After being unconscious for two whole days, Enkrid slept for another half a day. When he awoke, there was bread and soup placed before him. A long shadow fell over the bread and soup, then disappeared.
He turned his gaze to the half-open tent entrance. It seemed to be dawn. There was no sound of people coming and going, and perhaps because only a few torches were lit, the light coming through the entrance was much dimmer than before.
Everyone inside this tent was asleep. Enkrid reached for the bread.
‘My arm moves without any trouble.’
While his hand was out, Enkrid tried to twist his body halfway to sit up.
A jolt.
At that, a pain shot up from his side. It was so sharp it sent a tingling sensation all the way to the back of his head.
‘Still, if it's just this much.’
Rem had said nothing was broken. By his own judgment, that was true. He'd also said Enkrid passed out because his head was shaken, but thankfully, there seemed to be nothing wrong with his head.
He wasn't dizzy, and his eyes, nose, and ears were all fine.
Dip.
He tore a piece of bread, dipped it in the cold soup, and stuffed it into his mouth.
‘My tongue is fine too.’
He must have been terribly hungry, as he found even this to be delicious. His tongue reacted to the subtle sweetness of the flour. He didn't know what it was boiled with, but the soup was only slightly more seasoned than plain water, yet it was enough to fill his empty stomach.
As if the thick soup and bread were a meal from a proper restaurant, Enkrid chewed each piece thoroughly and swallowed slowly.
‘If you eat too quickly after passing out, your stomach will be upset.’
He knew from experience. Normally, the soldier guarding the medical tent should have been the one to tell him this. That soldier he saw in the evening had looked like everything was a bother.
A soldier guarding the medical tent in the first place, is that even a necessary role?
‘He must have connections.’
Otherwise, would a guy with perfectly fine limbs be doing a job like guarding injured soldiers here? After filling his stomach, he forced himself to sit up. If you lie down right after eating, your food won't digest.
When you're injured, the first thing to do is eat well and rest well. Eating well included digesting what you ate properly.
“Hoo.”
Letting out a small sigh, Enkrid stared blankly at the flickering light at the tent entrance. His eyes were watching the flickering torch, but his mind was filled with other thoughts. The repeated day, today, the day he finally overcame.
Enkrid reviewed that ‘today’ again and again. He replayed that moment so much that it even appeared in his dreams. Looking at the thrust itself, it was excellent.
Even he thought it was an impeccably clean strike.
‘Leading the fight to that point wasn't bad either.’
The help from the Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship was significant. There was also the benefit of training through the endlessly repeated 'today'. But that didn't mean he could say he did everything well.
‘It was clumsy.’
That was the conclusion after replaying that moment countless times. Someone passed in front of the tent.
Fwoosh.
The shadow of a soldier passing in front of the blazing torch stretched long. The elongated shadow soon became the perverted enemy lancer in Enkrid's imagination.
‘When I thrusted.’
What if the opponent had dodged? The shadow dodges the thrust. After dodging, it swiftly turns its sword and slashes.
The blade passed through the neck of the shadow playing Enkrid's role all too easily.
‘Then the one who dies is me.’
Said I made thorough preparations?
Hardly.
‘It was lacking.’
If the opponent had been a little smarter, if he'd known how to fight just a little better. If he'd accumulated just a tiny bit more experience. If he had at least survived until the next battlefield.
‘No, that's going too far.’
This is a leap in logic. If I think like this, there's no end to it. The shadow fighting with a sword was a product of his imagination; when he shook off the thought, it disappeared.
Enkrid stopped caring about what had already happened.
‘Instead of thinking 'what if,' let's think about the next step.’
Rem said I had to know how to thrust with all my might. But there was no way I could make every attack like that. So, he used his head.
Show the thrust only once. Before that, continuously provoke the opponent. When the opponent falls for the provocation and attempts a thrust, counterattack.
‘I bet everything on a single thrust.’
A thrust where failure means death. Is that truly right? One shouldn't lead a fight that way.
Even Enkrid knew that. If it hadn't worked and he'd faced a new 'today,' what should he have done?
‘If the thrust didn't work, should I have relied on luck?’
No, I can't do that. That was unacceptable. Not luck, but skill.
