Chapter 113: Yeah, I'm Back
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 113: Yeah, I'm Back
"Today's quota is filled."
It was the third day since their deployment.
What had begun as a minor provocation had spiraled into a full-scale melee. For three consecutive days, Rem had waded into the slaughter, returning each time looking exactly the same as when he left.
He shook his twin axes, splattering the accumulated blood onto the dirt.
Every time Rem stepped onto the battlefield, he killed exactly three men before turning back. His axe swings were so effortless and devastating that his targets looked like nothing more than dry firewood.
Living firewood that spilled brains and guts when split wide open.
The moment the two armies clashed, he would instantly slash, hack, and crush skulls before making his way back to the lines. Any commander who didn't salivate at such a sight wasn't fit to wear their badge. To anyone with a discerning eye, he was a talent they couldn't afford to lose.
And Rem wasn't the only one.
"I can handle things on my own. Why do they keep saddling me with these soldiers?"
The man named Ragna, who dragged his feet with a look of terminal boredom, was no different. At first, he hadn't stood out at all. He fought half-heartedly, simply holding his ground until it was time to retreat. Unless someone actively tried to kill him, he didn't bother risking his life.
What a waste of talent.
The Elf Company Commander was among those who recognized Ragna's true skill. He had watched the man from a distance, waiting.
Then, one day, Ragna supposedly got lost during a troop movement between sectors.
How do you even get lost here? the commander wondered.
It wasn't as if he had to navigate a mountain range or secretly cross a river to raid the enemy's main camp. All the battalion had done was shift the camp back a few miles. Regardless, Ragna had wandered toward enemy lines by mistake—a blunder that should have meant certain death.
Yet, he had returned completely unscathed.
He strolled back into camp at a leisurely pace, dangling the severed head of an enemy commander from his fingertip.
"Ah, no wonder I felt like turning left back there," he had tossed out casually upon his return.
"You said you got lost?" the Elf Company Commander had asked.
A simple nod was the only answer he received. That was the end of it.
From the very beginning, the commander hadn't intended to force anything on them. Those were the terms under which they had been recruited. He only had to use one name to get them to move.
"Fill the vacancy left by your platoon leader."
To them, the name Encrid was a magic word.
"No, the brass are the ones who sent him away, so why are they telling us to fill the vacancy?" Rem had grumbled.
"If you slack off, it’ll reflect poorly on Encrid. Do you want to cause trouble for him?"
The commander had barely finished his sentence before the men, who usually snorted at the order to deploy, began packing their gear.
"Three a day. That’s all I’m doing," Rem stated.
"Sure," Ragna agreed.
Sachsen gave a silent nod.
"As God calls," the religious fanatic, Audin, added.
Andrew, Mac, and Enri followed without a word; they did as they were told regardless. Krais was currently away on leave.
Andrew, sporting a fresh black eye, actually seemed to welcome the deployment. The same went for Mac, whose opposite eye was bruised just as badly.
"The battlefield! Fighting! Deployment!"
Seeing them show such excitement at a combat order, Rem smirked. "You like this? You really shouldn't be happy about it."
For a split second, the Elf Company Commander saw the shadow of a demon in that smile. It vanished the moment he blinked.
That was how he managed to lead them.
The skills of Sachsen and Audin were easily on par with the others. Even when Sachsen only pretended to try, the enemy soldiers blocking his path couldn't land a single scratch on him.
"Why can't I hit you?! Pant, pant... Just you wait!" an enemy soldier had screamed in frustration. Sachsen hadn't even bothered to reply, treating the man like a barking dog. He often returned without a drop of blood on him—his own or the enemy's.
Audin had only deployed once so far, but the moment he appeared, he had snapped an opponent's forearm with his bare hands. Those who witnessed it felt their hair stand on end, even though they were on the same side.
A broken arm? In war, that was nothing. But to gently grasp a man's wrist and snap it like a dry twig—what kind of strength was that? It made one wonder if he was even human.
"Fuck, stay back! Stay away from me!"
If his allies found it chilling, the enemy was paralyzed with terror. Audin drew every eye on the battlefield just by existing. Though smaller than a Giant, he was a terrifyingly massive figure, standing two heads taller than the average soldier with shoulders like a fortress.
There aren't even ten of them, yet their combat power...
