Chapter 12 - Two Days

Frog reflected on the scene etched in his eyes.

'I thought he'd win.'

He was a guy he had taught himself, and one with quite a bit of talent.

He hadn't liked his personality at all, but that wasn't his business.

A soldier who had focused heavily on learning to stab.

A guy whose talent was quite useful.

He wasn't someone who should have died on such a trivial battlefield.

If left alone, his skills would have reached at least the level of a Company Commander.

Frog thought about the reason the soldier died.

'Because his experience was shallow?'

No, how many soldiers had he raised this way so far?

He wasn't a guy who would die from just this.

'Because his opponent was formidable?'

Therefore, he was just unlucky. He was forsaken by the goddess of luck.

Frog laughed, making a *gurgling* sound.

'Since luck is also a skill.'

As he entered the allied camp, his adjutant approached him.

"I've been looking for you for a while. General."

"Oh, really?"

"Did you go to the enemy territory?"

"I just went out for a little fun."

"You look to be in a good mood."

"I saw a guy die after being stabbed 'there'."

To a Frog, 'heart' is a forbidden word.

They are appalled just seeing someone die from being stabbed there.

And yet, a Frog laughing while talking about it.

It was a situation where the adjutant should have suspected that there were bugs in the General's head.

However, the adjutant did not doubt him.

An experienced Frog would sometimes speak the word 'heart'.

And the Frog General in front of him was a veteran soldier.

To the point where he could spit out the word 'heart' if he put his mind to it.

So, he could also laugh at seeing someone die with their heart pierced.

To be exact, when he saw something more interesting than a pierced heart, this Frog could laugh.

"You must have seen something amusing."

"Well, just a guy who strangely piques my interest."

He probably wasn't an ally. If he was, he would have brought him back already.

Frog spoke blandly as he trudged along.

A Frog's sole leather is thick. They didn't even need boots.

In fact, because it was too slippery, some Frogs would sometimes plant nails in their soles.

However, the Frog General was the type to disapprove of Frogs who planted nails and such in their soles.

If accompanied by excellent senses and proper training.

Slippery soles could also become a weapon.

'He copied the stab perfectly.'

It wasn't in the realm of talent. A Frog's eyes could grasp the level of a technique mastered by an opponent.

The Frog General had seen the enemy soldier stab. Thanks to that, he could tell.

'A technique forged and tempered countless times.'

It was closer to a technique learned by risking his life rather than something he was simply taught.

A realm of relentless effort rather than talent.

'Because his talent was shallow.'

If luck overlapped tens, hundreds of times, it wouldn't be impossible.

If he survived seeing the stab countless times right in front of him, such movements would be possible.

Everything else was a mess, but that single stab was worth watching.

But does this make sense?

'With that kind of skill?'

Surviving on the battlefield time after time?

Learning by risking his life proved that he had survived by a hair's breadth just as many times.

It was clearly a movement that could only be shown by repeatedly clashing against and being broken by an opponent stronger than himself.

Does this make sense?

It doesn't.

That's why it's interesting.

'It would be nice to see him again next time, but.'

The Frog General thought that wouldn't happen.

The goddess of luck is unfair. She is heavily biased.

She might funnel all her luck to a single person.

But even that luck has its limits.

'He must have used up his entire life's worth of luck.'

There would be no reason to see him again.

That didn't mean he would die today.

He got excited and kicked him, but the guy somehow managed to block it.

Furthermore, seeing the two guys who came to protect him at the end, it didn't seem like he would die on the battlefield today.

Still, he didn't think it would last long.

If he recklessly charged at an opponent superior to himself, his skills would improve even with meager talent.

But he would need hundreds of lives to do so.

"General."

"Let's eat."

Frog stopped his thoughts there and folded his interest in that matter.

Now was the time to focus on other things.

In other words, eating a meal.

And formulating a strategy.

At the General's words, the blond adjutant nodded.

"Let's go. I will prepare your meal."

* * *

He saw the Boatswain.

Encrid realized that the place he was sitting was on a rowboat.

'A dream?'

I feel like this happened once before?

It was quite an old memory. When was it?

'When I first woke up again.'

The Boatswain without a mouth.

A voice tinged with curiosity.

He awakened his faint memories.

'Back then.'

