"People often say that becoming a Knight requires overwhelming talent. But if you break that down, what does it really mean?"
Lierbart stood up, leaning on his shield as it struck the ground. His brow furrowed deeply, clearly trying to endure the pain.
At the tip of Ember, which was hanging towards the ground, red blood dripped onto the floor.
Encrid didn't charge at him right away.
Why? His instincts told him that his opponent wasn't finished yet.
If he had suffered such a penetrating wound, he shouldn't have been able to move, right?
His instincts, combined with the curiosity sparked by what Lierbart was saying, made Encrid pause for a moment. Lierbart continued speaking.
"A Squire learns techniques based on their Will. So what about Knights?"
There was something calm in his tone, yet it was tinged with a kind of desperation.
Blood was flowing from Lierbart's abdomen. Despite groaning in pain, he straightened his back. He continued speaking.
"It's different, really different. They're faster and stronger. For instance, just like the power you displayed earlier when you struck down with your sword."
Encrid thought he might be seeing things. The blood flowing from Lierbart seemed to be darkening in color.
But that wasn't all.
The man who had been grimacing in pain just moments ago now appeared much more at ease.
It wasn't a deception or a trick. He genuinely seemed to be recovering.
It was an incomprehensible process, even as Encrid watched it unfold.
"Ah, do you know this? Malten was more skilled than I am, and Benukt was stronger. As for Banat, her agility was beyond what a human could possibly match."
Lierbart mentioned the names of his comrades. Naturally, Encrid didn't recognize any of them, so instead of responding, he swung his sword. Kicking off the ground with a sharp sound, he executed a diagonal slash. He sheathed Ember and gripped Silver with both hands.
Clang!
Lierbart displayed strength equal to Encrid's, deflecting the attack.
The sound of metal clashing erupted loudly, and sparks flew fiercely.
'What is this?'
Encrid's hands were tingling from the shock transmitted through his sword.
After exchanging blows and retreating, he saw Lierbart mimicking the trajectory of his earlier strike, swinging his sword through the air. He held the sword with just one hand. He had blocked Encrid's two-handed slash with a single hand.
He repeated the motions as if getting accustomed to a new sword.
Diagonal slash, vertical slash, horizontal slash, thrust.
The movements were basic and simple, but the strength behind them was far from what it had been earlier.
Whoosh.
The air stirred as the sword fell, vertical to the ground, and brushed past Encrid's cheek.
"So this is what it is."
As he spoke, the blood flowing from his side mixed with a dark black substance, turning into a dark red, and soon after, the bleeding stopped.
The hair on Lierbart's face grew out like spikes, and the fuzz on his face lengthened, covering it.
Yet his eye color didn't change. The cold gaze he had initially was gone.
Instead, his eyes were filled with a burning intensity. It was a flame of slaughter and lust, twisted and distorted.
It wasn't pure passion. It was a warped and vile emotion.
"If you can master every ability to the level of a Knight, then you can become a Knight."
Lierbart spoke.
His words weren't wrong.
If you could match a Knight in physical ability, reaction speed, strength, and agility, then, in theory, you could challenge a Knight. That would be the path to becoming one.
Lierbart's entire body was now covered in fur.
He was no longer human as he had been moments before.
He resented the world that had driven him to this point. That's why he wanted to tell his story. Why he had been forced to go to such lengths, why he had no choice but to do so.
It was a story he couldn't hold back.
Sometimes people are driven to share their story.
For Lierbart, this was that moment.
Before him stood someone who had won, someone blessed with talent.
He didn't know Encrid well enough to realize that his opponent hadn't reached this point purely through talent.
Because otherwise, it didn't make sense.
So he spoke.
His arms and hands were covered in fur. He let the hand holding his sword hang down and opened his mouth. His throat had changed slightly, but it wasn't so different that he couldn't speak.
He had struggled to get used to it at first, but not anymore.
"Sometimes, to become a Knight, some people must risk their lives. But if death is inevitable, should they still walk that path?"
He had reached the edge of the cliff, and now all that was left was to jump. Should he jump, even knowing he would die?
"Another person's single step was a step that I had to risk my life to take."
Lierbart's words were filled with bitterness.
"Was it over after I was lucky enough to make it across once? No, it wasn't. I had to cross several times, face other cliffs. So I gave up."
