“Spar with me, too.”
The soldier who spoke stepped forward. He had a plain appearance. He was a little shorter than Enkrid, but his body looked sturdy.
The cold, blue blade of the shortsword in his lowered hand reflected the light. The butchers of the frontier, the frontier garrison, were a small, elite force. Though a royal direct force of only two hundred men, their commander held the same rank as a battalion commander.
According to Naurilia’s military organization, they also belonged to the Royal Direct Army. This meant they had a command structure separate from the 1st and 2nd infantry armies stationed at the Border Guard. The member of the frontier garrison looked at Enkrid with impassive eyes.
It wasn't a provocative gaze. Rather, it was closer to an arrogant one, looking down on him as an inferior. That stimulated Enkrid’s competitive spirit.
It made him think this was a fight worth having. Enkrid was delighted.
‘I can fight.’
Compared to his past, where he would be immediately crushed by a difference in skill, or overwhelmed by talent before he could even begin, how was he now? He was in the middle of enjoying the joy of that change for a moment. Perhaps thinking Enkrid was hesitating, the people around him began to murmur.
“Spellbreaker.”
“The troublemaker squad leader.”
“Let’s see them go at it.”
“Being special-grade can’t be all that, can it?”
Despite there having been only three short spars, everyone was adding their voices of support for Enkrid. It was a truly strange experience. He had never been in such a situation before, as it had never happened to him once in his life.
“Let’s go!”
“Go on!”
“Show them what you’ve got!”
“The flower of the battlefield is!”
“The infantry!”
Now they were even chanting the infantry’s slogan. It was a funny thing, since his opponent was also from the infantry. In any case, their supportive feelings were clearly conveyed.
The desire to fight. A thirst that could not be satisfied by being a mere mid-rank soldier. The military discipline of the infantry backing him gathered.
In that moment, a thrilling sensation shot through his entire body, starting from the tips of his toes. Benzens, watching the situation from the outside, could understand the feelings of those cheering for Enkrid.
‘It makes sense.’
Hadn't Benzens himself just shouted for Enkrid to show them what he had? The bottom-rank soldier who swung his sword, cutting into his sleeping time. The Squad Leader who controlled the troublemaker squad.
His status was insignificant. And his skill was poor compared to his effort. That was the evaluation of him until now.
Everyone must have thought something similar. But what about now? Enkrid, the troublemaker squad leader, showed a completely different side of himself.
He proved himself by displaying outstanding skill. It was the moment when the fact that he had saved the lives of his allies and changed the tide of the battlefield by breaking the sorcery became reality. It was something they knew, yet had thought, ‘no way’.
That ‘no way’ had become reality, and now everyone knew. They knew who the person with the highest merit on the previous battlefield was. A merit the battalion commander had replaced with a word of praise and a single pouch of krona.
As with any army, this one also had a culture of the higher-ups taking the credit. The current battalion commander in particular had a rather bad reputation. Rumors were rampant that he was a man who saw his troops as mere consumables.
There were also quite a few soldiers who had subtly noticed Enkrid's skill. A few of them, including himself. Among them was Bell.
The soldier Enkrid had protected with his shield from the arrow of the one called Hawk’s Talon.
‘I knew it would be like this!’
He knew it from the moment he saved him. The troublemaker squad leader was someone who would make something of himself no matter what he did.
‘Of course.’
Was that all? The hearts of all those who had knowingly or unknowingly formed a connection with him became one. Enkrid was now the one representing the ordinary soldiers of the Border Guard.
Enkrid, receiving their cheers, casually kicked the tip of his sword with his foot and took his stance. At the same time, he set aside the thrilling sensation and calmed his breathing.
“So you’re doing it?”
“There’s no reason to avoid it.”
Torres, the member of the frontier garrison, watched Enkrid step forward nonchalantly and thought to himself.
‘Look at this guy.’
The butchers of the frontier. His unit hadn't earned such a nickname for no reason, yet his opponent didn't back down. In fact, he was stepping forward, wanting to fight more.
A faint smile even touched his face.
Interesting. Fun.
And at the same time, unpleasant. He wanted to show him the difference between an ordinary soldier and a special forces soldier.
Whoosh.
Torres rushed in first. His feet were frighteningly fast. Enkrid waited, then thrust his sword toward the center.
It was a good move. Whether left or right, up or down, his opponent would have to dodge. The moment he dodged, a heavy blow would follow in that direction.
Torres did not dodge. He brought his own sword up against Enkrid’s incoming blade. The moment the blades met, Enkrid tried to press down with strength, but his opponent used a trick.
Kagagagagang!
Sliding his blade against the other, he twisted his sword, raising it diagonally so the point where they met was slanted. The downward force slid off to the side. It was a glide, a fundamental of the Flowing Sword.
Sparks flew as sword met sword. As the force pressing down was deflected to the side, Enkrid didn’t hesitate and kicked forward with the right foot he had kept back.
