“You’ll need to do that about ten more times.”

Rem spoke nonchalantly, his tone casual, but Enkrid caught the lingering hint of unresolved irritation.

Enkrid gave him a long look before replying.

“If you do that, you’ll touch the wall. And once you touch it, you’ll climb over it.”

It was clear Rem’s annoyance hadn’t dissipated. Enkrid, while noticing this, was too preoccupied with replaying what had just happened in his mind.

One exchange of offense and defense.

The lessons drawn from it were abundant, something Enkrid realized instinctively.

“Well done,” Enkrid said, turning away. He wanted to reflect, to analyze. That single sparring match, that brief moment of exchanging blows—what had been encapsulated within it?

“Brother, you got hit, huh?” Audin teased Rem from behind.

“Want to have lunch with the lord, you hulking madman?” Rem shot back, their voices devolving into playful bickering.

Enkrid ignored them. These days, even when they fought, it ended amicably. Though they weren’t exactly friends, they had learned to maintain boundaries.

“How did I cut him?”

He had left a scratch on Rem’s cheek.

The fact itself was surprising, but more than that, he was captivated by the process.

This wasn’t his first experience analyzing and reflecting on such moments; he had developed a habit of thoroughly examining these instances.

It was like a frog trapped in a well, leaping up to catch a glimpse of the world outside.

What could be gained from such an experience?

Once a frog has leaped high enough to see the outside, it knows it can leap again.

Beyond the well, Enkrid longed to greet a new world.

Even though their mission departure was two days away, his relentless training continued as if nothing had changed.

When not immersed in basic training, Enkrid pondered endlessly. His adherence to the adage “You see as much as you know” made him acutely aware of his shortcomings.

The Core of Balanced Renewal.

The foundation of his techniques lay in the northern-style Heavy Swordsmanship.

Was this enough?

Every time he practiced, the thought arose: the desire to master other weapons.

A knight, after all, was said to be skilled in wielding ten types of weapons.

But could he achieve such mastery?

To truly master one weapon and, through it, understand many others—that required talent.

And talent, for him, was in short supply.

So then, what was the alternative?

“If I can’t master one to learn the others...”

He would learn them all, one by one.

The answer was clear.

Repeating the same things daily might suffice, but if there was a way to move forward—not crawling but walking—then he had to take it.

“I’ll do it,” he muttered, his resolve escaping his lips.

It was the obvious choice.

He became so engrossed in training and reflection that he lost track of time. Even during meals, part of his mind was busy analyzing and replaying his sparring sessions.

From the moment he left a scratch on Rem’s cheek, Enkrid wasn’t satisfied—he was hungry for more.

His thoughts were consumed by the path forward.

Late at night, as others settled into their routines, Enkrid rose from his bed.

The small dormitory grew still as every gaze turned toward him.

He stopped in front of Frokk and Lua Gharne’s bunks.

Frokk, lying down and preparing to sleep, tilted his eyes upward to meet Enkrid’s gaze.

“Do you know how to use precise swordsmanship?” Enkrid asked.

Tomorrow was the day of departure.

The lamplight cast long shadows behind him. Everyone had already washed up, and Finn had just returned with wet hair dripping water onto the floor.

At Enkrid’s spot, Esther had been grooming her claws but now paused to lift her head. The leopard’s deep blue eyes locked onto Enkrid’s back.

“Of course, it’s my specialty,” Lua Gharne replied lazily from her bed.

“Teach me,” Enkrid said, his voice filled with earnestness.

He didn’t wait for instruction to come to him; he sought it out. To him, Frokk was an excellent teacher.

Beyond wielding a whip, Frokk was skilled in other weapons as well—precise swordsmanship included.

Through occasional guidance and sparring sessions, Enkrid had learned much from him. But watching and mimicking were no longer enough. He needed structured teaching, something fundamentally different.

While Ragna’s northern-style Heavy Swordsmanship was excellent, and the techniques he shared were not bad, even Ragna admitted, “I’m just copying what I’ve seen.”

Enkrid felt it wasn’t enough to rely on genius methods.

What he felt now was thirst.

There was something Frokk possessed that the other squad members could not teach him.

Rem? His fighting style wasn’t a refined method but rather an instinctive, visceral form of axe-wielding.

Reflecting on the moment he left a scratch on Rem’s cheek, Enkrid recalled the ghostly apparition he had seen then.

Was that the essence of Rem? Or a figment of his imagination, shaped by his mind and eyes?

He didn’t know.

But if he had one wish...

“To see it again.”

He wanted to push Rem into that situation once more.

That was his desire.

It wasn’t about immediately breaking limits or grasping the concept of Will.

Enkrid wasn’t in a rush.

His years of hardship and perseverance, built on fragments of shattered dreams, had taught him one thing:

One step at a time. Crawl forward if necessary.

Even if the steps were slow, moving forward allowed him to see, feel, and reach.

With that single step forward, Enkrid resolved to set a small goal: to witness the “essence,” whether it be a ghost or something else, in the faces of Rem, Audin, Ragna, and Jaxon.

“Fine,” Lua Gharne said without hesitation, nodding.

Enkrid bowed deeply before returning to his bed.

