Chapter 120: I'm Sure They're Doing Fine
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 120: I'm Sure They're Doing Fine
I think we can move on to the next step.
"Whew-whew-whew."
Rem whistled a jaunty tune as he walked.
If I really push him with everything I’ve got...
He was highly pleased with how the Platoon Leader had returned. He was practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of going back and tormenting Encrid.
Could he even advance to the next stage of the Beast's Heart?
It was strange, even to him. He was actually excited about passing on a secret technique he wouldn't have taught some continental bastard even if they offered him a mountain of gold.
Strange. Truly strange.
Encrid was a peculiar fellow. He didn't really do anything special, yet it was impossible to hate him. Simply impossible.
He just made people want to look after him.
Was it because of how stubbornly he swung his sword every single day? Or was it his personality—silently taking on every chore without a single word of complaint?
If asked for a specific reason, it was hard to say, though those traits certainly played a part.
I just like the guy.
In life, there were always people like that. People you just liked for no particular reason.
Though I never expected to feel this way about a continental bastard.
Rem stopped walking and called out to Audin, who was blocking his path.
"Hey, big guy. You pray all the time, but can't you use divine power or something? Can't you do something about the Platoon Leader's wrist?"
"Should I rip your mouth open, brother?"
"Huh? You want me to bring you down to eye level with my axe?"
Encrid wasn't there to stop them. Audin turned his head and locked eyes with Rem.
A chilly tension filled the air between them, but Ragna suddenly shuffled right through the middle, dragging his feet.
"...Brother, is it really necessary to cut through here just because you're lazy?"
"Crazy bastard," Rem muttered.
Ragna shuffling between them deflated the tension instantly. This wasn't the first time they had bickered; everyone else usually just watched and let them be.
Sachsen walked alone, keeping his distance to one side. If anyone took their eyes off Ragna for even a second, he would drift diagonally instead of walking straight. It was impossible to understand what kind of sense of direction he had.
Actually, his sense of direction wasn't the issue. It was more that he was too lazy to care and just walked however he pleased.
Though they were all eccentric, each of them—including Rem—was thinking about Encrid, their Platoon Leader, in their own way.
I should have him train to keep his sword closer to his body.
Ragna was no different. Even though he had lost all motivation now that the Platoon Leader was out of sight, he was steadily compiling a list of things to do in his head for when they met again.
Audin was the same.
Now that the muscle remodeling is complete...
Was it time to work on the joints?
Muscles, joints, and then changing the posture would alter the body shape, strengthening the weak areas.
Bend and bend again, shave and shave again...
There was also a secret method to forge a body that wouldn't collapse under joint locks or heavy strikes. However, if he went that far, the Platoon Leader brother's body might not survive.
I will take it one step at a time, Lord.
Audin concluded his thoughts with a prayer.
And what about Sachsen?
I'd like to fix his stride.
Even if it wasn't a silent step like an assassin's, a noisy stride inevitably involved unnecessary movements.
Maximum efficiency with minimal movement.
Sachsen recalled his own training, searching for something useful among his techniques. It wasn't swordsmanship, but...
It will be of help.
Sachsen had an exceptionally sharp eye. He knew that what he taught would become flesh and blood for Encrid. It was just that a question occasionally arose at the end of these thoughts.
Why bother?
There was no absolute need to teach him anything unless he asked first. Until then, he would leave him be. That was Sachsen's decision.
Of course, regardless of his resolve, if the barbarian, the religious fanatic, or the lazy bum got fired up about teaching, he might get swept up in the trend too. Still, he intended to restrain himself as much as possible. Just being lumped together with them was unpleasant.
To an outside observer, they were all cut from the same cloth.
One was whistling gratingly and picking fights. Another was wandering aimlessly with a blank stare. The massive soldier was constantly muttering to himself, calling upon his Lord. And the last one walked at a distance, deeply engrossed in his own thoughts, as if trying to deny he was even part of the group.
Was this a normal unit?
Of course not. They had been eccentric even back when they were the Troublemaker Squad, but once they were reorganized into the Independent Platoon, it became glaringly obvious.
It was hard to call them disciplined soldiers. Even their marching was chaotic. Although they had been placed under the 4th Company Commander, they didn't march with the main column but trailed along separately to the side. It was almost laughable to call a group of fewer than ten people an "Independent Platoon."
Yet, not a single soldier dared to pick a fight with them.
Leave them alone.
If you mess with them, we're the ones who'll suffer.
Mess with them only if you want to get fucked.
They knew from experience. Those guys weren't just troublemakers; they were lunatics. And their skills were just as insane.
*
The distance from the rear camp to the forward base was a half-day's walk—at least, that was the case when a whole unit moved. If traveling individually, one could get there much faster.
