Catching the incoming arrow could be considered a stunt.
It would be a feat even if you knew it was coming, but this time, it came suddenly and from behind.
Not only did he sense it, but he didn't dodge—he caught it.
It was a result of the harmony between his sense of skill and focus.
"...Wow."
"W-What is this!"
Two of the trainees' mouths dropped open.
The remaining three were speechless.
They had every reason to be astonished.
One was in awe of catching the arrow, and the other was shocked that the arrow had suddenly flown at them.
Encrid looked toward the top of the outer wall.
There was a figure, face covered, standing there, not even bothering to conceal their presence.
The narrow width of the wall didn't seem to bother them as they stood with perfect balance. It was proof of their excellent sense of equilibrium.
Their clothing was ordinary—a loose shirt and pants that reached down to the ankles.
Perhaps they weren't wearing black because it wasn't nighttime.
But they did have a mask on.
Encrid tilted his head slightly, puzzled. The figure didn't take any further action after throwing the arrow, almost as if waiting for a response.
"Now then..."
Just as the figure opened their mouth, Encrid immediately threw the arrow he had caught. With a sharp 'ping', the arrow flew back toward the figure.
It was the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique—'Strike While Speaking'.
Ping!
The arrow, thrown using an adapted technique, shot towards the figure, who swiftly dodged to the side, moving horizontally.
'Their body is light.'
Even as he thought this, Encrid's hands moved on their own.
He had thrown the arrow as bait, and now, he threw another dagger.
Whistle!
It was a Whistle Dagger, incredibly rare and hard to come by, but he used one now.
With a sharp sound, the Whistle Dagger flew at terrifying speed, forcing the figure on the wall to retreat and tumble backward.
Encrid's right foot pressed against the ground. He bent his knee, gaining momentum. While this description breaks it down, of course, everything happened in an instant.
Boom!
Encrid shot forward, creating a crater in the dirt training ground as he launched himself.
In proportion to the hole left in the ground, his body flew forward at terrifying speed.
To the trainees, even his afterimage barely registered.
"That lunatic!"
A voice came from beyond the wall, but Encrid ignored it as he jumped toward the top of the wall.
Though not fully armed, he still carried three swords.
The five trainees, who had been watching in stunned silence, now gaped even wider.
Despite wearing leather armor and carrying three swords, he jumped lightly onto the wall as if it were effortless. It almost seemed like a cheat.
Some sort of mysticism, trickery, magic, or something similar.
Encrid hooked his fingertips over the edge of the wall and pulled himself up with ease.
How is he doing that?
Is it magic?
The trainees' heads were filled with confusion.
Around this time, Esther, who had woken up, watched with sleepy eyes.
Of course, there was no magic involved.
It was just sheer physical prowess, throwing all limits to the wind.
Encrid lifted himself up smoothly, and in the meantime, two figures waiting behind the wall drew short swords.
They jumped, swinging their blades toward Encrid's wrist.
Just as Encrid had lifted himself halfway up the wall, he let go with his left hand.
Whoosh, whoosh.
The two blades aiming for his hand sliced through empty air, and in the meantime, Encrid grabbed the wall again with his right hand and pulled himself up.
Swoosh!
His body surged upward. As he floated into the air, he saw the two figures below begin to panic.
Their eyes, their pupils, shook.
With the sun at his back, it looked as though a dark shadow had suddenly appeared to them.
"Wait!"
One of the figures shouted, but it didn't matter.
Why should he care about showing mercy to those who attacked first?
Encrid twisted his body in midair, drawing a Gladius with his right hand and gripping Ember in his left.
To the attackers, it looked as if light was shooting from Encrid's eyes.
With the sun behind him, it added to the eerie effect.
What happened next occurred in the blink of an eye as Encrid's hands moved.
The dark shadow, the glowing eyes, and the two beams of physical threat split the air viciously in opposite directions.
Clang!
Thud!
