The Fourth Platoon Leader of the Heavy Infantry Company was a commander who had recently transferred to this unit from the central command. What a mess. Since he was now part of the unit, he had set out on a monster subjugation mission to acclimate himself and get some practical training.
Of course, for such a purpose, the scale was rather large. The original mission, after all, was to subjugate a large pack of man-faced hounds. Still, it was fine.
There was a reason they said the Heavy infantry was a class that devoured krona. In short, he had set out knowing the might of his own unit. Suddenly, harpies appeared.
It was a difficult situation. Why harpies, all of a sudden? He called for support.
Formed a formation with the heavy infantry. In the meantime, a few soldiers died. As the crossbows fired uselessly into the air, reinforcements arrived.
Just two lightly armored infantrymen.
‘Are you kidding me?’
And what's more, they fearlessly strode right into the harpies' attack range. That was suicide. The commander did not know Enkrid, nor did he know Rem.
Having recently transferred, he was still adjusting to the unit's atmosphere. Of course, he had heard talk of a Spellbreaker and a high-rank troublemaker squad leader, but he hadn't had the time to pay it much mind. So when he saw the two of them during this subjugation mission, he got angry right away.
“Damn it all!”
A curse escaped his lips. Even if there was a subtle friction between the heavy and light infantry. There was no way he would enjoy watching his comrades die right before his eyes.
Who would want to see a harpy tear someone's head off? The two lightly armored infantrymen were Enkrid and Rem, and the reason they had appeared alone was because they hadn't bothered waiting for the other squad members and had joined up first. That was why the requested reinforcements, the archers, had not yet arrived from the main unit.
“Hey, get back…!”
He was in such a rush that he couldn't get all the words out. He wanted to tell them to run, or to get their heads down. Over here, they were structured to withstand the harpies' talons and attacks.
Over thick cloth armor, they wore chainmail, and over that, a breastplate reinforced with thin iron plates, complete with steel gauntlets and greaves. On top of that, they carried square shields and had formed a defensive formation. It was a strategic defensive posture befitting their nickname, the Turtle Heavy Infantry.
It meant they could hold out until reinforcements arrived. Therefore, to the harpies, those who were easier targets than his men would be much simpler prey. A harpy spotted the new prey and dove down at a terrifying speed.
The commander saw its red feathers drop in a flash, drawing a long arc downwards. He wanted to help, but he had no way of doing so. All he could do now was watch them get killed and promise to avenge them later.
And so, just before the harpy's talons split the soldier's head open.
Ching. Shhhk.
The sounds of scraping metal and tearing flesh reached the commander's ears. All he could see was the harpy's back. A harpy's body was about the size of an adult man, so he couldn't clearly see what the lightly armored infantryman, hidden by the falling harpy, had done.
What he did see was one of the harpy's wings getting torn, its body crashing to the ground like a failed skipping stone, bouncing once into the air, and then tumbling across the floor.
Half of the harpy's body, which had been flaunting its red feathers and swaying breasts, was stained with blood, and dirt and dust covered its entire form.
“Keeeeeeeh!”
The harpy sprawled on the ground shrieked. The commander couldn't even blink. What is this?
“... Huh?”
In this incomprehensible situation, only a single, short question remained. The commander's eyes scanned the scene, and he quickly tried to cram everything into the realm of understanding.
‘A harpy flew down.’
And he cut it with a sword? Is that even possible? It was a feat one did not see often.
What if the approaching harpy's talons had been off by just a little? What if he missed the timing? What if his cutting strength was insufficient?
Weren't all of those a problem? The very act of doing something like that was insane. Where in the world was there a man who could do something like that against a diving harpy?
Even among the Frontier Slaughters of the frontier garrison, how many of them could do that?
Kieek!
‘A coincidence. Luck.’
He must have been incredibly lucky. As if he wasn't the only one who thought so, two of the harpies floating overhead glided down, aiming for the pair, and dove toward the ground again. They were fast.
It was as if he could hear the sound of the harpies' talons tearing through the air. The commander's eyes were fixed on the two lightly armored infantrymen who had come as so-called reinforcements. Because the angle of the harpies' attack was different this time, the commander could clearly see their response.
