Chapter 183 - A Crazy Guy is Chasing Me With a Sword(3)

Luagarne didn't express disbelief.

In a situation like this, to suddenly say it's time for sword training—no matter how crazy someone is, this doesn't make sense. But then again, that's the answer, isn't it?

'Because it's that guy.'

It feels like it makes sense because it's Enkrid.

Soon, Enkrid, who had been trembling while holding the sword, put it down and retreated.

'Did he give up?'

Giving up once is easy. After the first time, it gets easier. If you retreat even once, the tutor will become an insurmountable wall.

That would be a critical weakness for Enkrid.

Luagarne watched him with concern.

"Showing another method would be troublesome."

Enkrid, muttering, didn't even catch his breath before grabbing the sword again.

'...?'

"Uh, well, the name of the squad led by our unit is 'Madmen's Squad.'"

Krais turned the statement around. No, at this point, it seemed like he was outright calling him a madman.

It was a commotion of sorts.

While Esther was still lying down, Enkrid grabbed the sword four more times and showed a light smile.

"This is it."

Then he swung the sword in the air. Luagarne realized by now that trying to stop him would be pointless.

What should I do now?

"Crazy bastard."

She couldn't help but admire him.

"That's not it."

The best thing was to teach him.

Enkrid welcomed Luagarne's guidance.

Winning a fight and mastering swordsmanship were separate issues.

Luagarne had rich experience and outstanding sword skills.

She could parry, strike, and read her opponent's intentions.

A conversation with a sword, an orchestra formed with the sword. Enkrid memorized what he had seen and was helped by Luagarne.

The evil spirit dwelling in the tutor's sword also had remarkable swordsmanship, but it was nowhere near as good as Luagarne's.

If only there had been a ring on this sword, something that would activate with just a touch of a finger, Luagarne might have been able to solve it.

Kraiss had tested it, and nothing happened just by touching the sword.

It needed to be gripped tightly. Only with a certain amount of force.

So it was beyond Luagarne's ability.

Swish!

After a few more tries, it was the same.

"I can see it, but..."

There was too little time to do anything. After that, Enkrid was the only one who ever picked up the sword.

"It feels like things are going well."

Finn mumbled as she made camp. She took out the blanket from her backpack, peeled the hard cheese with a knife, and sliced it thinly.

Then, placing it on the hard bread she had sliced, the meal was ready.

"It's also my responsibility."

Krais, seemingly thinking of something, grabbed the sword once again.

And then he died. His body remained intact, but he suffered the mental exhaustion.

It happened when Enkrid wasn't holding the sword.

'Grrr...'

Krais fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth, but it was a pointless act.

Esther just slept, and naturally, their roles were defined.

Enkrid picked up the sword, then put it down and returned.

The Frog used that as a basis to teach swordsmanship.

Finn and Krais prepared the sleeping arrangements and the meal.

Esther ate, slept, and woke up.

There wasn't a proper place to relieve themselves, so everyone took care of it in a corner.

The curtain blocked down to the ground, but to some extent, they could still dig into the earth.

The place they dug out roughly resembled a half-sphere, with a slightly bulging bottom, like a prison.

They took care of their business in that space.

"We can go without relieving ourselves for over a week, if necessary."

Finn nodded, envious of the frog's words.

A full day passed.

Luagarne inwardly admired them.

She had many things she wanted to say, advice she wanted to offer.

So much that it almost felt like something was boiling up inside her.

The things she had been giving them along the way had been insufficient.

Normally, it would have been something she would summarize on the way back, but now, at this moment, the words she had were becoming unnecessary for Enkrid.

What did Enkrid need for the future?

She tried to answer that question, but...

'He's already on his way to finding the answer.'

Still, some advice would be necessary.

Krais kept his mouth shut, thinking it was his fault.

It had been an easy task, like picking up fallen silver coins, but suddenly they were trapped, unable to see even a step ahead.

His mind was busy spinning, trying to figure out how to escape this place.

Of course, the answer wouldn't come easily.

'He was blinded by the Krona.'

It was something that happened because he hadn't considered the worst-case scenario. Krais reflected on his mistake with regret.

As the situation started to change in strange ways, Finn completely let go of her thoughts.

She simply observed Enkrid.

'Even here, with the sword work.'

It was consistent, if you could call it that, but to surpass the role of a tutor, one had to continue with the sword work.

Still...

'I can't say he's normal.'

That's the thought that comes to mind when looking at Enkrid.

No, beneath his outstanding skills, there must have been this kind of madness.

Watching that, Finn felt something new filling her chest. A small or perhaps even bigger realization.

She had, at some point, set her limits and stopped.

