Chapter 127 - Today's Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow's Victory (3)
"Mm."
It was the dead of night.
At Enkrid's groan, Esther lifted her head.
'Stupid human.'
Why was he pushing his body like this?
Esther had learned something before.
If she used up all her power to relieve his fatigue, she would only end up exhausting herself first.
And the reason for that?
It was because she had become too absorbed in the magic tome he had picked up.
'It is useful, but…'
There was much to discern and sort through.
As she mulled over it alone, she suddenly realized that, at this moment, she couldn't even see her own spell world.
That thought made her feel miserable.
'Why am I in this state…?'
"Whew."
That moment of self-pity lasted only briefly.
Before she could even lament her circumstances, the man holding her in his arms let out another groan.
A lunatic who, no matter the situation, started every single day with training.
She didn't know what he carried within his body, but whatever it was, it was gradually breaking down the curse that afflicted her.
'Might as well get to work.'
Since the rate of that breakdown accelerated when the man was in good condition, Esther did her best as usual to relieve his fatigue.
Unable to open her spell world, she instead used her body as a medium, drawing out his exhaustion and dispersing it.
And in the process, fragments of the man's dreams or thoughts occasionally projected into her consciousness.
Before, she would only see an indiscriminate flood of swords—
Or, at times, a deep, black well.
Tonight, however, she glimpsed a portion of a dream.
The dream seemed to be a piece of the man's past.
Through the chaotic visions, a face began to take shape.
For whatever reason, the face was deeply imprinted on the man holding her, making it appear vividly clear.
Esther frowned at what she saw.
'Ugly as hell.'
It wasn't that the person was objectively unattractive.
Rather, there was an overwhelming sense of meanness about them.
That was the impression she got.
More accurately, it was likely how Enkrid himself perceived the man.
Esther continued watching his dream.
Though long in the dream, in reality, it was just a fleeting moment.
'Stop wandering.'
As if telling him to focus on what he needed to do.
Esther rebuked him.
A dream like that only made it harder to disperse his fatigue.
At her silent reprimand, the dream abruptly ended, and the groans slipping from the man's lips ceased.
Soon, the only sound in her ears was the deep, steady breathing of a man who had fallen into a deep sleep.
The moment Enkrid opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming.
'Again?'
What surprised him was that he was seeing the same dream once more.
If the ferryman of the black river had appeared, he might have just accepted it.
But this was a moment from his past, one he had dreamed of countless times already.
Once, he had considered this an outright nightmare.
But after recalling it so many times, it had merely become another memory.
"You… Hm, I'll let you live."
A sharp surge of killing intent.
A mercenary with triangular eyes.
Beside him lay a fallen comrade, one who had started working with him only three days prior.
Even with such a short acquaintance, they had no choice but to trust each other's backs in battle.
No—perhaps "had no choice" was the wrong way to put it.
It had all begun with a request to exterminate beasts.
"There are a few harpies causing trouble. If you could deal with them, we'd be grateful."
It was a village near the outskirts of the kingdom.
The residents had pooled their meager funds to gather enough krona to hire help.
The village chief's son had traveled to the nearest city and hired five mercenaries.
Enkrid had been among them.
And so had that bastard.
A sharp, cawing cry.
A harpy's talons plunged down, its large, heaving chest rising and falling.
One of his longtime comrades lost his life to the harpy's attack.
He had once told him
'You should learn to read the room. If you keep rushing in like that, you won't die a natural death.'
His words were harsh, but he was a decent mercenary at heart.
He wasn't someone who should've died like that.
But the triangular-eyed bastard had stabbed him from behind.
Struck by both the harpy and the betrayal of a fellow human—
A combined technique of monster and man.
Afterward, the triangular-eyed mercenary drew his sword and swung it.
Tiririring!
A strange sound rang out as the thin blade cut through the air, stretching and bending in a bizarre manner.
It moved too fast to see clearly.
Swish!
The sword cut through the air with an eerie whistle.
And then, as it sliced through the air, it pierced his comrade's skull.
Through the heart, the thigh, the forearm—the flexible blade twisted and danced, slaughtering everything in it's path.
When it was over, the bastard had said, "I'll let you live."
A bloodied grin, killing intent scattering like dust.
Eyes that deemed him unworthy of even being an opponent.
Enkrid hadn't screamed.
He hadn't raged.
He had simply raised his sword.
"What? You wanna fight me?"
There was nothing to say.
