Every day, after learning Single Point Focus from Ragna, he would rush into actual combat. That was the "today" Enkrid kept repeating.
Countless repetitions.
Even as he died over and over, the technique called Single Point Focus remained just out of reach, almost graspable but not quite. 'Let's not get impatient.' Enkrid changed his line of thinking.
First, let's try to break the flagpole. When the battle began once more. Enkrid pondered how he could minimize the damage.
Pondering and contemplating were among his specialties. The fog rolled in again. A fog of death.
That was why the name of this sorcery was the Fog of Annihilation. Of course, Enkrid didn't know the name of the sorcery. He only recognized that he couldn't just stand there and be defeated.
The fog rolled in, and before Rem could shout anything, Enkrid spoke first.
“Everyone, get down!”
It was a confusing moment. At someone's shout, even the Platoon Leader ducked his head.
“Shie-lds!”
When Enkrid shouted again, his allies raised their shields reflexively. His left hand feeling empty, Enkrid had brought a shield with him as well. As he ran with a low stance, holding the shield at a diagonal angle, thud-thud-thud! a few quarrels and arrows embedded themselves in it.
The oil-treated shield did its job faithfully.
‘I should have brought a shield sooner.’
There had been times when he'd started the fight after being hit by a quarrel or an arrow while running through here. Thanks to that, he had grown accustomed to the routes for approaching while dodging. He thought as he rushed forward.
He knew from his past experiences. To escape the fog's influence, he had to get right up close to the enemy. Enkrid did just that.
While running, Enkrid suddenly kicked off the ground and threw his body to the left.
Swoosh! Swoosh!
Spear blades passed through the spot where Enkrid had been. It was a pattern he had already memorized. He couldn't use Single Point Focus by intentionally creating a crisis of death.
He had to struggle desperately. Enkrid resolved to do so. After dodging the spear, he ran again and got right in front of the enemy.
Only then did he see the enemy beyond the fog. A very flustered face was revealed inside a round leather helmet. Enkrid kicked the surprised enemy soldier's ankle.
“Ugh!”
He struck the head of the man who lost his balance and fell with the edge of his shield.
Thwack!
It sounded like wood splitting. If the man survived this, it would be pure luck. Passing the fallen man, he drew his longsword.
As he drew it, he swung it wide, and three or four enemy soldiers who were trying to close in were taken aback. Seeing this, Enkrid drew a route in his mind. He had repeated this "today" for nearly 300 days.
He could find his way with his eyes closed. The location of the flagpole, the formation of the enemy soldiers. From the enemy soldiers' perspective, Enkrid's movements must have seemed ghostly.
Lon, a soldier of the Azpen Dukedom, was bewildered by the Naurilia soldier's movements as he dashed out as soon as the fog rolled in. He would pop out from the left, cut down three or four of their allies, then suddenly vanish with a 'poof'. It really looked that way.
As if he had suddenly disappeared. In reality, he had just lowered his stance abruptly.
“Gah!”
“He's low! Down low!”
Lon knew the fog surrounding him was created by sorcery or magic. So, this fog didn't obscure the vision of his allies. However, the densely packed parts of the fog did obstruct their view.
For example, areas near their feet. So, they could see well above their chests, but the ground wasn't very visible. The enemy acted as if he knew this.
“Kill him!”
“This bastard!”
Commotion arose from all sides. The enemy soldier moved as if he had ten bodies. Lon grew tense.
He planned to smash the man's head in one go if he appeared nearby at any moment. The tension was palpable.
“Gak!”
“Ugh!”
“He's here!”
The man still moved through the fog that blanketed the ground as if it were his own home. Lon swallowed hard. He felt as if a blade would fly at his face at any moment.
He felt the urge to piss. But for a long while, the enemy didn't appear. Just as the tension reached its peak.
“The flagpole... gak!”
A scream erupted from behind. It was the Platoon Leader's voice. Lon snapped his head around.
He saw the Platoon Leader collapsing forward, and next to him, an enemy soldier rising to his feet. The way he rose, parting the fog that lay on the ground, made him look like a skeleton soldier rising from a grave.
‘Was he alone?’
He caused all this chaos by himself, navigating through the fog? The man gripped his sword with both hands and struck the flagpole.
Crack!
With one heavy blow, the middle of the flagpole broke. The flag tilted to the side and fell. The flag, which until a moment ago had been fluttering in the wind, lost its sound and movement.
Thump.
The fallen flag kicked up a cloud of dust. Through that dust, the enemy soldier seemed to tilt his head. That's how it looked to Lon's eyes.
Then the enemy moved again.
