Chapter 974 - The One Controlling the Atmosphere
Having fought his way through this recent string of incidents, Enkrid couldn't help but feel that the capital's standing military forces desperately needed to be far more resilient.
Because he wasn't the type of man to merely have a thought and do nothing about it, he immediately took action.
To put it simply, they had successfully dealt with the minions, and there was still a brief window of time before the Empire's envoy arrived.
Enkrid decided to utilize that spare time specifically for the sake of those tasked with protecting the Kingdom.
And this exact scene was the very first result of that decision.
"This is horrifying."
Aishia remarked, watching the spectacle unfold.
"Tell me about it. Furthermore, it's absolutely terrifying knowing he's doing this purely out of genuine goodwill. I don't think Rem shares that sentiment, though," Andrew replied from the side.
"They can hear us," Aishia pointed out, expressing a hint of concern.
"I said it specifically so they would hear us. It's not like that man is going to go harder on us just because he heard it, or go easy on us just because he didn't."
Andrew truly understood Rem's nature.
Naturally, having overheard their conversation, Rem nodded enthusiastically and spoke up.
"You hit the nail right on the head. Let's see exactly how much you've improved. Watching you guys fight the other night honestly made me sigh. To think a bastard I personally trained is only at this pathetic level."
Rem directed his words squarely at Andrew.
To Rierban and the other members of the Royal Guard listening in, it was a genuinely absurd statement.
Andrew Gardner was a high-ranking noble, the Commander of the City Guard, and—excluding Aishia—one of the undisputed top-tier combatants in the entire capital.
A member of the Royal Guard who valued honor and decorum spoke up.
"That was a rather harsh statement."
Another Royal Guard, who enjoyed dissecting strategy and tactics, chimed in.
"Is his goal to deliberately insult his opponent to provoke them and disrupt their composure?"
Rierban, however, thought entirely differently.
'No, I'm pretty sure he's just saying whatever the hell is on his mind.'
Among the Royal Guard present, his insight was by far the sharpest.
"Next," Enkrid called out.
"Might as well get the beating over with."
Yet another Royal Guard muttered under his breath and stepped up to face him.
It was a man with an incredibly gentle face, who hadn't lost his smile even after watching his own Commander get brutally laid out.
WHACK!
This time, the fight ended with a single punch before the man could even properly raise his training spear, forcing him to collapse right where he stood.
Closing the distance in a microscopic fraction of a second, Enkrid delivered a light, snapping punch that sent another soldier violently rolling across the dirt.
He was knocked completely unconscious.
"A severe lack of tension. Moving him to the Ambush Countermeasures conditioning course."
"Oh, that sounds fun."
Rem expressed his absolute satisfaction.
The 'Ambush Countermeasures' conditioning literally involved having the absolute life beaten out of you while you stood perfectly still, specifically training your body not to pass out from sudden trauma.
Physical strength conditioning simply required tossing a massive boulder onto someone's shoulders and making them overwork their body to the limit, so Rem didn't even need to use his own hands for that.
Rem heavily preferred training methods that involved physically beating someone to a pulp so he could actually enjoy the tactile sensation of the impact.
Of course, he only enjoyed it when he was the one doing the beating.
"This is far too excessive. We came here to have our skills evaluated and to learn a thing or two from him, yet he's just indiscriminately beating the life out of everyone. Even for a Knight, isn't he acting far too recklessly?"
It wouldn't have been strange for someone to blurt out a complaint exactly like that, yet hilariously, every single person present kept their mouths completely shut.
Because the terrifying infamy the Madmen Knights had amassed up to this point was far too towering to casually spit such nonsense.
Furthermore, hadn't they all recently witnessed that apocalyptic battle right in front of the city walls?
A battle where literal lightning rained from the sky, the heavens roared in terror, and the very earth violently shook as if an earthquake had struck?
There was hardly anyone standing in this training ground who hadn't witnessed that exact fight.
"It has been a while, Sir."
Next up was Rierban.
Enkrid explicitly remembered his name.
He was the man who had actively cleared the surroundings and protected him back when Enkrid was essentially begging for swordsmanship lessons on the streets of the Kingdom.
