A knight's strike. That was all Encrid wanted.

What did he need to do to achieve it? He had no idea, so he asked.

"Move my Will? What, can't you just do it?"

That was Rem's answer. Encrid was reminded that the crazy bastard whose hobby was beheading nobles was a genius.

"So Will can be used that way."

Luagarne became a scholar and began her research. What she said afterward proved immensely helpful.

"Why not break it down and approach it piece by piece?"

Break down the movements. Imbue every motion of drawing and thrusting the sword with Will. She meant he should do things differently from the preparations onward.

Encrid rephrased his questions and listened to the answers. He questioned Roman incessantly, too. One day, he stayed by Oara's side and asked her as well.

"What am I supposed to tell you? It just happens."

Oara's answer was much like Rem's. Ragna would probably say something similar, and so would Audin. Would Jaxon be any different?

"You just do it more or less like this."

Ragna would answer with a swing of his sword.

"Prayer makes all things possible."

That was what Audin would say.

"You need to feel it with your senses."

Wouldn't Jaxon say something like that?

Encrid felt as though he had heard advice from those men far away in Border Guard.

Prayer might not be the answer, but meditation would be. Swinging any old way wouldn't work, but he mustn't forget to move naturally.

Could keen senses let him feel Will? No, but they would let him recognize how these movements differed from his usual ones.

Such things were possible when the student was better at learning than his teachers were at teaching. For the first time in his life, Encrid had reached the point where learning one thing led him to understand two.

Anyone who knew where he had started would have been astonished, but no one could know that now. Even Rem, watching beside him, could hardly notice.

High horizontal cuts, strikes beside the eye, cuts to the crown, counterstrikes, half-sword fighting, parrying, deflecting, combination strikes, closing in, pressing the edge against a target to slice.

After reviewing his techniques, he picked one out.

'Let's stab.'

He decided to follow his heart.

Encrid focused entirely on the thrust of his sword. He raised Spark and drove it forward. The understanding he had gained while repeating his very first today lay within that movement, as did his understanding of the Will of the Instant.

'Should I separate them?'

No. He should combine them.

'The tips of my toes.'

All he had to do was step forward and thrust his sword. What would it take to make the attack impossible to even think of blocking?

'Speed and strength.'

This was a realm imitation could not reach. Of the principles of The Oniak Sword Technique, this point emphasized swiftness: speed.

He repeated it. Time flowed. Today passed, then passed again. The hourglass that ran for Encrid alone shed its grains.

Time that should have eaten away at an ordinary person's mind and left them a wreck. Time they should have spent howling of despair and frustration. Time they should have spent agonizing over why such trials had been inflicted on them. Time they should have spent cursing the gods and parents whose faces they didn't even know.

He poured all that time into training. He did so as he listened to Oara scream.

"You're enjoying their deaths."

The ferryman sneered. Encrid ignored him.

Soldiers died. Milio died. Rowena died.

"Having fun?"

The ferryman asked. Instead of answering, Encrid thought only of his sword.

"You cannot cross this wall."

The ferryman declared it with certainty. His words no longer went in one ear and out the other. Encrid didn't even hear them.

"You'll beat the ground in regret. Some things never change."

In the end, even concern entered the ferryman's casual tone. Encrid heard that, too, and let it pass.

["You have too many miscellaneous techniques."]

Oara had told him to discard them, and he had combined them instead. His body naturally brought everything together into one.

Was this the road to knighthood? Or the wrong road? Was it merely a desperate struggle? A waste of time?

He might well have doubted, but Encrid simply took one steadfast step forward.

And those steps brought him to this today.

SCREEEECH!

Waking to the scream, Encrid told Rem to follow and went outside with his sword without even clearing the sleep from his eyes.

"Try blocking this."

He abruptly spoke and thrust. Rem, who had followed him, moved his axe reflexively.

Rem saw a point arrive ahead of its sound and barely blocked it.

CLANG!

The point made by the sword touched the flat of the axe and withdrew.

"Shit, were you trying to put a hole in my axe?"

Had Encrid used his full strength, he might have. He opened and closed his hand several times.

Was this something he couldn't do twice?

Despite his body being conditioned through the Isolation Technique, that single thrust left his ankle, waist, and shoulder aching. His muscles screamed. Even so, it didn't matter.

