Chapter 45 - Countless Real Battles (1)

"Bring it on!"

Platoon Commander Vengeance shouted and swung his sword down. The mustached man held his sword parallel to the ground and slashed at the midsection.

Platoon Commander Vengeance's sword met the mustached man's sword.

CLANG!

The moment their swords clashed, the mustached man stepped forward and put his weight into it to push his opponent away.

Vengeance had only focused on swinging his sword, so he was helplessly bounced back.

"Ugh!"

Having lost his balance, he didn't just get pushed back, but rolled backward head over heels. A cloud of dust rose where he rolled.

With his head tucked between his legs, Vengeance's body came to a stop right next to Encrid.

Platoon Commander Vengeance and Encrid locked eyes.

A brief silence lingered between the two.

A cold wind blew in from somewhere with a *whoosh*.

Vengeance's face turned beet red.

Encrid carefully chose his words and spoke.

"... I thought you said you came to save me."

Vengeance's pupils shook violently.

"Why the hell is that bastard so strong?"

Encrid let out a dejected laugh.

Seriously, he said he came to save him, so why did he get knocked away in a single hit?

Platoon Commander Vengeance rolled once more to stand up, grabbed his fallen sword from the ground, and took his stance again.

"Shit, this bastard."

He glared at the opponent and shouted.

"Shoot!"

Half of Vengeance's platoon was made up of archers.

"Shoot at will!"

At his command, arrows flew in.

"Block them!"

"Raise your shields!"

A few enemy soldiers who had been closely following behind the mustached man sprang forward and thrust out their shields.

THWACK-THWACK!

The arrows were blocked by the shields.

It was unbelievable timing.

Poking his head out over the shields, the mustached man glared at Encrid with terrifying eyes.

Then, he snatched a shield from one of his subordinates.

'What a crazy bastard.'

Encrid clenched his jaw and jumped to his feet. A burning pain shot from his back and the leg where the quarrels were lodged.

There wasn't even time to let out a groan.

GRRR.

The panther beside him bared its fangs.

In that time, the shield held by the mustached man drew suddenly closer.

"You crazy bastard!"

Vengeance shouted in surprise. Enduring the pain, Encrid drew the shortsword sheathed at Vengeance's waist.

SHING.

Meanwhile, the mustached man had closed in right under his nose. He didn't dare to jump back.

SWOOSH.

Vengeance struck out with his sword, creating a diagonal line with the opponent's blade. He intended to stop the charge with brute force.

The mustached man pretended to clash swords, then flicked his wrist to pull his sword back, parrying Vengeance's blade and letting it slide past.

SWISH.

Vengeance's sword sliced through empty air. Following that, the panther kicked off the ground with a powerful spring. But the mustached man was different from an ordinary soldier.

Lowering his shield at an angle, he blocked the path of the lunging panther and swatted it outward.

"YELP!"

Letting out a cry, the panther was sent flying to the side. All these movements happened within just a few seconds after he charged.

Gripping the shortsword, Encrid pushed his concentration to the limit. Soon, only his opponent and himself remained in his mind's eye.

It was Concentrate on a Single Point.

The injury, the relief, and the shift in emotions drew out a high level of concentration.

For a moment, he felt the illusion that time had slowed down.

Encrid could see the bloodshot eyes of the mustached man. At the same time, he could also see the opponent's hands.

The mustached man gripped the end of the hilt, right above the pommel. He intended to lengthen his reach and cut him down in a single stroke.

In that state, he drew an arc with his sword. From top to bottom.

Without even realizing when the blade had been raised, the sword came crashing down. The blade struck in. It was like the blade of a guillotine.

It felt as if the mustached man's blade was telling him that this was enough, that he should go back and repeat today again.

Encrid hated that.

He swallowed his breath. There was no time to exhale. There was even less time to whine about the pain.

What he had learned was heavy swordsmanship, but right now, he couldn't break through with the fundamentals he had learned from Ragna.

If so.

Out of the dozens of sword techniques he had learned, practiced, watched, and copied, which one could he use right now?

Because he had studied and researched them after suffering countless defeats.

Because he had always maintained an attitude of watching and learning.

His body raised the sword on instinct. A shortsword was weak to impacts. If he tried to block with force, the sword itself would shatter.

The mustached man was certain of his victory.

He believed he would be able to claim the life of the aggravating bastard right in front of him.

SWOOSH. CLINK, SCREEECH. SLASH!

To get straight to the conclusion, the mustached man's strike failed.

