changed," Rem concluded.
The squad agreed, though Krais quipped, "Maybe just a little crazier than before."
Enkrid disagreed.
He was nothing extraordinary—just soone who trained a bit more and dread a bit bigger.
"Not that it's a bad thing," Rem added, but Enkrid ignored him, closing his eyes.
Later, Jaxen and Krais left for their duties, and Enkrid quickly fell asleep, as always overwheld by fatigue.
Esther found him infuriating.
'Why is it that every ti he leaves, there's always so woman involved?'
Even within the unit, trouble arose.
How could he look at other won when she was right there?
Once, she had been the epito of allure.
n lined up to offer their devotion.
But now, she was a panther.
'Why do I care?'
It was a trivial, unnecessary thought.
Her goal was clear—to rid her body of the accursed burden.
With that resolve, Esther leaped silently into Enkrid's embrace, pressing against him.
"Ow. Go to sleep, Esther," Enkrid muttered, pulling her closer.
'He's so shaless,' she thought, before using her ability to siphon away a fragnt of his fatigue, casting it into the void.
It wasn't much, but for soone who pushed himself to the brink daily, it made a difference.
Reviews
All reviews (0)