Chapter 127 - Today's Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow's Victory (3)

"Mm."

It was the pitch-black dead of night.

At Encrid's groan, Esther lifted her head.

'Stupid human.'

Why did he have to work his body this hard?

Esther had learned something before.

If she used all the power she had to relieve his fatigue, her own body would tire first instead.

And why had that happened?

Because she had become too absorbed in the grimoire Encrid had picked up.

'It is useful, though.'

There were many things in it she had to discern, sort out, and use.

As she brooded alone, she suddenly remembered that right now she could not even look into her own world of spells, and she felt miserable.

'Why am I in this state?'

"Huu."

The feeling of misery lasted only a brief moment.

Before she could lament her situation, the man holding her in his arms groaned again.

A mad human who began the start of every day with training, no matter the moment.

She did not know what he carried within his body, but something this man held was slowly breaking down the curse placed on her body.

'I should just do what I need to do.'

Since the speed of that collapse accelerated when the man's physical condition was good, Esther worked as usual to ease his fatigue.

Instead of opening her world of spells, she used her own body as a medium to draw fatigue out of the man's body and scatter it.

In the midst of that, parts of the man's dreams or thoughts would sometimes be projected into her mind.

Before, only swords had appeared at random.

At other times, she had seen things like a deep black well.

Today, she glimpsed part of a dream.

The dream seemed like a fragment of the man's past.

Through the jumbled dream, someone's face began to take shape.

For whatever reason, that face appeared clearly only because it had left a deep impression on the man now holding her.

Seeing it, Esther frowned.

'Damn, he's ugly.'

In truth, rather than ugly, how should she put it? It was more like he held endless vileness.

That was the air about him.

More precisely, that was probably how the human named Encrid saw that man.

Esther watched the man's dream.

In the dream, it was long, but in reality, it was only an instant.

'Stop wandering.'

Just do what you always do.

Esther scolded the man.

Dreaming of crap like that made it hard to shake off his fatigue.

At that one remark, the dream ended, and the groans leaving the man's mouth cut off.

Soon, only the breathing of the man who had fallen into a deep sleep reached Esther's ears.

* * *

As soon as Encrid opened his eyes, he knew this was a dream.

'Again?'

He was merely surprised that he was having the same dream again.

If the Boatswain of the Black River had appeared, he would have simply accepted it instead.

A moment from the past.

How many times had he dreamed of it already?

At one time, he had thought of it as a nightmare, but after recalling it and turning it over so many times, now it had become just another moment.

"You, hmm. I'll just let you live."

Killing intent bristled sharply.

A mercenary with triangular eyes.

Lying beside him was a comrade he had started the job with.

Even if they had only known each other's faces for three days, they had been in a position where they had to entrust their backs to each other and fight.

No, they had been.

The job had begun as a beast subjugation request.

"One or two harpies are causing trouble. We'd appreciate it if you caught them."

It had been a village on the outskirts of the kingdom, so he had said all the villagers had emptied their pockets to gather crona.

The village chief's son, who had come all the way to the nearest city, hired five mercenaries.

Encrid had been among them.

And this bastard had been among them too.

CAW!

A cry like a crow.

Swaying breasts, the harpy's talons plunging down.

A comrade he had known for quite some time lost his life to the harpy's strike.

"Watch the situation and step in moderately. If you keep charging in like that, you won't die of old age."

His tongue had been poisonous, but he had been a mercenary with a decent heart.

He had not been a friend who should have died like this.

It was thanks to the triangular-eyed bastard stabbing him from behind.

A simultaneous strike from front and back, timed with the harpy's attack.

He had fallen to a coordinated attack by monster and human.

After that, the triangular-eyed mercenary drew his sword and swung it.

TRILLING!

With a strange sound, the thin blade swept through the area.

It bent and extended.

It moved at a speed he could not properly see.

SWISH!

The sound of the bastard's sword cutting through the air was extremely distinctive.

And the sword that flew through the air punched a hole in his comrade's head.

In his heart, his thigh, his forearm too, the trick performed by the flexible, bending blade killed his comrade.

After killing them all, what the bastard said was that he would let Encrid live.

A fishy smile, killing intent scattering.

Those eyes said Encrid was not worth facing.

Encrid did not get angry, nor did he shout.

He silently raised his sword.

"What? You want to fight me?"

Words were unnecessary.

Before they could even exchange many blows, a hole opened in his shoulder.

"I told you, I'm letting you live."

That was all.

Then he left.

The fact that Encrid survived afterward was more than half luck.

