The middle-aged woman's warning meant that the sparring would not be all that entertaining.

The West had warriors, too. Rem was one, as was Ayul. They fought with axes, spears, and broad, single-edged blades. Double-edged swords saw little use here.

For a long weapon, a spear was convenient; for a short one, an axe or a single-edged, falchion-like blade. Spears were useful for hunting, while axes and crescent blades were good for chopping wood or cutting grass. A double-edged sword, however, was inconvenient in all sorts of ways. This was not a place where swordplay alone could earn a living.

Nor were all warriors alike. They shared a refusal to retreat from battle, but their methods could differ. These twins were a case in point. Their strength lay in hunting rather than combat.

Of course, Encrid knew none of that. He merely studied the weapons they held.

'Spears.'

Some sort of rod was attached to the butt of each spear. He was not familiar with the weapon, but he did recognize it. He had occasionally seen mercenaries using one.

'An atlatl, was it?'

A spear-thrower. A tool for transferring force more efficiently than throwing a spear with arm strength alone. Swing the thrower attached to the end with all your might, and that force would send the spear flying. Spears were inherently bulkier and heavier than bows. They could punch straight through a flimsy shield.

Three spears protruded above each twin's right shoulder.

Both Rem and the smoking woman before him had said this would be no fun, but Encrid found it enjoyable all the same. Did every enjoyable fight have to involve charging in with a sword and risking death? No.

When he said he would spar with them, the middle-aged woman replied, "Go ahead, then."

No sooner had she spoken than the twins sprang backward. Their movements were remarkably light as they pushed off the ground.

Encrid quietly watched them retreat and take their stances. As if backing away were not enough, they kept their weight on their heels, ready to dodge or withdraw at any moment.

His gaze left their weapons to examine their eyes, arms, and legs.

'Good balance.'

The defined calf muscles exposed beneath their shorts looked as hard as if there were stones inside them. Those legs would unleash their strength whenever their owners willed it.

The Heart of the Superhuman? No, that was not it. They had extensive experience fighting this way: using thrown weapons before an opponent could close in. Whether hunting or fighting, they would always have used similar methods.

Then what would they do if their spear throws failed? Broad, falchion-like blades swung at their waists.

"Fail to dodge, and you'll die," the woman who had brought the twins said, exhaling smoke.

Encrid could have closed the distance before either twin threw a spear, preventing them from throwing at all. He thought he could more or less shut down their every move that way, but decided against it.

'That wouldn't be much fun.'

He waited out of sheer curiosity. In a spar rather than a fight to the death, surely he could afford to wait? It was composure, not arrogance.

The twins kicked off the ground and retreated like grasshoppers. Like swift, hardy insects, they bounded backward and lowered their stances.

They were on the outskirts of the tent settlement, and with no palisade or anything of the sort, nothing obstructed them. But if he dodged a spear here, wouldn't it tear through a tent? With that thought, Encrid stepped sideways.

As he walked slowly, his steps soft, the twins adjusted their distance. Was that their maximum range? Or the distance at which they could apply the most force? There must be a range at which their throws became far more lethal. These two would have plenty of experience with that.

He could tell by instinct. That was why he said, "Too far."

One twin frowned at that. "Any closer, and you'll get hurt."

"You can come closer," Luagarne said from behind him. The word of a Frog with talent-reading eyes always carried weight, yet the twins did not move.

"Give him what he wants." Only when the middle-aged woman spoke did they advance two steps.

Still a little far, wasn't it? Well, once he blocked a throw, they would change their minds.

He considered several possibilities and pictured the moves. Eyes That See One Step Ahead activated naturally. The placement of their feet, the direction of their toes, their hands, the tension in their fingers, their awkwardly bent knees. He observed and assessed it all, then predicted their actions.

As Dunbachel watched indifferently with only her head poking out of the tent, the twins moved.

THWUMP-THWUMP.

