Chapter 137 - A New Day
In moments of crisis, humans sometimes exceed their limits.
Drawing out that strength at will—that is the Heart of the Beast.
A name given because it embodies the idea of extracting the heart of a wild beast itself.
In his tribe, they used to say that when one used this technique, the spirit of their god or some shamanistic power would dwell within them.
Well, there was certainly some kind of mystical effect.
A god?
That was just nonsense fit for a stray dog's throat.
'But it's not real sorcery, not by a long shot.'
Having experienced it firsthand and devised his own understanding, Rem had developed his own theory.
'The reason the heart beats faster is because something inside the body triggers it.'
The human body is mysterious.
This is just one of its many mysteries.
When something starts working inside, the muscles tense up.
And then, the Heart of the Beast is activated.
So, it's not sorcery, nor is it divine descent.
When had he first realized this?
It was in a moment between countless axe blades, on the brink of death.
Something surged from within his body, reaching his muscles, and he had suddenly been able to exert strength several times greater than usual.
How had that happened?
Through study and observation, he discovered that when blood surged wildly through the body, the heart beat several times faster than normal.
It required a ritualistic trigger, but at its core, that wasn't what mattered.
He believed it was a matter of focus—of sensation.
"Focus. Again."
Rem continued his thoughts aloud.
Enkrid stood before him.
Soon, they placed their hands over each other's hearts.
That damned lazy bastard had taught him an absurd technique to enhance concentration, so maybe this could work.
If not, then whatever.
Rem had already half given up.
What could he do?
Even in his old tribe, only a handful had grasped this technique.
And every single one of them had bodies like fortresses, having survived the brink of death multiple times.
"I swear, it's like I stepped out of a river."
He used to hear that often.
In short, the Heart of the Beast required the vessel first.
Even if one managed to activate it, the body would break down first.
Could the squad leader handle this?
His vessel wasn't bad.
That hulking religious nut had been forcing him through grueling physical training every morning.
That was tempering his body.
If the musclehead hadn't done it, Rem would have taken it upon himself to forge the squad leader's body in some other way.
But the musclehead's methods seemed more efficient, so he had let it be.
So, the vessel had been mostly prepared.
Still, he wasn't going to force it.
If it worked, he'd push it.
If not, he'd let it go.
"Feel it."
Enkrid listened.
He always did.
As always, he composed himself and focused.
But he had already realized something.
It was when he had learned the art of focus from Ragna.
That man was a genius.
He could learn anything with ease, grasp anything with frightening speed.
What had he said back then?
"Did he say that fear of death enhances concentration?"
That was only half right.
What was truly needed was an opponent who could push one's abilities to their absolute limits.
This was no different.
'No… perhaps it's the opposite this time.'
A small realization led to a conclusion.
What was the Heart of the Beast?
When faced with extreme pressure or similar situations, humans sometimes surpassed their limits.
It was possible.
That was the basis of this technique—the realization that one must experience the pressure of imminent death.
Enkrid had accumulated countless experiences in past battles, in every day of his life.
And with each day, those experiences piled up.
This was the conclusion he had reached.
"More."
Rem's hand touched Enkrid's heart.
So far, he had only conveyed the general sensation of what it should feel like, gently applying pressure to Enkrid's heart.
That was all he had done.
Rem had utilized a bit of shamanistic manipulation—a form of sensory transmission, perhaps—just to give Enkrid a feel for what it was like when the heart started beating faster.
"More."
Enkrid spoke.
His eyes were half-open, deeply focused.
"I've told you before—you need to be careful with this."
From the mouth of a man often called reckless beyond reason, the word careful sounded strange.
It sounded more like you might die if this goes wrong.
Danger.
Crisis.
Pressure.
The very things that demanded caution.
But Enkrid needed them.
That feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff, the wind at his back.
The knowledge that if things went wrong, death was certain.
Not some half-hearted suicide attempt, but the kind of pressure that would force him to struggle with everything he had.
A moment where he truly had no choice but to fight.
If he could feel that while his heart pounded wildly, that would be ideal.
"More."
Enkrid repeated, his half-open eyes unwavering.
Rem furrowed his brows.
Was this bastard actually insane?
People called me a madman, but this guy seemed even more unhinged.
"Let's stop."
Rem tried to withdraw his hand.
But—thud—Enkrid grabbed his wrist.
His left hand pressed against Rem's chest, while his right grasped the wrist that rested on his own heart.
And then, he spoke again.
