'How did he achieve such delicate movements?'
In his memory, Sinar swung her sword. Her footwork was light, like a butterfly. The Leaf Blade she wielded was just as light.
Though the blade had a broad middle, it gave off a fluttering sensation.
Watching the blade move as if it were dancing, it seemed as though no strength was being applied at all.
But facing her in reality was a different story. It was a strike with full force. Encrid knew this well from experience.
How is that possible?
To achieve such precision, one must exert strength. But to execute movements like those, one must release that very strength.
He understood the method behind the movements, but questioned whether his own body could move that way.
'Is it a path unknown to me?'
No, he already knew. He had learned, practiced, and drilled these things into his body countless times.
"There's more than one way to apply strength. Without precision, the Isolation Technique is meaningless."
Audin had mentioned that there were various types of muscles.
There are large muscles, and smaller muscles that control finer movements.
Sinar had trained and refined these, achieving such precision.
Encrid needed that as well.
"If you sharpen your senses, you can feel it."
There was something Jaxon had mentioned countless times. Based on that, Encrid half-closed his eyes and began to swing the weapons in his hands.
He drew an imaginary line in the air and swung his sword accurately toward that line. It wouldn't happen in a single attempt. But that didn't matter. Encrid kept repeating it.
It was similar to training where one draws a circle on a tree and strikes it accurately. But striking a large, drawn circle and the exercise he named 'Targeting the Sword's Tip' were on completely different levels of precision and finesse.
To put it in terms of Naurillia's military ranking system, the difference was as vast as that between a low-ranking soldier and an elite one.
And what's more, the opponent's sword would also be constantly moving.
'Asia doesn't stand still.'
She moved her feet bit by bit, twisted her body, and changed the direction of her sword.
The answer became clear. Precision was required, akin to plucking a feather from a moving bird.
To achieve that, it was necessary to train with one sword's tip meeting the other. Encrid was fully immersed in this, diving deep into a sea of concentration.
As he was doing so, voices began to reach his ears.
"This is no place for a barbarian! Go suck on goat's milk!"
The third training session of the day wasn't particularly different from usual, but the encounter with the sheriff, which marked the start of the day's business, took a sudden turn.
When Encrid turned his gaze, Rem was smirking as he gripped the handle of his axe.
"Goat's milk?"
Ah, stopping him now seemed impossible.
Encrid thought, pausing the step he was about to take.
In front of the sheriff, the captain of the southern gate guard desperately tried to intervene, but whether it was out of fierce loyalty, sheer lack of thought, or overconfidence in his abilities, one of the soldiers drew his sword and swung it.
"You bastard!"
With that cry, the soldier aimed his sword at Rem's head.
Just as the blade was about to touch his hair, Rem moved.
With a sudden kick, he leaped to the side.
The downward slash missed entirely, cutting through air, and Rem immediately spun his axe, changing its direction, and swung.
Thud!
A crisp sound echoed. Instead of a swift, cutting slash, it was a blunt blow from the back of the axe.
The soldier's abdomen, struck by the flat side of the axe, briefly caved in before bouncing back. It wasn't a killing blow, but neither was it a mere pat.
"Urgh!"
The soldier, struck in the stomach, flew through the air.
'That's going to hurt.'
Encrid knew this well from experience, having been hit many times before. This wasn't a soft hammer blow. If Audin's hammer was something one could withstand, this strike could break bones or rupture organs if taken poorly.
The soldier who was sent flying rolled across the ground. Then he began to vomit on the floor. Along with tears and snot, there were traces of blood in the vomit.
The soldier rolled over once and then, after more retching, his eyes rolled back. Though struck in the stomach, he passed out.
Rem snorted and muttered as if to himself.
"Weak."
It was a small voice, but coming from the man who had silenced the room with a single blow, it was heard loud and clear.
The sheriff, in shock, gaped. Then, closing his mouth and gritting his teeth, he spoke.
"…This is treason!"
If left unchecked, Rem would begin a massacre. Neither Ragna nor Jaxon behind him were the types to stop him—they'd fight instead.
As soon as the sheriff finished speaking, Encrid moved. He stepped forward once again to persuade them.
He kicked the ground lightly, advancing while lowering his body. As he closed the distance, he struck the neck of the soldier standing in front of him with the edge of his hand.
The soldier, who had been staring blankly at Rem, gripping his spear tightly at the mention of treason, suddenly froze.
The veins on his hand were prominent, but so was the stiffness of his body.
Not that it mattered. Even if he hadn't frozen, he wouldn't have had the skill to respond.
Crack!
The soldier collapsed with a groan, his body hitting the ground. Before it even landed, Encrid spun, adding centrifugal force, and struck down the helmet of the next soldier with his palm.
A loud 'bang' resounded as his palm met the soldier's helmet.
"Ugh!"
The soldier's knees buckled like the legs of a limp octopus, collapsing to the ground.
His brain had been shaken, so it would be difficult for him to regain his senses anytime soon.
