Chapter 18: You Survived?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 18: You Survived?
As night fell, he strained his ears, listening for the sound of the assassin’s approach.
It was largely a futile effort.
In all his previous lives, he had never once sensed a sound or a presence before the end came.
'Let's just keep at it for now.'
There was no need to overthink. Once a training method was decided, he simply had to plow ahead like an ox tilling a field.
And so, Encrid did exactly that.
Before the poison dart flew, the assassin would undoubtedly enter the tent. He had to hear that presence.
Every day, he would lie down, fall asleep, and wake up to the exact same morning. But he didn't foolishly limit his training to the nighttime. If he could do more, it was best to give it his all.
During the day, he sought out Sachsen.
It was the day immediately after he had first learned Auditory Training. Encrid waited patiently in front of the tent, having arrived much earlier than usual. Hearing whispering from inside, he didn't draw any closer. He didn't know what sweet nothings they were sharing, and he had no desire to find out.
Eventually, he met Sachsen.
"Let's walk for a bit," Sachsen said.
They conversed as they walked. The same questions, the same attitude. Even though he heard the same words every time, Encrid unconsciously adopted the attentive listening posture he had seen Krang use.
Listening well was deeply connected to learning well. After all, one had to listen and comprehend first for there to be a next step. Though he might not have consciously realized it, Encrid listened intently because he instinctively knew how crucial it was. In that regard, an attentive listening attitude was an unparalleled tool.
Sachsen repeated the same explanation every single time. And sometimes, Encrid had to pretend to be a genius.
"Having eyes in the back of your head... that means listening, right? Hearing with your ears?"
"……It seems you don't even need an explanation."
"Sound has direction, too. You can distinguish front, back, left, and right through the direction and intensity of the noise, correct?"
Sachsen paused. "Are you some kind of genius?"
"What?"
"Nothing. You are more clever than I thought."
"Did I look like an idiot to you?"
"No, of course not."
And then, he died again. The day repeated once more.
The morning began with the grumbling of Vengeance Platoon Leader.
"Hey, where's breakfast? Where did this slacker run off to?"
"Yes, yes. It's only natural to get cranky when you're hungry," Encrid replied casually.
"What?"
"I'll go get breakfast so our platoon leader stops whining."
"……Are you crazy?"
Not really. Since nothing he said mattered anyway, he had decided to start the day by teasing the man.
He observed the people passing by. Using certain events as milestones, he spent each repeating day slightly differently. Half-jokingly, Encrid skipped breakfast and repeated the day.
Five times, ten times.
As the loops continued, he grew accustomed to dragging Sachsen out of his tent. At first, it had been awkward, but after accidentally overhearing the "sweet nothings" the two whispered inside, he lost all hesitation.
He knew which spots were good today. He knew which spots were better last time. He even knew which positions they preferred.
In one of the repeated days, Encrid swept the tent flap aside without hesitation.
"Sachsen, got a minute?"
"……What is it?"
"If you're going to keep going, I'll leave."
"Even if I wanted to, you've completely ruined the mood," Sachsen sighed.
"Then come on out."
The woman beside Sachsen glared at Encrid with a bewildered look that screamed, 'Who the hell is this bastard?'
He had felt awkward at first, but as he grew accustomed to the loop, he became shameless. He simply ignored her. Above all, Sachsen didn't particularly complain about the treatment; he was merely curious as to why Encrid was acting this way.
And Encrid always resolved that curiosity the same way.
"Are you curious about that?"
"No. Never mind."
The training remained the same. Once Encrid grew somewhat accustomed to isolating sounds, Sachsen voiced his doubts.
"……Have you ever learned this sort of thing before?"
"A little from my grandfather when I was young," Encrid lied.
Encrid was a war orphan. He didn't even know his parents, let alone a grandfather.
"I see."
Despite the flimsy excuse, Sachsen let it slide.
Encrid spent every day productively. While training his thrusts had required constant movement, this task required him to sit perfectly still.
There were results. Though slow, Encrid continued to make steady progress.
'Let's do as I was taught.'
