Chapter 744 - Resentment and Despair
"It's simply my time to die. Everyone has to die someday."
Enkrid looked at Jaxen, who faced his own death with composure.
After Jaxen, it was Audin's turn.
"The Apostle of War will lead you forth."
Using the last of his breath, Audin offered a consecration prayer.
"I think these were the happiest days of my life."
The half-giant, Teresa, quietly sang as she died.
"My fiancé, it's time for you to take a spirit as your bride."
Shinar kept joking until her final moment. It was so like her.
Grrr...
'Why is Esther a leopard?'
The only witch Enkrid knew died in the form of a leopard. Many others died as well.
The Book Called Nightmare was filled with nothing but the contents of loss.
How they died wasn't revealed, but the certainty of approaching death closed in so starkly that his heart ached with its reality.
"Watch closely and enjoy. It's just beginning now."
The Ferryman deliberately gnawed at Enkrid's mind.
Like a squirrel chewing away at an acorn shell, he slowly injected a mental poison, bit by bit.
Upon waking, Enkrid pushed aside last night's nightmare—which had featured an even more extravagant cast than before. There was no point in dwelling on it; remembering didn't change anything, and trying to persuade the Ferryman with words was unlikely to stop these torments each night. If anything, he had only his instincts to rely on.
'He's after something.'
There was always a reason behind the Ferryman's actions.
The motives weren't easy to figure out, so it wasn't clear how to respond.
So Enkrid simply focused on what needed to be done.
Fel had collapsed last night after standing at attention for three days straight.
"For what purpose have you gathered us here, brother?"
Audin, standing to one side of the Dueling Hall, spoke up as Enkrid approached.
"Don't you know how busy I am?"
There was Rem, who had not a care in the world.
"What's going on so early in the morning?"
Although the sun had long since risen, the lazybones insisted it was still early.
Jaxen stood silently with his arms crossed, and Shinar—who sometimes smiled with a beauty that could be captured in a portrait, but today wore her usual blank expression—was there as well.
Esther had transformed into a leopard and rested her face on her front legs, watching everything, while Teresa sat quietly beside her.
Enkrid looked over at them all and began to loosen up.
Starting from his fingertips, Enkrid carefully warmed up every muscle in his body.
"What on earth are we actually doing here?"
"Step forward, Rem."
Enkrid locked eyes with the troublemaking barbarian.
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted, though all Enkrid had done was slide his left foot slightly forward.
Luagarne, who was watching, realized that Enkrid's movement was part of his tactical swordsmanship.
'That left foot could be the beginning of an attack, but it could just as easily be the start of a feint.'
Tactical swordsmanship is about securing every possible advantage in combat.
Rem started to say something but fell silent.
Before he knew it, his hand had tightened its grip on the handle of his axe.
The distance between them was just right—perfect for swinging a weapon.
Truth be told, both of them were so seasoned in fighting that the distance was almost irrelevant—they could swing a sword or an axe from wherever they stood.
Still, as they were now, one good swing would land a blow.
The sounds of the world faded away, and Enkrid's vision narrowed.
Now, all he could see was Rem.
'The distance is in my favor.'
He'd given Samcheol to Aetri, so now only Penna hung at his waist.
Even so, Penna was longer than an axe, giving him a slight edge in reach.
And the surroundings? Rem would be better at using the surroundings. Optimizing a situation is his specialty—he instinctively and intuitively takes advantage of everything around him.
Even as Enkrid took in every detail of the situation and environment, he never took his eyes off Rem.
Rem did the same.
Neither of them blinked. Even as dust drifted by on the breeze, they stood unmoving.
The early summer sunlight touched blades of grass pushing up between the stones of the Dueling Hall.
It was a hot day—not ideal for standing around.
Enkrid and Rem swung their weapons at each other. It was impossible to say who moved first.
That's how quick they were—each reading the rhythm and breath of the other, almost in sync.
'He's gotten even better.'
Rem thought Enkrid's sword now moved as fast as his own axe.
Clang!
Metal met metal, sparks flew. Dozens of lines of attack nearly reached their targets, but every one fell short.
Enkrid moved with calculated precision, while Rem swung his axe and shifted his feet by instinct.
Rem didn't hold back; he immediately invoked his descent, imbuing his body with a spell as he whirled through the attack—even though he knew he'd feel the strain later.
Enkrid was no different. With an explosive surge of Will, he channeled power throughout his entire body.
Their fight was like a cart accelerating downhill. It would take someone incredibly strong to stop all that momentum.
