Chapter 185: Did You Beat Them Up?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 185: Did You Beat Them Up?
The hierarchy of the cult was structured much like a traditional temple.
It began with the Pope, followed by Cardinals, Bishops, Priests, and Believers. Occasionally, Monks were positioned between the Priests and Believers. Generally, the title "High Priest" referred to anyone holding the rank of Bishop or higher.
The blonde man was one such Bishop.
He maintained a separate public identity, and his status was far from lowly. Among the many seeds the cult had sown, he was a Bishop who had grown into an exceptionally sturdy tree.
"Are you telling me we failed because of a single platoon leader?"
"Yes, sir."
At the low-ranking priest’s confirmation, the Bishop’s brow furrowed, his handsome features twisting into a grimace.
What nonsense.
A Gnoll colony collapsing because of one platoon leader?
"Was it an Order Knight? Did one step in and interfere?"
"No, sir."
"No, that wouldn't make sense anyway."
The Bishop shook his head at his own question. Did the Kingdom of Naurilia currently have the luxury of dispatching Order Knights or extra troops to this region?
Not a chance.
They were drowning in a mountain of problems. In fact, there were plenty of disasters they hadn't even begun to address. Bandits known as the Black Sword were running rampant across the kingdom’s territories. To the west, a plundering territory formed by a gathering of pioneers was gaining strength. To the east, a nation ruled by a "human butcher" provoked them at every turn.
If that were all, they might have been lucky, but other crises were overflowing from every direction like a bursting flood.
For instance, the power struggle between the nobles and the royalty.
Ultimately, everything could be blamed on the rift between the Royalists and the Noble Faction. The kingdom’s power had been fractured. Because of that, other vultures were circling, looking for scraps.
They seemed to have dealt a blow to Azpen, who had been picking fights from the north, but...
Wasn't that overextending?
That was the Bishop’s assessment. They had pulled troops stationed in the south and west to strike Azpen. It had been unavoidable; if they had left it alone, the Greenpearl Plains to the north would have been completely lost.
However, while the Bishop had expected them to barely hold the line, Naurilia had achieved a crushing victory. Still, it was only because they had poured every ounce of strength into stopping Azpen.
With their forces stretched thin, the plundering territory to the west was stealthily making its move. And hadn't the butcher’s kingdom to the southeast also taken a giant stride forward? Would the Black Sword Bandits just stand by and watch?
On top of that, unable to stop the surge of monsters in the south, a dark shadow was said to hang over the southern regions. He had heard that refugees were fleeing in endless lines.
Did it really matter that Azpen had retreated?
What about the conflict between the remaining territories?
Once Azpen withdrew, what was left? Greenpearl remained. Furthermore, the trade routes opening in all directions remained. Afterward, everyone would desperately scramble to snatch a piece of the pie, eyeing the size of each other's bread. The kingdom, which was supposed to mediate, was completely drained of strength. It wasn't even in a position to stop them.
It’s a miracle it hasn't collapsed yet.
It was precisely because the kingdom was in this state that the Bishop had come here. There were plenty of gaps, plenty to devour, and plenty of rot. How could anyone turn away from such a tempting piece of meat?
The Demon Realm Holy Land Cult had not established itself here for no reason. And what of the supplies and capital poured into this place so far? This region was more than capable of becoming a new Demon Realm. It could become a Holy Land.
It was frustrating that one of those preparations had been ruined.
And all because of a mere platoon leader?
How many Krona had been spent preparing this? It wasn't just a matter of a few gold coins, not to mention the armaments they had provided the Gnolls.
The Krona invested by the cult had ended up entirely in the hands of the pioneer village. As a reward, Encrid had received a portion of that monetary compensation. To be precise, Krais had stepped in to act as a broker to secure it.
Of course, the Bishop had no way of knowing that. He was simply displeased.
What should he do? He contemplated for a brief moment.
He was just a platoon leader, after all. Had he been lucky?
In truth, no one on their side had witnessed Encrid’s battle. A few monsters had survived, but it wasn't as if Gnolls could speak to pass on a report.