He had thought it was just a nonsense dream. Why would a Boatswain he met in a dream be important?

"You somehow managed to survive the day?"

The Boatswain spoke.

Just like back then, Encrid couldn't say a single word.

It seemed that simply listening was all he was permitted to do here.

"Though you have eyes, you cannot see; though you have a mouth, you cannot speak; though you have ears, you cannot properly hear."

The Boatswain spoke as if singing. It was actually spoken with a mix of melody and rhythm.

He couldn't even blink.

Including his five senses, he couldn't move anything as he pleased.

It was stifling and frustrating.

'What can I do right now?'

If it was a dream, shouldn't a Spell just shoot out of his hands or something?

It was a dream, yet not a dream.

Realizing that, Encrid knew that the only thing he could do was listen.

"Can you keep enduring it? Will you be able to? Even when they will constantly block your path?"

He didn't know what he was talking about.

Didn't he just say that even though he had ears, he couldn't properly hear?

"You still cannot even hear my name."

He looked at the Boatswain. A blurry image formed over the black veil.

It seemed as if water droplets formed like morning dew were blocking his vision.

It was that blurry.

Everything was black. At first, he thought he only lacked a mouth, but there was nothing there at all.

"What you can hear right now is due to my whim, and my goodwill."

He spoke and giggled. It wasn't that he knew because he saw him smiling.

It felt as if the other entity was conveying the fact that he was laughing.

'So what am I supposed to do about it.'

"Child, nothing has ended, and you cannot escape. The 'wall' blocking your path will always be there. That will be your destiny."

The word 'wall' sounded strange.

He actually said something else, but it sounded like 'wall'.

What on earth was this.

"Will you be able to survive?"

He didn't know what kind of bullshit this was, but.

"You state the obvious."

Huh? Words are coming out?

There was no need to question it.

The entity seemed even more surprised.

"You..."

The Boatswain whispered something, but his consciousness quickly faded.

SPLASH!

The rowboat vanished. Encrid fell deep into the water.

Above the water, the black mass formed beyond the dew conveyed its words, no, its will.

"You won't remember this. However."

CHUCKLE.

The Boatswain smiled and continued.

"You really are a funny kid."

That was the end of it.

He lost consciousness as he sank deep into the water. Encrid fell into a deep abyss just like that.

* * *

"... Who is the hero of this battlefield?"

"Cyprus!"

"Who is the master of this battlefield?"

"Cyprus!"

"Who runs toward tomorrow?"

"Cyprus!"

"Who passes judgment!"

It was the sound of singing. A song with a cheerful melody, a thick voice, and a perfect rhythm.

'A marching song?'

No, it wasn't a marching song.

He had learned a few marching songs since joining this unit, but nothing like this.

What he learned here was more like rhythmic shouts than marching songs.

"We will win!"

"With the blessing of the unsetting sun!"

"Imbued with the power of the Lord God!"

Well, they were that kind of sort. They were more like shrieks and shouts belted out with no melody whatsoever.

But right now, there was a melody and a lively rhythm.

It was also a familiar song.

'The Wandering Minstrel's song.'

Not all Wandering Minstrels are the same kind.

Among them are those who serve in the military, standing on one side to boost the army's morale.

This was probably one of those cases.

Where else would you find a Wandering Minstrel who wanted to make and sing a hymn praising Cyprus?

Not to mention, that guy had probably never even seen the knight named Cyprus.

"You awake?"

Turning his head toward the voice, he saw Rem.

His side throbbed like crazy.

As he raised his hand to touch it, Rem lightly grabbed his hand.

"It just barely avoided breaking, so don't worry. They said your head got rattled pretty good instead, though. Here, how many is this?"

Rem wiggled his hand, unfolding and folding a few fingers.

"Eat shit."

Encrid tried to accept the current situation.

'Today' was over.

Just facing that situation made his mind chaotic.

It was hard to play along with Rem's jokes.

"See, I told you you'd lost your mind. It's me, Rem, the Squad Leader's eternal best friend."

"Crazy bastard."

"Did you forget me? That makes me pretty sad."

Encrid closed his eyes for a moment before opening them.

He had made it past today.

That meant a day had passed.

His mind was distracted. The dream had been far too chaotic.

'Didn't he say I wouldn't remember?'

And yet, it remained entirely vivid.