These were the two soldiers who had blocked the path between Encrid and the sheriff.
After taking them down, Encrid grabbed the sheriff's ankle, who was still sitting on his horse. The startled sheriff stared at Encrid.
As their eyes met, Encrid gave a small smile and then yanked on his ankle.
Crack!
'Aaaagh!'
The sheriff's other foot was caught in the stirrup, and it broke. It was the same thing Dunbachel had demonstrated earlier.
Encrid struck the half-dangling sheriff's head with his elbow, knocking him unconscious.
Thud. Crack.
There was a sound of the sheriff's neck cracking, but he probably wasn't dead.
All of this happened in the span of one or two breaths.
Neigh!
Only then did the horse rear up in shock, but Encrid had already done what he needed to do, so he took two steps back to avoid the horse's raised hooves.
The Squire, who had been watching from just behind the sheriff, was gripping his half-drawn sword, eyes wide.
The captain of the city guards, standing next to him, had only placed his hand on his sword, remaining frozen in place.
"Why didn't you just kill him?"
Rem muttered again from the side. Encrid glanced at the unconscious sheriff hanging from the horse and frowned slightly.
"What was the sheriff's name again?"
He had paid so little attention that he'd forgotten.
"Pullman Vertes."
The captain of the guards said cautiously.
"If you're done, it's best to leave now."
Encrid said, and the Squire, who had been about to say something, closed his mouth.
What could anyone say in a situation like this?
Everyone was silent. The soldiers had nothing more to add. The captain of the guards decided it wasn't worth risking his own legs getting broken.
The silence that fell was even heavier than when Rem had sent that soldier flying.
"You seem worse than me. I'll pass on the title of 'Noble Hunter' to you."
"Keep it for yourself."
Rem threw out a cheeky comment, and Encrid coolly responded.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The sound of galloping hooves echoed, accompanied by a frantic cry.
"Help me!"
The words came from deep within, full of genuine fear. Of course, Encrid recognized the voice, and he had expected this. It had happened twice before already.
It was Marcus. Without hesitation, Encrid cut through the soldiers blocking his path and climbed up the wall.
The soldiers didn't even try to stop him. In fact, they stepped aside. Rem followed him up onto the wall, and Dunbachel leaped up alongside them.
"Rem."
Encrid spoke while looking at Marcus, who was being chased. The pursuer in an unusual outfit caught his eye.
"It's the Madman of Immortality. I missed him before, but it looks like he's been playing around here. I'm going to go deal with him."
"Go."
Encrid replied immediately, and Rem shot off without looking back.
From the top of the wall, Rem leaped with an almost inhuman hang time, landing on the roof of another building as if flying.
At the same time, he drew a throwing axe and shouted,
"You bastard! Try running this time!"
There was no option to wait and ambush him. The enemy immediately turned around, and Rem welcomed it.
Catching someone running toward him was too easy. He wanted to chase him down and beat him. It was like a hunter's instinct.
"You lunatic."
Hearing the Madman of Immortality call him crazy, Rem kept his mouth shut and kept running. Soon, his feet left the roof, the wall, and landed on the ground. He dashed forward at terrifying speed, and the madman ran just as fast in retreat.
Both of their figures quickly disappeared from sight.
Encrid turned his body on the wall and raised one hand, saying,
"We're heading to the Royal Palace. Who's going to stop the Viscount Mernes's army from entering in the meantime?"
He proceeded by summarizing what Squire Lawford had mentioned earlier.
The big events that were bound to happen would inevitably occur.
Lawford's emotional shift was similar.
What did the words of the man sitting on the wall mean?
What am I here for?
"Ragna, Dunbachel."
Encrid called the two when he saw the change in Squire Lawford's gaze.
"Understood."
"Hmph, got it."
Both replied just as Marcus was talking about the impossible events happening in the Royal Palace, when the group of assassins arrived.
"Stab…"
It was as if someone had smeared honey on the wall, as they once again stood there. In the center stood a white-haired assassin with a monocle, just about to say something when Encrid rushed in without warning.
What was the point of talking? It would be meaningless.
He was ahead in timing, and the difference in skill was clear. He leaped onto the wall and slashed his sword down from above.
For a brief moment, a short thought crossed his mind as he swung his sword down.
'Is my sword more precise than before?'
Who knows.
He couldn't feel any changes in his body just yet.
From the assassin's perspective, something suddenly flew at him, and something heavy was coming down.
The assassin had no time to react and offered his head to the blade.
Thwack! Crack!
The sword split the assassin's head vertically. The severed head burst open sideways, and brain matter and blood trickled down from where the sword had passed.
After killing one, Encrid quickly jumped back.
Thunk, thunk, thunk.
Three daggers and five darts flew toward where he had been standing, burying themselves in the wall.
As if he had anticipated it, Encrid dodged and spoke.
"Just to be clear, I've already been stabbed. So, the job is done. It hurt, yes. That's what you ordered, right? I've got a scar here too."
He lifted his left arm as he spoke. Of course, his arm was well protected by armor, so no scar was visible.