It must have been luck. Thinking about it, it made sense. The wall was sturdy, the believer who had infiltrated first must have been caught by chance, and then, while trying to clean up the mess, the priest’s identity was exposed. And by chance, they had prepared for a siege beforehand.
...But weren't there too many coincidences?
The man must have some level of skill. Still, the conclusion was luck. In that case...
Just because he was lucky once, will that luck last forever?
Surely not.
"Send a believer skilled in assassination."
If there was a problem, he just had to excise it. That was how the Bishop handled things. Of course, he would never end up hearing any news of Encrid’s assassination. The Bishop didn't even bother to listen for such news. He was already preparing for what came next.
If he were a member of the kingdom, what would be the biggest problem? It wouldn't be the Black Sword, the surge of monsters, or the surrounding nations acting like packs of wolves.
Their biggest problem would be the cultists. And among those they called heretics, he was the backbone of this entire region.
The Bishop prepared for the next step, quickly forgetting Encrid’s existence. Occasionally, people who did such remarkable things appeared. Sometimes they were mere soldiers, but it was always temporary.
Surviving among a thousand monsters? Let’s say he had heaven’s luck. Then, what about next time? What would he do when a similar crisis arose? He was a man destined to die anyway.
Therefore, he ignored him.
*
The Border Guard was the same as ever. Nothing had changed.
"You've returned, sir?"
Actually, there was one thing that had changed: their attitude.
The soldiers’ demeanor toward Encrid had completely transformed. A soldier on duty at the outer gate gave him a sharp salute.
Nod.
As Encrid gave a casual nod, a familiar face came into view.
"Did you come out to greet me?"
It was the Elf Company Commander. In a casual tone, she doubled down on Encrid’s joke.
"Of course I had to come, since my husband is returning. My fiancé mustn't come back with any part of him cut off. Especially if a particularly important part gets severed—wouldn't I have to give up one of the greatest pleasures of my future life?"
Isn't that joke a bit too dirty? While Encrid was thinking that, the Elf Company Commander continued without a trace of a smile.
"If you don't have arms, you can't hold me. But seeing as both of your arms are perfectly intact, you seem fine."
As she spoke, the Elf’s gaze swept over Encrid’s entire body. Did something change about him?
An Elf’s senses were sharp.
"I need to go to the Battalion Commander to report."
"Go on."
At Encrid’s words, the Elf nodded and went on her way. She seemed to be heading out on some business.
So, she hadn't actually come to greet him. It was just a coincidence. Encrid saluted the departing Elf and turned around. Seeing her walk away so briskly, she definitely had somewhere to be.
As expected, a coincidence.
There was no way she had actually come out to greet him. She wasn't someone with nothing to do; there was no reason for her to do that.
Once they entered the territory, Esther slipped away.
"Do I have to go too?"
"No."
He dismissed Krais as well, leaving only Finn to accompany him. Finn fell silent, lost in thought, before suddenly speaking up. Her tone carried a strange intensity.
"I've decided."
"...What?"
"I'm giving up on trying to get you into bed."
...Were you still aiming for that?
"Instead, I'm going to target Audin."
Finn’s eyes sparkled. Encrid shook his head inwardly. Setting himself aside... Audin?
That man wasn't just deeply religious; he literally channeled Divine Power. What did that imply? It meant he was a priest. Of course, being a priest didn't mean one couldn't enter Holy Matrimony or take a woman to bed, but...
That Audin?
As if that big bear of a man would ever take a woman to bed. Encrid merely nodded in silence.
"The charming platoon leader is out of my league."
Finn spat out her nonsense and briskly walked away.
"Weren't you coming with me to report?"
Apparently not. Left alone, Encrid headed toward Marcus’s office. He stepped inside and saluted. Marcus watched him silently before speaking.
"I've already received word. However, conflicting reports have arrived."
Conflicting reports?
"I do not understand what you mean, sir."
If he didn't know, he didn't know. Making wild guesses would only lead to useless chatter. He had heard that the pioneer village was sending word.
Marcus rested his chin on his hand.
