Chapter 161 - Facing Beasts
There was no lack of force to deal with the beasts.
The foundation of the heavy sword style was weight and power.
"Overwhelm with strength."
"Break through with power."
"Close the distance and strike with force."
"Put weight into your attacks."
"Make it so the enemy can't even think of dodging."
These were phrases Ragna often repeated, whether facing spears or shields.
In most situations, his answers followed this pattern.
The orthodox sword style, however, was different.
"Refine your form and force your opponent into your intended path."
Luagarne taught the fundamentals first, adding details afterward—a highly efficient method.
It was often said that Frogs made excellent sword instructors.
'The difference is clear.'
There was a gap between his squad members' teaching and Luagarne's.
Not that his squad members were bad—if anything, their methods suited Enkrid better.
Rolling in the dirt and enduring hardship was painful but easier for him.
Rough, but straightforward.
He had grown accustomed to learning through hardship and brutality.
Luagarne, however, truly understood how to teach.
And Enkrid knew how to learn.
So he absorbed everything with full focus.
The difference now was—
'I can keep up.'
There was a time when he couldn't, no matter how desperately he struggled.
That time was now just the past.
The Isolation technique allowed complete control over one's body, down to a single muscle fiber.
It was a skill that demanded mastery over oneself.
To that, he added the sensitivity to a blade's edge, the singularity of focus, and the boldness and composure granted by the Heart of the Beast.
And he realized—
These four elements form the core of my talent.
What he had gained through effort.
What had been nurtured by those around him.
He had chewed, tasted, dissected, and explored that nourishment.
That was why he had reached this day.
Because he had lived through countless 'todays.'
And now, he could follow a Frog's teachings.
Not that it meant he had become a genius.
It simply meant he had improved.
Luagarne, already aware of Enkrid's lackluster talent, showed no surprise.
Unshaken and steady, he simply continued to teach.
Amidst it all, knowledge and stories of the sword surfaced often.
Luagarne knew a great deal.
"They say quick sword styles are best for beginners, while orthodox styles are the best against beginners."
Speed-focused techniques were easier to learn.
Against weaker opponents, orthodox techniques boasted a 98% win rate.
So what about when facing a stronger opponent?
"Heavy and flexible sword styles are best. Against an overconfident fool, quick techniques are effective. Against a cautious and suspicious opponent, orthodox techniques work well. But if I had to pick the most advantageous, I'd say illusionary swordsmanship."
A technique that deceived and mesmerized the opponent.
Luagarne's words implied that all five sword styles had their advantages but no absolute answer.
After all, in this world, nothing had a fixed solution.
It was a statement born of his experience, philosophy, and temperament.
It meant that the swordsman mattered more than the swordsmanship.
To sum it up—
"Against someone stronger, the fastest and most perceptive fighter has the advantage."
Gurgle, gurgle!
Luagarne laughed as he spoke.
Enkrid was slowly getting used to the Frog's laughter.
Knowing that Luagarne used throat vibrations to express emotion was one thing—
Experiencing it firsthand for extended periods was another.
"The heavy sword style was originally designed to fight beasts and monsters. Seems fitting, doesn't it?"
"Orthodox styles pair well with flexible techniques, while heavy styles work with quick ones. Only illusionary swordsmanship stands apart."
"Once you master one style, the others follow naturally. But ideally, you should round yourself out by learning all of them. Your exceptional traits will naturally shine. But since that's not your case, you'd best train even harder."
Luagarne gave her subjective insights freely.
"When you cut that wolf beast earlier, you should have struck horizontally, not vertically. That way, you wouldn't have that wound on your left arm. You should've shifted your weight onto your right foot and deflected with the flexible sword technique. More specifically, like this—"
She constantly offered post-battle advice and demonstrations.
"Alright, now try again. Block this."
The training repeated.
Luagarne personally wielded her sword, recreating the same scenario.
Yet she never slowed her pace.
Lessons continued during meals, at dawn, while standing night watch, and even before sleeping.
Every moment, Enkrid focused—
Dug deeper—
And learned.
