Chapter 731 - Imperial Swordsmanship
Will is a unique skill of those who can wield it.
But where did it all begin?
A cat radiates a murderous aura that freezes the mouse in front of it.
Monsters could do something similar.
They instill fear in sapient beings, humans included.
It isn’t hard to imagine someone standing before a monster, paralyzed with terror, unable to look away, trembling until death.
’Any monster of a certain level—’
They know how to manipulate fear. Intimidation originates from that.
It’s about crushing your opponent’s spirit and ruling over them through fear.
If you recall the first time you experienced true intimidation, it’s easy to understand.
It was the kind of pressure that made you feel your head might be lopped off at any moment.
"Just as with intimidation, if you go back far enough, the beginnings of Will are just the same. This is a theory suggested by Imperial scholars—the first Knight, pondering the source of a monster’s overwhelming power, awakened to the concept of Will. And, look, here comes another one."
As he spoke, Balmung smirked at the corners of his mouth.
Hadn’t Rhinox mentioned before they left that Balmung was a man of bad habits?
Even Schmidt seemed displeased about the two of them traveling together, judging by how much he tried to talk them out of it.
"For now, I need to return to the Empire as well. I have to make a report. The fact that a legendary alchemist transformed into a monster, claimed to be a god, and then was killed is no small matter."
Partly it was because his injured leg meant he couldn’t keep up with Enkrid and Balmung’s pace, but the need to inform the Empire really was a serious matter. Even so, Schmidt had repeated his warning to Balmung several times.
"Enkrid of the Border Guard will become a pillar of the Empire."
This was not something Enkrid necessarily agreed with. He had never said he was going to the Empire, nor had he ever shown any interest in it, so he wondered why Schmidt was saying this.
"Me?"
That’s why he interrupted, unable to just listen on.
"It means that’s how valuable you are."
Schmidt reiterated, and Balmung scratched his ear. Not that Schmidt could nag him any further, either. Their hierarchy was clear—Balmung was above, Schmidt below. And when Rhinox said Balmung had bad habits, this was exactly the kind of thing he meant.
"Ghouls."
Balmung liked the sound of bones breaking. In the middle of the conversation, he suddenly kicked off the ground and darted forward, grabbing the ghoul’s arm and snapping it with a sharp crack. He did it before the ghoul could even reach out. A few more monsters charged at them, but they all ended up in the same condition. Their arms and legs were broken, and they squirmed on the ground until, in the end, their necks were crushed underfoot. The only sounds that echoed were sharp cracks, snaps, and crunches.
"Monsters don’t give much satisfaction when you hit them."
That’s what he said afterwards.
Balmung never bothered to hide his desires. In fact, he laid them out plainly.
"Breaking a giant’s bones gives me the most joy. The sound it makes when something that looks unbreakable finally snaps is truly magnificent."
He once said that when a giant’s bones break, it sounds like a stone pillar shattering. With a comment like that, it was clear he wasn’t quite normal.
"So you’re saying the origins of Intimidation began with mimicking the killing intent of monsters, and Will first developed from witnessing monsters use their massive bodies to display impossible strength?"
Enkrid continued the conversation, tying the discussion together. It was a dry road under the blazing sun, with green grasses now sprouting up to fill the path beneath their feet. Here and there, wildflowers peeked through, but the path itself was rugged, not one often traveled by people. It was an untamed trail. With rocks protruding everywhere, what looked flat from a distance was actually rough and uneven up close. They crossed over several ridgelines like this, but it wasn’t in the direction of the Border Guard. They hadn’t found any traces along the way, nor had they received any new information, yet Balmung chose his direction without hesitation.
"Some would say that, but there are other scholars who claim differently."
The Empire had unified the continent’s language and currency. Once, the Empire had tried to rule over the entire central continent, but now it had stopped. No one really knows why. That’s why even Krang is always alert and keeping a close eye on the Empire’s movements.
Enkrid also shared a bit about himself. It’s only proper to give when you’ve received something. Even if you can’t always place two things on the scales and expect them to balance.
In the course of their conversation, Count Molsenn was mentioned, as well as Dmule. He spoke of chimeras and the forced process of turning people into knights.
"They’re churning out knights like they’re stamped on an assembly line? That’s just wrong. If you ask me, a knight should be like a one-of-a-kind work of art crafted by an artisan. To put it simply, something made from cast bronze is easily broken and brittle. True meaning comes only through relentless training and being shaped with the spirit of a master craftsman. And how does the Empire do it? Knights lead and guide other knights."
