The third today. Grip strength training and battle reviews, he did them all the same. Enkrid did not waste a moment.
The same day, nothing happened during the daytime. At least, not on the surface.
‘I just hadn’t noticed.’
Today was different from usual. Krang skipped breakfast and only returned after lunch. The soldier from the medical tent was also gone for a long time.
He was a soldier whose job was normally to guard the tent at all times. Everything else was the same. The fact that there were a few patients in the other nearby medical tents was also similar.
Enkrid sat in front of the tent, observing the soldiers coming and going. Since this was the rear, there were fewer combat troops compared to the front lines. A wheel on one of the man-pulled carts broke, causing the cart to tilt and collapse to one side.
The groans of the sick could be heard from here and there. A soldier complained as the wind blew fiercely. All things considered, it wasn’t a state of high alert.
‘Still, it’s not so lax that they’d miss a few assassins.’
The objective remained unchanged. All he had to do was confront the assassins and cause a commotion. He steeled his resolve.
The rest of the day passed as usual.
“Don’t you get tired of that?”
There was Krang’s routine question.
“Just you wait until we get back, you bastards.”
And Benzens’s meaningless muttering. The night deepened. Enkrid lay down, then sat up, perching on the edge of his cot.
Sitting there, he reviewed the information he knew. The time the assassins would arrive was.
‘After the third night watch shift change.’
The weapons they used were poison needles and blades. Their build resembled that of a woman or a child. The suspected culprit was the newly appointed company commander.
The target was probably Krang. This was all he knew. It was enough.
It wasn't him they were after, and all he had to do was make a scene. Watching the changing of the night watch, Enkrid got to his feet.
“Haaah, need a piss?” a soldier on guard asked with a yawn.
“No, just can’t sleep.”
“Heard you’re returning to the main unit tomorrow?”
The soldier on night watch offered a slight smile. He was a soldier with freckles, droopy eyes, and a gentle face. Enkrid held the rank of Squad Leader, so he was of a higher rank than a regular soldier.
“That’s right.”
“Too nervous to sleep?”
“No, the moon is just bright.”
At Enkrid’s words, the freckled soldier lifted his head to the sky. It was a pitch-black night. The clouds had thoroughly hidden the moonlight.
Though a few bright stars twinkled in the distance, the darkness was so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of you without a torch.
“The moon?”
“Just kidding.”
As he spoke, Enkrid glanced at the night watch at the next tent. No matter how much you enforced discipline, soldiers like that were bound to appear. He could see a sentry leaning against a tent pole, dozing off.
“Haha.”
The freckled soldier let out a stiff laugh.
“Actually, the torchlight is so bright I can’t sleep.”
“You must be sensitive.”
“I’ve been that way since I was young.”
It wasn't an empty platitude. Enkrid was more sensitive than the average person. He heard well, had a keen sense of smell, and could distinguish tastes well.
His five senses were sharp.
‘And yet, I’ve been taken down twice without even noticing.’
The opponent was exceptionally skilled in stealth. Then again, if an assassin wasn't confident in their stealth and infiltration, what would they be confident in? It was dark.
Watching the stars in the night sky and the flames burning on the torches, Enkrid exchanged a few more idle words. Stories about where their hometowns were, how they ended up in the army. The freckled soldier, without any hesitation, rambled on about his story.
Enkrid didn't listen closely. He was on high alert, his senses focused behind him even as he spoke. All the while, he kept touching the area around his neck.
‘It was a direct hit to the neck, that’s why the poison took effect immediately.’
If he had been hit in the arm, he would have had plenty of time to react.
Preparation.
If he was awake, he would surely have enough time to shout…
“Laura said she’d wait for me…”
The freckled soldier was in the middle of talking about his girlfriend back home. In that instant, thwump– something pierced through the freckled soldier’s neck.
‘A blade!’
A blade, as long as a finger, protruded from the front of his neck. Blood didn't gush out. Until that blade was pulled out, it would serve to staunch the bleeding.
The freckled soldier staggered sideways, and before he knew it, his mouth was covered as he collapsed without a sound. Whizz– And something flew towards Enkrid. It all happened in a single breath.
Enkrid reacted too. He instinctively covered his neck with his hand. A poison needle lodged itself in the back of his hand with a soft thwip.
Now was the time to scream. There’s an assassin here!
An attack! Or something.
At the very least.
Aaaaaaah!
Even a meaningless scream like that would have been enough.
But then. Thump.
Something covered his mouth. No sound, no warning. Enkrid felt someone grab his neck and twist.
