NoveLight ™
Frokk, Lua Gharne silently watched the man wielding his sword.
The blade came down in a clean arc.
From above to below.
Whoosh.
The sound of the air being cleaved reverberated. The metallic tang teased Frokk’s sensitive nostrils.
Lua Gharne’s talent for discerning potential allowed her to see the essence of the man’s swordsmanship.
It was nothing short of earnest.
And it was nothing short of meticulous.
How could someone dedicate themselves with such unwavering sincerity to every swing, every moment, and every hour of practice?
The man would eat his breakfast, pick up his sword, and train. After setting it aside, he would lift heavy stones, repeating the motion of sitting and standing with them.
When lunch was over, the routine began anew. Even when taking care of personal matters, the sword rarely left his hand.
Sometimes, he practiced dodging thrown rocks. Other times, he sparred frequently.
His opponents? His subordinates, who, without exception, were far superior to him in skill.
"Are they... individuals who have surpassed their limits?"
Frokk’s talent for discerning potential operated on a distinct principle.
Through observation and insight, analyzing posture, attitude, and the speed of improvement, she could grasp the measure of someone.
Simply put, it was an instinct.
An intuition refined through years of experience, honed from witnessing countless individuals who had surpassed their limits.
Having seen so many, Frokk could tell at a glance.
Her instincts now whispered firmly.
"This man cannot become a knight."
The Path to Becoming a Knight
To break down the prerequisites to becoming a knight, the first step was to reach the limits of human capability.
This alone demanded exceptional talent—one in dozens or even hundreds possessed it. Yet, it was merely the beginning.
The next step was to surpass those limits.
For this, one in thousands might succeed.
After surpassing their limits, the final requirement was to grasp Will (Wil).
Here, most faltered. For Will was not something that talent alone could unlock.
It was ironic, Frokk thought. Those overflowing with talent often set their limits far too low, falsely believing their "best" to be the pinnacle.
To summarize succinctly:
"Few truly put in the effort."
When Frokk assessed talent, she looked for two things:
While the first could be discerned at a glance, the second required time to observe.
Still, if someone lacked the first, there was no point in considering the second.
So why did her gaze keep returning to the man endlessly swinging his sword, morning and evening?
Of course, his appearance played a role.
Frokk’s aesthetic sense was unconventional. She cared little for conventional notions of beauty and ugliness.
In that regard, both Enkrid and his comrades passed her subjective standards with flying colors.
"Indeed."
That much was certain.
Enkrid, with his dark hair and striking blue eyes, stood tall and unyielding. Frokk would describe him as a man with a "majestic back."
And what of Rem?
If talent were to be evaluated, his was undeniable. But his personality?
"He’s like a blade without a handle—dangerous, but captivating."
Then there was Jaxon.
With his auburn hair and somber gaze, he reminded her of a poison-laden flower. A deadly allure, beautiful to behold but treacherous to touch.
Audin, on the other hand?
His physical presence and demeanor brought to mind a gentle giant.
"One might even call him Sister Audin," Frokk mused.
The peculiar thing about these individuals was that none of them seemed ordinary.
"How did such a group come together?"
Frokk suspected that a few had brushed against the edges of Will’s understanding, though none had fully grasped it.
Her gaze settled back on Enkrid, tracking every motion.
Even as she pondered all of this, her thoughts circled back to the same point.
Enkrid was extraordinary.
The Unshakable
“Hup.”
With a sharp inhale, Enkrid executed a horizontal cut, his blade slicing through the air in a graceful arc. Beads of sweat scattered into the air like droplets of rain.
It was a textbook technique—a mid-stance rotational slash leveraging his left foot as the pivot.
"Where did he learn this?"
It was evident that his fundamentals were solid.
But more than anything else:
"He doesn’t know how to give up."
Even after only a few days of observation, Frokk could tell. The man’s unwavering consistency was remarkable.
Though countless geniuses achieved leaps in progress in a matter of days, Enkrid’s growth was steady and deliberate.
His determination defied logic.
"For someone to persist without visible progress... it’s astounding."
Frokk, like all her kind, reveled in passion. For her, the unknown—the undiscovered—was a source of ceaseless intrigue.
Now, before her stood a man who embodied that mystery.
“Aren’t you bored just watching?”
The object of her curiosity spoke.
Frokk let out a soft chuckle, her cheeks puffing slightly.
“Are you saying you want to see my weapon?”
“Not so much see it as spar with it,” came the reply.
A man who didn’t know how to quit, who relentlessly pursued his limits.
Frokk had encountered countless humans like this before.
But this one was different.
"This one... is truly remarkable."
Encrid was a man who neither wavered nor despaired.
He accepted what he had and focused solely on what he could do.
How many could truly say the same?
"Perhaps only him."
Among all the individuals Frokk had met, none possessed a will so radiant.
"If the coin of fortune were to land not on heads or tails, but balanced on its edge... perhaps then—just perhaps—this man might grasp Will."
The thought sent a thrill down her spine.
Lua Gharne, Frokk, rose to her feet.
“Shall we play a little?”
Her words carried both challenge and excitement.
While others might believe she stayed because of Ragna, the truth was far from it.
"Ragna is no mystery to me."
The enigma lay solely in the man named Enkrid.
"It’s been so long..."
