Chapter 115 - Aren't You Guys Going to Sleep?

A high-speed sword spar with Rem.

With Ragna, it was a sparring match to counter sword styles where they only lightly clashed against each other.

With Audin, he exchanged bare-handed strikes and joint locks.

Once the spar came to an end like that.

"Now you're taking your first steps."

Rem said.

First steps—while it might seem like a mocking remark...

He knew that wasn't the case in reality.

A faint smile surfaced on Rem's face as he spoke.

To Encrid, it looked like an expression of satisfaction.

"You have less wasted movement."

Ragna chimed in as well.

This too was a bit hard to take as a compliment, but...

While his words were ordinary, an unprecedented fervor was visible in Ragna's eyes.

He was a guy who walked around with his eyes only half-open for almost everything.

That gaze only came out because he was beyond satisfied with his spar against Encrid just now.

A cold heat radiated from Ragna's eyes.

"You continued your sensory training."

Jaxon offered a calm compliment.

"You have taken a step closer to God."

Audin offered a peculiar remark.

Having chewed on it a few times, the implication felt terribly off, so as he stared blankly at Audin, Rem spoke up before Encrid could.

"Isn't that on the level of praying for him to drop dead?"

"No. Brother, it is a blessing."

In what way was that a blessing?

Anyway, the sparring ended.

"That's the troublemaker Squad Leader?"

"He's the lunatic Platoon Commander now. You bastard."

"What the hell is he?"

"So that's the guy, huh."

"They said he was a lunatic crazy for training."

The words of the onlookers drifted over. Those who had remained consistently silent until now, those who had kept their mouths shut in surprise.

Encrid's shoulders heaved as he panted.

His wrist throbbed.

And strength drained from his fatigue-laden limbs.

Even so, it wasn't exactly a bad feeling.

However.

'It's a shame.'

Because his right wrist was injured, everyone had gone easy on him. That was what he found deeply regrettable.

Nevertheless, he had learned something.

His past experiences.

That is, the things he encountered upon crossing the wall of Crossguard.

Even the Frog he fought after returning.

It felt as though he had poured out the entirety of all those experiences.

Along with the things he newly discovered today on top of that.

He wanted to chew it all over.

In other words, he wanted to fight more.

"Hold it in. Your wrist will be completely ruined if you do any more."

The quick-witted Rem said. He knew. That resting was also important.

Wasn't that something he had already learned and realized long ago?

Encrid caught his breath and gave a shrug.

The onlookers also turned around,

and a few acknowledged Encrid with a greeting.

"You're here?"

It was Platoon Commander Vengeance. They were now of equal rank.

"Yeah."

Encrid was originally a couple of years older anyway, so informal speech naturally slipped out.

"That's good."

Why did that guy look like he was feeling shy?

Other than him, after exchanging greetings with his eyes and hands with a few others like Bell and the sewing master, he entered the barracks.

"Alright then, try spinning us a tale. What have you been up to?"

Rem blurted out.

He was curious. Just what the hell did he have to do for that dull human, who knew nothing but hard work, to improve his skills this much?

Rem saying he took his first steps was praise directed at a human who had overcome a certain wall.

Although he had gone easy on him during their clash because of the wrist, he felt a clear change.

He continuously showed slashes that seemed to bend like a whip.

Whether or not he had certainty in his body, his weapon, his arms, his hands, and everything he had built up so far.

That was the difference between the Encrid from before he went on recon to Crossguard and the Encrid now.

Certainty, the act of not hesitating.

Namely, an unhesitating certainty.

Some might call this seasoned experience.

And some might say this was his techniques becoming second nature.

It felt as though everything he had built up over that time had been refined.

It seemed like hearing his story would be quite the treat.

Just what kind of entertaining things he was doing in places where he wasn't around.

Ragna sat down in front as if he was curious too, and Jaxon and Audin took their seats as well.

Andrew, Mac, and Henri leaned in to listen.

"I feel like I've become a storyteller or something."

Encrid muttered. These were his platoon members, sitting huddled together in front of him.

A story, what was so hard about that?

Encrid plainly recited what had happened.

The story of falling into a trap, spearmen in the front, archers in the back, and the sharp eyes of Ranger Pin.

The lycanthropes and the magician waiting on the city wall.

Even fighting the Frog.

He spoke honestly, leaving out the fact that he had repeated today, and added here and there that he had just been lucky.

It was a succession of events that didn't match his nonchalant tone.

"Are you cursed or something where your skills improve whenever you almost drop dead?"

Rem asked with a chuckle.

Because to him, it certainly looked that way.

Since his skills always seemed to drastically improve every time he experienced a life-threatening crisis.

Was the Platoon Commander actually a genius?

No, he definitely wasn't. Rem knew because he had taught him personally.

Then, had something been stimulated by the crisis of death?

Regardless, it was incredibly fascinating how his skills improved whenever he was on the brink of death, but Rem didn't care.

Why did that matter?

"Anyway, that was entertaining."

The others listening beside him also roughly nodded, but Andrew asked with eyes that looked like his soul had been threshed out of him.

