"Meat."
"How much would you like?"
"A lot."
Encrid finished enough food for twenty people all by himself right there. He was usually a big eater, but this was excessive even for him.
He mostly ate high-calorie foods. Beans, meat, and thick sauces.
Several soldiers who saw Encrid eating stared in disbelief.
Is eating like that part of training?
Seems like it.
Should we try it?
"Don't do anything foolish."
Bell, now a Commander, lightly tapped one of his soldiers on the head as he spoke. Trying to imitate what Encrid was doing would likely be a death sentence. Bell knew this.
When did he realize it?
Was it when he saved Platoon leader Vengeance? Even before that, he knew Encrid was no ordinary person, but after that, he thought he was truly remarkable.
Sure, saving someone on the battlefield could happen by chance, but rescuing a comrade from a burning tent when he might die—especially someone who disliked him?
Bell knew he couldn't do that.
While there was a bit of commotion, Encrid ate dinner like that too, and he continued eating the same way the next day. It was an enormous amount of food.
Rem, sitting next to him, looked at him with a gaze that asked, "What's wrong with this guy?"
"Are you planning to use your stomach like an ogre or a Giant?"
Ogres were notorious for their gluttony and cannibalism as monsters, and giants were simply famous for eating a lot.
Both had large bodies, so it made sense that they would eat a lot to maintain their size, but Encrid wasn't like that.
So it was only natural for Rem to say something like that.
"I just feel like eating a lot."
"Are you going somewhere?"
"No."
Why is he acting like this again?
Rem gave him a curious look but left it alone. If the guy wanted to eat, who was he to stop him?
Encrid kept eating like that for another four days. He ate well, relieved himself properly, and slept soundly.
Then, every morning and evening, he meticulously washed every part of his body.
"There's no fever."
At one point, Sinar placed her hand on his forehead and made a comment.
He wasn't training hard or anything, he was just eating, drinking, sleeping, and doing light exercises.
Of course, to the regular soldiers, those 'light exercises' seemed like intense training that they could barely keep up with.
Since Encrid usually trained so intensely that they couldn't even dream of keeping up, this lighter routine seemed relatively easy in comparison.
It was as if Encrid was preparing for some sort of ritual, eating, drinking, resting, and washing as though getting ready for something grand.
He looked like someone preparing for an epic battle all by himself.
As he spent the week like this, a cool breeze blew away the lingering heat. It was an autumn wind.
Encrid was sitting on a tree stump, waiting for dinner, while letting the wind blow over him, thinking about the events in the West.
More specifically, he thought about one aspect of Western culture: sorcery rituals.
Sorcery comes from prayers.'
That didn't mean he was about to perform some sorcery ritual or prayer.
Getting one's mind and body in order before doing something could be helpful, and it certainly wasn't a hindrance. It was simply a way for him to steel his resolve.
Many eyes were watching Encrid.
Rem thought that the guy had finally lost his mind for real, but he was also curious about what Encrid was going to do next.
It felt like he was definitely going to do something. The atmosphere was tense.
Of course, on the surface, Rem was just whistling a tune while sharpening his axe with the finest whetstone he could find.
That whetstone was supposedly more expensive than most Valyrian steel, but Rem used it without a care.
Ragna, on the other hand, felt a sense of grim determination when he looked at Encrid. At first glance, he seemed like an ordinary man enjoying his daily routine, but he also looked like someone getting ready to dance with a sword by himself.
He seemed prepared to suddenly pick up a sword and charge at any moment.
Audin, on the other hand, was deep in silent prayer.
'My Lord Father, please bless the work of my small elder brother.'
He didn't know what it was, but Encrid was clearly preparing for something. Audin was full of support, but at the same time, he felt a slight sense of unease.
Why?
He didn't know. It was as if the Father Lord was warning him that his small brother was about to do something reckless.
Audin continued his silent prayer.
'Lord Father, this brother of mine has always acted this way.'
There hadn't been a single moment on Encrid's path that wasn't reckless.
If the God of battle and war were to descend in response to his prayers, even they might find Encrid's behavior absurd.
Of course, since no God came down to speak, Audin continued his prayers with a heart full of support.
'Help him.'
The unease faded. The Father would help him. Audin felt reassured and continued his prayers.
Jaxon stood with his arms crossed, holding a dagger in his right hand and a book in his left. His stance looked so natural that no one would even think he was holding a weapon. The dagger in his hand was the same one he had carried on his first mission.