Furthermore, Enkrid also clearly remembered the unwavering resolve and chivalry Rierban had displayed when they sparred during the grueling civil war and the chaotic events that followed.
Whoosh.
Rierban barely managed to catch the trajectory of the blade Enkrid swung.
Enkrid had likely meticulously adjusted the speed of the swing to precisely match Rierban's current limits.
CLANG!
The exact second he blocked the blade, a violent vibration shot from his wrist, straight through his elbow, past his shoulder, and rattled his very skull.
The reverberation was significantly more intense than when Enkrid had used his Wave-Breaker sword.
It wouldn't have been strange for him to violently vomit and completely pass out right then and there, but Rierban released a short, sharp exhale, forcefully clamped down on his wrist to physically sever the vibration, instantly re-centered his balance, hardened his resolve, and violently dragged his Will to the surface.
Concentrating that Will entirely into his wrists, he used the shaft of his spear to aggressively scatter the devastating kinetic vibration Enkrid had transferred into him.
'I have to deflect it.'
He softly deflected the crushing weight and endured the residual shockwaves using purely his heavily conditioned physical body.
Ever since sparring with Enkrid all those months ago, he had relentlessly put in the work.
He had painstakingly accumulated countless 'todays'.
"Pass."
Finally hearing that single word from Enkrid's lips brought him profound joy.
While speaking, Enkrid's foot abruptly moved.
Anticipating a low sweep, Rierban aggressively concentrated his strength into his legs, but the foot shot upward exactly like a soaring swallow.
Violently changing its angle from a low sweep to a high kick, it lashed out directly at his head.
Thwack.
The top of Enkrid's boot lightly brushed against the crown of his head, and Rierban's body immediately began to crumble.
However, he violently slammed the butt of his spear into the dirt and managed to keep himself standing once more.
His overall physical conditioning has definitely improved.
Enkrid thought to himself before speaking.
"Moving to the Technique Countermeasures conditioning course."
"Ooh."
Rem pursed his lips into a perfect 'O' shape, genuinely impressed.
After that, Enkrid continued the grueling sparring sessions without a single moment of rest, rapidly clearing out twenty men before finally facing Andrew.
"You've improved quite a bit."
Enkrid remarked, holding Today at a casual, slanted angle.
"I still have a very long way to go."
Andrew replied, gritting his teeth as he endured and aggressively shook off the subtle, suffocating pressure actively radiating from Enkrid.
How interesting.
Enkrid thought as he meticulously analyzed Andrew's technique.
He deflected, and then deflected again.
He softly redirected absolutely every incoming strike to explicitly create an opening in the opponent's guard.
Because he completely lacked any form of deception or trickery, he was the type to focus entirely and flawlessly on his pure swordsmanship.
Bastards exactly like him inevitably shatter their walls.
It was what Enkrid's primal instincts told him, and now, it was something he could confidently state as a proven, established theory.
'By explicitly recognizing his own limits and focusing entirely on the strengths he already possesses...'
He doesn't wander down countless different paths; he concentrates entirely on a single one.
He heavily prioritizes his specialty and relentlessly marches forward.
It is the absolute optimal mindset one can possess right before officially ascending to Knighthood.
If his skills experience an explosive surge from this point, he will naturally begin expanding outward again, like drawing a perfect circle—improving his overall technical repertoire and physical conditioning to perfectly match his newly elevated specialty.
After solidifying his foundation through that process, he will once again hone a single, hyper-specialized skill.
And then, he will simply repeat that cycle.
That is the true path to becoming a Knight.
The primary reason Andrew's swordsmanship was currently so heavily oriented toward soft deflection was largely thanks to constantly sparring with Aishia.
Enkrid perfectly saw through his entire developmental process and caught a clear glimpse of his future.
And then, he brutally crushed Andrew's sword using pure, overwhelming physical strength.
Just because he was genuinely impressed didn't mean he had any reason to go easy on him.
Utterly failing to deflect the crushing, catastrophic weight bearing down on him, a bizarre noise violently erupted from Andrew's lips.
