Chapter 40 - Flags Flutter and Soldiers Dance with Swords (3)

Every day, after learning Concentrate on a Single Point from Ragna, he charged into real battle.

That was the today Encrid repeated.

Countless repetitions.

Even as he died again and again, the technique called Concentrate on a Single Point seemed just within reach, yet never quite came to him.

'Don't get impatient.'

Encrid changed his thinking. For now, he would try breaking the flagpoles first.

When the battle began again.

Encrid considered how he could minimize the damage.

Thinking and puzzling things out was one of his specialties.

The fog rose again. It was the fog of death. That was why the name of this sorcery was the Fog of Massacre.

Of course, Encrid did not know the name of the sorcery.

He only understood that he could not simply let himself be taken down like this.

Before the fog settled in and before Rem could shout anything, Encrid spoke first.

"Everyone, get down!"

They were already bewildered. At someone's shout, even the Platoon Commander lowered his head.

"Shields!"

When Encrid shouted again, their allies reflexively raised their shields. His left hand felt empty, so Encrid had brought a shield as well.

He ran in a low posture with the shield held at an angle, and a few quarrels and arrows struck into it with a rapid clatter.

The oil-soaked shield faithfully did its job.

'I should have brought a shield ages ago.'

There had been times when he started the fight after taking a quarrel or arrow while sprinting through here.

Thanks to that, he had also grown familiar with routes for approaching while dodging.

Thinking that, he charged forward. From all his experience so far, he knew it. To escape the effects of the fog, he had to stick close to the enemy.

That was what Encrid did.

As he ran, Encrid suddenly kicked off the ground and threw himself to the left.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

Spearheads swept through the spot where Encrid had been. It was a pattern he had already memorized.

He could not deliberately create a crisis of death and then bring out Concentrate on a Single Point.

He had to struggle desperately.

Encrid decided to do just that. After dodging the spears, he ran again and closed right up to the enemy soldiers.

Only then did he see the enemy beyond the fog. Inside a round-topped leather helmet, a terribly flustered face appeared.

Encrid kicked the startled enemy soldier in the ankle.

"Huh!"

The man lost his balance and fell, and Encrid slammed the edge of his shield into his head.

CRACK!

It sounded like wood splitting. If the man survived that, that would be luck too.

Passing by the fallen man, he drew his longsword.

As he drew it and swung it wide at the same time, three or four enemy soldiers who had been trying to close in flinched in confusion. Watching that, Encrid drew a route in his head.

The todays he had repeated already numbered nearly three hundred.

He could know the path with his eyes closed.

The locations of the flagpoles, and the enemy soldiers' deployment too.

From the enemy soldiers' perspective, Encrid's movements must have seemed ghostlike.

* * *

Ron, a soldier of the Principality of Aspen, was bewildered by the movements of the Naurilia soldier who had started running as soon as the fog rose.

The man suddenly popped out from the left, cut down three or four of their allies, then abruptly vanished. That was truly how it looked. It seemed as though he had suddenly disappeared.

In reality, he had only lowered his posture all at once.

"Guh!"

"Below! He's below!"

Ron knew that the fog surrounding him had been made by sorcery or magic. That was why this fog did not block their allies' sight. But the parts where the fog gathered thickly did interfere with vision.

Places like underfoot, for instance.

In other words, everything above the chest was visible, but the ground was hard to see. The enemy acted as though he knew that.

"Kill him!"

"This fucker!"

Commotion erupted everywhere. The enemy soldier moved as though he had ten bodies.

Ron tensed. If the man appeared anywhere nearby, he planned to smash his head in at once.

Tension hung in the air.

"Ghk!"

"Ugh!"

"Here!"

The bastard still roamed through the fog spread across the ground as though it were his own home.

Ron swallowed hard. It felt as if a blade might fly right in front of his nose at any moment. He needed to piss. And yet the enemy did not appear for quite some time. Just as the tension reached its peak.

"The flagpole—gack!"

A scream burst out from behind him. It was the Platoon Commander's voice. Ron whipped his head around.

He saw the Platoon Commander pitching forward, and beside him, the enemy soldier rising to his feet.

The sight of him pushing up through the fog spread over the ground was like a skeleton soldier rising from a grave.

'He was alone?'

One man had pushed through the fog and caused all this havoc?

The bastard gripped his sword in both hands and struck the flagpole.

CRACK!

With one heavy blow, the middle of the flagpole broke. The flag tilted sideways and fell.

The flag that had been fluttering in the wind just moments ago lost both sound and motion.

THUD.

The fallen flag kicked up dust.

Through that dust, it looked as though the enemy soldier tilted his head.

