Sparring and Review

Crash.

Out of nowhere, lightning struck a clear sky, followed by a sudden downpour of rain.

"Ugh, this ruins the mood."

"Hmph."

Rem and Ragnar, who had been heatedly glaring at each other, now avoided each other's gaze.

This effectively ended their fight.

Both retreated to the tent to escape the rain.

It had been such a clear day, and now this sudden rain.

The weather was acting crazily.

It was late autumn, not the season for sudden showers.

A sudden rain from a cloudless sky was particularly rare.

"A sudden rain, huh."

Krais muttered as he watched the lightning and rain.

Encrid, also looking up at the sky, thought back on what had happened while he was away.

The curse, as expected, was nonsense.

"They'll probably say this rain is part of the curse too."

"Maybe. Anyway, in the last three days, Bowen tripped and broke his nose, Jack broke his arm, and Rotten got bitten by a snake."

All three were part of the reconnaissance team.

Bowen was agile enough to do somersaults, but doing that in armor meant he was lucky just to break his nose.

Jack was a loudmouth who overestimated his spear skills. He broke his arm during a spar, and Encrid would bet money that his opponent broke it on purpose.

Lastly, Rotten was notoriously careless for a scout. It wasn't snake season, but there were areas in the plains notorious for snakes.

So all three had reasons for their mishaps.

"And besides those three, someone burnt their hand on a pot."

One-Eye spoke with a tone that suggested he found it all amusing.

If he really believed it was a curse, he wouldn't be talking like this.

It was just gossip.

"And I heard the medical tent burned down. Weren't you there, squad leader? Didn't you hear anything?"

They're even calling the fire a curse?

"Yeah, I was there. It burned pretty well."

Krais, halfway into the tent, whipped his head around.

"You saw it? Did it really just suddenly catch fire? There's also talk of a spy."

Yeah. No.

'I did it.'

Encrid set the fire.

And a spy, while there was an attack, he doubted it was enemy soldiers.

He still didn't know Krang's exact identity, but he was probably a noble's bastard.

So the attacker was likely one of their own.

The curse, well, that was just nonsense.

Soon, the command would crack down on such rumors.

No commander likes rumors of curses spreading among the troops.

"Huh? Didn't you see anything?"

One-Eye pressed for details.

Encrid met his big eyes and thought for a moment.

Telling everything wasn't an option; Krais couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Even if he could, there was no reason to tell.

They agreed to keep it quiet, and that's what he'd do.

"The tent I was in burned."

"Huh?"

"Didn't know?"

"Not at all. So it wasn't enemy soldiers? Did it really just catch fire suddenly?"

"The watchman was dozing off, the wind knocked over the torch stand. There was an oil can next to it. The torch fell, and the tent caught fire."

Encrid made a gesture with his hand to show the flames spreading.

"Nothing special then."

"You don't think I almost died?"

"You're standing here just fine."

Is this concern or what?

"If I'm not alive and well, does that make me a ghost?"

Rem cut in from behind, laughing.

Is this guy joking?

"The Lord said, may the spirits rest in peace."

And the devout squad member performed an exorcism with words.

Encrid thought that if he were really a ghost, these words would be quite bothersome.

"My hair got a bit singed."

His bangs were a bit burnt, so he had cut them. His haphazardly trimmed hair showed signs of a rough job.

"Your hair is black, so it's hard to tell even if it's burnt."

Rem said, still laughing.

"Then is your hair just ashes?"

Rem's hair was gray.

"Oh, how'd you know? My hair is ash."

Does this guy find this genuinely funny?

Even though he was the only one laughing in the tent, he continued.

It was truly a passing shower; the rain soon stopped.

The conversation was brief.

As the rain ceased, Krais claimed he had things to do and left.

Encrid lay down in his spot, listening to the sound of raindrops dripping from the tent's edge as he fell asleep.

It was a sweet nap.

When he woke up, his headache was gone.

He felt no more fatigue.

