Chapter 712 - Reducing Errors
Through the Luagarne-style tactical swordplay, countless lines are drawn, erased, and drawn again.
'Make my body a blade.'
Tactics become the tool of swordsmanship.
And so, he slices through the battlefield.
With restraint, he reveals no presence, no Will—nothing.
He simply charges forward, relying solely on the strength of his trained body.
Thus, upon finding the next target, he thrust Samcheol into it.
If he shifted his left foot outward, the thrust could've carried more force—but there was no luxury for that now.
So instead, he kept his steps short and used the twist of his waist to add rotational power to the thrust.
With the coiled tension of his whole-body muscles exploding outward, he layered Will on top of it.
The blade skillfully pierced a Scaler's scales, slipped past the jaw, and burrowed into its crown.
Puk! Squish.
The moment he thrust in, he pulled the blade free.
Blood and brain matter clung to it, but this was storm-lashed ground.
The filth was wiped clean almost immediately.
KWAANG!
A lightning strike crashed nearby, tearing through his hearing.
The world, once painted by the sound of rain, turned blindingly white.
For a moment, the light was so intense it stole his vision.
Enkrid stopped, momentarily dulling his senses.
He couldn't move right away.
The way everything in sight quaked made it feel like an earthquake had struck.
But pausing didn't mean wasting time.
He never allowed any day to pass him by without giving his best—but now, more than ever, he had to use his time with utter precision.
And so he did.
'Minimize movement.'
In that short break, he retraced the process of killing the monster just now.
Had he wasted a little time en route to the target?
As a result, a kid—who mixed Eil Karaz martial arts with swordsmanship—was caught in a momentary telekinetic grip.
That brief delay had almost cost the boy his life.
He'd seen it—one of the winged Scalers with blood-membrane wings dived straight for the child.
The creature had been knocked aside by one of Riley's flying daggers, but the young swordsman's forearm had been grazed.
No—more than grazed.
The wound was deep enough to gush blood.
And judging by how sluggish the boy had become, the monster's claws must've been laced with poison.
He wouldn't die, but they'd lost another combatant.
If this kept happening, their side would eventually be overwhelmed.
To put it simply—
'He almost died.'
He could almost see it: the kid's body splayed on the storm-slicked ground, lifeless.
It hadn't even happened, but the scene burned in his mind.
Not good.
Enkrid had no intention of letting anyone standing behind him die.
So, what must be done?
"Ask the question. Then find the answer."
That was the teaching of the Luagarne-style tactical sword.
Swaaah…
The rain poured again, re-opening a world of black and white.
Eyes closed, he watched through sound.
To the question of how, there was only one answer:
'Reduce errors.'
No one is perfect.
Even minimizing errors wouldn't be enough.
What next?
Cut down on movement.
Gain time.
Create breathing room.
So—how to draw the smallest possible path?
'Mark the points.'
And then connect them with the shortest line.
Like running along a cliff's edge, dancing on the tightrope of your limits.
Crack.
His ankle flexed softly as he pushed off the ground.
His boot sank into the muddy terrain.
The wet dirt compressed beneath his sole, solidifying into a support.
Enkrid leapt toward the next point he'd marked.
If someone viewed the battlefield from above, they'd see that the once-graceful, sweeping arcs he traced had now become straight lines.
'Glance off the passing threats.'
Only push, strike, or slice what truly gets in the way.
With Samcheol in his right hand and Penna in his left, he advanced with tapping steps.
He felt the battlefield's flow with his body.
His instinct chose the next target, and he turned toward it again—casually thrusting Samcheol to the side.
Thunk!
The tip of the blade caught the elbow of a Scaler holding a black spear.
Without stopping, Enkrid yanked the sword and kept running.
Crunch!
No matter how finely sharpened a masterwork blade is, it can't cut flesh just by touching it.
Let alone if the opponent is a Scaler—one of those monsters covered in tough scales.
And yet, Enkrid kept stabbing and slashing.
How?
He did it through sheer force.
It wasn't so much cutting as it was tearing.
He jabbed near the elbow, didn't even pull the sword out, and ripped it apart with strength alone.
The torn edge was rough, of course—and far more agonizing than a clean cut.
Screeeech!
The Scaler shrieked.
That scream served as an alert, signaling nearby monsters that an enemy was here.
But naturally, Enkrid was already gone.
