Chapter 114: Because He Advanced, Even If He Had to Crawl
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 114: Because He Advanced, Even If He Had to Crawl
The soldier guiding Encrid to his quarters rubbed his eyes, certain his vision was playing tricks on him.
Is this right?
No, it couldn't be. Something had to be wrong with his eyes.
The moment he saw the Platoon Leader, the soldier named Ragna stood up.
Why the hell is he jumping up?
Ragna was a man who rarely stood for anything, earning him the nickname "the Lazy Madman" even among the notorious Madman Platoon. And yet, that very man had sprung to his feet in an instant.
Anyone who had watched him until now—especially those who had seen him recently—would have slapped their thighs and jumped out of their seats in sheer shock.
What is wrong with him?
Just seeing him stand was enough to rattle everyone nearby. That bastard was the crazy, lazy piece of shit who wouldn't budge even if you screamed in his ear until it was calloused that the enemy was invading.
"You're late," Ragna muttered, picking up his sword. "I need to check if you've regressed in the meantime..."
Standing up wasn't enough; now he was suddenly initiating a spar?
Though harsh words occasionally flew within the squad, Ragna was usually the type to ignore everything. Yet here he was, gripping his sword and burning with motivation as if his body were itching for a fight. Anyone could see he was practically begging to step forward and swing his blade this very second.
"Have you lost your mind?"
Rem stepped in front of Ragna, the Lazy Madman.
"Don't you know the first spar is always mine? Isn't that right?"
What was wrong with this one now?
This man was the one simply called "the Madman." In other words, the craziest bastard in the platoon. The lunatic who swung his axe for no reason. The maniac who would fly into a rage the moment anyone picked a fight.
That very madman was smiling right now. It wasn't a sneer, nor was it a murderous grin. It was a pure, genuine smile. Combined with his distinct barbarian features, it actually looked somewhat innocent.
"Are you hurt?"
On top of that, he was actually worrying about someone else. Who knew that crazy barbarian was capable of concern instead of just splitting heads open with an axe?
The soldier guiding them was actually one of the Battalion Commander's direct adjutants. He had tagged along under the guise of a guide to size up what kind of man this Platoon Leader, Encrid, really was.
But the scene unfolding before his eyes was incredibly bizarre.
"It doesn't look broken."
Now another one was stepping forward. So the bastard actually had a tongue.
Word was he used to be friendly with most of the soldiers in the unit, but recently, he had turned into a lunatic who did nothing but glare. He spoke so rarely that people thought he'd had his tongue cut out.
His name was Sachsen. They called him "the Clear-Eyed Madman." His clear, unblinking gaze—the kind that gave you goosebumps just by looking at you—was incredibly unsettling.
"Did you apply medicine?"
It was surprising enough that the Clear-Eyed Madman was speaking, but now he was even inspecting the Platoon Leader's wrist.
I must be dreaming.
Why had these guys changed so much?
The last one was "the Holy Madman." Rumors about these four had already spread far and wide throughout the unit. Each of them was crazy in their own highly distinct way, but this guy stood out the most.
His build was reminiscent of a massive boulder, yet he walked around with a gentle smile. Most of all, unlike the other lunatics, he was kind. Not that he was obedient, though.
Sometimes, when he prayed, he looked as if he had a halo around him. He looked like he could swallow an entire enemy unit whole just by swinging his fists, yet he was a crazy bastard who claimed he couldn't fight because he hadn't received "God's calling."
To the adjutant, this guy was the truly insane one. Clergymen whose prayers were answered proved themselves through divine power. But this fellow didn't use divine power. What did that mean? Unanswered prayers—meaning he wasn't a real clergyman.
What do you mean, "God's word"?
He invoked God every single day, using it as an excuse to slack off. If you joined the army, shouldn't you obey your superior's orders? Seriously, if he was going to act like this, why was he even here?
The Holy Madman spoke with his usual gentle smile.
"Brother, your training has been lacking. Have you been slacking off? You get hurt because you are lazy. Train. You must train."
Whether he believed in God or not, the madman, who was always polite, was now nagging with a smiling face.
The Madman is giggling. The Clear-Eyed Madman is staring at his wrist with those unsettling eyes. The Lazy Madman looks diligent. And the Holy Madman is nagging?
What was going on? Trying to process this situation felt incredibly, deeply, utterly absurd. The only one who could sort out this mess was the man at the center of it.
