"Andrew, yeah, give it a try."
It was after nineteen days had passed. Encrid instructed Andrew to thrust his sword at him.
He needed someone's help now.
Encrid did exactly that.
He began training by blocking the tip of Andrew's sword with his own.
"...This is such a crude training method."
By the thirty-sixth time he heard Andrew's remarks of admiration, Encrid finally matched the tip of his sword against his opponent's.
It wasn't just holding still—it was done while moving at a moderate speed.
Naturally, it wasn't easy. It was difficult. But because it was so hard, the thrill of success coursed through his entire body.
Of course, that thrill and exhilaration were short-lived.
In order to truly master it, he'd have to repeat this same drill countless times.
Yet, the fact that it was enjoyable couldn't be denied.
Ting!
A light, unfamiliar sound was heard.
"But is this actually fun?"
Andrew asked. Even while concentrating throughout the swordplay, energy surged from his entire body.
It was fun, exciting, and exhilarating.
Just like a child playing with a toy all day long, he seemed to actually be doing so.
It appeared as if he wielded the sword with pure joy as his weapon.
That was Andrew's impression.
"Yeah, absolutely."
Encrid responded, emphasizing the words.
'Why, though?'
Andrew couldn't understand it, but to Encrid, it was a natural thing, just as it always had been.
"Is this really fun?"
"Yeah, extremely."
"This?"
"Huh?"
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.
The tips of their swords clashed repeatedly.
After hearing Andrew's admiration more than forty times, Encrid, now drenched in sweat, nodded.
"That's enough."
Then he called for Rem.
"Rem, swing your axe."
He changed opponents.
Rem snorted, smiling, and swung his axe without hesitation.
There could be no allowance for even the slightest error.
He couldn't afford to leave any gaps for an intricate attack.
Without such precision, there was no way he could perfectly deflect Rem's axe. He had to deflect it completely, not just halfway.
That was the beginning.
After mastering the sword tip-clashing exercise, the next training was deflecting Rem's axe. The goal was not just to deflect but to make the sword tip and the axe blade meet perfectly.
"Is he fearless, or just thoughtless? Get over here and kneel!"
Whenever he got deeply into training, the sheriff would inevitably arrive. Every time he saw Encrid engrossed in training, he'd react similarly, and Encrid would thoughtlessly reply.
"Oh, you're here?"
By now, it was a welcome sight. After repeated training and drills, the time had come for real combat training.
With a wave of his hand, built up through their shared experiences, the sheriff's face flushed red, snorting with anger.
He thought Encrid was mocking him.
Of course, he was right.
"You son of a b..."
Before the sheriff could finish his words, Encrid silenced him with a persuasive kick.
He then had Dunbachel demonstrate the difference in strength to the sheriff's squad.
Squire Lawford was pitted against Ragna and Dunbachel, while Rem was sent to rescue Marcus, and Jaxon faced the assassins.
"Thrust…"
Before the words were even out, Jaxon responded by leaping to the side.
Silently and stealthily.
Using a magical artifact in his possession, Jaxon eliminated both sound and presence, disappearing from sight.
Encrid drew attention first, and then Jaxon followed, pulling the attention of the group of assassins and throwing them into confusion.
The assassin group, perceiving Jaxon as a greater threat, began targeting only him.
After watching this scene several times, it seemed as if they had intended to kill Jaxon from the start.
Why?
The question suddenly crossed his mind. Several thoughts flashed through his head.
He let them all pass by.
His instincts brought up suspicions, but now wasn't the time to investigate.
He rode the odd-eyed steed and met Asia, repeating the day once more.
It didn't take as long as he expected to perfectly deflect Rem's strike.
Not when he wasn't swinging 'for real'.
It only took ninety-six attempts.
Now that the concept of the basics had been properly established, it became possible.
The training he'd done in handling various weapons also proved helpful.
The more experience he gained, the more insights he had into his original weapon—the sword.
Of course, Rem always snorted when he saw this.
"That's something that just comes naturally, but your body's quite something."
In his words, as your level rises, there are things that naturally become second nature. But for him, nothing comes naturally like that.
He had once said it was like stacking stones one by one by hand, each stone carefully balanced to avoid collapse. It was a perfect analogy.
Whether it was the basics or anything else, if he didn't fully master each part, it wouldn't sink into his body.
What is the most important thing for those who make up for a lack of talent with effort?
Time.
And thanks to the curse, he had received plenty of it.
"What's even more amazing is that it's like watching a person change overnight."
Even to Rem, this was the first time seeing such a person. Clearly, Encrid lacked talent. He had reached his limit. He had arrived at the edge of a cliff, yet he kept walking into the air. Watching him walk, a path appeared beneath his feet.
