“You, get over here!”
“You're being loud. This is a medical tent.”
“So what, you bastard.”
He might as well have been growling, but even the fiercest beast is no threat if it's out of reach.
“It seems we were fated to meet again. The first time we saw each other was in the lower village, wasn't it?”
A twisted fate. A twisted fate that made them run into each other at every turn.
“Where does a cursed bastard like you get off acting friendly?”
Benzens was the one who had spoken first. Enkrid didn't bother to point that out. He wasn't so petty as to argue about such things.
“Very well.”
Instead, he turned his body away. The ointment Jacksen had given him was working wonders. He could move like this with almost no pain.
“What are you doing?”
“You told me not to act friendly, so I'm pretending not to know you.”
“Are you messing with me, you bastard!”
Benzens roared.
If he knew it was a joke, there was no need to get so angry.
But somehow.
‘Is it because I’m always surrounded by such deadly squad members?’
Benzens, whom he hadn't seen in a while, was almost cute by comparison. Watching Rem, Jacksen, and the other squad members argue often felt like it was shaving years off his life.
“Ah, you’ve noticed. As expected of the Platoon Leader, the future of the Cyprus Division.”
“You, you!”
A vein bulged on Benzens’ forehead as he picked up his boot and threw it. Enkrid swiftly caught it.
“Is this a gift?”
“I’ll kill you, you bastard!”
Was it Rem who said it once? That he himself was pretty good at getting under people’s skin.
“But I don’t want to argue with the Squad Leader when he decides to run his mouth.”
That’s what he had said. Enkrid held the boot with a placid look on his face. Benzens fumed, watching him.
And then.
“Pahahaha!”
A soldier who had been idly killing time while staring into space burst out laughing. It was the kind of laugh that sounded like he was about to die from sheer amusement. At the sound of his laughter, Benzens’ murderous gaze whipped around.
The blond man, having had a good laugh, wiped away a small tear with a curled finger and said.
“No, ‘Is this a gift?’ I couldn't hold that one in. I’d been holding it in since the ‘pretending not to know you’ part. Phew.”
Ggrriinndd.
Enkrid thought Platoon Leader Benzens’ molars would probably break before he turned forty. Constantly grinding your teeth is bad for your gums, too. He considered whether he should mention this as well.
A little more, and he felt the man might be recorded as a soldier who died from a brain hemorrhage after being unable to contain his anger.
“Your unit?”
Benzens was composed. Instead of swearing at the man, he asked for his unit.
“Me? Hmm, just a passing soldier.”
Oh?
Enkrid was inwardly impressed by the man's audacity. He himself was at least a Squad Leader. But that man seemed to be just a common soldier.
And yet, he had such an attitude. However, saying it like that made it seem more like he was hiding his unit and rank. Benzens was no fool either.
“Are you saying you can’t reveal your unit?”
“It's a bit like that. But I was telling the truth when I said I’m a soldier. I just forgot which unit I belong to.”
How carefree.
Enkrid saw the dignity of a nobleman in the blond man. If a fool who forgot his own unit wasn't a noble…
‘He should be beaten to a pulp.’
He would have no excuse even if he were beaten to death. Therefore, the attitude he was showing now was a form of dignity.
Grind, grind.
Benzens was stuck, unable to do anything.
“But you shouldn't be looking at me right now. I think you should be looking behind you.”
Enkrid's and Benzens' gazes had been on the blond man for a while now. So, both of them turned their heads. There was someone behind them.
‘When did she?’
He couldn't say his senses were exceptional. Still, he had his share of experience rolling around on the battlefield. He had a certain degree of intuition, but now, he hadn't even known someone was standing behind him.
He hadn't heard a sound either.
“Is this the place? Where the Four-Four-Four Squad Leader is?”
It was a woman. Moreover, a member of a race whose bodies were generally slimmer than humans, with clearer eyes and larger ears.
An elf.
She stared intently at the blond man and spoke. Judging by her natural tone, she was a superior officer. Enkrid made that assessment, raised his hand, and opened his mouth.
“Fourth Company, Fourth Platoon, Fourth Squad Leader Enkrid, over here.”
The elf woman's gaze finally left the blond man. Then, the tent flap fluttered and the soldier guarding the medical tent entered, adding an explanation.
“Yes, he is the Squad Leader under your command.”
“An elf?”
Benzens finally reacted, looking quite surprised. Hearing this, the elf turned her head without so much as raising an eyebrow.
“That man is the Third Platoon Leader of the Second Company.”
The soldier in charge of the medical tent spoke without being asked. The elf woman's subsequent tone was exceedingly dry. Someone once said that elves were symbols of grass and trees, but her voice was truly like the sand of a desert.
“Does the second company teach you to state a superior's race when you see them? I know I'm an elf better than anyone.”
