Chapter 51 - 'Surely Not' Gets You Killed (2)

"He's lucky."

A soldier watching the sparring said that.

He was a soldier who had come from the same mercenary background.

He was also one of the people who had grumbled at Encrid during the awards ceremony before.

He stepped forward with a scowl.

"You're not tired, are you? How about one more round?"

To be promoted, one had to be acknowledged by three middle-grade soldiers.

Or subdue all three of them.

It did not end after facing only one.

"Uh, Squad Leader?"

Big-eyes tried to read the mood.

Seeing the opponent growling, the atmosphere had turned vicious.

Encrid looked at the fallen soldier with question-filled eyes.

Was this right?

He had only hooked his foot once, and that had decided the match.

The soldier who had fallen got up clutching his wrist.

"You lucky bastard."

The soldier holding his wrist said that as he withdrew, and perhaps because it hurt so much, tears showed at the corners of his eyes.

It was understandable that it hurt.

Still, it did not seem bad enough to cry over.

Encrid turned his gaze.

Toward his second opponent.

Looking at him, Encrid took his stance.

"I'm not tired."

"Good, then I'll be your opponent this time."

Encrid briefly reviewed the fight from just now.

'Luck was on my side.'

The soldier had been far too defenseless as he fell.

He had not thought to protect his body.

It seemed he had not expected, even slightly, that he would be the one to go down.

'Why?'

The reason for his carelessness was that he looked down on his opponent.

But even so, could a match be decided just because he was tripped with a light kick?

Did that make any sense?

He did not know.

Then he could just try again.

His opponent pulled out a spear.

The infantry battalion stationed at the Border Guard broadly had two types of soldiers.

One was light armored infantry, and the other was heavy armored infantry.

Among them, using a long spear as a weapon was one of the traits of heavy armored infantry.

They were infantry the Border Guard had deliberately invested crona into raising.

Their position was different from light infantry.

That meant that even among the same middle-grade soldiers, they could be called soldiers who had been more properly trained and taught technique.

His opponent aimed a short spear meant for individual combat and began spinning the spearhead round and round.

Encrid did not let his gaze be stolen by it.

"When you fight, you take in the opponent's entire body with your eyes."

Those were Ragna's words.

Encrid was faithful to them.

WHOOSH.

The spearhead drove in, aiming around his side.

It was a nimble thrust, like a hawk hunting its prey.

'Slow.'

But compared to the Stabbing Pervert he had met on the first repeated today, it was slow.

The trajectory was clearly visible, and it was avoidable.

With his left foot as the center, Encrid shifted his body's centerline and changed his stance, showing quick wit in that instant.

He did not stop at avoiding the spear, but wedged it against his side.

When the spear was restrained with a thump, his opponent pulled it back.

Encrid matched the pulling force and leaped forward.

"Huh!"

When Encrid, whom he had expected to resist, released his strength and rushed in along with the spear, the soldier sucked in a startled breath.

The soldier, flustered, raised his left arm out of the two hands gripping the spear and put up a guard.

Encrid raised his sword toward the opponent's eyes as if to thrust, then extended his foot and hooked the opponent's shin.

With the shin hooked on his right foot, he stretched his left foot forward, twisted his pelvis, and shoved the opponent in the chest with his shoulder.

THUD.

With a choking sound and a heavy impact, the opponent toppled sideways with a crash.

There was no need to aim his sword.

Encrid simply looked down from above.

The heavy armored infantryman, a soldier of the 1st Company's 1st Platoon, lay fallen and looked up at Encrid.

In his eyes, the troublemaker Squad Leader's body looked twice as large as it had when they first faced each other.

It was because of the psychological pressure born from being subdued.

'Fuck.'

Even though the solid hit had knocked the breath from him, he cursed the bastard who had been insulting the troublemaker Squad Leader.

Of course, that included himself.

'What lowest-grade?'

Encrid looked down at him and asked.

"More?"

"No, no, let's stop here."

The second middle-grade soldier withdrew, and it was time for the third middle-grade soldier to step forward.

"Idiots."

One of the soldiers who had been watching Encrid's promotion match the whole time muttered.

It was Andrew.

The same Andrew who had carried out the reconnaissance mission with Encrid.

Andrew had judged that Encrid had already far surpassed the middle-grade level back then, and now he fought even better.

Whatever had happened in the meantime, his swordsmanship had matured.

Andrew praised himself for betting all his crona on Encrid.

At the same time, he gauged who would win if they fought now.

He, too, had devoted himself to training during that time.

Mac, who was right beside him, looked at Andrew and said.

"What the hell happened to that bastard?"

