Chapter 226 - Jevikal

The fight against Jevikal was a brutal clash.

For every strike Enkrid aimed, he had to endure two in return.

Even so, Enkrid remained unchanged. He was the same as ever, unflinching even when his life hung by a thread.

That unwavering resolve, that steadfast temperament—it was what had brought him this far.

"Damn, those eyes are really starting to piss me off," Jevikal muttered, his grin widening.

Watching the fight, Rem flinched more than once but couldn't help muttering to himself.

How could anyone tolerate such a situation?

Finally, he spoke up.

"Right? Annoying, isn't it? Totally understandable."

Why was it that, in this moment, he found himself empathizing with Jevikal's frustration?

He wasn't alone in this sentiment. Ragna, Jaxen, and even Audin nodded in silent agreement.

No matter what you did, Enkrid remained the same—unshaken, unyielding.

He simply kept doing what needed to be done. A man who acted first and debated right and wrong later.

Because of that, Audin had introduced the Isolation Technique into Enkrid's repertoire for the first time, Jaxen had taught him the elusive Sense of Evasion, and Rem had imparted the essence of the Heart of the Beast.

Even Ragna had been compelled to pass on his skills to Enkrid under similar circumstances.

Those eyes, that dogged persistence—never giving up. Watching him could drive anyone to madness.

"Aren't you scared?" Jevikal asked, exasperated. As he spoke, he subtly twisted his blade, shifting to an unconventional stance while repositioning his feet.

Enkrid matched his movement, adjusting his sword's angle and shuffling his feet across the ground without lifting them, his body sliding into a new position.

"Of what?"

"You almost died just now."

"Didn't you, too?"

Earlier, Jevikal had feinted by extending his left foot forward, only to retract it and launch a surprise thrust.

Enkrid had fallen for it, swinging his sword prematurely, which allowed Jevikal to counterattack with precision.

At the critical moment, as Jevikal's blade split into four deadly arcs, anyone else would've been frozen in fear.

Enkrid wasn't immune to the terror, but he didn't let it kill him.

How had he evaded it?

Sense of Evasion.

Jaxen's technique had saved his life. Though it cost him—a slice across his neck burned like molten iron branding his skin.

And that wasn't the only injury.

Enkrid's abdomen had been pierced, his arm tendons narrowly missed, and his neck had nearly been severed moments earlier.

"That's enough for today! Remember, there's always tomorrow!"

Krais shouted, prompted by Rem's signal.

Jevikal had no intention of stopping. He was ready to strike a decisive blow.

But his intentions were thwarted.

"Careful, you're getting on my nerves," Rem warned, stepping in abruptly. Somehow, he had closed the distance and was now behind Enkrid's left flank.

If Jevikal struck down Enkrid now, what would happen?

Even with revealing his trump card, Jevikal realized:

I'd die too.

Naturally, Jevikal valued his own life far more than anyone else's.

"Fine."

He sheathed his blade and raised his palms in a gesture of surrender, though the faintest trace of killing intent lingered.

Rem scoffed and turned away.

He didn't need to keep an eye on Jevikal. At this range, whatever Jevikal tried, Rem's axe would reach him first.

Besides, Rem wasn't alone.

The wily wildcat of the group had positioned himself on the opposite side.

How many had noticed?

Certainly not Jevikal.

"Alright, folks! Today isn't the only day, you know! How about some rest? Make friends, bond a little. And if you're bored, the alleys behind the tavern have plenty of spots to spice up your night. Don't know the good places? That's tragic! Luckily for you…"

Krais took the opportunity to peddle his wares, his antics strangely disarming the tension.

"This here is the Border Guard Gourmet Map!"

It was a simple map, marking shops that sold spiced jerky, marmalade, freshly baked bread, and more.

"Each one's just ten copper coins!"

The price was oddly reasonable—not too high, but not negligible either.

"I'll take one. Need a good meal after all that bloodletting," Jevikal chuckled, grabbing a map.

Encouraged by his purchase, others from the merchant guild and even the Earl's entourage followed suit.

Finally, the half-giant warrior timidly asked, "Shouldn't the injured gentleman get this for free?"

Krais snatched back the map he was handing over.

"That was yesterday's policy. Starting today, everyone pays. Even you, my lady."

Hearing herself addressed as lady for the first time, the half-giantess nodded solemnly and handed over the exact amount.

Clapping his hands, Krais addressed the group with a theatrical bow.

