Chapter 174: The Provoked Frok, the Panther, and the Man
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 174: The Provoked Frok, the Panther, and the Man
The emergency bell tolled, but it woke no one. Those already awake cannot be roused again.
Everyone had spent the night with their eyes wide open, haunted by the rumor that another pack of gnolls was coming. And now, the horde of monsters and demonic beasts had returned.
This time, however, was different.
As they rushed in, flooding one side of the wilderness, there were objects among them that had never been seen before. They approached in groups of two or three, carrying long, wooden frames tucked under their arms—crude "tools" with holes spaced out along their length.
Instead of charging in a chaotic frenzy, they maintained a semblance of order. There were dozens of these organized groups.
Deutsch estimated their numbers using a trick he’d learned from a veteran mercenary when he first started out. He curled his fingers into a circle, counted the gnolls within that frame, and then calculated how many of those circles would fit the entire horizon.
‘Twenty.’
Roughly twenty per circle, and about fifty circles.
Wriggling among the gnolls and hyena demonic beasts was a sea of ghouls. It was a terrifying number—far more than yesterday. And yesterday had already been a nightmare.
Everything was dreadful, but the most horrifying sight was what they held in their hands. Those long, holed tools.
"Ladders?"
The word slipped out of his mouth. Deutsch Fullman felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.
The gnolls had brought ladders.
Gnolls were monsters, but they used weapons. If they could learn, they were capable of utilizing tools. What was even more absurd was that, even at a glance, the objects were clearly makeshift.
‘They built ladders and brought them?’
No, what the hell? Since when did gnolls build ladders?
They said there was a sinister mastermind behind this, and that bastard had clearly pulled the strings.
‘A cultist.’
Once his thoughts reached that point, he felt even more lightheaded. Of course, the immediate problem was the ladders. Whether they were hastily thrown together or crafted with care, once they were propped up against the wall in droves, the quality of the wood wouldn't matter.
"Boiling oil!" Deutsch shouted reflexively.
"As if we have any of that!" the Village Chief’s shout came back.
There were some stones left to throw, but they were far from plentiful. They had a decent number of arrows, but could they really repel a horde of monsters that looked to be at least a thousand strong with just that? When the enemies were clumped together beneath the wall, any shot would hit—but they only had twenty archers.
They couldn't pour boiling oil like a proper fortress. Should they gather sewage and pour it down? Would gnolls or hyena demonic beasts retreat just because they got splashed with filth? Not a chance.
If they could just hold out for seven days, reinforcements would arrive. But could they survive that long?
‘If only we had enough stones.’
What would happen if all the villagers joined the twenty archers? Once they ran out of stones to throw, the villagers couldn't even be used as makeshift soldiers. Pushing these civilians into hand-to-hand combat would be like throwing rare steaks to the gnolls.
They couldn't haul suitable throwing stones from the quarry in a single day. They had neither the energy nor the manpower. They would carry whatever they could, but it was impossible. They couldn't stop them that way.
‘It's hopeless.’
Once the ladders were set, it was over. The disparity in numbers was too great to stop with just arrows and falling rocks. If that cultist bastard pulled another trick, it would be the end. How could they stop him if he cast a curse? They’d be lucky if everyone didn't just groan and collapse. Even Deutsch himself had no proper means to resist a curse right now.
This was not a scale that a mere pioneer village, defended by a former mercenary captain, could handle.
To be honest, Deutsch wanted to run. Yesterday's victory had already vanished from his mind.
Did the artisan brought in to build the wall say he would name this place "Crazy Encrid's Wall"? What a joke. They wouldn't even be able to lay the foundation stone. At this rate, this place would become a gnoll colony. A gnoll village—how absurd.
Of course, once a large-scale subjugation force was organized, a village of mere gnolls would be burned down in no time. But what about the people who would die and lose their homes in the meantime?
Deutsch had invested his entire fortune and everything he had into this pioneer village. If he lost it, he would be penniless. He would have to live by swinging his sword from the bottom up all over again.
So, should he run? Was that really the only way?
‘If I run, where to?’