"Gah!"
It was an unavoidable, pathetic sound caused purely by being physically overpowered and having the air violently crushed out of his lungs.
"Are you a duck?"
Hearing that sound, Rem mockingly asked.
A few of the Royal Guards who had barely managed to remain conscious without passing out couldn't hold it in and let out a few stifled pffts of laughter.
Because Viscount Gardener usually maintained an incredibly strict, unapproachable demeanor as the Commander of the City Guard, the sheer absurdity of the noise elicited genuine laughter.
"You bastards think this is funny?"
Seeing them laugh, Rem slowly raised his massive battleaxe.
These half-dead bastards actually have the energy to laugh?
The very last one to step up was Aishia.
The Will imbued within the exactly three strikes she could unleash was terrifyingly sharp and unbelievably heavy.
Enkrid simply kicked her squarely in the shin and gave his final verdict.
"You only have one thing left to do. From this exact moment forward, even when you eat and drink, you will actively use Will."
"What?"
"Instead of limiting yourself to three sword strikes, you can start by infusing your Will into exactly three stabs of your fork."
"Are you seriously telling me to use Will while eating a fucking salad?"
Enkrid didn't even bother nodding.
His expression clearly said, Why are you asking me something so painfully obvious?
"Goddamn it. If you say I have to do it, I guess I have to do it."
Aishia was incredibly close to officially reaching Knighthood.
Whether that took one more step or two, and whether she would ultimately cross that threshold or completely fail, he didn't know.
But Enkrid genuinely believed that she, too, would eventually become a true Knight.
***
And so, only after he had ruthlessly tormented every single person who came to him for three full days did the Empire's envoy finally arrive.
"We didn't come all this way to pick a fight, so I really have to ask why you all look like you're out for blood. Especially since we just fought our way through absolute hell just to get here."
The man standing at the absolute forefront of the Imperial Envoy was a highly familiar face to Enkrid.
Valpir Balmung; the absolute master of a terrifying aura that felt exactly like a massive club completely covered in jagged thorns.
Enkrid had briefly traveled with him after leaving the Yohan House, and together, they had hunted down an Imperial deserter.
He was Knight who had truly surpassed the wall.
By Enkrid's terrifying standards, he was a genuine powerhouse where arbitrarily classifying him as beginner, intermediate, or advanced was entirely meaningless.
To formally receive the Envoy, Krang, Marcus, and the Duke of the Fertile Lands had stepped forward together, with the Royal Guard standing firmly behind them.
Thanks to being ruthlessly beaten and conditioned by Enkrid for the past few days, every single one of them was radiating a razor-sharp, lethal aura.
That was exactly what prompted Valpir's comment.
Honestly, looking at them, it really did look as if they were fully prepared to launch a preemptive strike.
Enkrid shared that exact sentiment.
Valpir Balmung narrowed his eyes.
If they were actually picking a fight, he absolutely didn't look like he had any intention of backing down.
Krais meticulously analyzed the situation: the Envoy's scale wasn't particularly large, they hadn't dragged any massive merchant caravans behind them, and judging by their torn and tattered clothes, they had clearly engaged in heavy combat recently.
Setting aside the minor details, one glaring fact stood out above all else.
What exactly did those filthy, ruined clothes and the lingering stench of burnt flesh signify?
'They were ambushed on their way here.'
By who?
What a stupid question.
It was obviously either Astrael or demonic minions.
Valpir Balmung aggressively flared his terrifying aura to its absolute limit before slowly reigning it back in.
Then, he spoke.
"If you actually intended to attack, you would have charged us the moment we arrived. I will ask you directly, King of Naurillia. Do you stand with the Demonic Realms?"
While Enkrid didn't know the man named Valpir Balmung intimately, he knew perfectly well that the man absolutely did not excel at delicately calculating the political ramifications of his words.
He swung his question exactly like he swung his massive club, and Krang answered directly.
"I stand with myself."
What exactly was the true meaning hidden within such an incredibly simple answer?
