The Elf Company Commander twitched her ears. At the same moment, the events unfolding around her were drawn in her mind as vividly as if she were seeing them with her own eyes. Sensitive senses were an elf’s innate talent.
Relying on her hearing, she moved two steps to the right.
Swoosh.
She was now in front of an enemy lancer thrusting his long spear. She was at the head of her own forces. The Elf Company Commander struck the enemy’s spear shaft upward.
As she struck the spear, the sword in her hand flowed forward like a blade of grass on the wind, punched a hole in the enemy’s neck, and returned.
Stab! Pluck!
Blood spurted from the punctured throat. She flicked the sword in her hand toward the ground. The blood on the blade scattered onto the ground with a patter.
She kept moving. To stay in one place was to become a target for quarrels. The Elf Company Commander ran, swinging the leaf-shaped sword.
Ting.
Two quarrels were deflected by the blade and sent flying. The sword she held was called ‘Naeidel.’ It was a unique piece of elven equipment, shorter and more pointed than a regular sword, resembling a streamlined leaf.
A characteristic feature was the blade, which, when pulled from the handle, resembled a small boat or a leaf. The unique elven swordsmanship was a mix of three styles: the Flowing Sword, the Righteous Sword, and the Swift Sword. Naeidel was a weapon specialized for it.
And what the company commander had just demonstrated was that very swordsmanship. No soldier could withstand her technique of striking away and deflecting long spears, then thrusting like a ray of light.
‘This is not good.’
Even as she slayed her opponent, the Elf Company Commander felt a sense of gloom. Was sorcery always this dangerous? She had once fought a warrior under a Berserker’s Curse.
The berserker, who charged without regard for his own wounds, was dangerous and violent, but it was temporary and not the kind of thing that could envelop an entire battlefield. That was the extent of her knowledge of sorcery. So, when the fog rolled in, she couldn’t help but be surprised.
This is sorcery? Fortunately, she had been prepared, so she reacted properly. When the fog first appeared, the Elf Company Commander had her unit form a circle to tighten their formation.
She immediately carried out the shouts of ‘Down!’ and ‘Shields!’ that erupted at just the right time. When she shouted, several platoon leaders frantically repeated the same words like parrots, and they held on. Their vision was suddenly gone.
It was enough to plunge them into a state of panic. It was only natural that the battle was turning grim. Even in such a situation, she did her duty.
She broke formation to cut down and stab the enemy’s front line alone. If she hadn’t done at least this much, her allies would have been wiped out in an instant. At least the First Company would hold out.
‘That potato-sprout-like bastard.’
The Elf Company Commander cursed the battalion commander in her mind. Potato sprouts have poison in them. Elves had a tendency to enjoy using plant-based expressions.
When a potato sprouts, you have to cut the sprout out before eating it. If you eat it as is, poison builds up in your body. The current battalion commander was exactly that kind of potato-sprout-like bastard.
In a situation like this, the command should have come up with some kind of countermeasure, but there were no orders from the battalion commander. No whistle, no shout, no instructions at all. He had led the unit complacently, relying only on his connections.
She had told him countless times to prepare for sorcery, but he didn't seem to be listening properly. This kingdom, too, was like a mold-covered peach. In other words, it was rotten.
How could they dispatch such a piece of trash to the front lines as a battalion commander?
‘Even if luck is on our side.’
Would even ten out of a hundred survive? The fog blinded her allies. That was fatal.
Just as she was predicting such a grim future, the fog in front of her suddenly cleared away completely.
“Hm?”
The Elf Company Commander stopped in her tracks, still holding her sword, Naeidel. She was bewildered. The fog disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
And the enemy was even more bewildered than she was.
“Huh?”
An enemy soldier holding a long spear right in front of her stopped his hand, not even thinking of thrusting. The Elf Company Commander's confusion was brief. She fought well even when the fog was present.
She swung Naeidel as she was. The sword, drawing a semicircle in the air, precisely slit the enemy's throat.
“Gack!”
Another enemy soldier fell. The company commander judged that this was the turning point of the battle. It was not the time to wonder why the fog had lifted.
“All units, about-face! Counterattack!”
Her shout was met with responses from all over.
“Charge! Charge! Chaaarge!”
“Kill them! Kill them alllll!”
“You sons of bitches!”
“Beat them all to death!”
As their spirit changed, the tide of battle turned. The Elf Company Commander retrieved Naeidel and held her ground. Soon, her company passed by her side.
“Company Commander!”
The First Platoon Leader shouted.
“Grind them all to dust.”
The company commander replied. The First Platoon Leader answered with a war cry instead of words.
“Uwaaaaaah!”
