Chapter 342: Facing the Knight's Blade

Chapter 342 – Facing the Knight’s Blade

“Son of a bitch.”

Rem gritted his teeth. Ragna stood before him, exuding a calm demeanor.

He pulled back his jaw and tilted his nose slightly upwards. At the same time, he lowered his

gaze slightly, as if reciting a poem, and spoke:

“Keep advancing.”

It was a call to push forward.

Enkrid thought that phrase was perfectly fitting.

Rem was boiling with anger, almost wanting to return to his birthplace and retrieve what he had

left behind.

Although he didn’t use his sling, he had still lost.

No, he couldn’t use the sling.

There were two reasons for this.

Rem instinctively realized that winning would be difficult, and the other reason was that it

wouldn’t matter if they both died together.

Since the first time they met, Ragna had been an obnoxious person, but not one who deserved to

be beaten to death.

There were plenty of people who lived by raping and killing passing women, then patting their

bellies afterward. A fool who easily loses his way in the woods could be spared.

“Do you really want to die?”

Rem spoke, but his intention wasn’t to act on his words.

He would fight to the death if needed, but he knew that would also mean his defeat.

To win, he had to overpower his opponent with skill.

Just like what Ragna had done.

Just as the fool, who couldn’t even cut off his own limbs, had ended things, Rem would have to

do the same.

But not now.

His opponent was wielding Will in his fight.

The power of Will was present in every swing of the blade.

Even when deflected, the sword returned faster than Rem could retreat.

The tip of the sword lightly pressed against his shoulder, carrying a force that felt like it could

pierce through.

Even though the process that would typically add power was skipped, it still felt as though it had

weight behind it.

Why was that?

Rem could sum it all up in one word:

Will.

So, had Ragna become a knight?

Not exactly. But at this moment, he was slightly superior to Rem.

And that drove Rem to the brink of madness.

“Could you really do that? If it’s a matter of wanting to die together, go ahead and try.”

Ragna’s words carried that meaning.

Rem understood it, too. If he made a move, Ragna would find it just as hard to walk away

unharmed.

He would take some damage.

If Rem went all out, he could lose at least an arm or a leg.

Yet, despite knowing this, Ragna did not change his composed attitude.

‘Should I just kill him?’

Rem seriously considered it.

“I understand. Rem.”

Enkrid interrupted.

He had also finished his duel. No, it hadn’t even been a serious duel in the first place.

Shinar had maintained her teaching stance, and Enkrid had accepted it, so their match had been

more of a teaching session.

It hadn’t been bad, but Rem and Ragna’s fight had stolen the spotlight.

Naturally, after finishing his match, Enkrid had watched their battle, especially the final

exchange of blows, which had shaken his thoughts.

After six short slashes, the last was a downward strike that felt resolute.

It was a longsword’s finishing strike.

In that moment, Enkrid realized that Ragna’s sword felt different from before.

As the blade plunged vertically, Rem crossed two axes in an attempt to block, twisting his power

to deflect the blow.

The two axes absorbed the force as if they were cotton balls.

If Rem had a bit more strength left, the outcome of the fight would have been different.

At least it wouldn’t have ended the way it did.

But Rem couldn’t hold out. Ragna’s sword came down with consistent force.

It resembled a pressing blade, but it was different.

Though there was the intention to cut, it lasted longer than before.

Whereas the previous cuts had been swift, this one was more like savoring a cup of tea, lingering

long enough for Will to seep into the blade.

The pressing sword applies pressure during the preparation process, but the real Will manifests

only in the moment of impact.

It could be seen as a trick.

Because it couldn’t maintain such a high level of pressure for long, Ragna had used a slow and

steady approach to press his opponent.

But what about now?

‘The persistence is different.’

Ragna had always used the cutting technique with Will. It activated the Will in a momentary

burst.

Now, however, it descended with a sustained force. His sword, imbued with Will, held steady.

That was where the fight was decided.