He kept running, both swords still hanging in his hands.
Crash!
The storm kept soaking his blades and body.
At least he didn't have to worry about getting drenched in blood.
Whether it was the synchronization with the storm or simply the sheer intensity of the wind, it felt as if gusts were slicing between his ribs.
The sensation was oddly refreshing.
'Or maybe it just feels refreshing to be the one doing the slicing.'
Regardless of the thought, his hands and feet stayed busy.
Crack, ting, thud, stab.
Noise to some, but for Enkrid, these were vivid afterimages burned into his mind.
He fought by hearing and motion, striking down those with enhanced perception again and again—guided by sound.
And with just that, the flow of the battlefield began to shift.
Can one human change the course of a river?
Maybe, if they keep piling up huge stones and digging tirelessly to redirect its path.
Some people do just that.
It takes days, maybe months or years.
But a knight is a disaster—he can change the battlefield, change the river, in mere moments.
It's like a natural calamity shifting the terrain.
An earthquake carving out a new path.
That's what a knight can do.
Just like what Enkrid was doing now.
SSSSKRAAAAAAA!
Above him, the sorcery serpent let out a cry that blanketed the entire battlefield.
His heart pounded in rhythm with the serpent's scream.
'That pressure… so that's what a higher-ranked monster exudes.'
Just hearing it made his skin crawl.
Made you feel like you had to turn around.
A primal fear—a shapeless dread—demanded a reaction from every part of his body.
It told him to freeze, to tremble in fear.
But that didn't work on Enkrid.
And no one here would break just from that.
Still, it wasn't without effect.
Right then, from behind, Riley shouted—his voice filled with fury.
Enkrid saw him.
Though far away, distance didn't matter.
That's the upside of his hearing-based vision.
The downside?
It was all black and white.
No detail, no nuance.
The bulging veins on Riley's neck, for example—Enkrid couldn't see them.
Not that he needed to.
He could imagine them well enough.
"Anyone running on fumes—breathe now!"
Riley's neck was probably bulging with effort.
"Woooooh!"
Ana Hera echoed the cry from far away, the same fierce energy in her voice.
These were the ones holding the line against the monstrous wave.
They couldn't hold out forever.
'I need to conserve my strength... Fight to the end.'
In that sense, Riley was a damn good vice-commander.
The man fought on one leg—he had to burn through twice as much energy as anyone else.
Even if this was his first time in such a battle, he understood that going full tilt would only get him killed.
So he was pacing himself.
Fighting smart.
'Hold out.'
Enkrid never stopped moving.
Never lifted his head.
And yet, he felt someone's gaze.
Violent.
Murderous.
From beyond the storm-drawn monochrome world, a monster—acting as the conduit for the sorcery—locked eyes with him.
The Medusa's gaze.
He didn't need to look to feel the pressure.
'Only a knight would dare face a monster like that.'
That was why it had such an overwhelming presence—even through a mere glance.
High-ranking monsters instinctively wield techniques similar to a knight's aura.
They impose fear—targeting beings they view as prey.
Like a frog frozen before a snake, they paralyze humans and other intelligent species.
Even that wailing serpent overhead was likely part of the Medusa's oppressive aura.
The Demon Realm must be filled with monsters like this.
And that's why intelligent species had never conquered it.
All they could do was fight—and endure.
So, is it scary?
Not at all.
Someday, I will meet all the monsters living in the magic realm.
If it were easy, it wouldn't be called a dream.
Enkrid's dream is always difficult and seemingly impossible.
That's how it appeared.
'I'll cut them all down.'
There was no room for small worries in such a simple and straightforward goal.
Once again, Enkrid felt the greatness of Hescal as he thought about it.
The very tactic of using Medusa not as a soldier but as a medium for magic was truly impressive.
'A more efficient deployment.'
It was a tactic that slowly consumed his stamina.
Once again, Hescal had to be considered clever.
How many had he killed?
The number was meaningless; he had cut and stabbed far too many.
He had used his Will sparingly, so there was no explosive momentum or overwhelming pressure—just a steady reduction of their numbers.
Now, Enkrid's range was far wider than what could be seen with his eyes.
Therefore, he could read his enemies' movements even before his instincts warned him.
'Skillful.'
Someone had prepared a net after watching what he was doing.
As he circled around, he noticed eight archers targeting him, and dozens of arrows floating in the storm, black-tipped and ready to strike.