Balmung spoke with firm conviction, holding nothing back. He even willingly revealed how the Empire nurtures its knights.
’A cycle.’
It keeps going round and round, maintaining and increasing their numbers. Enkrid learned something new. Was this luck? He had to admit that it was. He thought that, once he returned to the Border Guard, there would be all sorts of things he could try.
That core idea was engraved in his mind as if carved there.
"Do you think the Empire is evil?" Balmung asked.
"I don’t know," Enkrid replied.
He never passed judgment on things he hadn’t experienced himself. Balmung was quietly impressed. He really liked Enkrid’s attitude. As for his skill—he’d have to observe a bit longer. No matter how much experience Balmung himself had, judging someone like this based only on appearances was difficult. If someone was unskilled, you could tell by their walk; even if they were better, you could usually figure it out by watching their reactions.
’But with this guy, it’s just not that easy to see.’
Conversely, Enkrid couldn’t gauge Balmung’s abilities either.
Yet, both of them knew from experience that this was only natural. By comparing Balmung to the head of Yohan’s house, Enkrid could tell that this man wasn’t far behind. Likewise, Balmung knew that Enkrid wasn’t some delicate "greenhouse knight" raised with care in a sheltered environment on the continent.
"Some within the Empire actually refer to knights from the rest of the continent as ’greenhouse knights’"
Balmung spoke with a smile.
Even though there wasn’t really anywhere good to step, Enkrid maintained perfect balance as he walked over sharp rocks. He simply had to keep his ankles flexible and tense his calves, thighs, and hips. It looked simple, but he was walking in a way that let him swing his sword in any direction at a moment’s notice. This kind of walking should be mentally exhausting, but since he was so used to rough terrain, Enkrid replied in an utterly calm tone.
"Are you saying you stagnate if you don’t keep fighting?"
"You really are the type to grasp ten things when I teach you one."
Since it wasn’t something he heard often, the compliment felt a little awkward. If Enkrid managed to walk while maintaining his balance, Balmung pressed down with his feet and crushed several rocks to make himself a path.
"The world isn’t simple, Enkrid of the Border Guard."
"Did I ever say I was simple-minded?"
No, he never did.
Balmung nodded quietly.
After exchanging words a few times, he realized something: out-talking this guy wasn’t going to be easy.
So, what now? Balmung didn’t bother hiding his curiosity about Enkrid.
As evening fell, the two settled on a spot to stay the night—a small cave. Right in front of the cave, they built a campfire. Since they hadn’t brought a pot, they just roasted some jerky and ate it as best they could. Then, out of nowhere, Balmung spoke up.
"Want to learn some techniques?"
He wasn’t suggesting a sparring match or an exchange of skills—he just offered to teach them out of the blue.
Well, Enkrid wasn’t the type to turn down an offer like that.
Balmung really did know an impressive variety of techniques.
"You don’t need to master them right away. Just knowing them is enough."
To put it simply, these were highly detailed countermeasures.
Depending on what weapon the opponent was using or their stance, there were wrestling moves to lock their arm or break free, all techniques born from real experience.
These weren’t the sort of techniques you’d find in Imperial swordsmanship or formal training.
In particular, wrestling maneuvers while still holding your sword—moves like that were nowhere to be found in Valaf-style Martial Arts.
None of them were especially flashy, but they did broaden his perspective.
The more small techniques you know, and the more firsthand experience you have, the better.
Knowing this, Enkrid sweated profusely as he absorbed every single move, determined not to miss a thing.
Maybe he looked genuinely eager.
Because Balmung started to share something personal.
"I used to be with the Eli Mercenary Corps. Ever heard of them?"
He said this while their wrists were locked together. Though their faces were apart, Enkrid’s right ankle and Balmung’s left ankle were crossed.
Their hands and feet were tangled together, but their torsos stayed separated Balmung always carried a faint smell of dust with him. It was the scent you’d get from opening a chest or a storage room that hadn’t been opened in ages.
"Vaguely."
It was a name famous before Anu, the King of Mercenaries, swept across the continent. It was a mercenary corps named after a man called Eli, but as the story went, the three Centurions serving under him fought even better than Eli himself. Balmung was one of those three Centurions.
