Chapter 152 - What Makes a Knight Different?
As Aishia made her way back, she couldn't help but find it peculiar.
'This might be a first.'
A man who didn't even know how to wield a knight's power, yet endured with his bare body.
He hadn't overcome the 'oppression'—he had simply endured it.
No, looking back on it all, he had even managed to extend his foot forward by about a finger's length.
She was a squire knight, and her sharp gaze caught even the slightest movements of her opponent.
He had been trying to move forward.
It was an advance.
How many soldiers could do that?
Were there any at all?
Probably not.
'Well, if he manages to aquire it, he'll turn into some kind of monster.'
But that was no easy feat.
'Forget it.'
That Frog bastard was still there—she could handle it.
She had received a request, and she had done her part.
That was the end of it.
Aishia forgot about Enkrid just like that.
There was no need to remember him.
Though, she did like that spirit of his, that stubbornness.
And, well, she did like his face too.
'Not like I'll ever see him again.'
Talent was cruel, after all.
The goddess of fortune was never fair.
Clip-clop.
The horse carrying her struck the ground with its hooves and surged forward.
It was time to return.
***
'Why?'
Vengeance felt an inexplicable sense of unease and restlessness.
A squire knight had come and evaluated Enkrid.
His skill had been assessed, and even a talent appraiser—Frog—had been brought in.
As a result, harsh words had been exchanged.
'Why go that far?'
Did they want to crush his motivation?
Did they dislike how dedicated he was to training?
Vengeance had no idea what was going through Battalion Commander Marcus's mind.
Why did he have to provoke Enkrid, who was just staying quiet?
Saying he couldn't become a knight?
That his limits were clear, so he should quit?
Why?
What was the point?
Vengeance didn't know Enkrid's dream.
He also didn't know about the conversation between Enkrid and Marcus.
So it was only natural for these questions to arise.
Enkrid had never hidden his faded dream, but he also didn't go around shouting it into people's ears.
"That bastard battalion commander has a nasty personality."
Grumbling, Vengeance headed to Enkrid's quarters.
Knock, knock.
"It's me, Vengeance."
"Oh? It's the ugly platoon leader. What do you want?"
At the sound of his knock, Rem answered, immediately getting under his skin.
He had to ignore him.
If he engaged in conversation, it would only lead to a fight.
And the result of that?
If it were Enkrid, a single knee strike to the thigh would settle it.
But Rem?
He couldn't even begin to imagine.
In short, fighting was not an option.
"Where's Enki?"
"Sleeping."
Wasn't he unconscious rather than sleeping?
And why the hell was this guy acting so casual?
He had expected Rem to be sharpening his axe, ready to split Marcus's head open for trying to crush his platoon leader's spirit.
Well, if he were the type to lose his temper and rage around the barracks, he would have already swung that axe long ago.
That's the kind of guy he was.
Inside, Ragna was asleep again.
Vengeance watched him for a moment, wondering if he was truly asleep.
Yes, he was.
He wasn't snoring, but his steady breaths and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest confirmed it.
Jaxen sat in one corner, rolling up some tobacco leaves.
A dedicated effort.
He had heard that a woman named Finn had joined, but she wasn't present.
Krais was also nowhere to be seen.
Only the Frog, whom he had seen standing guard in the morning, was still there.
It was almost noon.
Was she planning to settle in here permanently?
They seemed surprisingly at ease.
It was strange.
Shouldn't they be comforting Enkrid when he woke up?
Or at least pretending that conversation had never happened?
As Vengeance glanced around, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
Right on cue, Enkrid stirred awake.
Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his face.
"Oh, you're up."
Vengeance was the first to react.
Then—
"They said you can't become a knight. Not even a sliver of a chance, not even as much as a ghoul's brain."
Rem spat out the words with a smirk.
"Brother, you're awake? Here, have this."
Beside him, a man named Audin held out a piece of bread.
It looked soft and fresh, as if it had been bought from one of the new bakeries that had recently opened in the city.
No, wait—this wasn't the time to be thinking about that.
Ragna kept sleeping.
Jaxen carefully packed his rolled tobacco into a leather pouch.
"Hm, alright."
Enkrid's response was calm.
He answered nonchalantly, took the bread, and headed outside.
Frog, who had been silently observing, finally spoke.
"They said you can't become a knight. Are you okay with that?"
Enkrid turned his head slightly, lowered his chin, then raised it again—a nod.
"Yeah, sure."