Crack.
After that, he felt a searing pain at the back of his neck as a blade slid in. He had been stabbed so many times that he could now roughly gauge the depth of the blade and the severity of the wound just by the sensation. An injury like this, he wouldn't last long before dying.
Enkrid collapsed to the ground, stabbed. Warm blood flowed from his neck, soaking his chest. The opponent did not deliver a final blow.
Enkrid didn't have the strength to check on the situation over there.
‘Krang? Platoon Leader Benzens?’
Coughing up blood that was like his very life force, Enkrid checked on the two sprawled out in front of him. One was the freckled soldier. Dead, with his throat pierced.
Blood gurgled out, soaking the tent floor.
‘What was that fellow’s name?’
They had talked about so many things, but he hadn't focused on a single one. Inside the tent entrance, Platoon Leader Benzens was also visible. He was sprawled out as well, eyes wide open as if he had been strangled.
But Krang was nowhere to be seen. Enkrid summoned his last ounce of strength, lifted his head, and cast his gaze inside the tent. The movement caused the embedded blade to shift, bringing with it excruciating pain.
“Guh…heuk.”
A groan escaped him involuntarily. Still, he stubbornly forced himself to look. He saw a woman with a slender figure.
Behind a torn section of the tent, he saw a female elf blocking the way.
‘So it was you.’
The newly appointed company commander. Even with his poor eye for people, he couldn't fail to recognize her.
“Already taken…”
Another voice mixed in. That was the end of his memory.
“Sir Cyprus! Sir Cyprus!”
The today began again.
‘Damn it all.’
A hollow, defeated laugh escaped him. The opponent was an assassin. Heart of the Beast, Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship, none of it mattered.
There was nothing he could do. He had to face them and fight to do anything at all. But they didn’t say a word, just stabbed him in the neck and fired poison needles from the get-go.
He kicked off his blanket and shot up from his spot.
“Have you gone mad first thing in the morning?” asked Platoon Leader Benzens, the discarded blanket half-covering his head.
“Ah, no, sir.”
That wasn't what was important.
“Alright, let’s see you die. This is insubordination, isn’t it?”
Enkrid ignored Benzens, who was limping to his feet, and went outside.
“Hey! Are you running away? You bastard? You’re dead if I catch you!”
Behind Benzens’s shout.
“What’s all this noise so early in the morning?”
Came the voice of a waking Krang. The same day repeats again.
‘Let’s have a go, Mr. Assassin.’
Enkrid prepared for the fourth night. This time, he brought a few daggers with him. He also coaxed the freckled soldier to come inside the tent.
“The people we need to protect are all in here, right?”
Persuading him was easy. The simple country youth fell for Enkrid’s words hook, line, and sinker. He brought one of the torches inside and set it up.
The inside of the tent became much brighter.
‘Alright, assassins. Can you work your magic in a place this bright?’
They could.
He didn't know when they snuck in. He didn't know how they got so close. An assassin dropped from the top of the tent.
The falling shadow stuck poison needles into the necks of the freckled soldier and Enkrid. Just before he died, Enkrid saw the tent being sliced open with a crisp sound. A white blade.
A dark figure beyond it. Thanks to the torch he had brought inside, the light flickered and illuminated the opponent’s face. It was the newly appointed company commander.
“Sir Cyprus! Sir Cyprus!”
The fifth today dawned.
“Alright then.”
He knew it was coming, yet he was still caught. That was the fourth time. He became stubborn.
He tried again in a similar fashion, but this time he focused every nerve in his body. The result was not much different. The cots in this tent were raised off the ground.
A black shadow shot out from underneath and threw short arrows. A type of throwing dart. The arrowheads were coated in poison.
A potent poison. A completely different dimension of agony from being stabbed to death overcame him. It felt like ants were chewing away at his heart.
His breath hitched, and he couldn't breathe. Thus, he died without being able to do anything. The sixth today was similar.
There were small changes here and there. Just before dying, he heard the group of assassins say something.
“You, ho…”
“You are…”
“This is a warn…”
“Fair…”
Of course, hearing that changed nothing. He couldn't understand a single thing. At best, it was just a few words.
No matter how he tried to piece them together in his head, no answer came. Fueled by his stubbornness, Enkrid tried all sorts of things. Never giving up was a virtue, but in a situation like this, it could also be a disadvantage.
The saying that a fool's body suffers is a truth as old as time. Endless challenges are not always the answer. Fortunately, Enkrid was no idiot.
