Chapter 107 - In a One-on-One

Encrid knew his intention had worked.

To turn the battlefield into an absolute mess.

Behold, the battlefield that had now become a mess.

It was absolutely flawless, creating a high-quality 'today' even among the many todays he had repeated.

Since it had become the messiest of messes.

'It worked.'

He had induced a chaotic melee, and thanks to it working, a massacre of werewolves was taking place.

Several soldiers died as well, but no matter how recklessly they attacked, the soldiers who gathered in small groups and fought in at least a minimal formation had the upper hand.

'The soldiers will win.'

It was while he was catching his breath on the outskirts of the mess he had induced that Roger charged at him.

He charged without hesitation and thrust his spear, the spearhead looking like a mere dot.

It was a fearsome stab.

Instead of making a large movement, Encrid only slightly twisted his body.

His gambeson was already in tatters, but he trusted the sturdiness of the leather armor he wore.

SWOOSH. SCRAPE.

And so, the opponent's spearhead grazed his flank.

There was no stinging pain. That meant the armor had held up.

Encrid immediately clamped the spear shaft tightly against his flank.

"Hmph!"

Roger applied force as he looked at Encrid, who had trapped his short spear under his flank.

He intended to pull the spear back in one breath and tear through the opponent's arm and flank.

'You caught the spearhead with your flank? I'll tear you to shreds.'

FWEEEEE!

The moment he applied that force.

An eerie sensation chilled his forehead along with a bizarre sound, causing him to throw his head back. No, simply throwing his head back wasn't enough; he also bent his waist backward.

It was an astonishing display of reflexes and quickness.

'Son of a bitch.'

*SWISH*, a blade grazed the hair on his head and the forehead of his helmet.

It was a throwing knife. The flying blade cleaved through the darkness and drew a long line.

Of course, he couldn't actually see it.

He had merely sensed it by instinct.

It was chilling. That chill quickly turned into anger.

Just as Roger used his fiery rage as fuel to right his body again.

For some reason, he felt the weight of the spear in his hands disappear.

"It's time for you to reunite with your hair."

The moment he heard the voice, he also saw a shadow blocking the space above his head.

It was Encrid. He had rushed in at some point and was now dropping from above.

'This bastard.'

'Why is he so agile?'

It was a swiftness that didn't match his build.

A blade plunging down from above.

That was the last afterimage left in Roger's eyes.

CRUNCH!

His crown was split open, and the helmet that covered his head and hid his lack of hair was split as well.

*SPLAT*, brain matter mixed with blood flowed out from his busted head.

THUD.

Landing on the ground, Encrid checked his own body.

Grabbing the spear and launching a Whistle Dagger at the opponent's forehead, then leaping forward to deliver a vertical slash—it was the exact movement and result he had envisioned.

'Not bad.'

There were no major injuries. Although his flank throbbed thanks to clamping the spear earlier.

He felt around his ribs with his fingers.

'Nothing's broken.'

Then it was fine. He'd probably just get a bruise.

"Fuuuuck! Captain!"

An enemy soldier's cry could be heard.

Some of the enemy soldiers witnessed Roger's death, but what could they do about it?

Just because their eyes were bloodshot didn't mean they could abandon the lycanthropes they were fighting and charge at him.

The werewolves targeting them were still flashing their fangs viciously.

Anyway, with this single sword strike, the direction of the battle became strange.

Could it be said that the spearmen's morale dipped slightly with Roger's death?

It was certain that they still held the upper hand, but.

There were some who ended up being killed by werewolves in the intervals.

It was the same right now.

Because a soldier, whose eyes had turned red with excitement upon seeing the death of their hairless commander, got his head smashed by a one-eyed lycanthrope that leaped up after hiding its body.

SMASH!

The one-eyed beast used its fist, not its claws.

It wasn't using its claws and teeth as weapons according to instinct, but was throwing punches.

Right, you have to be at least that capable to be considered a leader running a Colony.

It wasn't as if just anyone could become the leader of a monster swarm.

That didn't mean it only used its fists. It also faithfully utilized the weapons attached to its body.

The one-eyed beast continuously swung its claws at a few soldiers—*CLANG CLANG CLANG*—deflecting their spearheads and breaking a couple of spear shafts.

After killing two men in that manner, it once again hid its body behind its swarm.

The shadows of the trees, behind the enemy soldiers, the rear where the other Lycan bastards were rampaging.

It hid however it could and aimed for a sneak attack.

