Chapter 104 - Delivering Retsha's Message

"Well, shit."

Pin bit her lip and muttered.

Only Encrid and Torres, trailing behind her, barely caught the dismay in her voice.

The three had barely turned back when they discovered a group of soldiers.

Leaning her shoulder against a gently curving corner, Pin stuck only her head out to look back, then threw the torch she was holding behind her.

Once the light source went flying away with a *WHOOSH* and vanished, the only light left came from the torches faintly illuminating the front.

In other words, their surroundings had gone black.

Torres lowered his stance and cast his gaze forward.

He had no knack for seeing through the dark, but thanks to training done for situations like this, he could roughly make out the enemy's numbers and equipment.

'Fuck, there are a lot of them.'

Even at a rough glance, there were more than twenty. On top of that, their equipment was no joke.

Crossbows were standard, they wore shortswords at their waists, and all of them were armed similarly.

What did that mean?

'A trained unit.'

The fact that they were not some ragtag mercenary mob was already a problem.

A group of trained soldiers was more dangerous than most packs of beasts or monsters.

Especially when they were enemies armed with crossbows in a narrow tunnel like this.

'We're dead.'

While Torres observed the enemy, Pin was thinking.

Should they turn the other way and go out toward Crossguard instead?

Had only their retreat path been blocked?

Or was there something on the path they had originally meant to take as well?

When Pin and Torres were falling into a light panic.

When they kept their mouths shut in case their voices were heard and racked their brains.

"Messenger, I'm Captain Roger's messenger!"

Encrid rushed out. Loud enough to show off his lungs, too.

Torres was shocked.

Pin was even more shocked.

She was so horrified she could not even think to reach out or make a sound.

'That crazy bastard.'

It was no different from suicide.

If even three or four of the crossbowmen fired their bolts, he would be skewered on the spot.

Even though Encrid could not have been unaware of that, there was no hesitation in his sprint.

Of course there wasn't.

Roger was the name of the commander of the long-spear unit.

He had thrown out words that would bewilder the enemy and make them falter.

"If you can't see an opening, then you make one. A fair-and-square contest? Does that save your life?"

That was something Jaxon had said.

Deceiving an opponent?

If it was necessary, why wouldn't he?

Just because he dreamed of becoming a knight did not mean he intended to become an idiot who only fought duels.

If it was a situation that required honor, he would act that way.

'But after they laid a trap, had a magician pull tricks, and even deployed werewolves on top of that, what the hell.'

Even so, it was not as if he had spent today simply to deceive the enemy.

Once the tension left his shoulders, his field of vision widened.

And that widened field of vision told Encrid what he could do and what he needed to gain.

Experiences from the past and experiences from recently.

The repeating today.

Within that gap, what should he seek and what should he gain?

There was no reason to struggle merely to escape today.

'Combat against many opponents.'

Experience fighting elite soldiers, no less, was not something one could get easily. Much less in a situation where he had fallen into a trap and could neither advance nor retreat.

The situation was different from the Tall Grass Fields.

Back then, all he had to do was avoid it.

Long spears and arrows, a commander's orders, the front blocked by shields and the rear raining down arrows.

A fleeting instant in which one wrong step meant death.

If he set his mind to it, he could dodge one or two incoming arrows, but how was he supposed to dodge arrows pouring down like rain?

It was not as if he could clumsily imitate a knight and strike down every arrow with his sword, either.

In other words, in a standoff against elite soldiers, there was no time to train swordsmanship.

It was a fight decided in an instant.

If he let his guard down, death came immediately.

What should he do in a moment like this?

What should he use as his weapon?

A line connecting point to point.

Seeing the points took only an instant, and connecting the line took only an instant.

There was one thing he realized.

'Instant judgment.'

Quick judgment to seize a momentary gap.

Even if they stayed here, the long-spear unit would come rushing in before half a candle burned down.

So what he had to do now.

He had to cut the throat of the damned crossbow unit commander and go wild.

Because unless he took hold of the arrows, he could not hope for tomorrow.

"Captain Roger? A messenger?"

This was a tunnel. Unless a torch was brought close, it was difficult to check a face.

It was even harder to check the uniform of the Aspen army.

And even if there was someone sharp-eyed among them.

How were they supposed to examine Encrid's body in detail when he was running in so quickly?

"The city! The city!"

Encrid threw out whatever words came to mind. Anything at all, as long as it might make the opponent misunderstand.

"Fuck! Monsters!"

The pupils of the commander who had decided to block their retreat wavered. Of course, Encrid could not see that.

There was no need to see it.

He had secured the distance, and since they had torches lit, he had finished confirming the man's face. Most importantly, Encrid already knew who the commander was.

He charged straight in like that.

"Huh? H-Hey, stop!"

Only then did the enemy soldier at the front speak, but his reaction was far, far too late.

Hadn't he been babbling all this time to aim for this brief gap?

