CHAPTER 58

Once, even the desire to be greedy was not permitted.

Dreaming and hoping, yet knowing that it was unattainable, living a life of mere struggle.

That was Encrid's life.

But not anymore. Now, he could show his desire and go after it.

No, in fact, it was more advantageous now.

After warming up with some exercises, it was time to learn how to throw a knife from Jaxon.

"I want to learn more."

"It seemed like you were a beginner."

Jaxon muttered after watching Encrid throw a knife. Encrid replied nonchalantly.

"There was a guy on the battlefield who threw like this. I watched and learned."

Jaxon stared at Encrid with a blank expression.

"Believe me, it's true."

"Is that so?"

Of course.

Isn't that what genius is like?

Throughout his life as a dullard, he had seen countless times what geniuses or those with talent did.

Now, he pretended to be like that, acting as if he were a genius.

It was something he could do because he repeated it daily.

Revealing one's desire meant that it was advantageous to maintain such an attitude.

What are geniuses like?

They would not hesitate to express their desires, knowing that what was before them was something to be seized.

Above all, he was sincere.

When it came to the desire to learn, Encrid was the best on the continent.

"Fine."

It's always the same. The hesitation is brief, followed by seriousness. Jaxon taught properly.

It was quite an interesting time.

Encrid repeated how to grip and throw the knife.

In a short time, he was drenched in sweat.

"Didn't you say you had to go on duty?"

"It's fine."

It's just a warm-up, not to the point of overexertion.

Today began again.

No, to be exact, it was the seventh 'today'.

Instead of walking with Jack and Bo on either side, Encrid walked on the far left.

"I have to stand on the far left, it's a superstition."

Encrid insisted, and there was no way around it.

Jack and Bo had nothing to say.

"Is that so? That's quite peculiar."

"Yes, stand where you're comfortable."

Though his sweat quickly cooled, the warmth inside his body remained.

Even though it was the seventh repeat of today, the air felt strangely different.

The sunlight pierced through the cold wind and touched his skin. The chirping of winter birds brushed his ears.

He enjoyed the feel of the soil underfoot and the resonance of the ground with each step.

The air, the ground, the soil, the wind.

All of it enveloped, brushed, warmed, lingered, and flowed past his body.

The sky was clear too.

The biting cold wind, signaling the end of the year, as winter, the fourth season, arrived, brought with it a chilling breeze.

But even that wind brought a refreshing feeling more than the cold.

In the repeating today, he had always endured with fierce intensity.

But somehow, today, he felt a bit less tense. A calmness enveloped him.

That didn't mean he had forgotten his intensity.

It was just comfortable. The path he was walking now, this moment, everything.

'Why is my mind at ease?'

He didn't know. Knowing he would die soon.

Despite the approaching moment when he would have to struggle to face that pain and death.

Even though dying repeatedly never became familiar like it was the first time every time.

"When you throw, it's in an instant, but before that, relax your entire body. Let your body go limp and focus in a state of calm. It will be difficult."

Jaxon's words were only half right.

It was difficult, but not to the point of giving up.

It was difficult, but doable.

Boldness, a gift from the Heart of the Beast.

Boldness allowed him to see everything through to the end, even in the face of death.

Focus Point, intense concentration, made him perceive the same situation differently than ever before.

Thus, the combination of boldness and concentration allowed Encrid to grasp the edge of talent.

Ordinarily, he would not have been able to gain such boldness or concentration, but now Encrid had both strings.

'It works.'

Just a few teachings and a few repetitions.

After only three or four repetitions, it became ingrained in his body. Luck played a significant role.

What he should not have been able to grasp even after countless repetitions was now in his hands.

That thin thread was an immense joy to Encrid.

It was an unprecedented euphoria.

"Are you okay?"

Bo asked from the side. Walking with a dazed face and then grinning, he couldn't exactly be said to be in a normal state.

It was a relief he wasn't drooling.

"Ah, um, I'm fine. Made a fool of mysfairy."

Encrid walked, unnecessarily wiping his mouth.

Watching his cheerful steps, Jack and Bo exchanged glances.

Jack signaled with his eyes.

'That guy seems a bit crazy, doesn't he?'

'I think so too.'