He saw it, but it was a movement beyond his comprehension, so he still had nothing to say. The soldier with the axe twisted his body to dodge the incoming talons, then swung his axe. He had only registered the swing, but in the next moment, with a crack, the harpy's head was split vertically in two.
The harpy with the split head crashed to the ground, leaving a mark on the floor like a burst tomato. A long trail of blood from skidding on the ground, the splattered blood of a monster, a harpy with its head burst open. Another one was dead.
That was the scene created by the axe. The other soldier did something similar again. The soldier who had first torn the harpy's wing raised his sword and once again cut vertically.
How could he do that? He swung his sword, and it was as if the harpy was charging right into the blade. It was the result of swinging his sword in prediction of the harpy's movement.
What else could this be but another feat?
Puk!
However, this time his aim seemed to be off, as he struck the harpy's chest. The soldier's sword split half of the harpy's body, but the soldier also lost his grip on the sword. Not that it changed anything.
Kiek.
The sword was lodged between the two mounds of the harpy's breasts, which resembled a woman's. The monster tumbled to the ground with a thud, splattering blood once more. Its internal organs had been split and destroyed. It was as good as dead.
The commander unconsciously raised his gaze upwards. The number of remaining harpies was eight. His side hadn't been able to catch a single one, but as soon as these two appeared, three were dead.
‘The frontier garrison?’
The commander misunderstood them. Their skills were too overwhelming for them to be mere soldiers. Was this what a special-grade soldier was like?
He had heard rumors about the Frontier Slaughters before transferring, but he didn't think they were this good. Then, the commander saw a group approaching from behind the two. They were all carrying projectile weapons, things like javelins, longbows, or crossbows.
People wearing cloaks and eagle emblems on their shoulders. The real frontier garrison. The frontier guardsman leading them also assessed the situation.
He had seen it with his own two eyes.
‘His skill.’
It's improved.
To the point where I can no longer confidently say I could easily win. The one leading the garrison was Torres. A Platoon Leader from the frontier garrison who had a history with Enkrid in many ways.
Gauging an opponent's skill just by how they kill monsters is a foolish thing to do. However, Torres didn't have the confidence to perform such a feat against a flying harpy. Especially not twice in a row.
‘Was it luck?’
Torres had the same thought as the Heavy Infantry Platoon Leader. But at that moment, a third harpy flew in. Torres's gaze dropped from the harpy to the ground below.
There, he saw Enkrid pulling his sword from the chest of the freshly killed harpy.
“Hey!”
Torres shouted.
It was a warning to look up.
What should I call this. Enkrid connected the dots. He split time.
He swung his sword as his intuition led him. As a result, he cut the first harpy's wing.
“Whew.”
Rem whistled from the side. The dizzying resistance left in his grip told him of the heavy weight of the diving monster harpy. It was worth cutting.
It wasn't too much. Afterward, he raised his sword again. A harpy flew in, and this time he cut it right through the center of its chest and let go of the sword.
If he had held on, his palm felt like it would have been torn apart. His judgment was correct. A strike that connected the dots, a sword strike filled with power.
The result was the monster's death. As Enkrid bent his waist and brought his sword down, a harpy's talons passed over his head. The whooshing sound of it cutting through the air was chilling, but it didn't feel dangerous.
‘Just have to dodge.’
It was a simple attack pattern. Dodge, cut, and thrust. An application of swordsmanship.
He walked over, placed his foot on the dead harpy's swaying chest, on what would be the collarbone of a human, and pulled out his sword.
“Kiiik.”
What tenacious life force. Its chest was half-split open, its innards spilling out, yet it still blinked its eyes. It was still alive.
Enkrid was looking at the harpy he had cut, but his senses were focused on his surroundings, especially on the harpy diving down from above. He could feel the vibrations in the air without looking. His senses were clearer than ever before.
“Hey!”
He heard the shout, but he was already moving before that. He stabbed the tip of his sword into the dying harpy's wing and applied force.
Crack!
The muscles in both his arms strained, and power flowed into his waist and thighs. Just like that, he heaved the dying harpy upwards.
Thwack!
