Chapter 125 - Today's Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow's Victory (1)

"Shoot! Kill them!"

The commander leading Aspen's light armored unit shouted.

Three soldiers running at the front aimed their loaded crossbows and fired.

THUNK THUNK THUNK!

Three crossbows; at this distance, dodging the bolts they fired was said to be a feat among feats.

Unless one was a master, it was not even something one could attempt.

THUD, THUD THUD.

Rem dodged the crossbows simply by rolling forward at the moment the bolts came flying.

THUNK THUNK THUNK.

The moment Rem rolled, the bolts buried themselves where he had been.

It looked close, but since it was Rem doing it, it did not look dangerous.

Even as he rolled, Rem's running speed barely slowed.

He rolled at the same speed he had been running, used his axe as a support to get back up, then kept running.

How did a person have to handle their body to make something like that possible?

Even Encrid, watching from behind, could not help but be impressed.

"Just stand back and watch."

If Ragna beside him had not kept stopping him, Encrid would have liked to lend his blade as well.

But there was no chance for that.

Starting with Rem, they finished everything on their own.

Before the three soldiers who had fired their crossbows could reload their bolts, Rem was close enough that his hands might touch them.

The enemy soldiers reflexively drew their shortswords.

They were armed differently from the spearmen.

Even if three or four spearmen gathered and formed a formation with their spears, would Rem so much as blink?

He would not.

But three shortswords?

There was no way they could be a match.

The scene unfolded exactly as Encrid had expected.

SLASH! THUNK! CRACK!

As the axe split the wind, one enemy soldier's head flew off, and around Rem, who moved like a storm, the axe drew trails like streaks of light.

Everyone caught in those trails died.

The axe blows were so fast and fierce that when the axe that had split a skull came free, blood and brain matter only then spilled onto the ground.

One enemy soldier whose head had been split stabbed at the air with his shortsword as if flailing.

The enemy soldier, dead before his body could finish reacting, soon pitched forward.

Blood gushed across the ground.

Leaving the fallen men behind, Rem began to run wild.

And Jaxon, who had vanished at some point, got behind the enemy commander.

Behind the commander, whose mouth had fallen open in shock at the sight of Rem, Jaxon drew his dagger.

SLICE.

The enemy commander's neck was cut, and blood sprayed out in a sharp spurt.

It was blood spraying because the carotid artery had been cut exactly.

Jaxon moved again.

Quietly, without a sound, and his priorities were clear.

First, the crossbowmen aiming for Encrid.

He acted exactly as he thought.

He got behind them and slit their throats with his dagger, or stabbed into their lungs.

"Ghk!"

The head of a soldier holding a crossbow twisted backward.

There were indifferent brown pupils tinged with a red light.

Killing people was nothing more than simple labor.

It was the height of numbness.

The enemy soldier ended his life while looking into those terrible eyes.

Audin only struck down the enemies who rushed at him.

Literally, he only swung his palms left and right to knock them away, but that was enough.

CRACK! SNAP!

With a single slap, an enemy soldier went flying sideways.

Yellow teeth burst from the mouth of a man who had charged in shouting with a shortsword in hand and scattered through the air.

This was not a fight.

If a single slap sent a body floating into the air, what could they do?

Mac moved as well.

He, too, was a soldier who could do his part.

He stood back-to-back with Andrew, and Henri took position in the center, drawing and firing his shortbow again and again.

Ragna went without saying.

One step forward.

He walked as he advanced.

For those caught by his swinging sword, only death awaited.

One of the scouts charged at him with two shortswords, one in each hand, but even that ended with Ragna swinging his sword twice.

CLANG.

He blocked the first strike, and the sword that bounced off then swam through the air like a swallow, striking past the enemy soldier's neck with a sharp tap.

With a wet rip, a second mouth opened in the enemy soldier's neck.

Ragna swung his sword like that a few times, shook his head, and flicked the blood from the blade into the air.

By the look of him, he was very displeased with the sword he was holding.

Considering he still did not get himself a proper sword while acting like that, he was definitely not a normal person.

Encrid had nothing to do.

There was nothing for him to step in for, and the fight had ended in an instant.

While Mac, Andrew, and Henri killed two of them.

The rest were slaughtered.

"Pull out."

Instead of voicing his admiration, Encrid opened his mouth.

What would they do, wedging themselves between the two armies charging at each other?

For now, they had to circle to the side, pull back, and watch the situation.

As they moved aside like that, the enemy infantry whose shields were decorated with arrows met the allied infantry.

Like lovers long separated meeting again to share love and exchange affection, the two armies did the same.

Instead of love, tongues, and affection.

They gouged at each other's eyes with their spears.

THUD THUD THUD THUD!

Spearheads tore through one another's bodies.

Allies died, and enemies died as well.