Encrid, who had deflected Rem's axe, had gone beyond his previous limits and improved. His rate of growth was extraordinary.
No genius changes overnight. There are always signs or hints.
'Or maybe, there were already signs.'
Rem scratched his head as he thought about it. There was already a prepared body, technique, and the time spent training.
So, was Encrid someone who had stacked and stacked until his talent exploded in a single day?
'That doesn't make sense.'
He'd seen so many nonsensical things that he tried to just let it go, but it never ceased to amaze him. Not that there was anything to question.
"Jaxon."
This was after Encrid had also managed to handle Rem's axe fairly well. Encrid used Jaxon.
Jaxon was the only one who could display precision on the level of Sinar's sword.
Not that Rem and Ragna lacked those qualities.
They also used precise and refined sword techniques. When one's skill level rises, they naturally become proficient at many things.
But everyone has their strengths.
Jaxon's precision was on par with that of a Fairy. That was one of his strengths.
"Shake it."
Encrid continued training, allowing the sword tips to shake and clash repeatedly.
Sometimes, he'd face off against Asia in a fight.
"If you don't have a lover waiting for you, why not go later?"
He tried to dissuade her, but Asia didn't listen.
"I have something to confirm."
That's all she would say before turning away.
Then, darkness.
Once again, the day repeated itself.
"Damn, what the hell did you do?"
Rem asked, startled by the new day.
Seeing this, Encrid called Jaxon, who was gleaming with excitement, and resumed training.
With the endless repetition of 'today', and the many overlapping events, Encrid used them as an anchor to keep count.
Sometimes, the ferryman appeared, smiling. It was a smile filled with anticipation, or at least that's how it seemed to Encrid.
Chuckle, chuckle.
The laughter flowed down the black river, swaying along with the lamplight.
Whether someone was mocking him didn't bother him.
In fact, it didn't matter whether it was the ferryman or anyone else.
From a young age, he had swung his sword, run, tumbled, fought, and risen again amidst countless jeers.
Mockery was something he was used to.
Mental attacks of that kind had no effect on Encrid.
And so, he awoke from his sleep and repeated 'today' once more. Training and drilling.
It was around the time when the tip of Jaxon's sword met his own.
More specifically, when he had just about blocked Asia's sword targeting his own.
"…How?"
Asia was more than a little surprised.
"Just kept doing it."
This was a moment that couldn't simply be explained away as luck.
The thrill that shot through his entire body naturally brought a smile to his face.
Seeing this, Asia pulled her sword back and spoke.
"Your face is a weapon too, huh."
Asia took a step back and raised her sword again.
"Do it again."
He did just that, crossing swords with her.
"Trying to be like Rem? It's sloppy."
She commented bluntly and then began to shake the tip of her sword.
What was this?
This was a technique he hadn't seen during their previous sparring sessions. The tip of her sword wavered, and soon multiple points appeared before his eyes.
If he wanted to block like Rem, he'd have to parry each point individually.
With enough repetition and training, that, too, would become second nature.
But that wasn't the path he wanted to walk. He stuck to his original resolve.
'I need to build my own path.'
He had already gained all he could by mimicking Rem's technique.
"You think I look easy because you've managed to break all my techniques?"
Asia spoke again.
Her tone didn't carry resentment.
While Encrid's ability to parry by matching the sword tips was impressive, he had just been copying what Rem had shown him. She had expected this level of talent to have been hidden within him all along.
Otherwise, how could he have honed both his swordsmanship and physical techniques to this level?
After all, she herself was a member of the Knights, ranked above a Junior Knight.
She had faced countless challenges like this before. It was nothing new to her.
"If you think this is where you're stuck, you need to change that mindset."
As she spoke, she lowered her sword tip. The points disappeared, all the movements that had been shaking.
Instead, she began bouncing lightly on her feet, tapping the ground to create a rhythm. Her orange hair swayed in time with the rhythm. Naturally, her weapon wasn't just about precision swordplay.
"Let's keep going."
She said in that state.
"Of course."
Encrid nodded.
After the brief exchange, Silver, Ember, and the Dwarf's Gift sliced through the air, dancing.
On the opposite side, Asia's rapier flashed blue as it pierced, slashed, struck, and sometimes curved into attacks.
It was still difficult to block or suppress everything without sustaining any injuries.
But now, at least, he could keep up all day. However, there was a definite time limit.
On this day, for some reason, it didn't end at midnight but when the sun suddenly set.
Then today would simply repeat.
