Chapter 122: Hey, You Runts Whose Balls Haven't Even Dropped Yet
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 122: Hey, You Runts Whose Balls Haven't Even Dropped Yet
"It seems something has changed again over the last few days, Brother."
This was Audin—a master of devilish tongue-wagging hidden behind a simple, guileless smile.
He would constantly tell Encrid to stop training and take a break, but the moment Encrid actually did, Audin would corner him like a rat. In truth, even a real rat wouldn't be hunted down as mercilessly as Audin pursued him during their sessions.
Of course, Encrid was more than satisfied with this.
Where did the greed in his heart stretch its branches? It lay in learning, in the steady steps toward moving forward. Thus, he welcomed this kind of grueling instruction anytime.
Beside the hulking Audin, who had emerged through the thick morning mist, Encrid stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, slowly squatting and rising to put weight on his thigh muscles.
Suddenly, Audin lunged a hand toward him.
Encrid blocked it reflexively. Clack, clack. It was wrestling—close-quarters physical combat, a technique also known as martial arts in the Valaf-style.
The hand Encrid deflected twisted in a continuous, fluid motion, aiming for his vitals. As Encrid grabbed, pushed, and twisted Audin’s hand to prevent him from seizing his shoulder, blocking with his own frame, a foot came flying in.
When he deflected the kick, a massive palm suddenly blocked his vision, shoving him back with the crushing weight of Audin’s entire body.
Pressed tightly against him, Audin spoke.
"You've improved a lot."
It was something Encrid had heard back at the rear camp as well. Thanks to Finn, who had helped him internalize Eilkaraz-style martial arts, his actual technique had sharpened significantly, but he still couldn't match Audin.
To begin with, their height, skeletal structure, and muscle density were on completely different levels. Audin possessed far superior physical strength, and despite his massive build, his reflexes were exceptionally sharp.
In an instant, Audin’s hand slipped in from an unseen angle and snatched the back of Encrid’s neck. As Audin dragged him down with sheer force, there was no way to resist. In close-quarters combat, once you entered the range of wrestling, your very size became a weapon.
If there is a disparity in physical size, do not grapple.
It was a rule Audin had repeated countless times while teaching him. Encrid had once asked how to overcome that physical disparity.
"Your technique must be on a different level. So, what must you do?"
What else? Roll around and train to death. That was the only answer he had received while being twisted and beaten repeatedly on the training mat.
Having pinned Encrid down before he knew it, Audin hummed something akin to a hymn in his deep, resonant voice.
"Thus spoke the Lord: snap their joints, snap them clean..."
I really don't think God would say something like that.
It was obviously a joke. Audin kept his weight on Encrid’s neck and one shoulder but didn't apply any more pressure. Of course, even just staying like this was painful enough.
I caught the movement with my senses, though.
His reaction had been slow. There were several reasons for that, his injuries being the most prominent. Pain always had a way of dulling one’s reflexes.
"If a battle breaks out, you will fight again, won't you, Brother Platoon Leader?"
As if you even need to ask.
It went without saying. Though his right wrist was a bit bothersome, it wasn't completely useless. Moreover, the very reason he had been summoned here was because of them. If a battle occurred, he would naturally step onto the battlefield and fight once more.
"With a body like that, it is impossible, Brother," Audin spoke while keeping him pinned.
His right shoulder was slashed, and his left forearm was pierced. His right wrist was still bound in a splint, and bruises covered his entire body. Having long since run out of Sachsen’s ointment, all he had on his wounds were some mashed-up herbs. Because he got hurt so often, there was no way any ointment could have lasted. It hadn't been a large amount to begin with, anyway.
"How long do you plan on keeping me like this?" Encrid wondered what he was doing.
Usually, after pinning him, they would go through a combat review. It was time to let go and begin that process. Yet, the grip of Audin’s tough hands remained firm.
"Brother Platoon Leader."
Audin called out to him. Encrid, forced to remain half-bent over, replied, "What?"
The morning mist was so thick that the surroundings were a blur. It was the kind of fog where you could only recognize a face if you stepped within a few paces of them. There was a night watchman nearby, but after casting a few glances at first, he now paid them no mind.
Having assessed the situation, Audin made up his mind and acted.
Ssssshh.
Encrid heard a sound he had never heard before in his life. It was a sound that felt as though it were vibrating directly through his body rather than entering his ears.
Soon, a warmth began to seep into his body—a warmth rarely felt on a misty riverbank at dawn, and even less so at this hour before the morning sun had risen. It felt like afternoon sunlight, the kind of warmth that made you want to sit idly and read a book. Or perhaps something perfect for taking a nap.
How should he describe this? Serenity?
At any rate, something was seeping throughout his entire body. Along with serenity, warmth, and comfort, a faint tingling sensation bloomed from his injured areas, passing in a brief moment.
It didn't last very long. Only then did Audin’s rough hand release Encrid’s neck.
Encrid raised his head and looked at Audin. The religious fanatic squad member—that was what Encrid had once called him. He looked as devout as any priest. And priests who believed in God occasionally performed wonders or miracles.
