Chapter 790 - Time of Dedication
Bloodshot veins appeared in Rino's eyes.
He straightened both of his swords.
There was no need to cross them.
What mattered now was presence.
He forged momentum through his stance.
In this way, he transformed his own pressure into a tangible force.
One sharp sword pierced the Castle Wall.
The awl-like force shoved into the cracks of the solid wall and broke through.
"...What is this?"
Then Rino was struck by a second wave of pressure.
The Castle Wall wasn't just one barrier.
'He manifested the pressure's form twice?'
It was understandable to be astonished—this was a skill even Rino had never witnessed.
Enkrid figured Rino wouldn't easily cross the wall, just as he himself was nearly crushed by the formless pressure Beelrog had unleashed.
Of course, you couldn't actually kill someone with pressure alone anyway.
Well, there were other purposes too, but for now, this was a simple experiment in form.
"I didn't create this to fight you, Teacher."
Enkrid said politely.
His words carried both sincerity and consideration.
"Don't talk nonsense!"
Rino snapped, his anger only fueled by the overwhelming aura Enkrid was displaying.
"Take it easy."
Again, Enkrid showed his opponent some courtesy.
The veins in Rino's eyes looked ready to burst.
'This bastard.'
Rino refocused his mind.
The veins on the backs of his hands, gripping the two Blades, bulged out, wriggling like serpents.
Enkrid acted like a spectator, doing nothing but pressing down with his presence.
In some ways, it wasn't so different from what Beelrog did.
Even when he saw an opening, he only watched.
The difference was negligible.
On one side, there was calm composure; on the other, bloodshot eyes and bulging veins mirrored Rino's mood and state.
But in the end, pressure is just pressure.
For a Knight, it's only a matter of time before he overcomes it.
That's to be expected.
Rino did the same.
He had already overcome three Castle Walls.
"Uooo!"
He let out a shout, a forceful cry.
It was, of course, an act of deception.
In reality, from the middle of it all, Teacher Rino was just biding his time, searching for the right moment to scale the next Castle Wall.
It was partly to maintain his condition at its peak, and partly so that if Enkrid rushed in to exploit an opening, he could launch a counterattack.
But Enkrid simply watched the entire process, and after hearing Rino's shout, all he did was draw Dawnforged.
Even his movement wasn't particularly fast.
It was as natural and smooth as a gesture welcoming and guiding a guest.
That was what made it even more frightening.
Rino instinctively knew this.
Kiririririring.
A blade radiating sky-blue light suddenly thrust toward Rino's solar plexus as he held both swords ready.
It looked as if the motions of drawing and stabbing were one and the same.
If you broke down the process, it would be three actions—draw, pull back, and thrust—but the fluidity of the movement made them seem like a single seamless flow.
Tadang!
Just before the two blades, which had been producing flashes, could cross and collide, they were blocked by Dawnforged.
The wall of sky-blue light stood between the two longsword blades like a barrier separating two desperate lovers.
"...You catch on quick!"
Rino shouted once more.
The excitement in his voice was still part of his act, meant to deceive.
Of course, it didn't work.
Teacher Rino's tricks had long since become familiar to Enkrid's eyes.
He calmly observed every single one of Rino's movements, blocking each one using the Sword of Chance.
In other words, he cut off the starting point of every move.
Every attack that followed from Teacher Rino was blocked in this manner.
Whenever Rino began a move by stepping forward with his left foot, Enkrid would kick at that very foot.
If Rino tried to cross his two swords again, Enkrid would slide Dawnforged right between them.
Then Rino pulled out a dagger whose blade seemed not just curved, but so bent it looked almost twisted.
That dagger was unusual as well; five jagged teeth, like those of a wild beast, lined the blade.
With it, he caught and hooked Dawnforged.
He then tried to snap the blade in Enkrid's hand.
Kagagagagang!
Sparks flew violently from the point where the dagger met Dawnforged, the screech of metal echoing.
Enkrid didn't even bother to check the state of his sword.
There was no need.
The only thing that broke were the jagged teeth of the dagger.
"My Engraved Weapon doesn't break."
When it's connected to my Will, its sturdiness can withstand even Beelrog's strikes.
I've already tested it myself.
It's about making full use of your weapon's abilities.
The durability of Dawnforged was a weapon in itself.
After Rino failed to snap the blade, he tried to retreat while Enkrid was kindly explaining.
As Rino leapt back, Enkrid followed, raising Penna and slashing down.
The blade sliced straight through Rino's body.
"…You bastard, your sword technique—"
He disguises the strength of his sword, and then uses the moment it's revealed as an opening to attack.
