Chapter 953 - Engraving
Aetri watched Enkrid, a man so utterly devoted to his training he spent an entire year as if it were a single day, and listened to his stories.
He became completely engrossed and immersed in the man's life, and he raised his hammer to forge a weapon truly worthy of him.
His heart moved naturally, and he struck the steel.
Every single morning, precisely at the crack of dawn, he hammered the iron, managing his own body meticulously to ensure he was always in peak condition.
'I must always be in peak condition.'
Only then would the creation born from his hands be its absolute best.
Aetri established that ironclad rule and strictly adhered to it.
When he forged his previous sword, he had literally pushed his body to the breaking point, but he did not do so this time.
Therefore, just hammering the raw iron that would become the sword's material took several months.
He painstakingly beat the high-quality iron until it satisfied him, and then spent even more time carefully shaping it.
He was not bound by time.
He did not care about rushing to the finish line.
He devoted himself entirely to living each 'today' to the fullest.
"Master, Sir Enkrid has returned."
Even when his apprentice delivered the news, his concentration didn't waver in the slightest.
He simply did what he always did.
'Exactly the same, every single day.'
He had never counted, but the number of hammer strikes he swung each day was always roughly the same.
He hammered, and hammered, and hammered for months.
Only then did the shape finalize, and upon that finalized shape, he poured his heart.
If Enkrid had witnessed Aetri's forging process, he would have undoubtedly said that Will was being infused into it.
Aetri hammered the sword with pure intent.
Forgetting time, forgetting himself, he poured everything he desired into the blade.
"That's it? You're finished?"
It was his apprentice.
He looked utterly bewildered upon hearing the work was done.
Outwardly, it looked incredibly ordinary, but it didn't matter.
Only one person needed to recognize the true value of this sword, and that was more than enough.
***
The reason his inner mental landscape took the form of a riverbank was likely because he had met the Ferryman in his dreams so often.
There was no need to look around.
Pebbles lined the ground, and on one side, a tranquil river gently washed ashore like waves, sweeping up a few pebbles before depositing them back.
Right in front of Enkrid stood what could only be called the incarnation of the sword.
The sword that Aetri had forged, using his soul as a hammer and his flesh as an anvil, was staring back at him.
With deep blue eyes and pitch-black hair, the figure wore nothing but a thin, black fleece garment.
The front of the garment was open, revealing prominent, well-defined pectoral muscles.
Was it just an illusion that the clothing he wore looked as hard as solid stone or metal?
From his shoulders down his back, the fabric flowed like a thin cape.
Only after the pale-green cape fully wrapped around the figure's body did the man—who looked exactly like him—finally speak.
"Nice to meet you."
Enkrid quietly observed the figure before him.
It was innocent.
A pristine cleanliness untouched by the world; it brought to mind a pure white snowfield.
'Whatever color it is dyed in...'
It becomes that color.
It felt like a newborn child.
'That's not a wrong description, either.'
The blade had been sharpened, but it had never cut anything.
The sword's name was 'Today', an Engraved Weapon perfectly attuned to Enkrid's own Will.
"What will you cut?" the figure asked again.
As he asked, the fleece garment on the man's body transformed into a blade.
A thin, slender blade.
The sheer sharpness radiating from it made Night Stroll look like a joke.
Simultaneously, it felt as though if it started running, it would be faster than anything else in the world.
Even without stepping closer, the sheer momentum radiating from the sword left a shallow cut on Enkrid's cheek.
"Or shall we crush them instead?"
With those words, the figure transformed again.
This was a mental landscape.
Before Enkrid could even perceive the change, he was faced with the result.
The lethal sharpness vanished without a trace, replaced by a man so massive even Audin would have to look up at him.
The fleece garment now looked like a solid block cast from pure Black Gold.
It had grown incredibly thick and indestructible.
"Shall we corner them and lock them away so they can't do a single thing?"
With that sentence, it shifted once more.
This time, the fleece garment transformed into iron bars that completely surrounded him.
Between the bars, an eye-shaped crest materialized, as if scrutinizing everything in existence.
"Living as the flow takes us isn't bad either."
