Chapter 52 - The Turtles and the Frontier Slaughterers (1)

"Let's have a go with me as well."

The soldier who spoke stepped forward. His appearance was plain. He was slightly shorter than Encrid, but his body looked sturdy.

The deep blue blade of the shortsword held in his lowered hand reflected the light.

The Frontier Slaughterers, the Border Guard, were a small, elite force.

Although it was a directly commanded unit of a mere two hundred men, the Battalion Commander and the commander of the directly commanded unit held equal status.

According to Naurilia's organization, they also belonged to the kingdom's direct military.

This meant they were a unit with a separate chain of command from the 1st and 2nd infantry battalions stationed at the Border Guard.

The member of the Border Guard looked at Encrid with flat eyes.

It wasn't a provocative gaze. Rather, it was closer to an arrogant look, seeing him as a step below.

That stimulated Encrid's competitive spirit. It made him feel it was worth a try.

Encrid was enjoying this.

'I can fight.'

Being immediately crushed due to a lack of skill.

Compared to the past where he was so overwhelmed by talent that he couldn't even begin, how was he now?

He was briefly savoring the joy of that change.

Perhaps thinking Encrid was hesitating, the surroundings grew noisy.

"Spellbreaker."

"troublemaker Squad Leader."

"Let's give it a go."

"What's so special about a special-grade anyway."

Even though there had only been three short sparring matches, everyone added their voices in support of Encrid.

It was a truly bizarre experience.

Because he had never experienced anything like this in his entire life, it could be said it was a first for him.

"Let's go!"

"Let's goooo!"

"Show them!"

"The flower of the battlefield is!"

"The infantry!"

Now they were even outright shouting the infantry chant. It was funny. The opponent was also infantry, after all.

In any case, their supportive feelings were clearly conveyed.

The competitive spirit making him want to fight.

A thirst that could not be satisfied by mere middle-grade soldiers.

The morale of the infantry standing firmly behind him gathered together.

At that moment, a thrilling sensation rushed from the tips of his toes through his entire body.

Watching the situation from the outside, Vengeance could understand the hearts of those cheering for Encrid.

'It makes sense.'

Hadn't Vengeance himself squawked and yelled for Encrid to show them?

A lowest-grade soldier who swung his sword while cutting into his sleeping time.

The Squad Leader who managed the troublemaker squad.

His status was insignificant, and.

His skills were abysmal compared to his effort.

That was the evaluation up until now. Everyone else probably thought similarly.

But what about now?

Encrid, the troublemaker Squad Leader, had shown a completely different side than before.

He had proven himself by displaying outstanding skill.

It was the moment it became reality that he had saved his allies' lives and changed the tide of the battlefield by destroying the spell.

It was something they knew, yet still doubted.

That doubt became reality, and now everyone knew. Who the highest contributor of the previous battlefield was.

A contribution that the Battalion Commander replaced with words of praise and a single pouch of crona.

As with any military, there was a culture here of the higher-ups taking all the credit.

Especially since the current Battalion Commander already had terrible rumors about him.

Talk was widespread that he was the type to view his unit members as mere consumables.

There were quite a few soldiers who had subtly noticed Encrid's skill.

A few, including himself.

Among them was Bell.

The soldier whom Encrid had protected from the arrows of the bastard called The Claw of the Hawk using a shield.

'I knew it would be like this!'

He had recognized it from the moment he was saved.

The troublemaker Squad Leader was someone who would succeed no matter what he did.

'Of course.'

Was that all?

The hearts of everyone who had formed a connection with him, knowingly or unknowingly, became one.

Encrid was now the one representing the ordinary soldiers of the Border Guard.

Receiving their cheers, Encrid lightly kicked the tip of his sword with his foot and took his stance.

At the same time, putting the thrilling sensation aside, he steadied his breathing.

"You're going to do it, right?"

"I have no particular reason to avoid it."

Seeing Encrid step forward so calmly, Torres, the member of the Border Guard, thought to himself.

'Would you look at this?'

Frontier Slaughterers.

Even though his unit hadn't earned that nickname for nothing, the opponent wasn't avoiding it. Rather, he was stepping up to fight. There was even a faint smile on his face.

It was amusing. Enjoyable. And at the same time, displeasing. He wanted to show the difference between a regular soldier and a special forces soldier.

WHOOSH.

Torres lunged forward first. His footwork was frighteningly fast.

Encrid waited, then thrust his sword down the middle.

It was a good move.

Because he would have to dodge it somehow—whether left or right, up or down.

The moment he dodged, a heavy strike would follow in that direction.

Torres did not dodge.

He thrust his own sword toward Encrid's incoming blade.

The moment blade met blade, Encrid tried to press down with force, but the opponent used a trick.

CLAAAAAAAAANG!

Sliding blade against blade, he lifted his sword diagonally upward, twisting it so the point of contact between the swords became a diagonal line.

The downward striking force was deflected and slipped away. It was a parry, the foundation of the Flowing Sword Technique.

Sparks flew as the swords clashed.

When his downward pressing force deflected to the side, Encrid did not hesitate; he pulled his rear right foot forward and kicked.