They conversed only with their eyes and gestures. It was a familiar routine.

It was a signal they had used since their days in the thief guild.

"The weather is nice."

Encrid said.

"It's cold enough to die."

Jack said, pouting his lips. Normally, they would need to boost their opponent's confidence to induce carelessness, but their opponent was already too relaxed before they could even attempt any tricks, which naturally provoked resistance.

What on earth was this guy?

"Of course, it's cold. It's the last season of the four."

Winter is harsh. But one should not be fooled by the harshness and cold into missing the warmth.

Relaxing the body isn't something that can be achieved simply by repeating it in one's mind.

Jaxon's demonstration resurfaced in his mind.

Overlaid with the image of a half-fairy assassin.

To relax the body, the mind must first be relaxed.

Mental burden, threats, and anxiety.

Encrid threw them all away.

In his relaxed mind, he repeatedly envisioned the scene of the half-fairy throwing a whistling knife.

It was essentially no different from today's repetition.

What can be learned from defeat?

What have I learned in countless situations where my life was on the line?

The stage where I must sacrifice my life to gain something has passed.

He endlessly repeated questions to himself. Thanks to his moderately relaxed body and mind, his steps were somewhat wobbly.

He walked, but without the strictness required for patrol duty.

As he walked, he found himself in the market.

"Hey, Squad Leader, what's making you so happy?"

Jack stopped and asked. He probably wasn't genuinely curious. As he asked, he subtly shifted his body.

Bo also took a step. Both moved to positions where they could apply pressure.

They maneuvered to obscure the view and be ready to draw their blades and stab Encrid at any moment.

Encrid, keeping both in his sight, took a single deep breath.

Then he extended his leg.

He lightly tapped Jack's shin with the tip of his foot.

He thought his body and mind were relaxed, yet his body moved more freely than ever.

It was a kick with an uncanny timing, leaving the opponent unable to react.

Smack.

"Ouch!"

Jack doubled over in pain. Encrid, with a light and almost cheerful motion, pressed the back of Jack's head with his left hand and raised his knee.

Thud!

The sound of dough being slapped echoed. Jack's head snapped back up. His face, now a bloody mess with a broken nose, was visible.

"Damn it, I can't give you that price!"

He was a step ahead of schedule. It was a move separate from today's planned actions. It wasn't intentional. He just moved as his body directed.

'Does it matter?'

Encrid didn't care.

It was as if he had taken a drug that induced euphoria and made his mind hazy.

Even if he had actually taken such a drug, it wouldn't matter. His body felt that light.

"What the!"

Bo exclaimed in surprise. Encrid's hand was already reaching for Bo's nape.

"Tch!"

Bo jerked his neck back in surprise. It was expected.

Bo always reacted in the same pattern when caught off guard.

Having seen that pattern more than five times, Encrid was familiar with it.

Instead of extending his left hand, Encrid planted his left foot on the ground and twisted his body in the opposite direction.

Using his left foot as a pivot, he spun around.

Rather than facing forward, he turned to the side and extended his right hand.

In an instant, the reach of his arm extended, and his right hand touched Bo's retreating face.

It didn't end with just a touch.

Bang!

The punch created a sound like a leather drum bursting. With strength, speed, and concentration, Encrid's heated punch broke Bo's face.

"Ugh!"

Bo clutched his face and staggered back a few steps.

Watching that, Encrid smoothly turned his body. Was it because he started a bit early? He didn't know.

Just because today repeated didn't mean the same things always happened.

Everything could change.

Encrid knew that very well.

Where he was looking, he saw the half-fairy. The creature moved its hand without even taking off its rags.

From bottom to top.

A beam of light followed its right hand.

He hadn't prepared a specific means of defense.

But

'Does it matter?'

Time seemed to slow down.

It was the second time Encrid experienced this.

It was the moment when concentration broke the limits.

A time gap that those within the realm of genius face countless times.

When he dodged the blow of the mustached soldier in the final battle with Aspen, a similar sensation shone through.

It was the same now.

Of course, Encrid didn't realize it.

His mind was still half-entranced.

His entranced mind, his burning concentration, his razor-sharp senses, and the boldness of the beast.

He saw the beam of light. It allowed him to predict its destination.

