Chapter 57 - Soundless Blade
After seeing it, he wanted it.
It was a sudden question, but Jaxen wasn't the type to get flustered.
As always, his expression remained stoic.
For a brief moment, Jaxen seemed ready to speak but hesitated. He appeared to be mulling something over.
Enkrid stood quietly with his arms at his sides, waiting for Jaxen to open his mouth.
There was no point in rushing him.
The hesitation didn't last long.
Soon, Jaxen exhaled, a puff of white breath dispersing into the cold air.
"Whistle Dagger. It was once known as the Soundless Blade," Jaxen began, scratching his cheek as he spoke.
Considering his initial hesitation, his explanation flowed smoothly.
"The Soundless Blade—it's a weapon so fast that only the sound is left behind. It moves faster than the human eye can follow, making it difficult to deal with. Most victims die without even knowing what struck them. That's what the Whistle Dagger is."
"And if someone
had
to face it?"
Was there a way to avoid an assassin?
Probably not. It didn't seem like it.
The assassin was meticulous in their preparations.
They had exploited spies planted within Enkrid's allies and executed their plans with precision.
At least, that's how it looked to Enkrid for now.
He was bound, hands and feet shackled, forced to move wherever his captors pulled him.
It was time to figure out how to escape.
"If someone had to?"
Jaxen tilted his head, as if the question itself was strange.
"Yes, if they had to," Enkrid repeated, emphasizing the point.
Jaxen stared intently into Enkrid's eyes.
Blue eyes met reddish-brown ones, their gazes clashing in midair.
It felt like Jaxen was silently asking,
Why would you even need to know this?
Enkrid ignored the unspoken question.
Jaxen was someone who traded in necessary information, not someone who asked "why" of his clients.
Eventually, Jaxen's expression hardened, and he said, "This information won't come cheap."
"The more expensive, the better," Enkrid replied earnestly.
After all, today wasn't likely to be the last day of his life.
If the morning came and this knowledge turned out to be something Enkrid already knew, its value would plummet to nothing—at least, to him.
Jaxen's face grew more serious, as if his mood had soured.
Enkrid ignored that, too.
Jaxen's feelings weren't the priority right now.
"You need to watch their hand movements before you hear the sound. Everything hinges on how they move their hand," Jaxen explained concisely.
Don't be fooled by the sound.
By the time you hear it, it's already too late.
You have to keep your eyes on the enemy's movements.
"You can't lose sight of them for even a moment. Especially if the opponent is a top-tier assassin—they'll know how to throw without being seen."
The Whistle Dagger's defining characteristic was its paper-thin blade.
The blade was sharpened to such an extent that it could pierce even steel breastplates under the right circumstances.
In the hands of a skilled user, it could even penetrate thick armor.
Some experts layered multiple thin blades to amplify its lethality, Jaxen added.
Jaxen explained that there were two primary ways to throw a dagger:
One method involved a wide swing to maximize power.
The other focused on concealing the throw entirely.
"You've seen me throw daggers before, right?" Enkrid asked. Throwing daggers was a skill he'd once trained in obsessively.
"Yes, it was on the level of throwing rocks," Jaxen replied bluntly, dismissing Enkrid's skill with a single remark.
He might as well have said that throwing actual rocks would be more effective.
Rocks might at least deal some damage, unlike Enkrid's daggers, which barely hit their mark.
"Harsh," Enkrid thought.
Even though Enkrid was used to brushing off criticism, Jaxen's words were sharp enough to cut through his indifference.
It wasn't quite like taking a dagger to the heart, but it felt like one had lodged itself somewhere in his arm.
"Then teach me properly. How to throw them," Enkrid muttered, slightly annoyed.
"Fine, let's do that. I'll add it to the trade list," Jaxen replied.
"Hm?"
"Don't want to?"
Enkrid didn't dislike the idea.
He was always hungry for knowledge, and this offer was like an oasis in the desert.
Thirsty as ever, Enkrid nodded.
"No, I want to."
"Start with how to hold it."
With the patrol shift approaching, their lesson was brief—barely half an hour.
In that short time, Enkrid found himself reassessing Jaxen.