Pak!
Just before the tip of his foot reached its target, his opponent blocked Enkrid’s shin with his palm. The distance had closed. It was now inside the range of their swords.
Torres let go of the shortsword he was holding and pushed deeper into Enkrid’s space. Then he crossed his hands and grabbed the collar of Enkrid's clothes at the nape of his neck. He intended to choke him.
Enkrid, regardless of whether his opponent was choking him or not, steadfastly pulled his sword up from between his legs. It was a move aimed at the opponent's spine with a backhand cut. Choking wouldn't make him pass out immediately, and in that time, he could leave a pretty deep sword mark on the special-grade soldier's back.
Torres twisted his body. Instead of grabbing the collar, he shoved Enkrid’s chest with both hands. Enkrid resisted the pushing force.
Without retreating, he changed the direction of his sword and swung it horizontally. From the moment Torres dropped his shortsword, his defeat was as good as sealed. One man was armed, and the other was not.
Who had the advantage? But here, Enkrid had another novel experience. His opponent suddenly disappeared.
‘Disappeared?’
His Single Point Focus broke. It was because his opponent had vanished from before his eyes. He couldn't hear anything either.
After that, instinct moved Enkrid. It was an instinct ingrained in his body from dying countless, truly countless times. A survival instinct gained from struggling endlessly to greet the next day while repeating the same one had saved Enkrid today.
In an instant, he gripped his sword with only his right hand and tilted his chin back. This opened up his chest wide. At the same time, a flash of light shot up from within Enkrid's embrace, right under his chin.
Pik!
The flash grazed his cheek. In that brief moment, Enkrid activated his Single Point Focus again. If he lost it, he would die.
His instincts still left a vivid warning. The flash that had shot upwards suddenly dropped down. Enkrid didn't miss it.
He caught the flash with his left palm and raised his knee sharply.
Pak- Peok!
He felt a searing pain in his palm. He could see Torres's eyes, now right in front of him, tremble. Blood flowed from his left palm, which had caught the blade of the dagger.
It was the aftermath of a fatal slash delivered by Torres, who had pulled out a dagger at some point after dropping his shortsword.
Drip.
A drop of blood fell to the ground. Then, as blood began to trickle, Tuduk-tuduk, Torres let out a breath and made a motion to withdraw his blade. Enkrid obediently let go of the blade.
Pain flooded his left hand. A searing pain. He could also feel a stinging pain and blood flowing on his cheek.
It was because his cheek had been cut as well. If he hadn’t dodged, his jaw would have been split, so he could say he was lucky. If it hadn't been for the movement guided by instinct.
'Chilling.' Enkrid thought.
“You’re lucky, huh?”
Then, he heard Rem's voice. Rem was already right behind Torres, his axe resting on his shoulder. He was close enough to strike with a swing of his axe.
He also saw Ragna, next to Rem, with his left hand on his sword and his left foot half a step forward. It was his stance for his sword-drawing style.
“You can’t go any further than that,” Ragna also muttered.
If these two had gotten behind Torres, there was also someone standing at his side. It was Jacksen, the squad member with reddish-brown hair. He held no weapon in his hands.
But he looked more dangerous than Rem and Ragna. His instincts, sharpened by the spar just moments ago, told him so. And these three were not all.
Enkrid’s gaze dropped. He saw a blade blocking the space between himself and his opponent. It was a Naeidel, a sword resembling a leaf, unique to the Elf.
“That’s far enough. This is the commander of the 4th company. Any further is murder of an ally.”
It was the Elf Company Commander. Her sword had slipped between the two at some point.
“Why so serious? It's just a spar. A couple more swings and I’d have a few holes in my body,” Torres said as he retrieved his dagger.
He rubbed his stomach where Enkrid had hit him and raised both hands. Only then did the onlookers, who had been watching the spar with bated breath, let out a sigh of relief.
“He fights damn well.”
“No, holy shit, how is that a bottom-rank soldier?”
There was no need for a separate judge.
“He’s high-rank, at least!”
These men had eyes. Moreover, who was his opponent?
“I am Torres, Platoon Leader of the Frontier Guard.”
He tapped his insignia as he spoke and extended his hand. Enkrid sheathed his sword and took it with his uninjured right hand.
“Fourth Company, Fourth Platoon, Fourth Squad Leader, Enkrid.”
Since his opponent spoke with formality, Enkrid also observed military courtesy.
“Troublemaker squad leader, I’ve heard the name.”
Even within the city, anyone who needed to know about Enkrid already did. Torres showed a good-natured smile. He didn’t look like someone who had just fought with half his life on the line.
“You fight really well, huh? Let’s do this again sometime.”
Torres said and turned away. As he walked through the crowd of onlookers, the group of soldiers parted ways for him. The butchers of the frontier; the reputation of this unit was high even among their allies.
