Chapter 720 - Together We Rise
After coming to Yohan, Enkrid learned a few techniques, but the most unique among them was the ability to handle Will.
Of course, he had seen something similar even within the Madmen Unit.
Didn't Rem do the same?
'Transference of Will.'
That was the technique Rem used to wield Will—severing pieces of it and embedding them into projectiles.
It was a realm unattainable without reaching the level of a knight.
Even as a junior knight, one could only barely manage to infuse a bit of Will for single-use techniques.
Thus, naturally, only knights could properly use it, and it was far harder than simply moving one's body.
Ironically, though, for Enkrid, mastering this control of Will was twice as easy as learning physical techniques.
With an inexhaustible Will, he was in perfect condition for repeated training.
Of course, it wasn't something he could learn just by dozing off and half-heartedly going through the motions, but Enkrid was the kind of man who gave his all to anything he tried.
And if he had even a fragment of talent for something, learning it became thrilling.
Controlling Will was certainly difficult—but he enjoyed it so much that he was completely absorbed.
To be honest, even when practicing restraint and control, he poured out Will without holding back.
He repeatedly pushed himself until his seemingly bottomless Will was drained dry and he felt a sensation close to exhaustion.
Along the way, he received quite a bit of help.
"You're not just using it—you have to be able to transform it at will."
That was what Rhinox once told him about handling Will.
And Alexandra demonstrated something similar as well.
The two were the most exceptional Will-users in all of Yohan.
Rhinox's method was like a flawless performance on an instrument—not a single mistake allowed when applying or retracting force.
He would separate only the necessary amount of Will with perfect precision—pure restraint.
Enkrid modeled his own restraint after Rhinox's technique.
However, restraint was relatively harder.
It required constant, razor-sharp focus to control Will.
It was like carrying a bowl filled to the brim with water without spilling a single drop.
If you walked carefully enough, you could manage it, but even the slightest misstep would spill water all over the floor.
And in his case, he wasn't just walking carefully—he was fighting in that state.
Naturally, Enkrid did spill a few drops.
If he were being more honest, it would be fair to say he spilled enough to soak himself.
Controlling Will was that difficult for him.
In contrast, Alexandra's method was entirely different.
If restraint was "relatively" difficult, that relativity came from comparing it to Alexandra's way.
'Setting fire to a wild horse's tail.'
A wild horse with its tail on fire would sprint with terrifying speed.
There would be no thought to conserve strength or plan ahead—only the urgent need to outrun the flames licking at its back.
It was the same as sprinting at full speed down a steep slope: much faster than running on flat ground but far harder to control.
Yet Alexandra embraced a style that threw control to the wind.
While Rhinox focused on shaping Will, Alexandra tampered with its speed.
The faster Will erupted from her, the faster the sword in her hand moved.
And because of his inexhaustible Will, it was far easier to let it flow freely than to try controlling it.
The sheer volume of it practically forced that style.
Hence, control was difficult—but that made restraint all the more entertaining.
It was the joy of endurance, in a way.
Enkrid knew how to suppress his immediate urges for the sake of a greater joy later on.
And now, it was time for him to seize that greater joy.
The fire burning inside him was no longer just consuming remnants—it had turned into a stampede, charging through his body.
It was hot.
His hands, his feet, even his head—everything burned.
'Explosion.'
Enkrid repeated just that single word.
If Rhinox's Will was restraint, Alexandra's was explosion.
'Detonate.'
As his Will surged through him, Enkrid took off, his foot pressing against Ragna's shoulder.
He sprinted forward, lifting his head to meet the path ahead.
Before the erupting Will, Medusa's petrifying curse meant absolutely nothing.
And it truly didn't.
The curse of the Medusa was useless—Will of Denial formed a shield twice as large as usual, deflecting everything.
His toes caught on a scale.
Using the jagged, blade-like scales as steps, he bent his knees and leapt upward.
The stairway was rough.
But wasn't it the rough paths he had always enjoyed most?
And honestly, this wasn't even that rough.
There was no room for stray thoughts.
He couldn't even fully employ the enhanced perception he had acquired upon becoming a knight—the kind that made the world seem to slow down.
Normally, the air around him felt as thick and heavy as a swamp, but now, it felt perfectly normal.
That's how light his body felt—he was on the verge of omnipotence.
He stepped, pushed off, and soared higher, weightless.
If a poet had seen him, they might have called it the ascent of an Imoogi, climbing against all odds.
Kyaaaaak!
Medusa threw her head down and opened her mouth.