Twenty failures.
‘Even shouting is impossible.’
That’s how skilled the assassin was. One time, he even tried shouting "Attack!" before the opponent could even attempt anything. Soldiers from the surrounding tents gathered where Enkrid was.
He saw Krang rubbing his eyes as he woke up. It was roughly after the third night watch had arrived. It could be called a preemptive strike, timed just right.
“Attack? Where?”
In the end, he just got his shin kicked by the platoon leader from the next unit. If you shout first, nothing happens? Would this mean he could just let today pass?
If so, a kicked shin was nothing. After the commotion died down and Enkrid made up an excuse about having a nightmare.
“How did you know?”
For the first time, Enkrid heard an assassin’s voice. It was a man with a raspy, metallic voice. And then he died.
With a blade in his neck. If there was that attempt, there were others too.
“Platoon Leader Benzens. Are you perhaps getting worked up because of me?”
“What, the fuck?”
“It’s not me, it’s Krang, isn’t it? It’s because Krang keeps spouting nonsense, right?”
Enkrid tried to get their attention and warn them with some light talk.
“Assassins will come. Tonight.”
“... Go crazy quietly, you lunatic.”
Benzens didn't believe him.
“Do you have a secret birthright? You? Why would assassins come?”
Krang didn't believe him either. They were men of little faith. It was a failure.
The attempts were varied, but the reason for failure was similar.
‘Lack of skill.’
It could all be boiled down to one reason. The assassins were too skilled. He had to find a way.
Heart of the Beast, Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Neither was of any help right now.
‘Bring Rem over during the night?’
Could that be a solution? If it were Rem, or perhaps other squad members, they wouldn’t be taken down so easily.
‘As long as it’s not Big Eyes.’
They wouldn't be defeated. But how could he bring them over? There was no way.
He was just a squad leader, and they were just soldiers. Regardless of skill, that was their rank. What if he spoke to the platoon leader in charge of the medic platoon?
‘As if he’d listen.’
What excuse would he give? There are things that can be done and things that cannot. Bringing his squad members was impossible.
Then was there another way?
There was.
The repetition of the same today. Enkrid knew the time and place to see Big Eyes.
‘Should I ask for advice?’
All his squad members were terrifyingly talented.
‘Even if I can’t bring them here.’
He could at least hear their opinions. It was a better method than stubbornly persisting. Enkrid got up to meet Big Eyes.
“Where are you going?”
Platoon Leader Benzens asked from behind. Krang had also been gone since morning. With Enkrid leaving too, he must have asked.
Enkrid inwardly tilted his head and answered the question with a question.
“Feeling lonely?”
“What, the fuck?”
“Never mind then.”
“Hey, you, son of a…”
Ignoring him, he walked out.
“Just you wait until I’m better!”
Platoon Leader Benzens shouted from inside the tent. Enkrid cleaned his ear. Finding Big Eyes wasn't difficult.
His expression was terribly foul, though. But what did Big Eyes’s expression matter? Enkrid was repeating today twenty times without even seeing his opponent's face.
“Big Eyes.”
Big Eyes, who had been walking hurriedly somewhere, turned his head at the call. He furrowed his brow, then spotted Enkrid.
“Squad Leader? You’re all better now?”
“Can we talk for a moment?”
“Ah, I’m a bit busy. If, uh, you need someone to talk to, Jacksen’s over there.”
Big Eyes seemed genuinely busy. He pointed behind him with his thumb and quickened his pace. There was no time to stop him.
In any case, his goal wasn't Big Eyes himself but to have him call another squad member. Enkrid headed towards the tent Big Eyes had indicated with his finger. It wasn’t a large tent but a small one.
It was a supply repair tent, one of the less frequently used ones. A tent where broken supplies were gathered, so people rarely came by. It was a small tent between those supply repair tents.
It looked like it would be a tight fit for even two people.
“Squad Leader?”
Jacksen was there. A squad member with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes tinged with red. He offered a simple smile.
And according to Rem’s assessment. The shadiest one of them all. He had also said he was a perverted bastard who enjoyed poking and stabbing at openings rather than facing an opponent head-on.
Scratch.
Enkrid scratched his head with his finger and asked. It seemed he had come at an inconvenient time.
“You have a moment?”
Jacksen nodded nonchalantly. Behind him, from between the tents, a woman with curly yellow hair peeked her head out before quickly ducking back in.
“I’m all done with my business.”
Jacksen stood up, his completely unbuttoned shirt draped over his shoulders.