What Enkrid displayed was a kind of absolute defense—a perfect barrier formed through reaction speed, swordsmanship, and a perspective that seemed to view the entire battlefield at once.In particular, his thought process was extraordinary.He didn't just see points; he saw lines. Then planes. Not just trees, but the forest. He absorbed his opponent's whole body into his view and reacted accordingly.And yet, his moment-to-moment decisions didn't fall behind in the slightest.
Sure, in real combat, if they traded one blow at a time, the outcome could differ. But that was something only real combat could reveal.
'He's mixed it all together perfectly.'
That's how it looked to Rem.Seeing Enkrid executing what he'd taught him so well did spark a bit of pride.Making the best judgment in the briefest moment was one of Rem's specialties, after all.Still, that didn't mean he should just roll over and lose.
To truly win in sparring, someone would have to die or be seriously hurt. Winning like that held no meaning.
'Then I've lost.'
He had to win within the framework of a spar.Rem set his mind to it.He thought. He planned. He craved a way.
'Uské was always there.'
He already knew how vast Enkrid's Will reserves were. And now, he'd returned with dramatically improved skills. That's why Enkrid was strutting around so cocky.
'Why does he come back changed every damn time he goes somewhere?'
Did he have some secret honeypot stashed on the continent? No. Rem knew better. He'd been to the west with him. There was no such thing.
'Just train. Every day. Same thing, over and over.'
Tediously repetitive training—that's all Enkrid ever did.Rem had done the same, but recently he'd gone into a training frenzy.Even when he'd just discovered the thrill of using his body in the west, he hadn't pushed himself this hard.It wasn't about fun anymore—he had a goal. And that gave rise to passion.
'I don't want to lose.'
Pride swelled stronger than pride. He didn't want to kill, just to win.
'Victory alone.'
He thought of nothing else for two weeks—ate, slept, shat, and trained.
'Be it with my axe or like this, a win is a win.'
He increased mobility with backward jumping drills—a method refined while sparring with Ragna.If he had to name it, it was a partial descent—though naming it wasn't necessary.
He just called on it when needed. That was enough.Rem did just that.He created distance and launched a barrage of high-speed projectiles.This didn't burn through his magical power.The bullets were lightly imbued with sorcery, but not to a dangerous degree.He didn't have to burn his entire body in combat.Like this, Rem could execute tactics similar to Enkrid's Uské.
Though his side focused purely on offense, not defense.The flying projectiles were waves.As long as the waves continued, Enkrid would have to block them.
That alone bound Enkrid's feet.
Whirr! BOOM! Whirrrrr! BOOM!
Two slings, with staggered rhythms, hurled bullets along separate paths, tearing through the air.Enkrid blocked them again and again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each block unleashed a thunderclap.Smoke billowed.Deflected bullets smashed into one of the dorms beside the training grounds.Even those ricochets could split the skulls of decent warriors.
Luckily, there was no one nearby to get killed—except one.
Anne, the healer and alchemist, had just arrived to receive a gift of drueras leaves.The red-haired, freckled girl stepped inside—just in time for a bullet to fly toward her chest.
If left unchecked, she'd die.
Someone blocked it.
Clang!
Ragna had thrust his greatsword into the ground, tilting the blade to deflect the bullet.It had already lost power after a bounce, so the impact wasn't as loud as when Enkrid blocked it.
It happened in a flash—Ragna closed the distance instantly. Anne's view was suddenly filled with a massive back.
"Not a great time right now."
Ragna said offhandedly. Anne, catching up to the situation, responded.
"…Looks that way."
Eyes wide in surprise, she nodded.
Everyone else—Luagarne, Teresa, Lawford, Pel—had all dodged or blocked well.Only a few structures got wrecked.
The tall training yard wall took three bullets before it collapsed with a rumble.Earth, stone, and mortar crumbled into dust.
Through the rising smoke, Enkrid's blue eyes glowed faintly.He was focusing his Will, watching.The moment an opening appeared, he'd close the distance.
That was how Enkrid won—turning mid-to-long range combat into close-range, sword-and-axe distance.Shut down the sling, and it was over.
Sure, Rem had dozens of ways to shoot or detonate bullets even at close range.But those required the resolve to kill.
There was a reason knights were discouraged from sparring against each other.Fighting stirred the will.If their skills were close, it was hard to end it without someone dying.
Even with a gap, serious injury wasn't rare.
Rem's gray eyes glimmered.Magic coursed through his body, and even his projectiles seemed to glow faintly.
That damn path-loser had pissed him off enough that he was ready to half-kill him.
No need to name the technique.But if you'd opened a new path—sometimes, a name helped.
Restricting Descent to just his arms and hands—whipping his wrist slightly to unleash the power of a giant—didn't need a name.It was a derivative of an existing technique. Just use it naturally.
But what was happening now was a bit different.
'Stay.'
He channeled sorcery into the bullet.Within it, he cast a new spell.
It wasn't a charm. Nor could you quite call it Descent.
In the past, a knight named Aker had specialized in keeping his Will within his weapons.Rem did something similar—using sorcery.
Not even in a held weapon—he left it in a projectile after it had already left his hand.
