The same as yesterday.
‘A dream?’
It was so vivid, was that a dream? Enkrid was dazed. Whether it was a dream, or if it was real.
He spent a day much like the one before, and once again faced the battlefield. Another chaotic battle. Fighting in a similar spot, he reflexively felt as if an illusion was overlapping with reality.
‘Didn't this happen yesterday, too?’
He thought, then shook his head. A stray thought. It must have been a dream.
Was he lucky enough to have a prophetic dream?
‘Is having a prophetic dream a matter of luck?’
He didn't know. There was no way to know. Enkrid was confused.
Especially when the oil-soaked shield shattered.
“Damn it, I almost died.”
When Bell said those words, it felt even more real.
“Bell, did your head split open and you lost your mind?”
He reflexively spat out the words he remembered.
“What kind of crazy talk is that?”
Bell got up clumsily. Enkrid looked at Bell and thought. Bell would die soon.
Should he just watch? He just watched. Because it all felt so unreal, he let it be.
A flash of light burst Bell's head, and an eyeball flew out, once again striking Enkrid's chest.
“What are you doing, spacing out?”
Rem saved him again.
“What?”
“Have you finally gone mad?”
Rem twirled a finger by his ear. Enkrid could see the axe in his hand.
“Some bastard nicknamed Hawk's Chick or Hawk's Talon is coming today, and I have to go catch him, so get your head on straight. Tch, I'm getting anxious. If I leave you like this, you look like you'll die in an instant.”
“Worry about yourself.”
As he spoke reflexively, Rem tilted his head but started to leave.
“I told you to focus, you really don't listen.”
Muttering this, Rem left. In his left hand, instead of a shield, he picked up an axe that had fallen to the ground, and with a sword in his right, he stood on the battlefield. He felt uneasy.
And so, he endured. An enemy soldier in front of him closed the distance. It was instantaneous.
He was someone who knew how to use his feet. One of his sword instructors had said something like that. That seventy percent of swordsmanship was footwork.
Seeing the blade, Enkrid once again faced the moment of death. In that fleeting moment, his concentration flared. He saw a point.
The point shrank, then quickly grew. Enkrid watched it until the very end. Until that point became a blade and pierced his throat.
‘Ah.’
No scream or groan came out. Because his throat was pierced. Only a hissing sound of air escaping came from his throat.
Terrible pain spread from his throat throughout his entire body. Enkrid clutched his neck and collapsed to the ground. As he gurgled blood.
“A mercy.”
The enemy soldier who had been watching him for a moment said, and stabbed his head with the tip of his sword. With that, darkness came again. And Enkrid heard it again.
Clang, clang, clang. The sound of a ladle hitting a pot.
“I'd like to ask why you have that look in your eyes first thing in the morning.”
It was Rem, next to him. He said, holding his boots.
Another day.
The same day.
‘A dream?’
“Did you have a shitty dream or something?”
“Yeah, a dream, right?”
“Ah, shit, a bug.”
Rem shook the bug out of his boot, spat phlegm on it, and stomped it. It was the third time he had seen this scene. Enkrid didn't put on his boots or his gear.
He just sat there motionlessly.
‘This is a dream?’
The day began again. Bell died, and Rem saved him. Rem left to find the archer nicknamed after a part of a hawk's body.
The skilled enemy swordsman blocked his path.
“What are you?”
Enkrid asked.
The enemy thrust his sword without answering. A thrust that drew admiration every time he saw it.
Thump.
His heart beat. His concentration focused. Enkrid could see the tip of the sword more clearly than before.
He twisted his body to dodge.
Drrrk!
He didn't get a good result. The elegant thrust failed to pierce Enkrid's throat, but it tore a large chunk from the side of his neck. A searing pain spread from his nape throughout his body.
He collapsed to the ground again. Blood gushed out with a gurgle.
“A mercy.”
The blade fell toward his head. Clang, clang, clang!
“Agh!”
He shot up with a scream. The pain was vivid. Enkrid stroked his neck.
“A nightmare? Did a witch take your virginity?”
Rem cracked a tasteless joke.
“There's a bug in your boot.”
Enkrid said, covering half his face with his hand. The pain of death was one thing. But he had no idea what was happening.
