The sky, filled with clouds, felt lower than ever.
It seemed as if the clouds were touching the small hill behind the training ground and the barracks.
As everyone went about their business, the King and Encrid discussed their dreams.
Their conversation took place as they inhaled and exhaled the cold, refreshing air left behind by the drying rain.
"I wish to become a Knight and wield a sword."
His tone and demeanor were so plain and unassuming that his dream seemed like someone else's story.
It was about the things he wanted to do on the continent, starting with becoming a Knight.
The King thought about Encrid's dream.
'There is no despair or discouragement.'
He doesn't even discuss the mockery of others.
He will move forward resolutely, and because of that, he harbors no doubt.
This man does not consider failure.
The King's past briefly crossed his mind.
"Talking about founding a nation is nonsense! Do you really think that's possible?"
It was the voice of his most loyal brother.
Anu couldn't blame him. His brother was simply a man who faced reality.
His words were not wrong. Others also shared similar sentiments.
"It's impossible. How can you invest in such a venture?"
"Are you planning to become a bandit or a thief? What is there in the East?"
"Why waste your strength on such a cause? Focus on repelling the Demon Realm, and I will give you whatever you desire."
The King, Anu, did not listen to any of their words and rejected them all.
None of their arguments made his heart race.
'I will do what makes my heart race.'
For him, that was founding a nation in the East.
Anu eventually did it. He poured his life into laying the foundation of a nation.
Everyone said it couldn't be done. Everyone said it was meaningless. Everyone laughed at him.
Anu didn't have time to care about such things. There was far too much to be done.
He simply moved forward.
As he kept walking and advancing,
"It sounds fun. Let's do it together."
More people began to stay by his side.
"You have many gaps. Let me help fill them."
And that brought him to the present.
It wasn't over. It was just beginning.
The King's voice carried weight, and his eyes sparkled with passion, though he didn't intend to show it.
"An Eastern Kingdom? That's just a checkpoint! A nation will only serve as the foundation. My goal is to conquer the entire East."
He would explore the unknown, blaze trails, and plant flags on that land.
As he spoke, the King bared his fangs. It was a smile, but it was also an expression of his fighting spirit.
"You want to become a Knight? Are you talking about the Knights of the Past?"
"Yes."
"Are you saying you'll erase war from the continent? If the Demon Realm is the enemy, you'll destroy it, and if demons block your way, you'll kill them, and if the Empire stands in your way, you'll bring it down?"
His dream was even grander than the King's dream of conquering the East. This was pure delusion. The King respected others' dreams, but this was too much.
Encrid's demeanor remained unchanged. By now, his sweat had cooled. The wind blew, tousling his long black hair, which had grown enough to tickle his neck.
He had no noble bloodline, he wasn't royalty, and he wasn't exceptionally talented.
He was just a man driven by a single dream, walking forward and advancing.
"You're quite an interesting fellow."
Anu repeated the words others had said to him in admiration.
His dream was on a completely different scale.
"If I were to start a war on the continent, you would fight against me, wouldn't you? Then, to consider the future, I should kill you here and now."
He didn't truly intend to kill him.
The King had remembered something he had forgotten from Encrid's words.
For the first time, he saw Encrid's true resolve while staying in this place.
That was why.
The words 'I'll kill you' were meant as a lesson, to cover all the unpredictability of the situation.
It was an excuse to hide his reluctance to explain all his whims in words.
Of course, it was impossible to truly know the King's intentions.
Wasn't he already a man of unpredictable moods and actions?
The King stood up from his seated position and reached behind him. His adjutant hesitated for a moment.
The adjutant had followed Anu for over twenty years.
'Is he serious?'
So he hesitated, but he followed the command. He was about to hand the spear to the King when the King spoke.
"The Bull."
The adjutant went beyond hesitation and froze. The name of a weapon that would only be brought out against a worthy opponent or a comparable enemy had been mentioned.
"My Lord?"
Asaluhi involuntarily questioned.
"Give it to me."
The King was resolute. The adjutant pulled out a new weapon strapped to his back and unwrapped the cloth around it.
The spear shaft was a deep brown, making it difficult to guess its material, and the spearhead was uniquely bifurcated.
The spearhead's material and shape resembled horns. It was a dark gray horned spearhead. If seen in the dark, its black color would make it nearly invisible.
The two horns formed the spearhead, representing the bull's head, while the shaft represented the bull's body.
An unprecedented sense of intimidation radiated from the King's body as he held the spear. It was a pressure that instinctively made one want to bow their head.