All of that had been breaking bit by bit since meeting Enkrid, and today, she finally grasped the seed of some realization.

'Limits aren't set by me.'

Eilcaraz-style martial arts, her training as a ranger.

Had she ever tried to go beyond that? Why had she stopped?

'Everyone said it was the right way.'

But Enkrid was different. Without saying anything directly, through his actions, his attitude, and his approach to life, he was speaking a different message.

Finn quietly embraced a wave of emotions.

It was something she hadn't expected, but it was enough to make her close her mouth tightly.

Esther was lost in self-reproach.

'It was a pathetic curse. Something not even worthy of being called a curse.'

Something that couldn't even be called reaching the realm of a spell.

And yet, she didn't realize this and got trapped?

If she were the person she was before, the leopard, she should have immediately bitten her tongue and died in shame.

She didn't lack reasons.

From placing a spell on Enkrid's sword to continuously using her magic power to enhance her body,

Everything had been excessive.

Her body was bound by a curse, and the door to her magical world was shut, so she had been operating in a roundabout way.

All of those things came back to her, leaving a mark.

'Even so!'

How could she not have realized this?

It was because she had neglected the task at hand.

She had thought the journey back would be leisurely and didn't focus on recovery.

Esther needed time to recover the spent energy and lost stamina.

She didn't know what would happen next, but she wouldn't just sit back and watch.

Esther lay down. She buried her head and tried to take a light nap. Within a week, she thought she could recover enough magic to break this pathetic barrier.

Half asleep, Esther thought for a moment before drifting off.

The situation intertwined and the strange time passed.

"It's important to know what's lacking in yourself."

Even amidst this, Luagarne didn't hold back in her teaching.

This had nothing to do with the tutor's swordsmanship. It was simply teaching.

Fighting and winning were separate from the mastery of swordsmanship, and Enkrid was clearly feeling this as well.

Luagarne was a great teacher.

It was obvious that she was far better than any instructor from the school Enkrid had sacrificed Krona to.

"When playing card games, what happens if you don't hold the cards?"

It was Luagarne's words.

This was a perspective that Enkrid had never encountered before.

He was inwardly surprised by her words, and he was once again struck by how excellent of a teacher Luagarne truly was.

She wasn't just a teacher; she could give him the guidance that would help him set milestones.

"Basics, it's all about the basics."

"Whatever you do, you must first build up your body."

"If you don't know how to hold a sword, you can't lift it. If you don't know how to lift it, you can't swing it!"

"You have to open your eyes to move forward, but must you always keep holding the sword?"

"That's why all that's left is contemplation. Think it over, reflect on it. You'll burn the candle of life. Until it goes out, you must fuel your own body and keep burning. If you don't die, there's something to gain."

"Why not just farm? Must you really hold a sword?"

There were countless instructors.

They all said the same thing.

The basics are important.

And so, that's what they did. They focused on the basics.

They strained their eyes in effort, moved their feet quickly, and even when swinging the sword, they didn't do it carelessly.

Even so, they were often told the same thing.

They were told to farm.

"Why must you hold a sword?"

"If a guy sitting at a gambling table brings a bag full of silver coins, what should he have in his hands?"

At first, Luagarne tried to stop him and was baffled, but after a while, it seemed like she was enjoying the situation. Well, it could have been Enkrid's own misunderstanding.

It wasn't easy for a human to read a Frog's expression.

It was just an instinctive feeling.

"You can't sit at a gambling table without cards."

"Right, cards. You're just a fool sitting there with a pouch full of silver coins."

Silver coins were the basics. No one sits at a gambling table without at least a few coins. But no one sits with just a few coins either.

Somehow, after hearing those words, Enkrid couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.

"They said to lay the foundation."

That foundation, they said, had been laid. The slow development was frustrating, so Enkrid had once learned the Balin-style mercenary swordsmanship as a way to break through.

But, could the mercenary sword be that card?

"It works. But what's better is swordsmanship that's been honed over a long time. The Balin-style mercenary sword, in the end, is just too focused on one-sided attack methods. If all the cards in your hand are jokers, they're useless."

What a brilliant metaphor.

Jokers only shine when they're connected with other cards.

That's how the Balin-style mercenary sword was.

Jeong Junhwan's theory and Leonecis Oniak defined the branches of swordsmanship.

The people who came after them made swords based on those branches.

Even northern-style swordsmanship isn't just one thing.

It's the same for central continent-style swordsmanship.

Through the correct understanding and trial and error, combined with the talent one possesses, swordsmanship is created.

What Luagarne was talking about was one of those branches.

To be precise, it was the swordsmanship taught by a tutor.

"This is a magic sword, but what's inside it is real."

In fact, Enkrid had rarely learned any other style of swordsmanship apart from the basics.

