Chapter 789 - Kneel and Beg
"Kneel and beg. Beelrog won't kill you."
So beg, and beg again.
Plead for your life.
Flee today by running away.
Show your back.
Facing your foe head-on isn't the only way.
Gain strength and return when you're ready.
Isn't this also a kind of strategy?
As the ferryman spoke, his face appeared to change at least five times.
A flash of dark green flickered in his black pupils, and beneath his hood, a faded golden light glimmered for an instant.
And yet, his expression remained unmoved.
He simply recited the words in a dry monotone.
Listening felt like reading a book written in a rigid, matter-of-fact style.
Not something riveting, but a book that simply lays out the facts—and Enkrid thought the ferryman's logic was sound.
"Would you rather just get devoured by today? Watching you get bitten by a dog who killed all his brothers and fled isn't exactly pretty."
There were parts in the middle he didn't quite understand
Killed his brothers?
Ran away?
Given the context, it sounded like he was criticizing Beelrog.
But then, what did it mean to beg to someone you'd just criticized?
There was some obvious contradiction here, but considering the ferryman's goals, it wasn't so strange after all.
"Escape from today."
More precisely: don't stay trapped in this particular 'today.'
That was what the ferryman wanted.
Enkrid's curiosity had always been unpredictable—much like sudden inspiration striking a great artist.
Most of the time, he'd let things pass without much interest, but suddenly, a word or phrase would catch his ear and he'd want to know more.
"A dog that killed all his brothers and ran away? What's that supposed to mean?"
This sort of curiosity usually only appeared when things might help in fighting, training, learning, or achieving his own goals, but even the ferryman couldn't fully grasp Enkrid's thought process.
The ferryman couldn't possibly see right through Enkrid's mind.
In fact, even Enkrid himself couldn't always figure out his own heart.
People are just like that.
In any case, Enkrid asked, and the ferryman replied—in the same rigid, expressionless tone.
"It's not important."
The ferryman's lamp swayed faintly from side to side.
With that slight movement, the violet light gradually spread, lengthening and shortening the shadow cast before him.
The ferryboat had grown to about twice its usual size.
This wasn't the first time Enkrid had seen this happen.
When he recently met him again and, instead of accepting advice, immersed himself in reviewing what he'd learned from his three teachers—even practicing in his dreams—the ferryman had expanded the boat for him.
Even now, one conclusion lingered in Enkrid's mind.
The ferryman simply didn't want to get stuck in this 'today,' facing Beelrog.
His actions were more effective than words; they made the meaning unmistakably clear.
Come to think of it, Enkrid had spent several years with this ferryman by now.
On top of that, the ferryman was privy to his greatest secret—the one he trusted to no one.
Enkrid's mind began to work.
There was no need to stretch out time.
Technically, this was the Imaginary Realm, an inner world.
Inside here, thoughts sparked as quickly as flashes of light.
Reasoning happened in an instant.
Enkrid simply let the tree of thought absorb water and grow.
Left alone, it would naturally reach its own conclusion.
He had learned that from experience.
'The ferryman is helping me train.'
He pushes me, urging me to go beyond the wall.
'Why?'
No sooner did the question arise than the answer came to him naturally.
In fact, he already knew the answer; it was the same truth he'd repeated to himself for the third time.
The ferryman hates these todays spent with Beelrog.
But why?
Because this could never be called a pleasant today.
In other words, this is not the kind of day the ferryman wishes for.
What he truly wants is a peaceful, tranquil day.
Even if a fight breaks out, that's fine—but at the very least, he wants to be spared this relentless brutality.
"You'll never get past it in the end. If you end up stuck here for a hundred, two hundred years, then this is where it all ends. That'll be the last 'today' for you."
The ferryman repeated himself.
It was as if he intruded and disrupted Enkrid's train of thought in the middle of his reasoning.
Enkrid listened in silence.
To an outsider, regardless of their tone or appearance, it might look as though one side was pleading while the other remained composed and indifferent.
"Crazy prisoner, if you wish to linger in immortality, now is not the time."