If he couldn't take a full step, he would take a half-step. If a half-step was too much, then a quarter-step. And if even that wasn't permitted, he would start by wiggling his toes.
By the time he had repeated the same day about twenty times...
'I can hear it.'
He heard the sound of the wind whipping against the flag.
Creak, rattle.
He heard the grating noise of a carriage wheel. It sounded like broken clockwork with misaligned gears.
'It's the sound of something breaking.'
Sounds had categories. Some sounds conveyed information as if speaking to him. The sound carried by a flag was one such example.
"Determining a west wind is simple," Sachsen had said. "Check where I am sitting, find north, and then follow the direction of the fluttering flag."
Easier said than done. No one could possibly master this on their first try. But Encrid had repetition, and more repetition. As always, even though he lived by carving up day after day, his mindset remained unwavering.
Everything began to synergize.
'Following the sound of the fluttering flag.'
Depending on where he sat, he could determine the wind's direction. It wasn't particularly useful in daily life or on the battlefield—anyone could tell which way the wind blew just by sitting there—but the significance lay in the fact that he had discerned it solely through sound.
He distinguished the doctor's voice. He estimated its volume to measure distance.
'If I master this properly, it'll be useful on the battlefield.'
Come to think of it, Sachsen always managed to avoid dangerous battlefields by staying one step ahead. Had he listened, judged, and moved in advance? Was such a thing even possible?
There was no way to know right now. Distinguishing sounds was the first step. The second was measuring distance through hearing. Encrid had just barely completed these two.
The third step was isolating and listening to minute sounds. Hadn't it been said that the best training was listening for an assassin's presence?
'It's ironic, but...'
...it was the perfect environment.
Dying without even knowing what had happened was far more unpleasant than he had imagined. Getting snuffed out without a single chance to resist was the absolute worst.
Still.
'Isn't this an opportunity?'
The thought occurred to him naturally. He didn't get out of bed. Whenever he got involved with the freckled sentry, the poor guy ended up dead. There was no need for that. He remained lying down, closed his eyes, and focused.
First, just listen. He could worry about what came next afterward.
During the day, he listened to the rolling of carts, the rattling of broken wooden pegs, and the smooth sounds of intact wheels. He distinguished the flags fluttering in the wind, the rustle of tents, and the voices of people.
While repeating the same task might be grueling for some, for Encrid, it was different.
'It's fun.'
To him, even the slightest growth brought joy. Although he wasn't pushing his body to its limits like when he learned Beast's Heart, the mental exhaustion was severe. If he focused too hard, a splitting headache would flare up, as if his skull were cracking open.
But after repeating it about thirty times, he grew accustomed to the strain. Though only by a fraction, he was living a "today" that was different from "yesterday." Encrid loved that feeling so much it made him shiver.
And so came the fifty-sixth night.
Swoosh.
The crackle of the torch burning on its stand. The sound of a night watchman, startled awake from a doze, striking his spear butt against the ground. The occasional rustle of the freckled medical tent sentry peeking inside.
Amidst those sounds, an incredibly faint noise pierced his ears.
A soft whoosh of displaced air.
'I heard it.'
It was distinctly different from before. Encrid's ears had picked up the minute discrepancy. The moment he heard it, Encrid rolled to the side without hesitation.
'I dodged it.'
His initial plan had been to dodge and then shout for help. But Encrid couldn't do that.
Swish.
He heard the sound of slicing air right behind his back. There wasn't even time to draw the dagger hidden in his shirt. He rolled forward again.
Ssh, shhk, whip.
An indescribably faint succession of noises continued to ring out. By discerning the direction through sound, Encrid managed to evade the attacks by the narrowest of margins. The tip of a blade even grazed his thigh.
'That was lucky.'
A fraction of an inch more and his thigh would have been sliced. Against this opponent, even a scratch was lethal. There was no way someone who used poison darts would leave their blades clean.
He rolled and sprang back repeatedly, dodging. Beast's Heart shone. Even as the perilous moments piled up, his heart remained cold and calm. There was no need to panic. If it was just a matter of listening and dodging...
'It's fine. I can do this.'