People called those miracles divine power.
"This..."
"No. You will say nothing, Brother. And you will tell no one. You must swear to the Lord to do so."
Encrid looked into Audin’s eyes. A light lingered within those hazy, pale yellow irises. A light, something like radiance, seemed to dwell there. At least, that was how it appeared to Encrid’s eyes.
"Please, swear it."
"I swear."
Audin turned away without another word.
"For even the riverbank mist is the Lord’s blessing."
Stepping aside, Audin knelt and began his morning prayer.
Well, then. Encrid scratched his head a few times.
What on earth made him trust me so much?
Sometimes, he wondered why his platoon members went to such lengths for him. Did he just look that pitiful? Did watching him struggle desperately make them feel sentimental? He didn't know. The curiosity quickly faded.
What did it matter anyway?
Audin Pumrei—no one knew he could wield divine power. The act of using divine power itself might be bound by some religious commandments. Though it was just a feeling, one thing was certain: Audin had taken a risk.
"Lord, forgive me."
Seeing how his prayer began, it seemed Encrid’s hunch was correct.
He didn't need to go this far.
Still, he couldn't return what had already been given. Encrid unwrapped the bandage on his wrist. He flexed it a few times. Judging by the experience he had gained from rolling around and getting hurt countless times...
In a day or two...
...his wrist would be perfectly fine to use. The other wounds hidden beneath his bandages also seemed to have improved significantly. The dull, aching pain had mostly vanished.
"Thank you."
He spoke to the hulking platoon member, but Audin, deeply absorbed in his prayer, did not answer.
Lord.
Amidst the scent of damp earth wafting from all around, the smell of death, so common on a tense battlefield, drifted in. For Audin, it had been difficult to just stand by and watch his platoon leader.
Lord, because You are always there.
He questioned his silent master. Was what he had just done truly right? If it were discovered that he had used divine power, the Inquisitors would come. He had left the Holy Order carrying many restrictions. Though not quite a formal oath, he had placed a restriction on his own body at the level of a vow back then.
Because he had forced out a portion of his divine power while enduring the restriction, a pain like an awl piercing his skull flared up.
Even so.
I simply could not stand by and watch, Lord.
A man who burned his own body in the flames of effort was finally receiving his reward. He could not let that flame be extinguished here. One could call it a whim, but Audin simply wanted to do it, and so he did.
Since meeting Encrid, he believed that the words of the Lord resided within him.
Therefore, I shall act as my heart guides me.
Audin finished his prayer. Before long, the morning sun began to shine, dispersing the mist. Even though he had used divine power to restore Encrid’s body, it hadn't healed all the wounds at once. Doing so would allow someone sensitive to detect the manifested divine power, and the restriction made it difficult to use any more than this anyway.
Still, looking at the platoon leader, he seemed much better than before.
"Phew."
As Encrid exhaled and moved, his body appeared noticeably lighter. God and man, blessing and curse—the core question remained unresolved, but at least watching a platoon leader like him brought peace to his mind.
Though his brow furrowed as he endured the lingering pain of the restriction, Audin knew he would not regret today’s actions. It was a premonition, an instinct, and a certainty.
* * *
He had just finished his morning training and was about to rewrap his bandages.
"Big-Eyes."
He was calling out to Krais when the entrance of the barracks tent fluttered open.
"Is this the place?"
A petite figure with green eyes entered. A superior officer whose skills belied her small frame. In other words, she was one of the people responsible for creating the current "mad platoon." After all, she was the elf who had formed them into an Independent Platoon and dragged them to the battlefield without Encrid.
"I heard you were injured?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The moment she entered, she looked straight at Encrid and tossed something. Encrid caught the object flying through the air. It was a round wooden container, about the same size as the ointment he had received from Sachsen. It had a leaf-shaped engraving on the lid, looking as though it had been crafted by someone with considerable skill.
"Company Commander?"
"Apply it. An elf’s medicine cannot be bought even for a thousand gold. Consider it an engagement gift."
Encrid still couldn't get used to the elf’s jokes. Above all, because this was so unexpected, he couldn't help but wear a blank expression. Barging in out of nowhere, throwing something at him, and calling it an engagement gift.
"I like that look on your face. Quite nice."
Leaving only those words, the Company Commander turned and walked out. Had she really come all this way just to give him some ointment?
"I'm seriously curious now, Platoon Leader. What's your secret?" Krais, who had been watching from the side, asked.
Encrid, equally dumbfounded, spoke up. "I was just wondering the same thing."
Seriously, why did she suddenly drop by just to throw some ointment at him? Just as the Company Commander said, elves possessed an extraordinary talent for handling such medicines. Judging by how she had identified the poison during the medical tent assassination incident, the Company Commander also seemed to have a deep knowledge of pharmacology.
"It looks better than mine. I guess your demonic charm is useful at times like this," Sachsen spoke from behind. He was leisurely wiping and maintaining his gear without even turning his head. He looked like he wasn't paying attention, but he was a man who kept track of everything around him. That was why he understood the battlefield situation most thoroughly and picked up on the atmosphere so sensitively.