The Elf Company Commander marveled. It was as if the number of experts on his own level had suddenly multiplied tenfold. Simply calling them "excellent" was an understatement. If used correctly, they were a trump card that could harass the enemy far beyond their numerical strength.
This must be why.
This was surely the reason they had survived this long despite the endless string of incidents, accidents, and insubordination. As the one who had brought them in, the Elf Company Commander watched over them with a heavy sense of responsibility.
This was the limit of the cooperation they permitted.
So, what happened if someone demanded more?
"You lazy bastards! Who said you could retreat?"
The speaker was a platoon leader who knew nothing—a fresh transfer who hadn't heard the rumors. He didn't know the "Mad Platoon." He didn't know Rem, who was famous for assaulting superiors, or Audin, who wouldn't hesitate to separate flesh from bone if he deemed it God's will. He didn't know Sachsen, who radiated a silent, freezing killing intent. As for Ragna, he simply didn't care enough to look up.
Andrew was the one who stepped in front of the clueless officer. Rem’s temper was already fraying.
If I don't stop this, there's going to be a bloodbath.
And if it ended with just blood, that would be a mercy. Rem was more likely to split the man's skull.
"We belong to the Independent Platoon. Operational command lies solely with our direct superior," Andrew said, citing the regulations perfectly.
"What? So you're just going to watch from the rear?" the new officer barked.
He couldn't tolerate it. Fighting half-heartedly, retreating whenever they felt like it, and slacking off in the barracks while others risked their lives? Had they lost their minds? Independent Platoon or not, he wasn't going to let this nonsense slide.
In the man's self-righteous anger, Andrew saw a reflection of his past self—the arrogant fool who had looked down on Encrid.
Sigh.
Andrew let out a long, weary sigh and looked up at the sky before lowering his gaze. He looked like a man who had given up on the world.
"My name is Andrew Gardner, eldest son of the Gardner family. This unit contains nobility. Just get lost."
He didn't mean a word of it. His expression was hollow, lacking any real arrogance, but he couldn't afford to worry about his acting skills. Mac silently walked over and patted his back in a show of solidarity.
"D-does being a noble make you special?" the officer stammered, his lips twitching as the atmosphere turned predatory.
"Hmm. I think I need to see what his guts look like," Rem muttered.
The moment Rem moved, Andrew immediately challenged the officer to a duel. He beat the man to a pulp right then and there, giving Rem no reason to swing his axe. In the end, Andrew was the only one who got reprimanded.
"Noble or not, this is the military," the Elf Company Commander scolded him afterward.
"I will reflect on my actions," Andrew replied.
The commander patted his shoulder. He scolded with words but comforted with his touch, conveying that he understood the sacrifice.
Encrid’s Independent Platoon.
It was no exaggeration to say that Andrew was the primary reason the "Mad Platoon" hadn't been executed for treason yet. By acting as Rem’s frequent sparring partner, he suppressed the man's urge to kill. And by dealing with those who picked fights out of ignorance, he kept the peace.
Still, morale within the wider unit was a mess, partly because of the Mad Platoon’s antics.
Currently, the 1st Infantry Battalion was stationed northeast of the Border Guard. It was a gravelly, desolate field flanked by the Pen-Hanil River on the left and a series of low hills on the right. Since the main force and the knight orders had deployed to the Greenpearl Plains to confront the enemy's primary army, the 1st Battalion’s role was to hold the line here.
They were a wall meant to prevent flanking maneuvers. Their fate would be decided by the outcome of the main battle. If their allies won, knights would arrive to sweep the enemy away. If they lost, the 1st Battalion would have to face the enemy's knights alone.
That was the plan. But as both sides sized each other up, this minor battlefield had unexpectedly become a focal point.
The Naurilian army was being pushed back. Rumors of Giant soldiers among the enemy ranks were spreading. A few enemy champions had begun provoking them, mocking the battalion's strength. Morale was crumbling.
They needed a variable. Something to seize the initiative.
And the Battalion Commander saw exactly what that variable was. The Mad Platoon was impossible to ignore.
"We just need them to fight properly. Do they have any demands? It looks like they'll desert if we try to force them," Battalion Commander Marcus noted. He was a wise man who recognized the platoon's volatile nature at a glance.
