Enkrid knew his plan had worked. To turn the battlefield into a complete mess. And look, the battlefield was a mess now.
It was perfect, the best version of today among all the repeated todays. The messiest of all messes.
‘It worked.’
He had induced a chaotic battle, and thanks to that, a massacre of the werewolves occurred. Several soldiers died as well, but no matter how recklessly they charged, the soldiers who gathered in small groups and maintained at least a minimal formation had the upper hand.
‘The soldiers will win.’
It was while he was catching his breath on the outskirts of this mess he had created that Roger charged him. He readily lunged forward, thrusting his spear, and the spearhead looked like a single point. It was a terrifying thrust.
Instead of making a large movement, Enkrid just twisted his body slightly. His padded armor was already in tatters, but he trusted the sturdiness of the leather armor he wore underneath.
Hwung. Drrrk.
The enemy’s spearhead grazed his side. There was no sharp pain. That meant the armor had held.
Enkrid clamped the spear shaft under his arm.
“Hmph!”
Roger saw Enkrid trap his short infantry spear under his arm and exerted his strength. He intended to yank the spear back in one motion and tear apart his opponent’s arm and side. Grabbing a spearhead with your side?
I’ll rip you to shreds.
Ppi-iik!