For the first time in ages, Frokk felt a desire that touched even the deepest parts of her being.
***
The Conditions for Knighthood
Achieving knighthood first required reaching the peak of human limits. Even that required exceptional talent, found in only a fraction of humanity.
Then came the next step: surpassing those limits.
And finally, the ultimate trial—unlocking the power called "Will."
This last requirement often stopped even the most gifted. Will, that mysterious force, was beyond mere effort or talent.
Most prodigies faltered here, their overconfidence often limiting their growth.
Truly diligent individuals were exceedingly rare.
Lua used two main criteria when evaluating potential:
The second was harder to gauge and could only be assessed over time.
And yet, Lua found herself drawn to Enkrid—not because of his exceptional talent but because of his unyielding will.
Every day, Enkrid swung his sword with unwavering focus. He sparred, trained, and endured beatings without complaint. His techniques weren’t revolutionary, but they were solid, refined through countless hours of effort.
Lua thought to herself: How can someone sustain such relentless discipline without visible growth?
Yet she couldn't look away. The enigma of his resolve fascinated her.
“Do you find it boring to simply watch?” Enkrid’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Lua smirked, the corners of her froglike lips curling upward as her cheeks puffed slightly. “Do you want to see my weapon, then?”
“Not just to see it. I’d rather test it.”
The answer was so straightforward that Lua let out a soft, guttural laugh.
The fight began.
Lua wielded a whip—a choice that defied the common expectation of swords among Frokk.
The weapon, longer than a spear by half, coiled like a snake before snapping toward Enkrid with ferocious precision. The whip wrapped around his ankle and pulled him off balance.
He slashed, parried, and dodged. Yet after ten exchanges, his calculated move failed, and he ended up flat on his back.
Why didn’t it work?
A question worth pondering. If the answer came to him, it would become yet another tool in his arsenal to press forward.
“You’re a fascinating human,” Lua Gharne said, breaking the silence.
“What’s your name?” Enkrid finally asked.
“Lua Gharne. You can call me Lua.”
“You can call me Enki.”
It wasn’t a formal exchange, just a simple acknowledgment of names to make the time they’d share less burdensome.
Enkrid rose to his feet. He didn’t have time to rest just because he had fallen.
Training had started at dawn and continued well past midday. There was still plenty of time to move.
“One more round?” he asked as he brushed the dust off his clothes.
Lua chuckled deeply, a guttural sound that made her cheeks puff slightly.
“Why not?”
Enkrid picked up his sword again. They squared off, crossing blades as they tested new approaches. He sought answers—What was Will? How could one approach their limits?
This was his work. His purpose.
For the next few months, Enkrid continued to swing his sword and push his training. Occasionally, he observed sparring matches between Finn and Audin—Ailcarazian martial arts against Balafian techniques. Though the bouts were short and unspectacular, there was always something to learn.
Jaxon continued to frequently leave the camp.
Kraiss, meanwhile, puzzled over a mysterious map he’d somehow obtained, muttering to himself in frustration.
A month after the battle ended, the weather began to shift, growing steadily hotter. Even standing still made sweat bead on their foreheads.
“To celebrate the kingdom’s grand victory, expanding its territory!” a booming voice declared.
A festival broke out—not just a military feast but a city-wide celebration with food and drink overflowing in the streets.
Enkrid, however, still trained.
“You’re such a boring person,” Frokk muttered. To Frokk, celebrating and reveling were life’s greatest joys. Watching someone forgo all that to train instead felt utterly baffling.
Lua Gharne, however, still found herself captivated, watching him from the shadows.
Strangely, watching him swing his sword day after day was more entertaining than the festival.
“Why is this so enjoyable to watch?”
She couldn’t explain it. It was a mystery. And because it was a mystery, it thrilled her.
Three months passed.
***
Sweat now poured freely down their faces, even when standing still.
“This summer feels longer than usual,” Rem muttered, shading his eyes from the relentless sun.
Enkrid ignored the comment, his focus unwavering as he continued to train.
Lua Gharne remained, as did Pin. Neither had returned to their original duties.
Pin, as a ranger, could have been reassigned to another squad long ago.
“Maybe the commander just forgot about me,” she said nonchalantly when asked.
Or perhaps the commander thought she fit in well here and decided to leave her be.
Regardless, it wasn’t something anyone dwelled on.
Enkrid swung his sword again and again.
“Rem, hey Rem.”
By this point, Frokk had grown more accustomed to speaking with the squad members.
“What?” Rem replied gruffly.
“How the hell did you teach him that?”
Frokk let out a low, amused chuckle, her froglike cheeks puffing slightly.
“If you’d seen him before, you’d have been even more shocked.”
Rem grinned at the memory.
Indeed, Frokk was amazed. Despite months of relentless effort, Enkrid’s progress appeared stagnant.
By all logical accounts, someone training as much as Enkrid should have shown noticeable improvement.
Yet here he was, seemingly unchanged.
And that, to Frokk, was astounding in itself.
Effort itself is a talent.
To swing a sword, push one’s body, and strive for improvement required visible results. Without them, most would falter.
“What the hell is going on in his head?”
That question lingered in Frokk’s mind.
Three months of training without apparent progress. At least, that was how it appeared to her.
Enkrid saw things differently.
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