"The pioneer village claims they will name their wall after you, and that you slaughtered a thousand Gnolls, among other things."
Were they really going to name the wall after him? He had wondered if they would actually do such a thing officially, but the Village Chief, Deutsch Fullman, and even that artisan fellow had been dead serious. Seeing it mentioned in an official report made it certain.
They've all gone mad.
"And the other report is from the commander of Viscount Vantra’s army. He claims you killed about fifty Gnolls and warns me to caution you against claiming exaggerated achievements. Now, let me ask our platoon leader: which is the truth?"
Encrid answered immediately.
"You may believe whichever you wish to believe, sir."
Even if he told Marcus what to believe, would he actually believe it? Did his words, his tongue, carry such weight? His opponent was the Battalion Commander, the commander representing the territory. He would already know the answer.
Above all, Marcus’s eyes were already speaking. Though his face looked haggard and showed signs of fatigue, his eyes were smiling.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, sir."
Marcus stared intently at Encrid, who answered so calmly. Where on earth had a fellow like this popped up from?
"Still a knight?"
"Yes."
"I see."
What was he trying to say?
"I spotted cultists."
Regardless, he had to report the core details. The pioneer village wasn't that far from the Border Guard, and the appearance of cultists was a sensitive issue.
"Bastards."
After stating his view, Marcus took his hand off his chin and took a sip of tea. The cold tea slid down his throat.
A thousand Gnolls.
He hadn't slain them all at once, by himself. Wouldn't that be a difficult feat even for an Associate Knight? While he couldn't be sure, that was Marcus’s assessment. Regardless, Encrid’s prowess was something that could not be ignored. He had let the words of Viscount Vantra’s forces slide right out of his other ear anyway.
Marcus knew Encrid. Of course, the claim that he had literally slaughtered a large colony was hard to believe. But he must have achieved a feat close to it. Had Marcus witnessed it himself, he might not have thought this way, but in truth, it was an unbelievable story for anyone.
What Encrid had done was just that incredible. This wasn't because the commander of Viscount Vantra’s forces was an idiot—though the fellow was indeed half an idiot—but because the details were truly hard to believe. It was more reasonable to assume that the villagers, drunk on the joy of surviving a life-or-death crisis, had exaggerated.
After sorting through his thoughts, Marcus spoke.
"Do you love this territory?"
"I don't dislike it."
"Do you have a lover?"
"No."
"By any chance...?"
"I like women."
Conversations with quick-witted people were comfortable and easy. Marcus nodded.
"As of this moment, the Independent Platoon is promoted to a company. You are now a Company Commander."
"...Is that right?"
He had just returned from handling an external mission. If the achievements of that task were properly recognized, it wouldn't be a small matter. That was true. But hadn't Marcus just said there were conflicting reports? And yet, a Company Commander?
"My platoon members don't even number ten."
"It's a company now."
What kind of company had fewer than ten soldiers?
"Does that make any sense, sir?"
"I am the person in charge of this territory. If I say so, it makes sense."
That sounds like a stretch.
"Are you cursing your superior with your eyes?"
"No, sir."
Still sounds like a stretch.
"It's not a stretch."
It was the Battalion Commander speaking. What could he do? Encrid could only nod. He saluted, concluded his report, and turned around.
"I would like it if you loved this territory."
"I will try, sir."
It was the textbook response of a soldier. Having said that, he turned and headed back to his original barracks.
"You're back?"
How should he put this? It felt like returning home. Rem was watching him, holding his axe as always. The subtle expectation in his eyes urged Encrid forward. Those eyes wouldn't tolerate even a brief moment of rest.
Then again, when had he ever rested immediately upon arrival? The journey back had been peaceful. He had rested plenty on the way.
Encrid’s gaze shifted to Rem’s face. The scratch on Rem’s face from before he left had vanished without a trace. As his goal came back to mind...
"Sparring?"
The word slipped from Encrid’s mouth naturally, accompanied by the pounding of his heart. The corners of Rem’s mouth curled upward. He grinned broadly.
"Did you get any better? I heard you cut down hundreds of monsters. Heard you were flying around out there. Let’s see. Let’s see how much fun you had."
