CHAPTER 148

Ten days after the retreat.

On this day, even within the Border Guard, flowers began to bloom. It was a full-fledged spring.

In the meantime, it rained once.

Along with the news that the battlefield cleanup was in full swing, a series of victory reports continued to come in.

In the end, word came that the Duchy of Aspen had requested peace.

It was said that Naurillia had seized part of the territory of the Duchy of Aspen, soon to take over the Green Pearl Plains.

Though this land had remained barren so far, it would take a lot of effort to cultivate it.

A victory was a victory, and this one was a great victory.

Cheers echoed at the end of the battlefield.

With the arrival of spring, the number of people intoxicated by magic increased.

In such uplifting days.

Encrid's last ten days were consistent.

Nothing to change, nothing changed.

Buzz, the sword swung.

"Brother, it's not there yet. Hold your posture and sit straight. Straighten your back, inhale, and feel the pressure in your abdomen. If the pressure is released, your back will break."

Audin chuckled as he spoke.

Strengthening the body with a method that was close to a trick, such as sitting up and down with Audin on his back, was also a daily routine.

Sword, training, sparring.

Time focused solely on these three things.

Whether others were excited or not was of no concern to Encrid.

Krais wandered around everywhere, but Encrid had no such thing.

In the rank of Platoon Leader, recognized as an independent platoon, and perhaps due to his influence in the previous battlefield, there was no duty.

It was ten days solely devoted to rest.

Of course, for Encrid, it was ten days immersed in training.

However, there was a change.

"Whew!"

Nearby, among the soldiers belonging to the unit, those who knew and fought with Encrid had a different attitude.

All of them were busy wielding their spears from early morning. This tendency had been visible for some time, and now the number of soldiers engrossed in training had increased significantly.

They all sweated and were genuinely dedicated to wielding their spears and strengthening their bodies.

There was also another change.

"Excuse me, can you give me some guidance?"

Among the soldiers, some began to seek out Encrid.

"Me?"

He was in the middle of a break, sweating and swinging his sword.

Encrid pointed to himself with his finger and asked back.

It made sense. It was an unimaginable scene.

Him, teaching someone? Guidance?

Considering his past life, Encrid's life hadn't been easy enough to say such a thing.

He had never looked beyond the path of learning and progressing.

Especially teaching.

Could there be a word that didn't suit him as much as that?

"Give it a try."

Rem, who had been watching from the side, said.

He seemed to have been watching even though he looked like he was dozing off.

Encrid nodded.

He had been thinking of trying it anyway.

Right in front, he saw the eyes of the soldier looking at him.

That earnestness, the longing and thirst that still burned within him, he saw in the soldier's eyes too.

Ting.

Encrid shook his sword and struck the tip of the soldier's spear.

The soldier holding the spear flinched and his shoulders trembled.

How skilled was he?

From what he had learned from Audin, he could tell by the posture and the level of physical training.

The soldier seemed to be somewhat skilled.

"Lower-ranked soldier, Pollid."

The soldier spoke.

Encrid listened with one ear and let it pass through the other.

He simply focused. He didn't treat it lightly. Concentrating and observing the opponent.

That was his best, and he believed it was the only thing he could do.

The soldier, Pollid, swallowed nervously and took his stance.

Left hand forward, right hand back.

A stance specialized for thrusting, with his feet crossed front and back, he shouted "Hah!" as he thrust his spear.

Whoosh.

He seemed to be a somewhat trained soldier.

Encrid watched the incoming spearhead carefully.

Seeing and reacting, his body moved. Even if he hadn't mastered it perfectly, the skill that flowed naturally was his Sense of Evasion.

He twisted his body to the side, extending his left arm, and caught the spear shaft from below, with his palm facing up.

"Eek!"

The soldier reflexively pulled the spear back.

Seeing the veins in his neck, it was clear he was using all his strength.

Encrid grabbed the spear shaft, pivoted on his left foot, and turned inside the spear's arc.

It was as if he grabbed and turned with his left hand while spinning.

Planting his right foot on the ground, he pulled the spear shaft with his left hand, using his body as leverage. No extraordinary strength was needed.

Just a bit of technique and a moderate amount of strength.

Tap.

Lightly, he brought his sword down from above.

The sword, without lethal intent, tapped the top of the soldier's head.

Of course, it was the flat of the blade, not the edge.

Feeling the sword on his hair, the soldier opened his mouth in surprise.

"Ah."

"It seems to be over."

"Oh, yes."