The adjutant's gaze shifted to Encrid.
Regardless of who was watching, Encrid spoke his mind.
"It's not broken." He glanced around before continuing. "I just need a little rest. That's not the issue here. What on earth have you guys been doing? Why has the Troublemaker Platoon turned into the Madman Platoon?"
It had been eight days at most. How had a bunch of troublemakers turned into madmen in that short span?
Encrid's question was perfectly reasonable. Rem answered with his usual confidence.
"I reckon it's because we didn't have a Platoon Leader. It's all your fault. Yep, that's how it is. It's all the Platoon Leader's fault."
The Madman had just spouted some crazy nonsense, and then...
"So, what about the spar?" the Lazy Madman chimed in.
"If you underestimate a minor injury, it will cause trouble at a crucial moment. Take off the bandage first. A madman? Who says that? It's my first time hearing it," Sachsen added.
"I know nothing of this, Brother Platoon Leader," Audin finished.
The Clear-Eyed Madman and the Holy Madman offered their own characteristic responses. The adjutant expected Encrid to scold them harshly. A "Madman Platoon"—surely there was a problem here, even if their leader had been absent.
Above all, there was Andrew, who had finally stopped crying and was standing nearby. The platoon member had a massive black eye. That eye was proof enough that there was trouble brewing within the unit.
"What happened to his eye?" Encrid demanded.
"We spared with him. To help him improve," the Madman replied.
"Hmm, well done then," Encrid agreed.
That's well done? His comrade's eye is black and blue! It's so swollen he can barely see out of it!
"Still, I'm not leaving. I'm staying under the Platoon Leader," Andrew said.
His attitude, too, had shifted strangely upon seeing Encrid. Usually, he would walk on eggshells, but now he seemed to be outright defying the others.
"Yeah, that's why I like you. Want to go a round? Just wait. I'm going to play with our Platoon Leader first, then I'll be right with you."
One look at Rem's face said it all. He was grinning from ear to ear. It was a smile of pure happiness—at least, that was how it appeared to the adjutant.
The adjutant waited for Encrid to chew out his platoon, but nothing happened.
“Go find out why they called him. Why they need that lucky fellow.”
The adjutant volunteering to guide a mere Platoon Leader was, of course, on the Battalion Commander's orders. He had to report whatever this man did, and he was waiting for Encrid to take action.
But that was it.
The Clear-Eyed Madman unraveled the bandage. A black panther appeared out of nowhere, blinking its blue eyes and yawning.
Meow.
Encrid stared blankly at the beast. Then, the other platoon members turned their gazes toward the adjutant.
"Aren't you leaving?" Encrid asked.
It certainly didn't sound like an invitation to stay and chat.
"Ah, yes, I'm leaving. Get some rest."
The adjutant turned around. After he left, Rem tilted his head and asked, "Why did that guy follow you? He's been rolling his eyes around for days."
"Rolling his eyes?"
"He kept staring. I thought he was begging to be killed, so I was planning to decorate his head with an axe by tomorrow."
"You crazy bastard, that's not assaulting a superior, that's murder."
"Is that so?" Rem grinned. He surely didn't ask because he didn't know. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Leave him be. Don't go causing trouble with superiors. Especially since that guy reports directly to the Battalion Commander."
"If things go south, I can just discharge myself."
Of course, that wouldn't be a normal discharge. Rem's "discharge" would likely involve escaping the army with two axes in hand.
While Encrid and Rem bickered, Sachsen took out his ointment, knelt on one knee, and slathered it onto Encrid's wrist. A sharp, cold sensation spread across his skin—refreshing and slightly ticklish. It didn't seem like ordinary medicine.
Was it because they hadn't seen each other in a while? Why was he being so proactive about treating the injury? Regardless, Encrid said what needed to be said.
"Let's try to play along with what the higher-ups want, at least a little."
He had already heard the reason why he had been summoned so urgently. The situation on the battlefield was going to absolute shit, morale was plummeting, and there was unrest within the unit. The nickname "Madman Platoon" was proof of that unrest.
Cutting off their heads to enforce military discipline would be a waste of their skills, but tolerating them seemed like it would only lead to endless trouble.
The Company Commander must have protected them too.
