Chapter 928 - Both
"Your death will be no different."
The Ferryman spoke.
Today, his face was obscured by a wavering veil of purple light.
In the past, his features had occasionally been visible, but not today.
It looked as if he were wearing a mask—or perhaps heavy makeup.
"Is that mask your idea of dressing up?"
Enkrid asked.
It was a jab, asking if he was covering his face because it was too hideous to show.
The light veiling the Ferryman's face flickered briefly.
He didn't reveal his irritation, instead deflecting with a retort.
"A nasty joke."
Enkrid pushed himself off the boat's railing and stood up.
The railing was higher than before, and the boat itself was larger.
He recalled a scene that had flashed by in the dream-within-a-dream just moments ago.
On a boat similar to this one, a swordsman had fought desperately, swinging a blade wrapped in something like a cord.
Around him, monsters the size of human heads charged endlessly, tearing at his flesh.
'Jaws and teeth capable of crushing human bones in an instant.'
They were undoubtedly monsters.
Just as scholars claimed the Monster Encyclopedia would never be complete, no one could know every creature in existence.
These were forms he was seeing for the first time.
'Each individual was dangerous, but...'
The numbers were truly horrific.
Thousands?
No, tens of thousands.
Everywhere except the boat was their domain.
Trapped in the center of that swarm, fighting and fighting until death.
That vision had passed by, too.
The version of himself in that dream was a considerable expert, yet even he couldn't endure.
His end came with him stabbing his sword into the deck, kneeling on one knee in a posture of acceptance.
It was the attitude of someone who had resigned himself to the inevitable.
"Did you think your end would be any different?"
Even without exceptional intuition, it wasn't hard to understand what the dreams meant.
'The Ferryman's dreams.'
To be precise, they were the ends of countless Ferrymen.
By revealing their own demises, they were telling Enkrid that his end wouldn't be beautiful, either.
Since he didn't listen to words, they gave examples.
Since he didn't accept examples, they showed him reality.
"You're working hard."
That remark came from seeing through the theatrics.
The Ferryman knew Enkrid had caught on.
"Your future is a single drop of water placed on a swaying line. You cannot move forward forever."
At the slightest shake, you will fall and become part of the pitch-black river.
The purple waves covering the Ferryman's face rippled.
Enkrid stood up and looked straight into the Ferryman's eyes, piercing through the veil to the face hidden beneath.
"What is it you really want to say?"
His mind wouldn't change over scare tactics.
The Ferryman couldn't possibly be unaware of that.
The Ferryman's inner thoughts were like the filling of a well-baked pie.
If it's apple pie, the fresh scent hints at the filling; if it's minced meat, the savory aroma reveals the contents long before you take a bite.
What the Ferryman was doing now was the same.
The only difference was that he didn't want to reveal what was inside him.
But can a scent be hidden just by covering it?
What was the identity of that faintly drifting scent?
'Hesitation? Indecision?'
He glimpsed it.
The moment Enkrid observed and perceived it, the Ferryman tore off the purple mask covering his face with his left hand.
No sound was made, but a crack echoed like an auditory hallucination.
The purple mask stretched out like sticky mucus, then snapped and fell away.
Thud.
Tearing off the mask, the Ferryman hurled it into the black river.
"Frustrating."
The Ferryman's tone shifted as he revealed his face, but to Enkrid's eyes, the gray skin looked like just another mask.
The Ferryman spoke, his green eyes shining—a gaze that seemed capable of piercing through any disguise.
"If you had to choose one of two options, what would you do? It is time to solve a dilemma, mortal."
This time, his voice sounded almost excited.
Thump.
With that, Enkrid woke from the dream.
A dream is just a dream; he got out of bed without attaching much meaning to it.
Another today had begun.
It was time to prepare for the swordsman Krais mentioned and accumulate the strength needed to deal with the demons.
The servant who handled minor errands like fetching water every dawn asked from outside the door.
"For breakfast today, sir—would you prefer lamb or pork?"
Knights eat a lot.
Among them, Enkrid ate far more than the average knight.
To maintain his abnormal muscular strength and agility, supplying massive amounts of nutrition to the body was a basic necessity.
Naturally, his digestive system had developed to match.
The servant in charge of breakfast knew this well.
Therefore, the Knight Commander's answer didn't sound all that strange.
