Chapter 18 - You Lived?

When night fell, he tried to listen for the sound of the assassin approaching.

It was largely meaningless.

Because he never felt any sound or presence.

'Let's do it this way for a while.'

There was no need to agonize over it. Once the training method was decided, all he had to do was carry it out like an ox plowing a field.

Encrid did exactly that.

Before the poison dart flew, the assassin definitely entered the tent.

He just had to listen for that presence.

Every day, when he lay down and fell asleep, he greeted the same morning.

Even so, he didn't ignorantly repeat only his nighttime training.

It was best to do his utmost if he could.

During the day, he sought out Jaxon.

Today, the very day after learning the auditory training.

Encrid had to wait modestly in front of the tent.

It was because he had arrived far earlier than usual.

He could hear whispering from inside, so he didn't get any closer.

He didn't know what sweet nothings they were whispering, but there was no need to deliberately listen in.

After waiting, he met with Jaxon.

"Let's walk together for a bit."

And so they talked as they walked. The same questions, the same attitude.

Even though he heard the same words every time, Encrid unconsciously displayed the attentive attitude Krang had shown.

Listening well was deeply connected to learning well.

Because one had to first listen well and understand for there to be a next step.

Even if he hadn't realized it, he instinctively knew that listening was important, so Encrid listened well.

In that regard, an attitude of attentive listening was an exceptionally excellent tool.

Jaxon repeated the same words every time.

And Encrid sometimes had to imitate a genius.

"Having eyes in the back of your head means listening, right? You mean I just have to listen with my ears?"

"... You don't even really need an explanation."

"So sound has direction too. Since you can distinguish front and back, left and right. Through the incoming sound and its intensity, right?"

"Were you a genius?"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. You are more astute than I thought."

"Why, did I look like an idiot to you?"

"That's not it."

And he dies again. The repeated today once more.

He started the day with Platoon Commander Vengeance's complaints.

"Ah, are you not giving me breakfast? Where did this bastard slack off to?"

"Yes, it's natural to get annoyed when you're hungry."

"What?"

"I'm going to get breakfast so our Platoon Commander stops whining."

"... Are you crazy?"

Not exactly.

Since whatever he said held no great meaning, he tried starting the day by teasing him.

He took in the sight of those passing by around him.

He used some of those passing events as markers to spend the repeating today slightly differently.

After getting through the morning half-jokingly, Encrid repeated the day.

Five times, ten times.

As he kept repeating it, dragging Jaxon out of the tent became familiar too.

He was a bit awkward at first, but after accidentally overhearing their sweet nothings, he had no hesitation.

Talks about what felt good today.

What felt good last time.

And what positions they preferred.

In the repeated today, Encrid threw open the tent without hesitation.

"Jaxon, you have time, right?"

"... What is it?"

"If you're going to do more, I'll step aside."

"You're killing the mood even if I wanted to."

"Then come out."

The woman beside him shot him an absurd glare that screamed, *'What the hell is this bastard?' *

He was embarrassed at first, but as he got used to it, he became shameless.

Meaning, he just ignored it.

Above all, even when he did this, Jaxon didn't express any particular dissatisfaction.

He was merely curious as to why Encrid was acting this way.

He also resolved that curiosity in the same way every time.

"Are you curious about that?"

"No. Never mind."

It was the same for his training. When he became somewhat accustomed to listening to sounds, Jaxon expressed his doubts.

"... Have you ever learned this sort of thing?"

"A little bit from my grandfather when I was young."

Encrid was a war orphan.

Let alone a grandfather, he didn't even know his parents.

"I see."

Jaxon just let it slide despite such a flimsy excuse.

Encrid always spent the day valuably.

If his task when training the stab was moving his body, this time his task was sitting perfectly still.

There were results.

Encrid took slow but steady steps forward.

'Let's do as I learned.'

If he couldn't take a full step, he would take a half step.

If a half step was impossible, then a quarter step.

If even that wasn't allowed, he would start by wiggling his toes.

By the time he had repeated the same today about twenty times.

'I hear it.'

He heard the sound of the wind slapping the flags.

