Chapter 146: Acceptance, Acknowledgment, and Acquiescence
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 146: Acceptance, Acknowledgment, and Acquiescence
Krais tucked the rolled-up parchment back into his shirt and spoke.
The path was brutal—a steep, jagged slope of loose rock that left him gasping for air. Still, he wasn't so winded that he couldn't manage a conversation.
"What about Rem? Rem is..."
Whew.
He wedged his foot into a narrow crevice between the rocks. Just as a wave of dizziness threatened to pull him down, a hand appeared before his eyes. It was Encrid, reaching out.
Krais grabbed it, and Encrid hauled him up.
They were perched on a rocky mountainside, using the massive boulders behind them as a natural shield. Of all the routes they could have taken, they had chosen the most treacherous.
It was the right call. The fact that no arrows were currently raining down on them was proof enough.
"If you look past his personality, don't you think he's actually a pretty decent soldier?" Krais asked.
Encrid stepped onto a flat rock, leaned his back against an adjacent boulder, and turned to look at him.
"If we're talking strictly about skill..." Encrid started, then trailed off.
If they were talking strictly about skill, "decent" didn't even begin to cover it. But what if Rem actually had an agreeable personality?
Krais asked again, his voice tinged with worry. "He'll be fine, right?"
Showing anxiety despite being the one who designed the plan was simply Krais’s nature. Even during peaceful times, he was the type of man who would secretly stash his belongings near the barracks just in case. Though no one knew for sure, he had likely hidden caches of supplies all over the territory.
"You never know when the enemy might spring an ambush. If I die after hiding all that, I’d probably become a lingering ghost out of sheer spite."
There had been no sign of such a thing happening, and logically, it was practically impossible.
"I'm just anxious. It's because I'm anxious."
That was what his big-eyed subordinate always said. Well, fair enough. Everyone was different. Compared to Krais, Encrid considered himself rather easygoing.
After staring at him for a moment, Encrid finally answered. "Since he said he'd do it, he'll handle it."
Rem was that kind of man. He might not lift a finger for mundane tasks, but once he committed to a goal, he saw it through to the end.
"Are you going to learn?"
Hadn't he been exactly like that when he first taught Encrid the Beast's Heart? Who else would pass on their secret techniques so casually?
"Watch closely, because you're going to learn this next."
It had been the same when he demonstrated the Heart of Monstrous Strength. He said he would kill the giant, and he did.
Thinking back on it now... He really is a strange fellow.
Rem would do exactly what he said. What was it he had told them before leaving? Something about the difference between a hunter and a sniper?
"I'm going to go shove this right into that hawk-bastard's head."
He had said that while tucking an enemy arrow into his belt. He would take care of it.
"It's going to be hard to stay hidden from here on out," Finn said from the front.
Up until now, they had been moving through the gaps between the boulders. Since they couldn't seize the high ground, they had sought out paths that offered maximum cover from ranged weapons. It was a moment that truly highlighted Finn's exceptional skills as a ranger. Thanks to her, they had avoided detection.
But they had reached the limit of what a ranger's talents could provide.
Encrid mentally calculated the time. It should be about time for Rem to make his move. They were positioned along the rocky ridge; if they headed down to the left from here, they would rejoin the main force and return to base.
"We should just wait," Encrid said.
Finn didn't argue. To her eyes, there was an invisible, unbreakable bond between these men. Encrid's words carried an implicit trust that Rem, who had vanished alone into the brush, would handle the impossible.
What about the other squad members? Aside from Andrew and Mac, everyone else looked completely relaxed.
"The Lord rejoices, for He has sent a believer to my side. Let the faithless repent and remain by our side; rebuke their sins, yet grant them absolution," Audin prayed, his voice a low murmur.
Sachsen was busy inspecting the blade of a stiletto. Despite his expressionless face, he looked strangely intoxicated. Intoxicated by a blade? Even to Finn, it didn't look like an ordinary weapon. Still, it was odd to treasure a single dagger so much. There was a rare, lively glow on his face.
The slacker of the group had simply sprawled out. He had somehow managed to squeeze himself into a crevice between the rocks, closing his eyes as he cradled his two swords.
"I'm so sleep-deprived..." he muttered to himself.
Seeing him mumble like that, Finn was certain he wasn't normal. Is it really okay to leave them like this?
In Finn's professional judgment, they needed to move. There was a master archer out there whose accuracy was legendary. It was a lethal threat; their lives could be hanging by a thread at this very moment.
"I think we'll be fine."
The one who spoke up was Krais. Despite his constant whining about being anxious, he was now the one declaring they were safe. What he said next was even more absurd.
"I don't think there are many variables left."
What variables? He didn't offer an explanation.