That's how you use a weapon.
Rino's words, tinged with admiration, trailed off as Enkrid replied flatly.
"I learned it from my teacher."
"Shit, teacher, huh? Well… it was fun, at least."
That was the last thing Rino managed to say, his split lips barely able to form the words.
"…Well, isn't that enough, Teacher?"
Enkrid spoke to the empty air.
The light from the torch stand flickered, making the shadows waver.
He realized that, ever since encountering Rino, this had been the longest fight so far.
That was intentional.
After passing through a corridor left in darkness by the torches, he soon faced the light again, and there, someone awaited him.
"My name is Donafa!"
Enkrid raised his sword in response, saying nothing.
Donafa was the type who preferred speaking with weapons, not words.
Even when facing Donafa's axe swings, the flow of battle remained similar.
Block, then block again.
Just as he'd received Rino's attacks, it was the same now.
The defense rooted in the Wave-breaker Sword style simplified his thinking and swept away any impurities; axe strikes crashed down and were deflected aside.
'Beelrog's swordplay.'
It was a similar form.
For a moment, Donafa's Will gathered and settled in the axe.
It wasn't quite the Explosion of Points, yet the force of the strike surpassed what could be simply deflected and dropped heavily from above, right on his head.
Sharper than the Guillotine Blade, and with a pressure that seemed to coil around his body like iron chains—such were Donafa's axe blows.
'Choosing simplicity over complexity.'
Axe swings grounded in Greatsword Style were tangled up with a manifestation of oppressive force.
If Beelrog's pressure took the form of chains, and Enkrid's was a castle wall, then Donafa's axe was accompanied by a net that ensnared his whole body.
'If I could draw out Beelrog's pressure and transform it into axe strikes.'
It would be similar to Donafa's approach now.
In that sense, he had dug into the very principles and sources behind the technique.
While Rino focused on Beelrog's wing movements and the uniqueness of his weapon, Donafa developed his skills based on Beelrog's overwhelming presence.
Of course, this posed no threat to Enkrid.
The Will of Rejection split and cast aside the net with ease.
After that, moving his body was practically effortless.
Donafa's terrifyingly swift axe strikes crashed through the air with a boom, but even so, they were slower than Rem's axe swings—at least that's how they felt to Enkrid.
He dodged, knocked away, and deflected Donafa's axe even after tracking it with his eyes.
It was excellent defense; the sword that blocked waves now shielded him from the axe.
"Uwahp!"
Even after missing his mark, Donafa, seeing no counterattack, immediately gathered his strength and swung his axe again.
By now, Enkrid had completely grasped Donafa's tactics.
After facing him more than two hundred times, it would be strange if he hadn't.
In fact, he had quietly made Donafa his teacher and learned from his skills.
'If the opponent dodging the axe strike even slightly breaks their stance—'
It bought him enough time to ready his next swing.
That was Donafa's strategy.
It was an entertaining way to fight.
Each attack bought him time for the next one.
The strategy Teacher Donafa had taught him was also one of the ways to get through today.
At least, that's how it worked in Enkrid's mind.
Another long battle unfolded.
Donafa swung his axe eighty times.
If his body hadn't been transformed into a Dullahan's, wouldn't the muscles in his arms have burst by now?
Dark, almost charred-looking veins bulged grotesquely across his forearms, already discolored a smokey black.
There's no way his forearms would look like that unless his muscles were under enormous strain.
Yet every axe swing was at full power.
Donafa wasn't the type who could cut down a thousand men in succession.
But when facing a hundred warriors, each of whom could best a thousand ordinary men, he would fight far more fiercely.
Everyone's tactics change depending on how they've trained.
Donafa was someone who blazed his own trail.
In that respect, Rino was the same.
That's why there's always something to learn from people like them.
He wasn't some clumsy fool who thought training was just about spending time.
Not one of those idiots who, with nothing substantial to back them up, simply claimed to be skilled and thirsted for meaningless fame.
In the end, there was no way Donafa's arm muscles would actually burst.
He had trained enough for that not to happen.
After all, he was a knight.
Even when every attack is blocked, his resolve never wavers.
He simply swings his axe again.
Enkrid slipped past the eighty-second axe swing and slashed Donafa's waist in a diagonal arc.
Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted his body, and the power condensed through the Vortex technique exploded out.
Will surged like a boulder rolling down a steep hill, flowing from his ankles, knees, waist, arms, and hands, finally reaching his sword.
Dawnforged's Skyglow grew deeper, forming the true shape of its blade.
This was the best strike Enkrid could deliver.