Seated beside him, Encrid felt a crushing pressure as if he were sinking into the ground, but he quickly activated his Will of Rejection.
The resolve Encrid held within him pushed back against the pressure the King exuded, proving himself.
The rejection and defiance came because he could not be crushed.
Encrid pushed himself up from the ground with his palms.
The mere act of standing up was enough to surprise Asaluhi.
To stand without a single tremor in front of the King holding the Bull.
More than that, the man had already been struck down twice by the King today.
He had every right to be exhausted. His spirit should have wavered.
But it did not.
Encrid stood, holding Aker.
The true intent behind the King's words? He didn't care.
His legs weakened from the two duels?
That, too, didn't matter.
The King had heard his dream and now intended to shatter it. He had openly revealed his intent to kill him without hesitation.
Encrid did what he always did.
He raised his sword in defiance.
He stitched back together the dream that had been torn.
He steadied his stance and fixed his gaze on his opponent.
He walked forward, focusing only on his dream.
He tightened his legs and regulated his breathing.
As always, he lived in the moment as if it didn't matter if he died.
The King's spear moved. With a speed that blurred even the faintest afterimage, the two horns thrust toward Encrid's chest.
Encrid raised Aker at an angle to block.
Had he been less fortunate, he would not have blocked it.
Ting.
In the blink of an eye, the spear approached, grazing Aker's blade as it stopped just in front of his chest. Then, the blade lodged itself between the two horns and twisted to the side.
The stopping of the thrust was more astonishing than the thrust itself. Despite being delivered so quickly, it had halted with just a faint 'ting' and then attempted to snap the blade by twisting it between the two spearheads.
Creak.
The blade trapped between the two horns screamed in protest.
Encrid gripped his sword tightly, resisting the spear's attempt to tear it from his grasp with the strength of the Heart of Great Strength and the grip he honed every morning.
When the blade neither broke nor slipped from his hands, the King spoke.
"Try blocking this as well."
The King, exuding an air of confidence, retracted the spear and thrust it forward again.
In Encrid's eyes, the Bull's horns multiplied to six.
The spear split into three prongs, each as real as the others. And indeed, they were all real.
Speed is relative, after all.
To Encrid, the triple thrust appeared completely genuine. It was a marvel to behold the King thrusting and retracting the spear in quick succession.
There was no time to shout or focus.
Encrid relaxed and then, in an instant, tensed all the muscles in his body as he slashed with his sword.
If any soldier had recognized the technique mixed into Encrid's swordsmanship, they would have been worthy of receiving Luagarne's teachings.
A sword stroke combining the Crushing Sword Technique and the Will of Swiftness met the Bull's horns.
The horns, once again, merely brushed against the blade and withdrew.
Ting.
Encrid pulled Aker back. It was time to catch his breath. Somehow, the sword felt heavier than before.
No, Aker's weight was now fully transmitting into his arms as never before. He thought it might be due to his exhaustion.
Instead of charging, the King spoke.
"When you realize Will, you start creating techniques one by one, and when you go beyond that, you fight with Will itself. That's what you mean by being a Knight."
Encrid had no time to respond. The King continued.
"If you can fight with Will itself, shouldn't you have a weapon that matches it? The answer was obvious. The Bull is that kind of weapon. It's commonly called an engraved weapon. My Will is contained within it."
As he spoke, the King thrust his spear again. It was impossible to tell when he even found the time to breathe.
Encrid raised his sword once more.
Ting!
This time, the blade and horns merely brushed against each other.
Encrid couldn't even determine if it was the right moment to go for a decisive strike.
Even though he had activated his 'Eye to see a step ahead', the next move was obscured as if shrouded in fog.
He was supposed to predict the next move by observing the opponent's shoulder movements, the tension in their legs, but his opponent revealed none of those tells.
It was as if everything was veiled in mist.
The sword in his hand felt even heavier than before. Every time it clashed with the spear, it was as if someone had secretly added more metal to it.
The fog and the weight were both irritating, but—
'So what?'
Encrid ignored it, taking a deep breath and holding it. His cheeks puffed out.
He did everything he could.
As always.
Encrid's sword seemed to disappear into thin air with a swift motion.
It was a thrust utilizing everything he had. The activation of his speed.
It was a strike that combined breath-holding, focused concentration, the Heart of Great Strength, and the sense of attack.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The King extended his spear, altering the trajectory of the blade.
Ting!
Another similar sound rang out.
Encrid pulled back the sword that had been knocked off course. If it didn't work the first time, he would try again, and if not the second, then the third, and even ten times if necessary.
If you stop because of an endless wall blocking your way, you'll never get past it.
