Chapter 620 - The Four Seasons of the Fairy
"Am I just a boulder to you? Do you think you can just swing at me, and I'll let you hit me?"
That was the core of what Rem often shouted during their sparring sessions.
A Walking Fire had no technique and couldn't move swiftly, making it easy to cut down.
But people were different.
Even if you poured all your Will into a single strike, it meant nothing unless it landed.
Sure, you could strike with force.
But what if your opponent dodged or deflected it?
"You're too slow!"
This was where Rem pushed Enkrid the hardest.
It was about accelerating thought for instantaneous judgment.
It was about infusing Will into a fleeting moment.
Rem insisted that all of this was necessary and demonstrated it—not just with words but with actions.
Though, to be fair, his explanations often came first, delivered with the fervor of a zealot.
In the end, however, his actions were far more persuasive.
"Listen carefully. If you throw a rock and your opponent dodges, what happens?
You lose both the strength you used and the rock itself.
So, it's good that you've cut down a Walking Fire or a Crawling Flame, but that alone isn't enough."
Enkrid listened intently.
He understood the gist of it but thought it didn't need so many words.
"Fine.
Let's spar.
You can skip the explanations."
"How much simpler do you want me to make it?"
Of course, there were a hundred and one ways to explain it more concisely, but it wasn't worth debating.
And so, the sparring continued.
Enkrid repeated the process for days, and each time he found it so thrilling that it sent shivers down his spine.
Rem's axe constantly disrupted Enkrid's sword and posture, and his relentless footwork prevented Enkrid from executing the same decisive strike that had cut down the Walking Fire.
"You need to be able to replicate that 'decisive strike' from any stance to even begin to be useful.
Sure, someone clueless might take a hit, but at the level of a typical knight, they'll see through you if you charge in recklessly."
According to Rem, channeling Will into a sword swing was like shouting a battle cry—it was loud and attention-grabbing.
If you screamed, everyone would hear you whether they wanted to or not.
Rem wasn't wrong.
"So, decide in an instant whether to split your Will or pour it all in."
This was an advanced version of what they had practiced against the Gray Hounds.
Cutting down momentum was possible by accelerating thought.
Rem argued that the same should apply when fighting knights.
From the sidelines, it was clear both teacher and student were enjoying themselves immensely.
The sparring matches between the two had an almost manic energy to them.
Even the Ferryman appeared in Enkrid's dreams to ask:
"Are you enjoying this?"
Instead of answering the obvious question, Enkrid tried to deduce the Ferryman's intent.
"Is the wall approaching?"
Despite not receiving an answer to his own question, the Ferryman responded calmly.
"Do I have a reason to tell you that?"
Hadn't he always revealed such things in advance?
Enkrid didn't argue.
Whether the wall was coming or not, it wouldn't change anything.
His resolve remained steadfast and unyielding.
"You didn't answer my question," the Ferryman remarked.
"It's exactly as it appears," Enkrid replied, implying that he pursued the thrill because it was fun.
After parting ways with the Ferryman, Enkrid couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the same being he'd met before.
The exterior was the same, but the essence felt different.
Still, it wasn't worth dwelling on.
Nothing would change even if he questioned it.
Enkrid simply continued his work—sparring with Rem for split-second decision-making, refining his strikes with Ragna to distribute Will, enduring grueling physical training with Audin, and honing his sensory perception with Jaxen.
His days were filled with relentless activity.
"Don't you want to feel the spring breeze?"
On an early afternoon when winter's chill still lingered, Shinar arrived.
The sky was overcast, but rays of sunlight pierced through, casting faint beams of light on the ground.
"It's midwinter."
"I know."
Enkrid understood that Shinar wasn't speaking of literal spring but something else entirely.
Recalling the phrase from a past conversation, he asked:
"You've said this before. What does it mean?"
"It's hard to explain in words," Shinar replied as she unsheathed her sword, Naidyr.
The sound of the blade sliding from its sheath was sharper and clearer than ever.
That sound carried a Will, as if to demand attention.
The sword glowed faintly with a greenish hue.
Though not blinding, its presence was undeniable.
It felt alive—imbued with vitality and motion, touching the realm of perception itself.
Whether it was thanks to his sensory training with Jaxen or simply Shinar's skill, Enkrid could distinctly sense the energy emanating from her blade—a crystallization of life and vitality.
"By focusing one's essence, such things become possible," Shinar said.
Her sword seemed to embody the budding leaves of spring.
'So that's why it's called the Leaf Blade,' Enkrid thought as he raised his own weapon.
His sword was one forged by Aetri.
On his back was a shortsword, and Spark hung loosely at his waist.
He wore no armor and had even set aside the cloth gauntlets he usually wrapped around his hands.
His body ached from days of intense training, muscles sore and bruises scattered across his frame.
Yet, he had no intention of refusing a duel with Shinar.
A faint smile played on Enkrid's lips.