It could have been a lie. Encrid hadn't reached this point through talent.
From any perspective, Lierbart's talent seemed far greater.
The man lamented his lack of talent and cursed the world for it, speaking of his suffering and despair.
At times, he must have cursed the Goddess of luck.
At other times, he must have cursed fate.
And now, here he was.
Even so, Encrid didn't feel as if the man's words were deceptive.
'Rem has his path.'
Ragna has Ragna's path.
Jaxon has Jaxon's path.
Audin has Audin's path.
Dunbachel, Teresa, Esther, Andrew.
Everyone walks their own path.
And Encrid had his.
Just because someone lamented over their lack of talent didn't mean he had to agree with their sorrowful tune.
So he didn't think it was a lie.
So he didn't harbor any resentment.
So he showed no emotion toward his opponent.
Lierbart felt disturbed.
When you say something like this, there should be some kind of response. Usually, there are two types of reactions.
Wasn't that always the case?
After he got used to this power, he had sought out and killed all those who had defeated him, one by one.
"Unfair."
Someone had said so, and it satisfied the twisted desires within Lierbart's heart.
Yes, it's unfair!
Talent itself is unfair, so isn't this the right way to act?
"Why would someone like you make such a foolish choice?"
Another had scolded him, calling it false strength.
But no, strength is the truth.
Now, tell me.
Even if a Knight were to come, do you still think they could surpass you?
Lierbart had realized the limits of talent, so he changed his body.
In doing so, he grasped the power of a Knight.
"Every chimera was merely an experiment for me."
Lierbart spoke.
Encrid didn't bother repeating the words Esther had shared with him.
Things like, The Count's target wasn't you, or other irrelevant comments.
Even if he said them, Lierbart wouldn't listen.
And even if he listened, nothing would change.
Encrid raised his sword.
Lierbart looked into the bright blue eyes shining through Encrid's dark hair.
Those eyes were still unwavering, focused, and determined.
Lierbart wanted to gouge those eyes out. He hated them.
In the end, the more he looked at this man, the more uncomfortable he felt. It was as if Encrid was silently condemning Lierbart's path as wrong. It stung worse than anything anyone had ever said to him.
So he would kill him. He had to kill him.
"My Lord has bestowed this strength upon me."
Encrid adjusted his grip on his sword, holding it at an angle.
The sense of pressure exuding from Lierbart after his transformation had changed.
It was different from the oppressive aura the Knights of Aspen had displayed, which felt like ropes constricting his entire body. Lierbart's pressure was more like a heavy slab of iron crushing his shoulders.
"And thus, I have become a Knight."
With that declaration, the oppressive weight doubled.
Encrid didn't back down.
His opponent spoke of being a Knight, while he was only at the level of a Squire.
But did that change anything?
Even so, he would win.
Even so, he wouldn't lose.
His resolve would shine bright, becoming his strength.
Whoosh.
It was as if the space itself had folded. Lierbart's sword thinned like a thread as it descended.
Encrid lifted his sword just in time. It was a close call. If he had missed, his body would have been sliced cleanly in half.
The two swords collided with an explosive sound.
Bang!
Encrid felt as if his body was being pressed into the ground. His knees shook.
No, it was only a sensation. It was the pressure contained in the strike that made it feel that way.
Encrid pulled his feet out of the ground with force and lifted his sword perpendicular to the ground.
Lierbart's sword struck Encrid's blade as if waiting for the moment.
Crack! Craaack.
A crack appeared in the middle of Silver.
Lierbart's sword still looked as thin as a thread.
That thread was fast and faint, and the moment it made contact, the impact doubled, shaking Encrid's entire body. But he could block it. He could react.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Encrid swung Silver toward the incoming blade. He met it head-on, blocking again and again.
If it had been anyone else standing in his place, they would have given up long ago.
What Lierbart said was the truth.
He had surpassed the limits of a human being through the body of a chimera.
He believed that by doing so, he had obtained the strength of a Knight.
Encrid repeatedly deflected his opponent's sword.
It was close, but he held on.
Noticing the crack in Silver, he switched to his Gladius. Its solid and thick blade, crafted by the hands of Dwarves, withstood the continuous strikes without breaking.