"Your reactions are too slow. You saw it, didn't you? Then you should've dodged. Or at least blocked first."
Snap!
It was when he faced three Hyena Beasts.
Though they were among the most dangerous creatures when in a pack, three of them alone weren't a problem.
The fight ended with only a scratch on his side.
Yet, Luagarne pointed out an issue.
Enkrid accepted it.
As he did, a thought formed in his mind—more precisely, a thought triggered by her words.
When the same flaw is pointed out repeatedly, one is bound to confront the problem eventually.
'Sense of Evasion.'
Jaxen had taught him, but he had yet to fully integrate it into his body.
'Coordination, was it?'
The more he learned, the more there was to master, to train, and to refine.
Among them, this was one he had yet to internalize.
Sense of Evasion.
His trained dynamic vision allowed him to perceive enemy movements several times better than before.
For instance—
With a whoosh, a Ghoul swung its arm.
Enkrid could now predict its trajectory and impact point in advance.
"A precise sword technique shines when one anticipates the opponent's movements."
Because he could see, he could predict.
He swung his sword accordingly.
Just as he had envisioned, he brought the blade down toward the lower right, then arced it upward in a sweeping motion.
The edge caught the Ghoul's forearm, splitting it open with a sickening crack.
Without pause, he raised the sword above its crown, twisted his wrist, and pulled the blade forward into a vertical slash.
The Ghoul's head split diagonally, cleaved clean through its clavicle.
And there, Enkrid stopped his blade.
He had deliberately exerted control to halt his strike.
It was a matter of courtesy not to slice all the way down to the heart in front of a Frog.
Thud.
He kicked the Ghoul's corpse away and withdrew his sword.
The battle had ended in just two strikes.
"Not bad."
That was Luagarne's assessment.
From that moment on, Enkrid became fully immersed in honing his Sense of Evasion and the fundamentals of precise swordsmanship.
Yet, regarding the Sense of Evasion—
"I can't quite grasp it."
He understood the concept and had learned the training methods.
But simply learning something didn't mean it naturally became part of him.
Wasn't that something he had long understood through experience?
Was it similar to when he first learned Heart of the Beast?
Or perhaps like when he first grasped One-Point Focus?
How had he learned back then?
One, he had awakened through the experience of death.
The other had required not a genius's approach but that of a dullard—slow, steady, deliberate.
Would he need a similar environment this time as well?
When one's desire burns, one naturally seeks a wall to overcome.
He might wish for the Ferryman to guide him.
But Enkrid never factored such things into his calculations.
As always, he simply did his best with the environment given to him.
That was Enkrid.
And since the endless stream of monsters and beasts served as excellent examiners, he welcomed them, drawing his sword every time.
"Again?"
As they climbed a thorn-filled hill, Finn spoke in frustration.
It was right after they had spotted another horde of beasts ahead.
"This isn't even some land tainted by a Demonic Realm's influence. So why the hell do these freaks keep popping up?"
Fury.
Pure, undeniable fury.
Monsters and beasts, of course, could not understand speech.
Which meant there had to be a more justifiable reason for her outburst.
In what situations does one unleash such rage upon creatures that can't even comprehend words?
The conclusion was simple—this wasn't anger directed at the monsters.
At first, Enkrid wondered why she was acting this way.
But he soon realized.
The things he had been ignoring in his focus on training.
He had thought it fortunate that monsters and beasts kept appearing, as they made excellent practice targets.
"I figured she was reaching her limit."
Krais muttered from the side.
Gurgle.
The Frog puffed out its cheeks in agreement.
"Krrng!"
Esther sneezed.
Finn was a Ranger.
And what was a Ranger's duty?
A Pathfinder finds the way.
A Map Maker draws the map.
And a Ranger ensures the party's safety along the path.
Why had the Glacier Rangers, sworn to protect the glaciers, become renowned across the continent?
Why were they considered extraordinary?
Because they survived in deep forests, in landscapes as perilous as Demonic Realms, amid freezing cold and prowling monsters.
They detected danger and safeguarded their companions with unmatched expertise.
