'The curse is lifting.'
Esther thought to herself.
She had believed she would suffer for decades, tangled and ensnared by this wretched curse.
No, if luck turned sour, she might have suffered for over a hundred years.
Worse still, she could have spent her entire life with her world of spells tainted.
Even the thought of it was horrifying.
Because it was such a curse, she would have done anything to break it.
That's why she had once slept in the arms of that man, Encrid.
Now, there was no reason to do so, and it had become a rare occurrence.
The tangled threads of the curse were finally starting to unravel.
Luck was on her side.
While facing off against Galaf, who had gripped the river's current, she had regained some of her old senses, and even swallowed a few of the special objects he had.
Among them, it was only natural that there was something that helped restore her world of spells.
It would have been even better if she could have found and looted Galaf's private research lab, but when would she ever find it?
The man was notorious for having many disciples.
So, whatever treasures were left in the lab would belong to them.
They would covet, steal, and fight over it until only one remained to claim it.
A wizard's greed would make it so.
The idea of harmonious senior and junior disciples was nothing more than a dream.
After all, if they weren't driven by the desire to explore the truth and transcend the limits of humanity, they wouldn't even become wizards in the first place. What nonsense was that?
'Ah, idiots.'
Esther had once been caught up in such bickering, but not anymore.
The thought of Galaf's disciples eagerly battling each other brought a warm feeling to her heart.
No one could mistake Esther for having a gentle nature.
She knew that well.
For a wizard, she probably counted as one of the more sane ones.
'No, compared to the other lunatics I'm surrounded by, I'm definitely normal.'
The same could be said among the Madmen Platoon.
Her thoughts spiraled back, returning once more to the original matter.
She turned her focus back to the curse.
Esther fell deep into contemplation about her curse once again.
The curse hadn't only left behind bad things.
There had been advantages too.
It had been something she hadn't expected.
After all, she had even gained some strength similar to that of a Lake Panther.
Of course, since it was called a curse, it didn't only come with good things.
There were side effects as well.
And they were bigger problems than she had anticipated.
My body's shape memory has changed.
A physical being, a body, exists in the form it perceives itself to be.
Especially for wizards who manipulate the realm of spells, the world of the mind, they must accurately perceive their own body to maintain their physical form.
If not, they could be consumed by their world of spells and become a malevolent spirit.
'Should I push myself here?'
If she pushed too hard, she could still maintain her human form, but one small mistake and she might reach a point of no return.
Esther made her choice.
She gave up on strictly maintaining her human form.
Living as half-panther wouldn't be too bad.
She could figure out how to solve this issue in a different way later.
But there was something even more frustrating than that.
'Stagnation.'
Her world of spells had stagnated.
Even though she had resolved the curse and constantly pondered and deliberated, it had come to a standstill.
It had stopped.
There was no progress.
It left her deeply uncomfortable.
So, what should she do?
The same as before.
She would wait for inspiration, train her spells, and refine the shape of her world over and over again.
Wasn't there someone beside her who had broken through his limits with endless repetition?
Thinking of Encrid gave her an inexplicable sense of certainty that she too would somehow resolve her issue.
The frustration eased a little.
She felt better.
It was truly fascinating how just thinking of a person could have such an effect.
With her mind roughly settled on her own issues, Esther made her way back to the barracks.
Draped in her black robe, she walked between the soldiers' quarters.
She was a beauty who drew everyone's attention.
Usually, people couldn't help but stare, but today, there were fewer such glances.
'Hmm?'
She didn't feel disappointed.
She just sensed something was off.
Esther quickened her pace.
Soon, she saw Encrid.
More precisely, she saw Encrid fighting, destroying the barracks in the process.
It was purely by chance.
But chance itself was likely the result of the cause and effect accumulated over time.
Encrid had just driven back Teresa and Dunbachel by using the Crushing Sword three times in a row and was now pressuring Rem.
"You think this crap will work on me?!"
Rem shouted in defiance, swinging his axe over his head.
Boom!
There was no actual sound, but Esther heard something similar to that in her mind.
The spell 'D'muller's Scythe' was a spell that compressed wind to launch a vacuum blade.
It was an excellent spell in terms of both cutting power and speed.
What was wind and vacuum spell, after all?
To be precise, it was an art that manipulated pressure.
So what was the ultimate form of wind, pressure, and vacuum spells?
It was influencing atmospheric pressure.
That's how strange pressure anomalies appeared.
Some of the swordsmanship Encrid displayed lingered in Esther's mind, stimulating her thoughts.
