Rem, Ragna, and Jaxon exchanged glances before nodding. The agreement was settled.
With the three in front of her, squatting on the ground, Luagarne nodded as she spoke.
"No objections."
"As long as you don't try any tricks."
Rem said as he pushed the whetstone along the axe blade with a smooth motion.
"Just throw it."
Jaxon, holding a wooden carving in his left hand and a dagger in his right, added. As his dagger moved, the fresh wood splintered and shaved off like butter.
"Sometimes when we lost our way, we would roll the dice to decide."
Ragna chimed in, stretching his body without even sheathing his sword, looking as if he was waiting for something.
"That's why you get lost."
Rem reacted to Ragna's absurd comment.
"Who?"
Ragna casually asked back.
Who got lost? He had no idea what Rem was talking about.
That tone and attitude grated on Rem's nerves.
"You."
Swoosh.
The blunt end of Rem's axe handle pointed at Ragna. Rem uttered the words, channeling his Will into a spell.
It was a skill that exerted invisible pressure.
Ragna turned his grip slightly, directing his sword's blade toward Rem.
The spell's pressure was cut by the Will infused in the blade.
It was a kind of playful hand game where neither could claim victory or defeat.
Of course, since it was these two, it was far from a mere game, though only someone who could understand the depth of it would realize this.
Anyone with such an ability might shake their head at the childishness of it all.
"If you're jealous of the guide's talent, hard work is the only answer."
Ragna commented.
"Yeah… I could just kill you first and move on."
Rem replied without a pause.
"If killing were allowed, this would've ended a long time ago."
Jaxon, observing the two, placed his wooden carving on the ground and spoke. The carving depicted two figures with their heads nearly severed, one looking strangely like Rem, and the other resembling Ragna.
He could've made a fortune as a sculptor.
He had trained for years, honing his sense of perception and learning to exploit weaknesses in different races, and had taken up sculpting as a hobby. It wasn't just talent.
As the tension between the three reached a deadly level, Luagarne slapped the ground with her palm.
The webbed hand of the Frog slapped the earth, making a thud that echoed.
"Focus."
At her words, the three's tension eased.
If they didn't really intend to kill each other, it was probably best to leave the outcome to Frog's hands for now.
The three withdrew their aura, and Luagarne, watching them, gave a small nod before placing her hand over a cup on the ground.
What would be the best contest to test both skill and luck when deciding a match?
The traditional game of rock-paper-scissors couldn't determine a winner among them.
They kept splitting their moves and constantly changing their hand gestures, trying to outwit one another, leading to a flurry of tricks and schemes.
In the end, Rem came up with a hand gesture that wasn't quite a fist, rock, or scissors, saying something that landed the final blow.
With his thumb and index finger extended and the other three fingers curled into his palm, he declared,
"This is a special move of my clan—a pair of steel-infused scissors combining rock and fist."
It was absurd.
"My fist crushes anything that tries to cover it."
Ragna added.
"Isn't it obvious that scissors can cut through rock?"
Jaxon contributed, making it a never-ending argument.
Eventually, they sought a neutral party to officiate. That turned out to be Luagarne.
And so, they decided to settle it with dice, and now the Frog was holding the cup containing the dice.
Thud!
But, as is often the case, things didn't go as planned, and the Frog's slippery skin caused her to drop the cup. The moment her hand emerged, it was slick with oil, glistening as the dice rolled out.
"Ah, slippery."
They had chosen the wrong referee. Or perhaps the wrong game.
"This is a waste of time."
At that moment, Krais approached and took the cup in her place. His dexterity from his youth spent working in gambling dens showed.
No one had the chance to stop him, nor did they have any intention of doing so.
Someone had to shake the cup and reveal the dice.
The three pairs of deadly eyes said as much.
Krais grabbed the cup and shook it with a flourish.
Rattle, rattle!
Inside the wooden cup, the dice rattled around.
The dice had six faces, Rem chose the two highest, Ragna chose two in the middle, and Jaxon took the two lowest.
Clatter, thud.
As Krais's hand stopped, the cup settled on the ground, hiding the dice.