'Linger.'
Remain. Do not leave.
'Collide and explode.'
A bullet imbued with explosive sorcery.
Enkrid, by instinct, saw it—not with his eyes, but a sixth sense.
Until now, the bullets had been like hail.But this—this was different.It held intent.
Like hurling a living beast.Enkrid didn't ignore the feeling.
He instantly lowered his stance, shifted his weight.Not to charge, but to redirect.Flowing the force from below and behind, he brought Penna up diagonally.
The beast-shaped stone collided with Penna.
Their previous bouts had already shown why knightly violence was called a calamity.But this—this surpassed even that.
A blinding flash. Then a thunderous roar.
KRRAAAAAAAANG!
The shockwave surged.
Ragna, with a sigh, pulled Anne behind him by the shoulder.With his other hand, he slashed his sword downward three times.
Whump. Whump. Whump.
He cut the shockwave.
Even among knights, it was a dazzling feat.But no one had time to be impressed.
Rem might've just killed his commander.
"Are you seriously insane?"
That was Jaxen's voice.
Rem felt the presence of a wildcat approaching from behind.He didn't react.
Sure, there was killing intent—but this wasn't unusual. Jaxen got like this when angry.
Ragna just stared calmly at the blast center.
"O Lord, is it time for our barbarian brother to return to Your side?"
Audin muttered a solemn prayer.
"Dead…?"
Lawford murmured in disbelief.
But Pel shook his head.
They'd wandered the Fairy City and Labyrinth together, watched him kill demons, and saw him cut down cultists on the return.
That mad commander wouldn't die so easily now.
Sure, if you knew how many times it took to kill that demon One-Killer, you might hesitate to say that.But Pel's guess was correct.
"This is sparring?"
Came Enkrid's indifferent voice.
His right arm hung limp—either broken or the muscles wrecked.
At some point, he'd switched Penna to his left hand.
Thankfully, Penna remained intact. The fairy-made treasure glowed faintly, resisting the explosion's power.
Rem grinned at him.
"Got a problem with it?"
Of course, Enkrid hadn't changed.Not after becoming a knight.Not after getting ahead of them for a while.
"Wanna go again?"
The mad commander asked, beaming.A smile so wide it bordered on unhinged.
"You're all insane. Seriously."
Anne muttered under her breath.But to Enkrid, this was only natural.
He was thrilled.What if he'd misjudged that angle?Would he have lost an arm?
But he blocked it.Rem had counted on him blocking it—and he'd lived up to it.
'This is bliss.'
The thought ran through him.The thrill sprinted from his toes to his skull.He kept replaying the moment in his head—each time bringing joy.
'What if I angled the block differently? Wait, wasn't that last bullet different? Then he can't have many of those. Dodging at that speed's nearly impossible. If I just barely dodge, the follow-up will hit. Rem's the type to throw another right after. I'll have to block and endure. But how…?'
He didn't have a complete answer yet.But he could tell—there was something overlaid on Rem's bullets.
Something new.Something he hadn't reached.Rem had brought it.
How could he not be excited?
When Krais found that mountain of gold, was he this happy?Enkrid figured he himself was happier.
This wasn't life or death. It was a duel.He could take his time, reflect, and train.
Honestly, he didn't even see the answer yet.But insight would come. He knew how to wait now.In the meantime, he'd do everything he could.
"Looks like the stars will be lovely tonight, brothers."
Audin said, watching the two of them.
At that, Enkrid paused his inner reflection.He glanced at the aftermath of the duel.
Rumble, crash.
One of the dorm walls collapsed—specifically, Audin's room.A pile of stone where once was a wall.
"True. Your room's got the best view now."
Enkrid replied.
Audin just smiled, murmuring "O Lord…"—those two syllables heavy with a cocktail of emotion.
Enkrid shifted his gaze, tried to lift his right arm—then gave up.
"This arm's out. Gotta rest."
The limb wouldn't move.Blocking that ridiculous attack so bluntly had taken its toll.
"You call that rest? Want me to finish the job?"
On closer look, Enkrid wasn't the only one hurt.Rem had two broken fingers.
Handling Descent-level sorcery barehanded—of course this was the result.
It wasn't a perfect technique yet.But techniques didn't need to be flawless to be used.
Rem knew that—so he used it anyway.Practice breeds familiarity. Familiarity shows growth.
'Anyway, I need more training too.'
That's what Rem thought.But he didn't show it.
He calmly gathered his sling and straightened his axe handle.Then, with a dead-serious face, he spoke loud enough for all to hear:
"In the West, there's a word—'Urquiola.' In our tongue, it means 'dark sky,' but the true meaning is 'dawn just before sunrise.' We're all in that dawn. Just try a little harder. Don't be discouraged. It's fine. You'll get there. Worrrrrk hard. So what if you can't beat Captain Enki? That's just your limit. Dark sky. The dawn. Sometimes dawn never comes—but that's fine, 'cause I'm here."
A sermon.
His gray eyes shone brighter than in battle.They sparkled with a life never seen before.He was practically glowing with energy.
Of course, everyone listening looked like they'd just eaten a raw lemon.