But the direction of the battle had already tipped.

It was the first large-scale battle.

And as a result of the Border Guard's surprise attack and an excited Rem running a little wild, it was a great victory.

Where had the victory begun?

Naturally, with the lunatic platoon.

Starting with the Platoon Commander who had run his mouth, all the way to Andrew, who had actually swung his sword.

"Uoooooh! Get lost!"

"We won!"

"Lunatics!"

No, but there was no need to openly call them crazy like that.

The eyes of the infantry, meaning the allied soldiers, fixed on one side.

They were the ones with blood smeared here and there across their bodies.

It was the Independent Platoon, Rem included.

All of them bore some traces of battle to some degree, but Encrid in the center was perfectly fine.

His breathing had not even quickened.

In truth, he had not swung his sword once.

He had not been able to throw even a single dagger.

Recover your body first.

The will of every platoon member had been clear.

"It's the lunatic platoon!"

"Encrid! Encie! You're handsome!"

"Good! Good! Good!"

The cheers of those drunk on victory poured down on Encrid and the others around him.

No matter who had done the work, this Independent Platoon was Encrid's platoon.

So there were those who called his name as well.

He wondered if he should do something.

Maybe raise his hand or something.

But he had not swung his sword once.

After the first fight, he had actually fallen back, and the infantry, said to be the flower of the battlefield, had done the real fighting.

So why were they welcoming him this much?

"With an Independent Platoon, and one with fewer than ten members at that, if we've left this much of an impression, then we've done our job. Well."

Krais appeared from wherever he had been hiding and slipped in to rejoin them as he spoke.

"That may be so. But why does it feel like no one's looking for me?"

Probably because of karma.

Encrid only thought it and did not answer.

There was no need to spoil the mood right now.

Instead, he patted Rem on the shoulder.

"Good work."

Rem grinned.

Ragna retrieved his chipped sword.

"I need to get a sword."

He said that, giving his impression of the fight.

His attitude said that whether the people around them cheered or not had nothing to do with him.

The brief cheers, the joy of victory, and the infantry drunk on such things had just been withdrawn.

The allied commander did not overextend himself by pursuing the enemy.

From now on, their side had the upper hand in morale.

Their positions had completely changed.

Starting tomorrow, which side would find the battlefield more uncomfortable?

Krais watched the situation unfold and thought about the variables.

'What could there be?'

To survive and pick up a few things, he needed to make all sorts of calculations.

That was what Krais did.

It was not all that difficult, either.

The enemy's intention.

'They played tricks with sorcery on the previous battlefield.'

Would they not try something similar?

"Let's rest."

Those were Encrid's words after returning to the tent.

It was literally a moment when they needed to rest.

"Everyone is exempt from guard duty and everything else."

One of the messengers came and delivered those words.

He did wonder if the Fairy Company Commander might come looking for him again.

But no such thing happened.

Would today's victory become tomorrow's victory?

No one knew that.

Occupying the favorable ground did not mean one would win.

So around now, they were probably holding a strategy meeting with all their might to continue the victory.

Encrid's prediction was accurate.

Marcus was not drunk on victory.

* * *

"Seeing them just pull back like that, these bastards look like they've got something. They said they tried some bullshit with sorcery before, right? Any sign of that?"

"None, sir."

They stood in a circle around a wide table.

Marcus had just spoken, and his adjutant had answered.

Sorcery?

They could not fall for the same thing twice.

Their side had hired a shaman as well.

She was an old woman from the homeland, and though she did not have the skill to actually perform sorcery, she said she could sense it if the enemy tried some trick.

That alone was enough.

As far as Marcus was concerned, the world of sorcery and the like was none of his business.

All that mattered was that those words were true.

"If Aspen brings in asymmetrical forces, part of the Red Cape Knight Order will immediately provide support."

If the enemy mobilized knights or magicians.

It meant they were prepared as well.

Marcus nodded.

He was the type of commander who felt the air of the battlefield with his skin.

He used his head too, but in any case, he tended to ride the atmosphere.

'I really didn't want to go in.'

The enemy had retreated as if telling them to chase.

When he tried to follow after them, something had felt cold at the back of his head.

It was as if a banshee had breathed down his neck from behind.

The fact that a monster said to freeze human hearts with its wail had come to mind meant one thing.

His instincts were bad.

Marcus ended the battle there.

"Casualties among the Border Guard?"

"Two dead."

No matter how outstanding a special-grade soldier was, if they were cut by a blade and had arrows buried in them, it was only natural that they would die.

Even so, the fact that only two had died could be seen as a good showing.

The number of enemy soldiers killed by the Border Guard numbered in the dozens.

The damage dealt to the longbow unit in particular had been devastating.

Ordinarily, it would have been a won battlefield.

Now there were two desperate moves the enemy could make.

One was retreat.

