Chapter 141: Chapter 295 - What is Your Dream?
Enkrid stopped and looked up. The dark sky, thick with gloomy clouds, stretched overhead.
'It feels like something's about to fall.'
How many times had today passed?
It was different from before. In the past, no matter how many times he repeated things, he could always gauge what number today was.
He had remembered today in different ways each time.
But this time, it was different.
Why had it changed? Why was he accepting things differently now?
'Because my field of vision has narrowed.'
It felt like he could handle what was right in front of him and move forward.
Being human, Enkrid had grown impatient.
That impatience consumed his field of vision. It blocked him from seeing the situation properly.
It felt like he was a racehorse.
His peripheral vision was blocked, forcing him to run only in one direction.
Who did this? The situation did.
And the boatman added his own flavor to it.
'Have I been had?'
Or had he learned?
He had learned. There's always something to learn from everything.
Enkrid felt the wind and smelled the scent of the battlefield, which had lingered for two days, as he looked up at the dark sky.
It didn't end with just seeing, hearing, and feeling.
Enkrid forgot the gazes of others. For a moment, he even forgot where he was. He pushed the current situation aside.
Afterward, he reflected.
He reflected on the today that had passed, over and over again.
This was a new experience even for Enkrid.
Even though the child's steps were slow, it wasn't a long time.
In that short time, the reflection began and ended.
'The boatman's words were part of the problem.'
But his own fault for focusing too much on one thing was even greater.
'Focusing on one point also blurs the vision.'
Everyone around Enkrid had questions about his behavior.
It was strange enough that he stepped forward just because one child was running toward him.
Even stranger was that he had gone out alone, as though to meet the child.
Then, he didn't approach the child. He stood there, still. That was the strangest part of all.
This sequence of absurd actions had left everyone's minds in disarray.
"Damn, what's he doing?"
One of the enemy muttered.
"Just watch."
A mercenary from the Black Blade group tapped a soldier on the head and said.
No matter who was involved, the situation itself was simply bewildering.
Why wouldn't it be?
On one side, a child had appeared, and on the other, the hero from Border Guard, who had been fighting the enemy leader, emerged.
It was utterly absurd, but those watching expected Enkrid to embrace the child.
If not, they thought he would treat the child as an enemy and cut him down.
Humans try to predict the next event based on the current situation. This is called anticipation.
Now, Enkrid had gathered everyone's attention with an unexpected, out-of-the-ordinary action.
"Looks like snow is coming."
Enkrid muttered while standing alone on the battlefield, but no one was listening.
What is he doing?
The confusion and absurdity mixed, causing the hands of the enemy to stop. They were forced to observe the current situation.
The old mage, who had connected the spell's link to activate the scroll, was still in a state of concentration.
If he took his eyes off it for even a moment, the magical link would disappear.
Then, he wouldn't be able to remotely activate the scroll.
The child had no room to check the surroundings.
He just ran because he was told to.
'I want to live.'
The child wished desperately. From the moment he was captured, he instinctively knew survival was impossible, but a sliver of hope pushed him forward.
Maybe, somehow, he could survive. Who knows, maybe the goddess of fortune would shed a tear for him.
Luck was always a variable.
'I'll survive no matter what.'
The child's survival instinct made his feet move instead of shedding tears.
Then, Enkrid, after taking in the surrounding situation and reflecting, realized several elements he had missed.
The scroll…
'Someone is watching and will trigger it. They can't be far. They must be within my visible range. This wasn't a move made with high expectations, but still, it was a clever ruse. How? They know me.'
His intuition flared again.
Now was not the time to focus entirely.
If someone was watching him, all he needed to do was hide his intent and buy some time.
'How to hide my intentions from the opponent.'
All he had to do was divert their attention with an unexpected action.
This was the foundation of Valah-style mercenary swordsmanship.
With this, Enkrid showcased his swordsmanship.
He also mixed in what he had learned from Krais.
Krais knew how to capture the attention of those around him and exude an atmosphere.
Enkrid mimicked that.
Subtle hand gestures and minute movements of the body, shifting weight to his right foot while pulling his injured leg back to stabilize himself for a limp.
The posture suggested that he might spring forward at any moment.
While Krais focused attention through speeches,
Enkrid used his actions to draw all eyes to him.
In the stance that looked as though he would leap forward at any second, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
'He's drawing it.'
'He's striking.'
These were the movements that made everyone think that way.
It was only then that the child finally recognized Enkrid.
'Ah, I'm going to die.'
The child gave up on life.
His steps slowed.
Enkrid was now in the old mage's line of sight. The preparation to activate the scroll had been made. His field of view widened, and the target was clearly identified.
