Silent Stab.
It was Jaxon's specialty.
No presence. No force. The blade, advancing without a sound, was simply fulfilling its original purpose.
It was born to stab, slash, and tear flesh, and so, it would be used for that.
The silently advancing blade aimed at Encrid's back.
If he drove it in like this, the mission would be complete.
"Want to spar?"
Jaxon found himself staring into Encrid's eyes, who had already turned around. The sword executing the Silent Stab halted, frozen in mid-action as Jaxon extended his right hand forward.
'Did he sense it and react?'
That meant the Silent Stab had been broken.
Ting.
At some point, Encrid had drawn his silver longsword and lightly struck the halted blade. It was a formality, nothing more.
Jaxon quickly pulled the deflected sword back in front of him.
The vibration from the blade transmitted through his body.
"I named it Silver. My sword."
Encrid spoke as he raised the sword upright. The blade caught the moonlight, reflecting it at a slight angle.
As Jaxon gazed at it, he realized what had just happened.
The Silent Stab wasn't broken. He simply hadn't executed it.
'I didn't want to.'
He hadn't put his full intent into it. He hadn't completely erased his presence.
Why?
"Jaxon."
His name was called. From Encrid's eyes, reflecting the moonlight, a blue light gleamed. The aura from the sword in his hand surged. Encrid's shoulder shifted ever so slightly. Jaxon responded immediately.
From the stance, he predicted the incoming attack and retreated.
Whoosh.
Encrid's sword, which he had named Silver, cut a short arc where Jaxon had just been standing.
With his right hand gripping the hilt, and his left holding the ricasso, Encrid had drawn a short, controlled stroke.
It was an attack that could only come from trusting the sharpness of the blade.
Instead of using centrifugal force for the slash, he had relied on the blade's inherent sharpness.
"If you let your guard down, you'll lose a part of yourself."
Encrid's voice rang out. His blue eyes, visible between the sword he held in both hands, pierced through the night's darkness.
It was a voice filled with presence. Eyes filled with presence.
Jaxon took in that presence and analyzed his opponent's attack. After taking everything in within a brief moment, Jaxon finally spoke.
"You're taking advantage of the weapon's strengths?"
In a usual situation, it would have been time for action, not words. But Jaxon opened his mouth to speak.
Though he was aware that he was acting differently than usual, he didn't dwell on it.
So, he just did whatever felt right.
Was this for the mission?
Or was it for revenge?
Was stabbing him in the back the right thing?
'Doesn't matter.'
In his mind, Jaxon recalled Encrid's usual tone and mimicked it. He wasn't even consciously aware he was doing it.
Encrid exhaled with a soft "huff". His breath seemed to materialize in the moonlight, showing the intensity he carried.
"I'm serious—if I go easy on you, you'll get hurt. Jaxon."
Encrid wasn't the same as before.
This man had changed.
He was nothing like when they had first met.
What had Jaxon seen in that man who once swung his sword silently and without a word?
That person, who had been beaten and knocked around everywhere, a superior in name only, was gone.
Now, his body seemed twice as large as before.
Jaxon threw his sword to the ground. The blade sank into the earth with a thud.
Then he drew another weapon—a stiletto.
"That?"
Encrid recognized it.
It was the item that Leona Rockfreed had wagered and eventually won.
The item given without hesitation.
It was a stiletto from the Carmen Collection.
Jaxon gazed indifferently at the stiletto's blade.
Did he give it knowing its value?
At that time, there hadn't been any ulterior motive visible in Encrid.
With the tip of the gifted blade, Jaxon aimed at the one who had given it to him.
"Don't let your guard down. I'm asking you."
An 'ask'—a word Jaxon had never spoken before.
Encrid's lips twisted. A chuckle escaped him.
"Half a life."
Encrid spoke. It meant that this was going to be dangerous.
It was also an indication that this duel was different from the ones before.
Encrid's eyes, blazing fiercely, were locked straight ahead.
The two locked eyes, and Jaxon let his arms drop. At that moment, a silent throwing knife flew towards Encrid's forehead.
The Sense of Evasion, a technique of heightened instincts, activated.
Even though the attack couldn't be seen or heard, he was able to dodge it, operating in the realm of the sixth sense.
Encrid sensed it and avoided it. He tilted his head, letting the sharp, soundless blade slide past. Just then, another throwing knife was on its way, aimed at where Encrid had dodged.
'A time delay.'
It was the Tangum style, specifically the knife-throwing technique Jaxon had personally taught.
But, Encrid hadn't expected Jaxon to start with that right off the bat. You can't predict everything.
Though he didn't foresee it, his body reacted.