The diving harpy was hit by it and sent tumbling. After blocking the harpy with a harpy, Enkrid rolled to the side, applying a glide to disperse the shock. It was an intentional, anticipated movement to relieve the remaining shock in his body.
As soon as he finished rolling, Enkrid stood up, dashed forward, and brought his sword down on the head of the fallen harpy. The blade, swung as if splitting firewood, cracked the harpy's head open. That makes four.
Rem killed one, Enkrid killed three. The first one that fell had already had a quarrel embedded in its head by a nearby soldier. Flap, flap, the flock of harpies that had been flapping their wings overhead began to distance themselves one by one.
Harpies were creatures that did not fight battles they couldn't win. The creatures fled. Enkrid let his arms hang limp, swallowing his disappointment.
‘A few more times.’
He wanted to fight. He needed to gain more experience. He was still in the middle of mastering and reviewing what he had learned.
He needed more real combat to adapt and learn. Then, it felt like he could completely make what he had gained in the sewers a part of him.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Rem chuckled beside him and spoke. As a perceptive barbarian, he seemed to have already noticed Enkrid's state.
“Anyone else would say you're crazy, but at this point, I'd call it an extraordinary skill. It's truly strange, though. I thought you needed some real combat, but how did you get like this in just one day?”
He wasn't probing deeply, but he expressed his doubt. It was only natural. How could it be normal for someone with the worst talent to make such a drastic improvement in a single day?
Enkrid gave his usual excuse.
“I was lucky.”
Rem knew that one couldn't improve their skills this much through luck alone. But he had no intention of questioning it. What did it matter anyway?
Seeing this fellow swing his sword with such excitement was amusing to him as well.
“I was once chased by harpies and barely survived,” Enkrid muttered.
“You were?”
“I was.”
The words held no particular emotion or meaning. It was just a statement that such a thing had happened. Enkrid recalled the comrade who had died back then.
And then he shook it off.
‘This may not be revenge.’
But at least there was a sense of satisfaction in killing the flock of harpies. That the feeling of disappointment was greater was something he couldn't help.
“You two, your unit is... no, but.”
The commander, who had been holding out in a defensive formation like a turtle shell, approached them. He looked baffled.
“Enkrid, Fourth Squad Leader of the Fourth Platoon, Fourth Company,” he said, giving a military salute.
“Squad Leader? Not the frontier garrison?”
He wasn't. “The frontier garrison is over here.” A familiar face, Torres, approached. He raised his hand and spoke.
Even so, his gaze never left Enkrid. His eyes scanned Enkrid from head to toe. He felt like asking just what in the world he had been doing.
How could his skills have improved so much?
“We came to provide support, but…”
I didn't even get to fire a single arrow. What is this, really. Soon, the Fourth Platoon Leader of the Heavy Infantry Company and Torres exchanged brief greetings and sorted out the situation.
Enkrid was listening to their conversation when he suddenly asked a question. It was a rather important matter to him.
“Is it over?”
“... What are you asking?”
“The monster subjugation. I was wondering if it's over now.”
What is he, why is he asking? The two lightly armored infantrymen who had killed four harpies. Two ordinary soldiers had saved a Heavy Infantry platoon.
It wasn't some grand achievement, but it seemed like something worthy of a reward. And one of them was seriously asking if this was the end. The other one, who looked like he was from a foreign tribe, was busy chuckling beside him.
What is this combination of crazy bastards. the Platoon Leader thought as he replied.
“The original target is the subjugation of the pack of man-faced hounds, so no, it's not over.”
The Platoon Leader hadn't forgotten the purpose of the dispatch. Because a pack of man-faced hounds had formed a group near the Border Guard, the movements of guilds and traveling merchants had been restricted. Wasn't that why they had set out?
The pack of man-faced hounds hadn't appeared on the main roads where the guilds traveled, outside the city walls. But considering that one or two of them were being sighted nearby, it was clear that a problem would soon arise. It was a mission to guarantee the safety of the city by subjugating the nearby monsters.
“I'd like to join you.”
At Enkrid's words, the Platoon Leader thought.
‘Does he want to fight more? He looks like he's itching for a fight. Is there something wrong with my eyes?’
There was nothing wrong with his eyes; he was correct. What the Platoon Leader was seeing was the right answer.