Chapter 167

167. On the Day the Moon Rises

On the Night the Moon Rises

After one hundred and six times of "today," Enkrid understood the concept of coordination and felt his body's reactions change.

Thunk.

The moment he felt the spearhead coming from behind, he spun around and snatched the spear shaft out of the air.

It was like a trick.

The spear aimed at his back.

Enkrid twisted his body to avoid it, then reached out and grabbed the shaft, catching it mid-air.

It was like a scene from a well-rehearsed play.

The next part was simple: the sound of a blade striking the skull was enough.

When he recognized the situation, the image formed in his mind, and his body moved automatically.

"Isolation techniques serve as the foundation for easily controlling your body, brother."

Audin's words echoed in his mind.

If he hadn't rigorously trained his body with isolation techniques, he wouldn't have been able to do this.

The movements he had imagined were perfectly executed.

Naturally, he could also see the flaws in his own movements.

'Minimal movement.'

It was about conserving energy and the realization that followed.

Larger movements waste unnecessary stamina.

If that happens, endurance runs out.

There shouldn't be waste in your actions. Now that he understood that, he could simply reduce it.

The training from the swordsmanship drills had also helped.

'If I can predict the movement.'

It was possible to reduce wasted movements.

Without even realizing it, Enkrid's swordsmanship was advancing to the next level.

It hadn't been his intention.

It was merely a byproduct of his struggle and his pursuit of perfection.

Even after repeating less than two hundred "todays," and almost gagging from the stench of monsters and beasts, Enkrid still smiled.

The joy of growth filled him.

Even though he had failed repeatedly, he felt this way.

Yet, he didn't stop struggling. Enkrid didn't stop pondering his steps toward tomorrow.

It was the result of his constant pondering.

In that instant, Enkrid felt every nerve in his body stand on end.

It happened after more than two hundred "todays."

He saw the blade flying toward him.

It was around noon. He sidestepped with his left foot to avoid it, and the blade sliced through the air.

From the side, a spearhead lunged at him, and from behind, an axe flew.

Enkrid crouched down, pushing the spear shaft away with his palm.

He absorbed the axe's strike with his shoulder, letting it pass by.

Scrape, scrape.

His leather armor was scratched, but there were no injuries.

Then once again, spears, swords (which they called gladius), axes, and clubs flew toward him.

One mutated club, the size of an adult man's thigh, swung vertically.

Enkrid felt his sword hindering him.

It was in the way. It was harmful. It was uncomfortable.

He put the sword back into its scabbard.

No, he even stopped moving and unbuckled his belt.

His body felt lighter.

Boom, whoosh, swoosh, slice.

The Flow of the Day

Not every weapon's movement could be seen. Enkrid simply focused on watching and reacting, one step at a time.

He forgot himself and concentrated entirely on seeing and responding.

Before long, the sun had passed its zenith and began to tilt toward the west.

A cunning hyena repeatedly tried to bite his ankle.

Enkrid avoided it.

At times, he moved backward; at other times, he advanced.

He swiftly turned sideways and drove his knee into the belly of the hyena-like beast that had come too close.

Then, he threw himself backward into the arms of the approaching Nol, using his shoulder to push it away.

Using the force of the push, he regained his footing.

Next, he reached out, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he swatted the flying blade aside.

"Gwooo...?"

The Nol's blade veered off and grazed the head of its own comrade.

"Gwwwooo!"

Enraged, another Nol swung a hammer toward him.

Boom.

The movements were wide, and the trajectories were large. It wasn't difficult to dodge. The problem, however, was that such attacks came in waves—sometimes five or six all at once.

So what would he do?

He would watch and respond, one by one. That's what Enkrid did.

He pushed the spear shaft aside, evaded, and evaded again.

Without the intent to kill his opponents, it was purely about evasion.

It was a dance of instinct, reflex, and evasion, coupled with his sharpened senses.

Before long, the sunset began, and the moon quietly rose into the sky.

Enkrid didn't notice the change from day to night. He was too busy dealing with everything around him that was targeting him.