He didn't know the frog's exact status, but if she had come with a squire-knight, she had to be at least at that level herself.
And since she had been brought in as a talent appraiser, she probably held a rank equivalent to a noble.
Enkrid thought for a moment before answering.
There was no sign of shock on his face.
Vengeance, standing in the doorway, blinked as he stared at him.
"Still looking for payback for last night's match?"
Enkrid asked.
"Nah, not that..."
He had come out of concern, but for some reason, those words wouldn't leave his mouth.
"What's this, ugly platoon leader? Have you sharpened the blade of vengeance? Then come at me."
Rem egged him on for no reason, but Vengeance didn't take the bait.
Hadn't he already tried?
The bruise on his thigh hadn't even faded yet.
Enkrid stepped outside.
Vengeance stared blankly at his back for a moment before turning away.
"Aren't you going to, I don't know, console him or something?"
Vengeance asked, still looking at Enkrid's back.
Not necessarily comfort, but at least some concern?
What if he let go of his sword?
What if he gave up?
What if he quit?
What if he despaired because someone poked at his lack of talent?
Vengeance knew this was a ridiculous situation.
Who was he to interfere?
Why should he care whether Enkrid quit or not?
It was just that the scene he had witnessed weighed on his mind.
No one had ordered him to do anything.
He wasn't moving with any calculation.
It was just how he felt.
He simply couldn't stand by and do nothing.
At Vengeance's words, Rem chuckled.
That laugh—it was the same as always.
Not one of pretense.
"Who are you trying to console? The captain?"
Rem.
"Haha, brother, you really don't understand our squad leader."
Audin.
"The squad leader is the squad leader."
Even Jaxen added.
"Hm? The squad leader?"
Ragna, who had just woken up, asked nonchalantly.
Vengeance reflexively pointed outside.
"He left. Training?"
Who knew?
But Ragna didn't even wait for an answer.
He cracked his neck left and right, grabbed his sword, and moved.
Vengeance instinctively stepped aside.
Without so much as a greeting, Ragna walked out.
What was this?
Vengeance couldn't shake the feeling that he was being subtly ignored.
"The squad leader will be fine."
Rem finished his thought.
Hearing that, Frog reacted.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Experience."
A brief exchange, and Frog soon got up.
Experience—so she'd understand if she saw it for herself.
Then all she had to do was go and see.
See for herself how Enkrid acted.
Ragna left, and Frog immediately followed.
Vengeance's thoughts were a mess.
How could they be so indifferent after hearing something like that?
"What do you think our squad leader's original skill level was? Does his current level even make sense? What do you think, ugly platoon leader?"
Rem's voice kept coming.
As he rolled around on his bunk, he reached out to poke Esther for no reason.
Esther bared her claws and slashed at him, but Rem swiftly pulled his finger away, dodging the attack.
Her blue eyes locked onto him.
Rem grinned and held up his palm, as if to say he'd stop messing around.
Vengeance, who had been watching, muttered something offhand and turned away.
"Must be nice being handsome, you little shit."
Something like that.
Why did Rem keep harping on about him being ugly?
Looking at that bastard made his blood boil.
How was it fair that someone that skilled also had a face like that?
Ah, at least there was one good thing.
His personality was a real piece of work.
No wonder they were called the Madmen Squad.
At least Vengeance had a better personality.
The world just didn't see it.
As he walked back to his quarters, thoughts swirled in Vengeance's head.
Especially Rem's last words.
"What do you think our squad leader's original skill level was? Does his current level even make sense? What do you think, ugly platoon leader?"
Step by step.
It didn't make sense.
No matter how he thought about it, it didn't make sense.
Especially his rate of growth.
What had Enkrid been like originally?
A pitiful fool, flailing in place no matter how much he swung his sword.
"If it were me, I'd have quit ages ago."
Even the bystanders watching would mutter things like that.
Vengeance remembered those words.
There had been plenty who didn't hesitate to mock Enkrid back then.
"And how the hell did that idiot become a squad leader in the first place? Must be some serious fucking favoritism."
Some even spat words filled with disgust.
Back then, Vengeance hadn't liked Enkrid either.
"But look at these idiots, criticizing someone when they don't even have the guts to swing a sword every day. What a bunch of crazy bastards."
What had he done to that guy back then?
Yeah, I completely wrecked it.
I just didn't like it—the bastard, the words he spoke, Enkrid, and even that stubborn perseverance of his, swinging his sword every day.
Back then, there were plenty of people who badmouthed Enkrid.
