YM778.TV Chapter 137
It’s a name given because it embodies the essence of drawing out the heart of a beast.
Originally, in his tribe, it was believed that when using this technique, some God or mystical power would reside within them.
Well, there is some mystical effect.
A God? That’s just a fairy tale.
‘But it’s far from real magic.’
Rem, who had personally experienced and developed this concept, had his own theory.
‘It’s something that comes from within the body that makes the heart beat faster.’
The human body is mysterious. This is one of those mysteries. When something inside starts to activate, the muscles become tense.After that, the Heart of the Beast is triggered.
So, it’s neither magic nor divine descent.
When did he first realize this?
It was during a moment of near-death among countless axe blades when something surged from within him, reaching his muscles, allowing him to exert strength several times greater than usual.
How did this happen?
After investigating and studying, he realized that when blood began to surge wildly throughout the body, the heart would beat several times faster than normal.
Although a mystical trigger was necessary for this, the core of it was not mystical.
He thought it was a matter of concentration or sensation.
“Focus. Again.”
Rem continued his thoughts aloud.
Encrid stood before him. Soon, they placed their hands on each other’s hearts.
There was a technique for enhancing concentration that a lazy person had taught, so it might work.
Well, if it doesn’t, so be it.
Rem had already half given up. What could he do?
Even in the past, only a handful of his tribe had realized this.
And those who did were all exceptionally strong, possessing bodies as tough as iron, yet they had often narrowly escaped death.
“I felt like I had just stepped out of a river.”
He often heard such things.
In other words, the Heart of the Beast requires the vessel first.
Even if activated properly, the body gets damaged first.
Could the Platoon leader handle this?
The vessel itself wasn’t bad.
Every morning, the bulky religious fanatic taught him rigorous body training.
That was precisely the act of tempering the body.
If the bulky religious fanatic hadn’t done it, Rem had intended to help train the Platoon leader’s body through other means.
However, the bulky religious fanatic’s methods seemed more efficient. So, he left it at that.
Therefore, the vessel was more or less prepared.
However, he had no intention of forcing it. If possible, he would instill it, but if not, he would naturally give up.
“Feel it.”
Encrid listened to Rem’s words. He listened attentively, as always, with a calm mind.
However, he had already realized something.
It was when he learned the Focus Point from Ragna.
He is a genius. So, he could easily learn anything. He must have realized anything easily.
What did he say back then?
‘Did he say the fear of death increases concentration?’
That was only half correct.
What was truly needed was an opponent who could push him to the very limits of his abilities, to the point of exhausting everything he had.
Even now, it was similar.
‘No, maybe it’s the opposite of that time.’
A small realization and a conclusion reached.
What exactly is the Heart of the Beast?
Humans can sometimes exert strength beyond their limits when faced with intense pressure or similar situations.
This was the inspiration behind the Heart of the Beast: the idea that one must feel the pressure of impending death to unleash it.
Encrid, with his various experiences from battles and his life up to now, especially accumulated today, layer upon layer, reached a conclusion based on those experiences.
“More.”
Rem touched Encrid’s heart, imparting a slight pressure, just enough to convey a sense of what the sensation should feel like.
Rem used a mystical approach here, perhaps one could say a sensory transmission, to convey the sensation that would make the heart beat faster.
“More.”
Encrid spoke, his eyes half-open, in a state of deep concentration.
“I’ve told you a few times, you need to be careful with this.”
The word ‘careful’ came from someone known to be beyond bold, even considered mad.
It sounded like a warning of potential death.
Danger, crisis, pressure.
These were things to be cautious about, things Encrid needed.
The mindset of standing at the edge of a cliff, bracing against a strong wind at one’s back.
Moments where one could die if things went wrong.
Moments of maximum desperation, where merely facing death wouldn’t suffice.
Literally, moments where one could die if things went wrong, were needed.
It would be best if this could be done while feeling the sensation of one’s heart racing.
“More.”
Encrid spoke again, still with his eyes half-open.
Rem’s brows furrowed.
Is this guy truly crazy?
Though he was the one usually called a madman, it seemed like Encrid was the crazier one now.
“Let’s stop.”
Rem attempted to lower his hand.
Suddenly, Encrid grabbed Rem’s wrist.
With his left hand on Rem’s chest and his right hand gripping the wrist that had been on his own chest, Encrid spoke again.
“Do it.”
Encrid’s eyes were half-closed, so Rem couldn’t see his eyes.
Has he truly lost his mind?