It had been using a similar tactic from earlier.

Because it continuously dug into vulnerabilities by hiding in the darkness and launching surprise attacks.

Encrid gave up on finding the one hiding among its pack and quietly caught his breath.

In the meantime, a long spearman charged at him.

"For vengeance!"

What a ridiculous thing to say.

Your Captain challenged me to a one-on-one and died, where do you think you're going alone.

If he fought them one-on-one from the start, they were opponents he could defeat.

Wasn't that why he created this mess?

Encrid deflected the incoming spear shaft with the flat of his blade, pushed off the ground with the soles of his feet, and thrust his sword forward along the spear shaft.

SCRRRRT.

The blade closed in, peeling off the outer layer of the spear shaft, and reached the spearman's neck.

SQUELCH.

The well-honed blade sliced the enemy's neck.

Blood erupted like a fountain from the half-severed neck.

Following the motion that cut the neck, Encrid used centrifugal force to sharply spin his body and held his sword upright in front of his eyes.

'I was wondering when you'd come.'

Behind Encrid.

A Lycan bastard lowering its posture near Roger's corpse came into view.

It was the leader of the werewolf pack that had stealthily taken his rear.

It was the guy that had circled behind him before he knew it.

The one-eyed lycanthrope.

The beast's yellow eye gleamed as it faced Encrid.

"You wanna come first? Or should I go?"

The werewolf leader was certainly a more difficult opponent than Roger.

However.

Over the course of seventy-eight todays, Encrid had never once spent a single today idly.

Just because he had relaxed his shoulders didn't mean he hadn't struggled desperately.

Therefore.

"Let's make this quick."

He didn't think killing this bastard would be that hard of a task either.

In the split second when its claws tore through the air and split the gaps, connecting dot to dot, *CLANG CLANG CLANG*, blade and claws clashed.

After a few exchanges of offense and defense, Encrid's sword severed the one-eyed werewolf's arm.

'Weapon superiority.'

He had never felt it as intensely as this time.

The sword he had invested Kronas to forge was shining brightly.

He smashed and broke the beast's claws every time they were swung.

In that opening, he sliced its arm and seized the winning momentum.

The one-eyed Lycan swung its claws upward from below with a *SWOOSH*, vertically cleaving the space where Encrid had just been.

Encrid avoided it by stepping his left foot to the side and then sharply spun his body.

He loaded his weight onto the central axis from his crown down to between his legs.

Adding muscular strength to the centrifugal force riding up from the tips of his toes to his knees and waist, he unleashed a powerful strike of the Heavy Sword Technique.

The spinning, extending sword cleaved the moonlight and simultaneously cleaved the werewolf's neck.

SWISH.

A strike that left no feeling of resistance in his hands.

The sword precisely struck the point of impact and severed the neck.

SLICE.

The sound of the sword cleaving the air.

The sight of the werewolf's head flying off.

It all happened in an instant.

Silence did not descend.

Because there were very few who even witnessed this fight.

If the long spear unit had maintained their formation and charged in to fight him.

The one to die would have been Encrid.

It would have been similar if the werewolf pack had ambushed him.

But if it was a one-on-one in a chaotic melee.

'I don't think I'll lose.'

That was why he had created this situation.

Moreover, he had experienced the commander's and the one-eyed Lycan bastard's habits and fighting styles time and time again.

Of course, knowing their habits was only meaningful if he had the skills to back it up.

Because he extended his sword while spinning a half-turn, an illusion arose as if the moonlight were swirling around Encrid.

Of course, it was just an illusion.

Encrid stealthily stepped back.

It was now time to catch his breath.

Moreover, 'today' was not over yet.

The wall still remained.

* * *

'Uh, isn't that a bit weird?'

'Was he always like that?'

They ran toward him thinking he was in a crisis, but since they couldn't just cut across the middle of the battlefield, they were taking a wide detour around the side.

Torres saw Encrid swing his sword to cut down Roger, as well as slice off the one-eyed Lycan bastard's neck.

And so, a thought occurred to him.

'He's changed?'

They had sparred dozens of times on the way here.

The Encrid from back then and the current Encrid were different.

'What changed?'

'Did his skills improve by leaps and bounds? I don't think it's that.'

'His sword strikes seem a bit colder, maybe?'

He also seemed more at ease.

"Was he always that, um, good at fighting?"

Pin asked from his side.

It was a rare level of skill. Anyone would think the same the moment they saw it.

"He fights incredibly well."