The child was just five steps away from the activation range of the spell.
Enkrid used the technique from that stance.
It was called swordsmanship, but it was a skill that could not truly be called swordsmanship.
Whether it could truly be called swordsmanship was uncertain.
The author called it a technique, an art.
Valen's mercenary sword style, "One-Eye Diversion."
Enkrid twitched slightly, shaking his shoulder before turning his head to the side. The distance was too far to see his expression, but it was clear to anyone that he had turned his head in surprise.
People can convey their intentions through actions, without having to speak aloud.
"It's not about hiding the intention, but covering it."
What was needed was just a brief opening.
Even the wizard, whose head turned sideways, seemed momentarily dazed.
What's over there?
Everyone's awareness shifted to the side for a moment.
This included Lykanos and the entire enemy force.
Even the allies, including Commander Graham, Audin, and the Madmen unit, were deceived.
It was perfect.
And there was nothing there.
Only the wind blowing, accompanied by swirling dust. A dry, harsh, biting wind.
"I've been tricked!" Lykanos shouted.
In the meantime, Enkrid leaped forward.
The instinct for evasion triggered in an instant.
Enkrid added his intent to that instinct.
Combining all his speed from today, the fastest sword strike flew.
The strength in the joints of his left fingers was just right, and the muscles that extended were flexible.
On the other hand, his body felt heavy.
The air pressed in on him as though he were stuck in mud.
In the suffocating pressure of the air, his head and eyes burned.
He saw the child's shocked eyes, the snot running down their face, and their mouth agape.
Everything seemed slow.
In the slowed world, Enkrid alone stretched his sword forward.
The wind was pushed back as he sliced through.
The blade cut the string that held the scroll, stabbing and slicing the tied parts.
The space the blade passed through left faint scars on the child's body.
It wasn't a flashy technique—it was a strike focused purely on speed.
He couldn't perform some magic to merely cut the outer garments.
A quick snap.
The scroll was severed and flew into the air.
Enkrid, still holding the child, leapt sideways.
The forceful movement caused a wound on his left shin, but now was not the time to worry about that.
The old wizard had not completely lost focus, but there was a crack in his concentration.
This delayed the magic activation slightly.
In a flash, the scroll once again emitted light.
Enkrid rolled with the child in his arms.
A burning heat swept across his back. It felt like a flame licking his back.
His back burned, but he survived. The child in his arms was still alive.
"Ha," he exhaled, his hot breath brushing the child's hair.
He lay diagonally on the ground.
"...Ah."
Everyone fell silent. No one could speak about what Enkrid had just done.
Even the allies couldn't find words.
Meanwhile, Enkrid took a brief pause to catch his breath, still holding the child, and asked:
"What's your dream?"
"...Huh?"
The child was in such a dazed state that they couldn't even tell if they were alive or dead.
They had probably wet themselves.
Their thighs were damp.
Enkrid ignored the mess flowing over his armor and asked again:
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
It was an unimportant question. It was meant to reassure the child, and it was also something that had come to his mind from some past moment.
It wasn't deeply meaningful.
"I... I want to be a herbalist, like my mother," the child said.
Their eyes, once filled with terror, now spoke of life.
The days ahead, the days of living.
The child was determined. They walked steadily, running toward life even as they dashed toward death.
Enkrid had wanted to be a knight.
The childish dream from his youth had led him to this point.
He often asked himself why he swung his sword.
The answer had never come clearly.
However, today, his sword would be swung for the child who held a dream.
"Alright."
He rose, pushing the child from behind him.
"My back, my back!"
The child mumbled, voice trembling.
"Run. Don't look back."
In response to the child's murmuring, Enkrid shouted without taking a breath:
"Ragna!"
Come and cover my side.
Without needing to say more, Ragna would understand.
Enkrid's gaze returned to the front. It was right after the magic activation had failed.
Lykanos was charging toward him, wearing a menacing expression.
Around him, red-eyed figures were charging forward, each holding a spiked sword. They seemed to be on something, their state was abnormal. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their limbs swelled unnaturally.
With their thickened legs, they stomped the ground, rushing forward fiercely.
"Kill them!" Lykanos shouted as he discarded his flail's scabbard.
He had just been struck a moment ago. If they let their guard down, it would be their turn to fall.
The enemy's injury was irrelevant.
Enkrid raised his sword.
The blue-bladed longsword in his left hand faced the oncoming enemy.
He pointed the sword's tip forward, meeting the advancing foes.
From all four directions—left, right, up, and down—spiked swords rushed at him, with Lykanos leading the charge.
The blades aimed at him seemed to come at once, but they were not synchronized.
Little by little, there was a difference.
It was visible.