"By the way, why are we even doing this?"
Recalling his old habits from the gambling days, the part where he would build up tension before revealing the dice, Krais pretended to open the cup but then stopped to ask.
"Just reveal it, brother, or you'll die."
A kind suggestion came from Audin.
Not that Krais needed the reminder, the three pairs of eyes glaring at him were enough.
Even if a robber was pointing a knife at him, those three sets of eyes in front of him would be far more terrifying.
Krais lifted the cup.
The dice showed a five.
"I figured Mother Bear would help me out."
Rem chuckled, Jaxon shook his head, and Ragna frowned as he stared at the dice.
Should he just break it and call this off? He pondered briefly.
"I think that's enough."
At Encrid's words from one side of the training field, Ragna abandoned the idea. If he broke the dice, they'd have to start over. And it wasn't worth keeping Encrid waiting any longer.
It had only been a day since they'd confirmed Encrid became a Knight.
"Just needs a little more refining."
Instead of a spar, Encrid shook his head, and Audin joined him in the refinement process.
"Hit me."
They had begun a training exercise called the Striking Method.
Thud, starting with light punches.
Whack! Then, punches carrying a bit more intent.
"Let me know if it's too much, brother."
Audin said, but Encrid didn't stop being struck from noon until just before dusk.
Audin was drenched in sweat, and Teresa, watching from a distance, had her eyes wide open in shock.
'Is it really okay to take punches like that?'
Knight or not, it was amazing he could endure it.
Audin was throwing punches using rotational power from his ankles, knees, and hips.
Not to mention, Audin's fists were nearly as hard as steel. After years of training, they had become thicker and tougher.
They were like maces, and it wasn't an exaggeration to call them that.
In other words, Encrid was enduring blows from a mace swung with all the strength of a powerful warrior.
Yet, despite being hit by such punches, he didn't groan once.
Not just once, but after enduring dozens of blows.
"Impressive armor."
Luagarne, watching, murmured in admiration. A rumbling sound echoed from her.
It was as if she were more excited than when she met water after not seeing it for days.
"How is that possible?"
Luagarne muttered to herself. She wasn't asking Encrid directly, but rather thinking aloud.
Luagarne decided it was better to observe and understand Encrid's current state herself before asking any questions. She made it clear that she'd only ask when the right questions came to her.
Until then, she'd just watch, letting him be.
Encrid was full of intriguing qualities that piqued her curiosity. Before, she had mostly anticipated things, but now it was more than that. She was seeing things that broke her expectations.
Luagarne didn't want to resolve her curiosity with just a few answers.
Given her peculiar method of satisfying her curiosity, Encrid simply accepted it for what it was.
He had plenty to do himself.
He was busy verifying things, trying all sorts of experiments.
That's how he spent the whole day.
"Aren't you tired?"
Teresa, who had been watching, finally asked, but Encrid remained calm.
With sweat glistening on his body and bruises forming here and there.
At worst, they were just bruises.
And those bruises had been made by Audin—whose fists were attached to a body that seemed like a mistake made by the Gods.
"Not too bad."
Encrid responded.
He seemed to be deep in thought, but Teresa didn't notice. She was too amazed by what she was seeing in front of her.
"If you keep enduring, your body will grow even stronger, brother."
Audin said, sweating profusely. It was probably the most sweat Teresa had ever seen him break out into.
He had put that much effort into his punches. Even more surprising was that Encrid was sweating less than Audin.
Despite taking those blows, those fierce punches.
No wonder Teresa was astonished.
After spending the day like that, the next morning saw Rem, Jaxon, and Ragna fighting over who would spar with Encrid first, overturning their rock-paper-scissors game with absurd cheats.
The dry ground, which hadn't seen rain since the last seasonal rain, sent dust flying with even the smallest breeze.
Rustle.
A few leaves were carried away by the wind.
As Krais, who had been rolling dice in a corner of the training ground, stepped aside, space naturally opened up.
Encrid stood, holding Aker.
"How far do you want to take this?"
Rem asked directly, though Encrid understood perfectly.
If full sincerity was at a ten, how far was he willing to go?
"Five."