The air of the battlefield heated up. The gloomy atmosphere that had settled over her allies was instantly blown away. Only then did the Elf Company Commander begin to wonder why the fog had suddenly disappeared.
‘Could it be?’
That squad leader? There was no reason, but she felt like he had done it. It was pure instinct.
An elf’s instinct was still sharp.
The commander of the Grey Dogs, an autonomous company of the Azpen Kingdom, had turned back to block the escape route. It was precisely at the point where the fog was clearing. All he had to do was kill any enemy that came out.
They were enemies fleeing in a panic, so it couldn't be easier. But then the fog suddenly lifted.
“What is this? Why is the fog lifting?”
“Commander, the enemy is turning around.”
There were no particular hills on the Green Pearl Plains to obstruct their view. They could see the Naurilia Kingdom army turning back. The company commander grasped the situation in an instant.
Whether the shaman had screwed up, or the sorcery itself was a mess, a problem had occurred. At this rate, the strategy his side had prepared would completely collapse.
“We’ll hit their rear! Don’t break through, we’ll shave them off from the side as we go! Follow me!”
The company commander sprinted. They struck the rear of the Naurilia Kingdom army just like that. By hitting their rear, he intended to help the allies at the front retreat.
“Some kind of, son of a…”
The commander of the Grey Dogs resolved to punish whoever had lifted this fog, no matter who it was.
Enkrid realized that his calculations had been very wrong. The quarrel stuck in his back, behind his right shoulder, prevented him from swinging his sword properly with his right hand. His opponent was slightly more skilled than Mitch Hurrier.
Even when he tried to use Single Point Focus, there were guys who would suddenly thrust spears from behind. No, it would have been a relief if there were only lancers aiming for his back. Five crossbowmen followed him, constantly aiming at him.
Because of that, a quarrel was also lodged in his thigh.
‘There’s no way I can run with this leg.’
The cracked sword had broken at some point and was now only half its size. His opponent was using the Northern Heavy Sword technique, which employed powerful strikes. The blood flowing from his thigh and back mixed with the enemy's blood, leaving Enkrid drenched in it.
Seeing him hold out with a half-broken sword in that state, the mustached man was inwardly impressed. He was an enemy, he spoke annoyingly, and he had ruined the sorcery, but. Wasn't his fighting spirit astonishing?
Even now, there was no sign of him giving up.
“What are you trusting in to act like that?”
The mustached man asked. Enkrid, catching his breath, kept the crossbowmen in the back within his line of sight and answered.
“What do you mean.”
“I’m asking why you haven’t given up yet.”
To that, Enkrid replied as if it was not even worth thinking about.
“Hoo, I’m a squad leader, you see.”
“So?”
“In my squad, there are two friends named Rem and Ragna.”
“Hmm?”
“Those two fight so well, you wouldn’t even know why they’re just squad members.”
“Are you saying those two are coming to save you?”
“That was one of the scenarios.”
Since he had come this far, he thought they would be nearby. But no. They were not in sight. He thought it was about time for them to appear.
Since they hadn't come by now, he had to assume they weren't coming. That was correct. At that same moment, Rem was in the middle of crossing the tall-grass field after breaking through and decimating an enemy unit.
Ragna hadn't advanced further because of the fog and was only dealing with the enemies who charged at him. After the fog lifted, he rejoined the main force. Neither of them knew where their squad leader was.
The mustached man raised his sword and took a step forward. Enkrid dragged his injured right foot and stepped back. Even so, his eyes are too alive, aren't they?
Enkrid’s eyes were still aiming for something. With that leg? Where was he trying to run?
Enkrid looked at the mustached man and thought he was a bastard without any openings. But he didn't give up on 'today' either. He could just die and repeat it again.
He knew that. He knew it all too well. But he didn’t think he had suffered a fatal wound yet.
Above all, if he had spent all his previous todays meaninglessly, the Enkrid of now would not exist. Until the very moment of death, Enkrid would resist. He would do his best to live today.
He was the type to struggle without giving up until the very end.
“It’s a shame you’re an enemy.”
The mustached man said, taking another step forward. Enkrid could retreat no further. Behind him, an enemy soldier with a spear was glaring at him with menacing eyes.
He glanced back once and then looked forward again. The mustached man held his sword with both hands on the grip. The blade of the bastard sword, longer than a regular sword, reflected the sunlight that streamed in as the fog lifted.
‘Right? Or left?’
Which way should he dodge? No matter which way he dodged, he couldn't avoid a fatal wound. Still, he didn't want to die quietly.
‘If I can’t dodge.’
Enkrid gripped the half-broken sword tightly. If left, right, and retreat were not options, then moving forward was the only way. The moment the sword falls, I’ll dash forward.
