Ragna was bewildered, but he soon gave up on thinking.
‘He was always a strange person.’
In his eyes, Enkrid was not a normal person either.
“Shall we start now?”
Enkrid asked.
“Let’s,” Ragna replied.
And so, under the clear sky, the two began anew, starting with how to hold a sword. No, they began by finding the right weapon.
“There’s no reason to use a light weapon when you have so much strength. Wouldn’t it be better to switch to a heavier longsword? Let’s trade.”
Ragna said, offering the sword at his hip. Enkrid thought it was an unconventional proposal. Does one normally hand over a weapon they’ve grown used to so easily?
“I haven’t used it long enough to get used to it myself,” Ragna added.
When he took it, he saw it wasn’t a particularly fine sword. The one he had been using seemed better, but he accepted it. The one teaching him now was Ragna.
He decided to follow his words.
“Understood.”
From an arming sword to a longsword. The handle was longer, allowing it to be wielded with two hands. The blade was also a handspan longer and weighed more.
That said, it wasn’t a shoddy sword. Though not made of the finest steel, its finish, including its center of balance, seemed decent.
“Right hand in front, left hand behind.”
After changing swords, they started anew, beginning with the grip. Enkrid was completely engrossed in that time. And it was the same for Ragna.
The Squad Leader’s presence alone was stimulating. Teaching him directly, his own motivation soared, and he became absorbed in the moment. The two spent their time like that until after noon.
They were so focused they only realized it long after skipping their meal.
“What’s this child’s play, skipping meals and all? What are you two doing?”
It was only after Rem arrived that Enkrid felt the passage of time.
“Come to think of it, I’m hungry,” Ragna muttered.
“You bastard, were you bullying our Squad Leader?”
“Get lost, barbarian.”
“You get lost, you lazy bastard.”
The two bickered. Enkrid, drenched in sweat, let his sword hang low. He was quite exhausted.
He had resolved to start anew, but it wasn’t something that happened immediately.
‘It’s not enough.’
There was far too little time. Originally, he had planned to cleverly pick up only the techniques. Since he could repeat today, he had expected his skills to improve that way.
‘It’s the complete opposite.’
To think his fundamentals were lacking. He hadn’t expected it. And there was another thing he came to realize anew.
Building fundamentals with a skilled swordsman watching over you was on a different level than doing it alone.
“What was your intention with the direction of your toes?”
“Your grip has loosened.”
“Were you trying to thrust? Or to cut?”
“What is it you want to do right now?”
“This won’t do. We need to start by learning how to walk properly.”
The nagging poured down like a sudden shower. And every single bit of it became an asset. Ragna, who had been bickering with Rem, suddenly turned to Enkrid and asked.
“By the way, don’t you have any desire to show off by improving your sword skills?”
Ragna asked, recalling the reason he had picked up the sword as a child. It would be a lie to say there was no desire to stand out and be seen. Enkrid, of course, had ambition, a competitive spirit, and desires.
Among his delusions was one where he stood before a lady, protecting her and receiving her handkerchief. How could he not? The desire for recognition is something everyone has.
“I have a lot of that. I want to show off immensely,” Enkrid answered.
He wanted to receive someone’s cheers and become the hero of a bard’s tale. Of course, he had such desires. Ragna nodded at his words.
It felt like some kind of answer had been given.
“What are you talking about? Anyway, the reason for the summons. The order came down to gather because the enemy has started to appear.”
It was time for battle again. Enkrid nodded his head. Ragna looked at Enkrid and thought he had done something unnecessary.
‘Will he even be able to survive today?’
What would happen if Enkrid went onto the battlefield like this? An unfamiliar sword, skills at a clumsy and awkward level. That was the sword he had built today.
Therefore, he expected him to die.
‘He has no talent.’
Throughout the process of rebuilding his fundamentals, he realized how insignificant Enkrid’s skills were. This was not something that could be achieved overnight. For a moment, Ragna blamed himself.
‘Did I drive him to his death?’
Regret.
His own mouth was the problem. What good had ever come of him stepping forward? And he had stepped forward again today.
Ragna let out a sigh mixed with regret and made a resolution.
‘I’ll stay close.’
He wanted to protect him, at least for today.
“It’s the enemy!”
The time for battle came swiftly. Before they could even finish dismantling the temporary fortifications, the enemy infantry came striding forward from beyond the tall-grass field and from the front. Their march was strangely fast.
