NoveLight ™
“Today, we’re learning the art of evasion,” Jaxon declared.
If Ragna had instructed Enkrid to carry two swords at all times, Jaxon had a different lesson in mind. It was one of the techniques he had mentioned after slaying the giant.
Enkrid trained in both simultaneously.
There was no need to separate the lessons; what Jaxon taught didn’t interfere with other drills. It started with improving visual tracking—throwing small stones inscribed with letters for Enkrid to read mid-flight.
Of course, it wasn’t easy.
But little by little, Enkrid improved, eventually able to discern the etched words on the flying stones.
This progress was thanks to his accumulated experiences—unlocking talents, building faith in himself, and fostering confidence born of achievement.
At that moment, as another stone hurtled toward his forehead:
“Ambush!”
The cry rang out.
Enkrid caught the stone mid-air and read the inscription.
“Enemy attack!”
A sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by:
“Arrows incoming! Heads down!”
Amid the shouts, Jaxon calmly asked, “What does it say?”
This guy is relentless, Enkrid thought, suppressing a groan.
Enkrid was fully equipped, his twin swords at his hips and his leather armor snug on his sweat-soaked frame. The battlefield remained unpredictable, and vigilance was paramount.
“‘Mi,’” Enkrid replied, reading the stone.
“Good,” Jaxon responded with a nod, standing up.
But before either could act, someone dashed ahead, moving faster than anyone else.
“Where are they?”
It was Rem. Eight days of sparring and pummeling Andrew had curbed his frustrations, but he still felt restless.
The Western barbarian moved with a spring in his step, his axe swinging with anticipation.
Who knows? A giant might appear out of nowhere again. Wouldn’t that be fun?
Rem’s movements were swift, his body light. He outran commanders and soldiers alike, with Enkrid following toward the commotion.
The disturbance was at the outskirts of their camp, near the boundary line facing the enemy’s encampment.
When Enkrid arrived, he saw Rem scanning the area, his head swiveling left and right. Enkrid mirrored the search.
There were no visible enemies, just a single soldier lying dead with an arrow lodged in his skull.
“Where’s the enemy?”
Jaxon surveyed the surroundings and answered, “Nowhere in sight.”
Even Jaxon’s trained eyes found no significant traces, indicating that the enemy hadn’t advanced far into their territory.
A long-range attack?
An arrow fired from a great distance had claimed the life of one of their men, but it seemed to have no strategic impact beyond that.
From the dense thicket beyond the camp, movement stirred.
The figures wearing eagle insignias, members of the frontier slayer unit, moved silently into the underbrush.
“Pursue them,” their commander ordered, and the squad slipped into the shadows like ghosts.
“Who are they?” Rem asked, his expression dark with irritation.
“They’re not worth it,” Enkrid replied, hoping to quell Rem’s growing frustration.
“Come on.”
He motioned for Rem to follow, knowing full well that leaving him unchecked could lead to unnecessary chaos.
“Bastards are filthy cowards,” Rem muttered, sparing a glance at the dead soldier.
His gaze wasn’t one of pity but rather cold analysis, focusing on the arrow.
“Damn lunatic brought back for this nonsense…”
It was evident from Rem’s eyes that he recognized the arrow.
“Who is it?” Enkrid asked.
“Don’t remember?”
Enkrid tilted his head. While Rem might recall, Enkrid had experienced different “todays” than his comrades, and the passage of time felt subjective.
“That bastard… the one from Hawk’s Claw or whatever.”
Enkrid looked closer at the arrow—a long shaft with extended fletching. Even without inspecting the blood-stained tip, it was clear this wasn’t a standard arrow.
Rem scratched his chin, visibly frustrated.
He was a hunter at heart, his instincts pushing him to track the traces of his target.
Should I chase or let it go? If I pursue, how long will it take?
Before Rem could act, Enkrid placed a hand on his shoulder.
“How about a sparring match?”
Let it go. There’d be another opportunity to face this enemy, but until then…
“Fine.”
Rem turned back, his irritation momentarily appeased.
Just then, a stone flew past Enkrid’s head.
It whizzed so close it could have brushed his hair, landing a glancing blow on Rem’s forehead.
Another inscribed stone.
“‘Chin,’” Enkrid read, remaining composed despite his initial surprise.
Had he let his guard down, he might have missed it.
“Excellent,” Jaxon said with a nod.
“Damn it, where are you aiming?” Rem growled.
“Oh, didn’t see you there,” Jaxon lied blatantly, his tone dripping with insincerity.
A typical squabble.
“That’s enough,” Enkrid interjected.
While such disputes were common, he had grown better at diffusing them without physical intervention.
“Stand down, Rem.”
He put a little more force into his voice this time, a lesson he had learned when mastering the Beast’s Heart.
Rem, surprisingly, listened.
Even Jaxon complied, needing only a sharp glance from Enkrid to drop the matter.
“Yes, I’ll be more careful,” Jaxon muttered.
With that, they returned to the barracks.
“Something happen?”
Ragna, having just woken up, stretched lazily and approached.
“Enemy ambush. They fired an arrow and fled.”
“I see.”
Does this guy even care? Enkrid wondered, sighing internally.
He resumed training, alternating between sparring, evasion drills, and honing his techniques.
The Balraf Acupressure Method helped him loosen up afterward, and he continued refining the Isolation Technique.
Most importantly, he never let go of his two swords.
“Your posture. Never let it falter,” Audin advised during one session. “Everything starts with posture. If your stance collapses, you’ll get hurt. You wouldn’t want to be known as the injured captain, would you?”
Was that a veiled threat?
Training with two swords while maintaining the Isolation Technique was grueling, but it wasn’t impossible.
And that was all that mattered to Enkrid.