"I heard they all died, so how?"

The village he barely reached alive from the land where beasts and monsters dwelt.

The city he reached after recovering there, then risking his life on another journey.

The bastard was already gone.

He could not even complain to the guild he belonged to.

Before he knew it, the bastard had become a core figure in the guild.

Rumors later spread that even a bastard like that eventually became a wanderer a few years later.

Had they said he had touched some noble's daughter he should not have?

Back then, the reason he killed Encrid's comrades had been similar.

"Fuck, who the hell are you to run your mouth?"

It had happened because another mercenary who knew the bastard's old habit had reprimanded him.

The reason he let Encrid live?

Encrid had not asked, so he did not know.

But he had glimpsed something like self-satisfaction.

A mercenary who had not even been a match.

Because he did not kill just anyone, there had to be good reason for those who died.

"Poor bastard."

Those were the words the bastard left behind as he departed.

Encrid thought the world was unfair.

He also thought that skill and character were separate things.

'He was a dogshit bastard.'

A dream was only a dream.

If Encrid had been just another person.

He would have had to make that man the target of his revenge.

But he did not.

If the chance came, he would raise his sword and question him for the sin of that day.

But he did not burn his life for that one thing.

He did not throw away his life for the comrade who had lost his heart to a harpy.

He merely set aside all that resentment and all those memories, and burned his life toward his dream.

That was Encrid's life.

Firmly and steadfastly.

'The likes of you isn't even worth killing.'

Even if the other man looked at him that way, rather than be wounded by it, he would simply move forward.

Even if dark, damp, fearful, and painful memories tried to erode him.

He would silently endure them and shake them off.

'Meaningless things.'

Would despair and suffering pressing down on his shoulders help when he swung his sword?

Could they become good milestones on the path to living the life he wished for and wanted?

No.

So he did not do it.

In the time he could have spent despairing, he swung his sword.

In the time he could have spent dwelling on his comrade's death, he swung his sword.

In the time he could have spent swearing revenge, he swung his sword.

"Shall I kill you this time?"

The dream twisted.

Somehow, it seemed as if the Boatswain was faintly visible behind the bastard.

Just then, the memory from that time surged in like waves, becoming a chaotic sea and dyeing everything around him.

MEOW.

From somewhere came the languid cry of a beast.

That was the end of it.

The dream blurred and shattered.

'Stop wandering.'

He heard someone's voice.

It was clear and bright.

And yet hot.

That was how it felt.

'Esther?'

For no reason, Encrid thought of a panther with blue eyes.

At the end of the shattered, fragmented dream.

BWOOOOOOO!

At the sound of the horn trumpet, Encrid opened his eyes.

This time, it was reality.

The familiar ceiling of the tent came into view.

The panther nestled in his arms was sleeping soundly, still as death.

A faint warmth heated his chest.

When he turned his head outside the tent, the morning sun had yet to rise.

A deep blue light seeped in subtly.

Encrid was not the only one who reacted to the horn trumpet.

"Good morning."

It was Rem.

Rem sprang up and began gathering his arms.

"Ugh, fuck, it's still cold."

The barbarian especially hated the cold.

Even though there was no wind that could be called a biting gale like before, he spat out complaints.

Even so, his hands did not stop.

As usual, he put on a not particularly thick gambeson, stuck two axes into his belt, and stood.

Audin also rose from his place and gathered his two clubs.

"May this be a day full of blessings. Good morning, Brother."

No one answered, but no one scolded him for it either.

Jaxon had already put on his arms at some point.

And Ragna was moving already, so much so that it would be hard to call him a sluggard today.

That did not mean Ragna sprang up and moved in a hurry, but he quietly gathered his arms.

Encrid did not merely watch them either.

Three Whistle Daggers remained.

He put on a thin shirt in place of underwear, and over that, leather armor torn near the right shoulder.

The leather armor was thin and soft, making it comfortable to wear.

Once he put on a gambeson as well, then boots and gauntlets, it was complete.

One guard sword at his waist.

One knife on his left leg.

A tear still remained on the right gauntlet from when he had faced the Frog before.

Thinking about it, the leather armor and gauntlets alike had to be considered half ruined.

'Can sewing fix this?'

It seemed like it might not.

In any case, it was not something to solve right now.

Andrew, Mac, and Henri only heard things like youngest, baggage, and such because they were in the lunatic platoon; they were more than skilled enough to be called seasoned soldiers.

On top of that, Andrew had also shown that his skills were no joke by earning merit in killing an enemy soldier before.

