‘I should have dodged it there.’
Enkrid mulled over the yesterday that was today, a day that existed only for him.
‘No, dodging wasn't the problem. I was too fixated on a single strike.’
Dodge what you must, strike what you can. Hadn't he heard time and again how crucial split-second decisions were? From countless swordsmanship masters, and from Rem as well.
“What good is seeing well thanks to the Heart of the Beast? If you make the wrong choice, you're just headed for the grave.”
It felt as if Rem were standing beside him, cackling and sneering. That bastard Rem would surely have said something like that if he knew. Enkrid replayed the moment again and again.
‘Today, I'll take a slightly different route.’
He changed the path every day. It was a privilege of one who possessed a repeating today.
“We're going to catch the enemy reconnaissance team beyond this field of grass. What do you think?”
Today, as always, the Recon Squad Leader was leading everyone to their doom. He had not the slightest intention of stopping him. No, Enkrid knew that changing the reconnaissance route was pointless.
It was the same no matter which different route they took.
‘It means this entire area is already full of ambushing troops.’
The enemy was concentrated around the tall-grass field. If he wanted to survive, the answer was to return to the main unit the moment he opened his eyes.
‘But there's no way that's possible.’
Doing so would be disobeying orders. Insubordination, if severe, could even lead to summary execution. So then, was he supposed to abandon these nine men and desert alone?
Was that how he was supposed to survive?
‘Is this why I learned the sword?’
Knight, general, hero. Even now, he swung his sword dreaming of such things. But was leaving these men to be slaughtered, knowing it would happen, the right answer?
Was that truly the best choice?
‘No.’ Everyone has something they cannot compromise on.
Enkrid knew he was neither a good man nor a saint. But this was something he could not yield on. Some would call this conviction.
Others would call it stubbornness. And Enkrid wouldn't care what others called it.
‘This is my decision.’
If he had lived his life according to standards set by others, he would have long since given up on everything and snagged a loafer's position in the town watch of some quiet village. He discarded the option of escape. His goal was to find another way to break free from today.
He fights again. He bleeds and kills enemy soldiers. This time, his sword broke while he used it as a shield.
The shaft of a spear struck his head. The world spun. Naturally, death followed.
He didn't know for sure if the cause was the spearhead piercing his chest or his skull being cracked by the shaft. It repeats again. He dies, and dies again.
By repeatedly experiencing life-or-death combat, he digested what he had learned through sparring. He reviewed what he already knew. Throughout all that time, Enkrid kept just two things in his mind.
One, how could he fight better. Two, how could he escape this today. To move on to tomorrow.
Enkrid knew that reaching that moment required relentless effort. After all, he had overcome two "todays" that way. But this time, things were a little different.
‘I can't see a way out.’
Everywhere he went, there were only enemy soldiers. Grasshoppers and katydids, insects, eye-covering tall grass, and damp, muddy ground—what could possibly be so good about this place to warrant ambushing with such a large force? It was a mystery.
‘Tenacious bastards.’
And what's more, every one of them was a properly trained soldier. They weren't some run-of-the-mill mercenaries fighting for pay. Nor were they conscripts dragged out against their will.
They were all salaried soldiers. And some would even consider a group of soldiers like this to be elite troops. On a large-scale battlefield, the term "elite" might have a different meaning.
But on a battlefield of this size, professional soldiers were indeed elite. If soldiers who do nothing but fill their bellies and practice swinging spears aren't elite, then what kind of soldier could be called elite?
‘This is a headache.’
In a surprise attack, he could kill three or maybe four. But any more than that was impossible. And fighting while fleeing with a group of soldiers armed with crossbows at his back was even more impossible.
‘The martial strength to kill them all.’
If he repeated this day over and over, would it be possible? To attain such strength? No, that's not it.
He knew because he had tried. The first "today" he repeated, what was it that allowed him to overcome that enemy lancer and move on to tomorrow?
‘There's a limit to what you can learn in stagnant time.’
Enkrid knew himself well. To improve his skills and feel the thrill of growth, he needed a good teacher and a catalyst. That wasn't to say he was spending these repeating todays in vain.
Hearing training, swordsmanship, combat reviews. He repeated them again and again. It was faint, but his growth was continuing.
“I'm confident in my archery, but I'm faint of heart, so my hands tremble in a chaotic battle.”
Enri said from beside him. He had heard this several times already. He claimed to be faint of heart, but that his archery skill was still quite decent.
“Are you good enough to hit an apple on someone's head from a hundred paces?”
He threw out a joke to lighten the mood.