A wizard immerses themselves in their own world.
If she slipped into meditation at this point, she knew she would stand there with a vacant expression, but there was no other choice.
It was an opportunity to weave something new into her world of spells.
She couldn't let it pass.
* * *
"What is this?"
Krais gave a sharp reprimand, and Encrid, summoning strength in his trembling legs, replied.
"A sparring match."
What else was there to say?
Krais didn't press further.
What's done was done.
What good would complaining do?
It wouldn't fix the wrecked barracks, and Encrid wasn't the type to reflect on it.
For whatever reason, a soft smile was curling at the corner of his lips.
He had a relieved expression.
That subtle smile had a way of making people feel at ease.
Naturally, Krais didn't feel like reprimanding him any further.
"Is this a rebellion? Are you planning to cut off my head and become the Lord now?"
Lord Graham, it seemed, had endured enough hardships, as his ramblings had grown more frequent.
"Do you really have to put it that way?"
Encrid parried and glanced to the side.
He saw a stunning beauty, who always stole attention wherever she went, standing still.
It was Esther.
He noticed she had come closer but then suddenly stopped, like a wax figure, quietly breathing without moving.
The soldiers watching had formed a circle around her.
None dared to lay a hand on her.
After all, Esther was part of the Madmen Platoon.
She was a wizard who could transform into a panther, wearing only a black robe, and had once said she'd gouge out the eyes of anyone who dared peek at her body.
In other words, she was extremely dangerous.
Encrid approached the wizard.
He saw that her eyes had gone unfocused.
What was wrong with her now?
He had no way of knowing.
It wasn't common for someone to see his swordsmanship and get inspired to make changes to their world of spells, and Encrid was no wizard.
There was no way he could understand.
Esther was highly sensitive about anyone touching her body.
The only one who could was Encrid.
He turned and embraced her.
Starting from her legs, he lifted her effortlessly.
As he held her, her body went limp.
She looked like someone who had mentally checked out while standing up.
Is this how it felt when he lost himself completely in the sword?
"She looks a lot like the Captain when he drools."
Krais muttered as he glanced over.
Encrid didn't bother to guess what was going on with Esther.
It was wizard business.
Who knew what was happening?
She should at least be put down on a bed.
Her eyes were glazed over, completely out of it.
But when Encrid turned around, all he could see was the wrecked barracks.
"Clear out one of the other barracks."
Graham stepped in.
"If you're after the Lord's seat, try asking instead of aiming for my neck."
Since when has this man become so fond of making jokes?
Encrid chuckled quietly.
Having poured out everything he had just learned and mastered, he felt relieved.
No, it was more than just relief.
He could see a path forward as well.
"You've changed, brother."
Audin complimented him.
"You're not bad."
Ragna muttered.
Dunbachel had fainted, and Teresa, who had recklessly rushed in, had her arm twisted by Audin.
Though it wasn't broken, she would need at least a day to rest.
Encrid laid Esther down as best he could and stepped outside.
After that, he went looking for Rem.
"You crazy bastard, did you roast someone's heart on the battlefield or something?"
That was Rem's way of saying Encrid had gotten stronger.
"Do people in the West gain strength by eating human flesh?"
"There are some madmen who believe that."
Rem said, wrapping himself in heated leather.
His sweat seemed to have cooled down.
They had all just moved to the barracks next door.
Apart from those inside, the only one outside was Rem.
That in itself was strange.
He wasn't going to wash up, and it didn't seem like he had anything to say, so why was he hanging around here?
Rem, of all people?
Encrid narrowed his eyes, but instead of staying silent, he spoke.
"Rem."
"What is it?"
"Never mind."
Right before the sparring, at the start of all this—why had the mood shifted the way it had?
It was because of Rem.
Encrid figured it out instinctively.
Audin had also subtly hinted at it.
He hadn't had much time to observe Rem closely, being busy with people constantly seeking him out, but he had noticed something strange in Rem's demeanor.
Not exactly dangerous, but he definitely exuded a sharp tension.
Would Rem give a straight answer if asked what was going on?
Perhaps.
But even if he knew, what could he do about it?
"You always stop halfway when you're talking. Isn't it annoying to leave things unfinished?"
Rem grumbled.
At least that sharp edge, which had been almost dangerous, had softened for the time being.
Encrid decided to skip the back-and-forth questions.
"Tomorrow morning."
"What?"
"We'll have a proper spar."
One-on-one.
When Encrid finished speaking with his eyes, a small smile crept onto Rem's lips.