"Without practice, this won't mean much," Jaxen said, teaching him how to grip and throw blades of various weights: thin knives, hand axes, and heavier daggers.
Each weapon required a different grip and throwing technique.
Once again, Enkrid realized how much there was to learn.
As he turned to resume his patrol, Jaxen spoke.
His voice was small but firm.
"Don't create situations where you
have
to face them.
That's the first step."
After treating him with subtle irritation the entire time, Jaxen ended with a note of concern.
For a moment, Enkrid wondered what he had ever done for people like Jaxen, Rem, and Ragna to make them act this way.
Why are they so kind to me, without reason?
They weren't romantically involved, nor did he think of them as deep friends.
Yet their behavior felt like they were looking after a child by the water's edge.
No, that's not quite it.
They never insisted on following him to the battlefield, after all.
It was a fleeting thought.
"Sure," Enkrid muttered.
In truth, he had no intention of avoiding such situations.
Some battles couldn't be avoided, no matter how much one wished to.
"Was it you on patrol today? I heard you got promoted to high-ranked soldier. Hey, congrats!"
It was Jack, accompanied by Bo.
"Let's go," Enkrid said.
And so, he plunged once more into the waves of today.
The biting cold wind howled, but he was dressed in one more layer than yesterday, as if wrapped in cloth armor.
The extra clothing, coupled with the exercises Audin had taught him, kept him warmer.
The cold didn't feel as harsh anymore.
"I won't sell it for that price!"
The same scene played out in the bustling market.
Enkrid had grown accustomed to using the leather merchant's angry shout as a marker.
Right about now, the rag-cloaked half-elf would make their appearance.
At the same time, Jack and Bodo closed in on either side of him.
Enkrid had no intention of letting the day slip by aimlessly.
Of course, he had plans.
With a quick motion, he tripped Jack's foot with his left.
"Wha—?"
Jack stumbled forward.
The moment Jack fell, Enkrid drew his sword from his right hip—a broad, sturdy blade known as a guard sword.
Its thick, wide blade could double as a shield.
Chiiing, seogeok.
"...Crazy!"
Bo shouted in surprise from the side, and rightly so.
The wide blade of Enkrid's drawn dagger cleanly severed Jack's neck.
"Grrk."
There wasn't even a proper death cry.
Jack, his throat severed, collapsed face-first onto the ground, clutching his neck as he writhed.
Blood pooled on the floor.
Those who saw Jack's collapsed body screamed.
"Kyaaaah!"
"Uwaaagh!"
The crowd of merchants instinctively backed away.
No one wanted to die by a stray blade.
Meanwhile, Bo flinched.
However, Enkrid didn't give Bo the chance to move.
The wide blade in Enkrid's hand moved again.
A strike aimed downward at Bo's collarbone.
Clang!
"You bastard!"
Bo swiftly drew his dagger to block.
The weapon had a thin blade, clearly designed for thrusting.
If things had gone according to plan, Bo likely would've stabbed Enkrid's side with it.
Enkrid pushed down on the dagger he blocked, forcing Bo to retreat backward.
Without missing a beat, Enkrid bought himself time and shifted his body, guarding his chest near his heart with the broad blade.
All of this unfolded in just two breaths.
Without preparation, such an encounter would have left anyone too flustered to react.
'Up to this point...'
Everything had gone as planned.
Enkrid's gaze fixed on the assassin.
The man threw back the rags covering his head.
A bizarre, discomforting appearance came into view.
His eyes glimmered with curiosity and excitement.
Then, it began again.
'Forget sound, focus on movement.'
Enkrid shut out the noise and focused every fiber of his being on his sight.
He predicted his opponent's next move based on the visual information in front of him.
It was a countermeasure Jaxen had taught him.
Thud!
Enkrid assumed his enemy would naturally aim for his heart.
If not there, then his head.
With his focus razor-sharp, he could almost see the light reflecting off the assassin's blade as it moved.
However, he couldn't see where the blade would ultimately land.
Thus, he guarded his heart and turned his head aside.
Instead, the assassin's whistling throwing knife embedded itself in his right forearm.