The platoon leader of such a unit had acknowledged Enkrid. All that was left was the soldier who had saved the battalion by breaking the sorcery on the previous battlefield.
“How is he so handsome even then?”
Someone said, watching Enkrid sweep back his sweat-soaked bangs. Everyone gathered in the training yard took in the sight of Enkrid. Though unintentional, it was an event that changed everyone’s perception of him.
Funnily enough, after this incident, no one spoke carelessly about Enkrid anymore.
“Huh? That squad leader? Isn't he just some fox who runs wild, trusting in his squad members?”
Instead, if a soldier who hadn't witnessed the promotion spar said something like this, they would be scolded.
“What a load of crap. How can you say that when that squad leader saved your life on the last battlefield?”
“Huh?”
The soldier, who had been away on leave, was bewildered by his comrade’s reaction.
“You don’t know about the Spellbreaker? You bastard, did that sorcery just collapse on its own? You helpless, stupid bastard!”
Hadn’t they been badmouthing the troublemaker squad leader together just before his leave? The change in his comrade was too dramatic. But he couldn’t say anything about it, because this one person wasn’t the only one who had changed, so the soldier who returned from leave was swept up in the atmosphere.
Even he thought it seemed to be true.
‘He said he destroyed the sorcery.’
He had even received an award for it. He had secretly thought that maybe the troublemaker squad leader had accomplished something amazing. But now, those who had said, ‘No way, it must have been because of his squad members,’ had all disappeared.
At the forefront of this was Bell.
“I was, huh? About to die from an arrow, but he just appeared and blocked it with a bang.”
Of course, Benzens also played a part.
“There was a fire, and ahem, even though I hadn't been friendly to him before then, he saved me. I heard he collapsed after carrying me out of the flames. And it’s true that Squad Leader Enkrid broke the sorcery. I was at the front, rushing in, so I saw the squad leader. With my own two eyes!”
Andrew joined in as well.
“I thought he was no ordinary person from the beginning. The one who predicted the enemy's movements and led the reconnaissance was not me, but Lord Enkrid.”
The title 'Lord' was even attached to his name. Andrew’s guardian, Mac, also chimed in.
“Throughout the reconnaissance mission, he threw himself into the most dangerous positions and the most dangerous tasks. His swordsmanship? That’s not something I can carelessly comment on.”
Mac was one of the most skilled soldiers among the ordinary soldiers. The atmosphere had completely changed. That being said, there was no change in daily life.
Although the rumor that the troublemaker squad leader was more skilled than they thought circulated widely.
“A high-rank soldier?”
In the battalion commander's eyes, what was so great about a single soldier being newly promoted to high-rank? To him, the troublemaker squad leader was just a slightly troublesome existence. So he ignored him.
Enkrid was not swept up in the atmosphere either. He tended to his wounds and did his best on guard duty. Two days after the promotion system ended, Enkrid was on guard duty at the south gate of the Border Guard with Rem.
“Was this all your intention? You’re a sly one, Squad Leader,” Rem said.
“What is?”
“Lately, the kids can’t stop fawning over you whenever they see you, and you’re pretending not to know.”
Enkrid had ears and eyes. Moreover, Krais, who loved to gossip about rumors, was with him. He knew what was what.
At first, he was proud. Even if it was a struggle for survival, it was true that he had broken the sorcery. But pride was pride.
Enkrid quickly returned to his original stance. Training and conditioning.
“Don’t you get tired of it?”
“I don’t. A round of sparring after our shift?”
“Sounds good.”
Rem smirked.
He quite liked the squad leader's consistency. After their shift ended and they were heading back to the barracks, someone blocked their path. It was a face he had never seen before.
“Can we talk for a moment?”
Rem’s eyebrows twitched, just before he could ask who the hell he was.
“Of course.”
It was a face Enkrid knew. It was someone in a position where it would obviously be bad if Rem pretended to know him.
“You go on ahead.”
Enkrid sent Rem inside.
“You sure you don’t need me to stay with you?”
“Get lost.”
Enkrid said, horrified at Rem, who was trying to play the part of a guardian.
“Sheesh, you complain even when I try to look out for you.”
“Don’t look out for me.”
“I’ll say it again, if you ditch me, I’ll get sulky. I’ll pout like a teenage girl!”
Rem grumbled to the very end. What a troublesome bastard. Enkrid said he understood and gave Rem a pat on the back.
Rem went in obediently. The man, who had been watching until then, shook his head lightly from side to side.
“The discipline is a mess.”
“You think we’re called the troublemaker squad for no reason?”
They were right in front of the barracks. The man started walking along the low wall of the military base. Enkrid walked alongside him.
“You know who I am, right?”
“Aren’t you the First Company Commander?”
The man nodded. 1st Battalion’s 1st Company. He was the commander of the Turtle Heavy Infantry, the pride of the Border Guard infantry battalion.