Chapter 160 - A Stepping Stone for Small Goals
"That's all you have to do about a dozen more times."
Rem said indifferently.
Enkrid looked at him silently at those words.
"If you do that, your hands will reach the wall, and you'll get over it."
Something was still bothering him, wasn't it?
Enkrid noticed it instinctively but was too busy replaying what had just happened in his mind.
One exchange.
There was so much to gain from it.
He knew it immediately.
"You did well."
Enkrid spoke and turned away.
He wanted to reflect and analyze.
That single spar, the one exchange—what was contained within it?
"Brother, you took a hit, huh?"
Behind him, Audin teased Rem.
"How about you grab lunch with the lord today, you crazy brute?"
Rem and Audin's bickering continued, but Enkrid ignored them.
These days, even when they fought, they stopped at the right time
Their relationship hadn't necessarily improved, but they had found an odd balance.
'How did I cut him?'
He had left a scratch on Rem's cheek.
The fact alone was surprising, but the process fascinated him even more.
This wasn't the first time he had an experience like this, so he knew how to analyze and reflect.
Like a frog trapped in a well, leaping up and catching a glimpse of the outside world.
What could he gain from this?
Once a frog has jumped high once, it knows it can do it again.
Beyond the well—Enkrid wanted to see a new world.
Even though his mission departure was just two days away, his training remained relentless.
Excluding the standard drills, he spent all his time contemplating and analyzing.
Following the saying, "You see as much as you know," Enkrid realized his shortcomings.
'Precision, balance, speed, control.'
Among the five sword forms, the foundation was the heavy blade style.
Was that really enough?
Whenever he used dual-blade techniques, another thought arose—
The desire to wield different weapons.
It was said that knights could proficiently handle ten different types of weapons.
But that wasn't something he could do.
To be proficient meant to master one and understand ten.
That required talent.
For him, it was difficult—immensely so.
So what was the answer?
'If I can't master one to understand ten…'
What if he learned each one individually?
They said repetition led to improvement, but if there was a way to walk forward instead of just crawling—
"I have to do it."
The resolution escaped his lips.
It was only natural.
At some point, evening had fallen, but he had been too absorbed to notice.
Even during meals, no matter what he was doing, one part of his mind was always analyzing and reflecting.
Since the moment he had scratched Rem's cheek.
But instead of satisfaction, Enkrid felt hunger.
He examined the path forward.
And that was the result.
Muttering to himself, Enkrid rose from his cot and moved.
The quarters weren't spacious.
All eyes turned to him.
Enkrid stopped in front of the Frog, Luagarne's bed.
The frog, who had been preparing to sleep, lifted her gaze, looking at Enkrid from where she lay.
"Do you know precision sword techniques?"
Tomorrow was the day of their departure.
The lantern behind them cast long shadows.
Everyone had returned from washing up.
Finn was the last, water dripping from her damp hair.
Esther, who had been grooming her claws at Enkrid's spot, stopped and raised her head.
The lake panther's deep blue eyes locked onto Enkrid's back.
"It's my specialty."
Luagarne answered without moving.
"Teach me."
Enkrid craved knowledge.
He wasn't the type to wait for someone to teach him.
To him, this Frog was an excellent instructor.
Aside from wielding a whip, she was proficient with other weapons as well.
Precision sword techniques, in particular.
Through occasional lessons and spars, Enkrid had already learned that much.
Observing and mimicking over someone's shoulder wasn't enough anymore.
Ragna's northern heavy blade style was excellent.
The other techniques he taught weren't bad either.
But even Ragna had only learned by observing.
"I just copy what I see once or twice."
That was something he often said.
Learning the way a genius did was no longer enough.
As always, what he felt was thirst.
There was something he could learn from the Frog that he couldn't from the other squad members.
Rem?
His fighting style wasn't something formed into a fixed shape.
It was a battle of instinct and intuition—an axe strike born from pure senses.
During a spar, he managed to scratch Rem's cheek.
Beneath the thrilling sensation, Enkrid saw it.
That appearance, the one that resembled a specter.
Was that Rem's true nature, or was it just an illusion born from his own mind and eyes?
He didn't know.
But if he could wish for something—
'To see it again.'
He wanted to push Rem into that situation once more.
That was his desire.
It wasn't about breaking his limits immediately or awakening 'Will' just yet.
Enkrid wasn't like that.
Years and days spent holding on to fragments of dreams.
If he had learned anything, it was simply this:
One step at a time, even if crawling was the only way forward.
Even if progress was slow, as long as he moved forward, he saw, felt, and eventually reached his goal.
A single step forward—he decided to set a small goal.
To witness that 'genuine' look on Rem's face, whether it was a ghost or something else.
While he was at it, he wanted to see the same on Audin, Ragna, and Jaxen as well.
