Chapter 242 - Everyday Life Hasn’t Changed, But What’s Inside Has

"Why isn't he leaving?"

Edin Molsan wasn't an intimidating presence. At first, Enkrid wondered if he should really be hitting him like this, but as repetition dulled the impact, the situation shifted.

Rather than the fact that he was the Count's son, Enkrid respected the unwavering spirit of the man who kept challenging him, never giving up.

In other words, Enkrid found himself focused on pummeling him.

"Stop hitting too hard. Just enough."

Krais couldn't stand it anymore and spoke up.

"He keeps coming at me," Enkrid replied.

It wasn't just mindless hitting; this was a challenge that never stopped. How could he not take it seriously?

Enkrid couldn't afford to treat him lightly. Given the path Enkrid had walked, it would be more poisonous to act dismissively—doing so would only bring more dissatisfaction. Respecting the opponent was the easier and more comfortable choice, at least for him, based on his own views and methods.

"Here."

Again, Edin Molsan came forward with a wooden sword. He wasn't foolish enough to attack without thought.

At least now, he didn't use a real sword. Initially, Enkrid had knocked him down without drawing a blade, but that was no longer the case.

Now, Edin swung and stabbed with intent.

Enkrid never lost his manners.

To him, manners meant not disregarding the effort the other person had put into the challenge.

His manners looked like this:

Wham!

No mercy, just a solid hit to the head.

Crack!

With a scream, he struck Edin in the chest with a blow that nearly knocked him out.

"Brother!"

Eddin's younger sibling, watching in surprise, was startled—at first.

But as time went on, it became routine.

"Are you okay?" the younger brother asked, though his tone had lost its earlier concern.

Enkrid hadn't tried to kill Edin—if he had, he'd have done it already. If his intention was to break him, he'd have done so long ago.

How many times had they sparred by now? Over twenty?

"Wait, is he back again? The guy's got a sturdy body."

In a sense, Rem might have been Edin's nemesis. After all, he was the one who killed his brother.

But Rem didn't seem to care at all.

Indeed, his face was made of steel. Was this the nature of all barbarians?

It was an irrelevant question. The important thing was that Rem was Rem—a beast who wielded two axes with astonishing skill.

Enkrid was satisfied and pleased with Rem's abilities.

"My body's warmed up," Enkrid said.

A smile appeared on Rem's face at Enkrid's words.

"I'll say it again…"

"You could die?" Enkrid teased.

Even though his words were interrupted, Rem still smiled. His broad grin was met by Enkrid's response.

"You could die too."

"You know, I don't usually swear, but do you know what excites me the most? Smacking the hell out of the leader's face."

Enkrid agreed wholeheartedly—both mentally and physically.

He could deeply relate to that sentiment.

"We're alike."

"...Do you have a habit of slapping your own face?"

Enkrid's gaze fixed on Rem.

Rem, with his grey eyes, met Enkrid's blue ones.

Rem hadn't been idle either.

If Enkrid had learned the heart of a beast, Rem had learned something too.

Now, Rem's skill had grown tremendously. His mastery of tongue techniques, able to twist his opponent's emotions and bring heat to their heads, was a testament to that.

"Yeah. It's a bad habit of mine."

Rem frowned slightly at Enkrid's sudden admission.

"You're admitting it here?"

Above those who run, there are those who fly.

Ignoring the mental blows, countering the unexpected—this was the heart of verbal sparring.

"Are you just going to yap?"

The challenge of ending the verbal sparring brought Rem's axes down with a whoosh through the air. Again, two axes in his hands.

Their Madmen unit is already highly regarded and has acces to benefits. Asking for a new axe from the blacksmith as part of their supplies was nothing unusual.

What had changed was that, unlike before, Rem was now particular about the weight and balance of the axe he requested.

"We can't make it that precisely," the blacksmith said.

"Then, it can't be helped," Rem replied nonchalantly.

It seemed like he wasn't too concerned with the details, but the real question was what he would do with this changed axe.

Clink.

Enkrid thrust his sword forward and tapped the axe's blade.

"Stop wrecking my axe."

Rem muttered as he charged forward. His movements were so fast and bold that it felt like his body was growing larger.

It was a reminder.

The heart of the beast—whose was it originally?

If boldness and audacity were what counted, Rem was the top contender.

Enkrid drew his sword vertically, bringing it down with lightning speed.

A sharp cut through the air.

Screech.

The sound of the sword cutting through the air.