The fleece garment on the softly smiling man morphed into fluffy, floating down feathers.
Even if a giant swung a mace at it, they would likely only feel an overwhelming softness.
"Honestly, I'm not a sword, nor am I anything special. I'm just a piece of metal. A completely harmless piece of metal."
With its final words, the figure in the fleece garment crouched down, suddenly appearing incredibly small and insignificant.
No matter how he looked at it, the mental imagery of the sword right now was simply a reflection of his own true nature.
He could feel it: hidden beneath that crouched fleece garment was a blade honed to a razor's edge.
Fast and sharp, heavy and destructive, meticulous and tenacious, smoothly flowing, endlessly deceiving.
'Today.'
That was the sword's name.
Why had Aetri named it 'Today'?
What did 'Today' mean?
'The end of the day.'
The end of the day.
Therefore, this blade is the boundary of a single day.
'A day that can become anything.'
Some will waste this 'today'.
Others will endure a 'today' more agonizing than anything they've faced before.
And for someone else, it might become the happiest day of their entire life.
But the vast majority will experience a 'today' exactly like their 'yesterday'.
Upon realizing the name bestowed upon the sword, he understood exactly what the sword was capable of.
Enkrid stepped out of his mental landscape.
The blade no longer trembled.
The perfectly straight blade reveled in the silence.
But that was fine.
Whenever necessary, it would move exactly as its master desired.
"Yeah, nice to meet you."
Enkrid opened his mouth.
He was speaking to the sword.
It was a response to someone else's greeting.
Since there were only two people here, and neither of them had initiated the conversation, the one who actually spoke first must have been the sword.
It was a simple but logical conclusion.
At least, that was how it appeared to Esther.
To her, Enkrid's encounter with his Engraved Weapon didn't seem particularly dramatic.
He simply grabbed the sword and suddenly said, 'Nice to meet you,' out of nowhere.
She was a witch who wielded spells.
In her eyes, that was not a magic sword.
"Is it an Ego Sword?" Esther asked.
Occasionally, blacksmiths who surpassed greatness and mastered magical metals managed to breathe a genuine consciousness into a sword.
There were swords that vibrated upon sensing malice, and swords that pointed true north even in the darkest, sunless forests.
In reality, the vast majority of swords that actually 'spoke' were possessed by lingering grudges, making most Ego Swords closer to cursed weapons.
"It is not."
Aetri knew exactly what kind of sword he had forged.
He had hammered it perfectly, poured his soul into it, and designed it to perfectly harmonize with its master's Will in any form.
That was why he hadn't mixed True Silver and Black Gold, but instead tracked down the absolute purest True Iron to forge it.
It was not a sword with an ego.
Yet, the fact that Enkrid was conversing with it was likely due to a profound, instinctual resonance.
Esther watched in silence.
It was an entertaining spectacle, after all.
Enkrid lowered the sword and shifted his gaze.
His eyes swept past Aetri's hands.
As with any master blacksmith, his hands were completely covered in scars and calluses.
Whenever he spoke, his tone never overflowed with arrogant confidence or blind faith.
An artisan who crafts tools is not an artist.
He had simply forged the sword that best suited the man who would wield it.
"I humbly accept it."
Enkrid declared.
"I crafted the scabbard using the Black Gold sent by the Black Flower over there, and the magical thread sent from the city of Kiraheis," Aetri added, stating the facts as if it were entirely natural.
"Excellent work," Esther chimed in.
In actuality, she had gone through the trouble of alloying True Silver and Black Gold, binding them with spells to create a specialized magical metal, and she had initially thought he hadn't touched it at all.
The scabbard was dark green.
It was a color so deep that its subtle green hue only truly revealed itself under direct sunlight.
Enkrid slid the sword into the scabbard.
The sensation of the blade locking into place with a crisp click was so satisfying it sent shivers down his spine.
Leaving aside the fact that it was an Engraved Weapon, the sheer craftsmanship and flawless finish alone were more than enough to label it a masterpiece among masterpieces.
'Aetri.'
Enkrid marveled internally time and time again.
Without chanting a single line of a spell, he had forged a sword as incredible as any magical weapon.
