Chapter 13 - Review

Even after passing out for two straight days, Encrid slept for another half day.

When he woke up, things like bread and soup were placed before him.

A long shadow fell over the bread and soup, then disappeared.

He turned his eyes toward the half-open tent entrance. It seemed to be dawn.

There was no sound of people coming and going, and perhaps because few torches had been set up, the light entering the barracks entrance was much dimmer than before.

Everyone inside the barracks was asleep.

Encrid reached out for the bread.

'My arms move without any issues.'

Since he was already reaching out, Encrid tried to twist his body halfway to sit up.

STING.

Pain flared up from his side. It hurt so much that even the back of his head tingled.

'Still, if it's only to this extent.'

Rem had said it wasn't broken.

In his own judgment, that was true.

He was told he had passed out from his head being rattled, but fortunately, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with his skull.

He wasn't dizzy, and his eyes, nose, and ears were all perfectly fine.

DIP.

He tore the bread, dipped it into the cold soup, and shoved it into his mouth.

'My tongue is fine too.'

He must have been incredibly hungry, because even this tasted delicious.

His tongue reacted to the subtle sweetness of the wheat. Whatever was boiled into it, the soup was only slightly more seasoned than plain water, but it was enough to fill his empty stomach.

As if the thick soup and bread were a meal from a proper restaurant, Encrid chewed each bite thoroughly and swallowed slowly.

'If you eat in a rush after passing out, your stomach will flip.'

He knew this from experience.

Normally, this was something the soldier guarding the Medical Barracks should have told him.

The soldier he saw in the evening had looked like everything was a bother to him.

In the first place, a soldier guarding the Medical Barracks—was that even a necessary role?

'He must have connections.'

Otherwise, why would a guy with perfectly fine limbs be stuck doing something like guarding wounded soldiers here.

After filling his stomach, he forced himself to sit up.

If you lie down right after eating, you won't digest it.

If you're hurt, you have to eat well and rest well first.

Eating well also included properly digesting what you ate.

"Phew."

Letting out a small sigh, Encrid stared blankly at the flickering light at the tent entrance.

His eyes were looking at the flickering torch, but his mind was actually filled with other thoughts.

The repeating day, today, the day he had finally overcome.

Encrid reviewed that 'today' over and over again.

He went over that moment so much it could appear in his dreams.

Looking only at the stab itself, it was excellent. Even he thought it was an exceptionally clean strike.

'Dragging the fight out to that point wasn't bad either.'

The Valen Mercenary Sword Technique was a huge help.

It was also thanks to the training he had built up through the countless repetitions of today.

Even so, he couldn't say he did everything well.

'It was clumsy.'

That was the result of reviewing that moment countless times.

Someone passed by the front of the barracks.

FLARE.

The shadow of the soldier passing in front of the burning torch stretched out long.

The stretched shadow soon turned into the Stabbing Pervert in Encrid's imagination.

'When I stabbed.'

What if the opponent had dodged?

The shadow dodges the stab. After dodging, he swiftly swings his sword and slashes.

The blade passed by, slicing the neck of the shadow playing the role of Encrid far too easily.

'Then the one who dies is me.'

Fully prepared? Yeah, right.

'It was lacking.'

If the opponent had been just a little smarter, if he had known how to fight just a little better.

If he had just a tiny bit more experience.

If he had at least survived until the next battlefield.

'No, I'm going too far.'

This is a leap in logic.

If I keep thinking like this, there will be no end to it.

The shadow fighting with a sword was a figment of his imagination, and it disappeared when he shook off the thought.

Encrid stopped caring about what had already happened.

'Rather than playing 'what if', let's think about the next step.'

Rem had said he needed to know how to stab with all his might.

But even so, he wouldn't be able to put that into every attack.

So he racked his brain.

He would only show the stab once.

Before that, he would continuously agitate the opponent.

If the provoked opponent attempted to stab, he would counterattack.

'I risked everything on one stab.'

A stab where failing meant death.

Was that really the right way?

He shouldn't lead a fight like that. Encrid knew that too.

If it hadn't worked and he had to face a new today, what should he have done?

'If the stab didn't work, would I have had to rely on luck?'

No, he couldn't do that.

That was unacceptable.

Not luck, but skill.

Encrid told himself that was the best way to capitalize on the opportunity given to him.

