Chapter 132 - A Wayfarer Walking in Search of His Dream

Marcus felt dizzy.

Cold sweat ran down him. His forehead quickly grew damp.

'These bastards?'

His mouth went dry at the enemy's trick.

But he could not just stand by and watch. He was the commander of the current infantry battalion.

With reinforcements joining them, it was a force that had swollen to two battalions.

"Turtle Company, stand by in the rear! Everyone else, stop the giant! Do not break formation! Put arrows in the back of any bastard who retreats!"

The adjutant who heard his order repeated the same words.

Messengers who heard the shortened order ran in every direction.

"Fuck, stop it! Just stop it! You die even if you retreat!"

It could have become the worst possible situation. He had forced sacrifices on the soldiers, so morale would plummet, and seizing the high ground on a battlefield once they started getting pushed back would become nothing but a dream.

Even so, there was no helping it.

For now, he needed time to pull the unit together.

Horn flutes rang out again and again.

BWOOOOOO!

Marcus looked at the fog damply blocking his vision and thought.

It was a goddamn, fucked-up environment.

Hadn't they said they had nearly all died because of this insane fog on the previous battlefield too?

Though that time, it had been fog created by a Spell.

How had they resolved it then?

Through the previous Battalion Commander's wit and tactics?

'Bullshit not even a dog would believe.'

He knew what kind of man the previous Battalion Commander was. A soldier of noble birth who loved bribes.

A bastard whose greed ran ahead of his ability.

Someone else had to be the hero who broke the Spell.

Everyone kept quiet about it, but it had to be that Platoon Commander who let the nickname Spellbreaker spread within the unit.

The soldier bursting with luck, the soldier rumored to have slept with the Goddess of Fortune.

A somehow different soldier, who, after being sent to Cross Guard, had solved even the trouble there and returned.

For some reason, that soldier came to mind at this moment.

The name of the soldier he had called in to control the lunatic platoon and make them do something remained clear in his head.

Encrid.

And when the chain of thoughts that followed him ended.

Beyond the fog slowly growing faint.

A being several heads taller than a human came into view.

"Insane."

A giant.

The enemy commander bastard had come prepared.

Rather than fight halfheartedly, he had gathered his strength into one and picked a fight with the main force.

If this was a gamble, it was like putting the entire stake on the table.

'Ha, and in the middle of this, he's pulling that shit?'

In truth, it had been one drastic move after another from earlier.

Lowering morale with duels that put soldiers forward.

Stabbing at the rear.

Trying to overturn the board in one blow by sending out a giant.

Was this the harmony wrought by a genius of strategy?

Or was it an ignorant strategy pushed through recklessly that happened to fit by chance?

He did not know.

The battlefield spoke only through results.

Achievements and victory alike were the same.

So if he lost here, it would be because of Marcus's own shortcomings.

When impatience struck his chest, he laughed without realizing it.

He had not earned the nickname Warmonger for nothing.

Marcus felt his desires, cravings, and primal instincts boiling up in a situation like this.

A carriage of desire that made his heart pound like mad supplied blood throughout his body.

'The flow. If we can ride even the slightest flow.'

Marcus was not the type to calculate everything front and back and craft a strategy. He was a gambler.

His subordinates were the ones who used their heads.

"We must retreat. A single giant will consume at least a platoon or more of our troops."

"We have to acknowledge that the move the enemy prepared is deadly."

"We should regroup and face it with archers, not the Turtle Heavy Infantry—"

The words of the group of adjutants gathered to use their heads had not even ended.

"Left side of the battlefield! A Fairy and an assassin have appeared and are indiscriminately assassinating commanders!"

What the fuck?

"Right side of the battlefield! More than a squad of war mercenaries is rampaging. They are above special-grade!"

It was bullshit. A goddamn disaster.

Even so, Marcus's heart did not shrivel.

'I don't think it will end like this.'

Ignoring the eyes of the adjutant who wanted retreat, Marcus said nothing.

A change. Even a very small one would do.