"So you’re older than you look."
"If you awaken Will, you age more slowly. Will is a power born of one’s resolve—but it also fills the whole body with vitality."
Sometimes, the things Balmung said came off as a bit philosophical. Practical, yet philosophical. Saying it like that, those two ideas sound contradictory.
’The world isn’t simple.’
You can’t judge a person by only one side of them. Enkrid, not forgetting what he’d learned from Hescal, simply accepted things as they were. Is the Empire evil? He could give the same answer to that question. You don’t know until you experience it for yourself.
Snap, thud!
Balmung twisted his wrist to break free and shifted his weight to his ankle, and for a moment Enkrid thought he was being unbalanced. But then Balmung shook off Enkrid’s grip, widened the distance between them, and stepped away.
"This is my main weapon, so there’s no need for me to get into close combat, is there?"
As Balmung spoke, he tapped his waist. The angular shape of a blunt weapon at his side made its presence clear.
’Since his specialty is the blunt weapon, keeping distance is his top priority.’
Once you know someone’s goal, it becomes easier to predict their actions.
’The core of True Sword Style.’
The more you understand your opponent, the easier they are to read. That’s why you need to keep honing your insight. Of course, you could also use this against someone who believes they’ve figured you out by reading their intentions in reverse. Whatever the case, knowing your opponent puts you at an advantage. That was probably why Balmung had offered to teach him techniques in the first place. Right now, Balmung was sizing Enkrid up. What are his strengths? What are his habits? The funny thing was, in this kind of situation, Enkrid could really scramble Balmung’s thoughts.
’Balanced, Swift, and Honest—he’s not bound by any of the five.’
Balmung decided that the more he watched Enkrid, the less he understood him. After about three days of talking and exchanging techniques, they finally spotted their target. It was a broad, basin-like area roughly halfway up the mountain range. Only short grass grew there, giving the place a desolate feeling. There were barely any trees around, and sunlight rarely reached the ground. Looking around, he noticed that several mountain peaks were positioned just right to block out the sunlight. In this place where the chill settled instead of summer’s heat, there stood a man holding a longsword. He had scars on his eyebrows and lips, and even without them, his appearance was more than enough to be called menacing. Judging by his longer right arm, he must have spent years training his swordsmanship with his right hand, and despite being on the run for some time, he didn’t look shabby or worn down.
’He’s managed to eat well and live decently, even while on the run.’
That was the conclusion.
"You bastards, you’re disgustingly persistent."
He spoke.
Balmung answered with a bright smile.
"On my oath."
The next thing he said caught Enkrid completely off guard.
"If you can beat the friend standing next to me, you’re free. Gelt."
The man, chased after causing all sorts of incidents as the leader of a group of bandits, was named Gelt.
"Didn’t you say you wanted to see Imperial swordsmanship? Unfortunately, I think I twisted my ankle earlier, so I’ll have a hard time fighting today."
Balmung gave a completely unconvincing excuse, but Enkrid played along with the joke.
"Then you should get some rest."
Rustle rustle
He stepped forward, treading on grass as low and damp as moss.
"What’s your deal? Are you from the Empire?"
His opponent asked, sitting lazily atop a wide, blunt boulder.
Gelt was the type who took up the sword because he enjoyed the feeling of cutting people down.
When fighting the strong, it was hard to get that satisfaction.
He much preferred hearing the screams of women and children.
That’s what Balmung had told him on the way.
Most likely, that really was the kind of person Gelt was.
There was no need to add any lies to the story.
Srrrng.
Enkrid drew Samcheol and raised it, looking straight at Gelt.
"No."
"Some errand boy you dragged along when you were a mercenary?"
"No."
"Then what are you?"
As Gelt asked, he pushed himself off the rock and aimed his sword at Enkrid.
The tip pointed skyward on a diagonal, the blade shielding most of his body.
That was the feeling it gave. In other words, his intimidation took on a tangible form.
"In the Empire, that’s the basic way we handle intimidation."
Balmung’s voice came from behind. Imperial swordsmanship was a step ahead of the continent’s styles.
You could tell just from hearing about it.
Now, experiencing it firsthand would make it even clearer.
He focused his gaze forward.
The blowing wind, the sunlight, the stretched shadows, the feel of the ground beneath his feet.
He gathered everything into his field of senses.
Enkrid prepared the Sword of Chance.

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