Tomorrow, as promised, they would head to the frontier village to fulfill their mission.

A journey awaited.

To face it with lingering fatigue would be unwise. He needed rest.

“You know,” Rem muttered from his bed, “when someone’s too stoic, they start looking downright insane.”

Enkrid didn’t reply. If he engaged, they would end up talking for far too long.

Fortunately, Rem kept quiet after that. It was just a fleeting remark.

“Brother,” Audin said, a hint of humor in his voice, “may the Lord’s blessings be upon you. And please, keep that mind of yours intact.”

Whether it was meant as a prayer or a jab, the sentiment stood. No one else spoke.

The night passed.

The next day arrived.

Enkrid, composed as always, set out.

The group left the city. Behind him were Lua Gharne and Kraiss. Ahead was Finn, leading the way.

In his arms, Esther clung tightly. Even when he tried to push her off, she dug her claws into his chest, refusing to let go.

What choice did he have but to bring her along?

“Let’s move,” he said.

Following Finn’s lead, the party traveled along the main road until they encountered ghouls.

“Already?” Kraiss muttered.

It was an early encounter, especially this close to the city—unusually near for monsters.

But that wasn’t the real problem.

Two ghouls stood before them, their gray skin a telltale sign of their kind. They were monsters that craved human flesh and blood.

Enkrid drew his sword.

What followed was as unremarkable as his first step that morning.

Slash. Splatter.

The Heavy Swordsmanship style emphasized raw strength.

With a single swing, he cleaved through a ghoul’s neck and split its head.

Black blood and gray brain matter splattered across the ground.

A few drops of the ghoul’s blood landed on Enkrid.

“The foundation of precise swordsmanship is patience,” Lua Gharne said from behind.

The road ahead was not just a journey—it was a path of discipline and continuous training.

Thus began the first lesson.

***

As Rem absently rubbed the scab forming on his cheek, his thoughts drifted back to the day he first met Enkrid—or rather, the day he first decided to toy with him.

“Sparring? With me?” Rem had asked, incredulous.

What kind of guy was this?

The new squad leader, fresh on the scene, swung his sword with a desperate fervor every single day. And now, he wanted to spar?

One look was enough to size him up—third-rate at best. Maybe, in some respects, he could qualify as second-rate.

By soldiering standards, he hovered somewhere between low and mid-tier.

What a hopelessly untalented human being.

“I thought I could learn something,” Enkrid had replied.

When they first met, what weapon had Enkrid been using? Rem couldn’t recall exactly—he had a tendency to use whatever was at hand—but that day, it had been swords. Two of them, wielded clumsily in both hands.

It was clear from the start that this wasn’t going to be a challenge.

Thud.

Enkrid tripped over Rem’s foot and went sprawling to the ground, rolling awkwardly.

The fall left a fresh cut on his face, a mark that wasn’t entirely accidental on Rem’s part.

“What’s this pretty boy doing as a squad leader?”

He’d deliberately aimed to mess up that delicate face, curious about how the guy would react.

Was he a noble? Someone’s illegitimate child? Did he have connections in the military?

None of those assumptions turned out to be true.

Instead of tending to his fresh wound, Enkrid had simply stood up and asked, “Can we go again?”

“Again?” Rem asked, eyebrows raised.

Enkrid nodded.

What is with this guy?

To be honest, Rem had never encountered anyone as reckless as Enkrid.

He’d beaten him, slashed at him, and even left deliberate cuts on his neck. Once, he’d slashed Enkrid’s forehead just to watch the blood trickle down over his eyes—a unique kind of fear that only those who’d experienced it could understand.

Even then, the new squad leader didn’t back down.

His face smeared with blood, making him look like a ghoul, Enkrid had simply kept coming.

“I’m curious—what if you die doing this?” Rem had asked during one of their spars.

Enkrid, panting as he caught his breath, had replied, “Then that’s the end of it.”

Is he insane?

The end? That’s it?

How could he be so flippant about his own death?

“You’re in bad shape,” Rem had muttered, and that day, he decided to teach Enkrid The Beast’s Heart. If someone was willing to risk death, perhaps they could gain something from it.

But it was futile.

Enkrid lacked the instincts to master the technique. He flinched at critical moments, his body froze when faced with real danger, and his courage faltered.

“Truly talentless,” Rem had said, the words escaping him almost involuntarily.

Yet, despite everything, Enkrid never gave up. He survived—stubbornly, persistently.

Was sparring with him enjoyable? Not particularly.

Enkrid wasn’t some monumental figure in Rem’s life. He wasn’t someone Rem admired or held in high regard.

But there was something oddly satisfying about watching him.

Like a bright sunlit day, a dry grassland, or an animal sprinting across an open plain—it was simply pleasant to observe.

“He’s going to die like this.”

Seeing Enkrid fight so recklessly on the battlefield, Rem often found himself stepping in to lend a hand. At the very least, he didn’t want to see him die right in front of his eyes.

Over time, the spars continued. Time passed.

“How did you do that?” Rem had asked the day Enkrid finally used The Beast’s Heart.

Since then, something had changed.