"Let's go."

Encrid headed for the battlefield. He had played out this single today countless times in his mind.

This was its beginning.

"Dunbachel."

The Beastman, looking strangely anxious, came at his call. Her unwashed face was grimy, and her sour odor assaulted his nose. Encrid spoke to her almost in a whisper.

"Did I ever tell you?"

"... What?"

His sudden friendliness made Dunbachel wary. Her Beastman instincts told her this bastard was up to something.

"I actually trust you."

"..."

Dunbachel blinked at this sudden load of bullshit.

"You're the prettiest Beastman I've ever seen."

Encrid could count the female Beastmen he had seen in his life on his fingers. Dunbachel was unquestionably the first he had ever looked at closely.

Regardless, it came out of nowhere.

"What's brought this on?"

"You're strong."

"Rem, I think he's sick."

"I've always thought you had more potential than I did."

That was true. Encrid knew all too well how little talent he had.

"No fever, though."

Dunbachel brushed her hand across Encrid's forehead.

"So it's all right to run away."

There was a saying on the continent that praise could make even dragonfolk dance. Even dragonfolk, who cared for no one but themselves, liked hearing pleasant words.

Encrid didn't want Dunbachel to become a terrified cat that had pissed itself.

"You can run away, but fight until then. Only for as long as you can."

Dunbachel stopped walking.

Did this man know something?

She wanted to live. All she wanted was to survive, and that tormented her.

'Is staying alive really enough?'

Beastmen had powerful survival instincts by nature. But Dunbachel's were stronger than most. She would do anything to live.

At the same time, she instinctively knew that merely surviving would never let her become anything.

'Beyond surviving, what do I want to become?'

Encrid's words had brought her to a halt. While everyone else moved on, she stood alone with her thoughts. It didn't take long. Before the others had taken even three steps, in the time needed to steady her breathing a few times, she stopped and thought.

'Why am I here?'

She cast a stone called a question into the lake of her being. Ripples formed and spread.

Before they could settle, an answer came. It was a kind of revelation.

'Proof.'

Dunbachel wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with her. That she wasn't a failed product of the Beastman race. That she had lived a proper life even without her parents' love.

That was the sort of thing she wanted to prove.

Having spent her life denying herself, she envied Encrid for always moving forward. But had his road been easy?

"Ah."

With that small exclamation, Dunbachel started walking again. She had decided what to do now. The fear that had blanketed her a moment ago had thinned a little.

One turning point couldn't overcome everything. But just as some people could move forward if they had a signpost, Dunbachel could now see a path of her own.

* * *

"Rowena..."

"If you're going to save her, follow me."

Encrid cut through the commotion at the gate.

"... What?"

Rowena's man stared at Encrid. The unexpected words had brought his thoughts to a brief standstill. But he soon understood and stepped forward.

"You're coming with us?"

"Your name?"

Until now, Encrid hadn't even known this soldier's name.

"Admorr, sir."

"Right. Let's go."

Encrid needed to get these people to go along with his intentions. It was much like persuading Andrew in the tall-grass fields back when he had been a squad leader. Back then, he had started by demonstrating his strength. Now there was no need.

"Aesia!"

At his shout, Aesia emerged from one side, wearing a cloak over her armor.

He had heard that the knight order's cloaks resisted fire and were enchanted to preserve body heat when wrapped around the wearer. They even blocked simple spells; those cloaks were the order's symbol. They weren't cumbersome finery. The knights wore them because they were practical.

"What?"

"Did I ever tell you?"

He spoke just loudly enough for everyone to hear and felt the soldiers turn their eyes toward him. Oara and the proto knights and squires at the front were listening as well.

"... Tell me what?"

Aesia wondered what had gotten into him. The man did crazy things from time to time, and now he had created a peculiar atmosphere that drew everyone's attention.

Quick on the uptake, Encrid recognized her reaction, but ignored it. There was no time to address every little thing.

"That I used to be a highly successful monster hunter."

He had never been one. A monster hunter, yes, but not a highly successful one.

"Did you?"

"I have a feeling."

"What kind of feeling?"

"There's something coiled up in there, like a great snake."

Aesia turned to look. True, the Demonic Realm's ominous air prickled her skin, but she sensed nothing.