"Do it."
Because of his lowered gaze, Rem couldn't see Enkrid's eyes.
Had his damn eyes truly gone mad?
"Are you insane?"
Rem's expression turned savage.
This guy was practically asking him to kill him.
There were things that passion and determination alone couldn't overcome.
There were times when one had to recognize their own limits by stepping back.
Rem's thoughts stopped.
A voice tore through his reasoning, his emotions, and his instincts.
"Do it. Just do it."
It was a command.
One that had to be obeyed.
If words held power, then Rem felt that power now.
It wasn't sorcery.
It wasn't an incantation.
Not even that so-called Will that knights wielded.
Deep within his heart, what was Enkrid to him?
Enkrid lifted his gaze.
Their eyes met.
Fire against fire.
Different in color, but both flames capable of consuming each other completely.
Blue fire and gray fire intertwined.
They glared as if they would kill one another.
Was there anything to gain from winning this battle?
No.
At best, one of them would be half-crippled.
And it wouldn't be Rem—it would be the fool standing before him.
So why?
Why did he suddenly want to do it?
Why did he feel compelled to obey this man's command?
Why did he want to obey?
Was it his instincts?
Or had he become too intoxicated by the man called squad leader standing before him?
"Do it."
Enkrid's lips parted once more.
"Damn it, hell."
Rem spat out a curse and tightened his grip around Enkrid's heart.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought crept in—he wouldn't be doing this if he didn't believe in something.
After justifying himself, Rem put his full strength into it.
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
Let the blood circulate madly through his entire body.
The surging pressure of the blood would soon align with his heart.
Thus, his whole body, his muscles, would unleash a power surpassing its limits.
Thump.
Enkrid felt excruciating pain.
He had been stabbed by swords and spears, pierced by arrows.
Having died and died again, one would think he had grown numb to pain.
Yet for some reason, each death still felt new.
Death.
The ferryman of the black river came to mind.
Thump, thump, thu—ump.
Enkrid's eyes snapped open.
Rem was staring at him, his eyes bloodshot.
"Damn it."
Why did I do this?
Why did I listen to this bastard?
Rem regretted it.
And Enkrid was satisfied.
He smiled.
A small realization soon became a signpost for the path he would walk.
Thump.
His heart released its final beat and stopped.
Whatever had been driving him past his limits had struck his heart and halted it.
That was death.
Darkness began to spread around him.
"Enough."
Amidst the descending darkness, Jaxen's voice reached him.
"You barbarian lunatic."
Ragna's voice followed.
"Brother, what have you done?"
He felt rough hands clutching his wrist.
But it was all too late.
Neither divinity nor any miraculous elixir could revive a heart that had stopped, a man who had boarded the cradle of death.
Enkrid was dead.
It was a unique experience.
Some might even call it suicide.
He had searched and searched for another way to attain the Heart of Monstrous Strength, but there was none.
This was the best choice—the desperate result of his struggles.
Give up on the Heart of Monstrous Strength?
If he had been willing to give up,
he would have settled.
He did not settle.
He moved forward.
Even if it was just half a step, even if he had to crawl.
A tremor twisted through his entire body.
He had endured all the waves of pain.
Swoosh.
The darkness faded, and when he opened his eyes—
The ferryman of the black river stood before him.
He said nothing.
The ferryman only spoke and smiled when he chose to reveal his intent.
Now, he did neither.
All Enkrid could feel was a silent, unblinking gaze.
A gaze filled with curiosity and doubt.
"What in the world is this bastard?"
***
By the time Enkrid opened his eyes again, it was early dawn.
Just the start of another day, as always.
Sitting up in bed, he let out a deep breath and spoke.
"This is really damn messed up, Rem."
"...I'm awake, you know. I can hear everything."
"I know."
"And yet you're cursing at me first thing in the morning? Did I appear naked in your dreams or something?"
"No, it's just really damn messed up."
A technique that could only be grasped by wagering one's life.
It really was absurd.
And yet—
On the day before his death, on a day that Rem would never remember, Enkrid had smiled.
He was satisfied.
The moment he saw the path ahead, it always filled him with exhilaration.
"Good morning."
With that brief remark, Enkrid stepped outside to begin his day.
"...Didn't you just say it was messed up?"
Behind him, Rem pouted in protest.
He was certain now—his squad leader was anything but normal.
And he wasn't wrong.
Enkrid embraced a new day.
A day in spring, a season said to be infused with magic.
