There is no law that says you must walk with your eyes fixed straight ahead just because you have chosen a path and decided to walk it.
Didn’t the great rchant Rengardis also say,
“Keep your eyes wide open and watch the ground around you. You never know where you might find a stray Krona.”
Surely, he wasn’t the kind of person who would pick up a single coin from a fairy tale. After all, he was known as a rchant.
However, the aning of his words was clear.
For instance, if you find a pouch of gold coins on your way, it is only right to pick it up.
If you are planning to camp on your journey, it’s a good idea to collect dry branches.
If you can catch two birds with one stone, wouldn’t it be right to throw it?
Encrid did just that.
‘Will.’
Even though he set his goal, he didn’t act foolishly or recklessly.
He did not beco a racehorse running blindly forward.
What could he do until the Shepherd, who cos in the evening, arrived on this repetitive day?
Training, fighting, pondering.
Encrid summarized his tasks into three categories.
He learned the basics of the Fluid Sword Technique from Ragna and trained alone repeatedly.
Later, he learned more about the Valaf-Style Martial Arts from Audin.
Their reactions were similar.
“Have you learned this sowhere? Or have you been secretly practicing with a sword all this ti?”
“When did you train so much in martial arts? Brother, you make proud.”
Encrid nodded roughly to both of them.
Though he was trapped in the present and trained alone, it wasn’t a lie.
In truth, he didn’t hear such words often. Encrid focused more on training than sparring.
He would ponder alone, swing his sword, and move his body.
When his mind wouldn’t work, he would exhaust his body using the Isolation Technique while sweating profusely.
“Are you hoping to hear say that you shouldn’t overdo it, brother?”
Had he trained his body to the point where Audin was worried? Encrid answered indifferently.
“Exercising makes my mind work better.”
“That’s true. Your brain needs blood flow to think properly.”
Jaxon muttered beside him.
If we consider Jaxon’s forr or current job, he would probably know more about the human body structure than anyone.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Encrid learned that through his body. When his mind wouldn’t work, he moved his body.
When moving his body didn’t solve the problem, he sat down and pondered.
When the repetitive ‘today’ passed the hundred and eightieth ti.
Encrid had mastered the basics of the Fluid Sword Technique, honed the Valaf-Style Martial Arts through Audin, and learned how to handle his senses through Jaxon.
If he had to spend ti anyway, he might as well refine and polish what he had.
It wasn’t just that.
Beyond swordsmanship, martial arts, and senses.
What he learned from his comrades and subordinates beca sharper, more sensitive, and bolder.
His senses beca sharper, his concentration more acute, and his judgnt bolder.
But even so.
Swish!
He couldn’t avoid the blade brushing against his body.
The blade that grazed the back of his hand swiftly turned around. The sword, flying like a snake, was based on the Swift Blade and the Illusion Sword Techniques.
‘Once drawn, it’s hard to block.’
If he had the skill to avoid and block without being grazed, he could win without being touched.
To do that.
‘I’d have to beco a Knight right away.’
The opponent in front of him was better than the one called Swift Blade.
What if he were a half-blood Giant?
‘It seems like it’s a matter of who delivers the fatal blow first.’
What does it an to gauge an opponent’s skill?
If Encrid had wanted to kill his opponent, he could have done so several tis already.
During almost two hundred days of ‘today’, he never spent a single day idly. That’s why it was possible.
However, not even grazing them remained difficult. It felt like a separate matter.
Is it really impossible unless he becos a Knight?
If not, he would have to defend all night long.
He had already tried that.
When midnight passed, the sa ‘today’ would just begin again.
‘No more defense for now.’
Through the Sense of Evasion, avoiding and blocking all day was aningless.
So, what should he do?
From that mont, there were only battles as if in real combat.
Encrid fought and fought again.
If there was a ti of conscious rebellion after being hit, he also continuously utilized the ti spent before that.
The ti to figure out how to overco this barrier after defense and evasion, to learn from the opponent, and to grasp and embody what he learned alone. It was neither tireso nor hasty.
There was no reason to be.
He was too engrossed in learning sothing new every day.
Even if it was aningless to resist sothing inherent in the sword, he ignored it.
He pursued joy. Naturally, it made Encrid realize many things in various ways.
‘During that ti.’
Was it because he had learned too many miscellaneous things?
As he incorporated them one by one into his body, Encrid himself felt he was becoming more solid than before.
However, there was no ti to be engrossed or indulge in it.
Even though ‘today’ was repetitive, each day was busy. There were things to do every day without rest.
Pondering, thinking, and moving his body.
If anyone saw him, they would undoubtedly think he was completely mad.
“What is it, what drives you?”
Even the ferryman asked such a question.
Despite the repetition of ‘today’, why couldn’t he let a single day pass idly?
