The company commander's emerald-green eyes filled with doubt as she listened to the platoon leader's report.
“With just ten men?”
The reports from the other squads on the reconnaissance mission were all unremarkable. The only incident was encountering Azpen’s infantry reconnaissance team on the plains, and instead of fighting, they had kept their distance and parted ways. It was natural for the Azpen side to operate reconnaissance teams as well, so encountering them on the plains wasn't a rare occurrence.
If anything, it was strange to have only run into them once. But what Enkrid’s squad had done was on a completely different level. The enemy was lying in ambush in the tall-grass field.
The enemy forces were up to something. Discovering that information was understandable. But to infiltrate the enemy camp with just ten soldiers and set it on fire...
‘What kind of bastard is he?’
Enkrid was at the center of it all. The previous incident with the assassin was the same. It seemed that wherever things got strangely tangled, that squad leader named Enkrid was there.
Should she see it as purely bad luck? But for someone with bad luck, he was surprisingly resilient. He didn't just exist; he repeatedly performed feats that weren't quite feats.
His skill was mediocre at best, yet the outcome of every incident exceeded expectations. Wasn't it thanks to that squad leader holding out during the assassin incident that the target was protected? What he had done this time was beyond words.
Just infiltrating the enemy camp and gathering intelligence was an act deserving of a hundred rewards, and even that wouldn't be enough.
“Yes, that is the report.”
The Platoon Leader replied. Ten men had infiltrated the enemy camp, only five had died, and the remaining five had returned with an unbelievable achievement. This wasn't the work of an elite special-grade unit raised by the Cyprus Division, but of ten men in a reconnaissance team led by a bottom-rank soldier.
The company commander was intrigued.
‘Enkrid, Enkrid.’
What in the world was this bastard? His skills were so-so, so how was this possible? It wasn't something to ponder too deeply.
‘Luck.’
She decided he was just lucky. If it wasn't luck, what else could it be? Unless he had somehow entered the enemy commander's mind and memorized all the unit positions.
That made even less sense. The theory that he was a spy raised by the Azpen Dukedom would be more plausible. But that didn't make sense either.
What kind of idiot would raise and send such a spy? A mere squad leader, a common soldier with terrible skills?
“Should I summon the squad leader to confirm the facts?”
“If he were stupid enough to lie about something like this, he would have been dead long ago.”
The company commander rested her chin on her fist and thought. Let's say that squad leader named Enkrid was just lucky. What were those Azpen bastards planning?
First, she had to report to the battalion commander. That was the proper order. She finished her thoughts and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
Who appointed this fool as a platoon leader? The company commander pushed the idiot aside and said, “I’m going to the battalion commander’s tent.” With something like this happening, reporting was the top priority, wasn't it?
Rem was bored. There were no minor skirmishes, and nothing much to do. Both armies were currently busy holding their positions, glaring at each other from their respective camps.
A rumor began to spread within the unit that the war would end just like this for now.
“Well, that's how it is. Winter is coming soon, and the battle on these plains isn't something that will end in one fell swoop, right? So they'll probably look to next year.”
That was what the sharp-eared Krais said. It was likely a conclusion he reached by gathering and piecing together the circulating rumors, rather than his own opinion. Rem didn't care what Krais babbled on about; he had no interest in such things.
That this battlefield repeated every year. That Azpen and Naurilia were on good terms in the past. Who gave a damn?
‘There's so damn little to do.’
He passed the time by idly sharpening his axe blade and even juggling it, but the fact remained that there was nothing to do. Rem was bored out of his mind. Everyone but him seemed to have something to do.
“What, you want cigarettes for that price? Are you crazy? Did an arrowhead get stuck in your head?”
On one side, Big Eyes was busy selling something or other. He said that since his income would drop for a while after the battle, he had to earn as much as he could now. He sure lived diligently.
“What? An arrowhead?”
