Chapter 10 - He Stabbed

"Guh."

The guy wielding the throwing axe let out a final scream.

A poison-coated dagger was lodged in his side, and a spearhead was pierced through his throat.

"Grrrggh."

Bubbling blood from his lips, the light faded from his eyes.

That was the end of it.

Encrid watched the man's eyes before stepping back.

"Uwaaaah!"

An ally right next to him let out a roar.

In response, the enemy in front of him roared as well.

"Kuaaargh!"

Both were massive. The way they crashed into each other made it seem like two carriages had collided head-on.

The two of them grappled with each other and began to spin around and around.

Watching them, Encrid stepped back.

What must one do to preserve their body?

There were more than just one or two lessons he had learned from throwing his life away over a hundred and twenty times.

The way to preserve oneself.

It was to avoid fighting as much as possible.

Encrid played it safe.

"Die!"

"Fucking bastard."

Swords and spears, axes and clubs rushed in, spitting curses instead of battle cries.

"Don't touch my brother, you piece of shit."

The final words left by a dying soldier.

"Bullshit. Even if you say that, I'm not taking responsibility for your brother."

A soldier pretending to be calm after hearing his comrade's dying words.

"Die! Die!"

A new recruit who had lost his reason to the heat of the battlefield.

"That crazy bastard."

"Leave him be. Looks like he's trying to imitate a berserker."

A veteran taking care of his squadmates while watching the rampaging recruit.

"My name is Bar—Guh!"

An enemy soldier dying while trying to show off by stating his name.

An ally mocking him as he pulled out his thrust spear.

FWOOSH.

A foot stomped the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt.

He could see the dust drifting lazily in the blazing sunlight.

Beside it was an enemy soldier spewing blood.

And beside him was an ally who had fallen with a smashed head.

Chunks of flesh were scattered on the ground, and blood soaked the earth.

No matter how much he played it safe.

He couldn't survive in the middle of a battlefield doing absolutely nothing.

'Hup, hooooh.'

He took a short breath in and let out a long breath out.

Encrid controlled his breathing.

As soon as his breathing steadied, he saw a spearhead flying at him through the dirt and dust.

Encrid gripped his shield loosely and blocked the spearhead.

CLANG!

The spearhead struck the shield and bounced off to the side.

Thanks to his loose grip on the handle, he was able to deflect the impact.

At the same time, a club flew in diagonally from the side.

Encrid ducked forward to dodge the club and threw himself at the man wielding it.

He shoved the opponent's chest with his shoulder. As the man fell, Encrid drew his dagger and plunged it into his thigh.

RIIIIP!

The blade tore through the thick fabric and carved a long wound into the opponent's thigh.

"You son of a bitch!"

The enemy soldier shouted and shoved Encrid away.

Using the force of the shove to balance himself, Encrid drew his sword and swung it horizontally.

A thigh injury makes movement difficult. The faltering opponent failed to dodge, and the blade struck his neck.

SLASH!

The blade had gone halfway in. Encrid put his strength into it and pulled the blade back.

CRRRRCH.

The blade slipped out, severing muscles, nerves, tendons, and bone.

As blood began to gush out, the soldier clamped his palms over his neck.

Naturally, trying to plug a wound like that with a hand changed nothing.

Encrid didn't look back. He knew someone else would block the spearman who had struck his shield earlier.

"You fucking bastard!"

It was Bell. He hadn't saved him for nothing. By saving him, Bell would keep circling around him and watching his back.

He was a loyal friend.

CLANG! CLANG!

The sound of clashing metal rang out continuously.

Encrid tore his attention away from his dead opponent and picked up a stone off the ground.

Then he turned and threw it immediately.

An enemy soldier, fighting evenly against Bell, flinched as the stone struck his back.

SMACK!

Bell swung his spear shaft and smashed the guy's head.

It was a brilliant strike.

"I think I've paid off my debt?"

Bell said, panting heavily.

"Do you really think so?"

How could he try to pay off a life debt so easily?

"Maybe I only paid half of it."

Bell vigorously scratched his helmet with a bloodstained hand.

Not that it would provide any relief.

Bell subtly stepped back. Having fallen once, he had learned to play it safe too.

Following the flow of the battlefield, Encrid also shifted his steps bit by bit.

"Spare me... Grggh."

He saw a soldier bubbling blood as he begged.

It was a familiar face.

The dice gambler whose death he had witnessed countless times.

"I couldn't save you."

Encrid said calmly.

He had tried countless times, but saving him was impossible.

Like that, he stepped into the battlefield.

Among the approaching enemy soldiers, he searched for the pervert who shouted for mercy.

It wasn't hard.

The moment he found him, Encrid drew his last remaining dagger and threw it in time with his running pace.

STEP, SWISH, WHOOSH!

The throwing dagger traced a solid line through the air at a timing no ordinary guy could dodge.

CLANG!

The man twisted his body and took the dagger with his shoulder.

The dagger entered at an angle, struck his pauldron, and bounced off.