"Why?"

"His skill has improved too much."

"How much?"

Seeing Andrew's expression as he spoke, Mac shook his head.

"He's different from before."

Previously, after the reconnaissance mission ended, Mac had told Andrew that if he wanted to properly cross swords with the troublemaker Squad Leader, he should steel himself and gain experience.

But now, he had to take those words back.

"If you fought him now, it would be difficult."

"It would be difficult for me too."

Mac was a swordsman skilled enough to look over Andrew's swordsmanship.

And someone like him said it would be difficult.

Andrew nodded.

This much was only right.

Was he not the person who had knocked him down in one blow?

And he was also the first person in his life whom Andrew had naturally found himself drawn to and wanted to follow.

On one side, Vengeance was also watching the sparring.

He had just finished duty and was on his way back, but the sparring ground made of soft dirt in the corner of the parade ground was noisy.

"What's going on?"

One of his subordinates explained the situation.

Vengeance watched the sparring with his spear tucked under his side, his helmet removed and hung on the spearhead.

Encrid fought twice, and he laid his opponents down twice.

It was easy to say in words, but among those who saw it, anyone with a certain eye for skill could tell for sure.

'If that is luck.'

It would be on the level of the goddess of fortune reincarnating as a man.

The third opponent did not step forward easily.

Only then did Krais realize that his Squad Leader fought better than he had thought.

He, too, was sharp as a ghost when it came to reading situations.

So he pointed out the third opponent himself.

"You there, you're from the 2nd Platoon, right? Have a round with him."

If there was nothing to trust in, that was one thing.

But if he had something to trust, Krais could become a bold broker.

It meant he could draw out an opponent by provoking him if necessary.

"Me?"

The number of spectators had grown by a lot.

Stepping forward here only to get beaten down would hardly be a good sight.

"Then who else would I be talking to? Why, when you were calling him a male whore and whatever from behind, you seemed so confident."

As Krais spoke, he raised the corner of his mouth and sneered at his opponent.

At this point, there was no way he could avoid stepping forward.

"Ptooey, fine, I'll do it."

The foul-mouthed soldier spat on the ground and stepped forward.

Standing on the fine dirt, he looked at Encrid.

Encrid had just finished reviewing the second fight.

'I had only been fighting battles that were too difficult.'

His opponent was too easy.

His squadmates, including Rem, had always said the soldier grading system was a mess.

"Can every middle-grade really be the same middle-grade? Even if you say they become usable from upper-grade at least, the gap there is still too damn wide. And do you think the outcome of a fight where lives are on the line is decided by skill alone? Even if their skill is lacking, the continent is crawling with bastards who use their heads well and kill their opponents."

Those were Rem's words.

Even so, to be acknowledged here, he had to climb higher in the soldier grading system.

'If not that, then stand above the grading system itself.'

Those who stood above the grading system.

They were the owners of the red capes.

There were two battalions stationed at the Border Guard.

Since they took turns being dispatched to and stationed at Green Pearl, usually one battalion and the reserve troops occupied the city.

The force currently stationed in the city was the 1st Army, to which Encrid belonged.

Half of the 2nd Army was out in the field at the Green Pearl Plains.

Even if they were not fighting the enemy, it was only natural to hold their position.

Taking turns every year to guard the winter, that was the role of the Border Guard's standing army.

In a city with not even ten thousand people, there were two infantry battalions and a directly commanded unit under the kingdom.

This was the first time a member of the Red Cape Knight Order had personally entered the battlefield, but sometimes members of the order were also dispatched.

All of this was possible because the Border Guard was territory directly controlled by the kingdom.

In the past, when relations with Aspen were good, the Border Guard was said to have been a trading city where various goods, including spices, stayed.

Afterward, once Aspen began its war of invasion, this place was transformed into a military city and fortress city.

The low walls were built higher, and watchtowers were erected.

The three watchtowers were a symbol that Naurilia was glaring at Aspen.

Because it was that kind of city, most of the garrisoned troops within the units were also fairly skilled.

A city on the frontier, yet a place where forces that had gone through repeated real battles were gathered.

That was the strength the Border Guard possessed.

Therefore, the soldier before his eyes, too, had to be assumed to possess that much skill.

For these reasons, it should have been normal for no opponent to be easy.

That had been the case when this battle began.

This had been a place filled with more than enough people to serve as Encrid's opponents.

"You were thinking about something else, weren't you?"

His opponent asked.

"No."

Encrid felt a stab of guilt, but immediately shook his head.

Do not look down on your opponent.

It was something countless swordsmanship instructors had said.