There was nowhere to go. If he took his mercenary band and fled through the quarry, where would they go? Would they have to cross the border? As if they could cross it so easily. A journey without preparation was practically suicide.
And yet, his long experience as a mercenary told him that running away still offered a higher chance of survival.
"Fuck."
A curse slipped out of his mouth. It was then that voices drifted over from beside him.
"What was that fellow's name again?"
"Deutsch."
The hero of last night, the crazy platoon leader with black hair and blue eyes. The madman who had charged into the gnoll horde alone and sliced up their leader.
"Deutsch, let's open the gate a bit," Encrid said.
Deutsch's brow furrowed like a turbulent wave, mirroring his state of mind, while Krais, standing beside him, recited his prepared words in a clear, resonant voice.
"I trust you haven't forgotten that operational command belongs to my platoon leader. Obey his order immediately, Captain of the Pioneer Village Guard."
He was merely reciting what had to be upheld, but the effect was clear. Krais didn't use a particularly arrogant or overbearing tone, but his timing was absolutely perfect.
You don't have a choice anyway, do you? Can't you tell by looking at that? Look at the number of ladders. Isn't this moment far more horrific than when they first came? And what are you going to do about the cultist? You don't have any options.
To put it simply, it was an escape route. Relinquishing command meant being freed from responsibility. By Krais's standards, Deutsch Fullman was foolish, but a decent fellow.
‘It would have been so much easier if he'd just given up sooner.’
The defense force of a pioneer village? The guard? What was so great about wearing such a useless crown? Doing it for the future? Ha, this was a gamble. Countless pioneer villages had crumbled just like this. Moreover, with things twisted to this extent?
If it were Krais himself, he would have taken his mercenary band, plundered the village to near ruin, and fled long ago. Seriously.
Of course, Krais couldn't do that. If he did, a blade might fly at him instead of Encrid's hand or foot.
Seriously, what did he expect to get out of it? The platoon leader was dead serious about saving people. Thinking about it made his stomach churn a bit. What a man, always picking the strangest things to do.
Look at this. Even now, he was continuing with his bizarre behavior. It was right after the emergency bell rang.
"Only Luagarne, Esther, and I are going out."
"Where to?"
"Outside the wall."
That was what Encrid had said while the emergency bell was ringing. Krais had seriously wondered if Encrid had suffered a head injury during yesterday's fight.
"You do know you almost died yesterday, right?"
Encrid nodded. "It was a bit close."
Does this bastard not value his own life?
"Keep your eyes straight."
The moment Krais thought it, Encrid spoke. Not wanting to get hit for no reason, Krais quickly averted his gaze.
"What if your luck runs out today?"
"I have Luagarne."
No, no matter how incredible a Frok was, was Luagarne a knight? She wasn't. Which meant it was dangerous.
"Find your own role and do it."
Encrid said only that. That was the end of their conversation. After that, Krais had to use his own brain.
‘So, a single human, a single Frok, and a single panther are going to fight a full-scale battle.’
What could the remaining people do? Cheer them on, maybe.
‘Or we could rain down arrows at the right moments.’
Krais cast aside the brief thoughts passing through his mind. Now was the time to focus on the task at hand.
"Then, having received the command, I order you. Open the gate," Krais said.
Encrid had already gone down to the gate, chatting with Luagarne about something. Beside him, Esther could be seen trotting along.
‘Don't die.’
Krais prayed silently. If the platoon leader died, Krais himself would hardly survive. In Krais's eyes, Encrid was no fool.
‘He must have something planned.’
Absurd as it was, he believed in him. Krais recalled Encrid's back, which had stood before him in the middle of the battlefield in the past. He had barely survived back then. The platoon leader of that time and the platoon leader of now were incomparable. It wasn't just a matter of him being promoted from squad leader to platoon leader. His skills had grown. They said his dream was to become a knight, and he was improving at a terrifying pace, as if he truly would become one.
"I said open it! Disobedience will be punished by decapitation, Deutsch Fullman!"
Krais's voice carried weight. It was a coercive tone he hadn't used until now. He was neither a mercenary captain nor Encrid. He was just a weak human, so shouldn't he ride on the coattails of authority?
"...Y-Yes, sir."