By dusk, just as the sun dipped westward:
“Ambush! Damn it!”
Another enemy arrow struck.
Though their garrison responded promptly, they failed to catch the assailant again.
It was the same tactic—one deadly arrow, fired from an unusually long-range weapon, before retreating into the wilderness.
The frustration was palpable.
“This isn’t good,” Kraiss muttered.
Enkrid ignored him. Chasing down a long-range archer with a specialized bow was no easy task, and Enkrid lacked the energy to focus on anything beyond his training.
He read another stone, the fifth one that day.
“‘Mad Barbarian.’”
Jaxon offered a weak excuse. “I wrote that before I promised to be careful.”
Enkrid didn’t bother responding, choosing instead to placate Rem, who was now brandishing his axe ominously.
“Hold it.”
Days passed in a similar rhythm: training, occasional ambushes, and murmurs of discontent from Kraiss.
Enkrid, however, focused solely on improving his skills.
“Evasion isn’t just dodging,” Jaxon explained during another drill. “It’s about predicting movements and coordinating your body to react instinctively. The goal is to see, move, and evade as one seamless action.”
What am I dodging, exactly? Enkrid wondered as Jaxon unsheathed his blade.
Shing.
The sunlight gleamed off Jaxon’s sword as he turned to Enkrid and asked, “Are you really going to fight with two swords?”
It was hard to tell if the question was born from concern or a veiled warning. Perhaps it was both.
“Yeah, I am.”
Jaxon knew Enkrid had a remarkable ability to endure whatever came his way. Recognizing this, Jaxon nodded internally and decided to share one of his prized techniques.
“If you can’t dodge, you’ll die,” Jaxon said flatly, his voice carrying a mix of caution and challenge.
The sharp zing of the sword splitting the air followed his words.
Despite activating One Point Focus to enhance his perception, Enkrid couldn’t react fast enough.
Tick.
The sword tip stopped just short of his forehead.
“Next time, it’ll kill you for real,” Jaxon added, his tone calm but pointed.
Enkrid stood frozen, stunned by what he had just experienced. This wasn’t just speed—it was something beyond that.
The strike was like a pinpointed thrust, almost impossible to read or anticipate.
Enkrid had faced a variety of attacks before:
But Jaxon’s thrust was unlike anything he had encountered.
It felt almost magical, as though space itself had folded to deliver the blade’s edge.
“Again,” Enkrid said, his eyes blazing with excitement. He was always ready to absorb new lessons.
“If you can’t dodge, it’ll be your last,” Jaxon repeated, issuing another warning.
Despite his words, Jaxon never dealt a fatal blow.
For days, Enkrid trained relentlessly, unfazed by the chaotic environment around him:
He focused solely on improving his reaction time and body coordination.
“See and react. That’s all there is to it,” Jaxon would say.
Simple in theory, but incredibly difficult in practice.
Enkrid slowly began to see improvement, though it felt like crawling rather than walking. Yet even small progress filled him with excitement.
“You’re improving,” Jaxon remarked one day. He wasn’t stingy with praise, which stood in stark contrast to the other instructors.
Jaxon’s lessons, though brutal, were straightforward: consistent effort and a willingness to risk just enough to keep going.
Jaxon, however, couldn’t help but feel a nagging sense of confusion.
‘Why am I doing this?’ he wondered as he guided Enkrid.
His actions felt instinctual, lacking the clear reasoning that typically governed his behavior. Growing up, he had been taught to justify every move, but now he found himself acting purely on impulse.
‘For now, I’ll just keep going.’
Despite his internal conflict, Jaxon felt an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction watching Enkrid train.
This was a new sensation for him.
Jaxon had spent his life taking lives, verifying kills, and gathering information. None of those experiences had ever stirred emotion within him.
Yet here he was, feeling an inexplicable joy as he pushed Enkrid toward mastery.
A faint smile played on Jaxon’s lips as he thrust his sword again.
While Jaxon was lost in thought, others in the squad weren’t as enthusiastic.
“Damn it, that bastard’s going to kill someone at this rate,” Rem muttered, his irritation barely contained.
“This is getting excessive. Isn’t it my turn yet?” Ragna grumbled, voicing his frustration.
Even Audin chimed in, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a long-winded monologue:
“Balance is key, dear brothers. Too much of anything will tilt the scales, and as the Lord teaches us, a lopsided scale leads to ruin…”
Their complaints painted a clear picture: none of them were particularly thrilled about Jaxon’s intense drills.
Meanwhile, Kraiss stood at a distance, observing the situation with growing unease.
‘This isn’t good,’ he thought.
The squad was preoccupied with their training, but the larger picture—the state of the entire company—was deteriorating.
The commanders and frontier guards seemed paralyzed, unable to take decisive action.
‘How long are they going to stand around doing nothing?’
Kraiss saw a potential way forward, a means to break the stalemate, but no one seemed willing to act.
Finally, unable to keep quiet any longer, he approached Enkrid.
“Captain,” he began hesitantly.
Enkrid, drenched in sweat, turned to him. “What is it?”
Kraiss steeled himself and spoke up. “Don’t you think it’s time to propose a plan to the higher-ups?”
Enkrid tilted his head, clearly not following.
“If we keep sitting here, nothing good is going to come of it…” Kraiss began explaining, laying out the squad’s strengths and how they could be used to their advantage.
“...So, as long as we can coordinate properly, I think it’ll work.”
Enkrid listened attentively, nodding as Kraiss finished.
“Alright,” he said simply.
Surprised by the quick agreement, Kraiss blinked a few times before grinning. “Great!”
Enkrid nodded again, unfazed. To him, it wasn’t a difficult decision.
After all, the final call would rest with the higher-ups.
And if this plan gave him the chance to test his growing skills in the field, so much the better.