The excitement from then had now faded, but his confidence remained.

They too gathered their arms.

"What is it?"

Andrew asked.

"What do you think?"

Rem looked at Andrew with pathetic eyes.

"Looks like the ones who were hiding have come out."

Mac spoke after putting the situation before and after into his head.

What other reason would there be to blow the horn trumpet from dawn, especially at a time when they could not even secure visibility because of the fog?

Krais rubbed his eyes and thought the same thing.

If they came charging in from the damn morning, his skin would get worse.

The idle thought lasted only a moment, and afterward his mind spun rapidly.

Their side had deployed more soldiers than usual for scouting.

The same went for guard duty.

They had not shared drinks in joy over their victory.

They had not given out extra food either.

That meant the battle was not over yet.

The commanders of each unit must each have steadied the mood of their units.

They would leave the battle they had won as a battle they had won.

But they had prepared for what came next.

There was a saying on the battlefield.

That today's victory did not guarantee tomorrow's victory.

'As expected, he is a decent commander.'

Krais thought highly of Marcus.

He did not understand every one of his choices, but he thought they were reasonable to some degree.

"Assemble! All forces, assemble!"

Outside, the messenger's voice rang out.

In the midst of this, Krais found it odd that the enemy had hidden.

Why hole up and endure it in their position?

If they were going to flee, they should flee, or make a last stand, or request reinforcements, or do something.

But they simply hid?

Why?

The answer to a simple question could not always be simple.

But sometimes, it could come out clear and plain.

'Because even in the current situation, they think they still have the advantage. Or they think they have a chance to turn it around.'

In other words, they had another hidden move.

The Battalion Commander would not be unaware of that either.

Now it would be a matter of whose prediction was more accurate.

Was the blade Aspen had prepared sharper?

Or was their commander's shield sturdier?

Well, that part was not something Krais could do anything about.

"If you don't want to be left alone, shouldn't you get armed?"

Encrid lightly tapped Krais on the head while he was lost in thought.

"Ah, yes."

In any case, he had to stick close to this side today.

Encrid could see what Krais was thinking.

He seemed to be planning not to leave his side for the time being.

If not, he would not be putting on a gambeson like that.

They said there was no one in the world who wanted to die, but seeing how Krais treasured his own life made Encrid think he was truly impressive.

A guy who would survive no matter what.

That was how he looked.

When they went outside the barracks, everywhere was busy.

The troops moved and gathered in their own ways at the sound of the horn trumpet and the messenger's words.

"Heh heh, I smell it. I smell it."

Somehow, Rem looked to be in a good mood.

"The fog is annoying, but, hmm, it's fine."

Ragna was not being lazy.

"If you sharpen your senses, fog cannot become an obstacle."

Jaxon was unusually kind today.

"The Lord says there are many empty seats in heaven today."

Audin's prayer sounded more ferocious than ever lately.

He was going to fill the empty seats in heaven?

It sounded like he was saying he would beat them to death on purpose.

Andrew, Mac, even Henri.

His body felt light.

When they had sparred yesterday, Encrid had felt power welling up endlessly.

It had felt as if he were drawing on tomorrow's strength today.

'Good.'

Even though he had worked his body so harshly yesterday, his condition was good today too.

No, it seemed even better than yesterday.

'No pain in my wrist.'

New flesh had already grown over the cuts and stab wounds.

It was a harmony created by divinity and fairy medicine.

"All forces, advance! Move out! Forward! Forward!"

Ahead, the messenger raised his voice.

Their allied troops began to move through the fog.

The fog along the riverbank was thicker than any other day.

But it did not seem like a Spell.

It was purely his intuition, but unless the enemy were fools, they would not use the same method twice.

He also thought their side must have prepared for that.

"Good. Good."

That bastard Rem kept running his mouth.

"What is?"

"I get the feeling today will be fun."

Sometimes, when he looked at that bastard Rem, Encrid wondered what was inside his head.

The problem was that Encrid had that feeling too.

Beyond the fog, he felt as if some new enemy was approaching.

In other words, his heart had begun to pound with the excitement of battle.

When everyone around them, even the commander standing at the front, finished forming ranks while tense.

"Fuuuck!"

The voice of an allied soldier at the very front burst out.

"Shoot! Shoot, now!"

Beyond the blurry fog, Encrid could see a strange sight.

It was a hazy gray shadow.

Its physique was like a bear's, and its head was far above.

It was a mass even larger than Audin.

A monster shadow, with something like a head attached at a place one and a half times higher than Encrid himself, was charging through the rain of arrows.