If he gave up on counterattacking, he could survive.
A blade slashed vertically down, aiming for his back. The opponent's intention was clear: just graze him. Encrid rolled toward the cot of Vengeance, who showed no signs of waking up despite the commotion.
As he rolled, he rammed his shoulder into the cot.
Thud.
A heavy impact reverberated through his shoulder muscles. Despite enduring the pain and ramming it with all his might, Vengeance Platoon Leader didn't wake.
'Poison dart.'
He wouldn't wake up. It had to be a poison related to paralysis or sleep.
"Stubborn bastard," the assassin muttered under his breath, perhaps growing desperate. The sound of his foot lightly kicking the ground was audible.
Encrid's breath caught in his throat, and he gasped for air. Sensing his target's ragged breathing, the assassin thrust with the knife in his right hand while throwing a poison dart with his left.
It was a near-fatal combination.
Despite his heavy breathing, Encrid reacted instantly. He dodged the knife and lifted Vengeance Platoon Leader's arm to use as a shield against the dart.
With a soft thwip, the poison dart embedded itself in Vengeance's forearm. While the assassin hesitated upon seeing his attack blocked, Encrid rolled straight toward the tent entrance.
His ragged breathing had been a ruse.
'This is the Valen-style Mercenary Sword technique: Deceptive Breath.'
It was a trick to offer an easy opening to end the fight, only to exploit the gap when the opponent reacted. The trick worked beautifully. Using the momentum of his roll, Encrid half-rose, making it look as though he was about to bolt out of the tent.
The assassin lunged forward.
That, too, was a trick.
Encrid headed for the wall instead of the entrance. Drawing the dagger from his shirt, he prepared to slash the tent wall.
'If I rip it open and escape, I win.' Or so he thought.
Riiiiip!
But the tent wall tore open before he could touch it. Beyond the sliced fabric, a voice rang out.
"I'm a bit late."
Along with the voice, a pair of glowing green eyes appeared. It was the Elf Company Commander—the man Encrid had assumed was the mastermind behind the assassination.
Reflexively, Encrid attempted a thrust. Though he only held a dagger, the technique was so deeply ingrained from countless repetitions that his body moved on its own. Pivoting on his left foot, he lunged toward his opponent in a single motion. His right arm shot forward like a thrown spear.
His eyes gleaming, the Elf Company Commander stepped inside and swept his right hand from the inside out.
Thud, swish.
With that simple gesture, the trajectory of the thrust was deflected. Simultaneously, the commander swept Encrid's pivoting foot. The world spun, and Encrid tumbled to the ground.
Afterward, the Elf Company Commander made an incomprehensible move.
Thwip-thwip!
Ignoring Encrid, he yanked his cloak forward, snapping it open to block the space in front of him.
Thud-thud-thud. Something pelted against the heavy fabric.
They were poison darts.
"Are you alright?"
As Encrid watched in a daze, he saw Krang crouching outside the tent.
"He had a guard?" Agitation was clear in the assassin's voice.
"Assassination... how sickening," the Elf Company Commander said, letting his cloak fall.
Encrid's mind raced to make sense of the situation.
'He wasn't the assassin?'
Was he on my side?
'Then what I saw when I died... he wasn't the one who killed me. He just arrived too late.'
"You don't seem to be hurt," Krang noted.
"Just startled," Encrid answered, turning around.
The moment the assassin saw the Elf Company Commander, his center of gravity shifted backward, clearly looking for an escape route. The commander didn't seem particularly inclined to catch him, either. Soon, the assassin backed away slowly, then burst through the tent entrance and fled. Even as he ran, his footsteps made almost no sound.
"Well, now." Krang entered the tent with an embarrassed smile.
The commander walked to the front of the tent, grabbed the shoulder of the seemingly unconscious freckled soldier, dragged him inside by his feet, and tossed him onto the floor. He glanced at Vengeance Platoon Leader, then turned back.
His green eyes locked onto Encrid.
A brief silence followed. After a moment, the commander tilted his head and spoke.
"You survived?"
There was a distinct hint of surprise in his voice.