If you were simply helping one of them kill the other, it would actually be easier.
But restraining them both without injury—even if the Mercenary King Anu were here, it would be difficult.
Even if Ragna and Audin charged in together, could they stop them without either getting hurt?
It wouldn't be easy.
As Enkrid swung his sword, he lost himself in the moment.
'Faster.'
He narrowed the gap between thought and action, catching up to the instinctive intuition that Rem demonstrated.
Enkrid's sword suddenly sped up even further—a flash of light. No, this was more than that: it was a chain of flashes, like lightning.
Rem's axe moved toward the sword drawing streaks of white. Now Rem was the typhoon, breaking and swallowing that lightning.
His axe met the attack, tracing the most optimal path.
But Enkrid went a step further, collecting an explosive surge of intent and releasing it at a single point in an instant.
At the end of their exchange, Penna, pivoting on Enkrid's left foot, drew a line in the air—and Rem's arm was caught right on that line
Slice.
Enkrid cut off Rem's right arm. Rem heard the sickening sound of flesh splitting, ringing in his ears.
At the same time, he brought his axe down on Enkrid's shoulder. He struck, but didn't cut through; it would leave a reasonably deep wound, nothing more.
So Rem understood. If this fight went on, he would lose.
"I've lost."
That was Rem's inner thought. If the battle continued, the one who lost an arm would inevitably lose.
It wasn't just about losing a single arm. When a limb that was attached is suddenly gone, the resulting loss of sensation creates dissonance, and it takes time to adjust to the new balance. In a fight against a Knight, that would be a fatal weakness.
"Still, I won't win gracefully."
Enkrid recited inwardly as well, narrowing his eyes, acknowledging that even after losing an arm, Rem was no easy opponent.
It wasn't hard to imagine the berserker Spirit swinging his axe with just one arm.
In a real fight to the death, there would be no time for the dissonance or the shift in balance to matter. He'd close the distance, endure the pain, hack flesh for flesh, break bone for bone.
He could see it. But there was no need for the fight to go that far.
The battle was over here
"...What did you just do?"
Sweat dripping from Rem's chin hit the floor.
"Pretty fun, right?" Enkrid replied, tossing the question back.
Rem spun his right arm in a circle and answered. It had all been an illusion. More precisely, because they both understood each other's skills so well, they fought in a virtual space.
"It is fun."
"I heard that in the Empire, they start by teaching how to materialize pressure. So I figured something like this should be possible."
When he first met Yohan's House Head, Enkrid remembered, the man's greatsword looked like it could cut someone down at any moment.
That was the materialization of pressure.
If he could handle that a bit more finely, it seemed possible to spar in a virtual realm as well.
That meant they could fight intensely—deeper, richer, riskier duels—without having to use real swords. Now that their skills had improved, a real fight would mean serious injury for one of them, so Enkrid had come up with this method.
It wasn't that he wanted to learn some sanitized fencing for sparring's sake. Training was good, but—
'There's no training better than real combat.'
That was something he realized while teaching people struggling to survive in small villages As a result, what Enkrid and Rem actually did was stand in place, twitching their fingers and only shifting their foot positions, yet fought entirely through the force and intent they projected from where they stood. Of course, this acrobatics act required extraordinary insight from each of them, as well as a clear understanding of their own current abilities.
"The servant of the Lord awaits his next turn."
"You've really come up with something interesting."
Audin and Ragna each chimed in with a comment. Shinar also showed her determination to jump in and make her presence felt.
Jaxen unfolded his arms and said,
"If we're doing it this way, I think I can show something interesting, too."
They clashed in the virtual realm and then crossed swords a few times in real life.
If you couldn't enjoy this very process, what joy was left in the world?
Moving your body was a pleasure.
Swinging a sword—now, that was even more fun.
Every time he faced an attack that defied convention, Enkrid felt a rush of exhilaration.
Before he knew it, last night's dream was completely forgotten.
Shinar unleashed not a winter mountain breeze, but a full-blown summer storm.
Audin not only demonstrated his power with his will alone, but also showed just how fearsome a well-trained body can be by tensing his muscles until they nearly burst.
Once you were caught in his grip, it was nearly impossible to turn the tide—Audin's hands, which twisted and broke joints, looked like they could shatter anything.
Ragna casually drew his sword and said,
"My sword's name is Sunrise; some call it the Rising Sun."
"If it touches you, it burns."
This was a weapon handed down in his family, which Ragna had imbued with his own Will, engraving it as his own.