When Encrid released the spear shaft, the soldier awkwardly gathered his weapon and stood there, embarrassed.

"Well, is there something I'm lacking?"

What did it mean to be a somewhat experienced soldier?

It was like saying he had some confidence in his skills.

But he asked Encrid such a question?

What was Encrid like before, back when his squad was known as the crazy platoon and he was the troublemaker?

He seemed to have been the one everyone laughed at.

But now, someone was asking him such a question?

Looking closely, the face wasn't unfamiliar.

They had crossed paths a few times before. The battlefields so far hadn't been easy, so the soldier in front of him could be called a veteran.

He also wore the insignia symbolizing a Squad Leader.

What could it be? What was this?

Encrid looked at him with curiosity.

The soldier, despite his embarrassment, waited patiently. Encrid saw the soldier's eyes again.

Earnestness, longing, and thirst.

There was a glimpse of desire for something unattainable.

It was like the longing coiled within him.

He couldn't ignore it.

To be honest, he could see what the other needed after just one sparring session.

"It would be good to build up your strength."

The spear was heavier than it looked. For such a weapon, the soldier lacked strength.

"Um, yes, thank you."

The Squad Leader saluted. Encrid nodded in response.

After that day, the Squad Leader dedicated himself to strength training, lifting heavy objects to build muscle.

His squad members did the same.

It was said that a wave of strength training and training swept through the unit.

Wasn't this a unit that had just returned from the battlefield?

Wasn't it time to celebrate the victory?

Of course, many went to the city to unwind.

Some just drank heavily day after day.

Some of them probably thought that spending the day in the red-light district was better than training for the future.

Encrid didn't particularly criticize them.

What did it matter to him?

He was just a Platoon Leader, the leader of an independent platoon.

At the moment, he couldn't even step onto the battlefield where lesser Knights were active.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't curious about their battles.

However, his mindset remained the same.

If he could see his destination, there was no need to look around while walking his path.

If it were a battle involving Sir Cyprus, it might have been different.

A true Knight, one known across the entire continent—how would it feel to see that?

He felt he would want to see it.

Who knows? You can only know things when they happen.

"Is it fun?"

Rem, who had been watching indifferently, asked with a slight smile instead of laughing.

Fun? He didn't really know.

"I don't know."

As always, he answered honestly.

Rem finally laughed.

Encrid immersed himself in training again.

In that time of immersion.

"Can I have a turn as well?"

Another person approached, suggesting a sparring session. After a quick bout, Encrid gave a piece of advice.

"Your footing is stiff."

Another person approached for another sparring session.

"You should relax your shoulders."

Another piece of advice.

After a few more sparring sessions.

"Um... can I...?"

He asked without any clear subject, but there was no need to ask what he meant.

His eyes burned with intensity as he asked, and his cautious demeanor revealed signs of nervousness.

He had a relatively youthful face, probably around Andrew's age or maybe even younger.

"Well, sure."

No one among the platoon members stepped in to stop him.

Usually, didn't he always have something to say to those who approached him? He used to pick fights unnecessarily.

Why was he just letting it slide now?

Most of the soldiers were equipped with spears.

If someone used a different kind of weapon, it could mean that they belonged to a special unit.

The soldier facing him held a battle hammer the length of his forearm. The end of the hammer was round and polished, indicating it wasn't a weapon used for just a day or two.

It didn't look heavy, but it was clearly an efficient weapon.

As he twirled his wrist, it was clear that he had mastered the technique.

"I'm with the Border Guard."

Sure enough, as the soldier spoke, Encrid nodded indifferently.

The soldier's eyes gleamed as he twirled the battle hammer by twisting his wrist.

To Encrid, the soldier's intentions were all too obvious.

Perhaps he had grown too accustomed to the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

The opponent's tactics and tricks were plain to see.

Tap, tap, tap!

As the soldier swung the hammer with all his might, he abruptly switched to holding it with one hand and brought it down vertically.

Dodging was the right move rather than blocking.

Following the soldier's intention, Encrid stepped aside, avoiding the trajectory of the hammer.

The soldier reached for his waist with his other hand.

Encrid grabbed the soldier's wrist before his elbow could fully extend.

"I can see it."

He said this as he realized what was happening.

The tactic was simple and clear.

The hammer was a distraction for a short-range dagger throw.

It was similar to the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

"Valen Mercenary Sword Technique?"

He asked.

The soldier nodded.

"You should refine your hammer-wielding technique more."

Encrid instinctively pointed out the soldier's weakness.