Just because he was mulling it over didn't mean he was swallowed by self-deprecation.

It was simply the process of reviewing the facts and separating what he lacked from what he did well.

Just like he had always done after a battle or a spar.

"If you fight with about half your life on the line and survive, that fight will become your asset. Encie."

The old swordsman was a sword instructor who just taught kids in a quiet coastal city.

Looking purely at his skills, it was a level that would be embarrassing to make a name for oneself in even a small commercial city, let alone a large metropolis.

But his teaching, at least, wasn't bad.

At least to him, he was a truly excellent teacher.

"If you plan on making a living by the sword until you die, then after a battle ends, digest everything you gained from that battle, shit it out, and digest it again. That will be the way you survive."

It was likely the path the old teacher had experienced and walked himself.

He limped on his left foot.

And his entire body was covered in sword scars.

A lesson earned by literally throwing his body into it.

That instructor also charged a lot for tuition.

He didn't consider it a waste.

Because it was quite a valuable time.

Now was the time to reflect on what he had learned from him.

'There has to be another way.'

He couldn't stab with his full strength at every moment.

Because then the one who died would be him.

Rem probably didn't fight like that either.

But when it actually came time to spar with that crazy bastard Rem, he could feel that every single one of his axe swings carried a heavy weight and murderous intent.

'How is that possible?'

The joy of successfully executing the stab lasted only a brief moment.

Encrid did not get intoxicated by the sense of accomplishment.

No, he was happy.

He also felt a great sense of satisfaction at having overcome a wall through his own efforts.

But he didn't stop there.

Naturally, Encrid pictured tomorrow.

The time after succeeding in the stab.

Because he could now see the tomorrow that had been invisible before he succeeded.

He was walking while reaching his hand toward that tomorrow's sun.

'What if I strike with full force but don't commit my entire mind to it?'

He was getting closer to the answer like that.

There was too little he could figure out just by racking his brain.

Still, it was fine.

Because right now surely wasn't all the time Encrid was given.

The faceless Boatswain had said.

That this wasn't the end.

That walls would continue to appear.

'Did he say it repeats?'

Then he just had to put his life on the line and challenge it again.

Knowing that such a moment would come again made his heart pound.

A strange heat starting from his lower abdomen warmed his entire body.

Encrid ignored that heat.

Now was not the time to push his body.

'First of all, rest.'

Even without a doctor, his own self-diagnosis told him he needed a few good days of rest for his throbbing side.

'But how the hell did I get here?'

What usually happened when a soldier got hurt?

Regardless of severity, they would either get treated in their own barracks until they croaked.

'If they had the pull, they'd get treated with a doctor by their side.'

Or, if the Goddess of Luck showered them with coins, they might even receive a priest's prayer.

Because divine healing was on a level that was only possible with a combination of luck and connections.

Of course, it would be a different story for a high-ranking commander.

In any case, Encrid was none of the three.

If so, that meant someone had pulled some strings here too.

'I don't know.'

Seeing as he was slowly starting to burp, it seemed he had fully digested the food.

Encrid lay back down and slept.

He slept very soundly.

Because when you're hurt, eating well and sleeping well is the best.

When he opened his eyes the next day.

He saw a pair of large, round eyes.

"Back your face up."

When he pushed Big-eyes' face with his hand, Big-eyes retreated before the hand even touched him.

"You were sleeping so soundly that I felt bad waking you, but you woke up with good timing."

"Yeah, right."

He was the type of guy you'd be lucky if he didn't kick you awake for wasting his time.

"Tsk, who do you think got our Squad Leader in here?"

Big-eyes said, straightening his shoulders.

He had wondered whose doing it was.

Come to think of it, among the squad members, no one other than Big-eyes or Jaxon had this kind of resourcefulness.

"I loosened my purse strings quite a bit for this. You owe me one. Don't forget."

He had never asked to be put in here.

Still, a good thing was a good thing.

The Medical Barracks had better meals than the regular barracks and was located in the rear.

It also had the advantage of not requiring him to do anything.

Because he was exempt from all duties and the like.

If not for here, he would have had to groan while clutching his sore side and manage the squad members.

'But will the squad run fine without me?'

It was a useless worry.

Who was the weakest member of Squad 444 worrying about?

'Ah, the weakest is this guy.'

Big-eyes was terrible at fighting.