Even though it was a reflexive action, it was a near-perfect defense.

Encrid felt a glare fixated on him.

He figured out the throwing position the moment he blocked the dagger and was already looking this way?

He thought this time and time again, but that Stabbing Pervert was no ordinary guy.

The man charged. With every hard step that kicked off the ground, bloodstained dirt flew backward.

The distance between them was only a few paces.

So, it was time to test everything he had realized in this repeating today.

His body was in better condition than ever before.

Therefore, his preparations were complete.

The man swung his sword straight down. Encrid raised his shield.

CRACK!

He felt a heavy force from the blade striking the oiled wood.

["The basics of swordsmanship? It's strength."]

It was what one of the swordsmanship instructors had said.

["Skill beats strength? Hah, what a joke. Then try beating a Frog using only skill!"]

["Do you know how many idiots have died trying to do bullshit like deflecting when fighting a giant?"]

["The foundation of swordsmanship is muscle strength. Muscle strength. So get rolling."]

Thanks to that teacher, he had been able to build his body properly.

Encrid, holding his shield, was not easily pushed back.

In terms of pure strength, he was about equal to his opponent.

"Hmph!"

The Stabbing Pervert scoffed.

While his vision was obscured by the shield, the guy kicked his ankle.

Encrid blocked the guy's toe with his shin guard.

Iron-plated boots were weapons in and of themselves.

THUD.

A sharp pain shot up his shin, but it wasn't broken.

That was enough.

Pushing the shield outward, he drew his sword and swung it from bottom to top.

SWISH!

The Stabbing Pervert, as if expecting it, had already stepped out of the sword's range.

Then, he lunged forward even deeper than the distance he had retreated.

It was a charge aimed at the opening created by the sword swing.

"Hah!"

Encrid let out a shout and swung his shield like a blunt weapon with all his might.

The charging Stabbing Pervert tucked his chin tightly.

SMACK!

Struck in the head, the guy fell to the side.

Encrid, about to swing his sword again, stepped back.

SWOOSH.

While fallen on the ground, the man drew a dagger and swung it diagonally.

If he had rushed in just like that, he would have taken a blade right above his shin guard.

He had seen the guard's position in that brief window and found the opening.

The world would call something like that talent.

Encrid had had to die countlessly and learn the Heart of a Beast just to do that.

But his opponent hadn't.

However, the man lacked the proficiency born from rolling around endlessly on the battlefield.

Even Encrid could see that. The opponent was either a new recruit or a soldier with little battlefield experience. Otherwise, he wouldn't charge in so recklessly.

It was the same when they first met.

The guy had almost fallen for his thrust.

He had absolutely zero experience, but his talent was dazzling.

Even so, Encrid wasn't envious.

'I can beat him.'

He could do it. Confidence surged within him. He intuited that all the 'todays' he had lived through up until now would not be in vain.

It was time for the effort he had spent alongside death to be rewarded.

"This bastard."

He saw venomous eyes.

The man clumsily got to his feet, and in the meantime, another ally squeezed in between Encrid and him.

Without hesitation, the Stabbing Pervert crouched down and struck the ally's shin with his sword hand.

CRACK.

The sound of breaking bone.

Whenever an ally intervened, it was always that pattern.

Following up by stabbing the ally's neck with a dagger was all part of one fluid motion.

An attack pattern as fluid as flowing water.

It was a pattern he already knew.

The Stabbing Pervert thrust the dagger he had drawn.

The startled allied soldier couldn't do anything but widen his eyes.

Right before the blade could pierce his neck.

The soldier's body was suddenly yanked backward.

SHHK, SCRAPE.

Instead of piercing his neck, the blade stabbed his cheek, brushed past his temple, and scraped his helmet.

"Hup!"

The startled ally fell flat on his back. He was so shocked that he just sat on his rear, panting heavily without being able to speak.

Encrid, flexing the hand that had grabbed the ally's neck instead of his sword, stepped in front of the soldier.

"Get back."

This was his fight.

That was his opponent.

He was the target Encrid needed to use to confirm what he had achieved.

THUMP.

His heart pounded.

Encrid felt a mix of complex emotions.

Starting with whether it was even right to move past this today.

Doubts about whether he could beat this opponent.

A blindly blooming competitive spirit.

And even the baseless intuition that he had to overcome the opponent in front of him to move forward to the next step.

"I won't hold back."

The Stabbing Pervert said.

Look at how ridiculous this is.

Regardless of his talent, it was proof of his lack of experience.

If he was truly going to take this seriously.

'He should have shown an opening instead of talking.'

Since he got hit, he should have feigned weakness and counterattacked.

If he wanted to win, he should have done that.

So, Encrid did it instead.

"Hoooh, hoooh."

He deliberately breathed heavily.

He flinched at every slight hand gesture from his opponent.

The opponent's eyes, which had looked red at one point, were a plain brown.

Those brown eyes gleamed.

The Stabbing Pervert closed the distance in a long stride and slashed with his sword.

SWISH!

It was at an entirely different speed from before.

