'It feels like setting tents on fire is becoming my specialty.' Enkrid thought to himself as he used a tree for cover and briefly explained the plan. None of the squad members added a word; they only listened.
By now, they were no different from an arrow that had already been shot. After that, Enkrid moved.
“I’m going first.”
He stepped forward so quietly that he made no sound. He then lowered his posture, eventually lying flat on the ground and crawling. All the squad members watched Enkrid crawl on the ground.
The plan he had given was simple. It was a simple trick: make noise in the east and strike in the west. The ones making the noise were Mac and all the remaining squad members.
Only three were excluded from the noise-making detail. Enkrid, Andrew, and the soldier who was a thug.
“I’ll do it.”
Mac took the initiative and volunteered for the role of drawing the soldiers' attention. He spoke readily, without complaint. Although Mac's attitude had changed suddenly, Enkrid didn't think much of it.
If he listens well, all the better. In the darkness, Mac stealthily loosened his body, picked up a stone, and threw it with all his might. The flying stone struck a soldier’s head.
Clang!
The stone bounced off the helmet, and the soldier who was hit let out a sharp scream.
“... The hell.”
“What was that!”
The four soldiers on guard turned in one direction. Enkrid held his breath and watched them. Words were unnecessary.
“Intruder!”
A soldier shouted. A commotion arose. And at that moment, Enkrid tried to press himself against the tent, but.
“You little rat.”
He was caught. There was no need to panic. He had learned this through several ‘todays’.
‘I can’t do it alone.’
Beside the tent, a soldier holding a spear glared at him. Enkrid rose to his feet before his opponent could charge. The dirt on his chest brushed off and fell to the ground.
Without even a battle cry, the soldier with his back to the torch stand thrust his spear. Watching the spear that flew out with a whoosh, Enkrid twisted his body to dodge it. No, it didn't end with just a dodge.
He made a gamble, staking about half his life. It was a mad act, one he could only attempt because the Heart of the Beast gave him boldness. He had moved forward while dodging.
The spearhead grazed his shoulder. It was a narrow escape. He felt a searing heat on his shoulder.
In return, Enkrid was able to get right in the enemy’s face. As soon as he closed the distance, he swung his sword upwards. The enemy soldier, seeing the blade, tried to lower his spear shaft to use it as a shield.
And Enkrid, with the knife he had held unseen in his left hand since his initial charge, stabbed toward the opponent’s collarbone.
Shunk!
The blade plunged in, splitting bone and flesh at the same time.
“Guh!”
The enemy soldier let out a groan. Enkrid then slammed his forehead into the bridge of the man's nose.
Thwack!
The soldier who was hit couldn't even groan as he fell backward. It was the Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship, the Three Sword Style. The first sword was a feint; the real attacks were the knife in his left hand and the headbutt.
It was for this that he had risked half his life to charge at the spear. The enemy soldier was down. But since he had already been discovered, setting fire to the barracks had become a distant goal.
For behind the fallen soldier, another had appeared, holding a torch and a sword. The man with a scar near his eye looked truly formidable. One could tell just from his gait and his demeanor.
He was no amateur.
“Pathetic.”
He said, clicking his tongue. His approaching steps were unhurried. He was looking at an attacker who had jumped out of the darkness, yet he showed not the slightest sign of fear.
“Hoo, took you long enough,” Enkrid muttered.
The man furrowed his brows at those words.
Fwoosh.
It came from behind the man. Flames were soaring. Sometime during the chaos, the tent had caught fire.
“... Out!”
The man shouted. Watching him, Enkrid leaped forward and thrust his sword. He pushed off the ground with his right foot and stamped down with his left.
“Everything starts with the feet.”
That was the foundation of swordsmanship that two squad members, Rem and Ragna, had told him in unison. Enkrid did just that.
Feet first.
He kicked off the ground and advanced. In an instant, the image of the soldier holding a sword and torch loomed large before him. His back was turned.
It was nothing but openings. Enkrid thrust his sword. It was a thrust filled with the elasticity of his entire body, the same thrust from the soldier who had killed Enkrid countless times in the beginning.
Whoosh.
The blade cut through the air and reached its destination. It was truly over in an instant. Among the countless thrusts he had performed until now, this one was the best.
Even across all the repeated todays. Enkrid thought he had killed his opponent. In Enkrid's focused eyes, objects seemed to move in slow motion.
Everything slowed.
His own sword, the man's hand. In the slowed world, the enemy soldier's hand twitched. Soon, the soldier’s sword shot up from below.