That didn't mean he lacked talent, though.

Whatever trick he used, whenever a battle broke out, he would always slip away to the rear, claiming to be part of a special unit.

He certainly had quite the knack.

This time, Encrid also benefited from that knack.

"Do you want me to bow my head to thank you?"

"No need for a grand greeting. Just don't forget it."

'What's so important about me not forgetting?'

"Got it."

"Great. Well then, I'm busy so I'll be off."

To think he came all the way to visit him while so busy, he was simply honored.

Big-eyes and Rem weren't the only ones who came.

Jaxon tossed him a small container, saying he dropped by while passing through.

"If you apply it to your side once a day, the pain will lessen a bit. Don't tell anyone where you got this."

"I'm guessing it's a secret especially from our squad members, right?"

Jaxon shrugged his shoulders and abruptly left.

When he twisted open the container, which was only about two finger joints in size, he saw a dark green ointment.

'Did he crush up some medicinal herbs or something to make this?'

If he made it for him, it was a profound display of sincerity.

Of course, that wasn't the case.

It was an item he had seen a few times before.

Though it was his first time using it.

He scooped out a bit of ointment with the tip of his finger, slipped his hand under his clothes, and gently spread it over his side.

Sharp, stinging pain surged every time he moved.

But the area where he applied the ointment grew warm, and the pain became much more bearable.

'This is nice.'

Thinking he should use it sparingly, Encrid closed the container tightly and put it under his bed.

'But was the Medical Barracks close to our barracks? It doesn't seem like it's on the way to anywhere.'

Whatever. Getting a highly effective ointment was all that mattered.

After that, two other squad members came and went.

"I'm sorry, Squad Leader. I don't have anything I can do for you."

One squad member who spoke as if he could have done something but didn't.

"The squad is a mess without our Squad Leader. Eat this."

To the squad member who tossed a half-eaten apple and left.

The last guy to drop by had definitely done so while passing through.

Because this punk had a habit of getting lost.

He even heard him outside the Medical Barracks saying, 'Our Squad Leader is here? Why?'

'That bastard didn't even know I was hurt in the first place.'

Raising squad members was all for nothing.

'Not that I raised them, though.'

They were all guys who knew how to fight well and run away well on their own, except for Encrid himself.

'Let me just worry about my own business.'

How much of a mess could the squad really become just because he was missing?

They would all get along fine on their own.

It was right to put aside useless worries.

Rather than that.

"You bastard."

This one bothered him more.

A new guest who came in while he was resting nicely alone.

A guy who had entered the barracks around lunchtime.

The Medical Barracks was large. If people squeezed in, more than ten could lie down.

However, there were only three patients in total in this large barracks.

Encrid, with his hurting side.

A Platoon Commander staring at him, who had joined as of today.

And a blonde lying in the corner, idly wiggling his fingers while staring at the ceiling.

The one who spoke to Encrid was the Platoon Commander.

"Skills at the level of the lowest private, and a mercenary background to boot, yet you're a Squad Leader. Do you take turns offering your ass to your squad members? How did you become a Squad Leader?"

That's why this guy was more of a problem.

He was acquainted with this Platoon Commander.

He was the Platoon Commander from the adjacent Company who was always itching to tear him apart.

His name was Vengeance.

Whoever came up with it, they certainly gave him a fitting name.

The reason Vengeance hated him? He didn't know.

He was a guy who growled at him from the very first time they met.

"And now you're in the Medical Barracks; you've got an easy life, you bastard."

'Yeah, I think so too.'

His life really was quite easy right now.

It would have been absolutely perfect if only Platoon Commander Vengeance wasn't in the bed next to him.

"Yes, it's nice to see you. Platoon Commander."

"Nice to see me?"

Then should he say it's complete shit?

Encrid was an adult.

He knew how to wear a mask.

"Yes, a little."

"A little?"

"Because I'm not extremely thrilled to see you."

"This punk."

Vengeance flared up in anger. But he didn't lunge at him.

It was more accurate to say he couldn't.

He had suffered a deep slash to his thigh in the previous battle.

To the point where even getting up right now was difficult for him.

Therefore.

'Isn't now the perfect opportunity to thoroughly make fun of him?'

Encrid was an adult. He knew how to wear a mask.

And he also knew how to mock an insufferable bastard.