Rem's body blurred, and his axe, now speed-infused, glittered as it struck—one from above, one from below.

At first, Enkrid would've been hit by the axe, which had twisted like a whip.

He'd endured it, only to be struck by a flashing, deadly blow.

So now, what about this?

Thud!

Enkrid swung his sword up and down. The blade rippled like a wave, deflecting two strikes.

The Sword Technique: Wave Overturning.

He had seen it from a rapier master, refined through Shepherd Pell, and perfected in his battles against Rem.

Rem, however, was unfazed by the block. The moment it was blocked, he tossed an axe into the air. Then, with only one axe in hand, he charged forward.

Unconventional, daring.

Strange yet bold.

That was Rem. To put it simply, Enkrid lost.

"That was close."

"Really?"

"Rival."

Was he supposed to be satisfied with those words? Should he be?

No, there was no need. Enkrid had learned something new today.

To be exact, he had realized what he lacked.

From the feel of the blade to the sixth sense, to the sense of evasion.

As Jaxen said, it was "sensory artistry."

He had diligently honed it, but that very thing had become his downfall.

'Too sensitive.'

He had paid too much attention to the axe Rem had tossed. Should he have ignored it?

In the end, the axe dropped from above, and Rem used his foot to accelerate it, striking his shoulder.

'Choice and focus.'

It was a review. Reflecting, realizing.

A familiar process.

It was Enkrid's daily routine. The only difference now was his increased capacity to learn.

It was similar to when he first realized what talent was. Heart of the Beast, sensory artistry, pinpoint focus, and isolation technique had been the same then.

Now, it was no different.

'Rejection.'

A mere rejection, but he had experienced 'Will.' That experience gave Enkrid a fresh perspective.

What is genius? It's impossible to explain. To them, everything is natural. It felt as if he had obtained a part of that naturalness.

Even now, after his defeat, the process of reviewing, realizing his mistakes, and identifying what was needed had sped up, unlike before.

But Enkrid was unaware of it.

He simply continued doing what he always did.

Of course, it was apparent to everyone, including Rem.

'Will.'

That reckless captain, has 'Will.'

'Really.'

The chick who didn't know when it would die had now become a bird with a steel beak.

No, perhaps it was better to call him a beast.

Rem, hiding her admiration, spoke.

"The bastard son of that spoiled Count, he's got something going on. If he keeps acting like that, there's a reason behind it."

"I see."

Already submerged in his own thoughts, Enkrid didn't pay it any mind.

Even if he had heard it, he would have ignored it.

Hadn't everyone said something like that?

"That brother is hiding something."

Audin had said it too.

Jaxen had cast a dubious glance, and Krais had come up with a few hypotheses.

"Why is he here? I'd say there are two reasons. One is that the Count might be eyeing the captain, and the second is that he's trying to find the captain's weaknesses."

Krais had actually felt something similar from Edin Molsan's gaze. It was a look of surveillance, or perhaps, exploration.

Enkrid agreed with part of it.

Edin Molsan's guard had shown similar signs, but to Enkrid, what mattered was not the guard's gaze.

'Should I pull him out?'

The guard had never shown his full strength. Sometimes, his eyes glinted dangerously, and Enkrid had expected something from it.

But he had restrained himself. He hadn't gone further. He hadn't revealed all his abilities. He hadn't escalated the tension to a dangerous level.

"That bastard knows what he's doing."

Rem said the guard had stepped into 'Will' as well.

So, he was at least on par with Enkrid.

Anyway, the guard had since refused any further sparring requests.

"I'm just Edin Molsan's guard."

Then, why did he challenge him before?

A test. A check. A gauge.

'For what?'

Enkrid briefly wondered if he should figure it out.

There was no need for that.

So, he ignored it. Even if Edin Molsan looked at him with strange eyes, he ignored it.

Even if his brother stared at him with odd eyes, he ignored it.

Even if the guard hovered occasionally, he ignored it.

When Jaxen was bothered by something, he subtly suggested removing it, but Enkrid ignored that too.

However, if Edin Molsan requested a spar, he would face him seriously.

Months passed since Edin Molsan had stayed at the estate, and the weather had grown cold enough for the word "snow" to be whispered.

Changes had occurred during that time.

"I'm wandering Teresa."

The half-blood giant muttered to herself often.

During the day, it seemed fine.

It looked like a resolution or reflection.

However, when she said it in her sleep, it was a mumble drenched in cold sweat.