The other was the deployment of asymmetrical forces.

Therefore, what Marcus had to do now was keep sending out Recon Parties relentlessly and confirm only the enemy's movements.

There was no battle the next day, and Marcus used twice the usual number of Recon Parties.

But they gained nothing.

Turtle was supposed to be the nickname of Naurilia's heavy armored troops, but the enemy endured like a turtle hiding inside its shell.

They did not show what was inside at all, and encounters between Recon Parties were rare.

It was a situation where they had deliberately withdrawn and were holding out only inside their position.

Were they telling them to come in?

That uneasy feeling still remained, so the words did not readily come out.

"If we strike now, it will be a complete victory. If they've prepared something in their position, can't we just shoot arrows first and wreck them?"

"We don't even need arrows. We can surround them from the outside, set fire to a few tents, and prod them with spearmen."

"What about moving the Border Guard to block the enemy's retreat route from behind?"

The adjutants each gave their opinions.

But.

'It feels wrong.'

"We wait."

Marcus decided to maintain the current state.

It was a judgment based on instinct.

The instinct that had saved him on countless battlefields until now spoke.

The enemy still had something.

* * *

Aspen's commander had seen the enemy's strength clearly.

Naurilia's methods were the same as ever.

'They stir things up with the Border Guard.'

That bastard Marcus's tactics were obvious too.

He compressed the strength he had and overturned the battlefield in one blow.

It had worked.

They had been struck from a place they had never expected, and the mood had reversed.

So?

What of it?

He had seen everything the enemy had prepared.

Then how would they stop what he was about to send?

Those crippled bastards living hidden under a woman's skirt.

The commander cursed Naurilia inwardly and sensed victory.

It was time for his battlefield to begin.

The start would be to kill that arrogant bastard from before.

The one they called a lunatic or whatever.

The bastard who had run his mouth with that fresh insult, ghoul head.

The one holding the axe.

That a small force could change the state of the battlefield was something the species known as knights had already proven.

Then did that small force have to be knights?

Aspen's commander had taken note of that and prepared a dagger.

No, it would not end as a dagger.

His dagger would become a mace that smashed the entire battlefield apart.

* * *

One day was enough for his injuries to recover completely.

A day with no duties, filling his stomach with quality meals, and resting well.

Encrid had a short dream in the middle of the night, but soon forgot it.

A ghost of the past had appeared.

A mercenary who had taught him that skill and character did not go hand in hand.

It was not such a pleasant memory, so there was no need to dwell on it.

In any case, divine power from Audin and medicine made by a Fairy.

It was such luxury that he wondered if he would ever enjoy anything like it again.

"It seems it was thanks to the medicine I sent."

That was what the Fairy Company Commander said when she came to visit from the morning.

Encrid was in the middle of training, drenched in sweat.

The isolation technique.

Among its parts, Audin said that now was the time to train the joints.

He did think they made him do all sorts of things.

But it was certain that, in the end, it always became a benefit and a tempering that made his body stronger.

Was he not already proving that with his own body?

Face down, he pressed the tips of his feet and his palms to the ground, pushed his body away, and straightened and bent his wrists.

At first, he had thought it was easy, but after doing it a few times, it was no ordinary ordeal.

Should he say it felt like a heavy weight was settling on his wrists?

There was the gaze of one Fairy watching him with her arms crossed.

There was the gaze of one panther, now quickly restored to vitality as if she had recovered her stamina.

Behind them was the gaze of one huge sadistic pervert watching in satisfaction.

Right in front of the tent was the gaze of one mad barbarian crouching and watching.

Besides them, there were gloomy reddish-brown eyes.

There was also Big-eyes, who kept scribbling something on the ground by himself and erasing it, who knew what he was thinking.

Lastly, a lazy genius swordsman who got lost at the drop of a hat was waiting beside him with a sword in hand.

"Didn't you have business here?"

Encrid asked the Company Commander as he finished his morning training.

The Fairy looked straight at Encrid with green eyes and opened her mouth.

"No."

Then why are you still there instead of leaving?

Even if he said it with his eyes, it did not work in the slightest.

"Are we doing it now?"

Ragna asked from beside him.

Ragna had won when they bet to decide the order.

So.

Encrid decided to spar.

He could fight now.

Moving his body did not put much strain on him.

Encrid's gaze turned toward Ragna.

Ragna looked like an impatient child.

Why did he want to spar this badly?

Encrid did not know.

But that was fine.

Well, had he ever known what he was getting into when facing them before?

Encrid gripped his sword.

For now, it was one sword, with both hands on the grip.

The tip of the sword pointed diagonally into the sky.

There was one more sword hanging at his waist.

Everyone had seen it, but they kept their mouths shut.

Encrid wanted to satisfy their expectations.

That desire boiled up inside him.