"You made it back alive from a place like that?"

Could you just call the story they had heard so far mere luck?

The sparring from earlier was the same.

Before, he thought he might at least stand a chance against him.

When did the skill gap widen this much? Had he neglected his training all this time?

'No, definitely not.'

Hanging around the bunch of lunatics, every single day had been a continuous string of suffering for him too. His skills had grown proportionally to that.

Mac had said it too.

"It's so annoying it makes me sick, but you gotta admit what's true. Rolling around with that bastard Rem improves your skills."

So he had also done his best. He immersed himself in training like never before. Yet, a gap had still formed.

"I got lucky."

Encrid opened his mouth. It was the same answer as always. Andrew had nothing more to say.

Encrid said they should sleep now as he checked the condition of his wrist.

Somehow, it felt worse than when he had fought the Frog.

"Because of your wrist injury, you'll have to stand by at the barracks tomorrow."

"It's not severe enough to go to the Medical Barracks, but yes, combat would be overdoing it."

"Goes without saying."

"I want to rest too."

Starting with Jaxon, it was Krais, Rem, and Ragna who spoke.

It was exactly what Encrid had expected. Since his wrist condition had worsened, they were bound to say he needed to rest.

If the higher-ups asked why he had sparred with a wrist like that.

"That's our platoon's tradition, didn't ya know?"

Rem would probably give some bullshit answer like that.

Regardless, resting was also important. It was a fact that his wrist had gone bad after fighting the Frog.

He could swing his sword a few more times, but if he pushed it, it would definitely be ruined.

"Have you given up the shield?"

Ragna asked as he headed to his spot. Encrid nodded his head.

"Because this is more comfortable."

Saying so, Encrid took out the guard sword and showed it to him.

Its blade was slightly chipped, and there was a gouge in the middle of the blade, but...

It was still fairly usable.

"I suppose everyone has things they just can't get used to."

Ragna nodded.

It was the night of his return. So it was time to sleep, and once everyone lay down on their beds, Rem spoke.

"Let's not get pushed around by the likes of a Frog."

Wasn't it incredibly awkward to attach "the likes of" to a Frog?

"That is true. You will need to train more. There is much to do."

Ragna added as well.

Jaxon silently sent a cool gaze.

"Brother Platoon Leader, everything is possible through training."

Audin, possessing the tongue of a devil, added his words too.

"If we clash again, I'll win."

As he answered with bravado, everyone chuckled.

"Well, I like the confidence."

Rem spoke as their representative, and as they were about to welcome the darkness and try to sleep again.

"Let's do this properly once your wrist heals."

"I have a lot to teach you once it's fully healed. We'll need to fix your minor bad habits too."

"There is no end to training, Brother."

"There are indeed more things for you to do."

From Rem to Jaxon, they opened their mouths again.

Learning new things. Moving forward. Endlessly walking and walking again.

It was exactly what Encrid had yearned for.

Though he had to focus entirely on recovery right now.

His wrist felt terribly stiff.

'Feels like they're trying to keep me out of the battlefield.'

It was a peculiar feeling.

Wasn't the lineup of the people worrying about him quite unusual?

Anyway, in exchange for his absence, would Rem and the others fight a little harder tomorrow morning?

He couldn't know.

Because Encrid still didn't know exactly why they followed him so closely.

He could only guess and assume.

He didn't particularly want to drag it into the realm of certainty either.

Because he thought it was better as it was now, rather than poking it for no reason and causing trouble.

If necessary, they would tell him themselves.

He just needed to treat them exactly as he had up until now.

"Let's do that."

He replied once more and tried to actually go to sleep this time. But then.

"Anyway, the likes of a Frog..."

Rem said as he half-raised his body and swung the edge of his hand through the air.

"You block like this and strike like this. Faster than the bastard. Just wait until your wrist heals. I'll carve it right down to your bones. How to kill a frog."

"Aside from the Heavy Sword Technique, there is a process of learning the other basic forms and making them second nature."

"You must maintain the isolation technique using everything but your right hand, Brother."

"... How to never let your guard down."

None of the platoon members would give their mouths a rest.

"Aren't you guys going to sleep?"

If he just left them be, it felt like they would keep talking all night.

What was this?

Were they acting like this because they were so glad to see him after a long time?

Or was it because they hadn't had anyone to torment?

For that to be the case, Andrew's eye was way too blackened.

"I'm going to sleep. I was feeling sleepy anyway."

Rem's words were the last. Everyone went to sleep, and,

MEOW—

Esther, who had been hiding her presence in a corner, crept into Encrid's embrace.

Laying there, Encrid reflected on his fight with the Frog and today's sparring match. Today's spar was incomplete.

Even so, it made his blood boil.

In a way, it might have just been a process of having everything he had done thus far validated.

So why did it feel like a new path forward was opening up?

His mental review, random thoughts, and even the warmth Esther provided on his chest.

Sleep naturally poured over him. Like that, Encrid fell asleep.

A moment later.

"You said my talent would work anywhere."

Andrew whispered quietly, mixing in a sigh.