Enkrid told himself that was the best way to make use of the opportunity given to him. Just because he was pondering didn't mean he was overcome with self-loathing. It was simply the process of reviewing the facts, separating what was lacking from what was done well.
Just as he had always done after a battle or a spar.
“If you fight risking about half your life and survive, that fight will become your asset, Enki.”
The old swordsman was a swordsmanship teacher who taught kids in a quiet coastal city. In terms of skill alone, his level would have been embarrassing to make a name for himself even in a small commercial city, let alone a large one. But when it came to teaching, he wasn't bad.
At least to him, he was a very excellent teacher.
“If you intend to live by the sword until you die, then after a battle is over, digest everything you gained from it, pass it, and digest it again. That will be your path to survival.”
That must have been the path the old teacher had personally experienced and walked. He limped on his left foot. And his entire body was covered in sword scars.
A lesson learned by literally rolling his body through hardship. That instructor also took a lot of tuition fees. It wasn't a waste.
Because it had been quite a valuable time. Now was the time to reflect on what he had learned from him.
‘There must be another way.’
I can't thrust with all my might every single moment. Because then the one who dies will be me. Rem probably doesn't fight like that either.
But when it came time to actually spar with that crazy bastard Rem, I could feel that every single one of his axe swings carried a heavy weight and killing intent.
‘How can he do that?’
The joy of having succeeded with the thrust was very brief. Enkrid didn't get drunk on the sense of accomplishment. No, he was happy.
He felt a great sense of satisfaction at having overcome a wall with his own effort. But he didn't stop there. Naturally, Enkrid pictured tomorrow.
The time after succeeding with the thrust. Because he could now see the tomorrow that had been invisible before he succeeded. He was walking, reaching his hand toward the sun of that tomorrow.
‘What if I strike with all my power, but without putting my whole heart into it?’
In that way, he was getting closer to the answer. There was too little he could figure out just by thinking. But that was fine.
Because this moment probably wasn't all the time Enkrid was given. The faceless ferryman had said. That this was not the end.
That walls would continue to appear.
‘Did he say it would repeat?’
Then all I have to do is risk my life and challenge it again. Knowing that such a moment would come again, his heart pounded. A strange heat that started from his lower abdomen warmed his entire body.
Enkrid pretended not to notice the heat. Now was not the time to push his body.
‘First, rest.’
His throbbing side, even by self-diagnosis and not a doctor's, needed a good few days of rest.
‘But how in the world did I get here?’
What usually happens when a soldier gets injured? Regardless of the severity, they get treated in their own barracks and die there.
‘If they have good connections, they'd get treated with a doctor by their side.’
Or if the Goddess of Fortune had poured down bundles of coins, they might even receive a priest's prayer. Because divine healing was something only possible when luck and connections came together. Of course, it would be a different story for a high-ranking commander.
In any case, Enkrid was none of the three. Then that meant someone had pulled some strings here too.
‘I don't know.’
Seeing as he was starting to burp, it seemed his food had all been digested. Enkrid lay down and slept. He slept very soundly.
When you're injured, eating well and sleeping well is the best thing. The next day, when he opened his eyes. He saw large, round eyeballs.
“Back your face up a bit.”
As he pushed Big Eyes' face away with his hand, Big Eyes backed away before his hand even touched.
“You were sleeping so soundly I felt bad waking you, but you woke up at just the right time.”
“Hardly.”
He was the type of guy you'd be lucky if he didn't kick you awake, saying it was a waste of time.
“Tsk, who do you think it was that got the Squad Leader in here?”
Big Eyes said, puffing out his chest. I was wondering whose work it was. Then again, among the squad members, no one other than Big Eyes or Jacksen had this kind of resourcefulness.
“I had to loosen my purse strings for this. You owe me one. Don't forget it.”
He never asked to be put here. Still, a good thing was a good thing. The medical tent had better food than the regular barracks and was in the rear.
And it had the advantage of not having to do anything. Because you were exempt from everything, duties and all. If it hadn't been for this place, he would have had to clutch his aching side and struggle to keep his squad members in line.
‘But will the squad run well even without me?’
It was a useless worry. As if the weakest member of the 444 Squad had any business worrying about anyone.