A burning pain surged as his forearm muscle tore, rendering his fingers powerless.
His nerves were damaged, making it impossible to recover without divine healing—a grievous wound.
"Heh."
A hollow chuckle escaped his lips.
It was a strike he hadn't anticipated.
Protecting his heart, the assassin instead targeted his arm.
The goal wasn't to pierce the shield but to deal with the one holding it.
A novel perspective.
'This isn't some amateur assassin.'
The realization etched itself further into his mind.
Whiiiiing.
The second whistling blade struck, embedding itself in his heart.
Was this assassin harboring some deep grudge against Frogs?
It seemed he wouldn't rest until he lodged a dagger in a heart.
"Gahh."
Blood filled his cough.
A crimson tide gushed out, spilling over.
Down on both knees, propped up only by his left arm, Enkrid saw a shadow loom over him.
"You're an amusing one. A persistent lover never lets his prey..."
"Get away."
Enkrid, summoning every ounce of his strength, interrupted the assassin.
Raising his head, he met the gaze of the half-blood fairy.
The man's face was frozen in shock, his lips quivering as if unable to process the interruption.
Finally, he blurted out a single incredulous word.
"You?"
Surprised?
Of course, you'd be.
You always acted like you predicted everything.
Watching your expression crumble like this was satisfying.
Enkrid felt content.
"See you again."
The assassin wouldn't remember, but Enkrid would.
From today, he'd remember and meet him again.
The assassin recoiled at Enkrid's words.
"Was this a trap?"
The half-blood fairy looked around.
Hiring a first-class assassin just to kill a mere soldier?
It seemed excessive.
If it were a trap, it would make sense.
The idea that Enkrid had some trick up his sleeve, planning to survive, came to mind.
Of course, it was all a misconception.
There was no trap.
With a sickening thud, Enkrid's head slumped.
Another day ended.
The ferryman appeared again, smirking mockingly as always.
'Does this bastard have nothing better to do?'
Enkrid thought bitterly as he welcomed the same day once more.
"Ugh, it's damn cold."
From the early morning, Rem's grumbling echoed.
"Move around and warm yourself up. It'll help."
Enkrid stole the words right out of Audin's mouth and said them first.
Then he stood and began loosening his body.
A body warmed by light exercise always performed better than one left stiff.
That was certain.
In that sense, Audin's stretches were certainly useful.
After finishing his warm-up, Audin approached him.
"Where did you learn that?"
From you, of course.
But he couldn't admit that outright.
"From a traveling priest."
Audin had once mentioned that the origins of these exercises lay in the temples.
Specifically, it was a method used by monks who trained in unarmed and weapon combat as part of their discipline.
"You learned it well."
Audin chimed in, joining the stretching session again.
"When it's cold, isn't it better to just wrap yourself in a blanket? Why don't you fetch us some heated stones? A squad leader should take care of his men's warmth, don't you think?"
Enkrid playfully bantered back at Rem's grumbling. Before long, Jaxen returned.
"Let's talk."
Jaxen abruptly took Enkrid aside.
"Where are you going without me?"
Rem's whining echoed in the background.
"I want to learn how to use whistling blades."
One thing Enkrid had realized from living this repeating day was that it was better to simply state what he wanted outright rather than trying to be cunning.
"Where did you hear about that?"
"You pick up things when wandering around. I want to learn it."
"What's your price?"
"Anything you want. I'll even sign a blank check."
A famous merchant guild occasionally issued promissory notes, but none were as legendary as those issued by the Rengadis Merchant Guild.
The head of the Rengadis Guild, after losing his only son to a monster extermination expedition, had issued a blank check to the imperial knights who saved his son.
The story became a metaphor, symbolizing a willingness to give anything except one's life.
Jaxen furrowed his brows.
"That's not something to say lightly."
"I mean it."
Enkrid's response carried weight.
He was serious.
He craved the half-blood fairy's throwing knives.
He wanted to learn their use.
The desire burned within him.
Jaxen looked into Enkrid's eyes and nodded.
Within them, he saw flames of unrelenting desire, ready to destroy and consume anything in their path.

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