‘Damn, she’s good.’
Enkrid saw an innate dignity and charisma in the elf woman. She had crushed her opponent with a single phrase.
“N-N-No, ma'am! Third Platoon Leader of the Second Company, Ben-Benzens, ma'am!”
“I have a request.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
“Platoon Leader Ben-Benzens, I hope you’ll please shut that mouth of yours while I am here. You don't need to answer my request right now. If you open that mouth, I feel like I'll want to plant either a knife or a fist in your face. Platoon Leader Ben-Benzens.”
Enkrid didn't bother to correct her that Platoon Leader Ben-Benzens's name was just Benzens. Benzens opened his mouth to speak, then clamped both hands over it.
“Well then, I heard you are leading some interesting squad members.”
The company commander's gaze returned to Enkrid.
“Yes, thank you.”
There was nothing to be gained from getting on the new company commander’s bad side. He answered respectfully. From the conversation that followed, Enkrid got a strange feeling.
‘Why did this woman come here?’
The conversation was entirely useless. She mentioned his performance in battle. From Enkrid’s personal perspective, it was indeed a good performance.
He had killed the enemy lancer. And in the process, he had saved quite a few allies within his reach. But if asked whether that had affected the battlefield as a whole.
‘I doubt it.’
He didn't think it was that kind of event. Separate from his actual skill, Enkrid’s eye for the battlefield was quite good.
“You survived an encounter with Frokk?”
“Yes, I was lucky.”
“Luck is a skill. It’s not often the Goddess of Fortune drops a coin.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Did she really come all this way for this kind of conversation? Enkrid couldn't understand her intentions at all. In any case, the elven company commander spoke to him while looking at him with her green, shining eyes.
And Enkrid answered faithfully. Soon after, the company commander turned to leave, saying, ‘Well then, I look forward to your future exploits.’ Just before she left, she turned back one last time.
It was toward the blond man.
“And what’s your name?”
“Uh, umm, it's Krang.”
He rolled his eyes and furrowed his brow as he said the name. Anyone could tell.
‘He just made that up.’
It was that kind of name.
“I see.”
The company commander replied nonchalantly and left the tent. Benzens, who had barely been able to breathe, let alone speak, until then, finally let out a huge breath.
“Shit.”
“Oh, Company Commander.”
As Enkrid spoke upon hearing the curse, Benzens jumped in fright.
“Never mind. It was just a passing soldier.”
“You son of a bitch, I swear.”
The Platoon Leader, who had become Ben-Benzens for the day, flew into a rage. And the blond man who had identified himself as Krang laughed heartily again. The soldier guarding the medical tent, wondering what was wrong with these three, glanced at them before heading outside.
Looking at Platoon Leader Benzens, Enkrid thought that he wouldn't be bored for the duration of his stay here.
Replaying the battle in his mind. The path forward. Enkrid focused on these two things.
‘To thrust with all my strength, but not my entire heart.’
Having found a clue in less than a day, his body was itching for action. But he couldn't push his body right now. With his side hurting, the only training he could do was grip strength training.
Enkrid worked on his fingers and forearms. It might seem like a foolish thing to do.
‘The body is the foundation of all techniques.’
Even the tiniest leaf has weight, and even a single drop of water, with the help of time, can pierce a rock. Therefore, this seemingly insignificant effort now would be helpful later. Enkrid believed this and had built his own tower up to this point.
“You’re really diligent.”
It was Krang. Two days had passed since the company commander had left. Besides replaying the battle and doing grip strength training, Enkrid had done nothing else.
He focused on resting. Resting was important work too. If anything had changed.
It was only that the half-mad soldier who called himself Krang and made the excuse that he'd forgotten his unit was now loitering around him.
“Why are you so diligent?”
Krang spoke informally to everyone. It was a given with Enkrid. It was the same with Benzens.
“I’m a Platoon Leader. A superior officer!”
He even teased him. Seeing that, it didn't seem like he was here because he was injured. And it seemed he was quite skilled as well.
Watching his footwork as he deliberately passed in front of Benzens, just barely avoiding being caught, he was clearly no ordinary man.
“About what?”
Since the man said he was a soldier. Enkrid also spoke informally.
“You’re clenching and unclenching your hands every day. Other than that, you just stare into space, lost in thought. I wonder what you think about so hard, and what’s with all the diligent hand clenching.”
For someone who wasn't an eight-year-old child, he sure was curious about a lot of things. But it wasn't that bothersome.
‘I’m bored too, after all.’
Teasing Platoon Leader Benzens was only fun for so long. Having some small talk and someone to talk to was a good way to overcome boredom.
“This is grip strength training, and when I'm still, I'm not lost in thought, I'm reviewing the mistakes I made on the last battlefield.”