CREAK!

He heard the grating sound coming from the wagon wheels.

It sounded like a clockwork with broken, grinding gears.

'It's the sound of something breaking.'

There were types of sounds too.

Some sounds conveyed information as if speaking.

For example, the sound heard through a flag was like that.

"Finding out that it's a west wind is easy. You check the direction I'm sitting now, locate north, and then follow the direction of the sound of the flapping flag."

Easier said than done. There was probably no one who could do this on their first try.

Repetition after repetition.

Just as he always had, an unchanging mindset even though he was living by splitting day after day.

Everything created a synergy effect.

'Following the sound of the flapping flags.'

Based on the position where he was sitting.

He could figure out the direction of the wind. It wasn't exactly something that would be universally useful in daily life or on the battlefield.

Because he could tell the wind's direction just from where he sat anyway.

However, the significance lay in figuring it out purely through sound.

He distinguished the medics' voices.

He estimated the volume to gauge the distance.

'If I master it properly, it'll be useful on the battlefield too.'

Come to think of it, Jaxon had always stayed one step ahead and avoided dangerous battlefields.

Did he listen, judge, and move in advance?

Was that even possible?

He wouldn't know for now.

Distinguishing sounds was the first part of this training.

The second was measuring distances just by listening.

Encrid had just about finished these two things.

The third stage was isolating and listening to tiny, subtle sounds.

Hadn't it been said that the best training was listening for an assassin's presence?

'It's funny, but...'

It was the perfect environment.

Dying without even knowing what happened was truly much more unpleasant than he had thought.

The situation itself, going down instantly without any resistance, was the worst.

Still.

'Isn't this an opportunity?'

That thought came to him naturally.

He didn't get up from his bed. Whenever he got involved with the freckled night watchman for no reason, the guy died every time.

There was no need to do that.

He laid there, closed his eyes, and focused.

First, he started with listening.

He could think about what came next later.

During the day, he listened to the sounds of wagons rolling, the sound of broken wooden pegs rattling, and conversely, the sound of perfectly fine wagons.

He distinguished between flags flapping in the wind, tents, and people's voices.

Repeating the same thing could be arduous and agonizing for someone else.

'It's fun.'

But it was different for Encrid.

For him, even minor growth was a joy.

He wasn't rolling his body around like when he learned the Heart of a Beast.

But the mental drain was extreme.

When he focused too intensely, he would get headaches that felt like his skull was splitting open.

But after repeating even that about thirty times, he quickly grew accustomed to it.

It was a small amount, but he was living a today that was different from yesterday.

That fact pleased Encrid to the point of a shudder.

And so, on the fifty-sixth night.

SWISH.

The sound of torches burning on their stands.

The sound of the night watchman dozing off, then startling awake and striking the ground with his spear shaft.

The sound of the freckled night watchman of the Medical Barracks occasionally lifting the tent flap.

Through all those sounds, a tiny, subtle noise dug into his ears.

A *whoosh* of air escaping.

'I heard it.'

It was distinctly different from usual. Encrid's ears had distinguished the faint difference.

The moment he heard it, Encrid rolled sideways without hesitation.

'I dodged it.'

His initial plan had been to shout after dodging.

Encrid couldn't do that.

SWOOSH.

He heard the sound of air being sliced behind his back.

He didn't even have time to pull out the dagger hidden in his clothes.

He rolled forward again.

SWISH, SLICE, WHOOSH.

Indescribable, tiny noises continued to ring out.

By distinguishing the directions through sound, Encrid barely, ever so narrowly, evaded the attacks.

The tip of the blade even grazed the vicinity of his thigh.

'I was lucky there.'

One wrong move and his thigh would have been sliced. It was an opponent where even a mere scratch was dangerous.

Would a guy who uses poison darts have left his blade unpoisoned?

He repeatedly rolled and vaulted his body to dodge.

The Heart of a Beast shined.

Even as the dangerous moments continued in succession.

His heart sank coldly.

There was no need to get excited.

If it was just listening to the sound and dodging.

'It's fine. It's manageable.'