Encrid replied.
A serious spar could end with someone's death.
"Control yourself. Be careful."
Encrid warned, and Rem laughed.
"Who are you saying that to? A lost wanderer? A stray cat? Or the youngest cub now lagging behind and brooding over it?"
Rem, who served Mother Bear, had no problem mocking another bear. Ever since their return, he had even started calling Audin 'the youngest cub'.
Well, Mother Bear and a wild bear were different things.
Rem had a knack for distinguishing and categorizing things.
That's why even from a young age, he'd had no trouble living with his spells.
As long as one learned how to distinguish properly, there was no danger of doing something stupid like attracting wandering spirits.
Conversely, if one failed to distinguish properly, they'd end up like an idiot, taking in a demon and only spewing out wraiths.
"My weapon is an heirloom. A crude enchanted sword won't do. This one has a Will of its own."
An Ego Weapon, a term used to refer to weapons with a consciousness. It was something spoken of in legends or ancient histories, but such things did exist.
Rem's heirloom weapon had emotions. Its power fluctuated according to the intensity of those emotions.
As with anything, it had both advantages and disadvantages.
As a sorceric conduit, its inconsistency was its downside.
The upside was that, when it unleashed its power, it was wildly destructive.
When it went berserk, honestly, Rem felt confident he could take on three Knights at once.
At least, Knights of the kind he knew about.
Not all Knights were the same, after all.
There were people like Oara, and then there was Knight of Aspen. Though both held the title of Knight, in reality, there was a gap in ability.
Well, all battles were uncertain until they were fought, so it was never wise to speak in absolutes.
Thinking these thoughts, Rem extended his axe, but then Encrid said something strange.
To Rem, it sounded like nonsense.
"You too?"
"What do you mean, me too?"
"My sword speaks as well."
"It speaks?"
If it expressed emotions, that would make it a cursed sword, right? Or should it be called a divine sword?
It wasn't clear if this was a good thing, but it wasn't quite a cursed sword or a divine sword.
Encrid had already learned through a conversation he had half a day earlier that Aker, the sword he held, was a rather unique weapon.
"Yes, though it's mostly nonsense."
—Hey, calling it nonsense? Do you think a sword that holds the spirit of a former Knight is common?
At that moment, Aker buzzed, transmitting words only Encrid could hear through his mind.
"We'll talk about it later."
Encrid muttered.
Whether it was an Ego Sword or whatever, now wasn't the time. He was about to face Rem.
"That's true."
Rem agreed with what Encrid had just told his sword. He also set aside all idle thoughts.
When it's time to fight, you should only think about the fight. If you worry about how to run away or what to do next, you won't even be able to show half your true ability.
He was about to face a Captain who had awakened, someone who had grasped Will. There was no room for carelessness.
Let's see what you've become.
There was no signal, no word to start. Rem swung his axe, and Encrid swung his sword to meet him.
Rem's axe was slightly faster, but Encrid wasn't far behind. Even if someone were watching closely, the difference would be hard to perceive.
Thud!
A spark flew where Aker and the axe met, and Encrid's blue eyes traced a long arc.
Encrid closed the distance with a step, following up with an upward strike of his sword.
It was a series of blows that cut through the gaps between breaths. Rem brought his axe down at the same moment.
Thud!
The second clash rang out, and after that, Aker and the axe met and parted countless times, again and again.
They were like a pair of quarrelsome lovers.
After meeting and parting dozens of times, Rem stepped back.
'What is this?'
He was astonished once again.
Encrid's shoulders rose and fell slightly. Rem had deliberately clashed his weapon more often. He had been pushing the pace.
There was an intention behind it. Ragna or Jaxon would've probably done the same.
Controlling the sense of omnipotence was good, but the next important thing was figuring out one's limits.
When would fatigue set in? The key was recognizing that point and learning how to manage it.
Rem saw that as the next step.
It was similar to how sorcery worked.
However,
"Aren't you tired?"
"Already exhausted?"
Even though Encrid's body was clearly strained, the Will within him remained unchanged from the beginning. It was as if an endless spring of water was pouring forth without stopping.
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