"Give up," the ferryman said. He seemed not even to have listened to whether the method would work.

"Does this today torment you? Another today awaits you. Go there and content yourself with it."

An attempt at persuasion, though even the ferryman put no heart into it. Naturally, it made not the slightest impression. He knew it would not, which explained his halfhearted manner. He sounded as though he was only saying it because it was something he had to say.

There was no need to make an effort. The crazy bastard before him had tossed frustration and despair to the neighbor's dog and was looking only ahead. Told to remain trapped in today, he looked only toward tomorrow.

"Do as you wish, then. See what you can accomplish. I sought to bless a mortal with release from death, yet you persist in this foolishness. Cease your struggles and immerse yourself in pleasure, not torment. That is the path you must take."

Even so, the ferryman said his piece. That was his task. Encrid did his part, too.

"Until next time, then."

A farewell. He was saying he would be off now. It even sounded like a request to hurry up and send him back.

For a moment, a new self awoke within the ferryman of such antiquated diction. His hand tightened unconsciously around his oar. He felt the urge to crack the bastard's skull with his lamp, then swing the oar and beat him with it, but the genteel ferryman would not permit that.

"Writhe in agony once more," he said instead, his lips taut.

"Thank you for the encouragement."

Having infuriated the ferryman to the very last, Encrid greeted a new today.

SKREEEEEE!

The screaming spider's cry woke him. His today, lasting from midnight until dawn, had begun.

"Good morning."

With that cheerful greeting, Encrid tensed his stomach, sat up in one motion, and climbed out of bed. Had he cleared out the parlor and turned it into sleeping quarters because he was accustomed to barracks life? Perhaps. In any case, he preferred it this way. What could be better than having somewhere to train right outside the door?

"Explain what's so good about this morning," Rem grumbled.

"Any morning you open your eyes is a good one."

It was plainly nighttime, and he had just been woken by a scream, but Encrid insisted otherwise as he armed himself.

As he moved, he went back over what he had worked out. Review. Battles were not the only things that needed Review. Organizing his tasks through these repeated todays was much the same. More precisely, he was Reviewing everything, from his mindset to what he needed to do.

The knight Oara had said she would protect the place where she was born. That was her dream. Her goal. Her conviction as a knight. Her responsibility and duty. Her vow. Her covenant.

Through his repeated todays, he had learned what oath she had sworn: to be taken aback by nothing, and to greet even death with a smile. That was her oath. Hence, Oara of the Smile.

When she lost her smile, her sword lost its strength. What could he do to prevent that? To end this repeating today, he had to protect the city. He had to preserve the smile on her face. That also meant protecting her dream.

["I don't lose when I smile."]

Oara had no intention of losing to anyone.

'That might be possible, if she could just fight in good condition.'

Nothing was certain, but he would try. He only needed to do what he always did.

Encrid had grasped the whole situation. By feel, he sorted out what needed doing and settled on his tasks. He found himself missing Krais, but his absence did not matter. He would simply manage without him.

"Let's go," Encrid said, fully armed.

The resolve to advance, fight, and protect rose within him unbidden. He wanted to become a knight to protect everything behind him, and this was no different. Did being a knight, being a better fighter than him, mean Oara was not someone he could protect? No. In this respect, Encrid was arrogant. Conceited.

'I'll protect her.'

He would do it because he respected what she wanted.

["All of you, run."]

There had been an Oara who told them to retreat because she could not protect them. An Oara who held on even if it meant sinking her teeth into the arm of the monster called a balrog fragment. An Oara who fought monsters with her fists and feet even after she lost her smile and Smile broke.

At the very least, he would let her fight to her heart's content. Encrid set himself a new goal.

"Do you think that will work?"

He could almost hear the ferryman asking. He had not actually asked, but everything he said carried that same meaning. An irrelevant question. Irrelevant persuasion. A meaningless echo.

He needed no permission. He had never had any, after all. Even his supposed consultation with the ferryman had been little more than a way to sort things out by saying them aloud. Now that was done.

They left the lodgings and became part of the noisy cityscape. As they walked, Encrid spoke.

"Rem."

"What?"

"Is there a way to fight like a knight in a short time?"

Rem looked into the lunatic's eyes. As always, those eyes were utterly earnest. Every so often, this bastard went spectacularly mad. This was another such occasion. Rem did not know what had brought on this change of heart, but he had clearly come up with another crazy idea.

"Does that sound possible to you?"