Rem spoke, gripping his axe with both hands and taking a step forward.
Encrid felt a strange sensation. Before, he hadn't analyzed what that single step meant before a fight. No, he hadn't been able to. But now, he knew.
Right foot half a step forward; the first axe strike would come from the left. The center of gravity, the setup for the next move—Rem displayed all of it naturally. He didn't even try to hide his intentions.
Whether he knew Encrid was reading him or not, Rem narrowed his eyes and stared at him.
"Something's a bit strange here."
Encrid realized they weren't standing in front of the usual barracks. Before Rem could reply, Ragna and the rest of the group emerged one by one. Not a single other soldier was in sight. In fact, come to think of it, a training ground of sorts had been built right in front of the barracks. The area had been cleared out, and a low fence had been erected.
"I heard the Company Commander built a private training ground just for us," said Krais, who had arrived beforehand. Quick-witted as always, he had read Encrid’s thoughts.
Why go through the trouble?
"I taught those guys a lesson, and the Company Commander said we were disrupting the other soldiers' training," Rem said, pointing his thumb behind him without losing an ounce of his momentum. His tone was casual, as if it were no big deal.
"He said that even for barbarians, killing allies inside the barracks is forbidden, so we should do it here," Ragna added from behind him.
"I think it's because they're too loud. These guys make such a racket. Not me, of course," Sachsen chimed in, gesturing toward the others.
"Haha. I am sure it is simply because seeing the brothers get along so joyfully made him worry that the other soldier brothers might want to join in the fun," Audin said.
Seeing how eagerly everyone spoke up, they all seemed to be welcoming him back. The actual reason for the training ground could never be what they claimed. In other words, it was a joke. From starting as a Troublemaker Squad to becoming a mad platoon, it was the kind of joke they could toss around now that they knew each other.
"Did you beat them up?"
At Encrid’s question, Rem furrowed his brow.
"Do I look like someone who goes around beating people up just because I'm bored?"
"...You're the first person to leave me speechless like this recently, Rem."
You beat them up every single day, so what are you talking about?
Rem felt genuinely aggrieved. It wasn't like that this time. He hadn't beaten them up. He had just cleared away the obstacles around him while focusing on his sparring.
"Do you really believe I beat them up?" Rem glared.
"Yeah."
"Fuck, you're spot on."
Rem smirked. That was the signal. Following the smirk, power surged into the balls of his feet. The direction of his center of gravity was the direction of his attack.
Swordsmanship was a collection of techniques designed to kill. That was the path he had honed and polished.
Clang!
Axe met sword. The roar of clashing iron echoed. Though it was a blunt, unsharpened blade, its sturdiness surpassed any sword he had held before. Though it had been called a Magic Sword, now it was just a sturdy sword—roughly on par with a famous blade.
Encrid had quickly familiarized himself with his new weapon. And why? To clash with this very axe the moment he returned.
As sword and axe crossed, a battle of wits ensued. On top of that, Encrid’s blade, backed by reflexes that had clearly transformed, bent like a snake. It was one of the secret techniques of swordsmanship utilizing a snap of the wrist.
Clink-clink-clink.
As the blade deflected off the axe head and curved upward, Rem threw his head back. At the same time, Rem raised the edge of his axe and swung it in a short, snapping strike. Encrid also tilted his head to the side.
Slash. Slash.
Just like that, shallow cuts appeared on both of their cheeks. Rem narrowed his eyes and snorted. He was surprised, but right now, he prioritized something else over shock: fighting spirit and momentum.
Excited, Rem’s eyes gleamed. Soon, he stuck out his tongue, licked a drop of blood trickling down the corner of his mouth, and spoke.
"Fuck, you surprised me."
His words were entirely sincere.
And the eyes of everyone watching widened. Encrid and Rem exchanged blows with sword and axe, and Encrid was not easily pushed back.
It was a rate of growth that left them no choice but to be astonished. No, it was a transformation grand enough to shock heaven and earth.
That talentless bastard returned changed like this?
The eyes of everyone present screamed those very words.