With his right hand, he slashed as soon as he drew his sword.
With his left hand, he stabbed the moment he pulled his blade.
Two different sword techniques struck the two opponents simultaneously.
The one on the right barely managed to block with their sword, but the one on the left had no such luck.
The blade pierced their left shoulder.
They were lucky it wasn't worse.
It was the result of Encrid incorporating his recent realization into the attack.
'Still lacking.'
Encrid realized that in his left hand, he had to infuse the 'Will of the Moment', and in his right hand, the Crushing Sword.
He reflected on this as he taught and fought off the attackers.
The path he was meant to follow was becoming clearer.
As he landed on the ground with a thud, one knee touching the earth, Encrid lifted his head, a smile unconsciously forming on his face.
Is there ever a time not to learn?
Every moment, everything is a teacher and a lesson.
He learned something from the power exuded from Krang's back, and from Andrew's refined techniques, he learned how to mix swordsmanship with wrestling.
There was much to learn here as well.
Encrid felt satisfied just with the fact that he had come all the way to the Capital and protected Krang.
He had always been that kind of person.
However, from the opposite perspective, it was something terrifying.
Leaping over a wall in one swift movement, cutting one man with a short sword midair, piercing another's shoulder, and then landing while smiling?
The light in his eyes could easily be mistaken for madness.
"That bastard is insane!"
One of the attackers shouted.
Encrid had no interest in what they were shouting.
Who were they? His instincts were sharp, but now he was certain.
'Is there any difference from the ones before?'
There wasn't much difference.
In that case, he just had to cut them down. The group felt no different from the assassins who had attacked along the way.
They were from the same group.
With this in mind, he moved just before taking action.
These men were assassins, well-trained in their techniques. Especially skilled in reading their opponent's intent, they quickly spoke as Encrid closed in.
"Stop!"
It was a cry filled with urgency, but of course, it was in vain.
They were already deemed as enemies.
Whoosh.
The distance closed. It was hard to even register when he moved and when he finished moving—he was that fast.
At the same time, a long line was drawn above their heads.
There were three attackers in total, but the only one still unscathed was the one who had shot the arrow from the wall.
It was this unscathed one who shouted "Stop", but no sooner had the shout ended than a blade fell from above.
To the attacker, it seemed as if the space between them suddenly vanished, with a sword cutting down toward them.
'Shit!'
There wasn't even time to curse out loud.
He drew his sword upward as quickly as he could.
What he held in his hands were two curved scimitars, his signature weapons.
Originally, he had been an influential figure within the Assassin's Guild.
'I'll block it and deflect it.'
The moment he made up his mind, the two scimitars rose to meet the incoming streak of light.
'I blocked it!'
But strangely, the moment the light met his blades, it felt as if time was stretching out.
This gave him room for more thoughts.
However, there was no time to ponder the mystery. He focused entirely on blocking.
'It was fast.'
Realization dawned on him.
The angle of his draw, the way he gripped the swords, how he applied force.
'Yes, that's how it should be done.'
The proper way to swing a weapon, the right way to apply strength, it all came back to him.
But why hadn't he felt any impact yet?
As he stared at the streak of light, he saw it was slowly descending. The blade was tracing a perfect, unwavering line downwards.
Finally, the light, which he had perceived as a beam, connected with his two weapons.
That was as far as his thoughts went.
Boom!
Crack, crack! Crash!
Encrid had imbued his sword strike with the 'Will of the Moment'.
What does speed truly rely on?
"Speed comes from properly contracting your muscles, that's all. Those idiots who just bulk up without understanding it are all useless, absolutely useless."
Rem had once said.
"It's all about the muscles, brother."
Audin had said it.
Muscles—specifically, muscles that know how to be properly used and controlled.
From the muscles of the right thigh, waist, abs, shoulders, forearms, all the way to the grip, every muscle contracted, adding explosive speed.