"You won't regret it. Rest well, explore the city, and feel free to spar amongst yourselves. But no causing trouble, and ensure the safety of the townsfolk."

Rising from his bow, he added, "Welcome to Border Guard."

Despite the blood he'd lost, none of his injuries were life-threatening, so Enkrid observed the scene in silence.

Does that guy really think this is some kind of tourist destination?

Border Guard, for all its trade city facade, was fundamentally a military outpost.

There wasn't much for tourists to enjoy.

Not that anyone seemed ready to leave.

And why would they?

"I'll go next time," Enkrid muttered to himself.

How Did the Eyes of the Rapier Fencer Look?

They shone—with a glint of competitive spirit and an unmistakable curiosity.

Whatever his motives, it was clear this man wasn't leaving anytime soon.

The same could be said for the half-giant. She seemed fully intent on staying as well.

As for Edin Molsen's party? That went without saying.

"Fight me again!"

As soon as his wounds were healed, Edin had roared this challenge. But after watching the battle with Jevikal, he fell silent, though his twitching brow betrayed his displeasure with the situation.

Regardless, with Edin staying, the guards accompanying him would also remain.

Ah, what abundance.

Was this what it felt like to be nourished in spirit? Enkrid almost felt full without eating.

"You're really determined to make a killing, huh? And that last bit about civilian safety—what's that all about?"

Surely that was something people could figure out on their own.

When Enkrid voiced his curiosity, Krais, back from his antics, whispered his answer.

"That Jevikal guy… I don't have a good feeling about him. If we leave him be, he might cause trouble. I'll let the higher-ups know we need to tighten security. Sure, if he dies fighting soldiers, that's one thing, but if an outsider murders a civilian, we'll have a real headache on our hands."

Enkrid thought back to his fight with Jevikal.

That blade, that technique—it was memorable. The clash had been so intense he'd had no time to gauge Jevikal's personality, only his skill. But if Krais's judgment was sharp, it was worth trusting.

"Jaxen, report this to the higher-ups."

"Got it."

Sending the cunning wildcat to handle the task, Enkrid began his limping journey back to the lodging.

"You're gonna wear yourself down to nothing at this rate," Rem said, falling in step beside him.

It was nagging, sure, but Enkrid couldn't argue. Rem was right.

His body was a mess—a hole in his abdomen, tendons in his arm nearly severed.

If he died, it would all be healed, leaving only the strength he'd gained from the ordeal. In a way, it was a convenient, even advantageous, ability.

But Enkrid held on.

Why? If someone asked, he wouldn't have an answer.

He just wanted to. He clawed and scraped forward with everything he had.

He had simply erased the word "give up" from his dictionary of life.

Unbeknownst to him, this relentless mindset was the true essence of the Boatman's Curse.

Its core was to leave one perpetually striving, never satisfied with resting in the comfort of the present.

If the boatman understood this, he might have been so frustrated that he'd throw his lamp into the black river in a fit of rage.

Of course, Enkrid wasn't aware of any of this. He was just doing what he'd always done—moving forward.

"Well, I didn't die, did I?"

"You make it sound so simple. Anyway, did you really get a good look at that guy's swordsmanship?"

"I saw it."

Enkrid replayed the fight in his mind.

Jevikal's swordsmanship combined true blade forms and phantom blade forms. On the continent, this hybrid style was called Ki Swordsmanship. More specifically, it was the Eastern Ki Sword.

The blade's trajectories were strange, and its targeting was uncanny.

One moment, it seemed aimed at the arm; the next, it shifted to the shoulder. Aiming for the shoulder, it suddenly struck at the thigh.

It was hard to read.

So how had he responded?

At first, he tried matching Jevikal blow for blow. If he took one hit, he aimed to land one in return.

He swung fast and hard, meeting Jevikal head-on.

How did Jevikal respond?

By blocking and immediately countering, targeting his wrist with precision.

From a technical perspective, Jevikal's moniker wasn't undeserved.

And the blade techniques that had earned him the nickname? He hadn't even used them.

So, Enkrid had been overwhelmed. He lost. It was a defeat.

But did that dishearten him? Not in the slightest.

I can catch up.

If one day of training wasn't enough, he'd train for two. If two days weren't enough, he'd train for a week. If a week wasn't enough, a month.

Given time, he believed he could close the gap.

It wasn't a matter of tactics, strength, or speed—it was purely a difference in skill mastery.

And Ki Swordsmanship was inherently that way. A peculiar, mystifying art.