It only managed to cut Encrid's shoulder.

It was a deep cut that sent blood gushing out, but he didn't die. He failed to kill him.

"You."

Instead of attacking again, the mustached man's eyes went wide as saucers in shock.

His eyes were filled with utter disbelief.

"Where did you learn that!"

The mustached man shouted. Encrid answered honestly.

"I learned it while fighting."

Mitch Hurrier had demonstrated the Flowing Sword, the technique of parrying and redirecting, countless times in front of Encrid.

His redirecting technique was truly a masterpiece.

That very technique had burst out unconsciously in a moment of danger.

The moment the mustached man's sword came crashing down, he received it with the shortsword and redirected it to the side, dispersing the force.

He thrust out the middle of the blade to absorb the impact, then loosened his grip to let it slide off.

If the distribution of power or the timing had been even slightly off, this wouldn't have been possible. It wouldn't have ended with just a slashed shoulder.

Encrid, despite his answer, was inwardly surprised himself.

'It actually worked.'

He had watched it, suffered from it, and studied it countless times, but this was his first time actually using it.

No, a technique he used for the first time without any grueling training had succeeded.

It was quite an amazing feat.

For someone as agonizingly untalented as Encrid, it was also something that made absolutely no sense.

Experiencing this for the first time made Encrid's heart race. The Flowing Sword Technique of redirecting an opponent's blade was a skill that couldn't even be imitated without a decent amount of training.

"You bastard!"

From behind the mustached man, Vengeance, who had swung his sword through empty air, spun around and charged with a shout.

The mustached man turned his body to bat away Vengeance's sword and covered his front with his shield once more.

THWACK!

An arrow lodged itself into the shield.

A skilled archer had taken aim and fired at him, but he had blocked it.

CLANG! CLANG!

Standing his ground, the mustached man exchanged a few more blows with Vengeance.

He glared at Encrid with eyes ablaze with fury.

Encrid was merely staring at the shortsword in his own hand.

It was already too late to charge back in and finish the kill.

In fact, if they got tied down here, they would all end up dead, so the mustached man turned away.

"Retreat!"

He shouted and fell back. As he retreated, he left Encrid with a final word.

"You, I won't forget you."

Encrid replied in all sincerity.

"You can forget me."

He meant it. What good would it do for him to be remembered anyway?

Vengeance's platoon didn't pursue them any further. Even if they were the vanguard, they had pushed far ahead of their allies by now.

If they pushed in any deeper, Vengeance's platoon could be wiped out by a counterattack.

"Hey, your shoulder!"

Vengeance glared at the mustached man until he retreated, then came back and checked on Encrid.

Blood was continuously streaming down his shoulder.

He had blocked and redirected the blow, but it couldn't be perfect.

Still, Encrid smiled.

'It actually worked.'

Inwardly, he repeated the exact same words he had muttered when the technique succeeded earlier.

He tried to retrace how he had redirected his opponent's sword, but he couldn't even remember it clearly. His body had moved on its own.

A sense of euphoria washed over him. Because it was the first time this had ever happened.

"Hey, you crazy bastard, is this the time to smile?"

Vengeance walked over and wrapped his shoulder tightly with cloth.

"We're out of bandages! We're falling back right now. Behind the 3rd Platoon!"

Vengeance pulled his platoon back. It was already a won battle. The Company Commander had told them to chase the enemy's rear, but not to go too deep.

Having been severely burned by the sorcery once, their side needed time to regroup as well.

"You've lost too much blood."

Vengeance said as he supported him. Encrid looked at Vengeance holding him up and spoke.

"We have to take the panther, too."

They had saved each other's lives. He couldn't just abandon it now.

"You crazy son of a bitch, worry about your own body."

Even while saying that, Vengeance made sure to grab the knocked-out panther.

He checked to see where it was hurt and noticed blood seeping from between the panther's teeth.

'I was wondering what that wet stuff dripping down my back was.'

It had held onto him without letting go, even while its gums were bleeding. Encrid pulled the panther into his arms.

It wasn't heavy. How did it manage to produce such strength with a body like this?

WHINE.

The panther let out a whimper in his arms.

"Let's go!"

Following that, Vengeance supported Encrid and they retreated from the battlefield.

Halfway through, Encrid fell into a semi-conscious state. It was because he had lost too much blood.

The Boatswain of the black river appeared in the empty air and asked.

"Hey, why are you going this far?"

Extreme blood loss was making him hallucinate.

Without the strength to answer, he simply stared blankly, and the entity continued to speak.