THUMP.

His heart pounded. There was no panicking or closing his eyes.

For the Heart of a Beast is always bold.

["Just watch it until the end, and dodge it with a swoosh."]

Rem always said that.

He had thought Rem was teasing him.

He wasn't.

He could see it. Tensing his ankle, he twisted his body.

The blade whistled past his shoulder.

Right after dodging, he slashed his sword horizontally.

CLINK.

The opponent held up his dagger.

Encrid's sword and the man's dagger formed a cross.

SKRRRCH!

Applying force in that state, he scraped the blade, sending sparks flying.

The man twisted his dagger diagonally, deflecting the blade to the side.

Encrid aborted his thrust and pulled his shield close to his body.

CLANG!

A blade struck the edge of the shield.

Sparks flew from this side too.

The Stabbing Pervert had already pulled his sword back and swung it.

Had he only suffered this one or two times?

The pattern was familiar.

When he quickly turned his head, the enemy was already out of sight.

Without hesitating, Encrid raised his sword vertically and slammed it into the ground.

The man, who had been charging with a low posture, halted.

The tip of the sword embedded itself deeply into the blood-soaked earth.

The guy, awkwardly hunched over, merely lifted his head.

The murderous intent in his eyes was brutal.

"Petty tricks."

Along with his words, he ground his teeth with a crunch.

Petty tricks are also a skill, you punk.

Encrid didn't answer.

Instead, he dug his toe into the dirt and kicked it at his opponent.

FWOOSH!

"Ugh!"

The man swiftly covered his face with his forearm.

He blocks this with his reflexes again.

Not that he'd only seen this scene once or twice.

It was no big deal.

"You bastard!"

When he holds the upper hand, he bluffs and preaches mercy.

And his eyes fill with a despicable joy.

But when pushed into a corner, he quickly loses his temper.

Encrid had long since figured out his personality.

As he stood up, the man charged again.

CLANG! CLACK! THWACK!

As he continuously blocked the barrage of sword strikes with his shield, the shield soon began to creak.

While relentlessly pushing the assault, the man closed the distance at some point and thrust his dagger.

He was aiming for the side.

He had fallen for this before and died gasping for air.

Encrid raised his elbow to block.

THUD!

The blade was stopped by the sturdy leather guard.

At the same time, Encrid thrust his forehead forward.

Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, close-combat skill.

Headbutt.

SMACK!

"Gah!"

Having headbutted with all his might, his head spun dizzily.

Usually, there would be a guy swinging a club from behind at this timing.

But not today.

There was no guy throwing axes either.

Instead of those two, Bell was there.

"Fuck, I'm helping!"

At Bell's shout, I replied.

"Just block anyone who tries to interfere."

'I told you, he's my opponent.'

As he fought down his rising nausea and regained his balance, he heard his thoroughly enraged opponent muttering.

"You crazy bastard."

'Yeah, if I'm dizzy, you must be dizzy too.'

His dizziness quickly faded.

"I'll enjoy watching you thrash around as you die."

The Stabbing Pervert took a stance. One foot forward, the other foot back.

A stance like a charging cavalryman.

What initiated from that stance was a thrust as fast as an arrow.

Tension constricted his heart.

And he loosened that constricted heart with his breathing.

'Be bold.'

Could he overcome the wall of talent with this repeating today?

It was time to find the answer.

The man moved.

He was merely a dot. That was all he looked like.

He had experienced it countless times, but it was still the same.

The dot soon became a flash of light and a blade, piercing through Encrid's body. No, he dodged it by a hair's breadth.

SWISH.

The blade grazed his side.

Read the stance, predict the target, and dodge in sync with the blade's movement.

Encrid's body faithfully followed his thoughts.

A burning pain trailed where his side was grazed.

He ignored it.

Instead, his left foot went forward, and his sword-holding hand went back.

He pulled his right elbow back hard. Like an arrow nocked on a bowstring.

He put his weight on his left foot, shifting his center of gravity.

He learned by watching.

He learned by being stabbed.

And he perfected it through sparring with Rem.

THUD.

When stepping forward, focus on balance rather than power.

Imbue the blade with intent.

'Thrust.'

Since that firm resolve was soon imbued into the sword.

He thrust his sword forward, releasing his tightly drawn muscles.

THUNK!

The tip of his sword, which he had constantly sharpened with a whetstone, pierced right around the pervert's heart.

It tore through the leather and thick cloth armor.

And reached his heart.

A sense of fulfillment washed over him, as if his sword, hand, and arm had become one.

The moment to savor a sense of accomplishment as the reward for his efforts.

"Hey!"

Someone shouted.

And Encrid didn't even register the shout.

Before he could even bask in the joy of victory.

WHAM!

Feeling a massive impact starting from his left side, he felt his body launch into the air.

'Huh?'

What is this?

It was a situation he had never experienced once in his hundred and twenty-five 'todays'.

"Frog!"

He didn't know if it was Bell or someone else, but he heard that shout.

That was Encrid's last memory.

He fainted.