Spring breeze—this must be a form of swordsmanship.
Shinar intended to demonstrate it.
The thought alone filled him with exhilaration.
To learn new swordsmanship from a fairy—what could be more thrilling?
It felt that way—a blade clearly slicing through the air toward him, yet as if it was floating gently like a leaf carried by the wind.
Enkrid did not ignore that sensation.
To overlook and dismiss what was perceived would mean he was unworthy of wielding intangible power.
Rem, Ragna, and Luagarne knew Enkrid's skill had advanced dramatically in recent days.
So, even when the next scene unfolded, they weren't particularly surprised.
Thud!
Shinar's blade tried to descend like a falling leaf, but before it could land as intended, its movement was restricted.
Enkrid raised his blade, striking upward and adjusting his strength to bind their swords together.
Regardless of the technique, a blade had to move for the next action to follow.
By locking it in place, the next step was rendered impossible.
It was as though he silenced someone intent on singing by clamping their mouth shut before they could even utter a sound.
Watching an opponent's technique unfold without interference was the act of a fool, akin to being a ghoul's friend—utterly idiotic.
Therefore, this wasn't a dishonorable move.
Only by doing his utmost to disrupt the opponent's technique could he genuinely witness the true power of a fairy's swordsmanship.
If their swordplay was thwarted this easily, it simply wasn't strong enough.
"Well done," said Shinar, without a trace of amusement, drawing her sword back to her chest.
Chime.
Their blades clashed a few more times before separating.
Though Enkrid tried to keep the bind intact, Shinar adeptly controlled the force of her blade, withdrawing it with finesse.
Her control over strength was so refined that even Rem, Ragna, or Audin would find it difficult to replicate.
The Leaf Blade quickly retreated.
Then, as Shinar had forewarned, a spring breeze seemed to blow—a warm gust more befitting spring than the crisp chill of winter sunlight.
Her strikes descended alongside the blades of her aura.
Enkrid sensed the faint trace of something touching his shoulder, even amidst the soft, flowing strikes.
Interesting...
Fairy Swordsmanship's Spring Breeze blended invisible slashes among the elegant lines of visible strikes.
These unseen attacks, of course, came from the aura blades.
Her blade, broad like a leaf, covered the front entirely.
Should he force his way through with strength?
Or evade and aim for her flank?
Both approaches seemed plausible.
Enkrid decided to try each in turn.
This was a clash of wills—raising and clashing with force.
Shinar was a master who deserved the title of a fairy knight.
Thus, defeating her in a single stroke was difficult.
But there was no need for that.
The two didn't try to overpower one another unnecessarily.
Instead, they showcased their techniques.
When he tried to break through, her leaf blade layered itself to block him.
When he aimed for the flank, her leaf blade wrapped around to guard her entire form.
Dodging with quick steps and countering with forceful strikes, Enkrid parried and defended.
"That's enough for today. Let's continue tomorrow," said Shinar after an intense bout, turning to leave without her usual jest.
"Not bad," remarked Rem.
"A defensive swordplay that suppresses fast, powerful strikes," added Ragna.
Enkrid nodded in agreement.
The next day, Shinar returned in the late afternoon.
"I'll show you Summer's Downpour."
"Sounds good," Enkrid replied.
There was no reason to refuse.
They began sparring again, but soon, Enkrid's eyes widened in surprise.
"Your sword changes?"
It was the sight of the Leaf Blade transforming into a long whip-like form that prompted his words.
Chiririririring!
As Shinar spoke of the downpour, her blade shimmered and stretched.
"A magic sword," Luagarne murmured.
The blade thinned and elongated, becoming a slender, whip-like sword.
The blade flexed, scattering light, and began raining down in earnest.
A torrent of blade strikes poured down from above.
Enkrid chose to block rather than evade. It was instinct—he sensed that if he dodged, the rain would follow him relentlessly.
Worse, attempting to flee would drain his strength, leaving him defenseless.
His sparring with Rem had not been in vain.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Had his sword been any less robust, it would have been nearly impossible to deflect the barrage.
Amidst the rain of strikes, a blue aura thrust toward him.
Yesterday, her aura had been green.
Today, it was blue.
Swift and precise, her attacks danced in accelerated thought.
If I can block the waves, I can withstand the rain too.
Enkrid had yet to perfect a swordplay he had recently devised, which he called the Wave-Blocking Blade.
He now pulled out the unfinished technique, narrowly defending himself as her whip-like blade twisted and darted, targeting his ankles or attempting to wrap around his wrists.
If it wraps around, it'll sever.
The raindrops moved with the wind, adapting to it.
Was this what made such a thing possible?
By the time they concluded their bout, the day had passed.
"Tomorrow, I'll show you Autumn's Falling Leaves," Shinar said, turning away mid-attack.
"I look forward to it," Enkrid replied.
By the next day, as Shinar demonstrated her Falling Leaves technique, the number of onlookers had grown.
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