It wasn't a newly forged sword, but to Ragna, it felt prepared especially for him.
The blade radiated intense heat.
Even just brushing past one's collar was enough to ignite flames.
Compared to their virtual battles, sparring lightly in real life made the power of Sunrise even more apparent.
"If it so much as grazes you, your clothes will catch fire."
It was said that it could generate such scorching heat that even the sweat running down your body would evaporate instantly.
Sunrise—the Rising Sun—was aptly named.
After all, nothing in this world was hotter than the sun itself.
Jaxen's style was a decisive, single-blow duel.
In their last match, his bloodless thrust had been a strike with all killing intent erased.
But this time, it was different.
He attacked without regard for his own safety, willing to sacrifice an arm if it meant taking his opponent's life.
"Go ahead and try to block it."
Jaxen spoke with a grin—a smile of satisfaction.
It wasn't only Enkrid who felt a thrill.
After all, the Madmen Knights were a gathering of people just like this.
"This is pretty fun."
Rem's words echoed the sentiments of everyone there.
They soon returned to their lives as Border Guards.
Enkrid worked up a sweat, trying to shake off the nightmares, but even that night—and the next day—the Ferryman continued to focus his efforts on Enkrid.
"My child has become fatherless."
It was Ayul, Rem's wife.
In her arms, she held a newborn baby.
It must have been Rem and Ayul's child.
"Is this really right?"
She asked.
The look on her face seemed to demand whether Rem's death was their only option—was this truly the best outcome?
The Ferryman's nightmares came as a series.
After loss came resentment.
"My son is dead, then."
Next, the Ragged Saint appeared, staring blankly at Enkrid.
Leona, who had lost her trading company, collapsed to the ground, muttering that this wasn't what she wanted at all.
"It's not over yet."
The Ferryman spoke.
After loss and resentment, he presented a third act as well.
The theme of the third nightmare was despair.
Enkrid dreamed a long dream.
In it, he lived on for more than ten more years.
In the end, the Border Guard endured, and with Krang's help, Naurilia grew prosperous.
But one day, pitch-black darkness enveloped the area around the Border Guard.
The city became completely overrun with monsters and beasts.
All contact with the outside world was cut off.
It was an inevitable outcome, brought about by the existence of the Demonic Domains.
"Commander!"
Krais came looking for him. It wasn't hard to read the emotions in his eyes.
"You're going to fight until the very end, aren't you?"
He asked.
The determination Enkrid had shown had rubbed off on Krais as well.
He wasn't consumed by anxiety or fear.
But he knew how this would end.
"You'll fight until the moment you die, right?"
Everyone accepted that they would die here.
Krais spoke, and everyone gathered.
Enkrid and the others fought against the darkness surrounding the Border Guard for a full year.
Their stockpiled food ran out, and even the cries for those who were dying eventually ceased
If you leave alone, you can survive.
You know that too, don't you?
Leave.
Go and live.
Walk toward a comfortable tomorrow.
Was it a dream within a dream?
In the depths of despair, the Ferryman whispered to him.
Enkrid did not listen.
Enemies were still everywhere, and there was no stopping them.
Trapped in this endless day of fighting monsters and beasts, the Ferryman spoke to him again.
"Is this really what you desire?"
Loss, resentment, despair.
The three things stabbed and twisted in his heart, but their impact was not overwhelming.
In truth, Enkrid had already found his answer to what the Ferryman had shown him.
'It's foolish to wait around hoping for someone's help.'
At the same time, he knew that alone he could do nothing.
Enkrid had already awakened to that truth.
Shaking off the nightmare, he heard the Ferryman's final words, carried through the dream.
"You are beyond my reach."
Enkrid figured that was the Ferryman's most persistent effort in a long time.
It couldn't be helped that, in the end, he let him down.
When he woke, dawn had not yet broken—but someone else was already up before him.
Fel rested the tip of Idol Slayer on the floor of the dueling hall, his gaze calm and composed.
There was no tremor in his eyes, and his presence was steady—like a tranquil lake.
"Commander."
"Yes."
"If I win, does that mean I become the Commander of the Knights?"
Enkrid understood Fel's condition at a glance.
He recognized a fool gripped by a sense of omnipotence, sword in hand.
"Then I'd say today might just be the day I take that seat."
Fel had become far more unhinged than when they'd first met.
It was probably all Rem's influence.
After all, in the Madmen Knights, there weren't many like Enkrid who could keep their sanity intact.
Enkrid picked up a practice sword.
Its edge was blunt, making it just as suitable for use as a club.
***
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