“What? What, how did you know that?”
Rem threw the bug from his boot onto the ground, spat on it, and stomped it.
“Just did.”
“Were you a prophet?”
“No.” He said, waving his hand.
Enkrid finished preparing as usual, but stopped on his way out.
“Rem.”
“What is it?”
“My head hurts too much. Get your own meal, and if anyone asks for me, tell them I'm sick in the barracks.”
“If you just want to be lazy.”
Rem chuckled.
He was a friend who laughed easily. What if this wasn't a dream? What if it was repeating after he died?
Could that be right? Could something like this happen? Enkrid needed time to sort out his thoughts.
He went back inside the barracks, took off his gear, and sat down. He thought and thought. How could something like this happen?
‘The cause?’
Something came to mind, and he fumbled through his clothes. It wasn't there. The necklace he received from the slash-and-burn village chief was gone.
‘Is that the reason?’
A longing? A wish?
‘A blessing?’
No, could this be called a blessing? It was just a day repeating itself. Besides, while Enkrid had heard a thing or two about blessing-type artifacts, he had never heard or seen a case like this.
‘Isn't this closer to a curse than a blessing?’
Thinking, Enkrid stroked his neck. It hurt so damn much. It was horribly painful every time he died.
His head felt like it would explode from the complicated thoughts. After skipping lunch, Rem came in with some food.
“What's gotten into you? Do you really just want to be lazy?”
His eyes said he couldn't believe it. Enkrid was known around here as a hard worker.
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Enkrid nodded twice.
“That's a surprise. Well then, get some rest. They say there's a battle late this afternoon, so rest well. I'll make a good excuse for you, so pull yourself together by then.”
Rem left. Time passed.
There was no way to sort out his thoughts. This wasn't the kind of thing that could be sorted out just by thinking about it.
Aaaah!
He heard shouts. The ground rumbled. The battle had begun.
Enkrid had no intention of going out. If he did, he would die by that thrust. He tried to hold out like that.
But he couldn't hold out forever. As a disposable cog in the war machine, he couldn't just turn his back on the battlefield because he was sick.
“Everyone get ready and move out! It's battle!”
There was a patrolman making rounds inside the barracks. Enkrid put on his gear and went out. He fought again.
He fought much further in the rear than yesterday. He tried to endure without seeing Bell or Rem. Whoosh- the front line wavered.
The enemy's movements were unusual. The allied forces were pushed back. Before he knew it, Enkrid was on the front line.
And he met that man again. Was this coincidence, or fate? He didn't know.
But one thing was certain: wherever he went on the battlefield, he would either die or meet this fellow. Therefore, it was time to think not about 'why,' but 'how.' Not to find out why they met, but how to survive.
The thrust.
The blade flew at him.
‘What was the name of that technique?’
Rem had once spoken of a technique while telling him to focus. He had said that if you knew just this one thing, you wouldn't die so easily on the battlefield. He had also said that even if you're trapped in a monster's den, you must calmly catch your breath.
This thing Enkrid was trying now was what Rem had taught him. He'd called it some kind of heart. The name flickered at the edge of his mind.
That skill, whose name he couldn't even remember, once again shone. Enkrid watched the blade and realized he was holding his breath.
Thump.
His heart pounded. The blade's timing and angle as it dug into his throat. He threw himself to the side.
He rolled unsightly on the ground, but he lived. His joy was short-lived.
Thwack!
An impact on the back of his head was followed by terrible pain. His mind went blank. He didn't even realize he had collapsed to the ground.
Another enemy from behind had smashed his helmet with an axe. After taking that hit, he looked up with dazed eyes.
“A mercy.”
The thrusting bastard plunged his blade in again.
Thud.
Clang, clang, clang! He opened his eyes again. A repeating day.
‘Let's not think.’
Let's not think about whether the necklace is a blessing or a curse. Let's not think about what is happening. There were two things to think about now.
Surviving on the battlefield. And doing whatever it takes for that.
“There's a bug in your boot.”
“Huh? Are you a prophet?”
“What was that thing? The one you tried to teach me before.”
Blink, blink.
Rem blinked his eyes and then said.
“Heart of the Beast?”