In the midst of it all, he saw a lone "human" wearing a helmet.
The armor was thin and made of a material that shimmered faintly in the rain.
If you looked only at the situation, he would seem like the prey drawn to a trap set for him.
Given that he noticed the net now, it didn't seem like it was hastily made.
Well, maybe not, but that was the feeling.
"Wasn't that guy supposed to be a normal knight?"
Hescal's apprentice could see Enkrid's movements, thanks to the monster's eye embedded in his forehead.
Hescal didn't have such an eye, so he couldn't sense Enkrid's presence or follow his movements with his eyes, but he knew Enkrid was doing something tricky.
As soon as Enkrid disappeared, monsters with clairvoyant abilities started falling one by one, so it wasn't hard to deduce what had happened.
Also, by observing the battlefield from afar, it was easy to grasp the situation.
'Up close, you see the trees, but from afar, you see the forest.'
A lumberjack only cuts down the trees right in front of him, but a forest keeper looks at the entire forest and cuts just the right number of trees.
In this respect, Hescal was more like a forest keeper.
"I'm surprised too."
"Nothing ever goes as expected."
"The opponent is Yohan. He should show this much strength."
"But it doesn't seem like Yohan is the one showing it, does it?"
That's what made it even more surprising.
Not only was the curse that could be called a disease not spreading any further, but also the fact that the person holding it back was still standing.
'Enkrid of Border Guard, he fights well.'
Hescal was even more amazed by this.
Outwardly, it could seem like admiration, but Hescal simply spoke in a composed manner.
"I've prepared something. I was going to catch Rhinox, but it can't be helped."
Hescal spoke.
The eye embedded in the apprentice's forehead blinked twice.
With that blink, his sight shifted, and his gaze turned toward the family head and Alexandra.
"Are you just going to leave them?"
Despite his abrupt words, Hescal understood well.
The entire battlefield had been envisioned in his mind.
"At this point, I could say they've been weakened. Those who should be sick are still standing."
"That's sacrilege. Are you blaming the god's power?"
"No, not at all."
This is Yohan, he had expected this much.
Even after he killed Mileschia to prevent this, they were still holding on.
Well, not everything goes according to plan.
If it had been that easy, there wouldn't have been any need for all this.
"It's just beginning."
Hescal said, looking up at the sky.
The dark clouds and rain made it hard to keep his eyes open.
Unless he had picked up a monster's eye and embedded it in his forehead, he wouldn't be able to see the sky properly.
So maybe it was fortunate, after all.
"Hoo."
Even though Hescal said it was just the beginning, he let out a long sigh.
In that sigh, there seemed to be a hint of bitterness, but the apprentice of Dmule didn't hear it.
Even if his eyes were special, his ears were still human.
The disciple couldn't leave his position, so it was already decided who would step forward.
Even if parts of the picture in his mind had been distorted, the overall framework remained intact.
Hescal looked ahead.
Nothing had changed.
Victory still belonged to him.
"Do you desire divinity? Then be faithful, Hescal of Yohan."
"I know," Heskal replied as he began to move.
It was his turn to step onto the stage.
"Tell your master to bring out what was prepared."
"With just one Death Knight, we can slay that Clan Head and those standing beside him."
"That's what you think. The command of this battle is mine."
Andante had become a knight who returned from death.
With that alone, perhaps he could take down someone like Alexandra?
Who knows.
"If we lose even after your master steps in, your life won't be spared."
"If we lose and I'm still alive, I'll hang myself, don't worry."
He truly meant it when he said he'd hang himself if they lost.
Hescal was sincere in everything he did.
It was something he had learned from the Clan Head.
"Whatever you do, you must do it wholeheartedly."
Even if you're deceiving someone, it must be done with sincerity.
From the Clan Head's creed and way of life, Hescal had developed his own swordsmanship.
Even a deceitful blade had to carry true intent.
He didn't believe his sword would ever reach the Clan Head.
Then, who should his blade be aimed at?
The answer was obvious.
I'm sorry.
If he killed Ragna—the prodigal son returned—first, even the Clan Head's stone heart might waver.
That would ultimately cloud his judgment and create an opportunity for their side to take the upper hand.
As the four monsters meant to keep the Clan Head occupied began to move, Hescal turned to seek Ragna.
Coincidentally—or perhaps not—Ragna was just beginning to walk as well.
***
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