The Elf Company Commander—though Encrid didn't know his true motives—had a habit of looking out for him and his men behind the scenes. Bringing his platoon members here was likely for a similar reason. Refusing to deploy just because their leader was absent, right after being reorganized into an independent platoon directly under the Company Commander? Encrid knew exactly how massive of a problem that would look like.
That was why they had been brought here. Krais had explained it to him the entire way. However, there was one problem they had overlooked.
It's not like they listen to me either.
Even when breaking up their fights, words never worked; he had to physically throw himself between them. They weren't the type of people to go out and fight just because they were told to.
It was the same now. Not a single one of them was listening to what Encrid was saying. They let it go in one ear and out the other. They had absolutely no intention of playing along with the higher-ups.
Well, what can I do?
This was the Troublemaker Squad, the Madman Platoon.
Sachsen, who had finished re-bandaging the wrist, said with downcast eyes, "You shouldn't overexert yourself, but then again, suffering the consequences later will be your own responsibility."
Even if he tried to stop him, Encrid wouldn't listen. Sachsen took a step back.
"Yeah. The suffering is my responsibility."
As they finished talking, Krais, who had been standing behind them all this time, finally spoke up. "Am I invisible to you guys?"
"Oh? You were here?"
"I saw you."
"Welcome, Brother."
The three of them, excluding Sachsen, spoke in turn. Sachsen merely gave a slight nod. After all, he was involved with Krais in various ways—mostly exchanging information, getting introductions to prostitutes, and dealing medicine. Krais knew better than to expect anything more, so he was satisfied with that.
After that, it was time for the spar.
As they swarmed out in front of the barracks, Enri finally acknowledged them. "It's terrifying to even speak to them. In a way, I almost respect Andrew for stepping forward so boldly."
Enri's face was completely clean. He was good at managing his position, but in another way, it meant he only amounted to this much. He had no friction with anyone in the platoon, but that also meant he couldn't get close to any of them.
Encrid didn't judge people lightly, but he knew the judgment of his men. The fact that none of them kept Enri close meant they didn't expect him to pull his weight.
Even so, Encrid didn't tell him to go home or get discharged. Who was he to say that? When everyone had told him to quit and give up, he was the one still holding a sword to this day.
He had never backed down. Even if he had to crawl, he moved forward. That was the Encrid of today—the result of crawling forward half a step at a time. Even though his wrist was ruined from fighting Frok, he could still show them.
Something had changed. Something he had built up all this time. He felt he could do it now, too—just enough to not overstrain his wrist.
"I'm first," Rem said, stepping forward and swinging his axe with a grin. There was no warning, no declaration.
Encrid swung his sword in response.
Rem's arm snapped like a whip, and the axe blade followed suit—stretching and curving in a blur. In response, Encrid's sword traced a similar arc. Swung at high speed and leaving afterimages, the axe and the sword met.
Clang!
A single clash. A single exchange.
With just that, the corner of Rem's mouth twitched upward. "Well, look at this," Rem muttered, his smile deepening.
The sound of metal clashing in the dead of night caused a stir in the surrounding area.
"What's that?"
"Is it the Madman Platoon again?"
"What is it today?"
But once they realized it was indeed the Madman Platoon, a crowd of soldiers naturally gathered to watch. It wasn't their usual infighting; a new face had appeared, making it a spectacle worth watching.
Some recognized that face. There was Vengeance, and Bell, who had fought alongside him in the previous battle. There was also the Sewing Squad Leader, members of the Border Guard, and even those who had faced Encrid in the promotion match.
Clang, clang, clang!
Metal met metal, sparks flew, and the noise erupted. Everyone watched the spar between Rem and Encrid, and they were all left speechless.
"Wh-what... what is this?" someone murmured, speaking for the entire crowd.
Encrid. That Encrid.
Even with his recent promotion to Senior Soldier, his skills had always been considered vastly inferior to theirs. He was the man who had been the butt of their jokes, the "idiot squad leader."
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!
He swung, parried, and thrust his sword so fast it was barely visible, matching Rem's axe blow for blow. He was evenly matched with Rem, who had recently made a name for himself as a monster, slaying ten enemies at once.
At least, that was how it looked to them. And that wasn't the end of it.
"Let's save the rest of the talk for later. There are too many people waiting," Rem said, stopping mid-spar.
After him came Ragna. And after him, Audin.
They took turns fighting Encrid, and Encrid did not yield to any of them.