It wasn't enchanted with any powerful spell, but holding it gave him peace of mind.
Though, back then, he hadn't used the dagger at all, as a single kick to the upper body had ended the situation. Still, it was a meaningful object to him.
'Death.'
Jaxon had seen and been involved in countless deaths, and his sixth sense and intuition were warning him that whatever Encrid was doing now was dangerous. It could lead to death.
'Why?'
He could ask himself that question. On the surface, it looked like nothing more than Encrid's usual routine.
And yet, it gave off an ominous feeling, as if Encrid was preparing for something reckless.
So he watched closely. Even though he had external matters to tend to, he remained vigilant.
Eat, drink, sleep, relieve himself, wash, rest.
The strangest part of all this?
Everything seemed off. He ate more, drank more, slept more, and washed more than usual.
'No, I didn't confirm if he relieved himself more.'
It made sense that he would, given how much he was eating.
He ate more, slept more, and rested more. And he did all of it as if he were fighting for his life.
That's how it looked to Jaxon.
Sinar was sitting closest to Encrid, among those watching him. She sat on a chair a few steps away, as if observing and appreciating his face.
She gazed at him with her usual sculpted expression.
"My fiance, make sure to come back soon."
In a ritual of strengthening, more precisely when she communed with the forest spirits, Sinar had once gone on a journey. A journey into herself.
Though it had a low survival rate, she believed she would succeed.
Encrid looked as if he were preparing for a similar journey, so she made the comment offhandedly.
If someone asked what she meant, she could brush it off as a joke, as she usually did.
Encrid smiled at her. His eyes curved, and his lips lifted into a grin.
Did Encrid find Sinar's rare smile to be unusual?
The feeling was mutual.
It seemed like the first time she had ever seen such a soft smile from him, as if to reassure her.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Encrid replied.
It was just before sunset.
Before the sunset could fully begin, the Black Flower, Esther, approached. Though she was more appropriately called a witch, her nickname had stuck.
Still, Esther didn't care.
When you live in the world, such things happen.
Reacting to every little thing would be a waste of time. She knew what she needed to do, and she knew where to focus her efforts.
One of those things was watching Encrid.
Was it something she had to do?
No.
It was more something she wanted to do.
Her desires took precedence over what she needed to do.
Esther acted accordingly.
She looked at Encrid, who wore a gentle smile. His black hair and blue eyes were similar to her own.
"What are you waiting for?"
Regardless of what preparations or plans he had, Esther asked as she looked at the current Encrid.
He seemed to be waiting for something.
"Sunset."
Encrid answered.
"Why?"
"I want to see it."
"I see."
Esther nodded.
Purr.
From behind Esther, Odd-Eye approached. Encrid, still sitting, extended his hand and patted Odd-Eye's mane.
Odd-Eye lowered his head to meet Encrid's hand, circled around him once, then withdrew to stand quietly nearby.
From one side, Teresa, overcome by a sudden whim, began to sing.
It was a hymn she had recently learned. Her voice was both rough and clear.
The song, which spread through the contrasting qualities of her voice, was more than just pleasant to the ears. It stirred something within the heart.
Teresa wielded her voice like a musician conjuring magic without effort.
Luagarne resisted the urge to puff out her cheeks, not blinking once.
Lawford swallowed, feeling the atmosphere around them.
Pel, feeling a sense of defeat in the face of everything happening, questioned why he was even here.
Everyone was watching Encrid.
As the sun sank below the western horizon, the world began to be bathed in a slow, orange hue.
From the cloudless sky to the earth below.
The setting sun's light touched Encrid's face, and he took in a long, steady breath before slowly exhaling.
Something was about to happen.
Everyone came to the same conclusion.
After a brief moment, the sound of Rem sharpening his axe stopped.
The rare whetstone from the southern regions fell to the ground with a thud.
"What?"
Rem opened his mouth as Ragna stood up.
Audin's pupils dilated as he stared at Encrid, and Jaxon had already positioned himself beside him.
Encrid was taking slow, deep breaths.
Jaxon's hand moved to Encrid's nose.
In an instant, Jaxon sensed something happening inside Encrid's body.
He just hadn't predicted it would end like this.
"He's dead."
Jaxon spoke. It was an absurd death.
Why? Why so suddenly? Without reason?
And with that, the day came to an end.
* * *
Just before everything began, after all his preparations, Encrid waited for the sunset.