Pin, who had been marveling, suddenly shone her eyes fiercely, extended her left foot out long to stomp the ground, and smoothly kicked up a stone with her other foot.

Pin snatched the stone that shot upward after hitting the top of her foot, and violently threw it sideways as she ran.

*WHACK*, the flying stone struck the back of an enemy soldier's head.

The moment the guy who got hit in the head with a loud *CRACK* bowed his head, a werewolf gouged his back with its claws.

THUD!

A hole wasn't blown through his back in one hit. The armor was remarkably sturdy.

However, as the price for allowing an opening and getting hit in the back, the enemy soldier had to roll to the side to evade, and thanks to that, their formation crumbled.

Two Lycans dug in through the gaps between the men who had been fighting in formation.

If the formation collapsed, the Lycans were at an absolute advantage.

Torres cast a glance in that direction before turning his eyes away.

Pin was a weird woman for throwing stones amidst all this, but.

Right now, Torres found Encrid entirely too weird. It was awkward. A strange feeling sharply poked his chest.

If he had to put it into words, there was nothing to say.

He was just weird.

Incredibly, extremely, immensely.

'Why?'

Pondering over it, everything was weird, but to point out just a few things.

'First of all, his skill.'

Right now, Torres didn't want to fight the moonlight-drunk Lycan bastards in front of him.

He hated the idea of doing it alone. He might be able to win, but he could also die.

What if he tried to stab its neck with a dagger and even one of its claws snagged him in the wrong place?

'Ugh.'

Goosebumps rose all over his body. It was a pointless thought experiment.

Then what about Encrid?

'Is his heart made of stone?'

Wasn't his audacity beyond the level of being merely bold?

Not only was he pulling off evasive stunts right between the enemy forces—a pack of thoroughly provoked enemy soldiers—and the werewolves.

But he even killed the enemy commander with a single strike.

'He effortlessly dealt with that one-eyed Lycan too.'

He struck its claws a few times with his sword, and then just cleanly sliced its neck.

That level of skill was enough to make his lower belly tingle with a slight, fluttering ache.

The sword extending out as it spun even looked like it whipped around like some sort of whip.

'What kind of freak is he?'

'Ah.'

Only then did Torres recognize the difference between the Encrid he had sparred with and the current Encrid.

'His proficiency is different. His proficiency.'

He definitely thought there were awkward and clumsy aspects to him before.

That was why he had been exploiting his openings and giving him advice, telling him that the more he fought, the better he could plug those gaps.

Now, it looked like he had reached the stage of utter mastery.

At least, the spinning slash just now looked that way.

'In just a few days?'

'Was he a genius?'

But no, he knew because he had hung out with him.

Encrid's physical talent was merely average.

To be honest, he was on the duller side, to the point where it would be embarrassing to compare him to anyone.

'Wow. What the hell is this.'

It was at a level where every time he just swung his sword, one beast or one man died.

Even after killing the commander and the one-eyed beast, a werewolf or an enemy soldier sporadically charged at Encrid.

He would take a step and honestly strike downward with his sword, smashing their heads open.

A resolute horizontal slash didn't cut the armor but rather struck heavily like a blunt smash, completely destroying ribs and internal organs.

Just because the blade didn't physically dig in didn't mean the impact went anywhere.

You could say it was a horizontal slash that clearly demonstrated what the Heavy Sword Technique was all about.

'Aren't those guys even scared?'

If Encrid were the enemy, he thought it would be terrifying to fight him.

Of course, Torres wasn't the only one who thought so.

The commander and the leader.

After the dead piled up with three or four more guys on top of them.

Finally, no one else dared to charge at Encrid.

Even the Lycan bastards who had lost their minds to the full moon began to treat Encrid as if he didn't even exist.

Passing right by him even when they saw him.

Making wide detours around him.

'Even I would do the same.'

Once it became like that, only the fight between the enemy soldiers and the Lycans remained.

That battle was also nearing its end.

Alone, nobly bathed only in moonlight, Encrid was the only one left standing free.

And it didn't even look particularly awkward. With a familiar attitude, Encrid caught his breath under the moonlight and calmly watched the rest of the fight.

The moment he saw that, goosebumps erupted all over Torres's entire body.

It was surprising enough to see both werewolves and enemy soldiers avoiding a single mere human, but.

It was also thanks to the fact that another question had sprung to mind.

A sense of incongruity continued to torment Torres.

'Let's leave his skill aside for a moment.'