Finn intentionally leaned out to check their rear, hoping to draw fire and pinpoint the enemy's location. No arrows came.
*
Man, this brings back memories.
The days when he used to sleep on the open plains with only the sky for a blanket. The times he ran across mountain ridges as if they were his playground.
What was he like back then? He was a magnificent, peerless hunter, carrying the hopes and expectations of his people. It was a time when he navigated the weight of responsibility and the lure of power. There were good moments and bad.
And they were moments he could never return to.
But what could he do? One had to accept what must be accepted and move on. Now, the West had become a frontier.
Acceptance and acquiescence.
Rem had learned that by watching Encrid. In a way, his platoon leader was a man who absolutely refused to accept or acquiesce to anything. Yet, from another perspective, he was also a man who accepted, acquiesced, and acknowledged more than anyone.
With that level of skill, with that lack of talent...
Refusing to give up and striving to become a knight? It was a suicide attempt. An act that slowly killed both his body and mind. And yet, he kept moving forward. Watching Encrid’s back brought all sorts of thoughts to Rem's mind.
How could a human be like that?
As he pondered this, a realization struck him. It starts with acknowledging that you have no talent.
That was Encrid's starting point. Acknowledging, accepting, and acquiescing. After reflecting on what he possessed, what did he do? He forged ahead. He acquired the Beast's Heart, something Rem thought would be impossible to master unless one was on the brink of death. And now, even monstrous strength resided within that heart.
He had acquiesced, acknowledged, and accepted—and then he walked toward tomorrow. Unwavering, whether at dawn or dusk.
As expected, thinking of his platoon leader lifted his spirits. Rem let out a silent smile. Feeling inexplicably cheerful, he thought: It's been a while.
He felt like swinging his axe with wild abandon. A desire to return to the days when he surrendered his entire being to the "hunt" slowly reared its head.
Finding the tracks of Hawk's Claw was not difficult. Rem was neither a pathfinder nor a ranger. He was a hunter.
What was a hunter? They called those who walked well "pathfinders." They called those who walked well and fought well "rangers." Rangers were specialists among scouts. But did that make them hunters? You couldn't call someone a hunter just because they caught a few rabbits.
Then what was a hunter?
What else? The ones who actually catch what they target.
The people of the continent were mostly in poor shape. Was her name Enri? A plains hunter? No, you couldn't call that a hunter. In his tribe, Enri wouldn't even qualify as a guide. She wasn't even half of one.
According to his tribe, hunters were those who killed and seized their prey. The ones who sustained the tribe's very life.
Found you.
At the end of his thoughts, Rem spotted his prey. Twitching his nose to follow the scent, he had circled around and taken them from behind. Erasing his tracks was child's play. If it was just about walking without making a sound, Rem was as confident as a mountain cat.
By Rem's standards, prey could be categorized into easy and difficult. Right now, this was the easiest kind. An idiot completely distracted by his own target—what could be simpler?
His steps were like those of the spotted predator, the finest hunter of the Western wilderness. His breathing was long and slow; he held his breath to conceal his presence, imitating the round-headed beast known as the hunter of the Western lakes.
There was a slight rustle of fabric, but he ignored it. The enemy was entirely focused on what lay ahead. Having closed the distance, Rem crept up right behind the last man in the line.
The target remained oblivious. The enemies were advancing toward higher ground, walking in a single file.
Rem reached out. He tapped the left shoulder of the man walking ahead of him. The man flinched and whipped his body around.
Good reaction time.
The moment Rem tapped the left shoulder, he shifted to the right. His movements were as swift as a ghost and as silent as a leopard. From the target's perspective, he felt a touch on his back left, turned around, and saw absolutely nothing.
Thwack!
After that, it was just axe-work. He swung his axe down on the exposed nape of the neck as if splitting firewood. Blood splattered with the sound of tearing flesh. A heavy spray of crimson hit Rem's cheek.
Instead of smiling, Rem simply observed the men who turned around with his cold, gray eyes. Every single one of them wore a look of sheer terror. Startled eyes. Those wide-open eyes reminded him of herbivores—like deer.
Seeing such terrified faces was one of the true joys of hunting.
"...Ambush!"
"Fuck!"
"Block him!"
Curses flew as chaotic movement erupted. As Rem lowered his stance to pounce, the enemies reacted. Three of them drew their shortswords with a sharp clink-clink-clink!
Their reaction time was decent. Rem shrugged his right shoulder once and moved his left hand. It was a simple trick. Since his axe was in his right hand, their attention was naturally fixed there.
Sure enough, the enemy's gaze lingered on his right shoulder. In that split second, a hand axe thrown from Rem's left hand flew with a whoosh and embedded itself in the forehead of the archer in the back. The force of the blow lifted the man off his feet, sending him flying backward.