"If you saw it, that makes it simple. Just read it all and counter," Rem said, his lessons hitting home once more.

Do I need to defeat him with the same skills?

Even if there's only one destination, there are many paths to reach it.

"Use your head for once."

Instead of fixating on running down a single path, Enkrid decided to widen his perspective.

Even if his body could handle it, he wouldn't let himself settle.

"You're Winning Me Over."

Rem grinned, a genuine smile that Enkrid found oddly pleasant.

It struck him then—he had disliked seeing Jevikal's grin. Perhaps Krais's assessment of the man was accurate after all.

When Enkrid returned, blood still dripping, Esther let out a sharp, disbelieving cough.

The expression on her face said it all: I sent you out perfectly fine this morning, and now you're like this?

Hmm, how does her nagging somehow feel worse than Rem's?

It was fascinating, really.

Rem chuckled at the sight. "Hey, leopard mage, you might as well get used to it. This guy's going to be like this forever."

The black leopard mage didn't bother replying. Instead, Ragna quietly asked, "Did you have fun today?"

Enkrid nodded.

His injuries this time were too severe to shake off in a single day, but for Dunbakel, who watched over him, even his recovery speed was astonishing.

"Three days?"

"I'm fine now."

Was she going to be surprised every time he got back on his feet? Enkrid wondered as he started moving again.

Word was that Jevikal's group was still staying at the marketplace inn.

Who will I face next?

The anticipation made his heart race, pushing his feet forward.

Though his arm hadn't fully healed, his other arm was fine, the salve Jaxen had given him was effective, and Audin had secretly infused him with divine energy.

It wasn't visible, nor was it strong enough to glow, but it had accelerated his recovery. Without it, even with his regenerative ability, he should have been bedridden for over a week.

Jevikal, meanwhile, was seething.

The urge to kill was boiling inside him.

Should he head out into the night and slit a few throats?

After two days, the wounds from his fight with Enkrid had scabbed over, and just looking at them stoked his frustration.

Unable to hold back, he began to move, only to be blocked by the half-giant.

"Stop, little human."

"Hmm?"

"I said stop."

"What for?"

Feigning ignorance, he smiled, but the half-giant didn't budge.

From a table in the inn's first-floor tavern, another man glanced over—a rapier fencer.

"Jevikal, you're with the Black Blades, right? Always clinging together, squawking like crows. Knock it off. You're making life harder for everyone staying here."

"What are you even talking about?"

Jevikal smirked and feigned innocence, but neither the half-giant nor the fencer replied. Yet, leaving while being ignored felt awkward.

"I just wanted a night walk," he muttered, retreating up the creaking wooden stairs.

Once he was gone, the rapier fencer sipped his drink while the half-giant stood lost in thought.

Whatever they were thinking remained a mystery.

"Why haven't you fought the giant?" the fencer suddenly asked.

"She's not my target," Jevikal replied.

Though he was also curious about Audin's abilities, his answer sufficed for now.

The rapier fencer nodded.

Their conversation was interrupted by Edin Molsen's escort descending the stairs, the wood creaking under their steps. Both men instinctively glanced upward.

The escort walked past without a word and stepped outside.

Jevikal, who had lingered long enough to notice, asked, "Why'd you let that guy go?"

"He won't cause trouble."

"And me?"

"You will."

The rapier fencer's answer came without a moment's hesitation, leaving Jevikal momentarily stunned.

Should I just kill this guy?

But he hesitated, ultimately backing down.

Though he wasn't bedridden, he was still recovering, and both the fencer and the giant had already seen his swordplay.

It wouldn't be fair unless he got to see theirs, too.

And soon, fate aligned with his desire.

When Enkrid returned to the inn, it was the rapier fencer who stepped forward.

"Looks like it's my turn now."

"Fine by me," Enkrid replied calmly, indifferent to who his opponent was.

Watching this, Jevikal felt a pang of irritation.

That guy's eyes—why do they have to be so damned earnest?

Regardless, Enkrid squared off with the rapier fencer.

This time, the fight was clean and evenly matched. Neither sustained serious injuries.

Or rather...

What is this guy even here for? Jevikal thought, a faint smirk forming as he observed.

He could see the motives of most of the people accompanying Enkrid. He even recognized the identity of the towering female warrior but chose to feign ignorance.

The rapier fencer, however, was different.

Through their duel, it was clear—he wasn't here for his own benefit.

He was teaching Enkrid.

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