When Audin heard such mutterings, he quietly placed his hand on her forehead.

"May you sleep like settled ashes."

The god of war, the embodiment of burnt ashes, was who she prayed to.

It seemed an odd sight, but Teresa didn't express any discontent upon waking.

When she woke up, she simply blinked and gave Enkrid a final glance before falling back asleep.

It had become a familiar routine.

There were many other changes in their daily lives.

Dunbakel had decided to do something else instead of taking blows from Rem, due to Rem's insistence.

"I should be paid for my teachings."

Rem argued that since she had taught Dunbakel, now she should be compensated.

Dunbakel didn't say that she hadn't wanted any of it.

In fact, when speaking to Enkrid, she said:

"What is that savage?"

It was a difficult question to answer.

'A madman? A broken head? A noble murderer? Axe murderer? Crazy axe-wielder?'

Too many possibilities came to mind.

Fortunately, Dunbakel didn't wait for an answer.

"I've improved."

When Enkrid personally sparred with Dunbakel, he realized that what she said was true. She wasn't insulting Rem, but genuinely curious.

"You've improved."

When her thigh was harshly struck with a sword blade, Dunbakel would tear up and nod.

"Alright."

It had been a long time. Was it typical for beast-women to be like this?

Or was it the legend of golden eyes?

It was hard to tell. He didn't care either way.

Enkrid noticed Dunbakel's gaze and looked her way. He saw the golden eyes.

She was now thinking of Enkrid as a monster.

Having endured Rem's violence, she felt confident she could defeat her old self, even if she had two of them.

But Enkrid had gone even further in the meantime.

'A genius.'

She was mistaken, but it wasn't entirely her fault. Anyone would think the same.

More importantly, 'Will,' even if only in part, 'Will.'

She had realized it.

Willpower, something reserved for knights, and those with knightly strength.

That change had descended upon Enkrid.

Ragna, seeing this, realized it was time to fill his own deficiencies.

He had been aware of them before, but lacked the motivation to address them.

Now, Ragna acted on it.

"Krais, I want a double-edged sword."

"If you want it, I'll get it for you. Seems like you've got the right idea."

Krais, who had counted the weight of the purse Ragna handed him and the number of silver coins inside, maintained his loyalty to Krona.

Ragna now had a sword in hand.

It had no sharp edge, and its size and shape were similar to that of a bastard sword, but it was several times heavier than a normal sword.

With the sword in hand, Ragna slowly began to swing it.

There was no speed. Unskilled, yet dutifully, he performed every motion slowly. He spent more than half of his waking hours doing so.

It was a great development, and anyone who knew Ragna would be astonished.

Enkrid, who had spent most of his waking hours training, saw the change in this human.

The embodiment of laziness.

It hadn't even been half a day, but seeing Ragna train like this was an odd sight.

Anyway, returning to the present, Rem had requested Krona from Dunbakel.

Dunbakel agreed without complaint.

"Get me some Krona."

Lately, there had been a growing number of monsters and creatures lurking nearby.

It was winter, after all. It was expected.

When food became scarce, such things would inevitably become more aggressive.

"It looks like it's going to snow," Krais remarked, cutting Ragna's hair.

Enkrid silently looked at the sky. The dull, gray clouds were slowly creeping across the sky, obscuring the sunlight.

It would be cold enough soon for the devil's excrement to fall from the sky.

Well, last year around this time, he had struggled to clear the snow.

Now, though…

"Training unit, assemble!"

With that single command, it was enough.

Life continued after the rapier master had left.

The routine hadn't changed, but the things inside it were starting to shift.

Edin Molsan had become a long-term resident, and in the meantime, his guard had left, citing some business to attend to.

There was no farewell, no parting words.

Winter was on the cusp, with the first snow likely to fall soon.

Dunbakel had gone out on a quest to eliminate monsters.

Finn had been wandering outside for some time and had recently moved from the independent unit to the fairy unit's command.

"Can I go now?"

She seemed more lively leaving than when she had arrived. Should he be relieved?

"Go ahead."

Enkrid responded indifferently.

There was no reason, nor any need, to stop her.

Teresa entered, and Finn left.

It wasn't a day when things changed, or was it?

"Independent unit commander, you're called!"

Late in the afternoon, despite the winter chill, Enkrid was sweating heavily as he swung his sword when a messenger arrived.

"They said it was urgent."

Enkrid immediately made his way to the battalion commander's office.

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