He was asking when he knew it was impossible. And yet those eyes were sincere again. Two blue flames burned and danced.

"What you people here call a knight—"

"It's a wave."

Just as Rem began, the commander of a passing unit spoke. Encrid gave a perfunctory nod of acknowledgment.

He walked as though he knew exactly where he was going, and quite quickly. Slower than a run, but a brisk walk at least. He was outpacing the unit that had announced the wave. Rem matched his pace and continued.

"You mean using Will. I know how to use that Will stuff myself."

Will was willpower. Rem knew that, too. But he was the sort who walked a different path.

"But I lean in a different direction. Even if I did go that way, the short answer is, you can't do what you can't do."

So that was that. There was no way to imitate a knight's might in a short time. Encrid turned his gaze sideways. The blue flames' next target was the Frog.

"Lua."

"There isn't."

Luagarne's answer was even shorter. She saw no impatience in him.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just because."

His answer was simple. Even if they asked, he had no answer to give. Was he supposed to say he had a plan because he knew what was about to happen? That he wanted to let Oara fight properly, and to do his part in that, he needed to learn to fight as well as a knight in a short time? As if they would believe that. As if they would accept it.

Gather the exceptionally gifted and select the best. Then select the best of those. A rare few, even among that final selection. That was what knights were. There were no shortcuts. Of course it was impossible.

But might there be a way, if it was only a single sword stroke? Could that one stroke not turn the battle?

"Let's run."

Encrid spoke and set off. Naturally, there were things he had heard, seen, and learned through the repeated todays.

"Roman!"

At the gate, Encrid sought out the proto knight with the greatsword club.

"... What?"

Roman turned after driving his pommel into a spider monster's head and kicking it away outside the gate. Black monster fluids pooled before him. They had spattered his face and clothes, making him a fearsome sight. His menacing features could have made him Rem's brother, but Encrid saw hope in him.

"That strike you used before. How do you do it?"

Roman blinked several times, wondering what nonsense he was spouting. Then he understood and spoke.

"That's what you want to ask right now?"

Roman asked with his mouth, then asked again with his eyes: Was this bastard completely insane? Encrid nodded.

"Yes. I want to know."

"Master, I think this one's gone mad!"

Roman raised his voice. Up on the wall, Oara burst into laughter.

"Oh, just tell him."

"Why should I give away my secret!"

Meanwhile, Encrid drove Spark into a charging spider demonic beast. With his left foot extended forward, the blade shot out like a flash of light. In that flash, Spark pierced the spider's head and withdrew.

After fighting them so often, he knew their patterns all too well. They liked to surround a smaller force with superior numbers. A few key individuals made that possible. Encrid punched a hole in one creature's head, then threw all three of his remaining whistle daggers.

Repeating today brought mastery of his techniques. This time was no different. Encrid wasted no time. He kept thinking, but continued his training as usual, using the real combat of killing monsters as practice.

The knives flew a little more viciously than before and punched airholes in the spider demonic beasts' heads. He followed with his javelin, disrupting the flow of their attack. The creatures whose movements had been subtly troublesome began charging mindlessly in a straight line.

"Hmph!"

The short-haired blonde began thrusting with a relatively long, slender spear. Its shaft flexed, and the spearhead multiplied into dozens at once, piercing the approaching spiders without regard for head or body.

Soundless screams rang out. Black blood streamed from mouths that looked like six pieces of metal joined together, spread open to either side. Such was the effect of the poisoned spearhead.

Encrid's eyes took in her spear, her technique.

'A dangerous technique against a crowd.'

She was a proto knight who displayed overwhelming force against weaker foes. He already knew that, so he gave her only a passing glance.

"Looks like you've got a little time now."

Encrid spoke after dispatching a swarm of spiders.

"Are you seriously asking me to just lay my secrets bare?"

"You don't want to?"

"This bastard really is mad."

Roman shook his head as he spoke.

"Just tell me."

Encrid did not tire. Had there been time, he would have taken it slowly, asking only once or twice a day. But things were different now. Beyond his desire to learn and master the technique, here was a way to help Oara fight. So it seemed to him. There was no better way. And so he pestered him.

"Tell me."

When he asked while killing spiders, Roman snapped.

"Somebody get this bastard out of here!"

"He's not the sort to leave just because you tell him to," Rem said with a snicker.