It wasn’t that he couldn’t, he just didn’t.
Encrid was enjoying the present.
Rather than seeing a faded dream and struggling in darkness where not even an inch ahead was visible.
Even if the road was blocked and the wall obstructed him, the fact that there was light beyond gave him more joy than ever.
Even if suffering and pain followed.
Encrid felt the joy of growth once again.
Though he never thought he was stagnant, facing the opportunity to advance was always joy and ecstasy.
That joy drove him.
After being injured on his wrist again.
When a scratch appeared on Encrid’s hand, the Shepherd frowned.
It was a face that showed this was an unwanted situation.
Encrid wiped his injured hand with the opposite hand.
As he wiped away the blood droplets, blood trickled from the wound the size of two finger joints.
He was now accustod to the screams that sounded like a banshee grabbing his earlobe and the shrieks as if a ghoul was sticking its head into his stomach.
Although it wasn’t that it wasn’t painful, he could refrain from showing it outwardly.
Thus, his nonchalant tone ca forth.
“Does that sword have a na?”
“…Oh? Are you alright?”
The Shepherd was rather surprised. Having seen it more than once, Encrid cleanly ignored the opponent’s reaction.
“The sword’s na.”
Only then did he throw his question. The Shepherd mumbled and then answered.
“It’s called Idol Slayer.”
It was a sword worthy of having a na. Of course, it was a na he had heard for the first ti.
He still didn’t know anything about the sword’s power or the principle by which people died because of it.
He had asked about that, but it was hard to get an answer from his opponent.
For him, today was their first encounter, so it would be hard to give a proper answer even if he asked.
‘Even if I heard it, it wouldn’t be useful.’
‘Will’ is sothing that cannot be explained, sothing that cannot be taught, sothing that cannot be conveyed.
Among these, what is called a rite is also a type of superstition.
A rite doesn’t necessarily an one realizes ‘Will’.
“If a talented human is placed in a life-threatening situation, wouldn’t they realize it? So if they are cut by a blade forged by willpower, wouldn’t they understand the feeling?”
This thod, which started from such a question, is called a rite.
So even if he heard it, it wouldn’t be useful. Whatever that sword was, if it had ‘Will’, it was said that he wouldn’t die.
That sword was sothing forged by ‘Will’. So he didn’t ask and just rolled with it. He decided to learn by experiencing.
“Can you forge it? Can you block it?”
The Shepherd asked, and Encrid shook his head. This was a common question as his ti withstanding the sword lengthened.
Once again, the repetition of ‘today’.
Afterward, Encrid perford a few tricks.
For example, instead of blocking and avoiding the sword all day, he would do sothing like making sure the opponent couldn’t even draw their sword in the first place.
Thump! Tak, Tuk.
He raised his chin from below the opponent’s palm, then swung his hand horizontally towards the Shepherd’s neck, who dodged it.
The Shepherd blocked with his chin pulled back. He was skilled in martial arts as well.
Encrid, while performing tricks with his hands, at so point stepped on the opponent’s foot.
When his foot was stepped on, the Shepherd’s hand twisted.
Though he was skilled in martial arts, it wasn’t his specialty.
This guy was a swordsman.
When the opponent gripped the sword hilt, Encrid gripped it together with him.
It was a result achieved by getting inside the range of a dagger strike in close quarters.
‘Valaf-Style Martial Arts Poml Pressing.’
One of the secret techniques to prevent the opponent from drawing their sword.
It was a skill he had learned and mastered recently.
“…I’ve lost.”
The Shepherd, filled with the desire to win, tried to draw his sword but even failed at that.
Even knowing that drawing his sword was dangerous, he attempted it.
However, his opponent blocked that source. It was a situation worth admitting defeat.
“No, let’s do it again.”
But Encrid stepped back and said.
He retreated to the distance of sword range.
Shing.
Encrid drew his sword.
“It’s sharp and keen. Be careful.”
As he ntioned that his weapon was no ordinary one, the Shepherd bit his lips for a mont and then drew his sword.
Ting!
In an instant, he drew his sword and pointed it forward.
“You will die if you even get grazed. Consider it coated with a deadly poison.”
The two moons intertwined their shadows. Due to the peculiar angle, the Shepherd’s shadow appeared larger than Encrid’s.
‘How kind. Telling not to get even grazed.’
It was the opponent’s repeated kindness. Encrid nodded.
As it was a signal to attack, the Shepherd took his stance.
It was a more cautious stance than ever before.
He had no choice. The opponent had bound his sword with fists and feet.
And then, swords extended their tongues towards each other.
Clang!
Sparks flew as steel t steel.
Despite having seen various sword techniques and habits of using feet, Encrid felt it was new every ti he raised his sword to engage.
‘You improve while fighting.’
It was talent, sothing he did not possess.
Realizing this did not make him jealous.