There were those who hired Glacier Rangers to gather rare herbs or precious metals from the frozen lands.
Finn was not a Glacier Ranger.
But she still took pride in her work.
Wherever they went, monsters and beasts kept appearing.
It was enough to make one doubt their own abilities.
"How many days has it been since we left?"
Enkrid glanced at Finn, who was fuming, before speaking.
"Three days."
Krais, quick on the uptake, answered.
If they walked diligently, it would take twenty days to reach the pioneer village.
If they took a carriage along the main road, it would be six to seven days.
There were risky paths here and there, but since they had a Ranger with them, the journey could be both fast and relatively safe.
Before they departed, Finn had nudged Enkrid's side and said,
"If we had a carriage, we could just ignore the slow-moving ghouls, but on foot, that's impossible. But! Having a Ranger like me with you is honestly a stroke of luck, isn't it?"
Now, the image of Finn smiling while saying that overlapped with the Finn who was now completely furious.
It was understandable.
"This isn't your fault."
At Enkrid's words, Finn let out a deep sigh.
"Ah, seriously, this makes no sense… I've got nothing to say."
Finn felt just as wronged now as before.
Why had they chosen the Thornbush Hill in the first place?
Monsters and beasts generally avoided inconvenient routes, so logically, this place should have been safe as well.
The path ahead was blocked by thorny bushes at every turn.
It was not a place one could enter easily unless they had an exceptional knack for finding trails.
Without cutting through with a hand axe, it was tough to make any progress.
But now, look at the beasts before them.
No matter how thick their hides were, they had still charged through the thorns to get here?
The creatures in question were the spotted hyena beasts commonly found in this region.
One of them was even limping, though it was unclear how it had ended up like that.
Another was dripping blood in small droplets.
"This isn't normal."
Luagarne muttered, but to Finn, it sounded like an empty attempt at comfort.
Enkrid didn't bother responding.
Instead, he focused on the beasts' movements.
Rather than immediately attacking in a frenzy, the beasts were showing signs of caution first.
Since they were raising their guard and preparing for a fight, Enkrid did the same.
He lowered the backpack strapped to his back and drew his sword.
"I'll handle this alone. Stay back."
Enkrid stepped forward.
Eight hyena beasts in total.
Not a small number, even with one of them limping.
It was a lot—more than enough to be considered dangerous.
Typically, dealing with multiple beasts was a serious threat, but no one was worried.
After all, they had seen how many monsters and beasts Enkrid had slain in the past three days.
This wasn't anything remarkable.
Once again, Enkrid sustained a scratch on his shoulder and nearly had his thigh bitten, but with a flash of quick thinking, he used his shin guard to kick one hyena square in the head, easily escaping danger.
Two of the eight had managed to charge toward the group.
One was sliced open by Esther's claws, its head splitting into three.
The other was sent soaring through the air as Luagarne kicked its body, gifting it a momentary bird-like experience.
It was an impressive technique.
Not just stomping on the creature's belly to burst it open, but launching it skyward—it required a delicate balance of power and control.
Enkrid finished off the remaining hyenas.
And so, they continued their journey.
"Ah, damn it!"
Finn's irritation only grew.
This time, it was a pack of striped hyenas.
"They just won't stop coming. Seriously."
Krais clicked his tongue.
They had encountered far too many.
Srrrng.
Once more, Enkrid drew his sword.
It had now been twenty days since they left the city.
The group had stopped by a stream to wash when another pack of thirteen hyena beasts suddenly emerged.
But this wasn't a crisis.
They had survived being surrounded by werewolves before.
And compared to werewolves, these hyenas were no threat at all.
Crack!
And they had Luagarne's support as well.
Her whip snapped loudly against the ground.
"Gotta keep myself from getting rusty."
Luagarne remarked.
She was right.
This much was just a light warm-up.
Thud!
Esther also slammed the ground with her front paws.
As if declaring she was ready as well.
Of course, no one had forgotten.
She was a lake panther, a cunning creature that could understand human speech.
Against beasts, their forces lacked nothing.