"Both."
He would eat both lamb and pork to his fill.
That was Enkrid's choice.
'Perhaps this is the dilemma of choosing one of two?'
Choosing what to eat is a problem to worry about every day.
Although Enkrid mostly chose to eat everything.
-As if.
Somehow, the illusion of the Ferryman seemed to click his tongue.
***
"What kind of people live in Yohan?"
Ropord bent his knees, stabbed the neck of a viper monster hiding under his feet, and asked.
Thwack.
If he had drawn the Inscribed Weapon named Rampart, he wouldn't have needed to bend his legs, but he had deliberately drawn his short sword to stab it.
He felt it was a waste to stain his main blade with a monster's blood.
"If your hand isn't familiar with the weapon yet, you should be swinging it even at nothing."
Ragna answered.
It wasn't an answer to the question, but a critique of the action.
"I see."
Ropord accepted the correction easily.
If one cherishes an Inscribed Weapon too much, the hand grows unfamiliar with it, inviting danger.
It was a teaching contained in a few short words.
Ropord ruminated on it a few times and etched it into his heart.
This was a mountain range ordinary people would have to risk their lives to cross, but for these two, it wasn't a rough path.
Occasionally, a few monsters and beasts appeared, but both men were knights.
Furthermore, one of them, though recently defeated, was a genius among geniuses acknowledged by everyone.
The other, had he not joined the Madmen Knights, was skilled enough to compete as a successor to any Knight Order.
"Just people live there. It's no different just because it's Yohan."
Ragna finally answered the question about his home, but he felt awkward even as he spoke.
The words felt like eating a terribly tasteless stew.
"I see."
Ropord didn't press further, and the two headed straight for Yohan.
Along the way, Ragna argued for a shortcut through the forest, but Ropord ignored him completely.
He had received a lecture bordering on brainwashing from Krais and a map from Enkrid specifically for guidance.
"Yes, that certainly looks like a shortcut."
He answered politely but continued on his own path.
"Your words and actions don't match, Ropord."
"Ah, do they not?"
Watching Ropord, Ragna thought that everyone in the order was somehow beginning to resemble the Captain.
Ropord was sly, but he led Ragna calmly.
Also, as instructed, every time a monster or beast appeared, he swung his weapon.
"When swinging from top to bottom, commit your force until the very end. If you relax just because you think you've cut through, your next movement will be blocked. If the opponent you thought you killed uses a trick, you're dead. Do not blindly trust your senses."
To Roford, every word Ragna said was more precious than gold. p
Although the expression was crude and the explanation clumsy—like a seven-year-old trying to sew a patch on clothes—the core was clear.
'The core is clear.'
When one becomes a knight, reliance on intuition increases.
Ragna was warning him not to fight trusting only that.
He didn't understand everything.
Some of it sounded like gibberish.
Still, it didn't matter.
Ropord had spent a long time in the Madmen Knights.
He had learned the art of listening from Enkrid.
Furthermore, he didn't ignore his experience from his days in the Crimson Cloak Knights; he ruminated on the necessary parts.
'If you can't understand the logic, memorize the action.'
In his days in the capital, he had memorized and chewed on everything he didn't understand.
Back then, it was rare for anyone to kindly point out the path forward.
There were many men whose goal was simply to catch a single word of wisdom from a visiting knight.
If Fel specialized in senses, Ropord certainly specialized in intelligence.
He knew how to use his head.
Perhaps that was why Krais looked for him whenever something happened.
Anyway, the core of Ragna's words stuck in his ears and crossed into the realm of understanding instantly.
Naturally, this was only possible because of the days of effort he had accumulated.
'How to prepare for a deceiving sword.'
Meaning: obsess over the perfection of the technique rather than what is seen on the surface.
'Even when swinging the sword once, put intention into it.'
Use technique befitting the intention.
Ropord ruminated and chewed on his realizations again and again.
If he slacked off even a little here, he would be overtaken by that bastard Fel.
'That won't do.'
Also, Ragna wasn't a person interested in others.
It was rare for him to teach something like this.
Ropord didn't miss the opportunity.
"It would have been fine to swing the sword and then move."
The meaning of the remark was to use the sword before the feet.
Although the subject was missing from the sentence, Roford understood it as if possessed.