It was an absolute declaration of Will—that he would never bow his head easily to the crushing pressure of the Empire, and that regardless of whatever apocalyptic schemes the Demonic Realms hatched, he would ruthlessly protect what was his.
That Will blazed exactly like a roaring inferno.
"Looks like you guys had quite the brutal fight on your way here too," Duke Marcus remarked.
Balmung simply shrugged his massive shoulders.
His gesture essentially meant, Isn't it painfully obvious just by looking at us?
While listening to the exchange, the Commander of the Royal Guard never once lowered his guard, yet he deliberately avoided adopting an overtly aggressive stance.
Exactly as the Imperial Knight had stated, their King had not officially declared these men as enemies.
The Envoy absolutely hadn't come here to start a war, and Krang certainly wasn't looking to start one right this second either.
During that brief lull in the conversation...
"Are we going to fight again?"
From directly behind Balmung, a man impeccably dressed in a sharp suit revealed a head of curly blonde hair and spoke up.
With slightly drooping eyes, he wore a crisp shirt and a tailored coat, and he held a perfectly straight, pitch-black cane that seemed to glisten and reflect the light.
'A spellcaster.'
He was a Mage.
Enkrid instantly recognized exactly what the man was.
The man, looking visibly exhausted, stared in their direction.
And then, he suddenly locked eyes with Esther.
"You."
The man's eyes violently widened the exact moment he saw her.
They know each other.
Enkrid thought as he silently observed the man.
"You're still alive?"
Esther asked, her voice laced with pure, unadulterated curiosity.
Because her tone heavily implied, Why the hell are you still breathing when you obviously should be dead?, Enkrid instantly assumed this bastard must be another one of those lunatics who had previously attacked Esther spouting absolute nonsense about the stars.
His hand naturally drifted down to the hilt of his sword.
"Hey."
Sensing that subtle movement, Valpir instantly placed a hand on his own massive club.
Rem, a man who absolutely refused to back down from a display of fighting spirit, happily chimed in.
"If you draw that, you're dead."
Right before the situation completely devolved into an absolute bloodbath, Krang spoke up.
"Lady Esther, is that man an enemy?"
First and foremost, they needed to explicitly establish his exact classification.
"No."
Esther replied simply.
Since she clearly had absolutely no intention of elaborating on their history, she clamped her mouth shut.
However, the curly-haired blonde Mage spoke up instead.
"Esther, it seems we truly are bound by fate. Didn't I explicitly tell you we would meet again? We are absolutely destined to be together. We are a perfect pair, handpicked by the Goddess of Luck herself."
Enkrid slowly lowered his hand from his hilt, only to immediately place it right back on it.
No matter how he listened to it, that sounded exactly like a direct provocation.
All that bullshit about 'destiny' and 'fate' sounded worse than an actual string of vicious curses.
"Hey. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Valpir, who had just lowered his guard, snapped in profound irritation as he watched Enkrid aggressively flare his killing intent again.
That single, irritated sentence was heavily laden with a multitude of highly complex emotions.
The primary reason he had personally volunteered to join the Envoy was specifically to leverage his own overwhelming martial prowess to forcefully tilt the atmosphere in their favor.
Yet...
'This absolute bastard...'
In the short time they hadn't seen each other, the lethal aura radiating from Enkrid had grown terrifyingly sharper.
He was completely unbothered by anyone else's presence, casually and effortlessly dominating the suffocating tension flowing between the two groups entirely on his own whims.
It was an absolute masterclass in psychological warfare, executed simply by placing his hand on his hilt and taking it off again.
Right now, in this exact moment, in this exact place, his presence was overwhelmingly the most dominant.
To Balmung, this was completely outside his calculations.
When they had parted ways in Yohan, Enkrid's presence certainly hadn't felt this terrifyingly refined or overwhelmingly solid.
Just as Balmung was about to aggressively glare at him again, Enkrid naturally and effortlessly completely retracted his killing intent.
"Then let us head inside and continue this conversation."
The exact moment he did, Krang spoke.
Enkrid's perfectly timed, completely docile shift in demeanor made it look exactly as if he had flawlessly predicted exactly what his King was going to say next.
***
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