Rem had failed to summon his own Will.

There was little difference in physical strength. In fact, in terms of physical completeness, Rem

might have been superior. But Ragna had layered Will on top of that.

‘Ah.’

Enkrid quickly grasped the situation.

He saw it clearly as he parried the knight’s sword.

Ragna’s new swordsmanship, light yet heavy, was essentially a technique built on Will.

It was the result of talent, or rather, the flourishing of talent due to meeting the knight’s blade.

Having fought against a knight and a squire before, Ragna had already been determined to break

his limits.

Ragna’s calm attitude contrasted sharply with Rem’s seething anger as they faced each other.

Rem ground his teeth, his frustration building. Standing in front of him, Ragna tilted his head

slightly, raised his chin, and spoke as though reciting a poem, his voice soft but firm.

“Strive forward.”

It was a simple message: keep advancing.

Enkrid recognized the truth in those words. Rem, though filled with fury, could feel the urge to

return to his birthplace, retrieve what he had left behind, and settle the score. Even though he

hadn’t resorted to using his sling, he knew he had been defeated. There was a reason for that—he

couldn’t bring himself to use it, and more importantly, he understood the futility of dying

alongside his opponent.

He had always considered Ragna to be an annoying, troublesome man, but he wasn’t someone

worth killing. In a world where men casually rape and kill women with no consequence, leaving

behind a whimpering fool like Ragna was hardly a matter worth getting worked up over.

“Do you really want to die?” Rem spat. Despite the words, there was no intent to act. He knew

that getting involved in a fight would likely mean death, but he also understood that losing in that

way would be a personal failure.

To truly win, one had to overpower the opponent with skill.

Just like Ragna had done, with his composed, calculated movements.

Rem had seen Ragna fight—he had shown restraint, even when it would have been easy to inflict

mortal harm. But Rem knew that, in the end, the battle would have to be won with overwhelming

force.

The challenge was, however, that the fight they had just engaged in had involved “Will.”

Ragna’s sword wielded a power unlike anything Rem had encountered, each strike carrying the

weight of an invisible force. The blade moved with the swiftness of something far more lethal

than simple skill.

Even when Rem blocked, the strikes came faster than he could retreat, and the power behind

each blow felt as if it were infused with a resolve to pierce through his defenses.

This was no ordinary blade.

Rem knew it wasn’t just the force—it was the “Will” infused into the sword, something he

hadn’t been able to harness himself. Ragna’s sword, though seemingly effortless, was grounded

in a technique Rem couldn’t replicate.

“Could it be that Ragna has become a knight?” Rem pondered for a moment, but he dismissed

the thought. No, it wasn’t quite that. Still, in this moment, Ragna had clearly surpassed him.

It was maddening.

Enkrid, who had been watching, spoke up. “You’ve never fought a knight, have you?”

Rem was taken aback. “What?”

“You’ll understand once you face one,” Enkrid explained, offering his own insight into the

experience.

Ragna chimed in. “It seems you’ve never faced a knight. Now I see.”

Rem, for all his frustration, wasn’t about to go on a rampage. His rage was something more

controlled—he was always a step away from unleashing his fury, but never quite losing it.

Enkrid recognized this as part of Rem’s nature. He wasn’t one to attack recklessly, even when

pushed to the edge.

“If you experience a knight’s sword…” Enkrid began, but Rem cut him off.

“Shut up, what nonsense are you spouting?”

“It’s because you haven’t seen it. Once you do, you’ll understand.”

“Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

Enkrid wasn’t trying to mock him, but Rem was not in the mood to listen. As the conversation

continued, the frustration was evident, but after hearing Enkrid’s words multiple times, Rem

finally relented.

“Fine, I’ll meet a knight someday.”

Audin, who had been quietly observing, muttered a prayer under his breath.

“May the gods surround you with understanding. You have gained a great realization, my

brother.”

Rem nodded in agreement. “Yes, I will come to understand.”