Dodging, swatting, sidestepping, and moving.

It wasn't a fight to the death. It felt more like a game of tag.

As the day repeated, Esther perched atop the roof, watching from above.

She could see it too.

'What's going on there?'

If she tried to explain it, it would sound completely absurd.

Enkrid, alone in the midst of the Nol's onslaught, simply dodged. He endured. After all, death was inevitable. It couldn't be avoided. So why? Why? Why was he…

'Why are you smiling, you?'

Questions bloomed in Esther's heart, though they were questions that would vanish once the repeating day passed.

What Enkrid was doing was something that couldn't be described with the word "trick."

It was as if he were playing with the waves of monsters and Nol.

He seemed like he was about to die at any moment, but he didn't. He avoided the axes, dodged the clubs, and blocked them.

Sometimes, he even embraced the Nol.

How else could he do it?

If he just stood still, he'd be beaten to death. So, Enkrid wrapped his arms around the Nol's arm like it was his own, using it to block the attacks of other Nols. He swatted an incoming axe with a club.

Bang!

It was madness. Rather than attacking, he fully focused on evading.

As the sunset ended and the moon rose, the "cart of the day" reached its destination.

Finally, the end of the day had come.

The moonlight gently illuminated the surroundings, lighting up the summer night.

The air was filled with the stench of decay, the heat of metal, the smell of monsters, and the stench of death.

Enkrid spent the night.

Or more accurately, he finished the day.

Without seeing the leader, the day had come to a close.

'Ah.'

Only then did his focus break. Enkrid finally realized what he had done.

'Ah.'

A second sigh escaped him inwardly. It was understandable.

He had thrown away his weapon and purely focused on evasion.

Why? Why had he done that? It was instinctual.

That was what he had gained. The art of pure evasion. The ability to watch and respond.

It was a skill he hadn't had before.

The change in his reflex speed and physical abilities.

Through isolation techniques, he had built up his body and filled it with the sense of evasion. This was the tower he had built through repeated "todays," surviving the venom and blades that tried to strike him.

Hundreds of creatures had come at him. He had endured. He couldn't kill them all—only a knight would be able to do that.

It was a talent that Enkrid had never had before.

But if it was about enduring, if it was about simply surviving—

'It's possible.'

A thrilling euphoria filled his entire body.

Even the Nol who had been attacking him for the whole day were stunned. Of course, none of them were actually capable of that level of awe.

Enkrid's body was covered in scratches. Blood dripped down his cheek.

He couldn't avoid all injuries. That was impossible.

But there were no fatal wounds.

At the end of the day, as the sunset faded and the moon rose, he realized the day had ended.

"See you again. But not here this time."

After the words were spoken, Enkrid closed his eyes.

Would today end like this? By simply enduring? That was nonsense. It couldn't be.

He had expected this.

And when he opened his eyes again, as expected, everything had changed.

A black river, a ferryboat, and a boatman.

"That won't work."

As the boatman passed by,

Enkrid closed his eyes again, and when he opened them once more, he saw the ceiling of a hut.

It was today again.

A blink of an eye—today repeats. Having experienced this before, he knew that merely enduring wasn't the solution. It was proof that endurance wasn't enough.

Of Endurance and Strategy

Of course, that wasn't a problem.

The euphoria surged in his chest, but now was not the time to enjoy it.

The countless repetitions of today, the gathered information, and the associations.

Enkrid kicked Krice the moment he got up.

"Get up."

"Ugh, what now? It's still morning…"

What else? It's the day I need to run to avoid dying, obviously.

The idea of using a little bit of a loophole came to him around the 120th or so repetition of today.

He was about to try it.

The original goal of "surviving today" had been achieved.

He had passed the minimum requirement that he had set for himself to get through today.

'The sense of evasion.'

With the heart of tremendous strength, it had now become second nature to him.

He had developed a feel for it. He had successfully embodied the fruits of his training.

Now, would he have to repeat this again?

This damn today?

