Chapter 129: Heart of Monstrous Strength
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 129: Heart of Monstrous Strength
Bell stood among the soldiers on the absolute front line.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His luck had finally run dry. It would have been better to die in the very first strike. Of all the things to face, it had to be a giant.
He couldn't even turn back and run. Shouldn't the 1st Company be the ones dealing with something like that? Or maybe the border guards?
The Turtle Heavy Infantry was positioned on the left flank, and the border guards were nowhere to be seen, as if they had all gone out drinking together.
Bell felt sweat trickling down his back. His hands were numb with tension; his legs felt like they were about to give out. Even though the giant was just standing there laughing, doing nothing, the damage was already done.
In truth, the monster had shown everything he needed to with that first hammer swing. That single strike—the carnage wrought by overwhelming, monstrous strength—was enough. Anyone who could look at that and remain unfazed had to have a screw loose.
Fuck.
Bell could taste his impending death. The moment that hammer moved, it would be his turn to die. Since the front line had been obliterated, he had somehow ended up right at the edge of the abyss.
"What a fucking mess," the squad leader beside him muttered.
His face was just as pale. Looking at his trembling pupils, it was a miracle he hadn't screamed for everyone to run. Though, even if they wanted to, they couldn't. The vanguard commanders holding the line behind them acted as battle overseers; they would cut down anyone who retreated.
Seeing his squad leader so terrified actually put Bell's mind at ease.
To hell with it. I’ll just die.
From the moment he stepped onto the battlefield, his life had been mortgaged to the heavens. He decided to think of it as the debt collector finally coming to call.
"We're going to die anyway," Bell said.
The squad leader looked at him. Bell stared straight back, wearing a smile of utter resignation.
"But I'd like to take at least one of his toes with me."
They said a giant's hide was so tough that ordinary sword strikes couldn't cut through it. But was that really true? What if he got in close and sawed away at it? Even if it were a dragon's bone, wouldn't it eventually give way if he just kept sawing?
Who knew? Might as well try.
"The flower of the battlefield..." Bell spoke.
His voice wasn't sorrowful. It was filled with resolve. Since he had staked his life anyway, he might as well spend it with a bang. Only an idiot wouldn't even try to dodge when lightning was striking.
Bell had learned that from watching a man named Encrid. A man who truly did not know the meaning of surrender. How could anyone stand beside such a man and learn nothing?
Bell had learned, and now he was going to put it into practice.
At Bell's words, the squad leader replied reflexively.
"...is the infantry."
Yes. Now, it was time to fight. Which meant it was time to die—or perhaps, the path to his death.
Right on cue, the giant bastard lifted his hammer, which had been resting on the ground.
Screeech.
The massive chunk of iron scraped against the gravel as it rose. As the fog slowly began to lift, the hammerhead came into view, smeared with blood and bits of flesh like mashed bread. It was clear—so terrifyingly clear. That was death. That was the debt collector.
"Khehehe."
Letting out that cavernous, guttural laugh again, the giant raised his hammer. While he had swung it vertically before, this time he raised it high and tilted it sideways. He wanted to reap them all at once.
Bell's mind raced, trying to figure out if he could dodge it. What if he ducked low? Would a hammer swung by someone that big reach all the way to the ground? Probably not.
The giant bent his knees. The hammerhead was simply too massive. If he swung it at that angle, it would be impossible to dodge unless one jumped—or somehow got completely out of the hammer's reach.
"This is too much. You bastards..." one of the allied soldiers whimpered, looking back. "What about the retreat signal? The whistle blew, right? We just didn't hear it, right?"
He was a recruit. Still green behind the ears.
"Dammit, fuck, shit, bastards."
Another soldier did nothing but curse repeatedly.
The giant knew how to fight. If he had rushed them immediately, he wouldn't have created this kind of atmosphere. The brief lull had allowed terror to take root in the soldiers' hearts. The giant had killed their spirits first.
"Hmph!"
Even the giant's grunt sounded like a beast's. Along with it, he unleashed his prepared strike.
Whoosh!
Once again, a monstrous strength that defied human limits tore through the air, channeled through the massive hammerhead.
Swoosh!
Having no other choice, Bell planned to press his body tight against his shield, take the impact, and run. If he did that, maybe, just maybe, he would survive. He would probably die anyway, but he still wanted to try and hold out.
It was the moment death cast its shadow over every soldier's eyes. Bell couldn't even properly see the hammer moving.
Instead, whoosh, a shadow stepped forward.
Huh?
Before he could even register what it was—
CLAAAAANG!
A deafening explosion struck his ears. The strike was so absurdly powerful that Bell felt himself being pushed back by the sheer shockwave.
Only then did Bell see.