He could dodge if he gave up on counterattacking.

The blade slashed down in a long, vertical line, aiming for his back.

The opponent's intention was clear.

He just wanted to land a scratch.

Encrid rolled toward Vengeance's bed, who showed no signs of waking from dreamland despite the commotion.

As he rolled, he shoved the bed with his shoulder.

THUD.

A heavy impact returned to his shoulder muscles.

Even though he endured the pain and rammed into it with all his might, Platoon Commander Vengeance did not wake up.

'Poison dart.'

He wouldn't wake up. He suspected it was a poison related to paralysis or sleep.

"Vicious bastard."

Perhaps in quite a rush this time, the assassin muttered and even the *thud* of him kicking off the ground could be heard.

Encrid's breath caught in his throat, and he gasped for air.

Sensing his opponent panting, the assassin lunged with the knife in his right hand and threw a poison dart with his left.

It was close to a surefire killing blow.

Regardless of his heavy breathing, Encrid reacted swiftly.

He dodged the knife and blocked the poison dart by lifting Platoon Commander Vengeance's arm as a shield.

*THWIP. * The poison dart stuck into Vengeance's forearm.

While the assassin faltered after seeing it blocked, Encrid rolled straight toward the tent entrance.

Looking out of breath had been a feint.

'This is the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, False Breath.'

It was a trick that offered a chance to end the fight easily, only to exploit the opening when the enemy reacted to it.

It was a move that worked beautifully.

Using his momentum from rolling, Encrid half-rose and acted as if he were going to bolt out of the tent.

The assassin threw himself forward with a *whoosh*.

That too was a feint.

Encrid headed for the wall instead of the entrance. Pulling the dagger from his chest, he tried to slash the tent wall.

A fight he would win if he ripped it open and dashed out—or so he thought.

RIIIP!

The tent wall ripped open before he could even reach it.

Beyond the severed tent wall.

"I'm a bit late."

Along with the voice, glowing green eyes came into view.

It was the Fairy Company Commander. The main culprit of the assassination.

He reflexively attempted a stab.

Though he held a dagger, it was a technique repeated countless times, deeply ingrained in his body.

Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted his body and stabbed toward the opponent in one breath.

His right arm shot out like a javelin.

The Fairy Company Commander stepped inside with gleaming eyes, then swung her right hand outward from within.

SMACK, SWOOSH.

That simple hand gesture deflected the trajectory of the stab. At the same time, the Company Commander kicked Encrid's pivot foot.

The world spun, and Encrid promptly rolled on the ground.

After that, the Fairy Company Commander displayed an incomprehensible movement.

TAT-TAT-TAT.

She ignored Encrid, pulled her cape, and fluttered it to block the front.

With a *thud-thud-thud*, something lodged into the cape.

They were poison darts.

"Are you alright?"

As he watched in a daze, he saw Krang lying flat on the ground outside the tent.

"You had an escort?"

The assassin's voice was clearly shaken.

"Assassination work... It makes me want to vomit."

The Fairy Company Commander said as she let her cape drop.

Encrid's mind was busy trying to understand the situation.

'She wasn't the assassin?'

Was she on the side protecting him?

Then what he saw when he died wasn't the person who killed him, but just her arriving late?

"You don't seem hurt, though?"

"Just startled."

Encrid answered Krang's question and turned his body.

The assassin's center of gravity was already leaning backward, as if he had been plotting to flee the moment he saw the Fairy Company Commander.

The Company Commander didn't seem to have any intention of catching him either.

Soon, the assassin stealthily backed away, then kicked off the tent entrance and fled.

Even as he ran, his footsteps made almost no sound.

"Well, this is..."

Krang smiled sheepishly as he entered the tent.

The Company Commander walked up to the front of the tent, grabbed the shoulder of the seemingly unconscious freckled soldier, dragged him by the feet, and tossed him inside the tent.

Then she glanced at Platoon Commander Vengeance before turning around.

Her green eyes looked at Encrid.

A brief silence.

A moment later, the Company Commander tilted her head and opened her mouth.

"You lived?"

That question was mixed with surprise.