It had all been superficial.

Luagarne once again emphasized the necessity of swordsmanship.

"If you properly learn a swordsmanship derived from the traditional sword style, it will feel like your opponent can read your every move."

This was something Enkrid had experienced many times already.

The evil spirit that lived within the sword was doing something similar.

"I see."

Enkrid nodded, still with the same fiery gaze. The torchlight reflected in his eyes, mixing the usual blue light with red, creating a glowing, intense look.

When it came to learning, Enkrid was unabashed in expressing his emotions. To Luagarne, that was fascinating.

'Truly a madman for the sword.'

Or rather, a "sword maniac," one might say.

Up until now, everything Enkrid had learned wasn't so much about sword techniques but rather the preparation required to handle a sword.

That was the crux of what Luagarne had said.

Enkrid realized this as he learned swordsmanship from his tutor.

"I'll just go grab some swordsmanship for a moment."

With a joke, he once again took hold of the sword. It was a cycle. So, rather than experiencing a real death, Enkrid would learn through a softer, more peaceful form of death.

To be honest, though...

'It's an easy and enjoyable task.'

For Enkrid, that was the case.

He grabbed the sword, and after swinging his body side to side for a short time, he returned.

He blinked his eyes and shook his head.

"Did you get hit again?"

"This time, both legs got cut off."

His tone was unnervingly calm, considering what he was saying.

"The final strike was supposed to be a downward slash, but somehow, it turned into a diagonal neck strike."

He had seen the process, so he understood it.

So, what was needed now?

Enkrid picked up the broken sword he had been using instead of a wooden training sword, still in its scabbard.

Luagarne's heart skipped a beat, unknowingly.

Her interest surged, and her cheeks puffed up in excitement.

"You are truly..."

What an incredibly fun guy.

Even the tutor couldn't limit him. No, look at this now; his mind had already surpassed that of the tutor!

That was the gist of what could be said. Teaching him new swordsmanship wasn't possible. That was because Luagarne was bound by a pact regarding it.

But guiding him through the swordsmanship he had already learned? That was entirely feasible.

And so, they did just that.

He entered and stole the technique, then immediately implemented it.

It was possible because he had perfect control over his body.

Afterward, Luagarne refined it for him.

Once he mastered it, he picked up the sword again.

This time, Enkrid casually mentioned that his fingers had been sliced off.

"Then he stabbed my neck, and the blade curved like a snake."

"It was a wrist snap," Luagarne replied.

Once again, Enkrid trained, and although his eyes felt like they were darkening from exhaustion, he remained indifferent.

He took breaks in between, of course. If you don't eat and drink, your body will break down.

While taking a short rest, Finn muttered as he stared blankly at the sword.

"This reminds me of an old legend. Something about drawing a sword and becoming a king."

Enkrid, who was also resting, overheard this.

Just drawing a sword and being made a king? It seemed like a pretty shoddy legend to him.

Isn't a king someone who holds power through politics and various other circumstances?

Legends and stories are often exaggerated, so it wasn't that surprising.

After that, Enkrid spent most of his time focusing on swordsmanship.

He had drawn and let go of the sword more than a hundred times.

It might have seemed like self-torture, but Enkrid was indifferent. The pain lingered in his body, but to someone who repeats this kind of day, the sensation felt weakened.

'It works.'

Enkrid felt joy again in learning swordsmanship.

It had only been a day and a half.

Instead of repeating death every day, he could now immediately engage in high-quality sword exchanges simply by holding a sword.

He didn't waste any time and immersed himself completely.

A brief but intense period passed.

And that was enough.

"It's done."

Those words came from Luagarne's mouth.

Was it thanks to the tutor?

No, it wasn't.

More than anything, Enkrid was different now. He was far from the person who once struggled with meager talent. He was a completely different person.

Enkrid reflected on all the "todays" he had experienced up until now.

In the process of reviewing and rethinking everything, how had he missed all that?

What had he gained from it?

It wasn't something simple to describe, but if Enkrid were to summarize it in two words, it would be:

"Talent."

In the midst of the group he had been playing with, his body had been ingrained with discipline.

From the heart of a beast to the instinct of evasion.

He had trained his body, increasing his strength, agility, and reaction speed.

He had also learned to fully control his body.

In that process, his courage, focus, and senses had been sharpened, supporting him in every action.

"You... what's this?"

Luagarne was surprised. To her, it seemed like Enkrid had gained a talent that wasn't there before.

And as he gripped the sword once more...

He soon felt the sensation of the slippery ground beneath him and the clang of metal approaching.

Clang!

The swords collided. What had changed was that now Enkrid could read his opponent's swordsmanship.