That was how it looked to Ron's eyes. Then the enemy soldier moved again.

"Kill him, I said kill him!"

Someone grabbed the enemy soldier's trouser leg as he died. It was admirable. An act befitting an elite soldier of Aspen, disregarding his own life.

Their allies swarmed over him like bees.

With two spears lodged in his left side and five quarrels stuck in his thigh, the enemy soldier bled heavily as he asked,

"Why isn't the fog clearing? It is the medium for the sorcery."

In place of the dead Platoon Commander, the Squad Leader snorted.

"You idiot, why do you think there are six flagpoles?"

The Squad Leader did not hold back his words. The man was about to die anyway. Knowing this would change nothing.

"Five of them were decoys, and only one was real."

"Crazy bastard."

"Why is Concentrate on a Single Point so hard? Then again, nothing has been easy so far."

"What are you talking about?"

"Whew, focus, focus, focus."

"Insane son of a bitch."

CRACK!

The enemy soldier asked, heard the answer, then kept muttering to himself, and Ron, who was watching him, could not hold back and swung his spear shaft.

The man's head burst open and blood sprayed.

The man who had been hit twitched his limbs on the ground and gushed blood.

"Gurgle."

Ron turned away from the man foaming blood at the mouth.

Because of this one man, one flag unit had failed to carry out its duty, but the overall battle had already tipped.

It was a great victory for the Principality of Aspen. So long as this fog remained, they could not lose.

* * *

The pain of approaching death filled his entire body. Encrid sank into thought to forget the pain.

'How did I learn Heart of a Beast again?'

Sense of the Blade had owed much to the assassin's help. Heart of a Beast had come with the help of rolling around on the battlefield until just before death.

But Concentrate on a Single Point did not come easily.

Was the boldness granted by Heart of a Beast getting in the way? That did not seem to be it.

If he had been able to do it easily after only a few tries, just as he wanted, Encrid would have been a person of outstanding talent.

It would have been natural to feel stifled, but Encrid was as composed as ever. He was not anxious.

Because there was no need to be.

'If I can't do it, I'll do it until I can.'

Because his heart was firm and solid, he did not know despair or frustration.

Death came again, and he opened his eyes in the morning. He entrusted his body to the sunlight and wind, and steadied his heart.

"It's called Concentrate on a Single Point. Will you learn it?"

Ragna kept teaching as if walking a fixed path, and Encrid nodded.

Even after learning and learning again, he did not understand.

Northern Heavy Sword, or rather, while polishing the basics of the Heavy Sword through Ragna this time, there was something he had learned. A small realization.

Whatever it was, when learning something for the first time, one had to learn it properly.

'Fear of death sharpens the nerves?'

No matter how many times he tried, it felt like clothing that did not fit his body, so he asked.

"How did you learn it?"

"For me, it just happened."

Ragna said it kindly.

That made him look even more hateful. Why was he being kind now?

It seemed like it had been better when he was spitting out harsh criticism instead.

"Just happened?"

"Yes. I forgot my surroundings, focused, and quickly became one with the sword."

It was not a boastful tone. His voice was calm.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it was."

What was nothing special to Ragna was like an unreachable star to Encrid.

Even so, jealousy or envy did not well up in him. If his heart were going to crumble over something like this, he would never have dreamed of becoming a knight.

He repeated the same thing over and over. Ragna told him to feel the fear of death and stopped the sword before his eyes.

In terms of speed alone, he seemed faster than Rem.

When the two of them fought, Rem had looked faster.

The spar between the two still remained vividly in Encrid's mind.

Yet now that he was facing him himself, Ragna seemed faster.

"What're you doing? They're calling us to gather. And what are you doing? Using the Squad Leader as a straw dummy for practice? You must have been pretty upset about getting beaten by me before."

"Who got beaten? Your skull?"

Why did these two fight every time they met?

"Let's go."

It was the battlefield again. Encrid had learned much through death. One of those things was that five of the six flagpoles were false.

'So I have to guess well.'

It was time to test his luck. This time, before the fog even rose, he charged first toward the enemy forces that had drawn near.

"... Squad Leader?"

Ragna's bewildered question came from behind him. No matter who saw it, it must have looked absurd.

"The Squad Leader's gone crazy!"

Rem shouted too. The others were probably whispering about why he was doing that and whether he had lost his mind.

At that timing, the fog swept over them.

"Huh!"

"I can't see!"

Encrid shouted as he ran.

"Get dooown! Shields!"

Since he had done it before, he thought they would follow his words exactly, but the result was different from before.

Their allies reacted late.

Arrows and quarrels flew in and tore through their allies. Until the enemy troops with short spears approached and stabbed, the allied unit was in a state of panic.