He was simply pleased with his opponent’s progress.
Every day, although repetitive, brought a new opponent.
Because of this, winning without getting grazed by that sword was impossible.
Enduring all night and winning were different matters.
He didn’t intend to purposely get stabbed, but he also didn’t want to spend the day just enduring.
This ti was no different.
Slash.
A light wound, a scream began.
Soon, his heart stopped, and his mind went blank.
It felt as if soone was stabbing his head with a red-hot poker.
It was extre pain. Terrible pain. And thus, Encrid died.
He died. He died again. And again.
He died over three hundred tis.
Consecutive deaths, continuous deaths.
Each ti, he used Valaf-Style Martial Arts to prevent the sword from being drawn.
As he continued, his skill naturally improved.
Of course, all of this was rely secondary.
‘I can’t catch it.’
In the invisible darkness, Encrid beca a lost wanderer.
He saw a light far away, but he couldn’t reach it, couldn’t get closer.
So, did anything change?
Even though he couldn’t see the way, nothing changed, so Encrid walked silently. He crawled. Even though he struggled, as long as he could move forward, he was a traveler and a wanderer.
“You fool.”
It was the ferryman’s words.
Whenever he spoke, it was always sothing like that.
You fool.
You idiot.
You ignoramus.
He didn’t seem to consider that the listener might get hurt.
Of course, he wasn’t hurt.
He walked through such a foolish autumn day.
He picked up fallen leaves on the path.
One day, while walking with the picked-up leaves in his arms, the light brushed against his hand.
‘Die.’
A voice was heard amidst the screams.
Encrid reacted instinctively to those words. No, it was sothing he had always, truly, and earnestly scread.
Though outwardly calm, Encrid was always struggling and resisting internally.
His resistance was always the sa, and ultimately, it converged into one desire and wish.
‘I don’t want to.’
He didn’t want to die. He wouldn’t die. No matter what your blade does, I won’t die.
It was a statent containing that resolve.
This ti, too, he died. But it was a different death from before.
The pain was the sa, but.
“Huh? Didn’t you say you couldn’t do it?”
For a while, a really long while, he endured.
What should this be called?
Humans don’t have tails. If a tail suddenly grew, it would surely be difficult to use.
So, to use it, practice would be necessary.
On a path shrouded in darkness, the mont he realized what to do.
It could be seen as a matter of sense, or as sothing intentional.
What is ‘willpower’?
What is ‘Will’?
‘As I desire.’
If the sword’s ssage upon being cut by the Shepherd’s blade was death, if the sword’s coercion was death.
Encrid had only one thing to do.
On the four hundred and eighty-fifth ‘today’.
Even though he overwheld his opponent with both sword and fist, when he couldn’t block the sword brushing against his shoulder.
Encrid felt the will to die.
It was a one-sided attack and pressure from the sword.
An intangible force that strangled his heart and scorched his mind.
Because he felt it clearly, he could refuse.
When he couldn’t feel it, he had to die without knowing anything, but because he felt it.
Just as you would brush away an approaching hand to express your intention.
He could show his will in such a way.
“No.”
Speaking aloud, he shows his will.
Sothing he didn’t know before he realized it.
Sothing he could never have anticipated before willpower, ‘Will’, was translated into an intangible force.
“Ah.”
The Shepherd opened his mouth in surprise.
Encrid deflected the ‘will to die’ that ca from the wound on his shoulder.
He was simply cut and muttering to himself. There was no explosion of intangible pressure, no light streaming down, and no magical phenonon occurred.
Despite that.
Because he had peeled away the intangible coercion and will that those who had touched the power of ‘Will’ could feel.
The Shepherd knew, and Encrid knew.
Now, the Shepherd’s sword could not be fatal to Encrid. It could not harm him.
Apart from the utility of the blade, the ‘willpower’ contained in that sword could no longer kill Encrid.
Encrid recognized that he had deflected sothing.
It was soone’s lifeti, their life, and their resentnt.
Soone had imbued that sword with ‘Will’.
And he had just broken it.
“…Did you just realize it now?”
The Shepherd was quick-witted.
“Yes.”
He didn’t deny it. He even felt a slight desire to be honest.
It wasn’t just now, there were over four hundred days of ‘today’.
Of course, he couldn’t say that.
“I’ve lost.”
The Shepherd let his arms drop. The tip of the sword in his hand touched the ground.
He looked despondent. He also seed sowhat relieved.
Encrid knew that ‘today’ had ended.
The two moons still shone on them.
Among the long shadows, Encrid’s appeared larger. It was the change in shadows created by the passing moon.
Encrid muttered to himself.
‘This is Will.’
This wasn’t all. It was just a tiny part.
He could only ‘refuse’.
Even so.
“This is crazy.”
He was thrilled to death.
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