In Enkrid's line of sight, points and points once again appeared and connected. Then, squeezing his muscles, he swung his sword.
Thud thud thud thud!
Five swords were deflected.
The swords, moving with terrifying speed, stayed true to their defense, yet none of the blades touched Enkrid's body.
When the five swords aimed to strike at him, Enkrid acted before the swords could reach him.
He stretched his left foot sideways and then, with a push of his right foot, took a slope step.
Naturally, his body turned slightly.
Shifting his position to the left, he knocked aside two swords coming from that direction.
Then, with quick footwork, he took a step and a half back, deflecting two more sword strikes coming from the right.
The final strike was deflected with the blade of his own sword, sending Lykanos's thrust off to the side.
'A mistake!'
Blocking the attacks of his four subordinates left a gap, and he had intended to strike in that gap, but he didn't use his fastest sword technique.
He simply struck at a speed he considered appropriate.
As a result, Enkrid was able to block the five swords.
What shocked Lykanos even more was the speed of the opponent's sword.
"You bastard!"
Did he suddenly improve like this?
At least, the speed of his sword strikes was never this fast. Now, it seemed to rival his own speed.
In reality, it was all the repetition of today and the experience he had accumulated over time. But to his opponent, there was no way to know that.
It only looked like Enkrid had simply mimicked his most powerful sword technique after seeing it once.
Of course, Lykanos himself had also trained endlessly by observing other swordsmen.
But did that really matter now?
The move Enkrid showed earlier was just unsettling.
Lykanos was confident that if he swung his sword a few more times here, he could kill Enkrid.
But things don't always go as planned.
Thwack!
The sharp sound of a strike echoed.
Skrrrk!
A sickening sound of flesh and armor being torn followed.
Pwooooosh!
A scream, accompanied by a loud noise, rang out.
Something slammed into their ranks, crushing their soldiers.
But it wasn't a whole unit.
It was a lone human charging forward.
Blonde hair flew in the air. Without a helmet, the figure swung a long and massive sword with frightening force.
Red eyes left trails in the air, followed by the blonde hair, and the sword came after.
The way the sword was swung so violently made the large, thick sword appear as if it was bending.
Swish! Thwack!
Downward slashes, horizontal strikes, and thrusts followed in quick succession.
Every strike was a deadly art.
His own troops were falling one after another without rest.
"Ughhh!"
Even though they had taken drugs before the battle, they were being overwhelmed. The opponent was a monster.
"This is my part."
Ragna, who had arrived, spoke as he passed by. Blood dripped from his blonde hair, a result of his previous upward strike that cleaved a soldier in half, scattering his innards and blood.
"Damn it."
Lykanos's eyes widened. It was a crisis. A danger. A threat.
But this couldn't be the end.
Because there were more than just swords involved here.
"Now!"
The Wolf Bishop decided that if they delayed any further, they wouldn't be able to have any fun.
"Destroy the unbelievers!"
At the bishop's cry, the fanatical group sprang into action.
In reality, their numbers were not that many.
Their main force consisted of wolf monsters.
The Wolf Bishop gave a command to the leader of the monsters connected to him.
"Kill them all."
Soon, the monsters rushed forward like a wave.
Their numbers were far more than what was predicted within Border Guard.
Hundreds of monsters appeared here and there and charged forward.
"You must move as well."
The bishop spoke to a man standing nearby. He was an outsider, a barbarian mercenary type.
The man, who had been idly spinning his halberd a few times, replied.
"It's not my turn yet."
"This guy?"
The Wolf Bishop didn't like him, but he acknowledged his strength.
Had he come to gain something for the sake of immortality and fire?
What a ridiculous fool.
If he truly wanted something, he should throw himself into the church.
It was laughable that he thought he could gain something through a transaction.
The bishop sneered at him and followed the monsters.
Soon, his eyes caught sight of enemies charging towards them.
"Heavy infantry, move forward!"
Some of them stepped forward to block, but it was laughable.
'Brother.'
The bishop called out to his brother through their mental connection, and from the wolf monsters' ranks, a much larger one rose up.
Howww!
The howl of a wolf pierced the air. It wasn't just a wolf; it was a monstrous wolf whose howl shattered the air and exuded an overwhelming presence.
Just looking at it was enough to send chills down one's spine.
A dire wolf born into a monster.
Its black, glossy fur absorbed all the light around it, making everything seem darker.
Snowflakes were falling from the sky, but the heat radiating from the dire wolf caused the snow to melt before it even touched its body, evaporating into thin air.
It felt as though this was the fate of the future—their very existence melting away.
The leading soldier of the heavy infantry swallowed his saliva as he stared at the creature.
Could they stop it?
Doubt filled his mind.
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