Chapter 112: Deploy Immediately
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 112: Deploy Immediately
It lasted only a single moment.
I saw it.
The way to catch Frok. The way to kill him. The path to victory.
Letters were carved onto the signpost of fate, and a clear trail opened before his eyes.
Could this "today" finally be the one that satisfied him?
He had rested for an entire day to ensure he was in peak condition, preparing for the "today" he would inevitably repeat. Now, all he had to do was die and start the cycle over again, but...
Frok’s blade did not fall.
His bloodlust and fighting spirit remained as sharp as ever, yet the blade refused to move. It jerked to a halt in midair, as if an invisible hand were holding it back.
Pffft.
Frok’s cheeks puffed out and deflated in a rhythmic, unsettling habit.
Why?
Frok’s gaze, which Encrid could not see from his position, was fixed on something behind the human who had just cut his arm.
There stood a panther with eyes like deep, blue lakes.
A Lake Panther.
In certain regions, they were treated as sacred beasts—sometimes even revered as guardian deities. But Frok did not belong to a species that cared for such superstitions. To his kind, a beast was merely a beast.
In other words, he hadn't stopped simply because a mere Lake Panther was glaring at him.
Damn it.
Frok cursed inwardly. Instead of sweat, his smooth skin began to secrete a thin, slimy mucus—a physical reaction that occurred whenever he grew truly tense.
Frok, marked by the white scar on his neck, was a veteran of countless battles. Those experiences included several brushes with mages.
Mages—bizarre existences that manifested the Spell World into reality. They were nuisances, nothing but trouble to deal with.
He could feel that very energy radiating from the Lake Panther’s black fur and piercing eyes. Through his seasoned instincts and his gaze as a Talent Reader, the traces of mana were clearly visible.
That panther either commanded the Spell World itself or was, at the very least, deeply connected to it.
Frok’s instincts screamed a warning. If he swung his sword now, he could certainly kill this man, but...
I’d have to risk my own life to do it, wouldn't I?
And the spell-casting panther wasn't the only problem. The human sitting before him was no pushover either.
The man had relentlessly aimed for Frok’s heart, only to suddenly pivot and strike his arm. That final move... the sword, the blade, the sheer will and fighting spirit that had clashed against Frok’s own broad blade—it wasn't a simple motion. By shifting his weight and driving through his feet, the man had momentarily displayed a level of strength comparable to Frok’s own.
Compared to Frok, the man had a small build. That left only one conclusion: the quality of his muscles was extraordinary.
On top of that...
Look at those eyes.
The light in them hadn't faded. Even now, the fighting spirit in his gaze remained undiminished. How could he look like that when he didn't stand a single chance?
It was as if the man had been molded out of the very concept of "will." He looked like something that would never break, no matter the pressure. He didn't even seem to be relying on the magic-wielding panther behind him; he was simply burning with pure, unadulterated fighting spirit.
Crazy bastard.
Pffft.
Frok’s cheeks puffed out to their absolute limit.
He did not like this situation one bit. He mentally brought out a scale to weigh his options. Was this man worth risking his life to kill here and now? Or should he bide his time?
Under normal circumstances, he would have killed him. He was exactly the kind of human who deserved to be put down. But with his own life on the other side of the scale, he had to reconsider.
His Talent Reader gaze scanned Encrid. He calculated meticulously. Although Frok’s specialty was fighting when he wanted, eating when he wanted, and loving when he wanted... his life was on the line. Furthermore, as someone bound to a certain organization, he had duties to fulfill.
Did he really need to kill this man if it meant risking his life and neglecting those duties?
The scale tipped. There was no need to think twice. This territory, the frontier fortress of Border Guard, wasn't of particularly high importance anyway.
Frok’s cheeks finally deflated. He lowered the blade that had been on the verge of striking. His fighting spirit began to recede.
That is his limit.