"...What the fuck?"
A curse slipped from his lips in sheer disbelief. It was a non-stop sequence of events where one couldn't help but swear.
"Hey, you oversized dumbass. You should pick on someone your own size."
The shadow blocking the way spoke. It was the back of an ally.
Standing before the giant, he looked incredibly small, yet he held an axe in each hand, blocking the hammer. The veins on his forearms bulged as if they were about to burst. For some reason, he had ripped the sleeves off his gambeson, wearing it like a vest over his armor.
Yet, he blocked it.
Though his feet slid slightly to the side, leaving tracks in the gravel, he had stopped it. Bell couldn't wrap his head around the situation.
Then, "...We're alive."
It was the recruit. He was crying as he spoke. His tearful voice reached everyone's ears.
The moment Bell fully grasped the situation, his chest swelled. Tears almost welled up in his own eyes. Along with the joy of survival, the back of the man who had previously brought unspeakable terror to both ally and foe alike now looked incredibly reassuring.
Giants were monsters. Red-blooded demonic beasts. They were said to worship slaughter and mindless violence.
But so what? There was one here, too.
A madman, a monster. A monster so terrifying that just watching him fight could make his own allies' skin crawl.
"Did you coat your mouth in honey? Why'd you shut up all of a sudden?"
The monster spoke in his usual, incredibly obnoxious tone. Today, however, it sounded like a heavenly orchestra.
"You... insect!" the giant roared in anger.
Rem smirked. What's he babbling about, the dumbass.
*
Rem was in a great mood. So good, in fact, that it reminded him of his very first battle.
It was all thanks to his sparring match with the platoon leader. Did it make sense to be this pumped up over a single sparring match? It was probably because he had accumulated so much frustration over time. Now that he felt completely refreshed, Rem wanted to have a proper fight.
He also wanted to show Encrid.
Watch closely. Because this is what you're going to learn next.
Since childhood, Rem hadn't so much as blinked at an axe blade flying toward him. Even so, Rem had learned, mastered, and trained the Beast's Heart. Why would he have learned it if it only granted boldness and composure? It would have been useless otherwise.
Naturally, he had mastered it because it was useful. The reason he mastered it was because the Beast's Heart didn't just stop at granting boldness. From this point on, it could be considered a technique that was half Rem's own creation. Not his tribe's, but his own.
Thump.
His heart beat twice as fast as usual, pumping blood throughout his entire body. His blood flow accelerated rapidly.
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
His blood vessels expanded, his muscles swelled, and their density shifted. His body, enhanced by the sorcerous technique originating from his heart, was now imbued with truly monstrous strength.
Rem decided to call this the Heart of Monstrous Strength.
Since his tribesmen only used this technique to prevent aging, this was, in fact, a technique unique to Rem. If learned incorrectly, one's heart would explode, blood vessels would burst, or muscles would necrose, leading to death.
Well, it couldn't be helped that it was difficult to learn. He had told Encrid to watch and learn, but the choice would ultimately be his. Of course, if Encrid wanted to learn, Rem would teach him slowly, step by step. He planned to engrave it into him bit by bit so he wouldn't die.
It would hurt a bit, but Encrid was the type to ignore pain and learn anyway.
Blocking the giant's hammer, Rem unleashed his monstrous strength and swung his axe.
Swoosh!
The hammer came crashing down at a terrifying speed, and Rem struck back with his axe.
Clang! Screeech! Bang!
The axe blade couldn't withstand the impact and shattered. It practically exploded. This was the result even though he had deflected the blow as much as possible.
Rem swung his left arm outward, flinging the shattered fragments of the axe blade to one side. Some of the broken shards embedded themselves into the giant's wooden armor with a sharp thud-thud-thud.
Maybe I should have used a better weapon.
He could have just used a club like that perverted religious fanatic. Rem wasn't particularly picky about weapons, but axes suited his hands best.
Thud.
He tossed aside the remaining axe handle and kicked up a spear lying at his feet. A spear in his left hand, an axe in his right. Rem grinned, holding a weapon in each hand. It was a smile of absolute satisfaction—the joy of finally finding a worthy opponent after so long, combined with his elevated mood following his sparring match with Encrid.
"Hey, let's have some fun."
The clash that followed was fierce. Literally no one could even get close to them.
Boom! Crash! Clang! Cl-cl-cl-ang!
He picked up fallen spears from the ground to thrust and slashed with his axe. When a weapon broke, he simply grabbed whatever was scattered on the ground. Just as those were about to run out—
"Hey, throw them!"
Bell, quick on the uptake, threw the weapon in his hand. It was a spear or a handaxe. Someone else aimed a dagger at the giant's eye, but the beast simply jerked his head and took the hit on his forehead.