SMACK!

Just before the tip of his foot reached its target, the opponent blocked Encrid's shin with his palm.

The distance closed. It was even further inside than the reach of a sword. Torres let go of the shortsword he was holding and dug deeper into Encrid's chest.

In doing so, he crossed both hands and grabbed the collar at Encrid's nape. His intention was to choke off his airway.

Whether the opponent choked him or not, Encrid steadily pulled his sword upward from between his legs.

It was a move aiming for the opponent's spine with a back-edge strike.

Being choked wouldn't knock him out immediately, and in the meantime, he would be able to leave a rather deep sword cut on the special-grade soldier's back.

Torres twisted his body. Instead of holding the collar, he forcefully shoved Encrid's chest with both hands.

Encrid resisted the pushing force. Without retreating, he changed the direction of his sword and swung it horizontally.

It was safe to say that Torres's defeat was preordained from the moment he let go of his shortsword.

One side held a weapon, and the other side did not.

Which side would have the advantage?

However, Encrid experienced something entirely different here.

The opponent suddenly disappeared.

'He disappeared?'

His Concentrate on a Single Point was broken. It was because the opponent vanished right before his eyes. He didn't even hear a sound.

After that, instinct moved Encrid.

It was an instinct ingrained in his body from dying countless, truly countless times.

The survival instinct he had gained from struggling endlessly to greet tomorrow while repeating the same day saved Encrid's today.

In an instant, he gripped his sword only with his right hand and snapped his chin back. Thanks to that, his chest was wide open.

Along with that, a flash of light surged up from within Encrid's embrace and right under his chin.

ZIP!

The flash grazed his cheek. In that brief opening, Encrid once again activated Concentrate on a Single Point.

If he missed this, he would die. His instinct still left a vivid warning.

The flash that surged upward abruptly dropped back down.

Encrid did not miss it. He caught the flash with his left palm while raising his knee.

SMACK— THUD!

A burning, agonizing pain was felt in his palm.

He could see the corners of Torres's eyes, who had closed in right under his nose, trembling.

Blood trickled down from his left palm, which had caught the blade of the dagger.

It was the aftermath of the fatal slash Torres had delivered after discarding his shortsword and silently drawing a dagger.

*Drip. * A drop of blood fell to the ground.

After that, as the blood flowed *pitter-patter*, Torres let out a breath and made a gesture to withdraw his blade.

Encrid obediently let go of the blade. Pain surged through his left hand. It was a burning agony.

He could also feel a stinging pain and blood flowing on his cheek.

It was because his cheek had been cut earlier as well.

If he hadn't dodged, his jaw would have been split open, so it could be said he was lucky.

If it hadn't been a movement driven by instinct.

'How terrifying.'

Encrid thought to himself.

"You're lucky. Eh?"

Following that, Rem's voice could be heard.

Rem was suddenly standing right behind Torres, resting his axe on his shoulder.

It was close enough to reach if he swung the axe.

Beside Rem, Ragna was also seen with his left hand on his sword and his left foot extended half a step.

It was the posture he used when demonstrating his sword-drawing technique.

"You shouldn't go any further than that."

Ragna muttered as well.

If these two had taken Torres's back, there was also someone standing by Torres's side.

It was the squadmate with auburn hair, Jaxon.

He wasn't holding any weapons in his hands. However, he looked more dangerous than Rem and Ragna.

The instinct that had surged up from the sparring just now told him so.

And these three weren't the end of it.

Encrid's gaze dropped downward. He saw a blade obstructing the gap between him and his opponent.

A sword resembling a leaf, the Nidle, a blade unique to the Fairy race.

"That's enough, I am the 4th Company Commander. Any more than this is murdering an ally."

It was the Fairy Company Commander. Her sword had intervened between the two at some point.

"Why is everyone so bloodthirsty over a simple spar? Two more slashes and I'd have a few new holes in my body."

Torres retrieved his dagger. Stroking the stomach that Encrid had hit, he raised both hands.

Only then did the people who had been watching their spar with bated breath let out a sigh of relief.

"He fights incredibly well."

"No, fuck, how is that a lowest-grade soldier?"

There probably wouldn't even be a need for a separate examiner.

"He's at least an upper-grade!"

They had eyes to see, too. Let alone considering who his opponent was.

"I'm Torres, a Platoon Commander of the Border Guard."

He said, tapping his epaulet, and held out his hand. Encrid sheathed his sword, extended his uninjured right hand, and grasped it.

"I am Encrid, 4th Squad Leader of the 4th Platoon in the 4th Company."

Since the opponent spoke with formality, Encrid also observed military etiquette.

"The troublemaker Squad Leader, I've heard the name."

Even within the city, anyone who mattered knew Encrid.

Torres flashed a good-natured smile. He didn't look like someone who had just been fighting with half his life on the line moments ago.

"You fight really well, huh? Let's see each other again sometime."

Torres spoke and turned around.

As he walked out through the onlookers, the crowd of soldiers hastily parted ways.

Frontier Slaughterers—the prestige of this unit was lofty even among allies.

A Platoon Commander from such a unit had acknowledged Encrid.