At the same time, he realized that this was advice he needed to hear as well.

Improving his hammer technique would help conceal the dagger better.

Avoid drawing attention to the dual blade technique from the start.

The soldier had ample talent.

It reminded him of the day that young kid put a hole in his stomach.

Back then, he had fallen without much resistance.

And now?

He recalled something one of the instructors had once said.

"Improving your skills starts with knowing where you stand."

Awareness.

Realization.

To move forward on a new path, one must first understand where they currently stand.

Sparring sessions and teachings continued, and many continued to seek out Encrid.

Each time, Encrid realized something new and advanced.

His steps were slow, but he didn't rush. Observing a soldier thrusting a spear hastily, he learned that haste was of no help.

There were also those who, amidst calmness, exhibited decisive action.

"I'm Ruth."

He introduced himself as a friend from the western part of the Border Guard.

He glanced at Rem as he spoke, but he didn't seem to pay him any mind.

Encrid defeated him as well. An easy opponent? No, a challenging one. However, Encrid had experienced so much that he found it easy to deal with him.

"You're strong."

Ruth exclaimed in admiration as he turned away. As he left, he looked only at Encrid, not at Rem.

As more people sought him out over the ten days, Krais began to impose order.

"There are too many. It would be better to sort them out. You know what happens if they disturb our leader, right?"

The weight of Krais' words had changed.

With Rem, Jaxon, Audin, and Ragna behind him, they were all nodding in agreement while looking at their Platoon leader.

How does one see where they stand?

They must look up, down, left, and right.

Only then can one see their position.

It was a moment that each of them had crossed at some point.

In fact, Encrid was somewhat late to this realization.

With spring here, he was thirty-one.

By continental standards, he could be considered an old mercenary.

Though there were plenty of people who continued to fight past forty.

No one could do it quite like Encrid.

That's why there was satisfaction in watching this man.

Audin found answers to his questions from the Lord in the Platoon leader.

Rem recalled fragments of his memories from the past.

Jaxon pondered what it meant to live as Encrid did and envisioned the future.

Ragna reflected on swords and people, ambition and life, Knights and the power they wield, realizing anew.

He realized that he too had taken up that path.

And he would continue to walk that path.

With a deeper conviction than ever, he realized the value the Platoon leader held for him.

A late-blooming genius.

That was the best way to describe Encrid.

Changing the surrounding soldiers, well, that was something separate from being a genius.

For the soldiers around him, especially those who didn't just dwell in today but had the will to move toward tomorrow, Encrid became a symbol of change.

He became an idol for those who wished to emulate him.

All of this was encapsulated in the command:

"All troops, line up."

Recognition Ceremony.

It became evident during the recognition ceremony.

Normally, the entire assembly of soldiers gathered in the bustling training grounds.

Everyone except a few soldiers on duty.

It was time to acknowledge the merits of those involved in the recent battles.

Who was the main figure of this gathering?

Everyone knew.

Marcus was different from the previous Battalion Commander.

With a few nobles seated in the back.

Marcus stood on the platform and began his speech.

"If I have to tell you who made the greatest contribution in the last battle, then that person's head wouldn't be good enough even as a helmet stand."

Marcus's loud and deep voice resonated with the soldiers.

His rough language and coarse words.

Some of the nobles who listened to Marcus on the platform frowned.

Wasn't this lacking in decorum?

However,for those who were the subject of his words.

It sounded different to the soldiers.

There was sincerity in his words.

Marcus, who had made up his mind, spoke with genuine feeling.

"I will call up the one with the highest merit. M-- no, Platoon Leader of the Independent Platoon, Encrid."

Everyone knew what the missing word 'M' stood for.

And someone walked up to the platform before the assembled troops.

A man walking with bare hands, drenched in sweat, came into the soldiers' view.

Even though the temperature was gradually rising, it wasn't enough to cause such sweating.

But no one questioned or looked at him with doubt.

Clearly, he had been swinging his sword numerous times before coming to this place.

That was the kind of person Encrid was.

One who proved himself by continually swinging his sword.

One who demonstrated his worth by pouring out what he had learned.

A person who never took anything lightly, a paragon of sincerity.

The crazy Platoon Leader, Encrid, walked towards the platform.

No one in the assembled training ground spoke easily.

In that peculiar silence, the heat surged.

For those who had experienced the victory on the battlefield, what kind of figure was Encrid?

He had become an idol for some.

He had become a hero for others.

That was who he was on the battlefield.

Marcus did not forget that.

On the platform, one man stood facing another.

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