The black water, the rowboat, the Boatswain with no eyes, nose, or mouth.

Everything he said remained in his memory as well.

It felt a bit hazy, so it seemed like something from the distant past, though.

Since he was young, his memory, at least, had always been good.

Encrid remembered everything.

"I didn't forget. Noble Hunter."

When he recited what used to be Rem's nickname.

"Shh, I told you that's a secret."

Only then did his joking stop. And he glared reprovingly. It was as if asking why he brought that up.

Encrid gathered his senses.

First of all.

"What happened to me?"

Only then was he able to hear a proper account of what happened.

The dead soldier, his unrecognizably improved skills, and the Frog.

'A Frog intervened?'

He had been working as a mercenary for several years, but this was the first time he had seen a Frog in person.

And, of course, the first time he'd been hit by one.

It was a relief that all of his ribs hadn't been broken.

If you met a Frog as an enemy on the battlefield?

"Run."

"Hide."

"Die."

Three veteran mercenaries had each given a different answer.

Still, the conclusion was the same.

That if you couldn't run or hide, you would die.

That's how dangerous and terrifying a Frog was.

Combat races were all like that.

Giants, dragonewts, fairies too.

Every race was born with abilities superior to humans.

However, humans were the ones who grew to the knight class the most.

That was probably why humans possessed the largest sphere of influence on this continent.

"After that, I 'personally' carried you on my back and ran out of the battlefield. It was a treacherous path, to say the least. I almost died."

He wouldn't be talking like this if it was actually dangerous.

"I owe you one."

"If you know that much, you can easily do dish duty for me around ten times."

This bastard, really.

Encrid sighed inwardly but nodded.

Even after Encrid told him to leave if he was done talking, Rem didn't get up so easily.

He had his usual smiling face.

"Did you practice on your own? Where I couldn't see?"

Wondering what he was talking about this time, Encrid looked at him.

"Your Heart seems to have ripened, hasn't it?"

Hmm?

"I'm the one who taught it to you, you thought I wouldn't recognize it?"

'Ah!'

Encrid realized that Rem had been watching him.

Well, since he was watching, he was able to help him at the right time.

"It just happened. After passing a few life-or-death crises, I figured out what it was."

He had already thought of a plausible excuse dozens of times.

It was the most plausible of them all.

It was also a truth unmixed with lies.

Just slightly downplayed.

He couldn't exactly say he had actually died instead of just passing a few life-or-death crises, could he?

"Good job."

Only then did Rem brush off his seat and stand up.

"Get some good rest. Your body has to recover so there can be a next time."

Encrid finally looked around. It was the Medical Barracks.

The place where the wounded were gathered.

Should I try standing up?

As he tried to raise his body, a soldier sitting off to one side spoke with hazy eyes.

"You shouldn't move yet. If you overdo it, it will get worse. Your head was shaken up a lot."

It seemed as though an army surgeon had actually visited a mere private.

For a mere private, if they got hurt, they'd be lucky if one of their comrades knew a bit about medicinal herbs.

If not, simply dying was a common occurrence.

'I somehow managed to make it to the Medical Barracks.'

How he got here didn't really matter.

He could just find out later.

More than that.

'I made it past today.'

The important thing was that a new day had begun.

Looking toward the entrance of the tent, light was shining in through the gap.

It wasn't sunlight.

The light of flickering torches, and shadows moving back and forth with it.

The Wandering Minstrel's song still continued.

"Who is the hero!"

"Cyprus!"

Accompanied by the chorus of a group of soldiers shouting back.

He had made it past today and lived to see the next day.

But it seemed he had spent the entire morning and afternoon passed out, only waking up in the evening.

"Has a day passed?"

When he asked the medic on standby.

"What do you mean a day, it's the second day."

The impact must have been huge.

Encrid thought so and closed his eyes.

Anyway, what mattered was that he had passed today.

He had beaten that stabbing soldier.

He overcame him with skill.

Afterward, Encrid thought about the Boatswain.

He recalled and mulled over the words he had said.

He had no choice but to do so.

Because he said it would repeat.

Therefore.

'If I die, today will repeat again.'

The Boatswain spoke as if he was telling him to receive a punishment.

However.

'Why is that a punishment?'

To Encrid, that wasn't a punishment, it was a reward.