Encrid used his sword's blade as a shield and blocked it.
Clang!
The blades met, sending sparks flying as they split the moonlight.
While the two blades were flying at him, Encrid discreetly pushed the tip of his left foot into the ground.
It was a subtle move meant to keep Jaxon's attention on the sword.
Then he kicked that lead foot forward.
Poof.
Dirt sprayed forward, with a bit of weed mixed in, obscuring Jaxon's vision.
Instinctively, Jaxon lowered his gaze, gripped the stiletto in reverse, and sidestepped.
Ping.
Encrid's silver longsword stabbed through the air, nearly at the same moment as the dirt flew, but Jaxon had anticipated and dodged it.
Jaxon's specialty was the Correct Sword Technique.
Whenever he fought head-on, he enjoyed calculating his opponent's moves and keeping them within his own intent.
It was the same this time.
Although, there was a new element added.
That was why Encrid saw Jaxon as a beast hiding its claws.
On the other hand, to Jaxon, Encrid felt like a smooth, unyielding flintstone.
No visible gaps. That's how much he had grown.
Which is why...
"This should be fun."
Jaxon muttered.
Encrid, hearing this, replied,
"You don't say."
* * *
"…Wow, where have you been getting beaten up like that?"
Andrew had arranged separate rooms for them, but the stairs leading up to the rooms were the same.
In front of those stairs, Rem was standing, tossing and catching his axe as if playing with it.
Noticing the subtle swelling on Jaxon's left cheekbone, Rem smiled widely and spoke up.
"You didn't sneak attack and went head-on? That's not like you. What's up? Got dumped by a girl? Did you lose your mind or something?"
Rem was in such a good mood that he was just spouting off random nonsense.
Normally, Jaxon would have ignored him, and under the previous mood, he wouldn't have even pretended to listen. But now, things felt different. His usually tight expression had loosened up, and he responded without thinking.
"Dumped? Do you think I'm you?"
With just six words, Rem was left feeling utterly defeated.
Judging by appearances, Jaxon's face was strikingly handsome, enough to make one think he could easily be the poster boy of any salon.
"Real men are all about raw masculinity, you brat."
Rem replied, but thought to himself, 'Looks like he's come back completely relaxed.'
"I don't even have the energy to stop you guys today. If you're going to fight, take it outside. Don't break anything in here."
Encrid approached Jaxon from behind and spoke.
Andrew, being stingy, hadn't placed many candles in the mansion.
Lamps were even harder to come by.
Judging by the food and the overall condition of the place, it didn't seem like a household of wealth.
Even the wooden training swords used by the trainees made that clear.
As a result, the mansion was quite dim at night. Encrid seemed to emerge from the shadows in the darkness.
Of course, Rem had already sensed his presence by then.
"You fought with the Captain?"
Rem called out from the top of the stairs, glancing down. As Encrid stepped into the light of a wall sconce, his condition became more visible.
While Jaxon's left cheekbone was swollen, Encrid had a swollen eye and was limping.
There was also a small puncture wound on his arm. Through the bandages wrapped around it, blood could be seen seeping through. The mark of a knife that had been stabbed in and pulled out.
Oh dear.
Even from Rem's perspective, Encrid's body had grown beyond sturdy—now it was rock solid.
Skill? His skills were not to be underestimated anymore either.
For someone to wound a body like that?
It meant they had fought seriously. Both Jaxon and Encrid.
"Did he attack you from behind?"
At the suddenly asked question, Jaxon now genuinely considered Rem not worth responding to.
"Move, before I remove that useless head from your shoulders."
"Try it, punk. Don't think I'll let you off just because you came back beaten up."
"Rem, stop it."
Encrid chimed in. Rem clicked his tongue, standing up by pushing off the stairs with just his heels.
The old wooden steps creaked loudly.
Rem, axe in hand and not exactly small in stature, leapt lightly to the floor without making a sound.
It was as if a cat had landed.
"Kidding, just kidding. Still, we're in the same company, so I was thinking of paying them back for you. Gotta keep the loyalty, you know? So it was just a spar?"
By then, Jaxon had already moved up the stairs. When it came to silent movement, he was several levels ahead.
Rem, noticing this, glanced up. All he could see were Jaxon's heels as he neared the top of the stairs.
Turning back, Rem remarked,
"Looks like you're pretty banged up."
"It's nothing."
Encrid felt pain around his left hip, but he didn't think it was serious.
The limp was more for quick recovery than because he couldn't walk.
Besides, some of the injuries on his body were self-inflicted.
In other words, the wounds were within his expected limits.
"So, what was that all about?"