“Are you crazy?”
Rem’s eyes narrowed, growing fierce. Wasn’t this just asking to be killed by his own hand?
There are some things that can’t be solved with passion and desire.
There are times when one must acknowledge their limits by stepping back…
Rem’s thoughts were interrupted.
A voice cut through his thoughts, reason, and emotions.
“Just do it.”
It was an order. An order that had to be obeyed.
If words had power, Rem felt it now.
There was no magic, no spell, not even the ‘power’ that Knights often claimed as their own.
Deep in his heart, what was Encrid to Rem?
Encrid lifted his gaze. The eyes of the two men met, fire meeting fire.
Different in color, yet capable of completely consuming each other.
Blue fire and gray fire intertwined.
They stared at each other as if to kill.
Was there anything to gain from winning this battle?
Nothing.
At best, someone would end up severely injured, and it wouldn’t be him but the one standing before him.
So why?
Yet Rem wanted to do it. He felt compelled to obey the command.
He wanted to do it.
Was it because of some instinct he couldn’t ignore?
Or had he become too enthralled by the man before him, the Platoon leader?
“Do it.”
Encrid’s lips parted again.
“Damn it, hell.”
Rem cursed and tightened his grip on Encrid’s heart. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps Encrid had faith in something, which is why he gave the command.
After rationalizing it, Rem applied his full strength.
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
Let the blood circulate wildly throughout the body. The intense pressure of the rushing blood would soon align with the heart.
And thus, it would unleash a superhuman strength, surpassing all limits, throughout the entire body and muscles.
Thump.
Encrid felt terrible pain.
Being pierced by swords and spears, struck by arrows.
One might think he’d become numb to pain after dying and dying again, but…
For some reason, each death brought a different kind of pain.
Death, the ferryman of the black river, came to mind.
Thump, thump, thump-thump.
Encrid’s eyes flew open, red with blood. Rem watched those bloodshot eyes.
“Damn it.”
Why did I do this? Why did I listen to this guy?
Rem regretted it.
Encrid was satisfied. He smiled.
A small realization quickly became a signpost for the path he would walk.
Thump.
The last heartbeat ceased. Whatever had activated beyond its limits struck the heart and stopped it.
That was death.
Darkness began to envelop the surroundings.
“Stop.”
Amidst the darkness that had descended, Jaxon’s voice could be heard.
“Madman.”
Ragna’s voice also came through.
“Brother, what have you done?”
A rough hand gripped his wrist.
But it was all too late.
Neither divine intervention nor any miraculous medicine could save someone whose heart had stopped and who had been cradled in the arms of death.
Encrid was dead.
It was a unique experience. In some ways, it could even be considered suicide.
He felt there was no other way to obtain the Heart of the Beast, despite racking his brain over and over.
This was the result of today’s desperate attempt, believing it to be the best course.
To give up on the Heart of the Beast?
If he had thought of giving up and moving on like that,
‘I would have settled.’
He refused to settle. He pushed forward, even if it was only a half step at a time, or crawling if necessary.
A resonance twisted his entire body.
After overcoming waves of pain.
A ripple.
The darkness faded, and when he opened his eyes,he saw the ferryman of the black river.
There were no words. For the ferryman to speak or laugh, he had to show some intention. As of now, he offered neither laughter nor words.
There was only a blank stare.
That gaze was filled with curiosity and wonder.
‘What kind of person is this guy?’
When Encrid opened his eyes again, it was early morning. The start of a day like any other.
Sitting up on his bed, Encrid took a deep breath and spoke.
“I really think it’s messed up, Rem.”
“…I’m awake. I can hear everything.”
“I know.”
“But cursing in the morning? Did I appear naked in your dream?”
“No, it’s just really messed up.”
A technique that required risking death to even get a taste of it.
Isn’t that a truly messed up technique?
Even so…
Encrid, in a day just before death—a day Rem could not remember—smiled. He was satisfied.
The moment when a path became visible always filled him with joy.
“Good morning.”
Encrid spoke briefly and started his day.
“…You said it was messed up.”
Rem muttered with a pout from behind.
He thought that the Platoon leader wasn’t entirely normal.
Which wasn’t an incorrect assessment.
Encrid greeted a new day.
A spring day, in a season said to be imbued with magic.
The world was still in spring.
Encrid would have to enjoy this spring for a while.
It wouldn’t be easy to replace a heart anew.
“It really is a good day.”
Seeing a day where a path became visible, Encrid didn’t mind.