That's right.
That was the name. Heart of the Beast. With the heart of a mere human, how could one keep their eyes wide open on a battlefield where spears, swords, and axes fly?
If you embrace the Heart of the Beast, you can, so do it. The words Rem had spoken came to mind.
“Teach me again.”
“Huh?”
Rem was flabbergasted. Enkrid understood him. Once, he had struggled to learn, and Rem, impressed by his passion, had struggled to teach.
In the end, Enkrid had gained nothing, and Rem had taught nothing. The foundation of the training was not to close one's eyes in a fleeting moment. But keeping one's eyes open until the verge of death was not something that could be done with ordinary courage.
It wasn't something that ended with just keeping your eyes open, either. In Enkrid's view, Rem's skill was better than most first-rate mercenaries. The gist of the training was to watch until his axe was about to halfway dig into your neck, then dodge.
“Let's do it, the training.”
Passion burned in Enkrid's eyes. A fire was lit in his chest.
‘What's the point of arguing if it's a blessing or a curse?’
He had no talent. He knew that. And time is fair to everyone.
Therefore, a dullard cannot defeat a genius. But what if time isn't fair? Even if it's a curse, it was fine.
This was a lifeline. A lifeline to move forward.
“Alright. I've been feeling drained lately, like a dog that lost its bone, but seeing you so full of energy today gives me strength too.”
Rem said as he got up.
“Right after breakfast.”
“Well, let's do that.”
They ate breakfast and washed their bowls. They exchanged some silly talk about dreaming of becoming a knight, and Rem laughed at it. After that, it was time for the lesson.
“Did you forget the training method?”
“Not at all.”
It was so impressive that Enkrid had even had nightmares about Rem's training. Nightmares of that damned axe splitting his neck.
“Let's go.”
The point of the training was simple. When the axe comes to cut your neck, keep your eyes wide open and dodge. If Rem made a mistake, Enkrid would die.
Normally, he couldn't do it properly out of fear. But now, the situation was a little different.
‘Even if I die, it's just clang, clang, clang again, right?’
It was time to lose all fear. The concentration he learned from his first death awakens the Heart of the Beast. Enkrid's heart began to beat.
The pounding of his startled heart became calm. A beast is not easily startled. The slowed heartbeat brings composure.
Composure, the core of the Heart of the Beast. A calm mind allows the eyes to capture the trajectory of the axe blade. He had been training his body tirelessly all this time.
Watching the trajectory and dodging was not difficult. The axe blade cut through the air. Enkrid timed it perfectly, pulling his right foot back and leaning his body away.
The axe passed before his eyes.
“... Have you been practicing behind my back?”
Rem asked.
“A little.”
“Good. That's good. But your timing was a little fast. You have to dodge right at the last second.”
It was training to thicken the skin of his heart. Rem swung the axe. Enkrid waited until the very moment the axe seemed about to slice his neck, then dodged.
“Heh, even in my tribe, there were only a few guys who could learn and do this. It's strange.”
The morning training was over. Rem patted Enkrid's shoulder.
“You did well. At this rate, you'll be able to handle the clumsy ones in a real fight.”
“What about opponents who are more than just clumsy?”
“What are you trying to ask?”
“What would it be like to face someone like that?”
“You're asking because you don't know?”
As Enkrid stared at him, Rem continued. His expression said, what's with this guy today?
“You run.”
Yes, run.
Facing an opponent stronger than yourself on the battlefield and clashing with them is madness. Enkrid had survived until now because he had good sense and knew his place.
And now.
“It would be even better to practice with an opponent who isn't clumsy, wouldn't it? This?”
“If you trained like that, even a hundred lives wouldn't be enough.”
Rem chuckled.
Hearing that laugh, Enkrid thought. He felt like he had just gained hundreds of lives. Blessing or curse.
‘If I can use it, I'll use it all.’
That's how Enkrid had lived his life until now. Since he had lived that way, he intended to do so now. That thrust, he would face it.
That was his intention. Wasn't he a good training partner? The pain of death was terrible, but the reward was just as great.
For the first time in over ten years, Enkrid felt the joy of growth. A joy that filled his heart completely. A sense of fulfillment that could not be compared even to a drug.