Usually, the more desperate someone is, the more they tend to talk.
After listening to everything, Enkrid calmly scratched the back of his neck with his left hand and replied nonchalantly.
"Hmm, I refuse."
His answer showed no sign of hesitation—neither in attitude nor in the speed of his response.
"So you're planning to stay in this today?"
The ferryman asked again.
"Ah, no, that's not it."
Enkrid shook his head.
"You really think you can get past this on your own?"
With sheer force of will, the ferryman's question echoed dozens of times, reverberating through Enkrid's entire body.
As he spoke, the river churned and the ferryboat rocked.
This may be an Imaginary Realm, but to Enkrid, this place feels as real as the physical world—his body moves the same way.
Balancing himself on the swaying boat, Enkrid's lips curved into a gentle smile, confidence lighting up his face.
"No, I don't."
That was his final answer.
The swirling river surged up and enveloped the ferryman on the boat.
The ferryman's entire body dissolved, scattering like beads of deep blue granules, and in no time, Enkrid began to float gently upward, drawn into the flickering light above his head.
"You'll have to prove what you've said."
The ferryman's words lingered in his ears, like an echo shouted from far away.
Just a moment ago, Enkrid had answered "no."
But that reply held a double meaning.
On one hand, it was a vow not to be stuck in today.
On the other—
'Why would he assume I'm alone?'
It meant that he wasn't alone.
That was basically it.
Of course, stray thoughts—impurities or random ideas—branched out, spiraling and tangling like snakes chasing their tails before finally meeting in the middle.
Enkrid skillfully gathered those thoughts and drew them toward a single conclusion.
To beg Beelrog on his knees was, in the end, to abandon his will—to cast away the way of life he'd stubbornly upheld, just to survive.
So, the ferryman hadn't changed at all.
The suggestion he made today was no different from past offers.
No matter the "today" Enkrid faced, the ferryman only ever offered meaningless survival.
'Does he find that fun?'
Living that way meant nothing to Enkrid.
There was no joy in it.
It would even be an insult to the dream he'd nurtured since childhood—a dream already partly fulfilled by becoming a Knight.
Life and death are always two sides of the same blade.
Since he was the one walking that edge, it was up to him to choose how to live.
And begging?
That was far too passive a way to face life.
That would be leaving the choice up to Beelrog.
Even if you survived that way, someday your will would break.
If you prostrated yourself on the ground and begged just to stay alive, there would be nothing left inside you afterward.
And if the tower of resolve he had built up until now were to collapse, what would be left?
To an outsider, Enkrid might look like someone living only for today, but that wasn't the case.
He was always someone moving toward tomorrow.
Whatever the ferryman suggested, Enkrid had his own way of doing things.
"If I stay like this, I'll be trapped in this day."
That's what the ferryman had said.
Enkrid understood what that meant.
But if it was only a matter of escaping today, he'd already found a way.
Not able to overcome it alone?
He accepted that, too.
After repeatedly scaling walls—again and again—Enkrid's thinking had become more flexible, his understanding broader.
He let go of the idea that he had to do everything by himself.
A liberated mindset called for considering every possible scenario and calculating the best course of action.
How had he learned to sense the flow on the battlefield through intuition?
It was thanks to Abnaier, now a hostage seeking refuge with the Border Guard, who'd once trapped him in a cunning strategy.
Repeating countless todays, he'd developed this ability.
That growing experience became a lighthouse of intuition, and its light still shone brightly, illuminating everything around him.
'Repetition and experience.'
Those thoughts came one after another.
Then just how many times had Enkrid repeated "today" all this while?
It was exhausting just to try to count.
The fact that his mind hadn't worn away was reason enough for the ferryman to acknowledge him.
In truth, a part of the ferryman's own mind respected Enkrid for precisely that reason.
Of course, Enkrid could never know what the ferryman was really thinking.
But after reliving today countless times, well, you could say his instincts had gotten sharper.
Being trapped in today like this, things became clearer.
