Chapter 199: Captain, a Present's Arrived
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 199: Captain, a Present's Arrived
The difference was stark.
One side spoke of technique, form, and intent.
The other spoke of how to overwhelm through sheer, superior strength.
If one focused on the art of the sword, the other was a mass of pure instinct.
Both were vital; both were necessary.
It wasn't that Ragna didn't use instinct, nor was it that Rem ignored the forms of swordsmanship.
'Their characteristics are just distinct.'
Therefore, there was much to learn.
Moreover, a commonality existed between them—a thread visible in every movement. Whether it was their swordsmanship, their senses, their footwork, or their transitions between offense and defense.
'Precision.'
Should he call it embroidering with a needle? Or perhaps pinning a single grain of wheat with a fork?
If there was a common bond between the two, it was the terrifying precision with which they subtly adjusted their posture, hand movements, and steps, even in the heat of such chaotic combat.
"These bastards..."
The shadow of defeat had long since deepened. The Halberd Bandit's face went deathly pale.
The strength drained from his voice as he muttered. He could already see his own death approaching. He felt the gap in their skills acutely.
The same went for the five facing Rem.
Two of them had their swords shattered and were forced to draw shortswords. The one who had been throwing daggers, waiting for an opening, was already dead—his own dagger driven straight between his eyes like a grim ornament.
The corpse’s limbs had trembled at first, but it was now growing cold.
One of the remaining four, who had lunged desperately despite their comrade's death, had already lost an arm.
All of this had happened despite Ragna and Rem intentionally slowing down their attacks to show Encrid the mechanics of the fight.
Meanwhile, the female bandit—who was trying to fire arrows from a tree despite a dagger embedded in her thigh—froze every time she felt Encrid's gaze.
Encrid found her presence annoying, so he threw another dagger, pinning her forearm to the trunk. He was busy enough observing the two masters; she was a constant distraction.
"Ugh..."
While the female bandit groaned in the tree, the Halberd Bandit lunged, blood weeping from his eyes as if the capillaries had burst from sheer pressure. In his final moments, he risked everything to fling his halberd aside and tackle Ragna.
Ragna, however, abandoned the precision of the Orthodox Sword Style he had been demonstrating and showed his true specialty.
The blade of his arming sword became a flash of light, slicing diagonally through the bandit's torso. It was a Heavy Sword Style downward slash.
With the perfect harmony of strength and technique, the human body was severed like a bundle of straw.
Immediately after, Ragna shifted to the side in a flash and punched the rapier-wielding woman square in the face.
Crack!
"Gark!"
Teeth sprayed into the air.
As the woman stumbled back, clutching her shattered face, Ragna followed up with a horizontal slash.
Slash!
Her head spun into the air. Ragna didn't stop there.
As if swapping places with Rem, he abandoned the structured forms he had shown earlier and utilized a Heavy Sword Style that was rough yet precise, loaded with devastating power.
"Kyah!"
A dark-skinned female bandit, who could easily be mistaken for a man at first glance, thrust her spear forward.
Ragna dodged it with a single step. It was a feat possible only because he had perfectly read the trajectory and speed of the incoming strike.
Evading the spear, he took a bold step forward, followed by a downward strike to the crown of her head.
With a Heavy Sword Style snap strike, Ragna's sword smashed into her skull.
Thud!
Her head burst, crushed like a soft apple.
That was the end of it.
They were all dead. Having slain them, Ragna calmly flicked his sword to shake off the blood, then turned his head. Naturally, his gaze landed on Encrid.
'Did you watch closely?'
The unspoken words were palpable.
Encrid nodded.
Precision, the meaning of swordsmanship, and the power of form. It was once again the path forward—a signpost.
Encrid was deeply pleased. Above all, because it didn't end with Ragna.
"Why did you finish first?!"
Rem suddenly roared in anger, swinging his axe. Encrid had no idea why that was something to get mad about.
After being slammed down and pushed back by sheer force several times, Rem's remaining opponent had gone entirely on the defensive. The man's eyes darted around frantically. He clearly had some trick up his sleeve.
Rem abandoned his brute-force onslaught and began to swing his axe slowly, adhering strictly to form.
'Footwork, hand movements, posture.'
Then, the axe blade fell.
That strike wasn't meant to take the opponent's life. Encrid realized this, but the bandits did not.