"That crazy bastard…"
One of the other assassins muttered.
"Lacking creativity in your insults."
Encrid retorted nonchalantly. He had a natural gift for getting under people's skin without needing to learn how.
"You!"
The assassin was too busy getting angry.
In truth, assassins are specialists in sneaky stabbing.
They usually kill by slashing and stabbing when things go wrong. How often do they get provoked to the point of anger?
It was rare for them to face such taunting.
So, this approach worked perfectly.
Naturally, Encrid had captured the full attention of the assassins.
With just one swing of his sword and a couple of words, he had accomplished a lot.
By then, Jaxon had already disappeared. Without needing to be told, he knew what he needed to do.
The white-haired assassin with the monocle ground his teeth and shouted.
"The information was leaked! Everyone, respond!"
Encrid's reaction had been too fast. The assassin thought there was no way Encrid could have moved so quickly unless he had prior knowledge.
And what was with the comment afterward?
Stabbed? Where? After a brief thought, the assassin realized what Encrid meant.
He was talking about the contract.
They were ordered to kill him, but Encrid was claiming he was only stabbed. And what was with his comment about creativity in insults?
It was all nonsense.
It was clear from the start that he had come to fight.
The assassin was one of the leaders of the Assassins' Guild, and he knew how to fight.
Of course, all this happened because Encrid had lived through this day before, but the assassin couldn't possibly know that.
The assassins began moving in familiar patterns. Encrid realized that they had been trained for years.
No matter the situation, they began their attacks in similar ways.
Those who would throw, threw. Those who would retreat, retreated. Those who used poison, used poison.
During this, Jaxon's movements had been slightly different each time over the past three days.
At first, he had rampaged with a longsword, but now he was running along the wall, wielding stilettos in both hands.
Blood was splattering from the sharp blades.
Four assassins had already been killed by his stabs.
Encrid found it fascinating.
The assassins reacted the same way each time, but why was Jaxon's approach different each time?
'Is he matching his movements to mine?'
It was just a feeling, but Encrid thought it was likely.
"Attack from that side!"
This time, the shout didn't come from the white-haired assassin but from another. The order was directed at Jaxon.
It was clear how much of a threat Jaxon was.
Watching this, Encrid discreetly stepped back and called out to Odd-Eyes.
"Give me a lift."
As Encrid ran outside the mansion, Odd-Eyes joined him by his side. Marcus was already at the mansion entrance, mounted on horseback.
He had motioned for Marcus not to dismount, so Marcus remained on his horse and moved alongside him.
It was the third time living through 'today'.
Encrid judged that this was a better approach than hiding him away somewhere.
Most of his decisions remained similar to the first time through, but nothing could ever be perfect.
Even though he always strived to live each repeated day making the best possible decisions, giving it his all, he knew the truth.
'Nothing can be perfect.'
He accepted that, and that was enough.
"Where will you hide?"
"I'll manage myself. Our Lord has been detained in the Royal Palace. The Knights seem to have mobilized."
"Yeah, I know."
"…What?"
Thud, thud, thud.
Whatever Marcus said next was drowned out by the increasing speed of the horses' hooves.
Marcus quickly veered off to the side.
He really did seem intent on hiding by himself.
During a brief moment of respite, Marcus tore his shirt and tightly wrapped the wound on his arm. It wasn't a serious injury that required immediate attention.
Encrid continued running along the outer road toward the Royal Palace, jumping over obstacles as he went.
"Wow."
He ran past a startled soldier, catching a glimpse of his shocked face. Timing his movements with Odd-Eyes coming to a halt, Encrid leaped off to the side, almost flying through the air. Even Odd-Eyes seemed surprised, as if asking whether such feats were even possible.
"Thanks."
Encrid gave a quick acknowledgment and ran straight toward the Royal Palace, striding in with determined steps.
On his way in, an old enemy seemed to appear to greet him.
"You..."
Thud!
Before he could even finish speaking, Encrid rushed forward in an instant, decapitating him with Silver.
The head flew and struck the pristine white wall that lined the royal garden.
With a splatter, blood decorated the wall.
Before the instructor known for his foul mouth and his group could react, Encrid had already dashed through them.
Like a lone wolf, he stabbed and slashed through the group that had behaved like a pack of dogs, killing them swiftly.
After exchanging a few words with a maid, Encrid ran further in, only to be met by a wall of orange hair.
"Alright, this is as far as you go. Let's begin."
Encrid spoke as he ran, and before Asia could say anything, he pointed his sword at her.
It was Targeting the Sword's Tip.
Encrid aimed at that tip and swung his sword down.
The start and end of the fight weren't too different from before. He still wasn't at a level where he could surpass Asia.
The only thing that had changed was that the man he had seen on the first day never appeared again.
Instead, once Asia defeated Encrid, she immediately turned around.
"I have something to check."
She left, and darkness followed. She never returned.
After that, everything repeated, over and over again.
Encrid continued doing the same thing, again and again.