That’s what he decided.
Twang!
With the sound of a string snapping, a quarrel flew and lodged itself in his left shoulder. While his eyes were fixed on the sword, a soldier had taken the chance to fire a crossbow. Enkrid let out a short groan, endured the pain, and said.
“Mm, that’s dirty.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
The mustached man said, still holding his sword. There was no trace of a smile. Even if he killed the enemy soldier before him, the war would likely lean toward defeat.
The life of one soldier versus victory on the battlefield. Even a passing eight-year-old child would know which was more valuable. That said, letting him go was even more out of the question.
Swoosh.
He brought the sword down. Heavy Sword, a powerful strike. Enkrid did not close his eyes.
He watched the descending sword until the very end. The Heart of the Beast gave him boldness. Without batting an eye, Enkrid thought.
‘If my body were fine, how should I block this?’
He, in the end, focused on wielding a sword until the very last moment. And just before the sword struck his forehead.
“Argh!”
A soldier's scream was heard from behind. At the same time as the scream, a black shadow struck the mustached man’s sword.
Clang!
Enkrid didn't even get a good look at what the shadow was. However, he thought it was not a sword or an arrow. If it were a sword or an arrow, it wouldn’t have spun in the air upon impact and landed on the ground.
“……Eh?”
Enkrid confirmed the shadow's identity. Blue eyes, fur like black silk. It was a black panther.
In that moment, a distant memory surfaced. It was a memory that should have been recent, but because he had repeated 'today' so many times, it had become distant. A memory that could have been forgotten.
Yet, a memory that was not forgotten. The black fur and blue eyes brought it back readily. It was the beast he had met in the tall-grass field.
“You?”
“Grrr.”
The black panther seemed to have grown since then; its body was a little bigger. It stared down the mustached man and then let out a fierce cry, Kaaaaaaaak!
“Now, what is this?”
The mustached man’s eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. Then, he expressed his anger again. In response, two crossbowmen aimed at the panther and fired their quarrels.
“Hey, whoa!”
Enkrid shouted in surprise. The panther twisted its body flexibly on the spot, kicked the ground a few times with a thud, and dodged all the quarrels. After that, it kicked off the ground with a pak and dashed forward.
The mustached man reflexively slammed his sword down. The panther didn't even go near the mustached man. The black silk seemed to stretch out long.
That's how fast it was. The panther's destination was the crossbowmen.
“Gack!”
The panther's claws were so sharp that when it swiped its paw and sliced the Achilles tendon on the back of a crossbowman's ankle, blood spurted out. It wasn't something a leather boot could block.
Clang!
As the panther lunged, a soldier drew his shortsword. After that, the panther showed an even more surprising move. It didn't aim for the soldier but kicked the crossbow with its foot.
It kicked off the ground with its front paw to leap, then cut the crossbow's string with its back claws. It used the crossbow as a springboard, pushing off with its back feet and flying toward another crossbow. What it did after flying was the same.
It swung its front paw and cut the crossbow's string.
‘Did it aim for that?’
One might be a coincidence, but cutting the strings of all five remaining crossbows was hard to see as a coincidence.
“A mere beast.”
The mustached man’s face was now red. He was properly angry. The panther did not engage him.
It quickly kicked off the ground, returned to Enkrid's side, and bit the scruff of his neck.
“Grrr!”
Seemingly displeased with something, the panther, still biting him, snorted and began to run. It was an incredibly strong creature. Though his legs dragged and his body was pulled, it was as fast as Enkrid could run.
His back was scraped and his arms and legs were getting scratched in real time. As he was being dragged, he felt something warm flowing from the scruff of his neck. He wanted to turn his head to check, but there was no time for that.
“After them!”
The mustached man shouted. Even so, it seemed difficult to get out of here.
“Run away.”
Enkrid said.
Naturally, the panther did not answer. Warm liquid continued to flow from his neck, and the mustached man was in pursuit. Enkrid was in the middle of an escape, being dragged by the scruff of his neck by a panther, scraping along the ground.
Still, an escape like this has a foreseeable end. The panther's limits are clear. The mustached man looked absolutely determined not to let them go.
His bloodshot eyes were etched with resolve.
“I said run away.”
He said to the panther once more, and a black shadow appeared over his head.
“I’ve come to save you.”
“Eh?”
It was unexpected reinforcements. An ally, drenched in blood from head to toe. A platoon leader he knew, one he used to have fun teasing.
“Platoon Leader Benzens?”
“That’s right. I’m here.”
He stood in front of Enkrid, holding his sword. He was not alone. Allied soldiers swarmed in behind him.
A platoon that had broken through the front had made it all the way here. The time Enkrid, no, the panther, had bought was not in vain.