"I don't think that's the reason," Encrid shook his head. The very fact that she made such jokes was proof that it wasn't for that kind of reason.
Beside him, Rem began to cackle. "Make sure you only have three kids."
Crazy bastard.
"Platoon Leader, instead of staying here, why don't you leave the army and open a salon with me?" Big-Eyes took it a step further. He babbled on about how such a talent wasn't easily acquired and spouted nonsense about how it would be better to cultivate his innate talent of "demonic charm" rather than his late-blooming swordsmanship.
No matter how desperate he might be, Encrid had no desire to live off of swindling noblewomen, so he spoke up to tell him to shut his mouth.
"Stop talking nonsense and help me get these bandages off."
Ragna, who had been silently observing the situation until then, spoke up. "So, can we spar now?"
For some reason, Ragna seemed even more eager than Encrid lately.
"You crazy, lazy bastard, do you think a single application of ointment is going to instantly heal his wounds?" Rem scolded him, but Ragna didn't argue back, only showing a disappointed look.
True, it didn't seem like a single ointment would heal him completely. But the ointment wasn't the real point; he had already personally received a wonder that even high-ranking nobles would rarely lay eyes on earlier this morning.
As Krais unwrapped the bandages, Encrid subtly twisted his shoulder to hide his wounds and applied the ointment himself.
"Let me apply it for you," Krais offered, but Encrid shook his head.
"It's fine."
"Tch, is it because it's a gift from your lover?"
Thud.
Sitting on the cot, Encrid extended a foot and kicked Krais’s thigh before carefully spreading the ointment over his shoulder. As he repeated the process on his left forearm, a cool, refreshing sensation spread from the wounded areas.
This must be some high-quality medicine.
The cooling sensation was even stronger than the ointment Sachsen had given him. Encrid wrapped his bandages once more. Once that was done, he felt like he could move around reasonably well.
I feel alright. Should I swing my sword a few times?
It didn't seem like a battle would break out immediately. Both sides were currently locked in a standoff, merely glaring at each other. Of course, if things went south, a fight could erupt at any second.
"Seriously, those boring bastards. If they decided to fight, they should just fight until their heads crack open." Since there hadn't been any large-scale battles, Rem had become quite frustrated.
Should I swing my sword? He was debating whether he should still rest.
Bwooooh.
A horn trumpet blared from outside. Whistles were used to prepare for a surprise attack, but on the battlefield, blowing a horn trumpet was the tradition of Naurilia.
"The enemy is coming! All troops, assemble! Assemble! Gather by unit!" The voice of a messenger running around outside the tent echoed.
"They're here again, those crazy bastards," Rem pouted and grumbled at the news. "You know what? Those guys must have way too much time on their hands, Platoon Leader of Demonic Charm."
"How about you drop that last nickname?"
Encrid wondered what on earth was going on. As he roughly threw on his gear and prepared to head out...
"Even if a fight breaks out, don't you dare step forward to fight. Take care of your body first, will you?" Rem chimed in.
"I believe it is only right for you to focus solely on recovery until you are fit to spar," Ragna agreed.
Audin merely smiled. It was truly a wonder to see someone of his massive build smile with such benevolence.
"Were you actually planning to fight? Unless you've lost your mind, what could you possibly do with a body like that?" Sachsen spoke in a tone that was practically scolding.
Good grief, are they treating me like a toddler playing near a river?
Of course, his platoon members didn't actually view him that way. However, their message was clear: We won't stand by and watch you get hurt again. Don't even think about getting injured in front of us.
Whether it was Audin, who had used his divine power, or the rest of them, they were all the same. These were his platoon members. Looking at it this way, the Battalion Commander’s decision to summon him here could be called brilliant. After all, they were moving under his command, one way or another.
Though I'm not sure if this can actually be called 'control.'
Encrid still lacked the confidence to handle his platoon members exactly as he wished. Nor did he have any desire to.
"It's time to assemble, Platoon Leader!" It was the voice of Andrew, who had been out on guard duty. Since he had gone out with Mac and Enri, the three of them would be together.
Had he assigned the three of them to guard duty together on purpose? It was a consideration made by the soldier in charge of scheduling duties because Rem had been tormenting them so much. Just how badly did Rem harass them for such a favor to be granted automatically?
"Let's go," Encrid said as he stood up.
Though it had been slashed near the shoulder, his leather armor was still sturdy. On top of that, he wore his gambeson, with swords strapped to both sides of his waist.
Hmm, I feel somewhat reassured.
It was time to go see the battlefield. He was curious to see what the enemy was up to. Were they persistently demanding duels again? He had heard that their soldiers kept coming forward, challenging them to one-on-one fights.
"I'm sick of those kinds of fights. I wanted to swing my axe fiercely for my platoon leader, but there's just no real battle, no battle at all," Rem grumbled endlessly, despite having avoided the duels last night out of sheer laziness.
Thus, they stepped onto the battlefield.
"Hey, you runts whose balls haven't even dropped yet!"
The enemy’s voice echoed across the field.