Faced with a wall so dark, murky, and endless that you had no clue how to proceed, you naturally came to believe that if you just endured, eventually a faint beam from the lighthouse would guide your way.
This must have been an unexpected bonus ability, even the ferryman hadn't anticipated.
As the light gradually filled in, he found himself returning once more to today.
Standing at the threshold of today—one he had crossed countless times—Enkrid did what he always did: he recalled the lessons he'd learned.
'How to utilize weapons.'
He applied what he had learned from his first master.
That included not only how to use physical weapons and tools, but also how to wield his power, which was now different than before.
"When the strength you possess changes, so too must your tactics for using it. That's only natural."
Luagarne's words echoed in his mind.
Next, the skills he'd learned from his second teacher, Donafa, also proved helpful.
With a single, focused thought, he swept away all impurities.
In this way, he swung his axe and pushed beyond his current limits.
And what he learned from his third teacher, the single-edged sword master, was the way Will and the Breathing Technique changed with one's mood.
Enkrid continued repeating today more than thirty times after that.
In the end, he heard something strange from Beelrog.
Well, it was strange from Beelrog's perspective, but to Enkrid, it was only natural.
"Is your tactic to die slowly?"
Enkrid only smiled in response.
By then, he'd understood the difference between the Will Ragna and the others had shown him, the Will he'd seen from Beelrog, and his own Will—he had finally adapted.
He tried, right up to the end, to win with that alone, but lost.
The battle had been fierce, rough, and intense, yet it was just another day that had now passed.
A day no one else needed to know about disappeared just like that.
Only Enkrid knew.
All those yesterdays had piled up, and he could now clearly see the lighthouse's beacon shining toward tomorrow.
That's why, at the start of the 226th day, Enkrid looked at Rino and asked,
"Is this the Teacher's Domain?"
Within the labyrinth, there were places filled with light and places shrouded in darkness.
And here is where they lived.
In terms of number of days, Enkrid had now spent more than half a year here.
During that time, he had instinctively observed his surroundings.
That was the conclusion he arrived at.
They each had their own territory.
Was the reason they could maintain some degree of selfhood thanks to Beelrog's indulgence?
'No, it's because it amuses him.'
The Demon of Strife, whose only goal was to fight again and again, had trapped them in the labyrinth and made them challenge him.
Because that was what brought him pleasure.
Beelrog's fragments, torn from him and given physical form, conquered zones throughout the labyrinth, provoking intelligent races and forcing them to improve their skills—or ultimately killing them.
And to those who gathered here, he granted personal spaces.
You could call them private rooms within the labyrinth.
They weren't anything special like the exclusive rooms you might find at an inn in a metropolis; they were simply empty spaces carved out in the cave, but even so, Enkrid understood these zones belonged to them.
"…Hm? It sounds like our guest knows something. But... Teacher? That's an unusual title."
Enkrid called him that because he'd learned a lot from him.
"I do know a thing or two."
"Ah, I see."
Rino bobbed his head from side to side, lowering his arms—a signal he was about to attack.
Enkrid silently gestured to the will of the castle wall, provoking Rino to try and cross it.
Rino's eyebrow twitched.
His brow furrowed, and the edge of his mouth twisted up into a sneer.
"Showing off your little tricks, are you?"
He drew one of his flame-igniting swords and readied his stance.
It was the sort of posture that suggested as soon as he overcame the pressure, he'd come charging in.
His stance wasn't sloppy, but Enkrid could tell it was a feint.
If Rino had been one of the Madmen Knights, he would have given him this advice:
"It's better to abandon deception and focus solely on skill."
Having sharpened his perspective and, by teaching Fel and Ropord and guiding Roman down a new path, Enkrid had learned as much as he'd taught.
Over that time, he repeatedly alternated between teaching and learning, ultimately distilling only what was most essential.
To Enkrid's eyes, he could see the path Rino needed to walk.
But, of course, he would never say a word about it.
The opponent before him was an enemy, not someone to nurture or protect.
Especially since—
'He's not even alive.'
***
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