(edited and preserved)
Enopy's mind spun with confusion as he tried to piece together the events before him.
"Who is he? Is that even his real identity? Do they know I'm not the real Enopy—not entirely? Who does he work for? Is he here to kill me?" he thought frantically.
"No, no, let's calm down and analyze the situation."
Right now, Layen is crouched on his tiptoes. He just stopped my dagger with two fingers. And now he's asking for food… Huh. I can use this, Enopy decided.
"Oh, it's just you, Layen." Enopy put on a confused yet sly expression. "I'll give you food—but only if you answer some questions."
Internally, he remained on full alert.
Layen, however, looked ecstatic. With a euphoric expression and drool practically hanging from his lips, he stared at the steam rising from the pot of ankle sheep stew.
"Sure! Gimme!" he said, not taking his eyes off the bubbling broth.
As Enopy filled a bowl with sheep meat, mushrooms, and thick broth, he asked, "Who are you?"
Layen reached for the bowl, his face suddenly blank when Enopy pulled it away at the last second.
"Ha-waaa," Layen whimpered, following the bowl with his eyes. He looked like he might crawl toward it, but Enopy stopped him with a finger to his forehead.
"Who are you? Answer—and you'll get this," Enopy said slowly, withdrawing his finger and pointing at the bowl.
A strange calmness came over Layen. He sat up properly and said, "I'm Layen Stiro. Seventeen years old. Peak stage of peak rank one magic knight. Son of Odd Stiro, an earl of the Pattern Kingdom."
Peak rank one! Enopy screamed internally. His thoughts went wild, but his face remained expressionless—something he had mastered in his past life. He didn't realize Layen had stopped talking until—
"Enopy!" Layen shouted, snapping him back to reality.
"How do you know my name?" Enopy asked, narrowing his eyes.
I've kept a low profile ever since joining this caravan. How does he know me?
Layen replied matter-of-factly, "Everyone knows who you are. They even call you the Lone Wolf."
"Aren't you the same?" Enopy asked, unfazed.
"Nope. I have friends!" Layen puffed his chest out proudly, placing a hand over his heart.
"You do?" Enopy asked, clearly skeptical.
"Yeah! We play hide and find, tag game. It goes like this—they take my stuff, and I have to get it back. If they lose my stuff, we play hide and find again—where I—"
"I get it. Stop," Enopy interrupted, shaking his head.
"Let's continue," Enopy said, his expression softening.
"Fine," Layen said, snapping back to the moment.
"Why are you going to the training facility if you're already at the peak of rank one?" Enopy asked seriously.
"I've hit a bottleneck," Layen replied, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "My dad sent me to break through to rank two…"
Still, his eyes didn't leave the bowl.
Enopy ignored his dramatics. "What technique did you use to become a magic knight?"
"Quiet."
"What?"
"The name of the technique is Quiet," Layen clarified.
"How do you cultivate it?" Enopy asked, pushing the bowl slightly closer.
"Well, it's easy," Layen said, eyes locked on the nearing bowl. He zoned out, nearly reaching it—but was jolted awake by Enopy's loud clap.
"Oh, right! So it works like—"
Ding!
The system's voice rang out in Enopy's mind: "The inner strength fragrance technique has been processed."
His sense of hearing returned just in time to catch the last few words.
"…and that's how it works. Now give it to me!" Layen said, almost pouncing.
Enopy sighed. "It's a pity I missed most of that—but better not irritate him."
Then, the system chimed again:
"Do you want to see all records of Layen?"
"Oh?! So it records stuff?" Enopy was stunned.
"Yes. I'd like to see the latest recording of Layen," he said aloud.
This time, his consciousness remained aware. With eyes closed, sounds and images played clearly in his mind.
He watched as Layen's voice echoed:
"The Quiet technique is a stealth art—but it strengthens your body during battle."
"Before becoming a magic knight, you act like a bodybuilder for aura. You release your aura, spread it to influence the surrounding energy, then convert that energy into your own and push it back into your body—repeating the cycle. You know this."
"But here's the tricky part—"
"To become a magic knight, you must push yourself to your absolute limit, and then draw all that energy inward to create a physical core. Most people fail because they can't reach that limit."
"Here's the secret—" Layen's tone shifted to something eerie.
"You need to face a true life-or-death situation. Only that can force you to your limit."
"Once you succeed, to train your physical core, you must guide your consciousness into the fragrance realm. There, your aura becomes a fragrance—what we call odored spiritual energy."
"You move your consciousness toward the scent you're most compatible with, absorb it, and channel it back to your core. That's how it works."
Enopy opened his eyes and grinned. "I almost forgot about the Inner Strength Fragrance Technique. I wanted to study it before—but it's late. If we don't go back now, someone might come looking for us."
He stood up and said, "I'll cook the rest of the sheep tomorrow night when we stop. Come on. I have more questions."
"Sure!" Layen chirped, licking his lips and glancing longingly at the pot.
They scarfed down several bowls of stew and sprinted back to camp—
Only to stop dead in their tracks at the sight before them.