They twisted their entire bodies into the throw and swung their spear-throwers. Two spearheads streaked toward him. Even if he left them alone, they would graze his torso and lodge at an angle behind him.

In that brief instant, Encrid caught a glimpse of their thinking. They had no intention of killing him. He had asked to spar, so they would oblige. But he might get hurt.

Then he swung his sword.

CRACK-CRACK!

The twins could not even see the blade move. Neither spear broke. He had struck them near their heads with the flat of his sword rather than the edge, knocking them aside.

"Oh!" the middle-aged woman exclaimed in admiration.

Before the sound had even finished leaving her lips, both twins sprang backward. They withdrew more than six paces in one leap, a movement made possible by keeping their weight so far back.

Encrid did not pursue. What would be the point? They were no match for him to begin with. Still, their tactics and way of fighting were novel.

'Throw spears from a distance and never let the enemy close in.'

That tactic would only work for someone exceptionally fleet-footed. In other words, these two were exceptionally fast. Come to think of it, Rem was incredibly nimble himself. When he moved in earnest, few besides Ragna, Jaxon, or Audin could even contemplate keeping up.

'Nothing else?'

If this was all they had, then yes, he could see why Rem had called it a little dull.

"Well, you're certainly no ordinary fellow. Call upon your guardian spirits."

The middle-aged woman puffed out another cloud of smoke as she spoke. The twins closed their eyes and began muttering.

Encrid waited again. What would they show him this time?

Rise from the earth and dwell in my arm; descend from the sky and become wings? That was what he heard when he listened to their muttering. At least, that was how it sounded to his ears. With unfamiliar dialect mixed in here and there, he could not make out every word.

When the muttering ended, something changed. Outwardly, they looked the same, but Luagarne exclaimed in admiration, "Oh-ho."

"Hm?" Dunbachel tilted her head.

Encrid felt it instinctively, too. Something was different. But what? Their eyes? Their presence? Beyond their eyes or presence, the strength in their forearms had changed.

"Hah!" One twin moved with a shout.

Concentrate on a Single Point activated on its own, and every movement slowed before Encrid's eyes.

One twin planted his left foot and twisted his entire body, using it like a spear-thrower. The movement traveled through ankle, knee, and waist; his weight shifted from back to front as he extended his arm. The motion was the same as before, but the force was different.

WHIZZ.

Barely had Encrid heard the sound before a dot appeared. The distance was greater, yet it was twice as fast as before. The spearhead came flying toward him, reduced to a single point. He could have believed a proto knight had thrown it.

He could not knock it aside as lightly as before, so he put more strength into his arm.

CLANG!

The spear flew away. Striking the spearhead had required him to tense his forearm. Through the opening that created, another dot came hurtling toward him.

It was the other twin. This time it was not a throw: the man had already charged in and thrust his spear with both hands. It looked as though the thrust might catch him, but Encrid reached out with his left hand and seized the shaft.

SMACK!

The spear's terrifying rush lost all its momentum and stopped dead. The instant Encrid caught the shaft, the charging twin drew the blade at his waist.

SHING.

As the blade began to leave its sheath, Encrid did not simply watch. He had already raised a foot to press down on the hand drawing it.

CLINK-CLINK.

The half-drawn blade scraped against the metal rim of its scabbard.

Encrid let go of Aker entirely, reached out with his right hand, and seized the man by the collar. He shook him rapidly from side to side. The fully grown man swayed like a sheet of paper.

"Urgh!" A startled groan escaped him.

When a body was shaken so suddenly, the brain shook with it. His opponent could not withstand it.

The remaining twin, circling at a distance, changed his angle to aim at Encrid. Encrid smoothly shifted the twin in his grasp sideways like a shield. Throwing now would kill his own brother as well. Would he have done it in a real fight? This, however, was a spar.

"We lose," said the twin who had been throwing spears.

"... Have you, well, done nothing but fight your whole life? Your skill is remarkable." The middle-aged woman spoke with astonishment in her eyes, her smoking stick between her lips.