Whether holding a sword or a spear, the basis of fighting is footwork.
Naturally, since Ropord was also a knight, his basics were solid.
Then, just a moment ago, Ragna spat out words deviating from those basics.
'Why the sword first?'
It was a technique Ragna had reinterpreted from Oara's Connecting Sword.
'If it connects, it's all the same.'
A knight demonstrates movements an ordinary person wouldn't dare attempt.
Even extending a sword while arching the waist backward, they can split a skull like a ripe pumpkin.
'The point where force acts changes ceaselessly.'
That was the core Ragna conveyed.
Even without blindly trusting a knight's senses, it was foolish not to utilize the physical capabilities of a knight.
"The way you use Will is crude."
Ropord agreed with those words.
He had fought like that until now—faithful to the basics, never crossing the line.
Opposite to Fel, who crossed the line ceaselessly.
'Wasn't that my weapon?'
Ragna didn't explain.
He just threw out the words necessary for that moment.
Digesting it was Ropord's share of the burden.
'Is it better to have multiple weapons?'
It was a moment where words Enkrid said suddenly came to mind.
Night in the mountains comes early, and the sunlight tilting to one side created a winter sunset.
The speed at which the light faded was very fast.
Shadows lengthened, and the lingering light fractured into dozens of colors.
The day was ending.
It signaled the end of the time called today.
Ropord felt one of his fixed thoughts shattering.
"Excel in one thing, but train until that excellence to become ordinary again. When everything balances, break the balance once more."
These were words that could only be spoken by a person who had crawled up from the bottom, examined every peak, and kept climbing.
Those words touched Ropord's heart now.
'Break the world I made and fill it again.'
When filled, empty it again.
If you want to move forward, you must do so.
Making everything you possess feel "ordinary" couldn't possibly be easy.
'Still, I will do it.'
Only then could he move forward, and only then could he achieve what he wanted.
Neither Ragna nor Ropord felt bored.
They each had much to think about in their own way.
While Ropord obsessed over swordsmanship and technique, Ragna ruminated on what he had said earlier.
'Just people.'
The answer to the question of what kind of people lived in Yohan.
Words spat out without thought because Ropord asked.
But as he said them, they tasted rough in his mouth.
For some reason, the thought didn't leave his head the entire way.
Before, he would have ignored it with the excuse that it was annoying.
That indifference was part of him, too—but not now.
'Do not use my weak parts as an excuse.'
Saying he lost because he had no time, or lacked talent, or had nothing—to Enkrid, those were just excuses.
Then to him, they were excuses, too.
'If I am lacking, I do as one who is lacking.'
Wasn't that the most impressive trait his Captain showed?
Like that, Ragna looked back on himself.
Had he ever watched those living in Yohan with genuine interest?
No such memory existed.
'Walking a set path is boring.'
Boredom was the shackle binding Ragna's life.
Using that as an excuse, he looked back at nothing and paid attention to no one.
It was while walking immersed in such thoughts that they arrived.
"Little brother?"
It was near the city of Yohan.
Someone who recognized Ragna approached readily.
"Grida."
Ragna also recognized her.
"What?"
A woman holding a greatsword strode over.
No wariness was visible in her stance.
However, revealing a faint disappointment, she spoke.
"He didn't come with you? Is our Enki doing well?"
Ropord could guess what she expected without asking.
'The Demonic Charm Knight.'
Should he say Captain Enkrid's nickname was shining bright?
"If he had come this time, I intended to challenge him once more."
Grida Yohan said jokingly.
There seemed to be no need to ask what the challenge entailed.
Ragna nodded roughly, half-listening.
Neither cared much about the other's words or attitude.
Grida, briefly greeting Ropord, guided the two into the city.
***
If you enjoy the series and want to get more chapters early, head over to https://payhip.com/Samowek
Next 100 chapters - 25e [Be sure to message me on discord for any information]
[SHOP BEST BUY] - 50e - Every chapter translated - Latest WN-1075 + daily chapters from monday to friday for a month.
-KNIGHT - Cost 20e - Chapters 1000-1075 + daily chapters from Monday to Friday for a month
I welcome you to join our discord https://discord.gg/RY7BbJpeAZ
**ANY INFO ONLY APPLIES TO THE LATEST CHAPTER HERE ON WEBNOVEL**