If only the direction of the wind changed a little.

Marcus swallowed dryly and waited. If the wind of change did not blow like this?

'No, there is an opportunity.'

When people gathered, there were always exceptional ones. There had to be such people even within the infantry battalion.

He needed a small gesture that would break through and cross the compliant wave.

Marcus believed that such a moment would come.

"Captain!"

An adjutant shouted as though protesting. That was how urgent it was. In the middle of that, a messenger came running.

From far away, he announced the battlefield situation in a very loud voice.

It was the shout of a messenger whose neck veins stood out so much he looked as if he might collapse from yelling.

"Urgent report! Urgent report! The giant has been killed!"

Change. It was the change he had been waiting for, relying purely on instinct.

Who had done it did not matter.

"All forces, turn around!"

Marcus shouted. It was the moment the allied counterattack would begin.

He showed outstanding ability as a commander.

He was also a man with that level of skill.

At his shout, the Naurilia forces immediately became a running turtle.

It was a circular charge formation centered on the Turtle Heavy Infantry unit.

It was large-scale group warfare in which Marcus had confidence.

* * *

The giant's death was the beginning.

The winds of change that began everywhere were fierce. They were like the fierce typhoons that blew around the time summer passed into autumn.

"Advancceeee!"

Beside each Company Commander, the voice of a soldier who had become a messenger because of his loud voice rang out.

BWOOOOOOO!

It was the horn flute telling them to advance.

"Chaaaarge!"

"Waaaaaah!"

"Sweep them all away!"

"Die, you bastard fucks!"

Bell joined them as part of it too. When he saw the exploits of Rem, who had killed the giant, and of his ally who had withstood the giant's strength, his chest boiled.

It felt like a battlefield they would not lose.

THUD THUD THUD.

The infantry with spears rushed in first and stabbed the enemy like thorns.

SHUNK!

The pierced unit endured. Aspen's elite soldiers were solid. Shields and armor, and in return, they thrust out long spears.

"Open up!"

It was a shout that burst from behind the allied spearmen.

So? If you're solid, are you as solid as us?

Turtle Heavy Company.

The 1st Company of the Cyprus Division's 4th Regiment, 4th Battalion.

An elite force that was the pride of even the unit named after a knight.

Not a separate independent detached force, but the core strength of the unit.

They moved.

The tactic was simple, and the strategy encompassing it all was even simpler.

'Advance, smash, and break.'

The Turtle Heavy Company stepped forward not for defense, but for attack.

Their steps were slow, but heavy.

If the infantry at the front had been a spear, this time they were a mace.

A mace that crumpled and shattered shields and armor, at that.

The heavy armored unit's main equipment was originally long spears, but what was needed this time was a heavy forward charge.

They advanced after switching to blunt weapons, auxiliary equipment meant to break the enemy's shields and armor.

It was the charge of a unit wearing underclothes inside, gambesons over them, then chainmail over that, with iron gauntlets and greaves on their arms and legs.

When they advanced in a mass, it would not have been strange to mistake them for a mass of iron bearing down.

The ten heavy armored infantrymen at the front took the same movement at once.

Over their heads, they raised their weapons vertically.

Maces longer than ordinary maces cast shadows over the bloodstained ground.

"Son of a..."

Someone among the enemy soldiers muttered.

Soon, the ten heavy armored soldiers at the front swung their weapons down at once.

The maces that cut through the air struck the enemy soldiers' shields and armor and the awkwardly raised spear shafts.

BANG! CLANG! CRUNCH! CRACK!

Various noises burst out and mixed at once.

The attack from the first charge.

None among the enemy soldiers died. It was a fight of formation against formation.

They did not collapse in one blow, but the problem was what came next.

The formations of enemy and ally pressed close together.

Their boundaries collapsed and overlapped.

Like the sun and moon breaking down the border between each other before the morning sun rose.

So the soldiers of both armies fought to keep their own boundaries.

And the heavy armored infantry, fighting in place with their feet tied down, showed their power plainly.