Encrid stood up and twisted his waist from side to side.

No pain at all in his side.

Good. He felt refreshed.

The tent was empty.

Listening carefully, he heard people passing by the tent and the complaints of a soldier in the adjacent tent.

"What kind of rain starts and stops like that?"

Encrid pushed open the tent flap and stepped outside.

The squad members were scattered around in front of the tent, enjoying their personal time.

Jaxon and Krais were nowhere to be seen, as expected.

The rest were in their usual spots.

He approached Rem, who was scribbling something on the wet ground.

"You look like you have nothing to do."

"Does it look that way? You're right. I was just thinking about whose head to crack open out of boredom."

Picking fights with fellow squad members was one of Rem's specialties.

When the opponent fought back, beating them up was one of his hobbies.

Since Encrid's arrival, such incidents had lessened but hadn't disappeared.

"Then let's have a sparring match."

"Sparring?"

"Yeah, sparring."

Rem nodded readily.

This was nothing new.

Encrid's sparring requests were routine.

"Sounds good."

The two headed to the empty lot behind the tent.

Thanks to the crazy weather, there was no one around.

Even if there were, they wouldn't care.

Encrid stood ten paces apart from Rem.

Rem grinned, twirling his wrist.

The axe blade, sharpened whenever he had the chance, gleamed in the dry sunlight.

Despite the rain, the sky was now clear.

The air was humid, and the smell of earth filled the air.

The ground was damp but not muddy. It was soft and springy.

The clouds filtered the sunlight, making it not too bright.

"A good day for a fight."

"Is it?"

Encrid replied and awakened his beast's heart.

He spent his repeated days striving not to waste time.

Training his body and honing his hearing.

And using his mind.

'The Balren mercenary sword doesn't work.'

Having sparred with Rem numerous times, he knew.

The Balren mercenary sword was useless against Rem.

So what to do?

Considering his weapon, the opponent's presence, and his experience.

What kind of attack would be effective?

How to make it effective?

Time to test the answers to his questions.

Swish.

Rem stepped forward. His foot hit the ground with confidence, showing no hesitation.

Encrid thought so.

"Should I go first?"

Instead of answering, Encrid stole Rem's breath.

Inhale, exhale.

Rem's breathing was long and slow.

During the long exhale, Encrid closed the distance in an instant.

He advanced, pushing off his back foot.

As he closed the space.

Whoosh!

He swung his sword horizontally.

Rem leaned back to avoid the slash, predicting its range precisely.

Even while half-lying back, Rem's eyes never left Encrid.

Seeing this, Encrid instinctively pulled back his sword to block in front of him.

Whoosh.

Thud!

The axe hit the sword blade.

The impact wasn't great. No matter how strong, swinging from a lying position lacked force.

Still in that position.

Whoosh, whoosh!

The axe came down repeatedly.

Thud! Thud! Clang!

Encrid gripped his sword with both hands, blocking each strike.

He tried to stop and regain his stance, but Rem didn't let up.

Encrid felt like he was under a continuous guillotine.

The barrage ended when Rem fully stood up.

A brief opening appeared, but Encrid didn't retreat or adjust his stance.

Seeing Rem pull his arm back, Encrid instead.

Thrust!

Stepped forward and executed a thrust he had practiced countless times.

A thrust aimed at the opponent's abdomen, extending from the blocking stance.

Determined to land a hit.

Everything happened in an instant.

He thrust, and as the sword neared Rem's waist, Encrid saw the sky and Rem's face upside down.

'What?'

Encrid saw Rem's face inverted.

Whoosh.

At the moment of the thrust, Rem kicked Encrid's ankle.

A split-second decision.

The sword tip missed, slicing through the air.

Rem dropped his axe, grabbed Encrid's collar, and threw him sideways.

"Ugh!"

Rolling sideways, Encrid quickly realized what had happened.

A feint.

He had timed the axe pullback.

Using it against him.

"Hoo."