"Scatter!" one of them shouted.
If they stayed grouped, they would die. Had they recognized the gap in their skills at a glance? Or was it just a command born of pure instinct? Either way, it was timely.
Though the order to scatter had been given, the three swordsmen did the opposite and rushed Rem to buy time. It was a coordinated maneuver. Meanwhile, the remaining five fled. They quickly dispersed to the left and right, scrambling down the rocky mountain, while one of them began climbing even higher.
Since two of the original ten were already dead...
Rem began swinging his axe as he calculated. Naturally, they were no match for him. He lunged, splitting and slashing. His simple movements were like the Grim Reaper's scythe.
Amidst the slashed and dying bodies, the blood-drenched, gray-haired hunter twitched his nose. The scent of humans wafted through the metallic stench of blood. The tribe-trained hunter set his feet in motion once more.
Rem had no intention of letting a single one escape.
*
What in the world...
Hawk's Claw felt the distinct sensation of being hunted. It was utterly baffling.
Born in a mountain village in Azpen, he had been gifted with a natural talent for archery since childhood. Becoming the village's best hunter by age fifteen was only natural. Every shot he fired hit its mark; he could see exactly where to strike to kill.
After leaving his village to become a mercenary, he gained fame, which eventually caught the eye of a noble. Then came his military service. It was the beginning of a life that guaranteed status and wealth.
"How would you like to become a member of the Principality?"
In fact, he was on the verge of being adopted by the very noble he had saved. Even if his adoptive father was less than ten years older than him, what did that matter? Only status mattered. Once he finished this mission and returned, it would become reality.
"I will grant you the newly acquired territory."
Those were his adoptive father's words. Hawk's Claw could do it. He could become the lord of a territory, transcending his social class. If things went well, he might even have been able to enter into holy matrimony with his half-sister.
Swish. Thud!
"Gah!"
Something flew through the air and embedded itself in the back of his thigh. Hawk's Claw rolled forward, writhing in agonizing pain. His head slammed against a rock with a heavy thud. His vision spun. He caught his breath, unable to see clearly, until the world finally stopped shaking.
"Cough."
As his sight returned, his stomach churned. Suppressing the urge to vomit, he looked ahead.
"You run well. You."
The Grim Reaper stood there. A reaper with gray hair.
"How..." Hawk's Claw gasped.
How had he tracked him? Why hadn't he noticed his approach? The single word carried a multitude of questions.
Rem did not converse with his prey.
Squelch.
The arrow Hawk's Claw had shot earlier was driven straight into his own neck. Piercing the soft flesh, the arrowhead emerged from the back of his throat. Gurgling bloody foam formed as blood poured down his windpipe. The dark gray rock was stained crimson.
"Hmm."
Rem admired his handiwork for a moment before dusting off his hands. It had been a while since his last hunt, but the prey had been far too easy. Though it was a bit disappointing, it was already in the past.
Acknowledgment, acceptance, and acquiescence.
The same thoughts continued to linger. Throughout the entire hunt, Rem had been thinking of his platoon leader. What would happen if I lived like that too? It was a question that had been occupying his mind lately.
*
Marcus marched his unit toward Cross Guard. For exactly two days, they moved at a normal marching pace—actually, it was slower than normal, since they took every possible break along the way.
Will this actually work?
What if it didn't? Should he ask that fellow Encrid, who had proposed this? No, his adjutants weren't that foolish.
"We can just withdraw. Whether they fall for it or not, the enemy will have no choice but to be mindful of us."
"Actually attacking the territory is a poor move, but this... Who did you say proposed this strategy?"
It was a squad member who had passed the message through the Elven company commander—or more precisely, through Encrid. Was his name Krais?
Somehow, there wasn't a single normal person in that platoon.
It could well be called a brilliant stratagem. Feign an attack on the territory, then bypass it with the unit. Then, link up with the rear of the main force to block the detour.
What if the enemy committed their forces to defending the territory or the detour? That would be a success. Conversely, what if they didn't budge at all? That was also a success.
Wasn't that why the Mad Platoon had set out? Even if they couldn't deliver a crushing blow to the enemy's rear, they could at least flick them on the nose and return.
Marcus figured that "flick" would be quite hard. It might be the most powerful flick on the forehead on the entire continent.
The thought made him chuckle.
At any rate, they proceeded according to the plan for two days, and then spent three to four days assessing the situation. After marching for over four days, they changed direction. It was time to return.
Marcus did not rush on the way back either. If possible, he wanted to see them.
That expectation was met.
"The Mad Platoon, the platoon leader and seven others, have returned."
Those who had gone out on the guerrilla operation had come back.