“So why do you do that stuff?”
Why did he do it?
“So I don't die on the next battlefield.”
“I’ve never seen a soldier who goes that far just to not die.”
“Then have you ever seen a soldier like that live for a long time?”
“Hmm, quite a few?”
What had this person seen in his life? Enkrid had long suspected that the man was just playing at being a commoner. Not that it changed anything.
If the other person wanted it, he could play along. It wasn't like he was losing anything. He didn't feel jealous that the other person had something he didn't. If he were to get jealous over things like that, he should already be half-mad with envy over swordsmanship talent.
Enkrid wasn't like that. Rather, he felt more fulfilled by the joy of having a path to follow and of growing stronger.
‘I think I just need more practice with my thrusts.’
Putting his whole heart into it required training. The Heart of the Beast was still a pillar that protected him. One more step forward.
One step, every day. Even if today didn't repeat, nothing would change. Of course, not everything remained unchanged.
“What do you want to be?”
Krang asked.
It was similar to when Rem had asked him before. The memory of that time came back to him.
‘Why does that feel like it was so long ago?’
That day was already gone. A day that had vanished because he had died. So the ambition he had spouted like a joke had truly vanished like a joke.
If he were to open his mouth and speak of the future, of his dream.
‘Will today vanish too?’
It wouldn't. Even though the dream was silenced, devoured, and torn apart by reality, a trace remained. A trace, yes, just a trace remained around his heart. He had thought that way once.
But how was it now?
‘Is only a trace left?’
Enkrid looked at his own palm. He saw his palm, hideously misshapen from calluses that had formed and burst over and over. The ingrained calluses on each of his finger joints would probably never disappear in his lifetime.
This was what he had longed for.
‘Is that really so?’
Is there still only a trace left? He asks himself. And seeks an answer.
It probably wasn't. He believes it wasn't. Funnily enough, even in those days when only a trace remained, Enkrid had never given up.
“A knight.”
A third-rate mercenary turned low-ranking soldier. And a Squad Leader at that. Just a Squad Leader.
A tiny rank, an insignificant skill. For such a person to utter the name of the pinnacle of all warriors. Benzens, who was beside them, was about to laugh his head off.
But Krang’s response was faster.
“I see. A knight.”
It was strange. He should have laughed. He was supposed to.
But Krang’s attitude stopped him. It wasn't forced, but his instincts told him he shouldn't. It was just a calm tone, but it was heavy. It carried weight.
Krang took that ridiculous dream seriously. He listened with all his might, with all his heart. He never knew the act of listening could be done to such an extent.
“Seeing you, I think I'm starting to get a sense of how I should live my life too,” Krang said.
Enkrid shrugged his shoulders. The strange atmosphere that had momentarily enveloped the medical tent vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
“Puhet, a knight? Don’t make me laugh!”
So Benzens laughed to his heart's content. But he just looked pathetic. Neither Enkrid nor Krang paid him any mind.
“I’m the superior officer here.”
Benzens attempted a timid rebellion. Of course, it was bound to fail.
Exactly one week. Enkrid's side no longer hurt.
‘Is it thanks to the ointment?’
He had recovered quickly. As bedtime approached, Krang asked.
“You're returning tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
The day had been simple. The bard, who returned after a week, had started singing hymns glorifying Sir Cyprus right next to the medical tent since morning. The soldier guarding the medical tent had overslept in the morning.
During a light walk around noon, he had spotted Krais. Big Eyes looked pale. Before he could ask anything, he had briskly walked off somewhere.
After that, nothing happened. Since patients in the medical tent were exempt from night watch, he could say he had truly rested well.
“Sleep well, Enkrid.”
“You too, Krang.”
“I’ll get you both back when you return.”
Benzens also offered his daily farewell. And so, Enkrid closed his eyes and fell asleep.
And then.
“Sir Cyprus! Sir Cyprus!”
He awoke to the sound of the bard's singing.
‘Again today?’
He had heard that this man, who had become a battlefield bard after getting a taste for money, roamed all over the camp singing. Which meant he didn't stay in one place for two days. The sound of his song should have been coming from farther away today.
Why was he in this area for two days in a row?
“Is he slacking off, the bastard? Why haven’t they brought breakfast?”
Benzens grumbled as he got up. Enkrid’s hair stood on end at those words. Because he had heard those exact words yesterday.
No, to be precise, he'd heard them in the today that had repeated.
“Was the soldier late with breakfast yesterday too?”
Enkrid asked.
Benzens stared at Enkrid, then smirked and replied.
“What kind of trick is this? He brought it on time yesterday.”
Enkrid let out a hollow breath. This confirmed it. Today had repeated.
Which meant.
‘I died in my sleep without a sound.’