To keep those words, he had even chewed over the past of the city that had been reborn as a strategic key point.

Do not look down on them.

At one time, those words had not really resonated with him.

'Can I look down on anyone?'

But now, he had to steel himself to keep those words.

He did not laugh.

He was simply satisfied.

It was a thrill separate from the joy of growth.

Proving and displaying his skill.

That gave Encrid pleasure.

"What are you so happy about?"

His opponent asked again.

Encrid realized that a faint smile had appeared on his face.

"Fighting is fun."

"You crazy bastard."

His opponent, having steadied his breathing, charged in.

He swung his sword down vertically.

Encrid moved while following the trajectory of the opponent's sword with his eyes.

He gathered strength from the foot planted on the ground, sent it past his knee, and laid it into his waist.

With that same momentum, he put strength into his sword and struck away the opponent's blade.

CLANG!

A clear metallic sound rang out.

The opponent's chest opened.

When Encrid drew back the sword he had struck with and made as if to thrust, his opponent also tried to pull his arm back and take a defensive stance.

Encrid only pretended to thrust, then lifted the tip of his sword and closed the distance.

Then, looking into his bewildered opponent's eyes, he pressed their blades together, stepped forward with his left foot to hook the opponent's heel, and put strength into the hand gripping his sword to push forward.

The opponent had barely pulled his sword in front of his chest.

A sword with its blade pressed against another blade could not be used to attack.

The enemy soldier was helplessly taken down.

CRASH.

Caught at the Achilles tendon, he toppled.

With no way to hold out, the soldier landed on his backside.

Encrid pressed the blade of his sword above the crown of the fallen opponent's head.

Everything had happened in an instant.

And with these three fights, Encrid properly showed his skill.

The fallen soldier rolled his eyes upward and confirmed the sword resting above his head.

"... I lost."

The soldier said.

Since ancient times, Naurilia had worshiped the strong.

It was not called the land of knights for nothing.

Andrew and Mac.

Vengeance, who had been watching from behind.

The Fairy Company Commander, who had arrived at some point to watch.

The members of the troublemaker squad, including Rem and Ragna.

Even the soldier who had once cursed Encrid behind his back.

No one opened their mouth.

The sunlight slanting overhead reflected off the blade and shone.

The light brushed half of Encrid's face.

The seeping sunlight, the stretching shadows, and the white heat rising over his shoulders thanks to the frigid air.

All of it made them see a strange illusion.

It was as if they could see Encrid, who had torn apart the flag that was the medium of the spell in the middle of the battlefield and returned alive.

The fact they had all refused to acknowledge and pushed away became reality and lodged itself in their minds.

The fog of massacre, the one who had broken that spell, was the person who had saved them.

"I thought there was no way."

Someone muttered.

That was, in other words, acknowledgment.

When they did not know his skill, they could criticize him, but now they could not.

Acting ugly only lasted for so long.

The soldier who had been defeated second opened his mouth.

"I ran my mouth carelessly."

"I apologize."

Encrid silently nodded.

To begin with, the standing army of the Border Guard was full of people like this.

A rough unit that could not tolerate someone without skill standing before them.

That was the sword of the frontier, the army of the Border Guard.

Conversely, if one proved oneself with skill, they knew how to show respect immediately.

Encrid had proven himself by overwhelming middle-grade soldiers.

"Spellbreaker."

Someone muttered.

There were no cheers.

It was not that kind of atmosphere.

But it seemed that would harden into a nickname.

Spellbreaker? That was excessive.

Thinking that, Encrid briefly wondered what he should do now, then opened his mouth.

"I think it's time to face an upper-grade soldier."

He had ended three middle-grade soldiers with nothing but foot hooks.

Then, what remained now?

What remained, indeed.

An upper-grade soldier remained.

He was thinking of fighting again in the middle of all this?

Krais opened his already large eyes even wider.

He truly thought his Squad Leader was hopeless.

Then, should he set up another fight just like this?

That was what he was thinking when it happened.

"Whistle."

Someone whistled and stepped forward.

The soldier who stepped forward smiled plainly and said.

"This is interesting."

He was a soldier wearing an epaulet with an eagle emblem.

What the epaulet symbolized was that he was a member of the Border Guard, a directly commanded unit under the kingdom.

It was a unit as famous as Aspen's independent company, the Gray Dog.

Frontier Slaughterers, those nicknamed the slaughterers of the frontier, and even within the rough and brutal Border Guard, they were the most vicious unit.

Their total number was two hundred, but as a directly commanded unit under the king, every member was composed of upper-grade soldiers or above.

The one who stepped forward was one of them.