"So be it."
Without hesitation, Luagarne nodded.
Enkrid bowed his head slightly before settling down to sleep.
Tomorrow, as promised, they had to head to the frontier village and carry out a request.
They would have to embark on a journey.
Leaving behind lingering fatigue wouldn't be good. He needed to sleep early.
"By the way, I just realized something—do you even know that being excessively calm makes you seem insane?"
Rem mumbled from his bed.
Enkrid didn't respond.
If he did, the conversation would drag on endlessly.
Thankfully, Rem closed his mouth as well.
It was just a pointless observation.
"Heh, brother, may the Lord's grace be upon you. Please, I pray, keep your mind intact."
It sounded suspiciously like he was calling him a lunatic, but a prayer was still a prayer, and a blessing was still a blessing.
The others remained silent.
***
The night passed.
The next day arrived.
Enkrid set off with his usual composed demeanor.
As they left the city, Luagarne and Krais followed behind him.
Ahead of him was Finn.
In his arms, Esther was nestled.
Even when he tried to push her away, she dug her claws into his chest as if refusing to be separated.
What could he do?
He had to bring her along.
"We're going."
With Finn leading the way, the group followed the road.
And soon, they encountered ghouls.
"So soon?"
It was an early encounter.
Considering the known territories where monsters usually appeared, they were rather close to the city.
Of course, that wasn't the problem.
Two ghouls—gray-skinned creatures.
Monsters that craved human flesh and blood.
Enkrid drew his sword.
His swings remained as composed as they had been when they set out in the morning.
Thud. Crack.
The heavy sword style relied on brute strength.
With a single strike, he severed a neck and crushed a skull.
Black blood and gray brain matter splattered across the ground.
A few drops of ghoul blood landed on Enkrid's body.
"The foundation of the orthodox sword style is patience."
From behind, Luagarne spoke.
A journey was also a path of training, a continuous cycle of discipline.
The lesson had begun.
***
A scab formed on his cheek.
As he brushed against it, Rem recalled the first day he met Enkrid.
Or rather, the first day he teased him.
"A spar? With me?"
He had wondered what this guy was up to.
The new squad leader swung his sword around like a madman every day and now wanted to test himself.
At a glance, he was third-rate.
Or, looking at it from another perspective, maybe second-rate?
If judged by the military ranking system, he was somewhere between low and mid-tier.
An utterly talentless man.
"I feel like I can learn something."
When he first faced Enkrid, what weapon had he used?
He usually grabbed whatever was within reach, but back then, he used swords.
A sword in each hand, swinging them.
Just like he did with his axes.
It had been an easy fight.
Thud.
Enkrid tripped over his foot and tumbled to the ground.
A bad fall left a scratch on his face.
Some of it was intentional.
'Where did they find such a delicate-looking guy to be a squad leader?'
If his face got messed up, there should be some kind of reaction.
He was curious about his identity.
A noble?
Or someone's bloodline?
Did he have backing in the military?
None of that was the case.
Even as blood trickled down his scratched face, Enkrid didn't bother tending to his wound.
Instead, he got up and spoke.
"Can you do it one more time?"
"Again?"
A nod.
Was he half-insane?
To be honest, Rem had never met someone more reckless than himself before.
He beat him.
Cut him.
Left marks on his neck to scare him.
Even sliced the skin on his forehead to make the blood flow.
The blood ran down from his forehead, covering the area above his eyes.
Unless someone had experienced it, they wouldn't understand.
The way everything turned red—a different kind of fear.
And yet, the new squad leader didn't back down.
Even as his blood-covered face made him look like a damn blood ghoul.
"I have a question. What are you going to do if you end up dead?"
They were still in the middle of a spar.
Rem had the leisure to talk, but Enkrid didn't.
Through an entire changing season, this crazy bastard had been charging at him.
Now, he took a deep breath and answered.
"Well, then that'll be the end."
Was he completely insane?
That's the end?
Shouldn't it not end like that?
"You're in bad shape."
Rem muttered before deciding to teach him the Heart of the Beast that day.
If he was willing to risk death—then, sure, maybe he'd gain something from it.
It was pointless.
His temperament wasn't suited for it.
Whenever things got rough, his eyes would close.
He lacked the boldness required.
Even when his eyes were open, he didn't truly see.
His body froze in moments of danger.
"You really have no talent."
The words came out naturally.
Even so, the squad leader position, which had been replaced time and time again, did not change.
He survived.
Stubbornly.
If someone asked if Rem enjoyed sparring with him…
Well, it was just something to do.
It wasn't like the guy was some grand figure in his life.
Rem liked women, so it wasn't anything weird like that either.
He just felt good watching him.