They hadn't even exchanged many blows before Enkrid's shoulder was pierced.
"I told you—I'll let you live."
That was it.
And then the bastard left.
Enkrid had survived afterward largely due to sheer luck.
"I heard everyone died. How did you…?"
He had barely managed to escape the beast-infested land and reach a village.
After recovering, he embarked on a journey, risking his life once more to reach a city.
By then, the bastard was long gone.
He couldn't even lodge a complaint with the guild.
The man had already become a central figure in it.
Years later, rumors spread that he had ended up a drifter.
Supposedly, he had messed with the wrong noble's daughter.
That was just like him.
The reason he had killed Enkrid's comrade back then was just as trivial.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing?"
The old mercenary, aware of the bastard's habits, had called him out on his behavior.
That had been enough.
Why had he spared Enkrid?
He had never asked, so he would never know.
But he could guess.
It reeked of self-satisfaction.
A weak mercenary unworthy of being killed.
The ones who had died must have deserved it.
That was the bastard's twisted logic.
"Pathetic bastard."
That had been his parting remark.
Enkrid had thought the world was unfair.
And that skill and character were completely separate matters.
'A piece of shit.'
But a dream was just a dream.
If he had been just an ordinary man—
He might have obsessed over revenge.
But he didn't.
If an opportunity arose, he would take up his sword and demand justice.
But he wouldn't burn his life away for it.
He wouldn't throw himself away for the fallen comrade who had lost his life.
He would leave behind all grievances and memories—
And set his life ablaze in pursuit of his own dream.
That was the way Enkrid lived.
Steadfast and unyielding.
'You're not even worth killing.'
Even if the bastard looked down on him—
Rather than let himself be wounded by that, he would simply press forward.
Even if dark, damp, terrifying, and painful memories threatened to swallow him whole.
He simply endured it in silence and shook it off.
'A meaningless act.'
Did despair and suffering pressing down on his shoulders ever help him when wielding his sword?
Could they serve as good milestones on the path to the life he desired?
No.
So he didn't allow it.
Instead of despairing, he swung his sword.
Instead of dwelling on the deaths of his comrades, he swung his sword.
Instead of vowing revenge, he swung his sword.
"Shall I kill you this time?"
His dream twisted.
Somehow, the ferryman seemed to appear faintly behind the man.
As memories surged like waves, turning into a chaotic sea and coloring his surroundings—
Nyaa.
Somewhere, the drowsy cry of a beast rang out.
That was it.
The dream blurred and broke apart.
'Stop wandering.'
A voice was heard.
Clear and pure, yet burning with heat.
That was the feeling it gave.
'Esther?'
For no reason, Enkrid thought of the blue-eyed panther.
At the end of the shattered, fragmented dream—
Bwooooooo.
The sound of a horn roused Enkrid from sleep.
This time, it was reality.
He saw the familiar ceiling of a tent.
The panther nestled in his arms was sleeping soundly, breathing softly as if dead to the world.
Its faint warmth spread through his chest.
Turning his head outside the tent, he saw that the morning sun had yet to rise.
A deep blue hue gently seeped through.
Enkrid wasn't the only one who reacted to the horn.
"Morning."
It was Rem.
Having jumped up, he was already gathering his gear.
"Damn, it's still cold."
The barbarian particularly hated the cold.
Though there wasn't even the biting wind he used to call a 'piercing gale,' he still grumbled.
Yet, his hands didn't stop moving.
He put on a gambeson, which wasn't particularly thick, and strapped two axes to his waist before standing up.
Audin also rose, grabbing his two clubs.
"May this day be filled with blessings. Good morning, brothers."
No one answered, but no one rebuked him either.
Jaxen had already equipped himself, though no one knew when he woke up.
Even Ragna, who would normally be called lazy, was already moving today.
Though he didn't leap up or hurry, he quietly gathered his gear.
Enkrid didn't just stand there watching.
He had three Whistle Daggers left.
He put on a thin shirt, which served as underwear, followed by a leather cuirass with a tear near the right shoulder.
The leather armor was thin and supple, comfortable to wear
After donning the gambeson over it, he pulled on his boots and gauntlets, completing his preparation.
A guard sword at his waist.
A knife strapped to his left leg.
His right gauntlet still bore the marks from his battle with the Frog.
Now that he thought about it, both his leather armor and gauntlets were half-ruined.
'Could they be mended with some stitching?'
Probably not.
But that wasn't something to deal with now.