A green, toxic mist sprayed out, scattering rain droplets as it spread into a thick, rounded wall before him.
Enkrid held his breath and gripped Samcheol tighter in his hand.
Trddd—chiiiiiiing.
It sounded like something heard underwater.
The sound felt distant, as if blocked by an invisible barrier.
Crack.
The scabbard split apart.
With brutal force, Samcheol's blade shattered the sheath as he drew the sword.
Enkrid's blade shot toward the Medusa's neck.
Even with his perception heightened to terrifying speeds, the blade was faster.
"You crazy bastard."
Ana Hera, who had lost her balance but was getting back up, witnessed what Enkrid had done.
It just so happened that she had advanced through the monster horde, giving her a clear view.
Not just her—everyone could see it.
No one here was dull enough to miss the presence of the Medusa that had been spreading the petrification curse from up ahead.
How could anyone miss it when he was dancing with a sword atop it?
Medusa had focused her petrification curse solely on Enkrid, giving the others some breathing room.
Everyone saw it.
They saw the figure who had stepped on the Medusa's tail, soared upward, and, bursting through the scabbard, drew his sword and swung it like a bolt of lightning.
Even as he rose, it looked like lightning defying gravity, surging skyward, and when he swung, it looked even more like that.
Lightning had taken form through the sword, cleaving at the monster's neck.
Bwooong!
A thunderous boom exploded, like a boulder hurled from a catapult crashing into a fortress wall.
Scales on the Medusa's neck stood erect like a shield, but Enkrid crushed through them with raw strength and tore into her neck.
Black blood gushed from the mangled flesh.
The light rain mixed with a black downpour.
Even so, the Medusa endured.
Was it because her neck hadn't been completely severed?
With a half-severed neck, she still spewed venom from her mouth, and the snakes that adorned her head surged downward, proving they were not just for show.
Ana Hera almost screamed out a warning without realizing it.
But there was no time.
Enkrid's sword moved like a madman's, drawing lines through the air.
The blade that had burst from its scabbard moved without rest, slicing through all the snakes lunging at him, and then finishing the job by cutting through the Medusa's neck.
Thuck!
Another chilling sound rang out, and the Medusa's head fell cleanly through the air.
A dying scream burst from the monster's mouth.
Kiaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Thud!
The head hit the ground.
Saaa—
Immediately, the ritual serpent writhing in the sky above blurred and faded.
Swoooooooosh!
Through the pouring rain, the Medusa's massive body toppled with a heavy crash.
And atop it, standing with his sword driven into the neck stump, was a man.
"You son of a bitch."
Ana Hera couldn't contain the shuddering thrill and let out a shriek.
Uoooooooh!
The giants' throats roared out.
"Uaaaah!"
Humans' cries joined them.
It was the collective roar of all those who had witnessed the sight.
It was natural.
In a single instant, he had reversed a battle that had seemed on the verge of tipping into disaster.
And then—behind the upright Enkrid—a large black mass flew toward him and exploded.
Boom!
His body was suddenly engulfed in black flames.
It was so unexpected that everyone froze, mouths agape.
What was that?
Why wasn't the fire going out even in the rain?
Questions crowded Ana Hera's mind.
Watching from the side, Alexandra found herself in the same confusion.
"Odincar."
"Yes, I see it too."
At the last moment, Odincar appeared behind her.
He had fought in her place.
The head of the family had ordered him to hide and wait for the next chance.
"It's because you spent too much time around Ragna. That's why you've been infected by him."
He had come to the battlefield saying just that.
"If words could stop me from coming to a fight, I wouldn't be a child of Yohan."
Alexandra had nodded in response.
After slicing and slashing through for a long while, they finally rescued Alexandra.
While securing her safety and staying alert to the surroundings, Enkrid severed Medusa.
Ragna's overwhelming presence earlier was no small factor, either.
The disappearance of the spell-serpent was a moment that gave hope to everyone.
But the one who had accomplished all of it was now engulfed in black flames.
Alexandra's body was already in an abnormal state.
Unleashing Will put a heavy burden on the body — it meant severing nerves and tearing muscles.
Of course, if properly controlled, it could be used safely, but there was no time for that now.
"Guard this place, Odincar."
The family head, who had approached during all this, spoke.
Tempest Yohan — he slaughtered four monsters that had drawn near.
Each of them was strong enough to kill a knight individually, yet the family head endured.
Rhinox was also severely wounded, and though his face was pale, he was still walking on his own.
"I'm coming too."
They were people who would not listen even if told to rest.
Odincar wanted to tell them both to stay, but he knew it wasn't the kind of situation where that was possible.