This current Engraved Weapon was a sword that would be completely useless without Uske.
'You could say it is a sword existing solely to wield Will.'
That was what 'Today' was.
Stripped of all magic and spells, it was a blade and a hilt that existed for Will, accepted Will, and weaponized Will.
That fact radiated from its unadorned finish and every single element of its design.
Just by holding it for a few moments, he sharply felt the biggest difference between this and any other sword he had ever wielded.
'It consumes Will endlessly.'
It was a sword that resembled him; a sword that swallowed Will as quickly as he poured it in, as if perfectly resonating with the Uske within his own body.
***
"That thing? The new sword?"
When he returned to the Knight Order's training grounds, it wasn't strange that Rem and everyone else immediately showed immense interest.
The lowest-ranking soldier who used to squeeze his eyes shut in terror at flying blades and arrows was now the knight and Captain who completely overpowered them all.
They had always known his underlying 'vessel' was different, but so much had changed since then.
It was only natural that their level of interest skyrocketed as well.
"Yeah."
Enkrid replied and drew the sword.
The vicious sharpness characteristic of Night Stroll was absent, as was the feather-lightness of Penna.
"Well, you wanna test it out?"
Rem stepped up first.
He swung his axe, and Enkrid raised his sword to receive it.
Reflexively feinting with the direction of his toe, Enkrid thrust his sword.
However, reacting with instantaneous speed, Rem saw through the feint and swung his axe.
Compared to their spar a few days ago, this was essentially just a light warm-up, yet for the spectators, there was arguably even more to learn from this exchange.
"Hmm, using reaction speed to completely neutralize a feint," Clemen muttered.
Aurelia, standing beside her, added, "He's also anticipating the feint from the very beginning and launching his axe first."
Regardless of what the spectators were chattering about, Enkrid felt absolutely zero need to 'adjust' to his new sword.
'It feels like a sword I've been swinging my entire life.'
Even though it was technically a sword he had held for the very first time today.
That was how familiar and perfect it felt in his hand.
Starting from the leather wrapping on the grip, not a single detail was the same as before, yet it felt perfect.
If Night Stroll thrashed violently in his grip like a Demon Sword, 'Today' felt like an actual extension of his own body.
"Man, this feels weird."
Rem grunted as he swung his axe horizontally.
The senses of a barbarian who wielded shamanic arts were sharper than ever before.
He could instinctively tell that Enkrid's Engraved Weapon felt fundamentally different from anyone else's.
Jaxen, who had been watching from the sidelines, felt the exact same way.
The moment Rem ended the spar and stepped back with a short comment, several streaks of light shot out from Jaxen's hands.
His hands had clearly been empty, yet in the blink of an eye, he had drawn and thrown several blades aiming for Enkrid's chest, stomach, and thigh.
The three blades flew with staggered timing.
The one aiming for the chest flew in a straight line; the one aiming for the thigh curved sharply.
The blade targeting the stomach flew at a speed right between the two.
Enkrid accelerated his thoughts and expanded his perception.
The sharply honed net of his senses captured the incoming blades, and he raised his sword, deflecting all three.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
"You sneaky bastard, without a word of warning?"
Rem spat out a complaint aimed at Jaxen.
The bastard had always moved without making a sound, but after their previous spars, he had gotten even worse.
Now, he was casually launching attacks with absolutely zero presence or precursors.
The throwing knives he just launched felt exactly like that.
Enkrid let Rem's complaint go in one ear and out the other.
He didn't even have time to respond.
As he deflected the three blades, 'Today' stuck to his palm so perfectly it felt like he was holding a slender tree branch.
As the sword endlessly absorbed his Will, the properties of the blade transformed to match the shifting Will within him.
It became light, and therefore, it became fast.
After throwing the three knives, Jaxen had instantly circled behind Enkrid and swung a dagger down vertically.
Even a seasoned knight would have found it near impossible to track that movement, but Enkrid pivoted a half-turn on his left foot and swung his sword to counter.
Ting.
The blades seemed to clash, but the dagger smoothly parried 'Today' and curved downward, slicing at an angle.
'A flowing sword.'