'Why?'

The timing was the problem. He had to give them time to catch their breath after they were startled. It was a mistake he made because he already knew.

It was fine. He just had to do better next time.

Others said that the goddess of luck had kissed him, that she had handed him a whole sack of coins, but.

Encrid knew himself well.

He was not particularly lucky.

It was the second flagpole he chose.

A fierce battle like before was needed.

Concentrate on a Single Point still had not settled into his body, but.

As real battle was added to his newly built fundamentals, it seemed his skill had improved by leaps and bounds.

'I still have far to go, though.'

Encrid's standards were Rem and Ragna. It took three todays to break the second flagpole.

When he broke that flagpole, the Platoon Commander bastard with a dagger stuck in his stomach vomited blood and cackled mockingly.

"It's a decoy!"

"I know."

Encrid nodded with two arrows stuck in his thigh.

"... What?"

"Four left."

"What did you say?"

"Focus, focus."

Was he failing because he lacked concentration?

Concentrate on a Single Point was difficult.

Ignoring the enemy Platoon Commander chattering beside him, Encrid exerted his focus.

He boldly struck aside and received the enemy's spears as he swung his sword.

The upward slash that had become several times more familiar than before split the enemy's jaw.

With a ripping crack, the man's face split vertically from mouth to nose.

A quarrel flew from the side.

It struck into his side with a heavy thud. Thanks to his armor, he did not die, but there were five soldiers with crossbows in a place he had failed to see.

The number of enemy soldiers near the flagpole was roughly eighty.

It was not a number he could handle alone.

'I need to attack the flagpole while keeping an escape route in mind too.'

He thought over and over and puzzled it out. For Concentrate on a Single Point, and to break the flagpole, he passed beyond death.

The third flagpole took five todays.

The fourth flagpole took seven todays.

'If I were the enemy commander.'

He would hide the flagpole in the safest place.

Before the fog rose, he spent two todays staring at the enemy formation.

Only then did he see it.

One flag unit wrapped by the enemy.

It was at the innermost part.

Without making a mistake, Encrid gave a warning shout to his allies and ran.

Everyone got down properly and raised their shields properly too.

"Rem, follow me!"

After that, he took Rem along.

"The caster... what?"

"I said follow me!"

He shouted and sprinted. Rem followed behind him.

"What kind of crazy shit are you trying to do?"

Instead of answering, Encrid charged together with Rem toward the flag unit blocking their way.

"With only two of you!"

An enemy soldier spat rage. Watching that, Encrid deftly shifted away. He lowered his posture, hid his body in the fog, and shoved the enemy soldiers onto Rem.

"Sorcery. Whose doing is this?"

Rem spoke in a voice that called to mind cold flame, and swung his axe.

When Encrid looked back, he could not even see the axe properly, but he saw an enemy soldier's head fly off with a dull thump.

Blood spurted like a fountain from the severed neck, and the body soon toppled sideways with a wet gurgle.

"I'll get the answer from the next one."

Rem went berserk.

Watching that, Encrid drew the enemy's movements in his head.

It took five todays to encounter the innermost flag unit.

Only after struggling five times could he burrow into that unit.

Encrid used his head. He did not charge from the front, but cut in from the side. He lowered his posture and watched for an opening.

He crept toward the flagpole.

Then someone blocked his way.

"Am I dreaming?"

The man blocking his path spoke.

What was with this bastard?

"By the grace of God, my wish has been granted. I wanted to kill you with my own hands."

Encrid tilted his head as he looked at the opponent blocking him.

He did not remember who he was.

"... You forgot me in just a few days?"

For the other man, it had been a few days, but thanks to the repeated todays, Encrid had spent a year on this battlefield alone.

"Sorry. Please introduce yourself."

Encrid spoke politely, and veins bulged on the other man's forehead.

"Mitch Hurrier, Platoon Commander of the Principality of Aspen."

Even after hearing the name, Encrid could not remember him at all.

"I see."

When he nodded, Mitch glared.

"You son of a bitch."

He drew his sword in a state of extreme agitation. Seeing him draw and point his sword with a ring of steel, Encrid felt as if he might remember.

'Where did I see him?'

"Wait."

Encrid raised a hand to stop his opponent. Mitch asked with the tip of his sword pointed at him.

"What?"

"I really don't remember. Who are you?"

"You'll remember once you've been stabbed!"

The bastard charged. Encrid drew his longsword to meet him.

CLANG, CLAAANG!

Sword met sword, metal met metal, and they rang out in resonance.

The two pressed their swords together, then parted, and Mitch was inwardly surprised.

'This bastard?'

His skill had improved sharply.