He crossed dozens of steps in a single breath, but there was no time to steady his breathing.

RING.

He drew his sword, gripped it with both hands, pulled it to the right, then swung it horizontally from right to left, borrowing the form of an upper horizontal slash. The helmet and armor his opponents wore did not protect their necks.

The two on his left in the direction he had charged from were of similar height.

SLICE!

With one stroke of the blade, he was able to carve sword marks into both their necks.

SPURT.

Blood poured from the severed necks.

"Uh, uwoh! You fucking—!"

The moment the startled enemy soldier reacted, Encrid saw the commander retreating and moved his right hand.

He held his sword in his left hand, moved his right as if striking his waist, then extended it forward.

WHISTLE!

It was a Whistle Dagger. A blade several times more dangerous and sharper than an ordinary throwing knife punched through the commander's leather helmet and lodged inside.

If he survived with more than half the blade buried in his skull.

'He wouldn't be human.'

"Kill him!"

Three or four of the enemy soldiers drew their shortswords with a ring.

Thinking it was fortunate that the tunnel was wide, Encrid unfastened the buckler slung across his back and hurled it.

THUD!

The round shield went flying with a whir and struck the head of a soldier holding a crossbow a few steps away.

"Urk!"

Having bought time by hitting the crossbowman targeting him with the shield, Encrid drew his sword in front of his chest.

After drawing it in, he received the sword strikes of the shortswords swung by the enemies rushing at him by twisting it slightly each time.

CLANG! CLINK! CLANG-CLANG!

It was a technique of knocking swords aside using the flat of the blade. It could not even be called Flowing Sword Technique. All he had done was use his sword like a shield to block.

What came next was the important part.

"Hah!"

He suddenly shouted a battle cry to startle the opponent.

Then, while watching the positions of the enemy soldiers and the directions the crossbows were pointing, he threw himself forward.

Encrid did not merely roll.

As he rolled sideways, he snatched an enemy soldier's ankle, twisted it, and pulled.

CRACK.

The opponent's ankle twisted backward, and as the man lost his balance and collapsed, Encrid rose while coiling his whole body around him as if he had become a snake.

With his left arm, he wrapped the man's neck.

With his right hand, he seized the opponent's right wrist and bent it upward.

Then the shortsword in the enemy's hand fell to the ground.

THUD.

The dirt floor absorbed even the sound of the blade falling.

"Grk."

Killing the enemy soldier was amateur work. He had to keep him alive to endure.

Crossbows were deadly weapons when fired in formation from a distance, but if the distance was closed and one had a proper shield, they could be endured.

And in place of the buckler he had thrown away, Encrid had picked up one meat shield.

'This somehow reminds me of the first today.'

Back then, too, he had picked up shields as he used them.

It was the same this time.

The only difference was that instead of a wooden shield, the material was human.

When he braced himself with his back against the wall, the crossbowmen faltered. The ones holding shortswords did the same.

"I'm alone! Come at me, all of you! Long live Captain Roger! You Aspen dogs! Do you even know how to fire those crossbows you're carrying?"

At the moment a brief silence would have passed between them, Encrid spat nonsense.

Continuously, without even stopping.

"I'm telling you all to come at me! You can't even deal with me when I'm alone? Is that it? Is that how Captain Roger taught you?"

'They should be moving soon.'

He was not spewing nonsense for no reason.

No matter how slow they were to catch on, now was about the right time for them to act.

And his expectation was fulfilled.

SWISH.

Ale Karaz style combat could subdue a person without letting out even a single breath.

Darkness, torches, commotion, nonsense.

All of it would temporarily serve as tools to conceal their bodies.

"That crazy bastard, just shoot him!"

"Hey, ah, don't! I said don't shoot!"

Some excited soldiers and the man whose neck and wrist were being held shouted in turns.

Now was perfect. The longer he dragged it out, the more favorable it became.

Even now, Pin would be back there, striking or choking enemy soldiers' vital points one by one with Ale Karaz style movements.

And Torres would be there, making little *pfft pfft* sounds as he opened holes in enemy throats or skulls.

If they faced them head-on in plain sight, the two of them would be at a disadvantage.

But once the situation changed like this, it was a completely different story. Now, who had the advantage? Who had surrounded whom?

"The day grows bright and darkness withdraws, the sun shines and the moon goes out! Roger! Roger!"

Encrid kept shouting to hide the presence of the two. He even made up a song and sang it in a rough rhythm.

The commander had died with a blade lodged in his skull.

Two others had gone out screaming as well.

What happened afterward was already chaos, and the source of that commotion kept spouting nonsense.

It was only normal for them to feel as if they were losing their minds.

'Fuck, what are we supposed to do?'

One of the enemy soldiers agonized. Wouldn't it be better to just shoot the head of the captured man?

With the commander dead, there was no answer.

Just when he wondered what to do.

TWANG!

The sound of a crossbow string snapping rang out.

THUNK!