That was Frok’s assessment. He judged that it would be difficult for the human before him to become any stronger than he currently was. The quality of his muscles was good, and his momentary strength was impressive. His swordsmanship and tactics were excellent, and his unyielding spirit made him feel like a creature Frok had never encountered before.
And yet... Frok knew instinctively.
Half of it was luck.
Though his arm had been cut by that final move, he had shattered the opponent’s right wrist in exchange. This meant the trick the opponent had pulled relied on a gamble.
The next time they met, he would kill him. As long as there was a next time, the result was certain.
“Do not forget, human. My name is Meelun.”
That was all. His fighting spirit vanished as if it had never existed, and Frok stepped back. Meelun locked eyes with Esther, who stood behind Encrid.
I’m leaving, so back off too.
He shot her a look that conveyed the message clearly. Esther did not react. She merely stared back silently with her lake-like eyes.
Meelun picked up his cloak from the floor and retreated. He walked leisurely out of the mansion, and no one dared to stop him. A few guild members glanced around hesitantly, but Krais cut them off.
“Stop hesitating and clear the way. Our guest is leaving.”
Even with one arm out of commission, Frok was still Frok. And so, the monster departed.
*
Thanks to the grimoire Encrid had brought, Esther had found a way to bypass the shackles placed on her body. Although she couldn't return to her human form immediately, she could manifest a portion of the Spell World even in her panther body.
Of course, it’ll be a pain every time I do it.
She would have to expend her accumulated mana, and there was a risk that a part of her Spell World might become corrupted. It was a method from the grimoire of that lunatic who had built his Spell World using corpses—a loophole among loopholes.
Still...
I’ll have to use it someday anyway.
It was a useful trick to know. That was why she had committed it to memory, and that "someday" had turned out to be today.
Esther feigned a calm she didn't feel and projected her presence, making Frok aware that she was a mage.
If you swing that blade, I will drive something into your heart as well.
Will could sometimes become mana. For a brief moment, Esther made herself appear not as a panther, but as Esther the Mage.
The result was a success. That man—whether his name was Meelun or Melon—had backed down.
If Esther’s body had been in perfect condition, it would have been a different story. But in her current state, even if she and Encrid had gone all out together, their chances of winning were fifty-fifty at best.
The reason the opponent had retreated...
It was luck.
That was the only logical conclusion. Encrid’s skills had improved beyond recognition—Esther had been deeply surprised by his growth—but that alone wasn't enough to make Frok retreat.
Of course, before calling it luck, one had to acknowledge that the situation had already been warped. And that situation had been created by the man who had come to her side out of necessity.
His left arm.
Encrid had aimed for the arm, not the heart. If Encrid had kept aiming for the heart and then backed off, Frok would have kept pushing. But he had nearly severed Frok’s left arm. At that point, it might actually be faster for Frok to chop it off and let a new one grow rather than trying to reattach it.
A swordsman missing an arm was someone they could actually handle.
Damn it.
How did things end up like this?
Esther let out a sigh and nudged the back of the man who had almost made her squander all her painstakingly accumulated mana. Why wasn't this bastard getting up?
“Es— urgh!”
It seemed Encrid had also been holding on by a thread. He began to retch violently. Esther quickly hopped backward to avoid the mess.
Krais approached. “Are you alright? No, wait... about finding Ragna. Did you... did you understand what I said?”
“Phew.”
Perhaps feeling a bit better after emptying his stomach, Encrid pushed himself up. “You’ve been holed up here for six days without even deploying, and you don't even know where the squad went? Are you really supposed to be the one handling information?”
His tone wasn't scolding; it was flat and weary.
“Huh?”
Only then did Krais realize what he had missed. Come to think of it, the squad members were faces he usually saw the moment he returned. He had heard news of the deployment, but who would take the squad members without Encrid?
Unless some commander had a death wish and wanted a hole bored into the back of their skull.