Ragna, observing Rem’s reaction, turned to Enkrid and said, “I’ll admit it. The commander is far

superior in terms of cruelty.”

Enkrid, defending himself, explained it was a misunderstanding, but no one believed him.

It wasn’t until nightfall that Rem seemed to return to his usual self.

“If you mention knights one more time, I’ll split your tongue with an axe,” he threatened.

His words weren’t empty—there was a genuine resolve in them. Rem’s will was now infused in

his voice, the same intensity that one would associate with a true battle-hardened warrior.

Enkrid, recognizing the shift, said nothing more, though he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in

how things were unfolding.

“Alright, let’s stop,” he said finally, but with some reluctance.

While it was rare to see Rem so worked up, it didn’t last long. The next day, he sought out Ragna

for a sparring session.

“You, with your terrible sense of direction—do you think you can fight like that? Follow me to

the training grounds.”

Ragna, with his usual calm demeanor, didn’t hesitate to accept.

“Fine, but today I’ll take your useless head off.”

Enkrid, always happy to join in a good spar, tried to get in between them, but soon found himself

more interested in his own training sessions with Shinar.

Meanwhile, discussions were underway regarding the state of the trade routes. The recent

improvements were largely due to Krais’s efforts.

“How are things progressing with the roads?” Enkrid asked, knowing Krais had been quite

involved.

“The work is well underway, with the roads being paved to withstand any weather,” Krais

explained.

“Who’s doing the heavy lifting?” Enkrid asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew the

answer.

“We hired skilled workers from the frontier villages,” Krais replied, “They’ve been paid well for

their efforts.”

While the work was continuing smoothly, the problems with labor shortages had not gone

unnoticed. Krais had ensured that things were running on schedule, even if it meant bringing in

people from other areas to handle the load.

“There will be no more issues with manpower soon,” Krais assured. “And as for training new

recruits, that’s something I’d like you to oversee.”

Enkrid, ever the tactician, saw the wisdom in Krais’s approach. With the right leadership, the

region would soon be self-sufficient.

Meanwhile, the reputation of the Border Guard continued to grow, spreading far and wide. Those

who had once lived in poverty or were fleeing dangerous circumstances now saw the Guard as a

place of opportunity. They were no longer merely surviving—they were beginning to thrive.

***

“We can’t just accept anyone off the streets,” the officer had expressed concern, but Krais

responded firmly.

“If we don’t seize this opportunity, we’ll lose the chance to transform this city into a trading hub.

Are you willing to throw that away?”

Krais’s words hit home, and the officer had no response.

The changes were happening. With Krais’s leadership and the growing strength of the Border

Guard, they were on the path to something greater.

If anyone could possibly fight with Rem through words, it would be Krais.

Especially when it came to Krona, her verbal prowess increased severalfold.

The officer lost his words. He seemed to have heard something about Korna midway, but he

couldn’t argue with it.

He couldn’t even raise his hand against Krais.

Krais practically thrust his face forward as if daring him to strike.

“If you’re not going to hit me, then let’s get to work.”

Cool-headed and practical, Krais had taken the seat of an officer.

It was an obvious conclusion that the officer couldn’t hit him. Krais knew this and pushed him.

Had it been anyone else, they would have been struck first.

If the officer had been the type to throw a punch first, Krais wouldn’t have acted this way either.

The officer, in the end, buried himself in the work and followed Krais’s unspoken orders.

The Lord, having rediscovered the joy of wielding a sword, kept the dark aura beneath his eyes

from fading.

Instead, the officer began reciting his nightly prayers.

Half of them were curses at Krais, and the other half at the Lord.

Enkrid didn’t know all the details, but he had a general understanding.

If Krais worked this hard, the rest would undoubtedly complain.

Krais had a knack for draining every ounce of a person’s abilities.

“The new recruits’ training will be handled by Audin.”

Enkrid offered his support to Krais.

“Yes, brother. I’ll handle it. At the very least, I’ll make sure the lambs can run.”