Sometimes, there were guys who would glare at Big Eyes’ small frame. Rem had made a small hobby of threatening such guys. All he had to do was lick the freshly sharpened axe blade while staring at them.
He never sharpened the axe blade to be that sharp in the first place. If it were sharp enough to cut a finger at the slightest touch, the edge would chip easily. Unless it was touched by magic or a master craftsman, this was the proper way to maintain it.
So, licking the axe blade wouldn't cut his tongue.
“... An arrow did hit my helmet in the last battle.”
The guy who was about to cause trouble quickly tucked his tail between his legs.
“Cigarettes are hard to come by, you know. So, how many did you say you needed?”
Krais quickly raised his voice. He looked exactly like a merchant. That sneaky stray cat-like bastard, Jacksen, wandered outside rather than sticking around the barracks.
The preacher fellow was praying, then slammed his head on the floor with a terribly gloomy face. He was always muttering, ‘Oh Lord, give me an answer.’ Watching him made you want to keep your distance.
Didn't his actions just reek of a mad fanatic? Why the hell was that bastard always like that? The last one, that Ragna bastard, spent his time idly, sleeping whenever he could.
Wasn't he bored? He just kept spacing out and sleeping, spacing out and sleeping all day. Was that fun?
‘It's so boring without the squad leader.’
Rem complained inwardly. He wondered if the squad leader had kicked the bucket. Reconnaissance missions were dangerous.
And although the squad leader’s skills had improved a lot, by Rem’s standards, they were still embarrassingly poor. What if he had died? Then it would be a bit, no, a huge shame.
‘Tsk, have I grown fond of him in that time?’
From what he had observed, he was a man too precious to let die. But following him around to protect him would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? Who was that man to him?
Nothing.
Just a person he happened to meet and like.
‘A person I like?’
Come to think of it, such people were rare. How many of those had Rem met in his entire life? He thought it would be nice if he came back alive.
But he wasn't anxious. He wasn't the type to be taken down by some half-assed punks in the first place. At the end of all these miscellaneous thoughts, Rem could no longer stand the persistent boredom.
Whether the squad leader was dead or alive, he had to solve the boredom of this very moment.
“Hey, you want me to kill you?”
Rem chose a simple method. He nudged the idly lying Ragna with his foot and spoke. Ragna stared up at Rem.
His eyes asked what the hell this bastard was doing.
“Are you doing this because you want to die?”
Ragna was serious.
“I'm bored. Let's have a round.”
No more words were needed. Jacksen, who had briefly stopped by the barracks, saw the two and passed by, ignoring them. The preacher was busy slamming his head on the floor with his usual gloomy face.
Krais was not there. By mutual agreement, the two went outside.
Clang.
They lightly clashed axe and sword to signal the start of the fight. Then they began to swing their sword and axe at each other.
Whoosh!
Rem’s arm bent as his axe came crashing down menacingly. Ragna dodged the axe blade, twisting his body to thrust his sword. A sharp attack, twice as refined as the thrusts Squad Leader Enkrid had shown countless times, aimed for Rem’s abdomen.
Rem put all his strength into his toes and jumped back.
Thud.
A footprint was left where his foot had been. A fierce exchange that would have astonished anyone with a discerning eye took place. Enkrid arrived just as their battle was reaching its peak.
“Kill him!” an excited soldier shouted.
A large crowd had gathered to watch the two of them. Why was the troublemaker squad called the troublemaker squad? Because it was a collection of individuals who were problematic in many ways.
Then why did the army keep such a group of troublemakers? Naturally, it was because of their skill. With two of them showing off their skills, how could it not be a spectacle?
Cla-ang!
Dust rose around them as sword and axe met.
Hiss!
Despite it all, the two never took their eyes off each other.
Scraaaape.
The axe blade seemed to fall from above, then scraped the ground. Small pebbles flew up, scratched by the axe's edge. Ragna avoided the axe scraping below and brought his sword down from above.
Hwoong.
