Two eyeballs floating in the pitch-black sky. It could only be described this way.
It wasn't a ferry boat but something floating suspended in the air. The ferryman didn't even invite him, simply watching with a gaze that stared intently. Enkrid felt the presence overwhelming him within the pitch-black darkness.
The ferryman above his head, each eye grown as large as a moon. He looked up and asked through thought projection.
"Eternal suffering, writhing within that suffering—that is the today you have chosen. Even if you escape after being bound here for at least several hundred years, can you say the 'you' of that time will be the same as the you of now? The you of that time will already have become like 'me.' Whether you give up or not, whether you despair or not, it will be so."
From the ferryman's eyes, as if dust were scattering, or like an old wooden building, the shell peeled off with a thud thud. It was like gray hail.
Unlike usual, it was words mixed with waves that shook his entire body. Moreover, the ferryman's words were both prophecy and predetermined future.
Then should he tremble like a frightened child?
Or should he ask the ferryman to tell him something, anything, rather than just letting him go like this?
Pain, fear, vagueness.
All of it intertwined to become a spear that stabbed Enkrid's heart. The formless spear blade tore through the beating heart muscle and was pulled out. Along the pulled blade, thick blood stretched in a long line. It seemed as if the spear blade and Enkrid had become one, connected by blood.
The gray hail couldn't reach above his head and scattered into nothing in midair.
'Though saying it's like snow rather than hail might be more fitting.'
The hallucination ended. He woke from the dream too.
The heavy air and the afterimage of pain, the sense of reality he'd now adapted to through countless repetitions—he recognized all of it in an instant.
Enkrid's hand, awakened from reality, slowly rose. As if to caress where his heart would be, but then rising higher to sweep through his hair. And then words that flowed out readily.
"Good."
Enkrid recognized he'd welcomed the third today and completely ignored the ferryman's words.
He smoothly passed over words deliberately thrown as if to engrave on his soul. This was actually something only Enkrid could do. Beyond having a strong heart, his liver had swollen so much it seemed ready to push aside other organs.
But this was right. If his will could be broken to this degree, it would have already shattered and crumbled.
"Crazy bastard."
Beyond the fading hallucination, the ferryman's phantom appeared and spoke. Unlike moments ago, it seemed to mutter without any weight, but that wasn't Enkrid's concern.
Instead, he was busy thinking about what to do, how to do it.
"A guest has come?"
So he just needed to start what he had to do today. The moment he heard the opponent's words, Enkrid's entire body reacted. He was erasing the afterimage of the previous today with his current movements.
Enkrid pretended his legs had given out, then threw the Horn Dagger. The speed of his right hand passing over his chest was faster than ever before.
With rapid acceleration, his cloak fluttered with a snap and between that, the Horn Dagger rang out.
Bwoooo!
The throwing weapon Jaxen loathed flew toward the opponent's forehead. The opponent dodged in shock, but the owner who'd thrown the dagger was already kicking off the ground and advancing along with the dagger throw.
He ran with his waist lowered and feet stuck to the ground. It was a charge mixed with Jaxen's soundless step. Enkrid continued rushing forward like that while drawing his sword and thrusting.
Shing!
By the time the sound of the blade scraping the scabbard rang out, the sword tip was already just before piercing the opponent's neck.
The opponent had drawn the sword tucked in his left sleeve to block the Horn Dagger and was half-drawing the shortsword at his waist with his right hand.
Enkrid didn't give the opponent time to counterattack.
The shortsword tried to move from below upward to block Dawnforge's path but failed. The blade pierced straight through the neck.
Tididing, teung.
The shortsword blade that rose belatedly scraped against Dawnforge with sparks flying. The shortsword with chipped teeth fell to the floor with a thud.
Pwook!
When he pulled out the sword that had pierced the neckbone, a pitch-black hole formed and black mist wriggled up. With that, he passed the first opponent and advanced forward again.
Chiring, ting.
Enkrid sheathed Dawnforge again and twisted his neck left and right once before looking ahead.
The darkness within the passage had many peculiar points when passing through. Though there were torch stands, the light illuminated only certain areas. It even seemed like there were individual territories that even the light couldn't cross. Observation was a habit. A habit learned from Jaxen and perfected through Luagarne.