Aker's blade began to dance in the air, breaking through the light of the setting sun.
The King deflected every one of those strikes with the Bull's horns.
As they clashed, a few raindrops fell from the dark clouds above.
Ting-ting-ting!
Aker and the Bull met countless times, parting and coming together in the blink of an eye. Encrid staggered back.
A fine rain fell on his sword, causing it to sizzle and steam.
"As expected, you must die."
The King spoke, and despite his staggering, Encrid did not loosen his grip on his sword.
After a brief moment of glaring at each other, the King spoke again.
"Axe, I know you're back there, so don't bother throwing anything."
The King's mouth opened again.
"Your senses are probably still awkward, and if you take the wrong path now, you'll suffer for it your entire life."
The King continued.
"It seems like you try to grab hold when things go wrong, but I won't give you the chance to close the distance."
The King, standing the Bull upright, stabbed the ground with the spear shaft and withdrew his killing intent.
"And I am a beastman, who hasn't even transformed yet!"
His final shout raised the hair on everyone's skin. It was a cry filled with confidence, proven over long years, not arrogance.
Though the King's personality wavered due to his long life, making his words unpredictable, the meaning behind them was clear.
"Why so suddenly?"
Luagarne asked.
She, too, had been standing to the side, fiddling with the handle of her loop sword.
Even that Frog was ready to jump in if things went wrong.
The King knew this but pretended not to as he answered.
"Just a whim. Asaluhi."
"Yes."
The King threw the Bull back. Asaluhi, who caught it, shook the heated spear to cool the horn-made blade before wrapping it back in cloth.
"Let's go."
The King made his decision and moved. It was as impulsive as his arrival.
Yet, no one stopped him.
As he passed by Encrid, who was on the verge of collapsing where he stood, the King whispered something to him and patted him on the shoulder.
Then, he strode forward with large, casual steps.
"Until we meet again."
The adjutant, Asaluhi, said as he looked back.
No one responded.
Asaluhi met the gaze of Dunbachel, who had been watching from a tree, frozen in place, and gave her a gentle smile before stepping back.
They were all ready to jump into the fray.
At the exit, Teresa stood holding her shield.
"Let's go."
Asaluhi followed the King.
* * *
"Why did you do that? They didn't seem like people who were headed to the East."
Asaluhi quickened his pace, catching up to the King who was walking ahead with his usual casual strides, and asked.
He had followed the King for a long time. Though momentarily puzzled, he quickly grasped the King's intent.
What the King had given was a gift.
Including the final whispered words, he had left Encrid with a gift.
"The gift was given to me first."
"What do you mean by that?"
Asaluhi asked again, and the King responded with a slight smile.
"I was good with both the sword and the spear the moment I picked them up. You know that, right?"
"Yes, I do."
There was a time when the King, known as the Mercenary King, was renowned for his innate talent.
He possessed natural physical abilities and a charismatic presence.
"Born as a slave's child, yet before I turned sixteen, I freed even my parents from slavery."
After that, he gained fame by slaying a lion with just a single spear.
"Even so."
The King paused his speech. The brief rain had already ceased. The air and sky were clear, though cold.
A cool breeze brushed against his cheek.
'I once wondered if I could truly dedicate my life to conquering the East.'
The King swallowed his thoughts. It was a consequence of time. He had momentarily forgotten the fervor he had in his youth.
He thought he needed talented people, but was that truly necessary?
Why couldn't he advance alone?
Even after establishing a Kingdom in the East, why did he feel it wasn't enough?
It was because he had lost his fervor.
In the short span of ten days or so, the King had seen Encrid and realized this once again.
He had rekindled the fervor he had forgotten.
"A clumsy swordsman with a will greater than mine."
Asaluhi tilted his head in confusion and suddenly asked,
"Do you think that man will become a Knight?"
"I don't know."
"It's not an easy path."
Asaluhi had eyes to see. He believed Encrid could not become a Knight. He didn't see the talent in him.
The King, amused by his adjutant's words, responded with a smile.
"His talent is indeed lacking. I've never seen someone so unskilled."
Compared to others, Encrid had almost no talent. The King had felt it firsthand during their duels—Encrid's talent was abysmally low.
Yet, the King believed he would become a Knight.
"Can you become a Knight just by swinging a sword all day? Or does it take an abundance of talent?"
"Don't you need both?"
Effort and talent were crucial prerequisites, weren't they?
The King, still smiling, spoke, thinking of the man who had reminded him of what he had forgotten.
"If someone carries their dream in their sword, they can surpass their limits."
That's how the King saw it.
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