Enkrid’s skills had started to improve. Sometimes, the progress was visible and striking. Other times, it was agonizingly slow, almost imperceptible.

Had Enkrid himself changed?

No. He remained exactly the same.

“Another spar?” Enkrid’s words grew fewer over time, but Rem had become keenly aware of just how easily his words could infuriate others.

Yet the sparring sessions continued.

Rem rubbed at the scab on his cheek.

A scab? On him? Left by Enkrid? That squad leader?

For the first time, Rem had been forced to show his seriousness, almost pulling out techniques he had kept hidden.

But no, not yet.

There was something about Enkrid that made Rem want to keep playing with him for a little while longer.

If he were to be caught up to, if their spars became evenly matched—where would the fun be in that?

To keep toying with him, to keep the game going, he couldn’t let himself fall behind. Not even for a moment.

That scratch on his cheek, that split second where Enkrid had caught up—it didn’t sit well with Rem. It made him uneasy, even nervous.

Kraiss’s question during a battlefield debriefing still lingered in his mind.

“Can you handle a knight-in-training?”

“If they come at me, I can kill them.”

The statement was delivered with utter seriousness, and it demanded a serious response.

There was something peculiar about this wide-eyed guy. Even Rem couldn’t deny the strange force emanating from him.

An odd one.

Yet, this oddity knew how to think strategically. He nodded, signaling that he understood—even from such a curt explanation.

Killing was possible, but only if you didn’t think about the consequences. If one gambled their life, the odds might be fifty-fifty.

If Rem were to be completely honest, his chances of winning against a knight-in-training would probably fall somewhere between 30% and 40%.

That question lingered with Kraiss after their conversation. The squad leader seemed to decide then and there to avoid engaging directly with enemy forces.

The battlefield unfolded as it did, and Kraiss’s judgment turned out to be correct. That didn’t stop Rem from feeling a strange blow to his pride.

“You lazy, picky eater.”

This was why Rem didn’t follow the others. He had other things to tend to.

And that idiot? Rem figured the guy must be somewhat similar to himself.

At Rem’s remark, Ragna lifted his head lazily, leaning halfway against the barracks wall.

“Wanna bet half a life and go at it?”

His tone was playful as usual, but there was an undertone of seriousness to it.

“...Let’s do it,” Ragna replied, rising to his feet. The lethargy faded from his expression, and in its place, there was a flicker of something—something like fire.

Rem, his usual smirk absent, headed toward the training grounds.

“Hey, big guy, you coming too?” he called to Audin as he passed.

“Haha, if the Lord calls, I must answer,” Audin replied with a grin, standing to join them.

The sly stray cat, however, was left alone.

That one wasn’t suited for direct combat anyway.

“If necessary, he’ll come.”

But that bastard wouldn’t come just because someone called him. He wasn’t the type.

And besides, Rem knew better. That one was a truly cunning creature.

Rem was a hunter, after all, and he could tell. That guy was either a relentless nocturnal predator or a manhunter disguised as one.

At one corner of the training grounds, Rem gripped his axes.

Ping. He clashed the two axe blades together as he settled into his stance.

“If you die, don’t hold it against me,” said Ragna, standing opposite him.

“Funny words coming from you,” Rem retorted.

They began to move, their feet shuffling with precision.

Around them, the soldiers who had been training stopped what they were doing and gathered to watch.

Clang! Thud! Crack!

The sound of their weapons clashing reverberated through the air. It was a brutal, heavy sparring match.

Taking turns, the trio—Rem, Ragna, and Audin—traded blows. Their ferocity left the onlookers slack-jawed, their breaths caught in their throats.

“I want in,” came a voice from the crowd.

It was the fairy captain.

“This is a fight where you gamble half your life,” Rem pointed out.

The captain responded with a grin, unsheathing her sword. The blade, shaped like a leaf, caught the light and reflected it brilliantly.

It was a clear declaration of intent.

Her skills, too, proved to be on par with the rest. As they sparred together, the camaraderie between them became evident, even without words.

Through the exchange of blades and fists, something was revealed—something only those who fought together could understand.

“Not yet.”

Not yet. Rem couldn’t let himself fall behind, not to the point where Enkrid might surpass him. It was a feeling reminiscent of a mischievous child clinging to a position of superiority.

But they all agreed, in their own way, to dedicate themselves fully to the present.

Fighting with half their lives on the line wasn’t just a way to train—it was the beginning of transformation, a way to accelerate growth.

The four of them—all once called geniuses—were sharpening their skills.

But it didn’t end with mere refinement.

Rem pushed Ragna, Ragna pushed Rem, and Audin inserted himself into the fray. Occasionally, even Jaxon would jump in unannounced.

The fairy captain took turns joining their matches.

Whenever things became too intense, the others would step in to balance the tension, defusing the situation and restoring equilibrium.

As their talents blossomed, the days passed. They found themselves accumulating more and more to show the returning Enkrid.

***

In the meantime, Enkrid was navigating a journey that turned out to be far rougher than he had anticipated.

“Kaaahhh!”

Monsters surged forth in relentless waves.

Well, in a way, it was enjoyable.

For Enkrid, this was both an opportunity to train and a proving ground to test his skills.