The force behind Donafa's swinging axe had clearly weakened since the start, so there would be no sense in drawing things out any longer—this would be the final blow.
As long as Enkrid could block it as well, Donafa would simply scatter and die, uttering a pained groan and a curse.
It was something Enkrid had already done before.
Not willing to end the fight that way, he honored the formality.
Of course, this so-called formality involved slicing his opponent clean in two.
Black Mist scattered and drifted away behind him.
"I've lost."
Those were Donafa's words, spoken from his head, which had rolled off to the side.
As always, Donafa acknowledged his defeat, but today there was a distinctly satisfied tone to his voice.
That head dissolved into particles and vanished.
He didn't seem to have anything more to say.
He knew he'd lost from the start, and he realized the fight had been drawn out on purpose, but that final strike—that heavy cut—was exactly what Donafa had wanted.
Was he truly satisfied?
Regardless of my intuition, I can't read his true feelings exactly.
Well, there's no way to get that answer now.
Once again, I push forward, cutting through the darkness.
"Oh-ho, you seem handy with a sword, don't you?"
The Single-edged Sword, who ranked third among the teachers I'd met recently, charged in with that remark.
Enkrid laid the groundwork to let his opponent come at him.
It was a courtesy, allowing her to use everything she had.
In this way, he dragged out the fight once more.
He focused entirely on defense, minimizing his movements and only taking the actions absolutely necessary.
Excitement of the Single-edged Sword, boosted by Will and her long, controlled breaths, was an impressive technique—but it wasted a lot of energy.
Enkrid stole the basics she possessed, then layered his own skills atop them.
This happened not because he intended it, but because it unfolded naturally.
It was simply that Enkrid's skill, understanding, and willpower surpassed hers.
'Cut out the waste.'
Keeping his head straight, staying just this side of being drunk on omnipotence.
He had mastered every trick.
Ttak, tang, tang.
Every so often, blades clashed, but neither of them received so much as a scratch.
Enkrid blocked her attacks in various ways.
He even sometimes used the Fairy's Cloak to guide her blade away.
Each time, the Single-edged Sword's eyebrows crept a little higher.
Finally, her excitement faded and, unable to hold back her anger, she went all out, betting everything on a single strike just like Donafa had done.
No doubt it was one of her secret techniques, but Enkrid had already seen this move thirty-five times.
He stepped back, moving outside the range of her sword, then suddenly rushed in, completely throwing off her attack timing.
'Even as a Knight, the fight itself remains simple.'
As a Knight, you can dash fast enough to leave afterimages, and swing your sword faster than sound.
Shattering rocks or slicing right through castle walls becomes possible.
Still, the fundamentals never change:
Steal your opponent's timing, read their breathing, dodge and strike, deceive then strike again, predict and cut.
This was a fight grounded in those basic principles.
If the Ferryman had been watching, he might've asked if simply enduring today like this was truly the method Enkrid spoke of—it was that long of a struggle.
"Damn."
The Single-edged Sword wielder died with a curse on her lips.
After having all her attacks blocked and then being finished off in one blow, anyone would be frustrated.
Still, a rough look of satisfaction lingered on her face.
It had been a while since she'd pushed herself to her limits in a fight.
And it wasn't just for amusement—her opponent had helped draw out her full potential.
"Thank you."
Maybe that's why.
The Single-edged Sword wielder left Enkrid with those unexpected words.
Before Enkrid could even reply, she scattered and vanished.
Moving forward again, he reached the campfire's glow—today's destination.
"You're here."
It was Oara.
"Yes."
Enkrid smoothly took a seat beside Oara, whose figure was bathed in the campfire light.
Up to this point, it was just like any other day.
No—dragging the time out this much was certainly different from usual.
Of course, all that time had been dedicated to the three Teachers anyway.
After some small talk, just as Oara seemed to be wrapping up the conversation, she spoke.
"Ha, I was both hoping to see you again here and hoping I wouldn't. Honestly, if Roman had shown up, I'd planned on sending him back."
Oara spoke, placing her hands on her knees.
As she was about to get up with a little grunt, Enkrid casually tossed out a question.
"How about a sparring match, since it's been a while?"
His innocent blinking was just like clueless Ragna.
In truth, he'd imitated him on purpose as he recalled him.
For a brief moment, Oara showed a hint of surprise.
Was it really okay?
She seemed to be hesitating, as if unsure.
After blinking, she nodded.
"Sounds good."
Then she drew her sword.
There was no sign of Laughter, her Engraved Weapon.
Instead, a plain longsword rested in her hand.
***
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