CRACK!

With the second clubbing, things like bucklers broke, and wooden fragments scattered into the air.

The pupils of the Aspen soldier holding the broken shield trembled.

Beyond the shield, the mace came flying again and struck the top of his helmet.

THUD!

"Ghk!"

A leather helmet could not disperse the impact of a lump of iron.

The soldier's skull caved in from the blow, and he collapsed.

The feet of the heavy armored infantry passed over him.

CRUNCH, CRUNCH.

Bones broke, cheekbones caved in, and blood burst out. The body that could not withstand the weight lost its soul.

For the soldier pinned beneath the heavy armored soldier's feet, only death remained.

"Forward, one step!"

The heavy armored infantry Company Commander maintained the formation his unit was proud of.

In other words, it was an advance that slowly strangled the enemy one step at a time.

It was slow and sluggish to call it a rush or a charge.

But the opponent was in a situation where they could not retreat.

"Sweep them away."

The Company Commander was full of confidence. He had reason to be. The course of the battle had overturned in an instant.

If there had been a knight in this battle.

If it had begun with a duel between knights, it might have been a little different.

But the opponent had not chosen such a fight.

They had hidden their trump card, then pulled it out and stabbed with it.

But the allied blade was harder.

It was a hard blade they had not even expected, at that.

No matter how much of a lunatic Rem was, who would have known he would toy with a giant and kill it?

"Uoooooh!"

Someone's roar tore through the air and soared into the sky. All the soldiers were excited. Their eyes bloodshot, they stabbed with spears and swung swords.

There were even some who threw axes from time to time.

Around this point, Marcus's command of troops shone once more.

After striking the front with the heavy armored infantry and breaking the enemy army's formation.

"Shoot! Shoot! Shoot them all!"

One force detoured. A swift light armored archer unit, a Ranger unit carrying shortbows.

An excellent Ranger who had happened to join the unit led them.

She was a woman named Pin.

After hearing Marcus's order, she understood what he wanted.

Arrows flew. Not many people died to those arrows.

They merely shot arrows, then shot again.

They shot arrows without holding back.

"Surrender! Drop your weapons and put your heads on the ground! If you surrender, we won't kill you!"

They shouted it again and again. Several loud-voiced messengers repeated the same words and spread them across the battlefield.

In the broken state of the battle, those running along the outer edges were already those whose morale had broken and who were retreating.

The moment they met Pin, they all had to throw away their weapons and raise both hands.

"Don't kill them! Don't kill them!"

Pin deliberately kept the people who surrendered alive.

The effect was clear. Everyone was putting their heads to the ground one by one.

It was the moment the changed atmosphere of the battlefield shifted over completely.

After killing the giant, Rem dusted off his hands.

'I'll cool down at this rate.'

It had been fun exactly up to here. After this? It was time to pursue and massacre.

He did not feel much enthusiasm for it.

It was not some soft thought about avoiding a massacre.

This was already a fight they had won. Chasing them was just a pain.

He was watching to see if the enemy might have hidden another thing like the giant, but there was none.

He only sensed a stir from the command side.

Those bastards are all going to run soon.

'At least cast a Spell or something.'

There was no sign of that either.

The flow had passed over, and the battlefield was over.

That was Rem's judgment.

He turned around and looked for his Platoon Commander.

"What the fuck."

Where had this man gone? He had told him to watch properly from behind.

He had not even properly watched Rem fight the giant and had disappeared?

On top of that, he could not see anyone, including the alley cat?

Which meant he had gone with one of them?

'Huh?'

His mood was getting worse.

"Uwah! Long live the lunatic platoon!"

"Long live Rem!"

Thanks to his killing the giant, there were still people nearby raising Rem's name high.

Everyone who passed praised Rem.

The lunatic on their side had killed the enemy gone mad with slaughter, the giant.

Most of all, that last method.

After seeing the giant hammer the giant was swinging, he had kicked the giant's thigh and smashed the fingers of the giant gripping the weapon with his fist, breaking them.