'Can I dodge it?'

No. There was no time. The split second of time closed. Encrid's brain, spinning at high speed, produced an answer.

Thud! Squeal!

He blocked it with his arm. The blade embedded itself in his left arm, which was shielding his heart.

Just as he heard the whistling knife's noise, pain flared in his forearm.

A heavy impact and the searing pain from the blade.

The pain felt faintly distant.

The surrounding commotion sounded far away.

Seeing it made him want it.

Having it made him see.

Encrid's eyes could now trace the trajectory of the whistling knife.

That's how he blocked it.

He looked up and saw the enemy. The half-fairy, having discarded its rags, moved its hands ceaselessly.

It looked like a living rapid-fire crossbow.

No, it was fiercer than that.

He couldn't dodge the first one, but this time he could.

He saw the starting point of the hand and predicted the endpoint of the incoming beams of light.

Whoosh!

He dodged two perfectly, and one grazed his cheek.

The whistling knives' combined cries created a strange harmony.

Encrid, who dodged them all, pulled the knife out of his forearm.

Blood flowed from his forearm, but it wasn't enough to hinder his movements.

He hadn't been hit in a vital spot; he had blocked it with the part of his arm he intended.

Thanks to this, he had a cut on his arm, but it wasn't immobilizing.

The leather armor on his forearm also served its purpose.

"You bastard."

The half-fairy, furious, closed the distance. While closing in, it continued to unleash beams of light from hidden spots on its body.

He couldn't dodge them all.

No, he could have endured longer.

But today was different from other days.

Rotten approached from behind without him noticing. Encrid didn't realize it.

Rotten pushed Encrid's back.

Thud.

That was the end. Three knives screamed as they embedded themselves—one in the heart, one in the side, and one in the neck.

Terrible pain surged through him.

Encrid's body slowly collapsed. As he mustered his strength and dropped to one knee, something warm and thick gurgled up from his throat. Unable to hold it back, he opened his mouth and bloody foam spilled out.

Aaaaaah!

Only then did the surrounding screams hit his ears properly.

His hazy mind returned to its original state. The pain became vividly real.

The half-fairy assassin approached the fallen Encrid.

His expression was not pleasant.

"You."

He uttered a single word but did not continue.

A persistent hunter never loses its prey.

It was his turn to say those words, but he didn't. No, he couldn't.

The assassin's eyes fixed on Encrid's face.

"You bastard."

His eyes glared with fury like a poisoned toad.

Encrid was smiling.

"Ha-ha."

Even as he spat out bloody foam, he laughed.

This was bound to cause a misunderstanding.

The fairy felt mocked, but Encrid had no such intention.

Dying, he reflected.

'Just seven times.'

He had repeated 'today' seven times.

Yet, not only had he found a breakthrough, but he had seen beyond it.

Just seven times.

No, he couldn't call it 'just'.

Without knowing despair and frustration, he had only looked forward to tomorrow, enabling him to achieve this.

Meager talent created a human who relentlessly strove.

Endless effort allowed this human to grasp the edge of talent.

It was a miracle. No, miracles didn't exist.

This was merely the reward for not harboring despair and hopelessness in any of the repeated todays.

In another 'today', when he would rise again.

Encrid believed he could end this.

"You crazy bastard."

Thud!

The fairy thrust his extended blade through Encrid's neck once more at point-blank range.

That was the end. The moment of death.

Death approached, and darkness enveloped the world.

Beyond the darkness, he saw the ferryman on the river.

Hehe!

The ferryman laughed at Encrid once again.

Encrid was very curious about how the ferryman would react the next time they met.

How would that mocking laugh change?

* * *

"Good morning."

He opened his eyes to a new morning.

Encrid got up easily.

It wasn't perfect, but he had learned how to throw the whistling knife.

Also not perfect, but he had learned the basics of monk exercises from Audin.

"It's cold enough to die, what's making you so happy?"

"I had a good dream."

A very, very good dream.

It had been a day spent in a hazy state of mind.

That day, that 'today'.

Encrid had glimpsed the life of someone with talent.

He was more than satisfied.

At the same time, he saw the path forward.

The path ahead, the way to overcome the wall that blocked his way.