“Kill him, kill him!”
Someone grabbed the enemy soldier's trouser leg as they were dying. It was admirable. An act befitting an elite soldier of Azpen, who disregarded their own life.
Their allies swarmed him like a hive of bees. The enemy soldier, with two spears in his left side and five quarrels stuck in his thigh, asked while bleeding profusely.
“Why isn't the fog lifting? It should be the medium for the sorcery.”
In place of the dead Platoon Leader, the Squad Leader scoffed.
“You fool, why do you think there are six flagpoles?”
The Squad Leader didn't mince his words. The man was about to die anyway. Knowing this wouldn't change anything.
“So five were decoys and only one was real.”
“Crazy bastard.”
“Why is Single Point Focus so difficult... then again, nothing has ever been easy.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hoo, focus, focus, focus.”
“You've lost your mind, you bastard.”
Smack!
After asking and getting his answer, the enemy soldier muttered to himself repeatedly. Watching this, Lon couldn't hold back and swung his spear shaft. The head burst, splattering blood.
The man who was hit writhed on the ground, spewing blood.
“Gurgle.”
Lon turned away from the man foaming at the mouth with blood and turned his body. Because of this one man, a whole flag unit failed to carry out its mission, but the tide of the battle had already turned. It was a great victory for the Azpen Dukedom.
As long as this fog existed, they could not lose.
The pain of death filled his entire body. Enkrid sank into thought to forget the pain.
‘How did I learn Heart of the Beast?’
For Sense of the Blade, the assassin's help had been significant. For Heart of the Beast, rolling around on the battlefield on the verge of death had helped. But Single Point Focus did not come easily.
Did the boldness granted by Heart of the Beast interfere? He didn't think so. If he had easily achieved it after just a few tries, Enkrid would have been a man of outstanding talent.
It was understandable to feel frustrated, but Enkrid remained calm. He wasn't anxious. There was no need to be.
‘If it doesn't work, I'll do it until it does.’
Because his heart was resolute and firm, he knew no despair or frustration. Death came again, and he opened his eyes in the morning. He let the sunlight and wind wash over him and steeled his resolve.
“It's called Single Point Focus. Will you learn it?”
Ragna continued to teach as if following a set path, and Enkrid nodded. He learned and learned, but he couldn't understand. Northern Heavy Sword.
That is, there was something he learned this time while polishing the fundamentals of the Heavy Sword through Ragna. It was a small realization. That whatever you learn, you must learn it properly from the beginning.
‘The fear of death is supposed to put your nerves on edge?’
No matter how much he tried, it felt like clothes that didn't fit, so he asked.
“How did you learn it?”
“For me, it just happened,” Ragna said kindly.
That made him seem even more annoying. Why was he being kind now? He thought he preferred it when Ragna was spitting venomous words.
“Just happened?”
“Yes, I forgot my surroundings, focused, and quickly became one with the sword.”
He wasn't bragging. His tone was nonchalant.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is.”
What was a trivial matter for Ragna was like an unreachable star for Enkrid. Even so, feelings of jealousy or envy didn't well up inside him. If his spirit could be broken by something like this, he wouldn't have been able to even dream of becoming a knight.
He repeated the same thing over and over. Ragna stopped his sword right before his eyes, telling him to feel the fear of death. Looking at the speed alone, he seemed faster than Rem.
When he watched the two of them fight, Rem had seemed faster. The sparring match between the two was still vividly etched in Enkrid's mind. Now that he was facing him himself, Ragna seemed faster.
“What are you doing? They told us to gather. What are you up to? Using the Squad Leader as a practice dummy? You must be really upset about losing to me before, huh?”
“Who lost? Your head?”
Why did these two fight every time they met?
“Let's just go.”
The battlefield again. Enkrid had learned much through death. One of those things was that five of the six flagpoles were fake.
‘Means I have to guess right.’
It was time to test his luck. This time, even before the fog rose, he ran out first toward the enemy forces that had drawn closer.
“... Squad Leader?”
Ragna's dumbfounded question came from behind. Anyone would have thought it was a ridiculous thing to do.
“Squad Leader, are you crazy!”
Rem shouted too. The others were on the verge of whispering, asking why he was acting like that, if he had gone mad. At that exact moment, the fog swept in.
“Huh!”
“I can't see!”
Enkrid shouted as he ran.
“Get dooown! Shie-lds!”
He thought they would follow his words just like before, since he had done this previously, but the result was different from the last time. His allies' reaction was slow. Arrows and quarrels flew in, tearing through his allies.
His unit was in a state of panic until the enemy, holding short infantry spears, closed in and stabbed.