The flying bolt lodged in the head of the captured ally.

'Ah.'

In the end, someone had fired.

"Kill him."

It must have been the murmur of the soldier who had shot.

They, too, were a properly trained unit.

There was no disagreement that if they kept being led along by this nonsense, the situation would become the worst possible one.

"Raise the torches! Behind us!"

And at that timing, Pin and Torres were discovered too.

It was not as if they were first-rate assassins.

It was only the natural course of events.

However, the two had taken down six soldiers holding crossbows in the meantime.

'Not bad.'

Hadn't he repeated today again and again?

Among those attempts, there had not been many days when they had managed to take down as many as six.

Next came what followed.

Encrid pushed the meat shield forward.

The corpse, quivering with a quarrel lodged in its head, fell forward. And before it fell, in that instant as its body toppled forward.

Encrid pulled out the Whistle Daggers tucked at his side and waist and threw them.

He straightened his elbow and flicked his fingertips.

Skipping the process of letting his hand hang down, he moved his hand busily.

In the blink of an eye, six Whistle Daggers flew.

WHISTLE!

A sound.

THUD-THUD-THUD!

And another sound.

After he had created six more corpses that way.

All that remained were one soldier holding a crossbow and two soldiers holding shortswords in defensive stances.

Truly, everything had happened in an instant.

And from the enemy soldiers' point of view, it was a nightmare itself.

Then, just as he was about to deal with them without even bothering to face off.

"Forward."

A heavy voice crossed the passage and struck their ears.

Roger, that is, the commander of the long-spear unit, announced his arrival.

He was on the far side of the passage Encrid's group had come through.

THUD, THUD, THUD.

Unified footsteps shook the ground, and the air shook as well.

The remaining soldiers of the archer unit clustered to one side.

Roger and his unit appeared, illuminating the tunnel with more than ten torches.

He was cold.

Even after seeing his allies taken down, he merely swept his gaze around with an indifferent expression.

If the men who were supposed to block the retreat had been taken down, shouldn't he have been at least somewhat flustered?

There were thirty trained elite long-spear soldiers.

Roger's eyes looked at Encrid once, then reached Pin.

"You wildcat bitch, you've got good luck."

"It's not luck, it's skill, asshole."

The two glared at each other as if they would kill one another.

CRACKLE.

The sound of burning torches echoed through the silent tunnel.

Encrid had already learned from the first today that there was a history between those two.

He paid it no mind.

Instead, while Roger and the long-spear unit stopped at a certain distance.

WHOOSH.

He moved again. In one step, he threw himself in front of the three clustered archers.

He stabbed his sword straight in and opened a hole in another enemy's neck.

As he withdrew the sword he had driven in with the thick sound of parting flesh.

There came the twang of a crossbow string. Encrid hastily lowered his head.

A quarrel passed by with a *ZIP*, grazing his hair.

'I almost died.'

That was lucky. He had not expected the man to fire a quarrel point-blank here.

In any case, it had been a while since such luck had come his way, so he made full use of it.

"I can see everything."

As he spoke, he acted as if charging at the soldier who had fired the crossbow, then flicked sideways.

Then he drove his sword down into another enemy soldier's skull.

CRACK!

After retrieving the sword that had split the skull halfway, he pretended to retreat and stared behind the remaining enemy soldier with wide-open eyes.

Thanks to the long-spear unit appearing with torches, the surroundings had grown brighter.

Encrid's expression and gaze were clearly visible to the enemy soldier's eyes.

Seeing Encrid's expression, the enemy soldier judged that someone was attacking him from behind.

After all, more than one or two of them had been taken from behind and killed earlier.

But when the startled enemy soldier looked back, all he saw was darkness.

Darkness the torchlight could not reach, the passage, the tunnel, crumbling dirt.

And the moment he turned his head forward again, he saw light.

It was the light given off by a heavy, massive lump of steel.

STAB.

The moment the enemy soldier cast his gaze backward, Encrid rushed in again, stabbed his neck, and killed him. This, too, happened in an instant.

It was just as Roger could no longer hold back and was about to shout for a charge.

"I deliver Retsha's message!"

Encrid pulled another trick.

At those words, even Roger had no choice but to flinch.

Retsha, the name of the magician at the heart of this matter, had popped out, so how could he not be surprised?

"Run!"

Then Encrid immediately shouted.

"What?"

Torres asked back like that, but his body ran reflexively.

Pin picked up two crossbows without even answering, but in any case, she ran after Encrid.

"Catch them!"

Behind them, Roger's savage shout erupted.

The long-spear unit was not heavy armored infantry, so pursuit would not be impossible.

If they angled their spears and got out of the tunnel, they would be able to run while carrying the long spears as they were.

Encrid ran while thinking of this and that in his head.

Torres and Pin were the same.

The two had many questions about the situation as it unfolded, but they had neither the time nor the breath to ask.

Now was the time to run.