Then, what about this situation?

There's more than just one or two weird things.

From the fact that the Lycan bastards crossed paths with the Gray Hound Squad.

To how he kept asking if there was something behind us at the Smuggler's Hole.

'How does he know the commander's name?'

That really makes absolutely no sense.

You can't just chalk it up to coincidence.

Once a doubt started forming, it would inevitably bite the tail of the next.

That was exactly what was happening to Torres right now.

As he kept muttering that it was weird while they ran along the detour.

"What keeps doing what?"

Pin asked from beside him. As she ran, Pin's eyes scanned their surroundings.

She was reading the direction of the battlefield.

Regardless of who survived between the two sides, wouldn't they have to sweep away the rest?

The human side had the advantage at first, but.

Looking at it now, it seemed like the Lycan bastards might win.

The Lycans had long since started avoiding the nightmare that was Encrid.

The human side did not.

They had targeted Encrid a few more times. Thanks to that, their numbers had dwindled even further.

All of this? It was a situation created entirely by one person. Encrid, the Platoon Commander of some Independent Platoon, a man with a pretty body and a pretty face.

Well, was he some kind of tactical genius or something?

Pin thought so.

"Just everything is weird."

Torres, running beside her, kept spouting nonsense.

The two seemed quite close, yet it felt like he knew nothing, didn't understand this, didn't understand that.

Well, he was staring at Encrid with that kind of gaze.

"Snap out of it, we need to deal with the leftovers."

Saying so, Pin made up her mind and threw the axe from her waist.

It was right after she locked eyes with an enemy soldier.

SWOOSH!

The handaxe that left her hand spun and lodged into the enemy soldier's chest with a *THUNK*.

The enemy soldier hit by the axe took a step back, then slumped and collapsed.

"Hurts, doesn't it, you punk."

Pin said as she kept running.

Torres, running beside her, just kept muttering that it was weird.

Thus, the two joined up with Encrid.

It took some time since they had to take a detour.

Regardless, they had kept his word to stay within visible range and then regroup.

"Let me ask you something."

And Torres had to ask. What this situation was, and how it came to be.

Leaving aside the fact that his skills had strangely transformed.

Starting with the most urgent matter.

"How do you know the commander's name?"

There was no way there could be a plausible excuse for this.

Encrid was nonchalant. *Why does that matter*, basically.

"By chance."

"Chance?"

What were the odds of knowing an enemy commander's name purely by chance?

"Krais once told me that there was a weird guy among the enemy forces."

It was a lie.

But could he verify it? No. And it sounded plausible.

"Ah."

"He mocked him, saying he was famous for going around hiding his head."

He wasn't a city-level powerhouse, but he was an enemy. On top of that, his behavior was quite peculiar.

He could have heard rumors through various channels.

Even in Aspen, some guys would know the name of a Captain of the Border Guard.

If that was the case, it was possible. It was definitely possible.

"Then this situation was intentional, right?"

"Of course it's a coincidence. Who could predict that a werewolf pack would come here?"

His gaze practically said, *Why are you asking something so obvious? *

That annoyed Torres immensely, but.

"Is that important? A plan just suddenly came to me."

Pin leaned in to listen, wondering if Encrid was some kind of natural-born tactical genius.

Torres felt awkward again sensing a strange ease in Encrid's tone, but.

Both kept their ears open.

They had to at least hear him out.

"Let's climb the wall. Right now, I bet no one would expect there to be people scaling the wall."

The Smuggler's Hole was clearly a trap laid by the enemy.

They had narrowly escaped from there.

What if they secretly climbed the wall before the enemy soldiers returned to the city?

"That's brilliant."

Pin agreed first. It was plausible. It made perfect sense.

The plan was forged through a repeated today.

It would be weirder if it was flawed.

"Tsk."

Torres clicked his tongue, but he also had to agree.

After all, their operation was still ongoing.

It did seem like what Encrid just said would serve as an impeccably sharp dagger.

And a dagger that would stab the enemy before they even realized they were being stabbed at that.

"Let's go."

And so, even before the fight between the werewolves and the enemy soldiers had ended.

The three made their move.

"Shit, they're running!"

A soldier who was stabbing his spear into a Lycan's head shouted.

But that didn't mean they could chase them.

The number of remaining soldiers was merely twelve.

They could form up and fight, but.

To be honest, they didn't want to fight the guy who had split Captain Roger open.

"Dammit."

So all they could do was helplessly curse.