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Chapter 6 – His grip should have been torn apart.

Another repeating day.

Enkrid spent each and every one of those days meaningfully.

Not a single day was wasted.

‘I’m an ordinary man.’

In terms of swordsmanship, he couldn’t be called a genius or even a prodigy.

He certainly wasn’t a genius.

After the eighth failure, Enkrid thought.

‘I tried to finish a meal with just one stab of a fork.’

He was nowhere near being a genius, a prodigy, or even an outstanding person.

Enkrid divided his work.

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