"It seems only right that I should go," he said instead.
But then came the response.
"This is an order. Guard this place. I'm going to look into the face of the man who tormented my family for twenty years. I won't yield."
The family head spoke firmly and turned his body.
Even then, Enkrid was still wrapped in black flames.
***
No matter how relatively simple it was said to be to learn how to wield Will, it was not something the body could master instantly.
Restraint, explosion — both required discipline.
It was something that needed to be researched and tempered over time, but Enkrid had forcibly drawn it out.
'It hurts.'
The pain had flooded his entire body ever since the moment he only managed to half-sever Medusa's neck with a single blow.
'Not yet.'
He could still endure.
The raging Will continued to run rampant inside him, like wild horses yearning for freedom.
Enkrid granted them that freedom.
He consumed Will continuously, swinging his sword.
Balancing in midair, he cut off the serpent's flying heads, then used the silver blade to finish severing Medusa's head.
And for a brief instant — he lost consciousness.
It was an incredibly short gap, but enough for the ferryman to push his face close.
Before he could even feel the sway of the river, the ferryman standing at the edge of the boat spoke.
"If you do this one more time, do you think you'll do it better? Do you really believe luck will be on your side again?"
There was neither malice nor kindness in the ferryman's brief, heavy words — only a flat tone that discussed reality.
It was a warning that repeating today would not guarantee the same outcome.
Before Enkrid could even answer, his mind snapped back to reality.
The ferryman's figure at the boat's edge had vanished almost instantly.
It might have been less than the blink of an eye.
Standing atop Medusa's corpse, Enkrid planted his blade near the severed neck.
No matter how he tried, he couldn't move immediately.
He needed at least a few moments to catch his breath, to rally his strength.
And just at that moment, a sharp stench rushed into his nose.
'Spell.'
He sensed it — but too late.
A black mass came flying from behind and exploded.
Fwoooosh.
Flames engulfed his entire body.
Normally, it should have been scorching and agonizing — but it wasn't.
Instead, Enkrid saw a soft green light wrapping around him.
From that light came the fragrance of Shinar —the scent of dense forests and the refreshing coolness of early morning dew.
Crisp.
Enkrid felt the fairy-forged underclothes he wore inside crumble away.
The fabric dried and disintegrated like brittle autumn leaves, leaving a rough sensation directly against his skin.
But in exchange, he managed to escape the black flames.
Throwing his body backward, he rolled across the ground, somehow keeping his balance.
Even so, it felt as if screams erupted from every corner of his battered body.
Blood streamed from the hand gripping Samcheol tightly.
Even if you made a small mistake with restraint, you'd just spill a few drops, but once you unleashed an explosion and failed to control it properly, it was like shredding your muscles with a blade.
At this point, maybe it was a miracle his bones weren't broken.
This pain was insane.
On top of that, he felt an overwhelming loss of strength.
If you used it recklessly without regulation, it would practically be a suicidal technique.
If one got drunk on the feeling of omnipotence and kept firing off Will without thinking, their body would end up riddled with holes, bleeding out until they died.
You didn't need any special insight to predict that fate.
"Is that a fairy's artifact?"
The voice belonged to an old man with an eye embedded in his forehead.
Beside him stood a young woman with a horn protruding from her brow, and behind them was a grotesque monster—like someone had sloppily slapped flesh onto a skeleton under a heavy robe.
Yes, monster was the right word.
Calling that thing a human would be an insult to all intelligent beings.
"You really managed to bring down a Medusa, huh. Hescal was so confident… and look how that turned out."
Only the old man spoke.
The creature behind him merely shifted its bulging eyeball between Enkrid and Ragna, as if judging them.
No one needed to spell it out—it was obvious who he was.
"Nice to meet you, Dmule."
Enkrid opened his mouth, ignoring the old man and addressing the monster directly.
The rotten spirit lodged in the decaying flesh stirred and spoke.
"Yeah."
Even the voice reeked of rot.
"Suppose I should introduce myself."
Enkrid coughed up blood mid-sentence.
His guts throbbed miserably—his body was wrecked—but this, he had to say.
"I'm just one swordsman."
And the man influenced by Enkrid chimed in beside him.
"I'm just swordsman two."
Holding back another cough, Ragna completed the mockery for his enemy's benefit.
"Together, we make just two swordsmen."
When the opportunity to mock your enemy came, how could you resist letting your tongue run free?
"...You crazy bastards."
Dmule's voice was soaked with disbelief—and for a moment, a whiff of humanity clung to the rotting thing.
***
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