Enkrid recognized, passed by what was visible, audible, and felt. He didn't even know yet if what he was seeing right now held any meaning. This place was hostile to him. Because he didn't know, it was hostile, and because it was a place created by the enemy, it was so again.
Then would knowing even a little help? Perhaps it would.
Jaxen sensed it, and Enkrid had already realized this place was similar to a Demonic Realm.
Whatever it was, the fact that he had to fight and fight again didn't change, so Enkrid did his job. Meaning he advanced through the passage to face the next opponent.
"Hello, Donapa."
This time he recited the opponent's name without getting it wrong.
"You know me?"
For the current Enkrid, dealing with a careless opponent was too easy.
When he called the name, the opponent's reaction became disrupted, and in that gap he approached and swung his sword. Dawnforge's sky-blue color drew a chilling trajectory. It became both a diagonal line and a long line extending straight forward. This time he mixed in techniques learned from Vortex and Oara's Continuing Sword.
Tssssssk!
Steam rose from the specially made boot soles. It was because he stepped while dragging his feet as he moved at high speed.
Tang!
He slashed to catch the chest, neck, the rider's head, and even the head held in the side all at once. The opponent tried to counter by swinging a large axe and failed.
It was natural. Even without repeating today, this was an opponent he could beat without difficulty, and this was the third time. To Enkrid, the opponent's weakness was visible, and he ruthlessly struck that weakness.
'Don't give an opening and create speed and trajectory the opponent cannot block.'
Whether the first opponent or Donapa transformed into a Dullahan, the method of dealing with both was the same. He swung his sword while momentarily adding even the speed change of Will learned from Ragna.
'Line Explosion.'
As a result, Dawnforge didn't even touch the axe. Moreover, the opponent didn't particularly try to deflect the sword either. The moment he judged he couldn't block, he aimed not for the sword but for the one holding it.
Hwung.
The axe swung just before death fell vertically, striking the spot where Enkrid had been.
Kung!
Since he'd swung while passing by, it was a wasted motion. An axe swung while tilting the body as if half-sliding down from the phantom horse. The ground split along the axe blade and opened its mouth with a crack.
'If I'd blocked it head-on, it would've been quite heavy.'
Even swung while taking a sword blow, the power contained in that axe swing was considerable. Moreover, it probably wasn't even properly gathering strength and swinging.
Anyway, this was also the third opponent. He walked past the darkness toward the torch's light. The passage was a single path. At its end was the Balrog.
Then was this a path toward death?
"Correct."
The ferryman's phantom agreed. This was truly just a phantom. He couldn't reveal his actual form and speak.
Anyway, advancing like that to face the opponent with the single-edged sword, the opponent tilted his head to the side with a hmm.
"What's this about?"
He charged again without exchanging words. The match was decided easily. The tactics this time were the same. Don't give an opening and fight by revealing the parts where this side had superiority over the opponent. Both skill and tactics were superior on this side.
"This underhanded bastard."
Having received high praise from the one separated into upper and lower halves, Enkrid met Oara once again.
"Ah, right, you came."
Even in the moment Oara spoke, inside Enkrid's head, dozens of lines were being drawn and circles formed as it churned.
'Can I overwhelm the opponent with calculation?'
After two fights, he seemed to have found what the Balrog lacked, so he was about to try that.
"...It's been a while since we met, so I'd like to chat a bit."
Oara said a few words, and he answered.
"Ah, yes."
Enkrid was indifferent. He was already absorbed in his own thoughts, trying various calculations.
"Hey, you, be careful anyway."
It wasn't that Enkrid had nothing to say. He said everything he knew, including Roman's story. He just couldn't laugh along when Oara became immersed in memories and laughed and talked.
"Yes, let's see after I beat the Balrog."
And no matter what anyone said, his resolve was always high. Once again, Oara's shadow changed and the Balrog manifested. The pupils rotating with flames trailing in long tails looked at Enkrid and expressed a small question.
—Have we met before?
What was this about? Was it feeling dissonance from the repeated today?
That wasn't it.