‘Why?’
The timing was the problem. He should have given them time to catch their breath after being surprised. It was a mistake made because he already knew what would happen.
It's okay.
He just has to do better next time. Others might say the Goddess of Fortune had kissed him or given him bags of coins. But Enkrid knew himself well.
He was not the lucky type. It was the second flagpole he had picked. A fierce battle just like before was needed.
Single Point Focus still hadn't settled into his body. But as real combat was added to his newly built fundamentals, his skills seemed to have improved significantly.
‘Still a long way to go, though.’
Enkrid's standards were Rem and Ragna. It took three "todays" to break the second flagpole. When he broke the flagpole, the enemy Platoon Leader, with a dagger in his stomach, cackled while vomiting blood.
“It's a trick!”
“I know.”
Enkrid nodded, two arrows stuck in his thigh.
“... What?”
“Four left.”
“What did you say?”
“Focus, focus.”
Was it failing because he lacked concentration? Single Point Focus was difficult. Enkrid ignored the chattering enemy Platoon Leader next to him and exerted his concentration.
He boldly struck and parried the enemy's spear, swinging his sword. An upward cut, which he was several times more familiar with than before, split the enemy's jaw. With a cracking sound, it split vertically from the mouth to the nose.
A quarrel flew in from the side. Thwack, it lodged in his side. He didn't die thanks to his armor, but in a spot he hadn't noticed, there were five soldiers with crossbows.
The number of enemy soldiers near the flagpole was about 80. A number he couldn't handle alone.
‘I need to attack the flagpole and also keep an escape route in mind.’
He thought and pondered repeatedly. For the sake of Single Point Focus, for the sake of breaking the flagpole, he transcended death. For the third flagpole, five "todays."
For the fourth flagpole, seven "todays" were needed.
‘If I were the enemy commander.’
I would hide the flagpole in the safest place. Before the fog set in, he used up two "todays" to scrutinize the enemy formation. Only then did he see it.
A single flag unit, surrounded by the enemy. It was in the very center. Enkrid flawlessly gave his allies a warning and ran.
Everyone got down properly and held their shields well.
“Rem, follow me!”
He brought Rem along with him.
“Sor... what?”
“I said follow me!” he shouted and dashed off.
Rem followed him.
“What kind of crazy thing are you trying to do?”
Instead of answering, Enkrid charged with Rem at the flag unit blocking their path.
“With just the two of you!” an enemy soldier roared in anger.
Seeing this, Enkrid cunningly moved out of the way. It was a move to lower his body, hide in the fog, and pass the enemy soldier off to Rem.
“The sorcery, who cast it?”
Rem spoke in a voice reminiscent of cold flames and swung his axe. When he looked back, he couldn't even see the axe properly, but he saw the enemy soldier's head fly off with a thud. Blood spurted from the severed neck like a fountain, then the body gurgled and fell to the side.
“I'll get the answer from the next one.”
Rem went on a rampage. Watching him, Enkrid pictured the enemy's movements in his mind. It took five "todays" to encounter the innermost flag unit.
Only after struggling five times was he able to penetrate the unit. Enkrid used his head. Instead of charging head-on, he slipped in from the side.
He lowered his stance and watched for his chance. He stealthily approached the flagpole. Just then, someone blocked his way.
“Am I dreaming?” the person blocking his path said.
Who the hell is this guy?
“God has watched over me and granted my wish. I really wanted to kill you with my own hands.”
Enkrid looked at the person blocking him and tilted his head. He couldn't remember who it was.
“... You've forgotten me in just a few days?”
To his opponent, it had been a few days, but thanks to the repeated "today", Enkrid had been on this battlefield for a year.
“My apologies. Please introduce yourself.”
Enkrid said politely, and a vein popped on the opponent's forehead.
“Platoon Leader of the Azpen Dukedom, Mitch Hurrier.”
Even after hearing the name, Enkrid couldn't remember at all.
“I see.”
As he nodded, Mitch glared.
“This son of a bitch.”
Extremely agitated, he drew his sword. Seeing him draw his sword with a 'shing' and aim it, Enkrid felt like he might remember.
‘Where have I seen him?’
“Wait.”
Enkrid raised a hand to stop his opponent. Mitch asked, the tip of his sword still aimed.
“What is it?”
“I really don't remember. Who are you?”
“You'll remember once you get stabbed!”
The man charged. Enkrid also drew his longsword to face him.
Clang, claaang!
Sword met sword, metal met metal, resonating and letting out a sound. The two locked blades and then separated, and Mitch was inwardly surprised.
‘This bastard?’
His skills had improved drastically.