"You can just start over, you know."

"It repeats. Countless times, over and over."

"Why go to such lengths?"

"Today is going to start over anyway, so what does it matter if you just half-ass it."

"Settle down, stop, hone your skills, and face today once more. If you die, you can start a more perfect today, can't you?"

"Ah, is it because of the fear of death? Nah, you get used to it after a while. So what if you lose your mind a little—who's watching? Who's gonna know? That today is a today meant entirely for you."

Encrid didn't have the energy to open his mouth. He couldn't even walk properly anymore and was half being dragged along.

So he answered inwardly.

Why should I settle?

Just because it repeats, just because there's another chance, why shouldn't I do my best today?

If I did that, even if I repeated it countless times, I would just be stuck in the exact same place.

If I lived like that, I would be trapped in today.

Then there would be no tomorrow.

Without a tomorrow, there are no dreams. And without dreams, everything is meaningless.

'I don't want to stop.'

Even if my struggling steps cover only a quarter of the distance of anyone else's.

I want to move forward. That is how I wanted to live.

Even if I can never become a knight, I wanted to fight tooth and nail to become one.

THUD.

Having gone limp from lacking the strength to walk, his foot caught on a jagged rock.

"Don't die."

Vengeance muttered right next to his ear. His vision was blurry. He couldn't see properly in front of him.

At some point, the Boatswain of the black river had vanished.

Encrid felt like he finally understood just what kind of curse this really was.

"If I just start over, I think I could do better, couldn't I?"

Repeating today made it inevitable for such thoughts to cross his mind.

But Encrid was different.

He always wanted to walk toward tomorrow.

He instinctively knew that a failed tomorrow was better than a perfect today.

'If I settle, it's over.'

That was why this was a curse, not a blessing. If you endlessly repeat today, you can never greet the next day.

At the end of his thoughts, Encrid asked himself.

'So, was this the best I could do?'

He didn't know. Only God would know what a perfect today actually looked like.

The 'today' that Encrid had spent was a today that also involved a fair bit of luck.

There was no guarantee that such luck would find him again in a restarted today.

If so, then he only needed to keep walking toward tomorrow, just as he always had.

He felt a warm body heat in his arms.

Looking down with blurry eyes, he saw the black panther gazing up at him.

Its lake-like blue eyes came into view.

And then, Encrid lost consciousness.

He thought he might die.

Then, he would just repeat today again.

He wouldn't despair just because he couldn't reach tomorrow.

Because he would simply repeat it, and struggle to survive all over again.

Darkness descended and enveloped Encrid. Like a wanderer invited into a world of shadows, his mind went blank.

* * *

"Did I pick wrong?"

The Boatswain of the black river came into view.

Encrid heard his soliloquy.

He turned his head.

His face was still nothing but a smooth, featureless black mirror.

"Let's wait and see."

With that single remark, he regained his senses. Opening his eyes, he saw the ceiling of the barracks.

"Woah, you're alive? I really thought you were gonna bite the dust this time."

He heard Rem's voice.

His shoulder, back, leg, side—there wasn't a single spot on his body that didn't hurt.

His head was also spinning.

"Getting your shoulder sliced at the end was the big one. Don't know what kind of bastard did it, but they gave you a real nasty cut."

Rem continued to babble. Having returned from being half out of his mind, Encrid blinked a few times.

Then, quickly realizing he felt warmth at his side, he lowered his hand.

A stinging pain flared up around his shoulder.

He felt soft fur against his hand.

"PURRR."

As if it enjoyed the petting, the black panther made a pleasant sound.

'I survived today.'

"You're gonna make a habit out of fainting, at this rate."

"You think I passed out because I wanted to? I'm thirsty."

"Is that so?"

Encrid's eyes found Rem sitting there with his arms crossed.

And Big-eyes standing behind him.

Big-eyes brought him some water. After taking a few sips, his throat quickly became moist, like watering parched earth.

"Wow, I'm telling you, our Squad Leader's got a tough life. Look, he's alive."

Big-eyes said, watching him drink the water.

"He lost too much blood."

Jaxon stated nonchalantly.

In the back, a highly religious squad member offered up a prayer.

"Lord, I offer my prayers of gratitude for hearing our pleas."

Ragna quietly watched him before speaking.

"Are you alright?"

"Not enough to kill me."

Because he was alive, he was able to say such a thing.

Because he had passed today and greeted tomorrow, he was able to say it.

Encrid gave a modest smile and lay back down.