Encrid was hit in the side by a quarrel on the eighth day.
The quarrel pierced through the ribs and tore into his internal organs.
‘This is unexpected.’
It happened right after he dodged all the whistling knives and kicked Rotten, who was attacking from behind.
In a brief moment, the quarrel suddenly flew in. It was impossible to avoid.
‘Such thorough preparation.’
Pulling out the quarrel would likely cause a more fatal injury.
As he lifted his head, he saw the ugly face of a half-blood fairy right in front of him.
Are all half-bloods that ugly?
He didn’t know.It was the first time he had ever encountered a half-blood.
He knew they generally weren’t well treated.
“You’re very perceptive. Aren’t you?”
The half-blood fairy spoke from above. He was someone who really enjoyed talking.
“Pretty much, yeah. Hoo.”
Encrid spoke as he calmed his breathing.
He memorized the half-blood fairy’s position and distance in his mind to make his final desperate move.
Ting.
In an instant, he drew a broad-bladed dagger and thrust it upward.
The so-called guard sword nicked the half-blood fairy’s cheek.
The fairy, dodging by tilting his head to the side, kicked Encrid in the stomach.
Thud.
“Ugh.”
Instead of a scream, a groan escaped. The arrowhead lodged in his intestines stirred inside him. It was unbearably painful.
It had been painful since he started moving, but getting hit made the excruciating pain turn his vision white.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
It didn’t take long for death to come. The fairy’s hand was clean and sharp.
Encrid closed his eyes as his neck was severed.
When he faced today again, the fairy, Rotten, Jack, and Bo attacked all at once.
Even as his hands fumbled and he was dying, Encrid killed Jack and Bo and took one of the half-blood fairy’s arms.
The final blow was to his heart again.
The half-blood fairy stabbed his heart with a stiletto hidden at his waist.
After spending nine of these days, the tenth morning dawned.
After finishing his exercises with Audin, he met with Jaxon. It was a repetitive routine.
Because he couldn’t afford to waste a single day, Encrid put in his full effort today as well.
“Could you check my stance?”
It didn’t matter whether it was an equivalent exchange or anything else, so Encrid demonstrated how to throw a dagger to mess with Jaxon.
His proficiency was entirely different from when he first learned it.
It was a skill he had ingrained in his body by clinging to the edge of his talent.
It was indeed different from before.
Encrid activated Focus Point, relaxed his body, and then used his entire body’s muscles as if they were spring-loaded for a moment.
His hand sliced through the air, and the dagger in his hand flew with a swoosh.
It wasn’t as fast as light, but it was several times faster than before.
“Your arms and hands are the launch pad, using the elasticity of your entire body. Up to this point, you understand well. Do you see anything lacking?”
Gape.
Encrid saw Jaxon open his mouth wide for the first time in his life.
Wasn’t he always the squad member who used calm eyes and a steady tone?
He was a friend with little emotional change and expression.
The open mouth expressing astonishment quickly closed. Although his eyes still wavered, his expression returned to its usual state.
The mouth was open for barely a second.
“Jaxon?”
“Where did you learn this?”
“There was a guy on the battlefield who threw daggers spectacularly.”
“Threw daggers?”
“I learned by watching.”
“Learned by watching?”
He was busy repeating the words, almost like a parrot. It was indeed surprising because this type of skill couldn’t be mastered through simple training.
It was different from honing basic skills.
It was nonsense to learn it without having a natural sense.
Jaxon knew this well.
That’s why he was surprised.
But the Squad Leader?
His skills had indeed improved significantly lately, but this was something else entirely.
Jaxon, who had been staring at Encrid nodding his head, finally spoke.
“That’s good enough. It’s not a skill to delve into too deeply. However, the weapon you’re holding now has weight, so it’s better to imbue your fingertips with heaviness rather than lightness.”
Jaxon chose his words carefully.
Encrid nodded.
“It’s called the Tangum technique.”
Then Jaxon suddenly spoke.
Even if it wasn’t an equivalent exchange, Jaxon wasn’t the type to withhold teaching.
Encrid straightened his posture.
It was a stance he had ingrained in his body and a listening attitude he had learned by watching Krang.
There’s a way to give your best even when listening.
Seeing this, Jaxon felt pleased.
Who else would listen so earnestly to mere throwing techniques?
Had Encrid not shown this attitude regularly, he might have ignored and disregarded the Squad Leader long ago.