Only then did Encrid release his hold on the collar. The twin dropped to the ground, coughing.

"Was that a spell?" Encrid asked.

He had been surprised, if only a little. He had enjoyed it, too. Rem had told him about spells on several occasions.

"It was." The middle-aged woman nodded.

She simply stared at him, not even thinking to take another draw. Rem had told her to go knock the arrogance out of him, yet he did not seem particularly arrogant. And he was an astonishing fighter. Was he better than Rem? She could not tell.

Was this a sign of hope? A gift from the sky god? She considered it briefly, but decided not to jump to conclusions. There was no telling whether this man would fight for them or simply leave.

Everyone valued their own life above someone else's, and they had nothing to offer this outsider in payment. They were neither flush with Krona nor possessed of any treasures. Should they offer a person, then? A pretty woman, perhaps?

That would never happen. No Westerner would offer a person as payment. They would die before abandoning their principles. That was their pride.

The tobacco-loving woman did not know it, but they did have something to offer.

"One more round?" Encrid asked, his eyes brimming with anticipation.

What they could offer was sparring partners. The sparring-crazed man's eyes shone.

When he had faced those so-called guardian spirits, the twins had displayed strength he had not anticipated. He was certain he had assessed them correctly, yet they had defied common sense, leaping far beyond their limits. What he could see was not everything. He found that irresistibly intriguing.

The twins nodded. They would not be satisfied yet either.

"We'll do it," one of them said from behind him.

"Suit yourselves." The middle-aged woman nodded.

They sparred again. The pattern was unchanged. The twins kept running away, fighting from a distance.

"Let's go again."

"Another round."

"One more. One more."

"You two can do it."

After every bout, Encrid encouraged the twins. They fought six more times without resting. In the end:

"We can't do any more."

"We'll die at this rate."

Both twins shook their heads. One panted with his tongue hanging out like a dog's. They had used so many spells that they lacked the strength to lift a finger.

The middle-aged woman, the fortune-teller, let the hand holding her smoking stick fall. She was so astonished that she had even forgotten to smoke for a while.

'Rem's brought a crazy bastard here.'

A bastard crazy about fighting, at that. Of course, this was good news.

Half a day? Before the sun had even set, the two finest warriors around her were completely spent. Yet their opponent was perfectly fine. Perhaps sweating a little? And now he was busy chatting excitedly with the Frog he had brought along.

Listening to them, she could hardly believe her ears.

"Spells are fascinating, aren't they?"

"Fascinating, perhaps, but I doubt you were satisfied."

"It was fun. I wonder if there's anyone who fights like Rem?"

"Do you think men like him are common?"

"There could be one more."

"You dream big."

"I always do."

Encrid said it because, as he saw it, his unit had no fewer than three more such men. The fortune-teller could not have known that. No wonder she had found their conversation difficult to follow from midway through.

"Anyway, how long is that smoke going to keep rising? What are you burning?"

As she watched, the Beastman came up beside her and spoke. The woman, the fortune-teller Hira, was also one of the healers of the tribal alliance gathered here. Few knew more about that smoke than she did.

"It's for the dying."

"Who's dying?"

"It's a curse."

It was the work of corrupt shamans, a band of traitors to the West.

"It's a long story. Would you like to see?"

Encrid nodded at Hira's words without giving it much thought. Wielding his sword here did not mean he had lost interest in this unusual nomad city. He could explore more once Rem returned, but surely there was no harm in having someone else show him around.

"I'm intrigued as well." The Frog, ever curious about the unknown, was drawn in too.

"What do they keep burning?" The Beastman, concerned only with her own interests, also agreed.

"The twins' father is there. He used to be the finest warrior of my tent."

"And now?"

"He's ill."

Encrid was curious about this sick man, too. He only intended to see what ailed him.

And so Hira the fortune-teller led the three of them toward the place where the sick were gathered. It was a tent housing those afflicted by the curse.