Afterward, Encrid died countless more times.
However, there were also days when he couldn’t die and had to endure the day.
Intentional death.
So, would he just move on to the next day? That thought crossed his mind.
It seemed to loop back to the first death.
Curious as to how things would turn out, but unable to convince Rem, he endured the day’s end by pushing his body to the limit.
Every time he slept and woke up, he returned to the original today.
It felt like a branching point started by death.
How does this even happen?
He wondered but soon dismissed the thought.
Thinking about it wouldn’t change anything, all he could do was get through today.
On the days he couldn’t die and had to endure, there was nothing he could do.
Even when he showed determination to Rem and spoke with sincerity and earnestness, the results varied.
“Trust me and do it.”
“No, damn it, do you think this even makes sense? This is driving me crazy.”
On successful days, when he convinced Rem, he saw an expression on Rem’s face he had never seen before.
A mix of confusion, astonishment, and something like being entranced.
“No, what’s impossible is impossible.”
On days when he couldn’t convince him, he saw a face filled with firm determination.
What was the difference between the two ‘todays’?
There didn’t seem to be much difference.
Speaking sincerely was the same.
The difference was just one thing.
After about sixty-six repetitions, he seemed to understand.
What was lacking beyond sincerity and earnestness?
He had to give an order. Why? Why did someone like Rem follow his words so obediently?
He felt a tinge of curiosity.
He postponed it. There would eventually be a chance to find out someday.
But that time wasn’t now.
“Do it.”
“Do it.”
“Do it.”
“Do it.”
“Do it.”
“Do it.”
“Do it.”
“Just do it.”
“Do it.”
“Just do it.”
“Just shut up and do what you’re supposed to do.”
Enduring countless ‘todays’.
Today passed, then another today, and yet another today.
“Huh? What is it?”
At some point, Rem’s touch was no longer necessary.
It was around the eightieth time.
After that, it felt like he was going mad on his own.
He had mastered the sensation without Rem’s assistance.
After repeating it several times,the ferryman of the black river appeared in his dreams again.
“That wasn’t a wall.”
The ferryman spoke, and Encrid listened. He still couldn’t respond.
There was no hint of emotion in the ferryman’s voice.
A small boat floating on the black river, the ferryman, the rippling water.
Encrid was on the boat.
“Go.”
With the ferryman’s words, Encrid opened his eyes.
He didn’t particularly question the words. He wasn’t curious.
He couldn’t even ask Rem about following his orders without hesitation.
So what good would it do to understand the ferryman’s thoughts, whose hobby seemed to be rowing?
Only the words “It wasn’t a wall” lingered deeply in his heart.
What is a wall?
It must be the obstacle causing the repetition of today.
The ferryman’s words implied that what he was doing was beyond his will.
‘So what am I supposed to do about it?’
Of course, it wasn’t Encrid’s concern. Whether the words left a deep impression or not, he brushed them aside.
There was much to do, and it was best to ignore the trivial.
“Good morning, Rem.”
Encrid greeted as he got up.
“Huh? How did you know I was awake?”
“Just did.”
How did I know? After repeating it over a hundred times, you get to know.
The start of a new day.
Encrid activated the Heart of the Beast.
Thump!
His heart pounded, infusing strength into his muscles. Blood rushed through his body as if it were galloping along a well-paved road.
Thump.
And his heart did not burst.
“…I just have two questions.”
Right behind him, Rem spoke. He had shown this to Rem deliberately, timing it for when Rem would appear, to prove that he had mastered it.
To show he had succeeded.
“One, are you perhaps from the west? And two…”
Rem chose his words carefully and then asked,
“Are you actually a genius?”
Encrid chuckled.
He hadn’t expected such a question from Rem.
He hadn’t anticipated it at all.
“No, neither.”
He answered simply, and Rem gave him a look of disbelief.
“But how did you do that in just one day?”
For Encrid, it wasn’t just a day. But from Rem’s perspective, it seemed like he had mastered a technique he couldn’t grasp just the day before.
With his entire skin flushed red from the exertion of the Heart of the Beast, Encrid spoke.
Pondering, being amazed, and bewildered were all fine, but…
“How about a sparring match?”
Didn’t he feel like testing his body right now?
“Sure, let’s do it.”
Rem responded positively. He wasn’t the type to dwell on worries either.
Thud.
Sword and axe.
They greeted each other. Once again, they engaged in sparring, another match, a moment to gauge their growth.
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