"What are you talking about?"

Oara asked from atop the wall.

"The air has changed. The Beastman under my command smelled it, too. She says she smells a plot, not just from the screaming spiders but from deep inside the Demonic Realm."

"I did?"

Dunbachel pointed at herself from one side. Rem deftly shifted his feet to block her from view and said,

"Shut up and watch."

His captain seemed to be scheming something. He didn't know what, but...

'It'll be something fun.'

Encrid wasn't a man who did crazy things without thinking. Rem had faith in him.

"Rem, Dunbachel. Get back quickly."

After that, Encrid looked at Rem as he spoke.

"Where am I going?"

"Over there."

Encrid pointed farther in. Meanwhile, Admorr, who had come out to save Rowena, watched them anxiously.

"That's inside the Demonic Realm, isn't it?"

"Scared?"

"You call that a taunt?"

"No. I'm just asking."

"Shit, I don't know what you're up to, but fine. I'll go."

"Get it done fast and come back."

Encrid gave the order. Rem might well have asked questions. For instance:

"I don't know what's there or what I'm supposed to do. What are you talking about?"

Something like that. It was a frustratingly vague order, after all.

Then would Encrid have to play the prophet and say,

"You'll know when you get there"?

Or should he simply call it intuition? He had prepared no answer at all.

"All right, then."

Rem nodded.

Encrid told Admorr to follow him.

"Look for tracks. You'll be able to save who you're after."

With no other choice, Admorr hurried after Rem.

Encrid watched Rem's retreating back. Back when he had wandered the continent, no one would have listened to him.

In the days of the troublemaker squad, he had used force in similar situations. Andrew came to mind again. There had been times when he had needed to beat obedience into him.

And now?

All he had to do was sell trust to buy action. Through several todays, he had learned that Rem would react this way.

"Now let's go, Aesia."

"Where am I going?"

Beside him, Aesia was utterly baffled as well.

"You'll fight while commanding the squires."

Encrid was firm.

"Now? Me? Over there?"

"Aesia of the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order. You see Thousand Brick in danger, and you want to stand back and watch? And you still intend to wear that scarlet cloak?"

Aesia's eyes blazed at the abrupt rebuke.

"Are you picking a fight?"

"I'm encouraging you."

She moved forward anyway. She had received too much from this man to refuse him. He was the reason she could still wear her scarlet cloak.

She considered herself indebted to him for the civil war. Deeply indebted. There was no reason not to do this much for him.

Encrid killed six spider monsters rampaging in front of the four squires, then raised a foot and stamped hard on the ground.

The heavy report drew everyone's attention, including Roman's. Oara looked at him, too.

"No one is better at hunting monsters than I am. From now on, I command the front line."

"... Was there something wrong with the liquor we drank earlier?"

Roman muttered.

Encrid ignored him. He had bought action with trust. Now it was time to buy trust with action.

"Burrowing spiders. Below us."

Repeating today gave him information in advance. In other words, as long as he acted within a somewhat predictable range, he could know the order of the enemy's attacks.

RUMBLE!

The ground shook. Then a spider's head burst through the earth with a thump.

"Oliver, hit it."

Who had given the order didn't matter. Oliver reflexively drove his mace down.

CRUNCH!

The spider's head burst, spraying black fluid.

"Roman, beneath your feet."

No sooner had Encrid spoken than dust began rising beneath Roman.

These weren't fighters who would fall to something suddenly appearing from the sky or ground. Naturally, with advance warning, smashing a spider as it stupidly poked its head out was no trouble at all.

CRUNCH!

Roman's club-like greatsword plunged straight down and crushed the spider's head.

Spiders emerged within the areas Encrid indicated. When those in formation began pressing forward, the gate behind them started to open.

"Close the gate. The people holding the front now will stop the rest of the monsters. Archers, aim only beyond our heads!"

Encrid spoke quietly at first, then roared the final words.

It was uncharacteristically fiery. Oara nodded atop the wall, interest in her eyes.

She could tell just by looking. His words and gestures brimmed with certainty. She would see what he intended if she watched, and if things went wrong, she could step in. Besides, she didn't think his judgment was bad.

Encrid moved according to plan.

He bought action with trust, and trust with action.

What came next?

Now it was time to fight like hell.