"You really have no plans to get that head of yours checked, do you? What, do you think you can handle me by yourself?"
"Just don't cry when you lose."
Encrid skillfully retorted with his tongue.
Rem laughed out loud at that.
"Alright then, fine. I'll make sure you end up in tears."
After exchanging something akin to a challenge, Encrid walked away, and Rem quietly gazed up at the sky from where he stood.
The stars shone brightly in the night sky.
The warmth of the heated leather and the warmth stones wrapped around his body.
As he heard the sound of Encrid's footsteps fading away, Rem felt his mind settle.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
What does that guy know, acting like that?
The thought crossed his mind.
What could he possibly know?
Rem recalled that lazy idiot with no sense of direction.
'What have you been up to?'
He wondered to himself.
Of course, there was no need to ask directly.
Encrid had changed.
Rem had noticed the difference.
That was what started all of this.
It was the reason for the strange tension in the air.
It wasn't Ragna's provocation, it was Rem who had sensed it.
He knew that Encrid's swordsmanship would be different from before.
You could tell just by looking.
There was a subtly altered atmosphere.
Of course, you only truly know by fighting.
You only know who's stronger after crossing swords.
If the difference in skill isn't obvious, that's how it goes.
The issue was that Rem had reacted to that change.
He had become sensitive.
'What if I use the sling?'
Naturally, he began thinking of ways to counter Ragna.
His spirit rose, provoking Ragna, and Ragna had no intention of backing down.
"Do you want to be buried that badly?"
Ragna didn't hold back with his taunts either.
And it wasn't in Rem's nature to retreat.
"I'll break your skull."
That was how it started.
Rem looked up at the night sky and thought.
'Is this the price for what I gave up?'
Even such thoughts crossed his mind.
His memory reached far into the past.
He recalled the curse a fortune teller had placed on him when he left.
"You're giving up that power, that right? You will pay the price."
"Yeah, I'll handle it."
Rem had said, turning his back.
At those words, the fortune teller had pounded their chest and coughed up blood.
They had been so furious.
But the past is the past, and the present is the present.
Ragna is Ragna, and Rem is Rem.
'That damn stray cat.'
If Jaxon had been around, would things have been a little less tense?
He didn't like the guy, but he couldn't really wish him dead either. Encrid was too much of a central figure for that.
This time, Ragna's change had triggered something like a competitive spirit in him, but Rem decided to shake it off.
'If things go bad, I can always go back and take it.'
In the past, in the place where he was born and raised, there was something he had left behind.
What would happen to the thing he had given up? If he were to retrieve it, he would easily be able to look down on people like Ragna from above.
* * *
The next morning, after moving to a new barracks, Encrid began his early morning training.
Audin had suggested they do proper training after a few days of observation.
Even now, Encrid would sweat profusely each morning, his arms and legs trembling. So, what exactly was this 'proper training'?
Just hearing about it gave Dunbachel second thoughts.
'Should I quit?'
Teresa, though she didn't show it outwardly, had pupils that wavered.
That's how extreme Audin's training methods were, far beyond normal standards, yet Encrid remained calm.
"I'm looking forward to it."
He had said.
Hearing this, Teresa and Dunbachel both realized just how strong-willed Encrid was.
It also served as a motivation for the two of them.
Having someone next to you who never gives up, no matter what, had ignited a fire within the half-blood Giant and the beastkin as well.
'I won't fall behind.'
Dunbachel reaffirmed her determination.
'The Wandering Teresa doesn't know the meaning of surrender.'
She thought.
And so, after finishing the morning training, Encrid was about to spar with Rem.
"Company Commander."
A messenger came running to call for Encrid.
"What is it?"
"You need to come right away."
After driving out Count Molsen, Encrid had personally handled the fallout of the situation caused by him.
It was a hassle, but it was the right thing to do.
However, losing training time because of this was a different matter.
"A noble?"
He couldn't just tell them to go away.
Even if it was a lower-tier noble, one without hereditary rights, a noble was still a noble.
Encrid was truly annoyed.
He suddenly felt the need to find a solution to this issue.
There was a process he had been considering.
Encrid called for it.
"Krais?"
He better not be slacking off.
No matter what, Encrid had no intention of letting anything interfere with his training and conditioning just to deal with people who sought him out.
Encrid's resolve was clear.
Rubbing his eyes, Big Eyes—who had just woken up—replied, "Yes?" with a yawn before speaking.
"Time to make a move, don't you think?"
He said.
Encrid nodded in agreement.
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