The thread-like blade twisted, aiming for his shoulder. Encrid swung diagonally to deflect it.
If he simply blocked, he would be overpowered, so he struck back instead. It was something he had learned from his previous encounter with the Knights of Aspen.
Encrid fought just as he had been taught.
Every attack and defense was carried out with precision.
After more than thirty exchanges of strikes, barely holding on, Lierbart took a step back.
He couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt.
"A Squire managing to block a Knight's sword?"
A Squire? That shouldn't be possible. The level of swordsmanship was different. The speed and power of the attacks were beyond what a Squire could handle. So how was he able to endure?
As Lierbart voiced his confusion, Encrid pressed his severed earlobe with his hand.
It was a wound caused by a glancing blow as he dodged and blocked the attacks.
Blood trickled down his neck and onto the ground.
His armor was dented and torn in various places. Without a helmet, blood also flowed from his hair, caused by a slight cut on his scalp.
The attacks had been brutal. The sword moved as freely as a thread. Yet, Encrid had managed to block it.
Because it was easier to block than Ragna's slashes.
Because it was easier to handle than Rem's axe strikes.
Because it was easier to anticipate than Jaxon's silent sword.
Because it was easier to withstand than Audin's brute punches.
All of those experiences had prepared him for this.
At least, that's how he felt right now.
"Are you really a Knight?"
Encrid questioned.
He knew that if Lierbart were a true Knight, this wouldn't be the limit of his power. Realizing this, Encrid spoke again.
"You've never actually faced a Knight, have you?"
It was the truth.
Lierbart had been afraid of defeat and death, terrified of confirming the difference in talent.
That's why, deep down, he had hoped to face a Knight this time. He needed to surpass his limits now. He believed he could overcome them.
Encrid had figured it out.
The anger in Lierbart's eyes grew, fueled by frustration.
From a mere Squire?
Encrid grinned and spoke.
"As I see it, you're not even as good as Ragna."
Who was that?
Lierbart didn't ask. He could sense Encrid's intention.
He was mocking him, mirroring how Lierbart had earlier mentioned the names of his comrades.
"Even if Rem put in a bit of effort, he could take you down. A Knight?"
Encrid raised his tone at the end, provoking Lierbart further.
What if, even after all this, he still couldn't become a Knight?
What had he become after abandoning his humanity?
He had walked a path soaked in blood, killing his family and slaughtering everyone in his household.
Starting with his fiance, he had thrown several of his own kin into the experiments.
He had sacrificed everyone who had once followed him on the altar.
And yet, even after all this, he couldn't become a Knight?
"A few punches from Audin might knock some sense into you. Maybe it's time for you to devote yourself to a God, what do you think?"
Encrid spoke, panting for breath, his arm trembling as he held his sword.
Those words snapped the last thread of Lierbart's sanity.
"I'll kill you, and then I'll hunt down every one of the people you've mentioned and kill them too."
With those words, Lierbart charged at Encrid with twice the speed and force he had before his transformation.
When he said, "I'll hunt them down one by one", his sword was already flying toward Encrid's head, aiming to cleave his skull.
Once again, Encrid barely managed to block the strike.
Clang!
The metallic sound echoed across the battlefield. By now, more eyes had gathered to watch. The soldiers, both friend and foe, had stopped fighting, drawn to the outcome of this duel.
Their fight wouldn't determine the outcome of the war.
But it was a battle no one could look away from. A duel where two lives clashed, and the truth of whose path was right or wrong would be decided.
Both men had carved out their lives with swords, so it was only natural that they now spoke through them.
Their swords clashed again.
Encrid's body was accumulating more and more wounds.
His shoulder guard flew off with a sharp crack.
A scratch appeared on his cheek.
Blood sprayed in the air.
His thigh was slashed as well.
Despite being pushed back, Encrid kept the same thought in mind.
Esther had told him he couldn't lose.
If he lost here, he would be forced back, and he'd have to start over from the morning.
So if he died, would it just mean repeating the same day again?
If he had lived with that mindset, he would have already been trapped in an ordinary, unremarkable life.
'I will win.'
He would not lose.
His resolve remained unwavering.
Once again, his determination became his strength, shining bright.
A new manifestation of Willpower emerged.
It was the fourth Will, following Rejection, the Moment, and Intimidation .