The world was still in the midst of spring.
And Enkrid knew he would have to savor this season for now.
Changing his heart wouldn't be easy.
"What a beautiful day."
A day where the path ahead was clear.
He didn't hate it.
After that, Enkrid died many more times.
But there were also days when he failed to die and simply endured.
An intentional death.
Would the next day just proceed as usual?
He had wondered.
But it seemed everything looped back to the first death.
Rather than pondering the mechanics of it, his greater issue was persuading Rem.
There were days he failed, unable to convince him, only to push his body beyond its limits instead.
When he woke the next morning, the day had reset to the original today.
A turning point marked by death.
How was this even happening?
He questioned it briefly but quickly dismissed the thought.
What good would it do to think about it?
All that mattered was pushing his body further each day.
On the days when he failed to die, he had no choice but to endure.
Even though he spoke with all the conviction and sincerity he could muster, the results always varied.
***
"Trust me."
"You seriously think this makes any damn sense? This is insane!"
On the rare days he succeeded—when he convinced Rem—he saw an expression on him he had never seen before.
A mix of shock, disbelief, sheer bewilderment, and something akin to intoxication.
"No, it's not happening."
On the days when Rem refused, his expression was resolute.
What was the difference between those two "todays"?
It didn't seem like there was much of a difference.
He spoke with the same sincerity every time.
The difference was just one thing.
After about sixty-six repetitions, he started to understand.
What was missing beyond sincerity and determination?
"Do it."
It needed to be an order.
But why?
Why would someone like Rem follow his words so faithfully?
Curiosity poked its head up, but he pushed it aside.
Maybe one day he'd understand, but that day wasn't today.
"Do it."
"Do it."
"Do it."
"Do it."
"Do it."
"Do it."
"Just do it."
"Just do it."
"Do it."
"Do it."
"Just do it already."
"Do it."
"Shut up and do it."
He endured countless todays.
Days that passed, again and again.
"Huh? What?"
Eventually, he didn't even need Rem's touch.
Around the eightieth repetition, it seemed.
After that, it felt like he was going mad, doing it all alone.
Thanks to mastering the technique, he didn't need Rem to help him anymore.
After repeating it a few more times—
The ferryman of the black river appeared in his dreams once more.
"It was not a wall."
The ferryman spoke, and Enkrid listened.
He still couldn't reply.
There was no hint of emotion in the ferryman's words.
A boat drifting on the black river, the ferryman, the gentle ripples.
Enkrid was standing on the boat.
"Go."
With the ferryman's command, Enkrid opened his eyes.
He didn't dwell on the words or question them.
He couldn't even bring himself to ask why Rem was so obedient, so why try to understand a ferryman whose hobby was rowing?
But the words lingered in his heart—"It was not a wall."
What is a wall?
A barrier that makes today repeat endlessly.
The ferryman's words meant that what was happening now was beyond his control.
"So, what am I supposed to do about it?"
But that wasn't for Enkrid to worry about.
Whether deeply rooted or barely noticeable, he shrugged it off.
There was too much to do to worry about the trivial things.
***
"Good morning, Rem."
Enkrid greeted and got up.
"Huh? How'd you know I was awake?"
"Just a guess."
How could he not know after repeating this day over a hundred times?
With the start of a new day, Enkrid activated the Heart of Monstrous Strength.
Thump!
His heart pounded, empowering his entire body.
Blood rushed wildly, like horses galloping on a well-paved road.
Thump.
But his heart didn't burst.
"...Just two questions," Rem said from behind.
He had timed it so Rem would see, to prove he had mastered it.
To show that he had done it.
"First, are you from the West? And second," Rem hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
"Are you actually a genius?"
Enkrid chuckled.
To think he'd hear such words from Rem—it was unexpected.
"No, to both."
He replied calmly, but Rem's expression was one of disbelief.
"But you managed to do it in a day?"
For Enkrid, it wasn't just a day.
But to Rem, it was.
From his perspective, Enkrid had grasped a technique he couldn't even understand yesterday, all in one night.
His skin flushed red, Enkrid steadied himself after using the Heart of Monstrous Strength and spoke.
"You can think, wonder, and be shocked all you want, but—"
"Want to spar?"
Didn't they both just want to move their bodies?
"Sigh, sure."
Rem agreed.
He wasn't one to overthink things either.
Thump.
Sword and axe met.
They exchanged greetings through their weapons, ready to dive into another sparring session—a chance to measure growth.