By twisting his ankle and waist, centrifugal force was added to the sword, which descended from above.
Once everything aligned, the falling sword was like a bolt of lightning.
It was a sword strike that reinterpreted Ragna's Thunder Strike in his own way.
It was a blow that only someone at the level of a Knight could hope to block.
This was the will of a downward strike, not a thrust.
So naturally, this was the result.
The bolt of lightning, fueled by trained muscles, pushed the two curved blades downward.
The first explosive sound came from the clash of metal.
The following cracking sound was from the attacker's hands and arm bones breaking as they gripped the scimitars.
The final 'crash' was the dull part of the scimitars being pushed back and colliding with the collarbone.
Encrid crushed his opponent with a single blow.
"Hooo."
As he exhaled deeply, still in that position, the remaining two attackers didn't dare make a move.
One of them, the one with the hole in his shoulder, had a vial of 'Ten Breaths' poison in his hand, but he couldn't move.
Encrid, standing with his back to the shadow cast by the wall, let out his breath, which rose like steam from his lips.
The sudden burst of heat from his body was due to the rapid movements.
"Stop? Wait? Do you have something to say?"
Encrid finally spoke.
'Damn, he sure took his time asking.'
Thought the attacker, who had broken two finger bones while blocking the Gladius, as he slowly stood up and spoke.
"We came to give you a warning."
"A warning?"
Was it just his imagination, or did it feel more like they had come to get beaten up?
Encrid looked at them as if telling them to continue.
"Guh... We came to tell you that this is not where you belong. You need to go back."
This came from the one with the hole in his left shoulder.
"You were the ones who attacked first."
"It was a level you could dodge."
"Are you kidding me? Given what's happened so far, even if I cut both your heads off, you wouldn't have a right to complain."
The moment he finished speaking, the one with the pierced shoulder threw a smoke bomb at the ground.
Poof!
Smoke erupted.
Watching this, Encrid thought to himself that they were really underestimating him.
Do they really think that if they throw a smoke bomb and attack, it'll work on me?
He retrieved Ember, extended the Gladius forward, and swung it, using the flat side to create a gust of wind.
Whoosh!
Once physical force exceeds a certain limit, it's no different from magic.
The smoke was blown aside.
Encrid expected the attackers to continue their assault.
They always had up until now.
But this time, his expectation was wrong.
'I let my guard down.'
Encrid admitted it. He hadn't expected them to flee, but they had all run away.
"What the hell was that?"
Andrew came running out of the mansion belatedly, fully armed. Behind him, the five trainees followed, along with Mac.
Though he had transitioned into a butler's role, it was clear that he hadn't neglected his training. Given the atmosphere in the Capital, it wasn't the time to lay down one's sword and rest easy.
This place was filled with countless irritations.
"They're already gone."
Andrew quickly caught on that there had been attackers. His eyes turned toward the corpse.
"And who is that?"
"He attacked, took a hit, and died."
Encrid responded casually.
The man's arms and bones were shattered, his collarbone broken. His organs were damaged from the impact, and his heart was struck by the back of his own weapon, sending him across the river to the afterlife.
"This is ridiculous. In broad daylight, jumping over a noble's wall? Not even at night?"
Andrew remarked, glancing at the dead man and the remnants of the smoke bomb, his voice tinged with anger.
Encrid was piecing the situation together.
They were part of an assassin group.
Why did they strike now?
'Jaxon is away. Everyone's scattered.'
There couldn't have been a better time than this.
And what did that mean?
'They're watching.'
Beside him, Andrew ground his teeth.
"These bastards…"
His pride was wounded, and his anger was clear.
Encrid wiped the blood off his sword and sheathed it, running his hand through his hair.
Until just a moment ago, it hadn't been bad.
There had been realizations, after all.
For people like Ragna and Rem, breaking through walls dozens of times in a single day might be nothing, but for Encrid, repeating things 'today' was a matter of luck aligning in his favor.
Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.
Couldn't he pull that luck in his favor more deliberately?
To do that, he first needed to understand the current situation.
"What about the Knights or the Knight orders?"
This was the core issue. He asked it directly.
Andrew bit his lower lip, visibly trembling.
What does the Kingdom's strength rely on?
Of course, it's the Knights.
If there weren't any Knights or they couldn't train them, it would be no surprise if Aspen crushed them.
Localized conflicts weren't the real issue. If Naurillia's forces had even slightly faltered, Aspen would have immediately deployed its full strength and crossed the border.
The only reason they hadn't broken through the Border Guard was because the Knight orders existed.
Aspen had assessed that if they pushed for a full-scale conflict and risked national decline, they might still lose in the end.
Understanding and predicting the situation—that was what mattered now.
Encrid thought about this as he assessed the situation.
'This kind of thing is really Big Eyes' specialty.'
But with him not around, what could he do?
If you have no teeth, you have to chew with your gums.
"Do you know the current state of the Kingdom?"
Andrew thought for a moment before asking in return,
"Do you?"
"Nope."
Encrid answered cheerfully, as if it didn't concern him in the least.
Seeing this, Andrew began to understand why Krang held such high regard for this crazy Commander.
How many people could admit they didn't know something when they didn't?
There was an unshakable, upright, and firm quality about him.
And his skill?
'A monster. He's a monster.'
It was almost as if one would be curious about the final moments of the fallen corpse.
Why does that bastard look like he's smirking?
It was because, in the moment of death, enlightenment had come to him along with his life flashing before his eyes.
Of course, Andrew couldn't know that.
"There isn't a single Knight in the Capital right now. Let's go inside and discuss the details."
This wasn't a conversation for the trainees to hear.
"Mac."
Andrew called as he turned away.
"Yes, I'll handle things."
Mac replied, though his complexion looked awful.
Encrid thought it was only natural.
If he had to serve a Lord who had bet everything on an obviously losing hand, he'd have a headache too.
Though Encrid hadn't heard everything, he could sense enough.
'Isn't this an unwinnable fight?'
It was obvious without needing to think deeply. From Krang's perspective, it was one peril after another.
It made Encrid wonder whether it might've been better to build strength outside first, then return later with more troops to crush the enemy by force.
"What happened? Something going on?"
Rem returned before evening.
"There's nothing good."
Dunbachel was with him, and a bit later, Ragna arrived.
"Why does he keep claiming he knows all the shortcuts when it's his first time in the Capital?"
The servant who had accompanied them was drenched in sweat, though it wasn't even a particularly hot day.
Sending the servant along had been a stroke of genius, after all.
Lastly, Jaxon returned.
"Where do you keep wandering off to?"
Rem said, giving him a sideways glance.
They had all gathered in the lounge on the first floor, used as a reception room.
Though Rem himself had been out and about, he seemed to have already forgotten about it.
That's just how Rem was.
Jaxon completely ignored the comment. He didn't even glance over or acknowledge it.
While Jaxon often ignored remarks, this time it was as if he didn't care at all, like it didn't even register with him.
Instead, he turned his gaze to Encrid. Encrid noticed and spoke up.
"You're back?"
Jaxon nodded.
To Encrid, it seemed like Jaxon was deep in thought about something.
It was subtle, something you wouldn't notice without strong intuition.
"Is something on your mind?"
Encrid asked.
"No."
The answer came immediately. That, too, was strange.
Normally, Jaxon would've responded with something like:
"Should there be something on my mind?"
Or,
"It seems like there's something going on here, not with me."
But this time, nothing.
Why?
Encrid was curious but doubted asking more would get a proper answer. If Jaxon were that forthcoming, their platoon wouldn't have earned its reputation as the 'Madmen Platoon'.
For now…
"Andrew, continue."
It was more important to hear the explanation. Whether they acted on it or not, they at least needed to understand the situation.