An officer-killer, a directionally challenged slacker, a soldier who vanished without a word at the drop of a hat, and a religious fanatic who couldn't fight without his god’s permission... Seriously, who would take such a bunch of oddballs?
He had naturally assumed they would remain at the base and wait for their squad leader. It was a massive miscalculation.
“They’re not here. They’ve all deployed.”
“That’s unexpected. Then, is it just you and Esther, Squad Leader?”
“Yeah.”
Krais slipped his hands under Encrid’s armpits to help him up. “Are you badly hurt?”
“Aside from my right hand, I’d say it’s manageable.”
As he answered, Encrid realized his physical condition was better than expected. Then, a question arose.
Why did he just leave?
With just one more swing of his sword, both he and Krais would have been dead.
Why?
Encrid’s gaze fell upon Esther.
What did you do? Seriously? Against Frok, of all people?
He was currently feeling the full, terrifying weight of the name "Frok." What could that small, young panther have possibly done? He didn't know. He couldn't fathom it at all.
“Meow.”
Sensing his gaze, Esther let out a scolding cry, as if asking if he was really going to collapse over something so minor.
Encrid caught his breath and organized his thoughts. He didn't know the answer, and dwelling on it wouldn't bring one. He knew from experience: what was unknown remained unknown. Instead, Encrid decided to be satisfied with the experience he had gained for "tomorrow"—the driving force to keep moving forward.
It worked.
Even if only for a fleeting moment, he had felt what it was like to overwhelm Frok. He had drawn the monster into his trap and cut him. He had taken an arm. Not his heart, but his arm. It would regenerate—Frok would surely see to that—but not in the middle of their fight.
If only he had avoided the strike aimed at his right wrist at the very end... the outcome would have been different. There was much to learn from reviewing this fight.
Encrid made his way back to his quarters. Krais supported him, and Esther, instead of leaping into his arms, glanced back once before walking closely by his side.
They had just arrived at the quarters and were about to go inside to rest when a voice called out.
“Where on earth have you been!”
It was the 2nd Company Commander, the superior of the Vengeance Platoon Leader. He was drenched in sweat, as if he had been searching frantically for Encrid.
Why is a company commander running around in person like a messenger?
Just as Encrid was about to salute, the commander spoke first.
“Immediately! You must deploy.”
“I’m slightly injured...” Encrid started. If possible, he wanted to rest for a day or two. His presence alone wouldn't make a massive difference on the battlefield anyway. He was just a single platoon leader who had recently returned. He thought they might show him some leniency.
“What? How?” The commander surely knew he had returned from the mission in one piece.
“I got into a scuffle with some thugs.”
“What were you thinking at a time like this?” The Company Commander scolded him but shook his head as if there was no time to argue. “It’s not your sword skills we need right now, Platoon Leader. If you can move, I must request that you head out immediately.”
The Company Commander did not order him; it was practically a plea. To Encrid’s ears, that sounded like something had gone terribly wrong on the front lines.
Why?
Encrid hadn't even heard how the battle was progressing yet. Upon his return, he had spent the first day doing nothing but resting. And today, he was on his way back from a fierce clash with Frok.
“Ranger Finn has agreed to accompany you. Can you set off right away?”
“What’s going on that makes it so urgent?” Krais asked, voicing the question they all had. Since they were acquainted, the Company Commander answered without hesitation.
“Well... they said they won’t fight anymore unless we bring their platoon leader...”
The Company Commander trailed off, but Encrid understood immediately.
“Are you talking about my men?”
“You can consider this deployment a mission to persuade them. A request came in saying you can just rest in the rear, as long as you are present on the battlefield. It’s a direct request from your company commander.”
It seemed he had to go. He didn't have the luxury of resting just because his wrist was busted. It wasn't as if he couldn't hold a sword at all.
Rem.
Encrid felt a surge of worry the moment he heard the news. He could get the full briefing on the way. He only needed to apply some medicine to his scratches before setting off.
“Yes, sir.”
Encrid saluted. He would depart immediately.