He had seamlessly blended a flowing sword technique into a blindingly fast strike to use as an offensive attack.
Was this Jaxen's hidden trump card?
Because Enkrid perceived it, parrying it wasn't difficult.
His Will transformed.
It shifted to draw a perfectly unyielding, straight line.
He moved his sword as if every single variable was completely within his calculations.
He erected a prison of blades.
It was a derivative technique of Killing Embers: the Blade Prison.
If Killing Embers focused on extinguishing an attack at its inception, the Blade Prison trapped and crushed an attack that had already begun.
Grasping two daggers, Jaxen spun rapidly in place.
Dozens of blades flew out in sync with his rotation.
Enkrid relentlessly deflected every single one of them, driving them straight into the dirt of the training grounds.
"Hmph."
Jaxen let out a short groan and backed away.
Immediately after, Audin's Love and Mercy closed in from behind.
His footfalls were as utterly silent as Jaxen's.
Yet, the sheer weight behind them was suffocating.
It felt as if a landslide had triggered, and a mountain of earth was crashing down on his back.
Enkrid's 'Today' shifted its properties once again.
It became heavy and blunt, and he layered the Wave over it.
Vwoooom.
The blade hummed violently as it whipped backward, violently striking Love and Mercy.
The sheer force packed into that simple horizontal slash felt capable of cleaving a mountain ridge in half.
Right before the blade struck his gauntlets, Audin abruptly retreated.
He stayed true to his instincts.
He judged that clashing head-on right now would only result in a loss.
Audin ended his turn with that, and Ragna instantly drew Sunrise to split Enkrid's skull open.
Swoosh—!
The heat-infused blade cleaved through Enkrid, only for him to scatter like a mirage.
It was an afterimage left behind by blindingly fast footwork.
From just past the fading afterimage, a single point shot forward, aiming straight for Ragna's forehead.
Ragna blocked the thrust with the flat of Sunrise.
CLANG!
The sharp crack of steel colliding rang out brightly.
The moment he blocked it, Ragna smoothly reversed his grip on Sunrise, thrust forward, and swung.
Even techniques that resembled chaotic brawling became something entirely different when Ragna used them.
He shifted from a reverse grip back to a standard grip, swinging the sword as if throwing it with his entire body.
The explosive heat housed within Sunrise swept violently across the area.
It was a blazing windmill of blades ripping through the air horizontally and vertically.
"That crazy bastard," Rem muttered again from the back.
Enkrid's sword followed his Will, transforming to become as soft and fluid as silk.
He twirled the blade continuously, trapping the explosive heat erupting from Sunrise and redirecting it straight up into the sky.
Fwoooosh—!
A column of scorching air shot upward.
Ragna also stopped his assault at that point.
"He became even more of a monster."
Rem's assessment was the definitive conclusion.
There was a saying among swordsmen: when a warrior wields a weapon perfectly tailored to their hands, their true skill finally reveals itself, making them look vastly improved.
That exactly described Enkrid right now.
"Hmm."
It was a moment to marvel at Aetri all over again.
It endlessly absorbed his Will and instantly altered its properties to counter any attack exactly as he desired.
It truly felt as if the blade had become a second version of himself, fighting alongside him.
If the previous Engraved Weapon he wielded had been a masterpiece that stuck perfectly to his hand...
This was simply...
'Another me.'
He finally understood in his very bones what an Engraved Weapon—a weapon inscribed with one's own essence—truly was.
"Captain, we have a guest. How should we proceed?" a soldier approached and asked, right as the testing concluded.
"Who is it?" Clemen asked, only turning her head.
"They say they've come to issue a challenge."
The monikers Demonic Realm Slayer and Beelrog Slayer were rapidly spreading together.
Though the title Demonic Knight remained the most widely known among them.
Even so, in this current situation, someone specifically seeking him out for a duel was incredibly rare.
"They said they came specifically to challenge Captain Enkrid."
If it had been just any ordinary opponent, they would have been stopped and turned away by the guards at the gate.
The fact that the message had reached them here meant this opponent was anything but ordinary.
"Bring them in."
To Enkrid, such visits were always welcome.
***
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