Like gazing at bright sunlight, a dry prairie, or a beast running across it—just something pleasant to look at.
'He'll die like that.'
Watching him struggle desperately on the battlefield, Rem found himself stepping in.
At the very least, he didn't want to watch him die right in front of him.
The spars continued.
Time passed.
"How did you do that?"
Enkrid had grasped the Heart of the Beast.
After that day, he began to change.
His skills improved—sometimes at a pace visible to the eye.
Other times, so slowly that Rem doubted if he was improving at all.
Had he truly changed amidst it all?
No.
He remained the same.
Exactly the same as when they first met.
"Sparring?"
His sentences grew shorter than before.
By now, Rem had learned just how incredibly frustrating his words could be.
And yet, the sparring continued.
A scratch formed on his cheek.
The blood dried into a scab.
Hah.
On Enkrid?
On that squad leader?
Rem had to get serious.
He almost pulled out the skills he had buried away.
No, this wasn't right.
How should he put it…?
It was a personal wish.
Not yet.
Rem still wanted to play around above him.
If that was the case, this wouldn't do.
He couldn't let himself be caught up.
He couldn't get serious.
That wouldn't be any fun.
If he wanted to tease him while sparring, he couldn't afford to fall behind.
Not even for a moment.
That scratch on his cheek—
In that instant, even if just by a toe's length—
He had been caught up to.
And he didn't like that one bit.
It even made him feel a little anxious.
Especially since Krais's question on the battlefield still lingered in his mind.
"Can you handle a semi knight?"
"If they charge at me, I can kill them."
He was serious, so Rem answered seriously.
There was something about this big-eyed guy—a strange pressure.
A strange kid.
That unusually sharp-minded guy nodded.
He understood what Rem meant, even without a detailed explanation.
Killing them was possible.
But not if he hesitated.
If he put his life on the line, maybe fifty-fifty?
To be honest, his odds were probably around thirty or forty percent.
After that question, Krais seemed to have made up his mind to evade enemy forces.
That's how the battlefield flowed, so maybe he was right.
That was probably it.
Yet, it still stung his pride a little.
"You lazy, directionally-challenged bastard."
That's why.
He didn't follow along Enkrid.
He had things to do here.
Maybe that idiot felt the same way.
Rem muttered, and Ragna lifted his head slightly.
He was half-leaning against the barracks wall.
"Wanna bet half a life and fight?"
His usual playful tone, yet there was seriousness in it.
"…Let's do it."
Ragna stood up.
Even without Enkrid around, there was something in his eyes—a flicker, like a flame.
Without a trace of laughter, Rem stepped into the training grounds.
"Hey, big guy, you coming too?"
On the way, he called for Audin.
"Hoho, the Lord calls upon us."
Audin rose with a smile.
He left the cunning stray cat alone.
That guy wasn't suited for direct combat anyway.
'He'll come if he feels it's necessary.'
That bastard wasn't the type to show up just because he was called.
More than that, he was truly a sly one.
Wasn't Rem a hunter himself?
That guy was like a relentless night predator or even a man-hunter.
At one side of the training ground, Rem picked up his axe.
Ting.
He clashed the two axe blades together and took his stance.
"Don't blame me if you die."
Facing him, Ragna spoke.
"Look who's talking."
Soon, the two of them began moving their feet.
The soldiers who had been training nearby all stopped and became spectators.
Kang! Bukk! Jjeong!
The heavy sounds of impact echoed.
A three-way sparring match.
The sheer intensity left everyone speechless.
"I want in too."
The fairy company commander stepped in.
"We're fighting with half a life on the line, though?"
When Rem questioned her, the commander simply smiled and drew her sword.
The leaf-shaped blades reflected the light.
It was a declaration of intent.
Soon after, she proved that her skills were on par with theirs.
Without needing to say it, they all understood—they were of the same mind.
When blades crossed and fists collided, something became clear.
'Not yet.'
Not just yet.
Even if it was the childish desire of an eight-year-old troublemaker to keep their place above Enkrid—
They had decided to focus on the present.
Fighting with half a life on the line—it was the beginning of change, the acceleration of growth.
All four of them had been called prodigies at some point.
Each was honing their skills.
But it wouldn't end with mere refinement.
Rem sharpened Ragna.
Ragna sharpened Rem.
Audin joined in between.
Occasionally, Jaxen would jump in too.
The fairy company commander sparred with them in rotation.
Whenever things got too serious, the others would jump in to break the tension, maintaining a balance.
Their talents were igniting.
Each passing day, they had more to show Enkrid when he returned.
***
Meanwhile, Enkrid was traveling rougher roads than expected.
"Kaaah!"
Beasts surged at him in waves.
Well, at least it was entertaining.
For Enkrid, it was both an opportunity for training and a proving ground.