And just then, one of them happened to be right in front of me.
"Hey, you."
A soldier approached at the call.
"Yes, Platoon Leader."
"Do you think Platoon Leader Enkrid's skills make any sense right now?"
"...What?"
"His skills. What do you think?"
"Uh, well, they've improved."
Now, there was a different emotion mixed in the soldier's eyes—admiration and determination.
"Why do you think he improved?"
"Excuse me?"
'What the hell, is this guy an idiot?'
Vengeance read that very thought in the soldier's expression and shook his head.
"Never mind."
Dismissing him, Vengeance mulled over the reason.
Ultimately, there was only one.
That unwavering perseverance.
And what makes that perseverance possible?
'He doesn't know how to give up.'
He doesn't succumb to despair or hopelessness.
That was why, even though he disliked Enkrid, he couldn't bring himself to hate him.
It was the same reason for both his dislike and his admiration.
He never turns back.
He never retreats.
He keeps moving forward, envisioning the future. He dreams.
A man who advances for the sake of his own life.
A man who, because of that, shines.
A man who, because of that, draws light toward him.
"Damn it."
Vengeance suddenly felt the urge to swing his sword.
The next time they sparred, he wanted to last a few more bouts.
He decided to make that his goal.
With that thought, Vengeance cast aside his worries and swung his sword.
It was time for training.
He joined in the intense training fervor sweeping through the unit.
***
The first thought Enkrid had upon waking up was this:
'Training.'
He had completely missed the morning drills.
And today, of all days, he had a lot to do.
Starting with the Isolation Technique, followed by Sense of Evasion, Heart of the Beast, Single-Point Focus, Heart of Monstrous Strenght, Blade Sensation, Valaf-style martial arts, and basic sword training.
'Since I missed the morning training, I'll have to push everything to the afternoon.'
He would have to cut down his rest time.
He knew how important recovery was, but…this was a special situation.
Losing time by passing out in the morning wasn't something he could ignore.
Any suspicions about what kind of trick that Squire-Knight Aisia had pulled were shoved to the back of his mind.
First, he had to focus on what needed to be done.
The daily repetition.
The start of training that must never be neglected.
And just as he opened his eyes, he overheard some strange talk—something about how he could never become a knight.
What was Vengeance even doing here?
Biting into the bread Audin had handed him, he made his way to the training grounds and started repeating his techniques.
"Hoo."
It didn't take long for sweat to soak his clothes.
His undergarments were drenched in no time.
Despite having collapsed earlier, his head wasn't heavy, nor did he feel any pain anywhere.
At that moment, he had felt like he was on the verge of death.
Even as he focused on training, his thoughts continued.
Handling two swords had made him accustomed to multitasking.
'What was that?'
He had now grasped how to raise his aura.
He had once even locked a cat in place just by glaring at it.
But making someone see an illusion that wasn't even there?
That was impossible.
And yet, Enkrid had seen it.
A storm of countless blades.
A storm of blades so fierce he couldn't take a single step forward.
A force that warned—no, commanded—that if he didn't retreat, he would die.
It was both an enticement and an ultimatum.
It was as if Aishia's blade itself had been speaking to him.
Had she even drawn her sword at that moment?
He didn't think so.
"Hoo."
Exhaling deeply, he steadied his breathing.
Then, once more—training, training, training.
By the time he had caught up on his missed morning drills—
"She said you couldn't become a knight. You're not shaken by that?"
It was the Frog.
He strode over and asked.
"Shaken?"
Shaken?
Why would he be shaken?
With that exact thought, he asked back.
"Geez."
The frog scratched her nose with a thick finger.
"You're a funny one."
Right after the Frog spoke—Ragna approached from behind.
"What did you see?"
Enkrid turned to look at Ragna.
Ragna walked up, raising his sword vertically in front of his face.
The blade covered half of his face, revealing only the other half.
His reflection, slightly blurred, was mirrored in the steel.
It wasn't quite evening yet.
The sun cast a warm glow over everything—a moment bathed in tranquil light.
Between the slowly setting sun, Ragna stood.
As Enkrid paused his swings to look at him, Ragna spoke again.
"What makes a knight different?"
The words he uttered didn't sound like a question.
Enkrid adjusted his stance, prepared to listen.
Whether the Frog listened or not didn't matter.
What had a knight shown him?
What Ragna was speaking of—he wanted to know that as well.
He had planned to ask after training anyway, but Ragna brought it up first.
Now was the time to listen.