Clang! Shing!
Enkrid moved past the man as if thrown aside, clutching his stomach as he stopped. The enemy soldier, who had his head turned back, looked forward again. He looked at Enkrid and raised an eyebrow.
“You insolent bastard.”
The opponent looked furious. Of course, his anger wasn't the problem. The problem was his astonishing swordsmanship.
‘In that instant?’
The thrust had been perfect. More than satisfactory. It was a thrust that even Rem wouldn't have dared to block without that whip-like axe of hers.
But he dodged it. It left a faint cut on his neck, but it was far from a fatal wound; it was a mere scratch that could be disregarded. On the other hand, the sword the enemy had reflexively brought up had precisely cut Enkrid’s side.
It wasn't a deep wound. No bones were damaged. It wasn't enough to kill him, but still.
‘I was careless.’
And this was the result. And how familiar was this ‘today’ to Enkrid?
And still.
It felt as if a great river lay between him and the enemy soldier. The opponent could cross the river at any time to stab and cut him. While he felt as if he could do no more than barely dip his feet in the water.
A clear difference in skill existed between them. So what of it? Had he ever only fought opponents weaker than himself?
Enkrid calmed his breathing and gripped his sword. If this was today's turning point, he would simply do his best. The skill gap felt insurmountable.
But that changed nothing. If others felt that insurmountability as despair, as a cliff. Enkrid felt it as a staircase.
A staircase that he could one day step on and climb. A thrilling ecstasy filled him from the tips of his toes to his chest.
Behold.
How could repeating today be a curse? After overcoming countless todays, he would eventually be able to defeat that incredibly skilled man. He would, without a doubt.
He would never be content with today. And so, ecstasy welled up within him. Enkrid's feelings showed on his face.
“You’re smiling?”
The face of the sword-wielding enemy soldier contorted. If Enkrid felt ecstasy, this man showed only fury.
“I’ll rip you to shreds and throw you to the dogs.”
Enkrid had a premonition of death. Because right now, no matter what he did, this was an opponent he could not defeat. But that didn't mean he planned to go down quietly.
He prepared for the pain. He would not back down. Just as he gripped his sword and steeled his heart.
Fwoosh.
Behind the man, the flames soared upwards. As if to say the earlier flames were just a game, it looked as if a dragon was breathing fire. The flames had spread to the entire tent.
Crackle, crackle, embers scattered in all directions. Beyond the flames rising from the tent, several urgent voices were heard.
“These bastards! Put out the fire!”
“Someone poured oil, Platoon Leader!”
“The torch stand has fallen!”
Well now, they’re good at their jobs. Enkrid had drawn their attention twice to set this tent on fire. Once with Mac and the squad members.
The other time, by himself. The fire was set by Andrew and the thug squad member. The thug squad member had put the skills he'd learned causing trouble in the city to good use here.
“The flagpole is burning!”
A man shouted as he watched the flames soaring right next to the tent. He was a man with a strange tattoo on his face.
“Platoon Leader! Don't you know what's important right now!”
He rebuked the man standing before Enkrid. Watching this, Enkrid subtly stepped back. No matter how much his skills fell short of his opponent's, he wouldn't die in one or two sword strokes.
His opponent knew that too. He knew that if Enkrid was determined to hold out, he could last until those flames burned down the tent and the flagpole inside. Honestly, Enkrid couldn't understand why they were risking their lives for a few flagpoles.
He knew only one thing. That the enemy cherished them. Much more than the lives of a few of their own soldiers.
“You, just you wait.”
The opponent, the Platoon Leader of Azpen’s unit, glared at Enkrid before whirling around. He had judged that dealing with the bastards setting fires behind him was more urgent than dealing with Enkrid here. Enkrid let out an internal sigh of relief.
He truly felt as if he had died and come back to life. Dying was something he could never get used to, no matter how many times he experienced it while repeating today. If this too was a curse, then it was a curse indeed.
To have to experience that terrible moment over and over again. Of course, the agony that came from facing all that pain and death was not a big problem for Enkrid. If he could move forward through this.
If his skills could improve through this. Why wouldn't he be able to endure it?
“We have to go.”
As he was cautiously watching his surroundings, he heard Andrew's voice from behind. He glanced back to see Andrew's face was covered in soot.
“We're retreating,” Enkrid said and moved.
The thug soldier followed behind him. As they ran, Andrew took a flute from his chest and blew it.
Piiik, piiik!