Mac, listening beside him, didn't know what to say.

Clearly, by his own standards, Andrew was a brilliant talent.

To the point where his rapidly improving skills were visibly apparent.

However, this platoon...

'This is, um, well.'

Where would one find humans like these easily?

He didn't think there were any. This was a first for Mac. Just how did such ridiculously good fighters end up gathered together like this?

Not to mention Platoon Commander Encrid.

His skills had improved unrecognizably. He had been at a considerable level even before, which was why he had told Andrew not to pick a fight with him.

Didn't he give off the feeling that he had crossed some sort of line now?

Since Mac found himself at a loss for words.

"Instead of comparing yourself to others, you should spend that time swinging your sword one more time."

He spoke based on the lunatic platoon mentality. At those words, Andrew let out a "Haa—" in lament.

* * *

Morning arrived, and Encrid opened his eyes.

'Did I sleep in?'

MEOW.

He saw Esther rubbing her cheeks against his chest.

He reflexively raised his right hand to stroke her head before switching hands.

Because of the splint attached to it, it was a hand he absolutely couldn't use.

He stroked Esther's fur with his left fingertips.

Esther let out a pleasant purr.

She had slept in too.

Sunlight filtered through the barracks, and as Encrid half-raised his body, Krais entered through the entrance.

"Are you awake?"

"I slept in."

"It's only natural you'd be tired. Would a day or two of rest even relieve your fatigue? After going through all that trouble?"

He had heard everything that happened to Encrid last night. Krais knew his Platoon Commander's stamina was monstrous, but if he didn't feel fatigue after such a grueling march, then he wouldn't be human.

"Let's have a meal first."

He got up, roughly wiped the sleep from his eyes, and had a quick meal. For breakfast, well-cooked potatoes and thinly sliced, salted, and grilled bacon came out.

"The quality of the meal is pretty good?"

"They're taking care of us in various ways. Ah, and the rest of the squad members went to the frontlines first."

Krais said, pointing upward.

Did this mean they had high expectations for this platoon?

Was that why they were given this special meal?

Rem and the others made the first move? Was that good news, or bad news?

It seemed they had moved a little diligently to let him rest using his wrist as an excuse, but...

Would his platoon members really move according to the commander's intentions?

He didn't know about that.

It hadn't even worked when he coaxed them personally.

They might fight hard just for today, though.

If it was the price to let him rest, they might just do so.

Had Rem originally said he'd kill three people? For today at least, he might kill around five.

It was worth expecting exactly that much, but would they actually fight the battle the commander wanted?

That was unknown.

He also had no idea how much his platoon members would be needed in the realm of strategy and tactics.

His thoughts ended there.

He had never learned large-scale tactical operations in the first place anyway.

The commander would take care of their own job.

Marcus the Warmonger.

He would likely live up to his name.

After finishing his meal, Encrid trained using the isolation technique only enough so as not to strain his right wrist, and then began his mental review.

The process of reflecting on and chewing over what he had learned, a continuation of what he usually did every day.

'Did I make any mistakes?'

If he had, then where? So as not to repeat the same mistakes next time.

Because the experiences gained from life-or-death fights were all valuable assets.

The words told to him by an instructor he met in a small fishing village he stopped by during his past wanderings.

Those words still remained with Encrid.

As he mentally reviewed his fights alone like that, his body started to itch.

He stood up because he simply couldn't sit still, but he wasn't in any condition to properly grip a sword due to the splint and bandages on his right wrist.

Standing with his eyes half-closed, Encrid painted a picture in his head.

Audin, Ragna, Rem.

Starting yesterday's sparring matches in reverse order, going through the Frog, the night he faced the magician, the moment he was surrounded by lycanthropes, and the moments he clashed with and escaped the elite soldiers.

'Luck.'

Luck had also been on his side. Of course, since it was luck drawn out by repeating today, it could also be called calculated luck.

He continuously thought and moved his body. As he did, his blood naturally boiled.

He absolutely couldn't stand it without swinging his sword.

"A lunatic crazy for training."

Didn't they say someone called him that?

'It seems to fit shockingly well, too.'

At the end of his wandering thoughts, unable to endure it any longer, he drew his sword.

SHING.

Since his right hand was ruined, he used his left hand instead.

'I originally used the sword with one hand anyway.'

It seemed like he could manage something with just his left hand, but what if he grew his brute strength even more?

Reflecting repeatedly, he gripped his sword with his left hand and swung it down.

SWISH.

It was a clumsy sword strike.

Even he felt it was so.

It was too different compared to when he did it with his right hand.

'It feels like I'm starting over from scratch, but...'

It was several times better than staying still. Right now, he needed an outlet for this seething motivation, urge, and desire.

"He's a completely crazy bastard, pulling that shit with his left hand just because his right hand is injured."

Vengeance, who had stayed behind for rear defense, opened his mouth as he watched Encrid from one side.

Of course, Encrid didn't even pretend to listen. No, he couldn't hear him.

Perfect immersion.

Retracing the path his right hand had taken with his left, Encrid was observing the things he had missed.