“A hundred paces is impossible, but within thirty is worth a try. If you go place an apple on that Recon Squad Leader's head, I'll give it a shot.”
“A shame, I don't have an apple.”
“Indeed, what a shame.”
Enri knew how to enjoy a joke.
“But seriously, within thirty paces, I'm quite confident. I don't know about an apple on his head, but hitting his head itself.”
Enri added.
His face was quite serious.
“If you hit them in the head one by one with your arrows, you could probably take down ten enemies.”
Enkrid said, glancing at Enri's quiver. The flat leather quiver tied at his waist held about ten arrows. It was secured with a leather strap wrapped around his thigh and waist to keep it from shaking, and that strap was in turn used to bundle the ten arrows together.
Later, he could just loosen the strap to draw and use them easily. As befitting a former prairie hunter, Enri seemed adept at both handling the bow and moving with his arrows.
“Hey. What are you snickering about? We're on a reconnaissance mission. Honestly, tsk.”
Up ahead, the Recon Squad Leader glared at them. He clicked his tongue. Of course, Enkrid paid him no mind.
In the repeating today, there had been several times when that little punk had interjected with a comment.
‘It would be great if we could start by taking down two or so with arrows.’
A stern-faced soldier walking behind the squad leader shot Enkrid a look. It seemed to mean 'Don't answer, just let it be.' Same as before.
There was no need to get worked up, so there was no point in arguing.
‘Then it would be much easier to launch a surprise attack from our side.’
A virtual battle unfolded in Enkrid's mind. The information gathered through the repeating today allowed him to simulate a fairly plausible battle in his head. In the end, he dies.
He would die, more often than not. Even if there was a clear difference in skill with the opponent, the difference in numbers was too great. It might be different if their equipment was superior.
‘But that's not the case either.’
What would Rem have done? He wouldn't have even hesitated. He would have charged in with an axe in each hand and swung them wildly.
With Rem's skill, he might not be able to kill all one hundred of them. But it would be possible for him to kill as many as he could and then escape. He was that agile and possessed that much unconventional skill.
‘It's funny that a guy like that is just a common soldier.’
Not that Rem himself seemed to have any complaints. In a way, it seemed he was the only one in the troublemaker squad with any ambition. It seemed he was the only one who wanted to become more than a Squad Leader.
What was the point of thinking about a squad member who wasn't even here? Enkrid corrected his train of thought. A slender snake slithered through the short grass.
The grass underfoot was gradually growing taller. It was proof that they were approaching the tall-grass field.
‘I'm not Rem.’
He pictured the virtual battle in his mind again. And then, a thought occurred to him.
‘How skilled is the squad leader?’
Until now, he had been too preoccupied to get a proper look. He had only registered him as 'not bad'. The Recon Squad Leader, the stern-faced soldier, and Enri.
And the rest of the reconnaissance squad members. One thought led to another until he found an answer.
“I don't need to protect them.”
“... Pardon?”
Enri, beside him, asked in response to the words that had slipped out unconsciously.
“It's nothing.”
He had been foolish. Until now, Enkrid had been trying to break through this alone. He had fought with the mindset of protecting everyone by himself, and had reacted passively to the moment of encounter with the enemy.
Therefore, though he thought he had tried every means possible until now, there was one left. A means that could change the entire game.
Crack, crack.
Enkrid cracked his neck from side to side. There was still some time before they reached the field. Enkrid strode forward, grabbed the stern-faced soldier by the shoulder, and pulled.
“Hm?”
The man reflexively tensed his body.
“What is it?”
“You glared at me earlier, didn't you?”
He knew.
It wasn't a glare, but a glance asking for his understanding. But for a friend whose face was a weapon, just looking was the same as glaring.
“No, hey, that's not it.”
“Why's your tongue so long?”
Whoosh!
Enkrid swung his fist. The stern-faced soldier leaned his head back and dodged.
“... What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
The Recon Squad Leader asked from the front, his voice filled with disbelief.
“Come at me.”
Enkrid ignored him and kicked at the opponent's ankle. The stern-faced soldier managed to dodge that too, and frowned.
“I thought you were a guy with some sense.”
“I do have sense. That's how I read that disagreeable look in your eyes, isn't it?”
Rem had admitted it. When it came to getting under people's skin with words, Enkrid might be the best on the continent.
“I said come at me, you ugly bastard who wouldn't even get a second look from a passing cow.”
And sure enough, it worked. With just a few words, the face of the soldier, who exuded an air of experience, turned red.
“Alright, you're asking for a beating.”
Enkrid fought him. Instead of drawing his sword, he used his fists as blades and his feet as clubs. The blows they exchanged were roughly even.