As each unit gathered to face the enemy, the way the enemy forces had assembled was peculiar. Clumps were scattered here and there, and each unit held a long flagpole. Flap, flap, flap, flap!
The flags atop the poles they held fluttered. Suddenly, a strong wind blew from the enemy’s position toward theirs. The moment Enkrid, frowning from the wind that whipped at his eyelids, saw the flagpoles and the enemy soldiers, he sensed that this battlefield would be anything but easy.
It was an intuition from the survival instinct that had kept him alive for years. And he soon knew that intuition was correct.
“What the?”
At the head of the formed infantry line, a platoon leader muttered. It was a familiar face. Platoon Leader Benzens.
The same platoon leader with whom he had exchanged a rather awkward infantry-style farewell at the medical tent. And then, a thick fog began to settle between him and the platoon leader in front of him.
“We’ve been had!”
Even before her adjutant could speak, the Elf Company Commander had grasped the situation. An elf’s sensitive senses allowed her to feel the flow of the battlefield on her skin.
‘Magic? Sorcery?’
A thick fog began to settle over the battlefield. It was not a natural phenomenon. The senses of an elf, a friend of nature and the woods, told her something was out of place.
The artificial fog thickened, and soon, she couldn’t see an inch in front of her.
“Company Commander!”
From the adjutant’s panicked voice, the Elf Company Commander realized an important fact.
‘No one would have been prepared for this.’
Suddenly, they couldn’t see. Everyone must be in a panic. It wouldn’t be a problem for the Fourth Company alone.
If this was an artificially created fog, it wouldn’t just end here. That ominous feeling soon became reality.
Thud-dud-dud-dud!
Quarrels and arrows came flying. They were unseen arrows. A reaper’s call that suddenly poured out from beyond the fog.
Quarrels embedded themselves all over the body of a soldier standing nearby with a series of thuds. The adjutant also took an arrow to the head and collapsed. The Elf Company Commander sharpened her senses to their peak and leaped back.
An arrow struck the spot where she had just been. As she retreated, she drew her sword and swung it.
Ting-ding!
Two arrows were deflected by her sword. The company commander quickly lifted the body of her dead adjutant and used it to cover herself. If she didn’t, she would die by a stray arrow.
Fog and arrows.
‘A prepared strategy.’
They had been thoroughly caught.
“It took!”
A gleam of exhilaration appeared in the eyes of the Azpen Dukedom’s commander. Soon, he would be able to adorn this battlefield with the name of victory. The resources consumed for this were not insignificant.
Failure was not an option. As soon as the fog thickened, the commander shouted.
“Fire!”
The command, mixed with joy and excitement, was given, and the prepared arrows and quarrels fell upon the enemy forces. What Azpen had prepared was sorcery. A sorcery known by the epithet ‘Fog of Annihilation,’ which blinded their opponents!
At the commander’s shout, the shaman showed a satisfied smile. The sorcery had succeeded. It was a sorcery created using the blood of one hundred newborn lambs, calves, and foals, and the water from a lake untouched by human hands as a medium.
It wasn't just ordinary ingredients. Many sacrifices had been made for the sorcery. The commander didn't know the full extent of it.
In any case, the shaman had devoted his heart and soul to it until now. The terrain, the climate, and even the rain-calling sorcery he had cast before were all for this. It only worked when the ground was wet.
The blood-soaked flags and flagpoles were the mediums for the sorcery. The troops protected by the flagpoles were unaffected by the fog; this was the entirety of the shaman’s trick. However, one could not call this ‘just’ a trick.
The opponent cannot see, but we can. Any but a complete fool would know how great an effect that has on a large-scale battlefield. The shaman paid no mind to the course of the battle or its outcome.
He was simply pleased with the success of his sorcery.
“Are you happy because it succeeded?”
The commander of the platoon guarding the flagpole asked. It was the same skilled platoon leader who had once cornered Enkrid.
“It was close to failing, so of course I’m happy.”
The shaman said, recalling the time the enemy had launched a night raid. The negative influence had almost dissipated all the sorcerous power he had prepared. Just thinking about it made him shudder.
Listening to the shaman, the platoon leader thought of the one who had carried out the night raid.
‘That bastard.’