It was a fact he'd only learn after five more todays had passed, but the Balrog had spoken while looking at Enkrid's eyes.
The will contained in those calmly watching eyes was like a honed blade.
Mortals who could be like that even facing its presence were truly rare. And meeting two such mortals in a short period was an even rarer occurrence.
Two meant that in addition to Enkrid, it had recently seen someone similar.
It had lived through days so long that counting them was meaningless. In those numberless days, facing such a mortal truly induced a different kind of interest. That interest moved the Balrog's heart.
Rampaging like a mad horse-drawn, charging four-horse carriage in fast advance, skipping three people and after conversing with Oara as in any other today.
—Behold.
It was the eighteenth today. To Enkrid's eyes, it was quite a random occurrence.
Pwuhluhk.
The Balrog spread its wings behind its back and pointed to the three crystals embedded side by side in its chest. Three mysterious stones, pitch-black with a flowing luster, upon crimson skin.
"Mm?"
Enkrid tilted his head slightly, and seeing that reaction, the Balrog saw this as also extraordinary.
—This is my source. If you shatter all three simultaneously, you win.
Should he question why it was telling him? There wasn't such leisure right now.
"Ah."
So he just let out a short exclamation and nodded.
The Balrog's lips curved upward. Whether it wielded authority or not, it existed on this earth with hands and feet, arms, legs, body and internal organs. Therefore, it could smile. Some demons had even different ways of expressing emotion from mortals, but it was not one of them.
—Interesting.
Speaking with sincerity, it introduced Salamandra and Surt.
The whip like a red serpent and the blade of black flames greeted him by raising a great conflagration.
Hwareureuk.
Simultaneously, the Balrog spread its wings wide.
Was that what it did when excited? Perhaps it was. It wasn't much different from Frog puffing up her cheeks.
Enkrid's tolerance even calmly accepted the demon's wing-flapping.
Somehow, when Enkrid wondered if he should return the greeting, his cloak reacted first.
Parararahk.
The cloak received from the fairy spread out arbitrarily in a place without even a speck of wind, growing no less than the Balrog's wings as it fluttered behind his back.
Jiiiiing.
Simultaneously, shaking the scabbard, Dawnforge burst into a cry.
It seemed like the cloak and sword had stepped forward first, but in reality, it was because Enkrid's will had moved. His right hand gripped the sword handle. The feeling of sword and arm becoming one brought confidence.
Just by gripping it, it seemed he could do anything. Omnipotence filled his entire body. But he had to be careful. Intoxicated by omnipotence, he couldn't win against this opponent.
If he couldn't control his emotions, he'd die with his head completely burnt by the Balrog's black flame sword. It was a fact he already knew from several experiences.
Chiririririring.
He drew the sword while gripping the handle. Dawnforge's sky-blue color shone as if pushing away the darkness filling the passage.
Behind that blade, two blue eyes blazed with will before quickly dying down.
The flames hadn't gone out. Like embers burning longer, the blue flames between his calm eyes still revealed a steady presence. To the Balrog's eyes, Enkrid's eyes looked like two blue moons pushing away the Red Moon. Moreover, moons that held flames.
Enkrid started each today slightly differently and counted the number of repeated todays.
'Eighteen times.'
It meant he'd attempted and trained the method found on the third today over ten times.
Originally, it might have required hundreds of todays. If it was the Enkrid of the beginning, even doing so truly wouldn't have been enough.
Even attempting hundreds or thousands of times, he couldn't have thought like now. His body wouldn't have followed. But the current him was different from the past.
'Shall I try?'
Tok, kicking the ground, he kicked up a stone.
To win, he'd do anything. That premise remained the same.
He connected hundreds of lines between the demon and himself. Attack lines entangled and crossed each other's territories.
Countless futures just one step ahead overworked Enkrid's brain. Thinking stretched and insight was exerted to its limit. The Balrog swung its sword with movements and trajectories that didn't deviate from prediction. The sword holding black flames fell straight down.
A sword strike that looked like a random blow with no continuity in motion. He blocked it by striking with Dawnforge.
Tang!
He blocked the sword and fought again. And Enkrid died once more.