Probably not. The people around him often overlooked it because of his blind focus on sword training, but Enkrid was quite good with words and sharp in his thinking.

He wasn't opposed to using shortcuts, either.

Enkrid had set a goal and achieved it.

'Survived.'

To spend the whole day and see it through to the end.

He instinctively knew that, in the end, this would bring him back to the original "today."

No, it was a gut feeling.

'Breaking through the wall isn't going to happen this way.'

Surviving was never the answer.

If survival had been the answer, he should have escaped during his encounters with the sorceress Letcha and the werewolves.

If he had just evaded the mad sorcerer's traps in the underground tunnels where he had created his lair, that would have been it.

This was a curse; thus, he needed a way to break it.

Enkrid didn't know the exact answer yet, but he had thought about it enough to have some inkling.

He had spent time thinking about how to escape today, and the method that came to him was a result of that thinking.

Since the day repeats because of the killing and being killed process, what would happen if he prevented the start of that process?

'Just try it and see.'

The result would come after the process.

"Did I ever mention that I've worked as a mercenary for quite some time?"

It was after he had gathered his equipment.

Sweat streamed down his forehead and dripped down to his chin.

It was still hot.

Just gearing up from the morning had already raised his body temperature significantly. But it felt just right—his muscles and joints were waking up without needing extra warm-up.

Today, there would be no time for isolation techniques or training.

So, this was just about perfect.

"Hmm?"

At Enkrid's words, Lua Garnet tilted her head. She seemed confused by his sudden remark.

'Is his head aching already in the morning?'

Lua Garnet's gaze seemed to say that. But Enkrid simply said what he needed to say.

"I've fought against heretics before. The Sacred Order of the Dark."

Pretending not to notice, Enkrid continued. Lua Garnet reacted immediately.

"...You mean the heretics?"

Her response was still unusual. A cold atmosphere passed between them. A deadly aura.

Enkrid, however, ignored the tension and said:

"Do you know them?"

This was a bit awkward.

Enkrid thought to himself that maybe he needed to work on his acting skills, but Lua Garnet didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

She wasn't paying attention to his awkward speech or demeanor. She was focused on something else.

The mention of the heretics. To her, they were the kind of people who must be killed on sight. She had sworn an oath against them.

"There was one I missed back then. And now I remember."

As he spoke, Enkrid tapped his forehead.

It felt awkward, though.

Perhaps acting was something he still needed to practice.

He had lacked rehearsals for such situations.

But Lua Garnet didn't seem to care.

"Do you remember the guy who was following behind a guy named Deutsch Pullman?"

"The one with the thick lips, ugly face."

Frok had a sharp eye for aesthetics.

Yes, his face resembled that of a fish.

Enkrid knew more than just that one. After all, he had repeated today over 200 times.

Was that the only one he'd managed to remember?

But it was clear that the heretic disguised as a fish was the most troublesome. Over the repeated days, Lua Garnet had always pursued that one, and he never came back.

"That's right."

"Are you sure? He's one of the heretics?"

"Yes, I'm willing to stake my sword and everything on it."

Lua Garnet knew how much Enkrid valued his sword. It was similar to the vow she had made to her heart.

It felt like the words carried weight, more so than something a regular human might say.

She trusted him.

"If you don't believe me, you can go ask him yourself."

"I'll go check."

That was the end of the conversation. It was more straightforward than expected. Lua Garnet immediately pulled out her whip, coiled it in her hand, and walked off briskly.

She seemed intent on finding Deutsch Pullman.

If he wasn't there, she would likely search for him elsewhere.

"What was that? That awkward speech of yours?"

Krice, who had been watching silently, asked.

Was it awkward? Probably. But that wasn't what mattered right now.

"You should get moving too."

Enkrid said as he started walking. He had spent so many repetitions of today testing how time passed, how the monsters swarmed, and what the problem was.

He had looked for the cause. If you didn't know the problem, then it was one thing.

But if you knew…

'Blocking is easy.'

At least, it was easy for Enkrid.

Having done it several times already, there was no hesitation.

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