Thud!
What kind of skin was that? The sharp dagger bounced off into the air without leaving so much as a scratch.
Then what on earth was Rem, who was fighting such a monster? They didn't know. The only certainty was that this monster was protecting them.
Encrid watched Rem's fight. The combat was fierce. Brutal. Above all—
He's matching strength with a giant?
Does that mean his physical strength is superior even to Frok's?
Is that it? The thing he told me to learn next? The thing he told me to watch closely?
Thump.
His heart raced. There was something new to learn. For Encrid, the desire to learn was his most fundamental urge.
"We can leave now. Seeing how he's just playing around," Ragna spoke from beside him.
Rem looked like he was having fun fighting the giant. Yes, looking at him made it obvious. Even though he could win and kill the beast, he was currently testing the waters.
Why? To show me?
The thought crossed his mind for a moment, but he dismissed it as overthinking. Rem just seemed to be having a blast.
"Let's go do our job now."
Ragna also seemed impatient. Why was he so eager to fight? A guy who usually didn't have a shred of motivation.
"Alright."
Since Ragna was urging him so, Encrid took a step forward. He felt he had seen everything Rem wanted him to see. Ragna was supposed to head to the right, but he kept stepping in the wrong direction. Encrid grabbed him and guided him.
"If we clean up this side, things should be fine," Krais said, following closely behind.
Was that so? Encrid couldn't see the overall state of the battle. Only the now, the present, mattered.
As they moved to the right, they saw the enemy forces gathered there. Ten men who looked completely at ease.
What was this? Some cruel joke of fate?
As they drew close enough to see their faces, Encrid realized he knew the man standing in the center. Why was that fellow here?
The opponent recognized Encrid's face as well. Indeed, Encrid's face was that of a handsome man, hard to forget once seen.
"You... you're alive?"
Recognizing Encrid, the man blinked in surprise, his eyes widening, before asking with a smile. His smile was the kind that crinkled his eyes. Though, seeing his triangle-shaped eyes twist, it was far from a pleasant impression.
"I am," Encrid replied calmly.
Ragna asked with his eyes: Someone you know?
"From my mercenary days..." Encrid shortened his explanation, realizing it would take too long to explain in full. "A bastard I met."
Yes, indeed. That was the perfect description for a piece of trash like him. He was a son of a bitch who had a habit of stabbing his allies in the back, raping women, and then murdering them.
I should have killed him back then.
He had heard the man fled somewhere after offending a noble, but to think he was here.
"Hey now, is that any way to talk to an old friend you haven't seen in ages?"
Friend? Encrid felt a rare surge of disgust. A friend to something like that?
Ragna asked with his eyes again.
"No. A bastard."
When Encrid repeated it short and sweet, Ragna nodded.
"Ha, well, you always did have a slick tongue. But how did you manage to survive? What, did you sell your ass to someone?"
Even during his mercenary days, Encrid had often heard such insults. It was the kind of talk he got because of his face. He had heard it occasionally after joining the army, too. But it had been a very long time since he last heard it. Lately, no one dared to mock him like that.
Since he had proven himself with his skills, who would say such things? Thus, Encrid brushed off the provocation without a second thought. Ragna didn't care either. The guy was going to die anyway.
"Then the captain can slice that one up," Ragna said, stepping aside.
It seemed he was claiming the other nine as his opponents.
"Just three of you against the ten of us?"
"I'm not fighting. You only need to worry about these two," Krais spoke from behind.
Encrid swept his gaze over the surroundings. What had these ten done? It was obvious at a glance that the allied soldiers didn't dare to attack them. The corpses scattered around caught his eye.
Bodies riddled with holes. They bore the marks of the weapon that bastard frequently used. Encrid shifted his gaze slightly to check the other corpses. He saw wounds from slashes, cuts, and thrusts made by swords, spears, and daggers.
But the wounds were strangely messy. The punctured areas were the same. It was as if they had been tortured.
"They are men drunk on the 'Killing Sword.' The kind who seek to improve their skills through slaughter. It's fine. Didn't I tell you before? If you do not walk the proper path, your limits are clear," Ragna said from beside him.
He had indeed. He said that if one remained bound to the Valen-style mercenary sword, they would end up like that, reaching a dead end. So, he had told him to rebuild his basics from scratch.
And so he had. He rebuilt them and forged ahead once more. It was a path that now had a clear signpost.
Encrid drew his sword.
Shring.
"I'll take that one."
As Ragna had suggested, it could be called a grudge, or a scene from a play of vengeance. Encrid decided to honor his comrades whose hearts had been torn out by harpies, and those who had died back then.
By severing the neck of this perverted piece of trash.