It felt like the first time in a while he had seen Encrid do something truly insane. Once, Jaxon had simply taught Encrid the sensory arts—during the repetition of the second today he had encountered in the Medical Barracks, to be precise. Jaxon had done so because he knew Encrid would not give up. The man was persistent, obsessive, and a crazy bastard.

"Will you get lost?"

Roman grew angry again. He looked ready to swing his weapon at Encrid instead of the spider monsters.

Encrid paid him no heed. He was like solid rock. Rock that would never be worn through even if drops of water struck the same spot dozens of times. Or steel. Or black gold. It was determination rising to become stubbornness.

"Bwahahaha!"

Oara clutched her stomach and laughed at the sight. Rem snickered as he split a spider's head.

Watching them, Dunbachel felt her foreboding ease a little. Wave or not, that crazy bastard was making all this fuss just to learn one technique. A lunatic indeed.

Only after resisting twelve times did Roman concede defeat.

"You crazy fucking lunatic, would you even understand if I told you?"

"Probably not."

Fuck, why was he agreeing with that now?

By this point, Oara could no longer stand. She rolled about atop the wall, laughing until tears ran down her face.

Rem was satisfied. Everyone around them, the soldiers watching, even the archers atop the wall—now they all knew, didn't they? This was a madman on an entirely different level from the rest of them.

"But you still want me to tell you?"

"Let's hear it first."

"Do I owe you something?"

"No."

"Don't admit it! Stop agreeing right away!"

Seething, Roman began his explanation.

"Look, a knight's sword strokes are fundamentally imbued with Will."

Encrid knew that much. Roman took it a little further. Why could he not block Oara's sword? He had asked her, and this had been her answer.

["I swirled my Will around."]

It was an abstract answer. Roman himself did not know whether the goddess of luck had helped him then, or whether insight had come after long deliberation. He had simply found a direction and pursued it.

"I imbued my whole body with Will as I swung, from my fingertips to the tips of my toes."

It was not an easy explanation to follow.

"Isn't that what you normally do?" Encrid asked.

He used Will that way himself. When he thrust with all his strength, he applied the Instant's acceleration in one burst. The same went for White Thunderbolt, and for the slash he had named Giant's All-Out Strike.

As he spoke, Roman struck an approaching spider in the head.

CRACK!

Its head shattered under a single punch. He was not a proto knight for nothing.

With that, the monsters waiting in readiness began emerging from the Demonic Realm as usual. Five trolls, the bipedal spider, and two owlbears. This time there was an extra owlbear, and the trolls had come out as well.

Yet the dizzying sense of peril was markedly weaker than before. Ridiculously enough, the sight of Encrid learning something had lifted his allies' spirits. It was unintentional. Thanks to that, even the monsters' arrows came later.

Oara came down from the wall, wiping the corners of her eyes with a finger.

"Whew. I nearly died laughing."

Not something a knight known as Oara of the Smile should be saying.

"So, is there anything else?"

Even as the atmosphere changed, Encrid persisted. Roman marveled at him before answering.

"Do you use Will when you use a fork? When you draw your sword, for instance? When you take your stance?"

The meaning of Roman's words was simple.

'Control every motion, down to the movement of the smallest muscle.'

For what? For one single sword stroke. Only then did Encrid understand what Roman meant.

Until he greeted a new today again, Encrid kept practicing what Roman had described, but naturally, it was not easy. If anything, he was at a loss. Hearing it did not mean he could make it happen. Had Will ever been something that moved exactly as he wished?

That was the beginning.

When people encounter a ray of light in the impenetrable dark, they speak of hope. Encrid did not speak of hope, because he had never given up on anything or let go. Still, something he had gained through Roman set his heart ablaze.

What was he doing now? Imitating. Just as he imitated Ragna's sword. But could he perfectly copy a knight's sword and wield it himself? In short, no. Why?

'Because every knight walks a different path.'

All their swords were different. He knew it from experience. The knight of Aspen, Ragna, the Mercenary King, and Sinar had taught him that. So he would have to find his own path and advance, rather than imitate. This was the beginning.

Encrid studied how to deliver a knight-level strike. To do so, he had to spend another hundred and sixty-two todays. Only then did he reach the realm of understanding. No—he had understood it in his head. Better to call it the realm where his body responded.

"Keeping Will in every movement of your toes, in every single finger. That's it, isn't it?"

At that question, asked with understanding, Roman's eyes widened in the newly begun today.

"You genius bastards."

And so he misunderstood. Encrid did not bother to correct him. It was time to put his plan into motion.