Chapter 65: Chapter 230 - Ah, This Sounds Fun
The question from the ferryman lingered in his mind.
"Do you think knowing will help you win?"
Enkrid remembered his own answer.
"I don't care if I know."
It was the truth—there wasn't a single lie in it.
What mattered more was that fighting the shepherd was incredibly enjoyable.
How should I put it?
The half-blood giant, Jevikal, Count Molsen's guard, the rapier-wielding swordsman, and all those who had been by his side: Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin.
All of them had been motivating, but the shepherd was different.
The skill was almost equal, and the attitude, the age—everything was a factor.
Above all, Enkrid felt like he was advancing.
It wasn't that his skill had dramatically improved after a single duel or a brush with death. Even though his senses had sharpened, his body now moved as he wished, and he possessed superhuman concentration that allowed him to dodge arrows, it was the sense of progress that brought him joy.
"A star has risen."
Enkrid stepped out before Bell came.
The sky was filled with twinkling stars and two moons—dual moons. It was an exceptionally bright night.
The cool autumn air was far more refreshing than summer.
A gentle breeze brushed against his ear. It wouldn't be long before the cold would set in.
The short autumn was to his liking, and he felt content with the temperature.
Just as he was lost in thought, Rem peeked out of the inn with his head sticking out.
"There's still mosquitoes. What are you doing?"
Weng.
Before he could finish his sentence, a mosquito flew past his ear.
With a swift motion, Enkrid raised his left hand and snatched the mosquito out of the air, crushing it in his fist.
"Going for a night stroll," Enkrid said as he turned to leave.
"Suddenly?"
"I feel like it."
"You're being awfully sentimental. What, are you upset for losing again?"
Enkrid took a step and asked, "What would you do if you had a foe you couldn't even touch?"
"I'd smash their skull before they even moved," Rem answered easily, having become used to Enkrid's random questions.
After that, he scratched his ear and added, "You know, your questions are always kind of random."
"Really?" Enkrid agreed, understanding why.
There were times when only he could walk, only he could experience the present, and only he could enjoy the moment.
Enkrid's questions came from the very moments and timelines that he was going through.
"They really are random," Enkrid replied lightly, continuing to walk.
"Make sure you visit the temple. Your head's been rattling pretty badly, you know."
That guy.
Really, Rem's mouth was a problem. Thanks to him, the ferryman had also said something strange earlier.
Anyway.
Enkrid thought that walls seemed to appear unexpectedly in front of him, as if manipulated by the ferryman.
Or was this simply how life worked?
Unexpected moments, unpredictable deaths—if this was another wall, then it couldn't be overcome through just one death. Yet still, 'Ah, this sounds fun.'
He felt an irresistible thrill.
He walked on and soon met Bell, just as he had expected, walking down the road that led to the gates.
"Ah? Where are you going?" Bell asked.
"Where are you going?" Enkrid replied.
"I was on my way to call the captain."
The same conversation as before happened again.
Enkrid reflected on the things he had experienced.
The priest, the scream that shook his head the moment the blade struck, the horrendous shrieks that seemed to come from the bottom of hell.
It wasn't the sound that mattered, but the sensation of something sinking into his body.
It wasn't a spell or poison.
If anything, it was the scream of someone filled with rage.
'For now,' he thought, shaking off the thought. First, the fight. The duel. The opponent's skill was impressive, even without the sword.
Let's see, maybe he should approach it like Rem.
Enkrid couldn't hide his joy, and a smile spread across his face as he thought about it.
Bell tilted his head. He couldn't help but feel like something was off.
"Are you feeling sick? If you are, I can bail you out."
Bell said with concern.
"No," Enkrid answered firmly, his eyes wide open and his back straight.
"Eh?"
"No." He said it as a warning.
Enkrid's steps were light.
If anyone knew his current situation, every one of the company members would shake their heads in disbelief.
This was the step of someone approaching death.
Was it really like a child's steps on a picnic?
Enkrid walked briskly out the gates.
Another familiar conversation ended.
"Then."
Enkrid readied himself, and the opponent drew a dagger.
Joy, excitement, and anticipation stirred his heart. His skin prickled in excitement.
Then Enkrid followed Rem's advice.
Boom.
He unleashed the full force of his heart, swinging the sword.
Whoosh.
The lion's strike with the greatsword.
It slashed downward in a way that was so fast, the moving target barely had time to react.
The opponent responded. Maybe he realized he couldn't block the attack with just a dagger.
Clang! Thud!
The blade was drawn halfway from its scabbard, the shepherd's hand gripping the hilt while his other hand held the scabbard to block.
Clang!
The lion's strike was blocked. Both opponents exerted force, holding each other in a deadlock.
Grrrrk.