Since they had set out at dawn and would have to deploy straight into battle upon arrival, they were pacing themselves. Still, it wasn't a distance that required a rest stop. If they kept a steady pace, they could arrive before lunch.
In other words, unless there was a problem, there was no reason for the march to halt.
"Halt."
The soldier at the front spoke, spotting a signal from ahead. The march ground to a halt because the Elf Company Commander at the front of the column had raised her fist.
"What is it?" Rayon, the 3rd Company Commander, asked from beside her. The 3rd and 4th Companies were merging again after falling back to the rear.
"Over there. Something's strange," the elf said.
Rayon frowned. He couldn't see anything. The Elf Company Commander pointed toward the riverbank—the Pen-Hanil River, the lifeblood of Naurilia and the source of drinking water for all neighboring kingdoms.
"They're hiding."
There were several boulders near the riverbank large enough for a person to hide behind, where ghouls occasionally popped out. A little further ahead, the Tehom Forest would appear on the right, which also harbored its share of monsters.
But this was a battlefield now; most monsters and demonic beasts had long since been cleared out. Besides, monsters rarely attacked an entire army.
So, if someone was waiting there...
The enemy.
The Elf Company Commander's intuition was spot on.
"Damn it, there's an elf bitch."
Someone poked his head out from behind a boulder. He was a man with short hair and a thick jaw, wearing a helmet that covered his forehead but left his ears exposed—the uniform of an Azpen soldier.
The distance was well within bowshot, but the man only showed half his body from behind the rock. The Elf Company Commander cast her gaze behind him. Her sharp eyes spotted a high-speed boat—Azpen's pride—floating near the riverbank.
It was a long boat with a maximum capacity of about eight people. It featured fixed oars concealed beneath the water; once rowed, it could slice through the water at terrifying speeds. It seemed they had prepared it to make a quick escape if things went south. If they took to the river, the allies had no way to pursue them.
Since that boat is incredibly fast...
It was too sloppy to be called an ambush. Their numbers also seemed to be only around ten.
A provocation.
Rayon followed the Elf Company Commander's train of thought to the same conclusion. "They're trying everything."
"Lowering morale is the basics of military strategy, after all."
While the two were talking, one of the enemy soldiers stepped out from behind the boulder.
"I am Lowell, a soldier of the Azpen Principality! Is there no one here to fight me? Let us duel fair and square!"
This was a tactic they had fallen for multiple times already. A challenge to a duel rather than a clash of armies. A mere soldier, not even a knight, picking a fight.
"Would a commander step forward to face a mere soldier? Don't you think that's cowardly? Or is it that none of you actually know how to fight?"
The man named Lowell sneered, adding to his taunts.
Should I just put an arrow through his skull? the Elf Company Commander thought, but she didn't act rashly.
The first time, they had sent out a soldier and lost. The next time, they had sent a platoon leader, and still lost. The enemy soldiers' individual skill was vastly superior. But if a company commander stepped up to fight, they would lose face. It was a strategy that exploited a very awkward gap.
Did they say Azpen had some genius strategist?
This strategy didn't noticeably reduce their numbers, but it caused morale to plummet.
The enemy soldiers fight so well, so why is there no one like that on our side?
If I step forward...
If a company commander stepped forward, the enemy would mock them. In truth, they hadn't lost every single duel. Palto, the 2nd Company Commander, had reportedly gotten so furious that he crushed the head of one such challenger with his mace. Yet, even after killing him, morale still dropped.
"Interfering in a fight between soldiers! Have you no shame?!" the enemy had cried.
The allies, who hadn't cared at first, were now losing ground on the battlefield day after day. After repeatedly losing these duels, their morale was hitting rock bottom. The difference in individual skill and training was so vast, yet their numbers were similar. It made them feel as though the battle was already decided before it even began.
That was undoubtedly why the enemy kept repeating this stunt. They wanted to kill them, but the bastards were thoroughly prepared to flee.
What if they ignored the duel and pushed forward with their entire force? If they had done that from the start, it might have been fine. But doing it now would only damage morale further.
Then should they just watch? That would truly be opening the gates of purgatory with their own hands.
"What's this? Those guys came all the way out here?"
While they were debating what to do, a soldier approached from behind with a swagger. He didn't maintain formation or align himself. He was so free-spirited that one had to wonder if he was even part of the marching unit.
It was Rem of the Independent Platoon.
"Do you want to kill that guy?" the Elf Company Commander asked, just in case.
Hadn't the soldier named Big-Eyes given her some advice before they left?
"He'll be relatively obedient today. So use him as much as you can. The atmosphere is grim anyway."
If it didn't work, so be it; if it did, great. That was her mindset.
"Sure, why not."
Rem nodded heartily. He seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood.
