“Today’s quota is filled.”
It was the third day since they had been deployed. It all started with a melee that began with light provocations. Rem had gone to the battlefield for three straight days, and each time he returned looking the same.
Scattering blood as he slammed the axes in his hands onto the ground. Whenever Rem went out, he killed exactly three men before coming back. His axe swings made those three men look something like firewood.
Living firewood that spilled brains or guts when split. In the initial moments when the friendly and enemy lines clashed, he would instantly slice, chop, and burst heads before returning. Any commander who saw this and didn't drool at the sight should have just thrown away their rank.
At the very least, anyone with a discerning eye would see he was a talent they wouldn't want to lose. And Rem wasn't the only one like this.
“I’m fine on my own, so I don’t know why they keep attaching soldiers to me.”
It was the same for the soldier named Ragna, who walked dragging his feet as if bored. At first, he didn't stand out at all. He always fought half-heartedly.
He would hold his ground just enough and then return. Unless someone came at him, he didn't particularly risk his life in a fight.
‘Such a waste of skill.’