Andrew, Mac, and Enri—because they were in the Madmen Unit, they were called the youngest or dead weight, but they were experienced soldiers in their own right.
Andrew, in particular, had proven his skill by taking down an enemy soldier before.
The thrill of that moment had faded, but his confidence remained.
They, too, armed themselves.
"What's going on?"
Andrew asked.
"What do you think?"
Rem shot him a look of disbelief.
"Seems like the ones who were hiding have come out."
Mac put together the situation in his head.
What other reason would there be to blow a horn at dawn, especially when the fog was thick, obscuring vision?
Krais rubbed his eyes, coming to the same conclusion.
'Damn, if they attack this early in the morning, my skin's going to suffer.'
Those idle thoughts faded quickly, and his mind spun rapidly.
The army had been running more reconnaissance than usual.
The guards were on high alert.
They hadn't indulged in victory drinks.
No extra food had been distributed.
That meant the battle wasn't over.
Each unit's commander had likely kept their troops disciplined.
A won battle was still a won battle.
But preparation for the next was necessary.
There was an old saying on the battlefield—
Today's victory does not guarantee tomorrow's.
'That commander really is capable.'
Krais held Marcus in high regard.
He didn't understand all his decisions, but they seemed reasonable enough.
"Form up! All troops, assemble!"
A messenger's voice rang outside.
Something about the enemy's movements felt strange to Krais.
Why were they just holed up in their base, waiting?
If they were going to run, they should've run.
If they were going to make a last stand, they should've fought.
If they needed reinforcements, they should've signaled for them.
But instead, they just hid?
Why?
Simple questions didn't always have simple answers.
But sometimes, they did.
'They must think they still have the advantage. Or that they have a chance to turn things around.'
Which meant they had another trick up their sleeve.
The battalion commander surely knew that.
Now it was a matter of whose prediction was more accurate.
Was the sword Aspen had prepared sharper?
Or was their commander's shield sturdier?
Not that Krais had any say in such matters.
"Unless you plan to stay behind, hurry up and get ready."
Enkrid lightly tapped Krais's head, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Ah, right."
At any rate, today, he was going to stick close to this side.
Enkrid could see through Krais's intentions.
For the time being, it looked like he had no plans to leave his side. Otherwise, he wouldn't have put on that gambeson.
Nobody wants to die, but seeing how much Krais valued his own life, Enkrid found it rather amusing.
A survivor.
That's how he seemed.
***
Outside the tent, the camp was bustling with activity.
Soldiers gathered in their own ways, responding to the war horns and the messengers' calls.
"Heh, I smell it. I smell it."
Rem looked oddly pleased.
"The fog is a nuisance, but hmm, it's fine."
Ragna wasn't slacking off.
"If you sharpen your senses, the fog won't be an obstacle."
Jaxen was unusually kind today.
"The Lord says there are many empty seats in heaven today."
Audin's prayer sounded more vicious than ever.
Filling the empty seats in heaven?
That sounded like a declaration to slaughter.
Andrew, Mac, and Enri as well.
Their bodies felt light.
During yesterday's sparring, Enkrid had felt an endless surge of strength.
As if he were drawing on the power of tomorrow, using it all today.
'Good.'
Despite the brutal training the day before, he felt even better today. No, he felt stronger than yesterday.
'No pain in my wrist.'
The cuts and stab wounds had already started healing with fresh skin.
A harmony created by divine blessings and fairy medicine.
"Advance! Move out! Forward! Forward!"
At the front, the messenger's voice rang out.
Through the thick fog, the allied forces began to march.
The riverbank mist was denser than ever, but it didn't feel supernatural.
Just a gut feeling, but the enemy wasn't foolish enough to use the same trick twice.
And their side had likely prepared for it.
"This is good. Real good."
Rem kept flapping his mouth.
"What is?"
"Today feels like it's gonna be fun."
Sometimes, Enkrid wondered what the hell was inside Rem's head.
The problem was—Enkrid felt the same way.
Beyond the fog, he sensed something new approaching.
His heart started pounding with excitement.
Everyone around him, even the commanders at the front, stood tense in formation.
Then—
"Shit!"
A soldier in the vanguard cursed.
"Shoot! Fire, now!"
Beyond the hazy mist, Enkrid saw something peculiar.
A blurry, gray silhouette.
It had the size of a bear, with its head towering high above.
It was even larger than Audin.
A monster with a head about one and a half times taller than Enkrid was tearing through the rain of arrows, charging straight at them.