No, to be honest, he was being pushed back a little.
‘He fights well.’
By the kingdom's standards, he was at least at the level of transitioning from mid-rank to high-rank.
“I thought you were a bottom-rank soldier?”
The soldier with a face that looked like he'd repeatedly fail at mating asked, spitting blood from his split lip.
“That's right. Bottom-rank.”
“They say you get more pay and stuff if you get promoted, so what are you doing staying at that rank?”
Enkrid knew it too. He knew he wasn't at the level of a bottom-rank soldier. He hadn't been bottom-rank even when he first joined the army.
He just never felt the need to raise his rank. Because he knew his own skills and limits clearly. There was no need to attach the label of a low-rank soldier.
Of course, things were a bit different now. If the opportunity arose, he would seek promotion. However, he just didn't think it was his top priority.
The standards that separated third-rate, second-rate, and first-rate mercenaries. Or the standards that divided the ranks of soldiers here. What did any of that matter?
“You fight well.”
Enkrid was genuinely impressed. Yes, this was the level he needed. His skill was even better than he had expected.
He was likely the type to fight even better in a real battle. If only he had a proper chance to fight.
“What do you think you're doing?”
It was the Recon Squad Leader, his face turning red and purple as he watched them fight. He glared and opened his mouth. He looked ready to pounce on Enkrid at any moment.
Before he could, Enkrid spoke first.
“Sparring. It was a perfect warm-up.”
At the response, which was beyond shameless and bordered on confident, the Recon Squad Leader started to say something but stopped. It was enough to leave one speechless.
“Just let it be. It's not like there were any hard feelings.”
The stern-faced soldier stopped the squad leader.
Enkrid shrugged.
“Watch your mouth, troublemaker squad leader. That tongue of yours will get you in trouble one day.”
“That's my problem to worry about.”
Enkrid replied and turned to return to his spot. Enri came up close beside him, looked at his swollen cheekbone, and said, “Didn't you say you were a bottom-rank soldier?”
“I am.”
Was it really that surprising to everyone? Several of the other reconnaissance squad members were also stealing glances at Enkrid.
“You fought so well.”
“I've trained hard.”
It wasn't untrue. Hadn't he been training relentlessly through the repeating today? Despite the commotion, the Recon Squad Leader stubbornly entered the tall-grass field.
It was as if he had hidden a pot of honey in there. If not that, then perhaps a lover.
Hiss! Crunch.
Hearing the same sound, he once again sensed the enemy approaching. He greeted a new today. This was the beginning.
“Enemy.”
Enkrid said through his split lip, nudging Enri.
“Over there, shoot.”
He wanted to see his archery skills. Enri did not react immediately.
“Pardon?”
It seemed he had frozen stiff at the word "enemy." Even after that, he never saw him shoot his bow properly. Maybe he was faint of heart as he said, or maybe he was just too busy scrambling around once the battle started.
Still, watching him fire a few shots in rapid succession, his form seemed to be there.
‘This won't work with me as just a squad member.’
The people moving with him needed to react to orders, but he hadn't established that kind of relationship with them. Enkrid thought about his own position.
‘For now, I'll put this aside too.’
In the end, he repeated a similar process. The process of struggling desperately and dying. Enkrid repeated "today" a few more times.
In the process, he was also able to confirm the squad leader's skill. It wasn't bad. He had the air of someone who had learned proper swordsmanship somewhere.
“I'll accept your challenge anytime.”
After picking fights with him a few times during the repeating day, playing along appropriately and letting him win, the kid got a little excited. Enkrid faced the squad leader several times, memorizing his habits and patterns.
‘He lacks real combat experience.’
That was probably why the stern-faced soldier stuck to him like a nanny. Then what was the relationship between the two? He asked casually.
“The son of a man I once respected.”
The stern-faced soldier spat out the words. This guy, he was a man overflowing with loyalty. His entire reason for being here was for that punk.
He was a real nanny.
“A noble?”
“Don't you know that fallen nobles aren't treated as nobles?”
The Recon Squad Leader was a fallen noble.
“I see.”
Enkrid dismissed the rest of their conversation as unimportant and looked at the sun hanging overhead. It was the noon sun. The wind was moderately cool.
It was neither hot nor cold. The scouts were all in light armor. It was natural if they were to move nimbly.
Simple armaments and light armor. That was the standard. He organized his thoughts on his allies' equipment, skills, and everything they possessed.
He had to be aware of everything else as well. Enkrid took everything he knew about the current situation and stored it in his mind. Weather, wind, location, situation, allies, and enemies.
If he could move all these pieces proactively, an opening, it seemed, would appear.