It was his favorite time of day.
As the sun sank westward, the world turned orange. Letting the wind blow against him, Encrid sat on the stump chair next to the tent.
Rem was sharpening his axe nearby. Jaxon was reading a book, and Ragna sat slumped with a vacant stare.
Sinar, sitting a little distance away, watched him.
Odd-Eye stood off to the side, watching the sunset with him.
Esther, looking indifferent, eventually sat down and leaned against the ground.
Her posture resembled that of a country woman taking a break by the roadside.
Despite her appearance, she acted with a casual ease, more befitting a duchess than a simple noblewoman.
Audin was praying, and Teresa was singing.
Her voice could have been mistaken for a musical instrument.
"Praise, praise, my Father who does not retreat in battle and aids in judgment. Praise, praise, my Father who does not overlook injustice and aids in judgment."
Listening to Teresa's voice, Encrid drew out his Will and sent it to his toes.
Rem, Ragna, Sinar, and Jaxon had all reached the level of Knights.
Of course, questions naturally followed.
How could one grow so easily?
At first glance, Encrid seemed to be a stimulant for others—environment, talent, and the effort sparked by seeing him drive them forward. But Encrid couldn't know all that.
Nor did he think it was important.
He just wanted to know the method.
How?
Encrid asked for the method.
Rem said he had learned sorcery from childhood and realized his constitution was different.
He expanded his ability to use sorcery due to his unique constitution. A story that was hard to fully understand or believe.
"It just came to me, and when I tried it, it worked."
Ragna had said it like that.
Sinar had once said she needed a short journey. Through that journey, she came to understand magic and the spirits.
It wasn't a physical journey but rather a mental experience that separated her from the world, during which she had to maintain her sense of self.
And what about Audin?
He claimed not to have reached the level of a Knight, but Encrid could see now that it was different.
'His vessel is different.'
In other words, the vessel was already complete. Audin, too, had something hidden. If he revealed it, he would fight like a Knight.
So when asked, he responded:
"I just followed the revelations given by my Father."
Honestly, even hearing it, Encrid didn't fully understand.
It was just another question added to the ones he had already asked and received answers for. He was repeating the process.
So how had Oara done it?
He didn't know. He couldn't ask, since she no longer existed in this world.
What about the Mercenary King? The Knight of Aspen?
They all had their own methods, and most of them were aided by talent.
It just happened. That's how it was for them.
You had to be born with it.
Only those born with it could walk that path.
Only those born with it could advance.
Only those born with it could go further.
You had to be born with it. That was talent.
Encrid had no talent. At least not the kind to become a Knight. He knew that well.
So should he give up? Should he be consumed by despair and stop here?
Should he be content with the tattered, ragged dream he had stitched together?
'I know that.'
That he lacked talent? He knew it well. Better than anyone else.
That the words of the limping mercenary, his first sword teacher, were not the truth?
Perhaps he had already sensed it when he first heard it, but the truth was too harsh, so he chose to ignore it.
He didn't fully remember what he had thought or felt at the time.
But he had never believed that becoming a Knight would be easy.
From the very beginning until now, it had always been that way.
A dead-end always stood in Encrid's path. If he had to stop because of it, he would have already done so long ago.
But Encrid hadn't stopped.
Because the time and effort he had put into everything had given him the will to continue.
'If I don't have talent, is there another way?'
He looked for a side path.
The Chimera Knight was one. Could sorcery help? That seemed possible too. But not wanting to walk a side path, Encrid sought another method.
The method he thought of was simple.
How could he keep the door open? How could he constantly fill his body with Will?
If it didn't come naturally, what if he forced it?
That's what he did. He drew out his Will, piece by piece, and kept it at his toes.
He had learned from the Knight's strike.
Everything he had gained until now helped him in this endeavor.
So, from the start of the day's practice to the present, it all came together.
All those experiences flashed through his mind.
Based on all of that, he drew out his Will and spread it from his toes throughout his entire body.
The Will that spread through his whole body made it tremble, and then, though unseen, a force gripped his heart and made it stop.
It was a quiet death.
A death with little pain.
But it was also a death caused by the wall of talent that blocked his way.
That death spoke to Encrid.
"It's a wall you made, but it's one you cannot overcome."
When he opened his eyes, he saw the ferryman, and the ferryman repeated the words of death.
"Is that so?"
And as always, Encrid answered in the same way. There was no tremor in his voice.
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