The two blades met, exchanging greetings.
Iron against iron, the battle was now a symphony.
The blades crossed in mid-air, and Enkrid's and the shepherd's gazes locked.
For a moment, the two assessed each other's strength with just their eyes.
Enkrid thought to himself that the shepherd's skill might be superior to what he had seen on this repeated day.
'What if he's someone who usually uses a sword but is using a dagger now?'
That could be the case.
But it didn't matter. Whether the opponent drew his sword or not, that was his choice.
Enkrid had chosen his path and would press on.
Bell, who had been watching from a distance, swallowed nervously.
At that moment, their blades parted.
The battle continued, much like the intense combat from earlier today.
Enkrid pressed the shepherd, ignoring the minor cuts caused by the dagger. As long as he avoided vital spots, he tried to land blows wherever possible.
Trusting his physical senses and natural athleticism, he aimed to end the fight with a single strike.
In response, the shepherd drew his sword again.
This time, the strike was different from the one that had grazed his forehead.
Ting! Tang! Clang!
The shepherd deftly blocked Enkrid's swift one-handed thrust with his dagger, then used his other hand to toss the scabbard upward. As the scabbard flew, he drew his sword.
Fully immersed in the fight, Enkrid reacted to everything his opponent did.
He pulled the dagger away from his sword with force, allowing him to bring down the sword in a heavy, cleaving strike. The scabbard, flying through the air, was blocked with his forehead.
Even though the scabbard bounced off his forehead, Enkrid didn't close his eyes.
If he didn't lose sight of the opponent's sword, he could still evade.
He had a sense of evasion. It wasn't impossible.
Whoosh!
The shepherd grabbed the sword he had thrown into the air. The blade twisted like a snake and slashed across Enkrid's cheek.
He tried to dodge, but he was just half an inch short.
The intense battle, immersed in focus, continued.
'I saw it, but...'
The opponent's skill was formidable. Enkrid judged that the shepherd was on a level above Jebikal.
To not even touch such an opponent's blade—it was difficult, very difficult.
Of course, just because it was difficult didn't mean Enkrid would give up.
He simply reflected on what he had learned from today's duel.
A scream echoed in his ear once more.
"Damn, I didn't mean to do that..."
He heard the shepherd muttering to himself.
Groooan.
The eerie, hellish sound that seemed to drag his ankle down from the depths of the abyss.
His body felt heavier.
Enkrid already knew what was happening from past experience.
And the pain he knew could kill him, but it wouldn't stop him.
"What's that sword?"
"...Are you ok?"
"I think I'm about to die. Answer me."
"Even after being cut, you still talk? You're an interesting one. This is a sword with the soul of a demon in it. I swore never to use it on a person... so I apologize."
His words were scattered, still as mindless as ever.
"Alright, I understand. Fell."
"...Did I say my name?"
No, Enkrid had heard it during their first encounter.
That was the end.
He died.
"You're insane."
The ferryman appeared twice in a row.
Seeing this, Enkrid unwittingly voiced his thoughts.
It wasn't intentional. This was a dream, and because of it, he couldn't hide his true feelings.
"Bored lately?"
The ferryman's body swayed on the boat, the violet lamp swaying along with it.
Silence fell. Brief, but profoundly quiet. The black river made no sound at all.
At the end of the silence:
"Damn..."
The ferryman muttered something that sounded like a curse, but then Enkrid woke up.
Enkrid immediately began questioning Ragna.
"Is there a swordsmanship style that can block every strike?"
"Where did you hear that? It's the peak of the Flowing Sword style."
The Flowing Sword was a sword that flows—both attacking and defending simultaneously.
"Can you do it?"
"Basics, at least."
If the speed and timing were such that even evasion wouldn't work...
'Then I'll just block it.'
Enkrid decided to learn the basics of the Flowing Sword style from Ragna and head out again in the evening.
Still.
'Today's going to be even more fun.'
Thanks to two prior encounters, Enkrid had learned a few habits of his opponent.
Today, he would use them against him.
Thus, the third day of the repeated battles.
"Do you know me?"
"No."
"Then why do you look at me like that? Is pretending to be friendly your habit?"
The shepherd tilted his head, puzzled.
Enkrid ignored him.
They clashed again. What he had thought was a habit turned out to be a trap—a lesson learned only after falling for it.
Barely winning and clashing swords once again.
Snick.
This time, the blade grazed his thigh.
Without armor, the blade cut through his pants and left a wound.
Another scream echoed from the abyss.
Before Enkrid could speak, a similar question came again.
"Do you have it?"
Why did he keep asking if he had something?
"What?"
The shepherd answered as though it was obvious.
"Will."
"No."
Enkrid didn't get another word out before he died.
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