Deutsch responded. He was now a former guard captain who had cast aside his duties and responsibilities.
"Cut off the heads of those who do not listen."
He said it to Deutsch, but would he actually cut off heads? Of course not.
Soon, with a rumbling sound, the pulley turned, and the log gate opened with a creak. Through it, Encrid, Luagarne, and Esther stepped outside.
It was not a reckless charge like yesterday. The gnolls and hyena demonic beasts had formed a crude but distinct formation, and a horde of ghouls was approaching in a tight pack from one side. The cultist was likely hiding somewhere deep within their ranks.
Faced with what could only be described as a massive army, a mere trio stood before them.
Seeing this, Krais's mouth went dry. He swallowed hard, trying not to let anyone notice. No matter what they did, he had to support them from behind.
"Bring every soldier who is confident in archery!"
Along with the archers...
"Pile stones nearby so we can throw them at any moment!"
Even the villagers began to move according to Krais's orders. Using the log barricade as their wall, it was time to face the massive enemy army once again.
*
Encrid was glad that Krais was taking the initiative, as it left him with fewer things to worry about.
‘If it weren't for the treasure, I would have had to work my ass off.’
If it hadn't been for him obsessing over some map, there was no way Krais would have tagged along on a mission like this. And if that were the case, Encrid wouldn't have bothered bringing him either. The miscellaneous commands and trivial tasks—if not for Krais, Encrid would have had to handle them all himself.
Deutsch Fullman, who had been a Glaive—whether they called him one-eyed, squinty-eyed, or whatever—looked like a man who had lost his nerve.
‘That's the exact face of someone who'll barely hold out before dying.’
It was a broken expression, one he had seen all too often.
Encrid stopped paying attention after that. From here on, it was just his sword, himself, and reflecting on his newly realized insights. It was time for that.
As he stood before the log gate, his dream from last night naturally came to mind. The conversation with the Ferryman, which remained as vivid as a brand in his mind, the Ferryman's reaction, and what had transpired afterward.
"You used a shortcut."
There was no emotion in the Ferryman's voice as he spoke.
‘It just happened.’
He spoke with his mind. The Ferryman managed to understand him.
Sway.
Even though there were no waves, the ferryboat rocked up and down. It was as if it represented the Ferryman's current mood.
How dare you? A shortcut? Such trickery?
Yet, Encrid remained at peace.
"Bound by the laws, wandering through time, you shall know regret. This is not the end."
The Ferryman warned him, reciting something akin to poetry, and Encrid simply brushed it off. What was the point of dwelling on words he couldn't even comprehend? He merely dreamed of tomorrow, both now and in his sleep.
That was the end of it. The Ferryman vanished, and a nightmare followed. He was trapped in a well, and though he could see the moon shining high above, he was trapped in a repeating day where he could never climb out. In the dream, Encrid desperately scaled the wall, his fingernails cracking, peeling, and tearing, but in the end, he could never reach the top.
That was why he had been thrashing around in his sleep.
"What kind of dream was it?" Luagarne asked as the log gate opened.
"A dream where the moonlight was beautiful."
It wasn't a lie. The moonlight pouring down into the well had been truly beautiful. Beautiful enough to make him drunk on it, even though it was a dream. It was the kind of moonlight that required not a single drop of alcohol.
"It doesn't sound like a nightmare."
"Is that so?"
They exchanged a few casual words.
"Kyah."
Esther let out a cry at the sight of the open gate. Glancing down, Encrid felt her staring intently at him.
"I'm counting on you again today."
Esther was no ordinary panther. That was a fact he had already accepted. Then, what about himself?
"Fuuuu."
He took a deep breath. He reflected on what he had learned. Ah, there was something he had to check first. He had almost forgotten.
"Luagarne."
"Speak."
"Show me what you've got."
How well would a provoked Frok fight? Reminding her of this easily forgotten fact...
Gurgle.
Luagarne's cheeks puffed up enormously.
"Fine, I'll show you."
The Frok was the first to move. Boom! She kicked off the ground, sending a fountain of dirt into the air as she dashed forward. What a reassuring sight.
He was indeed curious. Just how well a provoked Frok could fight.