Lying sprawled, Encrid shook his head internally.

A tremendous strength.

Encrid thought he wasn't easily outmatched in strength, but to be thrown so easily with one hand.

Despite being relatively light without gear, it was a feat of brute strength.

Looking up from his position, he saw Rem's face.

A strange expression.

Rem usually smiled during sparring.

Not now.

His lips were straight, serious. He wasn't smiling.

"Hmm, have you been taking something good behind my back?"

Rem asked with a serious face.

It made sense.

Rem wouldn't remember the thrust training.

In the first "today," Encrid had only made him do meal duty.

"I thought before that your skills have improved significantly. Especially that thrust, it was good. Not bad at all."

"Really?"

"Yes. I don't give empty compliments."

"Yeah, right."

Jokingly dismissing it, Encrid shook his head.

"I mean it."

"Alright. Let's review then."

"...You're such a consistent person. How do you never change?"

Reviewing after sparring.

That was also a routine. Even if there was nothing to gain, Encrid always pursued the sparring partner for insights.

To learn and refine even the smallest details.

Often, the opponent had nothing to say.

You only offer advice if there's some improvement.

It had been like that so far.

So Rem would say things like, "Build some grit."

Meaningless? No. Rem knew the limits of those without talent.

To survive, you had to know what to work on.

That's why he taught him the beast's heart too.

But now?

Things had changed significantly.

The fact that he had much to say after this sparring proved it.

"First, you were too obvious waiting for my axe. Even if I'm not easily deceived, you should at least try to fake it."

Rem began.

Encrid nodded.

As always, he listened intently.

Rem chuckled.

Starting with the core issue and saving minor points for later was Rem's style.

Encrid absorbed every word.

There were no battles for three days, and in that time, Encrid sparred with Rem three more times.

"You should work on your lower body. Your balance is off."

Though Rem often spoke nonsense, he had a knack for hitting the mark.

Encrid reflected on and pondered over those words.

Then he threw himself back into training.

Even during personal time, he trained.

Everyone had their own way to spend personal time.

Some wrote letters.

Others focused on resting.

Encrid poured everything into training and drills, except eating and sleeping.

To others, it might seem extreme.

But for him, it was pure contentment.

The incremental improvement brought immense satisfaction.

Because of that, even the grueling physical training didn't feel burdensome.

"A persistent guy, back at it right after returning from the medical tent."

"Been quiet lately, now he's back at it."

"If I trained like that, I'd be a knight by now."

"Why are you spewing nonsense?"

While working his body and focusing on his hearing, the pain in his muscles faded.

Encrid heard the idle chatter of two soldiers from another tent.

They were from the same platoon but felt distant, like the 3rd squad.

He extended his hearing further.

He heard the sound of clothes rustling behind him and tried to guess the actions.

He tried to identify people by their footsteps.

He got five out of ten wrong, but familiar footsteps were recognizable.

Light and quick, with a brisk sound on the dirt.

'One-Eye.'

Correct.

"Training again? You're relentless."

Krais approached.

Encrid ignored him.

Repeating squats, his legs started to tremble.

Sweat trickled from his scalp, collecting on his eyebrows.

The sky, once capricious, was now clear, with a dry breeze.

Sweating this much in such weather wasn't normal.

Especially in a war zone.

Training amidst the uncertainty of battle.

Yet, it was their routine.

"Isn't that hard? Doing it every day?"

Krais asked, sitting nearby and chewing on jerky.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, falling to the ground.

A dull ache rose from his thighs. His muscles quivered, and nausea surged.

He had reached his limit.

Encrid, drenched in sweat, sat down.

Closing his eyes, he felt the cool breeze on his damp forehead and ears.

Today's training was complete.

He was enjoying the breeze when he heard strong footsteps.

The steps stopped behind him.

"Still working hard, I see."

He looked back, seeing a shadow cast over his face. The man was backlit, but the beard indicated who it was.

"Can we talk?"

It was the 4th platoon leader.