After that, he launched himself into the air and spun.

As his head went toward the ground, Rem's foot lashed the giant's jaw.

It was a magnificent blow. After that, he picked up a spear rolling on the ground and made a work of art by piercing from the giant's shattered jaw to the back of its skull.

The collapsed giant looked like some sculpture.

And Rem standing before it looked like a hero from a story.

Giants often appeared as villains in novels, did they not?

So it was only natural that cheers kept bursting out.

"Shut up!"

Even though they were praising him, Rem barked angrily.

His voice was so loud that the mouths of those who had been praising Rem nearby snapped shut.

Only then did Rem's nickname rise in their minds like bright moonlight.

'Plain lunatic.'

A lunatic who threw a fit for no reason.

A lunatic who got angry for nothing and made a goddamn scene.

"Where'd our Platoon Commander go?"

Someone raised a hand and pointed to one side.

Over there stood Encrid, holding two axes.

He had been coming this way anyway. Rem, Ragna, and Encrid met each other.

"No, I told you to watch—"

"Picked them up on the way."

Encrid cut off Rem's words and threw the weapons.

The two axes cut through the air and entered Rem's hands.

Rem stretched both hands out and caught them with a tap-tap.

"Hm?"

The grip, the feeling of holding them, was quite good.

From what he felt after gripping them himself.

They were better than the ones he had been using before.

Weapons managed by hand, weapons that had tasted blood.

From their center of gravity to their axe blades.

They were weapons made with quality iron and properly maintained.

"You went to get these because my axes broke?"

Even if you went sideways, all that mattered was getting straight to the destination.

Because Encrid knew Rem.

"Yeah."

He agreed. He nodded.

In truth, he had lucked into them, but if this brought peace, then so be it.

A much softer aura flowed from Rem, who had been exuding an inexplicable killing intent.

The killing intent thinned.

"Did you watch what I told you to watch?"

"I did. The axes stopping the giant. Winning with strength too."

Rem looked at Encrid's eyes as he spoke.

The axes thrown like a joke were not important.

Inside his eyes, there was a blazing flame, that fire that could fairly be called desire and lust.

To learn, master, and move forward anew.

A wayfarer walking while spilling blood in search of what he called his dream was there.

That was enough.

That was exactly why Rem liked the human being called Encrid.

"Sounds good."

Rem smiled.

Encrid smiled too.

Their smiles were different, yet also similar.

Ragna, who was watching that from beside them, murmured.

"First, attach the sword to your body."

Behind that Ragna, Jaxon suddenly rose up. Jaxon had approached without sound or presence.

"When your senses ripen and your Sixth Sense opens, what comes next? Subdivision, training each one separately, and also how to react. There is a lot to do."

Encrid's gaze turned. He met Jaxon's eyes and asked with his own.

'What is all that?'

There was no answer.

"Next time."

This side seemed to be even more skilled at cutting things off than Ragna.

"You bastard? You're cutting in?"

Rem glared.

Before they could exchange sharp words, Audin returned too.

"Uwah! Our crazy giant is stronger!"

Now that was one hell of a cheer.

Yes, this one had returned as a crazy giant.

After dyeing his whole body in blood, smiling modestly.

Was it a talent to smile so purely while dripping blood from his sleeves, or was he just a lunatic?

"Do you know the core of Balaf style close-quarters combat?"

This one was similar too.

Encrid's gaze turned toward the lunatic giant.

Audin smiled with his eyes.

"Goddamn it, everyone's cutting in now?"

Rem got angry.

Everyone exuded killing intent at one another.

Encrid watched for a moment, then stopped them.

In the middle of the battlefield, regardless of how the battle was going, they were busy thinking about teaching Encrid.

And they, more than anyone, were the greatest contributors on this battlefield.

While stopping that group of meritorious lunatics, Encrid said.

"By the way, where are the rest?"

Now that he looked, Andrew and the others were nowhere to be seen.

"They got swept up and went forward."

It was Rem's answer.