There was no better candidate for basic physical training than Audin.

Of course, the new recruits would shed tears, but it wasn’t a bad thing for them. Enduring hellish

training increased their chances of survival in the battlefield.

In exchange, the soldier’s pay was raised significantly. Additionally, workers were hired in large

numbers, and more maids were brought in. Women skilled in sewing were gathered to form a

tailoring guild.

“Let’s burn through all the Krona.”

Krais completely used up the remaining Krona in the castle.

“That’s the castle’s funds.”

The officer tried to argue, but it was futile.

“So what? If we just keep that money lying around, will wheat fall from the sky? Will we get an

apple for it? So what?”

“I was just saying.”

The officer gave up trying to argue.

The Lord had given his approval, and the officer’s prayers before bed became considerably

longer.

Krais, a veteran soldier, reorganized several units.

All the equipment was newly provided.

Standardizing the equipment was a measure to increase a sense of belonging.

The shortfall in Krona was covered by Leona lending some.

“There’s no interest. But don’t forget to expand my authority.”

Krais would eventually have to hand over the business and other matters to the Rockfried trading

company.

Leona knew this, but they both pretended that her giving gold was merely lending a hand in the

process.

This way, when Rockfried Trading Company received preferential treatment later, there

wouldn’t be any complaints.

Meanwhile, rumors spread that soldiers in the Border Guard would receive higher wages.

As the rumors spread, people started flocking to join.

When deserters started appearing from neighboring territories, lords sent petitions to the royal

palace to clamp down on their territories.

Someone from the royal palace came out and told them to cease, but the Lord, pretending to

comply, obviously didn’t listen.

“If this is how it’s going to be, why didn’t you help when we’re being harassed by others?”

Krais sharply criticized them.

He understood that the royal palace couldn’t mobilize military force immediately.

So, he did as he pleased.

After all, once he built up enough strength and justification, they wouldn’t be able to do much.

He continued to improve the roads and set up watchtowers in the surrounding area.

The watchtowers lined along the roads now looked like landmarks of the Border Guard.

New recruits were sent to guard these towers.

The first leader of the new unit, the “Watchtower Squad,” showed some unease.

“Are we supposed to guard this place?”

They would have to keep watch day and night, with no guarantee that monsters or dangerous

creatures wouldn’t appear.

Krais gave a solution as though it were obvious.

“You’ll get additional allowances.”

“Still…”

“Would you prefer to go through the more intense training?”

“I’ll guard the watchtower.”

Audin’s training was like an entry into hell for new recruits.

The saying, “If you want to die, become a soldier,” was often heard.

Still, many came seeking to become soldiers.

The Border Guard was changing day by day.

At the heart of it all was Krais.

He had been involved in so many projects.

As a side effect, Shinar also became busier.

Her unit was in the process of surveying the newly acquired swamp area.

It was undoubtedly a busy time.

Yet, she continued to visit Enkrid regularly, asking him if he was busy.

“Well, you can come when I’m less busy.”

Enkrid responded, but for Shinar, it was a ridiculous question.

“We have a date.”

“…Ah.”

It seemed like Shinar was more persistent than Enkrid, but Enkrid’s intuition told him that she

wasn’t just coming for a date.

There was something else.

Otherwise, she would have suggested going out to the market already, but that wasn’t the case.

“I’ll ask when the time comes.”

That was all she said.

“Let’s enjoy ourselves today, fiancé.”

Shinar drew her sword.

Enkrid, too, unsheathed his silver sword.

It felt as if the sword had forgotten its previous owner and now fit perfectly in his hand.

“You’ve surpassed me now.”

As they sparred, Shinar remarked that Enkrid’s skill had surpassed hers.

Enkrid didn’t deny it.

He felt the same way.

As always, the duel was nearing its end.

Shinar stepped back, tilting her head up and looking directly into Enkrid’s face. Her lips parted.

“This won’t do.”

After that, she spoke.