“A long time ago, there was an unparalleled assassin named Geor who established the basic framework for this technique. There’s a theory that he was inspired by Leonesis’s compilation of five sword techniques, but we don’t know for sure.”
It was a technique with history. Encrid’s concentration intensified.
Ragna explained and simultaneously indicated the path forward.
Listening intently, Encrid’s eyes sparkled with seriousness.
Though it was called the Tangum technique, it wasn’t just about throwing swords.
It encompassed handling all throwing weapons.
In the midst of this, unsolicited, the topic of whistling knives came up.
“There’s a throwing dagger called a Whistle Knife. If you encounter one, avoid it. They are difficult to deal with. The reason the Tangum technique includes the ‘sword’ character is because of the Whistle Knife.”
Additional explanations followed.
Whistling knives were originally made by layering thin blades together.
Geor’s ultimate pursuit was to use just one single-layered knife.
Throwing just one blade wouldn’t even produce a sound, hence it wouldn’t be called a whistling knife anymore.
‘How many layers was it?’
Encrid reflexively recalled the dagger thrown by the half-blood fairy.
He remembered when it got stuck in his forearm. The dagger embedded in his arm had three layers.
“Hey, isn’t it your shift today?”
Bo had come up to Encrid in front of the quarters.
He had been so absorbed that he didn’t realize his shift time was approaching.
“Oh, I forgot. Let’s go. It’s the same shift as today, right?”
“Yes, it’s with me.”
“I know. Part of the scouting team.”
Encrid responded casually to Bo and then spoke to Jaxon.
“Learned a lot.”
“Is that so?”
Jaxon had never thought of himself as talkative, but he had to admit that he became unusually verbose in front of the Squad Leader.
He only said what was necessary, but it was still a lot.
‘Did I go too far with the whistling knife?’
Why did that topic come up?
Thinking about it again, it made sense. It was a relevant topic.
It was because of the stance Encrid had shown.
‘The throwing technique was similar.’
Geor’s Tangum technique isn’t a rigidly defined throwing method, but it does have a basic framework.
The stance the Squad Leader showed earlier reminded Jaxon exactly of the whistling knife. It was a clean stance, as if someone had guided him.
Although Jaxon couldn’t possibly know, the one who had helped Encrid perfect his stance was none other than him.
* * *
“Let’s go this way.”
Encrid arbitrarily changed the patrol route.
“What? We’re supposed to patrol the market. We’ll get disciplined for this,” Jack protested.
“I’ll take responsibility.”
He was the Squad Leader, recently promoted to high ranking soldier, and a talent desired by both the 1st Company and the Border Guard.
At thirty years old, he was a late-blooming rookie who had just started to get noticed.
That was Encrid.
There was nothing the two soldiers in the scouting team could do to rebel.
“I said I’ll take responsibility. We should take it easy on duty sometimes. Let’s go.”
Encrid took the lead. He acted as if it was only natural for the others to follow.
“Leaving the patrol route is grounds for discipline.” Bo muttered, looking at Jack.
Jack’s hands moved busily.
‘What should we do?’
‘I don’t know.’
Bo shook his head.
Encrid felt like he could hear their conversation even without looking.
Deliberating wouldn’t yield an answer. There are things in the world you just can’t avoid. When your superior gives an order, you follow it.
And right now, he was both the superior and the senior.
The assassin had prepared the place, time, and people.
Was it necessary to follow it exactly?
‘Change the location.’
The opponent was an assassin, there was no need to enter the stage he had prepared.
This was the conclusion Encrid had reached after much thought.
He moved at his own discretion, strolling around the outer area of the castle gate. He didn’t even go near the downtown area with its buildings.
Jack and Bo were troubled.
They tried to persuade him to head towards the market, but Encrid was immovable.
After walking for about half an hour, Encrid suddenly stopped.
“Huh? Why did you stop?”
Encrid watched as the two walked two steps past him, then stopped and turned back.
They had finally given up on heading towards the market, leaving coded messages here and there along the way.
So now it was time.
Encrid, staring at them, asked,
“Why did you do it?”
Blank stares.
Jack and Bo looked at Encrid, then at each other.
What the hell is he talking about?
How should I know?
“What?”
Bo asked on behalf of both of them.
“Why did you do it?”
“What are you talking about? Speak clearly so we can understand.” Jack said gruffly.