Was he really asking without knowing it was a spar?
No, he knew. There was a deeper meaning to his question.
He was asking why Encrid had pushed himself into such an intense fight, especially knowing Jaxon's condition.
Because Jaxon had been acting differently than usual.
Encrid internally let out an "Ah".
Despite his appearance, Rem was sharp and quick to grasp situations, always knowing what needed to be done.
"I was being chased after killing some noble's son. I've been busy running."
Rem's words from before flashed through Encrid's mind.
He had killed a noble's son and fled because he could.
If he had needed to kill him secretly and escape, he would have.
But for him to kill so openly, and make it clear it was his doing, there had to have been a reason.
Images of how Rem had acted up until now flashed through Encrid's mind.
And suddenly, Encrid realized why Rem hadn't slipped away after killing that noble's son.
He had drawn everyone's attention—especially the nobles'—to himself. It was necessary.
"You made it so everyone would see you as the main culprit, didn't you?"
Encrid muttered to himself.
Rem blinked. What was this guy thinking about now?
He suddenly spouted some strange, out-of-nowhere comment.
"Get a grip. Did your sickness relapse?"
Rem said, tapping his own head with his index finger.
Encrid ignored him and continued his train of thought. Krais's words suddenly came to mind as well.
Krais, when bored, would often observe the personalities or attitudes of the company members. One thing he had said back then came to mind.
"The Captain might be lazy when it comes to thinking, but Rem is a bit different."
"Different?"
"Rem knows everything but chooses to act as if he doesn't. He only reveals what he knows when it's necessary."
If Rem had secretly killed the noble's son and slipped away, what would have happened to the commoners who had suffered under that noble?
Rem had shown himself so they wouldn't take it out on the commoners.
He made himself the target, saying,
"Come after me."
He probably left traces intentionally, and fought them off repeatedly.
He led them to focus solely on chasing him, losing track of everything else.
Then, when he had wasted enough of their time, he vanished, probably fleeing all the way to the outskirts.
This guy is really cunning.
Rem had been staring at Encrid for a while before speaking again.
"You're talking nonsense, and what's wrong with your eyes? Huh? Your eyes seem a bit off."
Encrid shook his head.
It's nothing.
As he did, he continued thinking.
Looking back, it made sense. Before Encrid joined the squad as a mediator, Rem had only caused moderate trouble.
The real mischief and reckless acts started after Encrid came.
'Because he could.'
He did it so people would know what kind of person he was.
He made sure no one dared mess with him and that he could live however he wanted without interference. He solidified his image like that.
A sly stray cat? Who's really the sly one here?
"Look, I'm telling you, your eyes are weird right now."
"Let's hang around a bit longer."
Encrid didn't bother playing along with Rem's banter.
Rem, sharp as he was, could probably guess what Encrid was thinking.
Though suspicious, Rem decided to go along with Encrid's mood.
"This about that stray cat?"
"Yeah, something like that."
Jaxon's room was right at the top of the stairs. He hadn't bothered to hide it, so Jaxon probably heard everything they were saying.
"That cat always brings nothing but trouble."
Rem grumbled in his usual manner. But still, there was no mention of leaving or walking away.
Encrid climbed the stairs.
As he did, he recalled the fight from earlier. More specifically, the moment right after their so-called 'sparring' match had ended.
"Stab me."
That's what Encrid had said to Jaxon at the end of the sparring session. But Jaxon hadn't thrust his sword.
"It's enough now."
Jaxon had replied.
Jaxon shook his head.
Encrid looked at him and spoke again.
"Just once—it's fine."
The man standing before him was the one who had taught him the Sense of Evasion technique.
Even if Jaxon had asked to stab him in return, Encrid would have been fine with it.
Encrid truly believed that.
When Jaxon had first drawn his sword behind Encrid, he had felt the killing intent. Along with that, he had sensed hesitation. Worry, concern, and anguish lingered at the tip of the blade.
Encrid had felt all of that in a single stroke of the sword.
After responding to all those worries and concerns with their sparring match, Encrid had thought to himself.
Whoever was behind this was quite the schemer, with all sorts of tricks.
"There was a contract to stab you."
Jaxon had said this in the middle of their exchange.
Encrid couldn't help but be curious about the hidden figure behind the veil.
A warning, a contract, and scheming.
All the assassins and attempts on his life that had happened up to this point were likely orchestrated by the same person.
Creak.
The wooden stairs groaned as Encrid climbed them, heading to the room where he would stay. As he did, he continued his thoughts.
In the end, he'd have to give a response to everything that had been thrown at him.
And it would be exactly the kind of response that his hidden opponent so desperately feared.