As a member of the Grey Dogs, the Stubborn Lovers, he wanted to kill that bastard with his own hands. That man had to be somewhere in the enemy camp right now. The Azpen platoon leader had not forgotten that face, illuminated by the torchlight.
The pretty face of the enemy soldier. He wanted to meet that man again.
As the rapidly spreading fog approached, he could smell water. At the same time, he couldn't see in front of him. Platoon Leader Benzens, who had been visible just moments ago, had vanished.
That wasn't all. Even Ragna, who had been right next to him, was nowhere to be seen.
“Sorcery!”
Someone shouted.
No, it wasn’t just someone. It was Rem’s voice. He spewed out his irritation.
“What kind of son of a bitch?”
Sorcery? What sorcery?
As Enkrid thought, he ducked his body. Arrows and quarrels were already flying over his head.
“Well done. Don’t raise your head.”
A voice came from right beside him. It was Ragna.
Ting-ding! Twang!
Sounds like that echoed above his head. The ominous premonition had become reality. Enkrid thought with his head down.
‘Sorcery.’
Why was a shaman here? Among the western tribes of the western frontier, shamans were said to be extremely rare.
So why?
The question of ‘why’ was actually meaningless right now. Enkrid stopped thinking. Suddenly, a spearhead shot out before his eyes.
Thump.
The Heart of the Beast reacted. Boldness reared its head. If not for that, his body would have frozen, and he would have died right there.
Enkrid instinctively twisted his body to the left and swung his sword from bottom to top.
Clack!
He couldn’t cut through the oil-treated spear shaft with a clumsy swing. The spear shaft was knocked away. It was a spearhead that had suddenly emerged from the fog.
Enkrid gauged the position from which the spearhead had come and tried to move forward. Then, another spearhead flew at him.
Clack!
He barely blocked it again. As he blocked, he thought. His posture had broken, and his weight transfer was a mess.
The only thing he did right was to grip his sword tightly. He had thrown away everything Ragna had nagged him about and taught him.
‘Well, this is something.’
As expected, he didn't think he could master it after learning it just once. So what should he do?
“Back.”
Ragna said.
Enkrid moved in the opposite direction of his words. Thanks to Jacksen, his hearing had become sensitive. He couldn’t see, but he could hear.
“Argh!”
“Gah!”
“Die!”
“Damn it!”
Amidst the screams and curses coming from all directions, Enkrid threw his body forward.
“... Squad Leader!”
Behind Enkrid, Ragna’s surprised shout was heard.
And then. Puk!
A spearhead pierced his throat.
‘Precise.’
This was better than getting a hole poked in his body awkwardly. Terrible pain spread from his neck throughout his entire body. His vision began to go dark.
“Crazy bastard.”
The soldier who had stabbed Enkrid muttered. He had been flustered when Enkrid suddenly stuck his neck out and charged at him.
“Die.”
The soldier kicked Enkrid away. As the spearhead was pulled out, a second wave of extreme pain came. Enkrid felt death approaching.
He knew that in the time it took to take a few more breaths, darkness would envelop him. He was satisfied with the approach of death. What did it matter, the horrific pain and the fear of death that he could never get used to no matter how many times he repeated it?
‘With this.’
The ‘today’ where he could learn the fundamentals from Ragna had begun. He found it so enjoyable.
“Gurgle.”
Enkrid smiled, blood streaming from his mouth. The enemy soldier who saw it clicked his tongue. He had seen someone who was well and truly mad.
Blackout. Darkness arrives.
He opens his eyes, and it is today, started anew.
“Why go to such lengths?”
Ragna asks.
This time, instead of scratching his forehead, he answered immediately.
“Because I want to be good with the sword.”
It was a different answer from before, but the destination was the same.
“Do you want to learn the sword?”
Of course.
Ragna offered again, and Enkrid accepted. The second day of fundamental training, the second ‘today’ had begun. And then he stood on the battlefield.
The fog spread.
“Huh? The hell?”
Rem gets irritated again. This time, Enkrid parried the spear shaft three times before once again offering his neck to the spearhead. He was unlucky, and it was a glancing blow.
The skin of his neck was torn, and blood splattered onto the ground.
‘Damn it.’
Dying from excessive blood loss like this is too painful. Before he could even finish that thought, one of the enemy soldiers thrust his spear again. He was grateful.
Thwack.
He dies again. And the third ‘today’ began.