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The question from the ferryman lingered in his mind.

“Do you think knowing will help you win?”

Enkrid remembered his own answer.

“I don’t care if I know.”

It was the truth—there wasn’t a single lie in it.

What mattered more was that fighting the shepherd was incredibly enjoyable.

How should I put it?

The half-blood giant, Jevikal, Count Molsen’s guard, the rapier-wielding swordsman, and all those who had been by his side: Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, Audin.

All of them had been motivating, but the shepherd was different.

The skill was almost equal, and the attitude, the age—everything was a factor.

Above all, Enkrid felt like he was advancing.

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