"Hey, what did you say your name was?"
"What? Did you come out to fight?"
Rem sauntered out alone. Ragna mindlessly started to follow him, but Audin grabbed him by the forearm.
"Huh?"
"Brother, that is the enemy."
"Ah, I see."
Before anyone knew it, Sachsen had sat down on a smooth stone nearby, becoming a mere spectator. None of them showed even a shred of tension. The same went for the Elf Company Commander.
A faint glimmer of anticipation began to spark in the eyes of the allied soldiers. Who was Rem? A lunatic. When he was on your side, he was a real son of a bitch, but to the enemy, he was the absolute worst nightmare on earth.
The anticipation flared up like heat.
The thick-jawed soldier poking his head out from behind the boulder smirked and stepped forward. "I guess you had no one else to send but a barbarian. You're not planning to lure me in and shoot me with arrows, are you?"
Dumbass, Sachsen thought as he watched the opponent.
It wasn't a distance where one could swing an axe and reach, but for that crazy barbarian, it was more than close enough.
Whoosh!
The moment the opponent poked his head out, Rem threw his axe. His hand movement was like the wind. To the ordinary soldiers, Rem's hand moved so fast they couldn't even see it properly. It looked as if he had suddenly flicked his arm, leaving only an afterimage.
The afterimage made it look as though wings had sprouted near Rem's right hand.
Flutter—whoosh!
The sound of sleeves snapping in the wind was followed by the whistle of something slicing the air. The spinning axe flew and embedded itself right in the forehead of the enemy soldier named Lowell.
Thwack!
With a crisp sound, the man's feet left the ground. He flew backward, soaring for a brief moment before crashing back-first onto the ground.
Thud—clatter.
The gravel displaced by his back scattered to the sides.
"Gurgle..."
The man died with his skull split open. The axe was lodged right between his eyebrows, his eyes still wide open. It was a death he hadn't envisioned even in his wildest dreams.
Meanwhile, Rem was already running, another axe in his left hand.
Tap, tap.
He kicked off the ground, closing the distance in an instant, and slipped behind the boulder.
Thud!
Along with a dull sound, blood sprayed out from the opposite side of the boulder Rem had entered.
Crack!
Rem immediately darted behind the next boulder. This time, with a heavy thud, an enemy soldier's severed head rolled onto the ground.
And next...
"Aaargh!"
One of the enemy soldiers burst out from hiding and ran toward the river, but Rem relentlessly chased him down, grabbed him by the head, and slammed his face into the ground.
Slam!
"Gggh..."
Whether it was a groan or a scream, it was hard to tell. Rem slammed the soldier's face into the ground several more times. The way he slammed it with the exact same rhythm and force made him look like an artisan repeatedly crafting something.
Of course, what Rem was crafting wasn't boots or farming tools, but death.
Slam, slam, slam.
After slamming it three or four more times and confirming the man was dead, he stood up.
With four of them dead, the remaining enemy soldiers fled without looking back. They ran toward the boat they had prepared, scrambled aboard, and began rowing with all their might.
Rem didn't pursue them. The allies didn't waste their arrows either.
"Dumbasses."
Instead, he thrust his thumb between his index and middle fingers, displaying a universal obscene gesture. Even after seeing that, the enemy soldiers were too busy fleeing in a panic to care.
"Shall we go?"
Rem retrieved his axe from the split skull, walked back, and asked. The Elf Company Commander smirked, but... in the end, the allies' morale didn't go up.
Overwhelming skill? That was great, but...
Ugh.
I don't want to die like that.
Why did he have to do that to his face?
It was because of his brutal method of killing and his notorious reputation. The soldiers had often heard Rem throw around threats like, "I'll grind your face off." Seeing him actually put it into practice sent shivers down everyone's spines.
In the end, Rem stepping forward had the bizarre effect of lowering the morale of both allies and enemies simultaneously.
"Let's move out again."
After roughly clearing away the corpses, the Company Commander ordered the march to resume.
*
They must be doing well, right?
In the rear, Encrid was busy recovering. He had no fatal injuries, but there were many wounds that could easily fester if left untreated. He couldn't rejoin them immediately. Since infantry reinforcements were scheduled to arrive later, he planned to join them and head out then. He would probably be able to set off in two to four days.
I'm sure they'll manage on their own.
He worried about his platoon members for a brief moment before brushing it aside. Encrid just needed to worry about himself. Were those platoon members of his the type to die easily out there?
If anything, they would be the ones doing the killing. If they stepped up to fight, the allies' rock-bottom morale would surely rise a bit.
As long as they actually fight.
The platoon members did indeed step up to fight. However, the situation turned out quite differently from what Encrid had expected.
Because the morale of both friend and foe was plummeting at the exact same time.