Even with his eyes wide open, the trajectory of the blade was invisible. The sword that had been above had somehow dropped and was slashing at Rem’s neck.
Cla-ang!
Axe and sword clashed there again. Sparks flew from the center of their weapons.
“Crazy.”
The Fourth Company’s Second Platoon Leader muttered. It was obvious they were several levels above him. A few other soldiers confident in their skills clicked their tongues in amazement.
There were even some who were on the verge of reaching the level of a high-rank soldier. They all felt the difference in skill. Of course, there were also those among them who tried to gauge the two’s skills.
‘I can do that much.’
‘If it were me, I would’ve finished it by now.’
These were thoughts they could have only because they mistakenly believed that what they were seeing was all the two had. And Enkrid stood frozen in place, his eyes wide. He couldn't hear any of the chatter around him.
At that moment, Enkrid’s eyes were solely focused on chasing their movements. In his mind, he was concentrating on facing their sword and axe. A drop of sweat trickled down the tip of Enkrid's nose.
Just watching and concentrating was enough to drench his entire body in sweat. Sometimes, one's skills could improve just by watching. Though no one intended it, Enkrid realized at that moment what he had to do.
‘The way I'm doing it now won't work.’
Everyone has a method that suits them. That applies to learning the sword and to training the body. And Enkrid had something that others didn't. The curse of repeating today.
The endlessly appearing wall the faceless ferryman spoke of. If so, he had to choose a new method suited for that, not ordinary training or practice. Watching their axe and sword, the method surfaced in Enkrid’s mind.
The excitement and realization came in a flash, and then cooled just as quickly, like a pot doused with cold water. The moment he saw their spar that wasn't quite a spar, Enkrid had to humbly admit it. He had never drawn out their true skills.
Neither Rem nor Ragna had ever shown such things while sparring with him. Beyond their power and speed, he could tell from their expressions. Rem was smiling.
He looked so thrilled. Ragna's expression was also full of life. It was a face not easily seen on a normal day.
How many todays had he repeated? How many times had he overcome the moment of death? And yet, right now, he couldn't seriously fight either of them.
That was his place. But he wasn't discouraged. If he were to give up over something like this, he would never have started in the first place.
Instead, he found it interesting. Because he now had a goal.
‘That expression.’
As he watched the two, a resolve formed within him to make them wear those same expressions even when facing him. Enkrid found this immensely satisfying. He could see a new path, and he had the time to walk it.
It was immensely, truly immensely enjoyable.
Tiriririring.
The axe and sword scraped against each other, letting out a strange sound. At the same time, Rem and Ragna created distance between them. Both were sweating quite a bit.
He could see the sweat running down Ragna's forehead. Hoo— Rem let out a breath and grinned.
“For a guy who does nothing but sleep all day, you’re not half bad.”
Ragna scoffed at his words.
“A barbarian who only bullies the weak has no right to judge.”
Unlike their sharp words, the two put away their sword and axe. They knew each other's condition well without having to say a word. To go any further from here would mean fighting for their lives.
If they were both worked up, that might have happened, but not now. It was a spar where they had both held something back. While fighting, the two had spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
It was their squad leader. This was proof that they had held back enough to survey their surroundings even while fighting.
“What’s the show? If you want to keep watching, you can play with me.”
When Rem suddenly said this, the crowd of onlookers quickly dispersed. Among the scattered people, only the grimy figure of Enkrid remained.
“You’re back?”
Rem greeted Enkrid. Ragna also acknowledged him with his eyes. The fight was over.
And Enkrid had also returned safely. Soon, Jacksen came out, combing his messy red hair with his fingers, and Krais ran over when he saw the squad leader.
“You’re here?”
“Squad Leader!”
“The Lord has watched over you.”
The preacher squad member also acknowledged him. A total of six members, the entirety of a squad that was supposed to be a ten-man squad. Becoming one of the six, Enkrid announced his return.