Only the soldier who had saved the battalion by breaking the spell in the previous battlefield remained.

"How is he still handsome in the middle of all that?"

Someone said, watching Encrid sweep up his sweat-soaked bangs.

Everyone gathered at the sparring ground committed Encrid to their eyes.

Though unintentional, it became the turning point that completely changed everyone's perception.

Funnily enough, after this incident, absolutely no one spoke carelessly about Encrid.

"Huh? That Squad Leader? Isn't he just a fox-like bastard running wild by relying on his squad members?"

Rather, if a soldier who hadn't watched the promotion spar said something like this, they would be the ones getting chewed out.

"What a load of bullshit. You owe your life to that Squad Leader on the last battlefield, and you're saying something like that?"

"Huh?"

The soldier who had been away on leave was flustered by his comrade's reaction.

"Don't you know about the Spellbreaker? You punk, do you think that spell just collapsed on its own? You hopeless, stupid bastard!"

Hadn't they just been cursing out the troublemaker Squad Leader together before he went on leave?

His comrade's change was far too dramatic.

And he couldn't even say anything because this wasn't the only person who had changed, so the soldier returning from leave ended up swept along by the atmosphere.

Even to him, it sounded like the right thing to say.

'They said he destroyed the spell.'

He had even been officially rewarded for it. Deep down, he had been thinking that perhaps the troublemaker Squad Leader really did accomplish something amazing.

Those who used to doubt if it was true and claimed it was all thanks to his squad members completely disappeared.

At the forefront of that was Bell.

"I, eh? I almost died from an arrow, but he just appeared and *SMACK*, blocked the arrow for me."

Naturally, Vengeance also played a part.

"There was a fire, and *ahem*, even though I hadn't treated him amicably before that, he saved me. I heard he collapsed after carrying me out of the flames. And it's true that Squad Leader Encrid was the one who broke the spell. I rushed from the vanguard and saw the Squad Leader. With my own two eyes!"

Andrew chimed in as well.

"I thought he was an extraordinary person from the very beginning. The one who predicted the enemy's movements and led the reconnaissance wasn't me, but Sir Encrid."

They even attached 'Sir' to the end of his name.

Mac, Andrew's nanny, also added a word.

"Throughout the reconnaissance mission, he threw himself into the most dangerous positions and the most dangerous tasks. His swordsmanship? That's not something I can carelessly comment on."

Mac was an individual whose skills were counted among the best even amongst ordinary soldiers.

The atmosphere had completely changed.

That being said, there were no changes to his daily routine. Although rumors were circulating heavily that the troublemaker Squad Leader was more skilled than expected.

"An upper-grade soldier?"

In the Battalion Commander's eyes, what was so great about a single soldier newly getting promoted to upper-grade anyway?

To him, the troublemaker Squad Leader was just a somewhat bothersome existence. Thus, he ignored him.

Encrid, too, was not swept up in the atmosphere.

He merely treated his wounds and did his best during his guard duty.

Two days after the promotion evaluations passed like that, Encrid was standing guard duty at the south gate of the Border Guard with Rem.

"Was this all intended? You're quite sneaky, Squad Leader."

Rem said.

"What do you mean?"

"The kids these days lose their minds sucking up to you whenever they see you, Squad Leader, yet you pretend not to know."

Encrid also had ears and eyes. Let alone having Krais around, who loved to gossip about rumors.

He knew everything there was to know.

At first, he felt proud.

Because even if it was just a struggle to survive, it was true that he had broken the spell.

But feeling proud was one thing.

Encrid quickly maintained his original attitude.

Training and tempering himself.

"Aren't you tired of it?"

"I'm not tired of it. A sparring match after duty?"

"Sounds good."

Rem chuckled softly. He quite liked the Squad Leader's consistency.

As their duty ended and they were returning to the barracks, someone blocked the two of them.

It was a face he was seeing for the first time.

"Could we talk for a moment?"

This was right before Rem could twitch his eyebrows and ask what kind of bastard he was.

"Sure."

It was a face Encrid knew. It was also someone in a position where Rem pretending to know them would clearly not end well.

"You go on ahead."

Encrid sent Rem in first.

"Will you be okay without me staying with you?"

"Just piss off."

Seeing Rem trying to act like a nanny, Encrid spoke in dismay.

"Wow, you throw a fit even when I look out for you."

"Don't look out for me."

"I'll say it again, if you abandon me, I'll hold a grudge. I'll sulk just like an adolescent girl!"

Rem spat nonsense until the very end.

What a headache-inducing bastard.

Saying he got it, Encrid gave Rem's back a light push. Rem obediently went inside, and.

The man who had been watching them until then lightly shook his head from side to side.

"Your discipline is a mess."

"Would we be called the troublemaker squad for nothing?"

It was right in front of the barracks. The man began to walk along the low wall of the military base. Encrid also walked alongside him.

"You know who I am, right?"

"Aren't you the 1st Company Commander?"

The man nodded.

1st Battalion, 1st Company.

He was the commander of the Turtle Heavy Infantry that the Border Guard infantry battalion boasted of.