After he blew two long notes, Mac came running from a distance, leading the remaining squad members. He saw that Enri was bleeding from his arm, and there were no more soldiers following Mac. The squad, which had started with ten, had been cut in half.
And the escape route Enkrid had wanted was now open.
“They're busy now, the enemy. There won't be a large pursuit team, right?”
Mac seemed to be asking if this was what he had been aiming for. As if to prove that his side had also had a rough time, his own forehead was cut. Blood was flowing from it.
“Probably,” Enkrid replied and quickened his pace.
Blood continued to flow from his side as well. He had thought it wasn't a deep wound, but since he kept running without stopping the bleeding, the blood showed no signs of stopping. For now, there was nothing he could do but press down on it with his hand and run.
From this point on, it was an unknown today, so Enkrid watched his back. There was a pursuit. Five of them were chasing them.
“These crazy bastards!”
They were relatively fresh. Their faces were sooty, but they were unwounded. For those five, Enkrid, Andrew, and Mac were enough.
Enri had a hole in her stomach and was staggering, perhaps due to blood loss. The thug squad member was supporting her and couldn't fight properly.
“Damn it, we're all going to die at this rate, get a grip!”
The thug soldier scolded Enri, but he didn't abandon her. Because he fought the pursuit team, Enkrid's side wound opened up more. Still, it wasn't life-threatening.
Mac had his thigh cut while killing two of the pursuing soldiers. But he took out a linen bandage, tied it around the wound, and followed without falling behind. Andrew seemed to have improved dramatically after just a few battles.
‘No, that's not it.’
Enkrid realized that his skills hadn't suddenly improved. It would be more correct to say that his original skills were coming out after experiencing the intensity of the battlefield. If Andrew's sword hadn't furiously swept through and killed two of the pursuers in an instant, their escape would have likely failed.
Or it would have been much harder. Blood seeped out again from the wound on Andrew's cheek. Everyone was a wreck, but they hadn't died.
As they ran all night, finding their direction, Enri spoke in a voice that sounded on the verge of death.
“If we go west from here, we'll reach the habitat of the plain foxes and snakes. They won't be able to chase us easily if we go there.”
This plain, called the Green Pearl, was home to various animals. Among them were foxes and snakes. However, while the foxes were one thing, many of the snakes were venomous, so it was dangerous.
“If we go there, we'll get bitten by vipers and die before we can shake off the enemy soldiers,” Mac said.
Then Enri opened her mouth with a faint smile.
“There is a place where the fox and snake habitats overlap. I know it. It's the boundary between their habitats, so it's fine. It's a hunter's path.”
Enkrid looked at Enri and thought how well he could smile while looking so pale. Guiding them in his state. His mental fortitude was also out of the ordinary.
Everyone looked at Enkrid. The decision was his to make.
“That way.”
Enkrid spoke and moved. There was no hesitation. As he walked, he became lost in other thoughts.
‘It's the first time I've seen him.’
The enemy Platoon Leader was deeply ingrained in his mind. If that Platoon Leader had appeared every time, he would have been too busy dying. But this was the first time.
He probably appeared because they had pushed the situation this far.
‘Or maybe not.’
Come to think of it, he felt like he had heard that voice before. It was from a time he had snuck into the burning barracks after repeating 'today' a few times before. When he barely managed to enter the barracks guarded by enemy soldiers, a strange sight had met his eyes.
A flagpole and a flag. A bowl from which strange smoke was rising, a man with his face covered in tattoos. He had wondered if they were performing some kind of divination.
But the opponent's reaction had been too fierce.
“Catch him!”
Hadn't he freaked out when Enkrid kicked the flagpole? That's when he realized. That this flagpole was something important to them.
And then, there was the one who had cut his neck from behind.
“What's this bastard?”
Come to think of it, he seemed to be the same man as the owner of that voice. Lost in thought, he walked under Enri's guidance, and his surroundings began to turn blue. A blue light enveloped the area from above, signaling the start of the day.
It was dawn. The sun had begun to rise. Enkrid realized that he had once again overcome 'today'.
As the sun rose and the surroundings brightened, Enkrid's reconnaissance team, which had been heading for the main unit, met the main reconnaissance party.
“What happened to you all?” the Recon Platoon Leader asked as soon as he saw them.
Enkrid had more urgent things to do than explain. More than one or two of them were injured. The report could wait until they were on their way back.
For now, it was enough that they were alive.
“Hoo, I'm going to pass out now,” Enri said from behind.
Enkrid didn't reply. Anything he said would be lost on someone who had already passed out.