‘Ah, this guy is the weakest.’
Big Eyes is hopeless at fighting. But that didn't mean he was without talent. I don't know what tricks he used, but whenever a battle broke out, he would always manage to slip to the rear, claiming to be a special corps.
Quite the talent. This time, Enkrid also benefited from that talent.
“Should I bow my head to the ground to thank you?”
“No need for a grand greeting. Just don't forget.”
‘What's so important about me not forgetting?’
“Got it.”
“Good. Then I'm busy, so I'll be going.”
For him to come visit while he was so busy, I was truly grateful. Big Eyes and Rem weren't the only ones who came. Jacksen stopped by, saying he was just passing, and tossed him a small container.
“Apply this to your side once a day, and the pain will lessen a bit. And don't mention where you got this.”
“Especially a secret from our squad members, right?”
Jacksen shrugged his shoulders and left abruptly. Twisting open the container, which was about the size of two finger joints, he saw a dark green ointment.
‘Did he make this by crushing some medicinal herbs?’
If he made it just for me, that's some serious dedication. Of course, that wasn't it. It was something he had seen a few times before.
Though this was his first time using it. He scooped up some ointment with his fingertip, stuck his hand under his clothes, and slowly spread it on his side. A sharp, tingling pain came with every movement, but.
The area where the ointment was applied grew warm, and the pain eased considerably.
‘This is good.’
Enkrid thought he should use it sparingly and, after closing the container tightly, placed it under his bed.
‘By the way, was the medical tent close to our barracks? It doesn't seem like a distance you could just drop by while passing.’
What does it matter? He received a potent ointment, and that was enough. After that, two other squad members also came and went.
“My apologies, Squad Leader. There's nothing I can do for you.”
One squad member who spoke as if there was something he could do but chose not to.
“Without the Squad Leader, the squad is a mess. Eat this.”
And another squad member who threw him half an apple he was eating and left. The last guy who stopped by had definitely just been passing by. Because this bastard was always getting lost.
He'd even heard him say in front of the medical tent, “Our Squad Leader is in here?
Why?”
‘That bastard didn't even know I was injured in the first place.’
Raising squad members is all for nothing.
‘Though it's not like I raised them.’
Everyone except Enkrid himself was good at fighting on their own and good at getting away.
‘I should just worry about my own business.’
How much of a mess could the squad become just because he was gone? They'll all manage just fine on their own. It was right to put aside useless worries.
Rather than that.
“You son of a bitch.”
This was more concerning. A new guest who had come in while he was resting alone. The fellow who entered the tent around noon.
The medical tent was large. If they squeezed in, more than ten people could lie down. But in this large tent, there were only three patients in total.
Enkrid with his aching side. A Platoon Leader who had joined today and was now staring at him. And a blond man lying in the corner, idly looking at the ceiling and tapping his fingers.
The one who spoke to Enkrid was the Platoon Leader.
“Skill at the level of the lowest-ranking soldier, and a Squad Leader on top of being a former mercenary. Do you offer your ass to your squad members in turns? How did you become a Squad Leader?”
That's why this one was more of a problem. He knew this Platoon Leader. The Platoon Leader from the neighboring company who was always eager to tear him apart.
His name was Benzens. I don't know who named him, but they sure did a solid job. The reason Benzens hated him?
He didn't know. He was a guy who growled at him from their very first meeting.
“And on top of that, the medical tent. You lucky bastard.”
‘Yeah, I think so too.’
My fate is indeed quite comfortable. It would have been perfect if Platoon Leader Benzens wasn't in the next bed.
“Yes, it's nice to meet you, Platoon Leader.”
“Nice?”
Should I say it sucks, then? Enkrid was an adult. He knew how to wear a mask.
“Yes, a little.”
“A little?”
“Because I'm not very happy to see you.”
“This bastard.”
Benzens flew into a rage. But he didn't attack. To be more precise, he couldn't. He'd heard that Benzens' thigh was deeply cut in the last battle.
So much so that even getting up was difficult for him now.
So.
‘Isn't now the perfect chance to mess with him?’
Enkrid was an adult. He knew how to wear a mask. And he also knew how to tease someone he disliked.