"They need their platoon leader," the Elf Company Commander replied.
The permission was granted instantly. "Bring him in."
The Company Commander saluted and turned. That morning, Rem had made a declaration: "Bring our platoon leader back. Fighting without knowing if the man is alive or dead is killing the mood."
It was a thinly veiled threat that he would stop filling his "quota" if they didn't comply.
A scout messenger had been dispatched immediately. Three days later, Platoon Leader Encrid stood before the Company Commander.
"Shouldn't you have returned the moment you were reinstated? Didn't you miss me?" the Elf joked.
Seeing Encrid’s face twist into a grimace brought him a strange sense of satisfaction. Looking at that scowling face, the frustration of managing the disobedient Mad Platoon finally began to melt away.
Those blockheads.
The commander’s gaze drifted to Encrid’s right wrist. "An injury?"
"I got into a scuffle with some thugs back in the territory."
"Was that thug named Frok, by any chance?"
At the mention of the name, the gazes of Krais and Esther, who had accompanied Encrid, snapped to the commander. Only Encrid remained calm, knowing it was just a dry elven joke.
"It’s not serious."
His wrist wasn't broken. The bone was stressed, but not to the point where he couldn't grip a sword. His grueling training with the Isolation Technique had paid off.
"In any case, welcome back," the commander said.
Encrid saluted, and the Elf nodded in return. "Now, go on."
Encrid immediately headed toward the barracks. He wanted to get there as quickly as possible. Even when he was with them, they were a disaster waiting to happen; he could only imagine the chaos they had caused in his absence.
*
Should I just quit?
At first, there were always clueless officers to mess with. Now, everyone stayed away. Toying with Andrew was getting boring.
There's no reason for me to stay here.
Rem was seriously considering desertion. He wasn't thinking of an honorable discharge—he was just going to vanish. The thought grew stronger with every day Encrid was gone.
If he doesn't show up today, I'm gone.
Despite his thoughts, Rem repeated his routine. It was a tedious existence. Even the battlefield failed to spark his interest.
"Die!" an enemy soldier screamed.
Boring. So boring.
If you're going to kill me, just thrust the spear. Why run your mouth? Your breathing is off, and the tip of your blade is shaking.
Rem swung his axe vertically. The blade slammed into the spearhead.
Clang!
"Ugh!"
With a single blow, the soldier’s grip shattered, and he dropped his weapon. Dropping a weapon in the middle of a fight? This bastard wasn't even a fraction of the platoon leader. Comparing them was a sin.
Crack.
The axe split the man's skull. Still tedious.
He returned after his three kills, the boredom weighing on him like lead. This place was losing its meaning. Now that they had moved to the rear, there wasn't even any real combat.
Ragna was in a similar state. He lacked any shred of motivation.
Did he die?
If not, why was there no news? Without the platoon leader, Ragna had reverted to his old self. He couldn't muster the energy to care. Even suffering felt like too much effort. He spent his days idly, doing the bare minimum.
Audin offered a prayer to his God. Is it time for me to return?
His Lord answered as always—with the silence of respect for his free will. Since there was no answer, Audin had to look into his own heart. Shall I stay, or shall I go? He had yet to find the answer.
Sachsen had joined the army for a purpose. That purpose was largely fulfilled. He could leave whenever he wished. To stay was inefficient—a waste of time.
Tonight, Sachsen resolved.
Of course, he had made that same resolution for the last three days.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dark shadows over the camp. Inside the barracks of the "Mad Platoon," the air was thick with stagnation.
Then, someone stepped through the entrance.
"I'm back."
A calm, flat statement. Just like always.
The barracks fell into a stunned silence. While the others exchanged glances, an unexpected figure was the first to move.
"Waaahhh! Why did you take so long?! Why are you so late?!"
Andrew lunged forward, tears streaming down his face. His bruised eyes were a testament to the stress he had endured. His sobbing laid bare his relief.
Encrid looked at Andrew’s battered face and couldn't help but chuckle.
"How the hell is he faster than me?" Rem’s voice drifted from behind Andrew.
Behind him stood Ragna, Audin, and Sachsen. Mac and Enri watched from the corner. Every eye in the room locked onto Encrid.
"Yeah," Encrid said, his voice steady. "I'm back."