“I’ve thought about it several times but I can’t figure out the reason. What changes by being a spy as just a regular soldier? Krona? Money?”
At these suddenly thrown words, Jack and Bo recoiled.
Then, looking awkwardly at each other, Bo scratched the back of his head and spoke up.
“What are you talking about?”
“What the hell, are you suddenly accusing us of being spies?”
Jack also burst out angrily.
“Don’t you think it’s a pathetic excuse to say that while stepping back and putting your hand on your sword hilt?”
At Encrid’s words, they looked at each other again. And then.
Cha-chang!
Both drew their swords.
Bo with a stiletto-like thin blade.
Jack with a relatively thicker short sword.
Encrid stood still.
“Damn, he’s really perceptive.”
“We’ll have to kill you here.”
The plan had gone awry, but the task at hand was clear. Jack and Bo exchanged glances and nodded.
As they hesitated, Encrid also drew his sword.
Ching!
The sharpened longsword reflected the sunlight as it was drawn. Then, with the sword still drawn, he took a large step forward and swung the sword in a wide arc.
As he swung it wide, Jack and Bo gauged the distance and dodged.
But they didn’t stop there.
Because Encrid had swung his sword broadly, there were many openings. Bo took advantage of one of these openings and charged.
He was a soldier with excellent physical skills even in normal circumstances.
He pushed off with his back foot and charged forward. Encrid was just in the middle of shifting his weight to the right as he grabbed the sword with both hands and swung.
At the moment Bo reached the distance where his short sword could touch.
Thud!
A blade suddenly emerged from under Encrid’s left armpit.
The blade pierced Bo’s neck.
It was the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, the Shadow Thrust.
It started by pretending to swing broadly and drawing the enemy in.
Then, supporting the longsword with only his left hand and hiding his right hand with his body, he drew a dagger from his right waist and thrust it through the gap under his armpit.
The enemy would never have expected a blade to emerge from there.
Bo had narrowed the distance too much, trusting his reflexes. Encrid had predicted Bo’s response.
A nimble fighter wouldn’t miss the chance to close the gap.
Just because he had built his foundation on the Northern Heavy Sword Technique didn’t mean he had to forget what he had previously learned.
It was a realization from his last moments on the battlefield with Aspen and the battle with the mustached soldier.
Basics are just basics. Adding and subtracting are up to the user.
One could swing a heavy sword smoothly or go for a counter.
He could mix in the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique as well.
As long as the foundation wasn’t shaken, it was fine.
With a gurgle, Bo collapsed to the ground. Blood poured from the wound in his neck, soaking the ground.
“Damn, that was filthy.”
Jack’s face turned pale at the sight.
He had no confidence to flee, nor to fight.
So what could he do?
“Why did you do it?”
“What does it matter to you, damn it?”
Jack remained consistent, and since Encrid hadn’t prepared a merciful blade for his opponent, their confrontation was brief.
A short, downward strike with the longsword.
Jack dodged rather than blocking.
Predicting this, Encrid, who had swung as if to strike down, instead swung his sword horizontally.
Slash! Splat!
The well-sharpened blade created a hole in Jack’s side where there shouldn’t have been one.
“Huff, damn it.”
That was Jack’s last moment. Instead of a final cry, he collapsed with a curse.
Encrid paused and waited at the spot.
He planted his sword into the ground and caught his breath for a long time.
Only then did the others arrive. A quarrel flew with a whoosh from behind.
As Encrid tilted his head to dodge, he saw one masked figure, a hesitant Rotten next to him, and finally, an assassin dressed in rags.
Encrid, still holding his sword in the ground, asked,
“You’re all coming at once, aren’t you?”
It seemed futile to suggest a one-on-one fight.
And it was.
The man with the quarrel aimed at him again. Encrid took a short breath.
He relaxed his entire body. Leaving his sword planted in the ground, he let his arms hang loose.
His hanging hand swung like a pendulum.
Then his right hand snapped up like a whip, and he flung the dagger he held.
Swish!
The Tangum technique utilizing full-body elasticity.
The flying blade embedded itself in the forehead of the masked crossbowman.
It was indeed like a ray of light.
The half-blood fairy’s shoulders flinched and trembled for a moment upon seeing this.
“Interesting.”
He muttered shortly after.
It was exactly what Encrid himself wanted to say.
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