It was something he knew from experience. Therefore, he had to do his best within the time given.
"Huff huff, why did your skills suddenly improve?"
Asia asked, panting, and Encrid smiled as he answered.
"It's fun."
"You madman."
Asia laughed too, seeing him respond like that.
She also felt exhilarated, despite swinging her sword and risking her life in a situation that shouldn't have felt that way.
"See you again."
The sun set. The day repeated.
He hit a wall. It was a day that couldn't be overcome.
As Encrid opened his eyes again, he decided this time to mimic Jaxon's method.
"Next."
He muttered to himself, as if out of habit, to strengthen his resolve.
"What's next?"
Stretching his body with the Isolation Technique, Andrew asked from beside him.
"There's something."
Encrid gave a vague answer and began to mimic Jaxon's method.
The way to break Jaxon's sword tip targeting was to strike before it started.
And what did he need for that?
"Prediction. You have to sense the opponent's reaction just before it begins."
"How?"
"Feel the flutter of their eyelashes, the tension of the muscles hidden beneath their clothes."
Easy to say. Really.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No reason."
"Your eyes looked a bit like a barbarian just now."
"What are you talking about? You stray cat, that's offensive."
Rem chimed in.
"They were like the eyes of a rotten fish mixed with bad eggs. Not pleasant at all."
Jaxon ignored the conversation and spoke to Encrid as he faced a throwing axe.
With a swoosh, the axe flew toward him. Jaxon angled his longsword against it and twisted, applying just the right amount of force and timing. The axe, which had appeared as a spinning disc, bounced off vertically with a loud thud.
Bang!
The sound followed, a swift exchange of offense and defense.
His blocking move was combined with technique. It was the precise and fluid, Fluid Sword Technique.
After blocking the axe, Jaxon spoke.
"A moment ago, the barbarian's snort came out faster than usual."
Was he trying to give an example?
Did he predict it based on the snort? It must have been an instinct built from countless experiences.
Encrid watched their sparring without much interest.
Jaxon was always a step ahead.
Just like he said, beyond just evasion, he had developed a sense of attack—an instinct that adjusted to match his opponent's technique.
Perhaps you could call it a sense of prediction.
As he began this new training and learned more:
"This is really so much fun."
Once again, he muttered to himself. Seeing this, the ferryman sincerely wanted to shake his head.
This madman had no sense of boredom, no suffering, no despair.
It was as if he was trapped in a closed space, endlessly swinging his sword and enjoying it.
Even though there was no one who shared his memories in this repeating day, it didn't matter. He didn't care.
In reality, Encrid was fine because there was something he shared everything with—himself.
The process of swinging his sword, the path he was on, his growing skills, and all the changes happening were his measure of joy.
Sharing this day with his sword made it all okay.
So, after imitating Jaxon's techniques, he even touched on Ragna's. Then, when he fought without using the 'Targeting the Sword's Tip' technique but something else entirely, it happened.
Encrid's sword grazed Asia's throat.
More precisely, after blocking with Silver, he drew his Gladius and made an unpredictable horizontal slash.
With a quick sound, a piece of her skin was sliced, and droplets of blood spurted out. The whole scene unfolded in slow motion.
He had an opportunity. He knew it. He could push forward from here. But even though his mind knew it, his heart didn't command him to act.
'I made contact.'
But he didn't kill her. If he had pressed the attack, he would likely have been struck somewhere himself, but it was a moment where he could have killed her.
If he were lucky, it might only leave a hole in his shoulder. If he were unlucky, it could be a fatal wound.
Either way, it was clear that he had the chance to kill, but Encrid stopped.
The same opportunity didn't come again.
Thud!
Their swords clashed, and they switched positions. Asia now stood where Encrid had been, and Encrid where she had stood.
Blood dripped down her arm in a steady stream.
"When you get a chance, you have to take it."
Asia spoke.
It was something they both knew. Encrid didn't respond.
Asia sheathed her sword.
"Let's stop here. Go check on something behind me, and then I'll let you go. I'm sure whatever reason you came here will have no meaning anyway."
Encrid didn't answer again.
Asia brushed past him without a guard, her sword still sheathed.
After she left, time flowed as he sat there silently. Shortly after, the day ended.
It was the same as dozens of other days that had ended in the same way.
As darkness fell and he opened his eyes, he saw the purple glow of a lamp.
The ferryman.
The ferryman on the boat opened his mouth.
"That's the wall."
It was unusually kind of him to say. Perhaps it was appropriate.
"Didn't I tell you it wouldn't be fun?"
The ferryman continued.
But for Encrid, it wasn't exactly the most enjoyable experience.