The one holding a trident raised his weapon to block the axe. Meanwhile, the other man spun to the side and opened his mouth.
Pffft!
It was poison sand. He had been holding it in his mouth to spray it—his final trump card. But Rem stepped back as if he had already anticipated the move.
"S-shit..."
The bandit, his lips already stained blue by the toxin, let out a groan of despair.
Rem smirked.
"You're too obvious, you bastard."
The axe blade danced, slicing through the bandit's neck.
Suddenly, one of the remaining bandits stabbed his own legless comrade in the throat and cried out, "Spare me! I'll tell you everything!"
It was a pathetic, desperate end.
"Oh, really? Great. That means you're willing to endure anything, right?"
Hadn't the man said he would say anything? Rem's ears were somewhat different from those of ordinary people. Specifically, he heard exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Huh? What?"
"Where should we start? Hands? Feet?"
"...Pardon?"
"I'm going to mince you. This much at a time."
Rem held up his axe, gesturing a tiny gap with his index finger and thumb.
"...What?"
The bandit couldn't comprehend the madness.
With a smile still on his face, Rem swung his axe. Whoosh, thud. A head flew, and a headless torso collapsed.
"Just kidding. I don't have such bad taste."
You definitely look like you do, though, Encrid thought as he watched Rem.
Rem turned around and spoke. "Did you watch closely?"
That single question revealed their intentions. Both Ragna and Rem had fought slowly specifically to show their captain the way.
'These two.'
How strong would they be if they truly went all out? Just when he thought he was catching up, they seemed to pull ahead again.
When he knew nothing, he had thought they were around the level of Senior Soldiers. When he reached the level of a Senior Soldier himself, he realized their skills couldn't be measured by the soldier grading system.
And now, having surpassed the special grade and taken his first steps toward his dream...
'Strong enough to kill an Associate Knight.'
In other words, he judged their combat power to be at least on par with an Associate Knight. Although Rem had claimed he couldn't kill every single one of them without fail... Encrid wasn't so sure. When Rem said that, he looked as though he could absolutely kill them if he used other means.
In other words, he didn't entertain the thought of defeat even for a second. It wasn't conceit or arrogance, but an attitude born of facing and understanding reality.
The same went for Ragna. Audin and Sachsen were similar.
The four of them were monsters.
Encrid marveled at his luck once again.
'Four monsters.'
Four teachers. Four times as much to learn. Could it get any better?
"Hmm."
While Encrid nodded in silent admiration, Dunchabel, who had watched the entire fight, stood with her mouth agape. A string of drool dripped onto the ground. She was so shocked she didn't even realize her mouth was open.
'The Black Sword Ten-Man Squad.'
A ten-man unit that handled almost any task, they were the strongest force in the branch, second only to the Branch Leader. Those were the opponents they had just faced.
Furthermore, the guy with the halberd was a former mercenary who had made quite a name for himself. He was a mercenary who had boasted he could take on anyone below the level of an Associate Knight, and had actually enhanced his reputation by surviving a clash with an official Order Knight Squire.
'They toyed with them.'
Dunchabel had eyes. She could see Ragna's skill. It was blindingly obvious that his swordplay was extraordinary. No, it was beyond that—he had toyed with them completely.
Dunchabel realized once again that their strength was far beyond anything she could measure.
Seeing the stunned Dunchabel, Rem spoke up. "Close your mouth. It stinks."
Only then did Dunchabel shut her mouth.
Encrid walked over to the female bandit with holes in her thigh and forearm. Squirming like a bug beneath the tree, she pleaded, "I-I'm good at... things. If you spare me, I can... you know? Really."
What was this giant of a woman talking about? Did the term "female bandit" evoke some image of a delicate, pretty woman? If so, there was something wrong with one's head.
This woman was every bit a bandit. She had blackened front teeth, one of which was missing, terrifyingly rough skin, and eyes that reeked of blood. She smelled sour, as if she hadn't washed in days, and now a pungent stench of urine began to mix in.
The woman, having wet herself, stared up at Encrid.
How should he put it? Should he look for a spark of life in her eyes? Or search for some will to survive?
Not long ago, he had looked into Dunchabel's eyes and spared her. Encrid neither regretted nor dwelled on his choice back then. Regardless of right or wrong, he had acted because his heart had moved. Back then, he hadn't seen any soot in Dunchabel's eyes.
What about now?
Thrust.
He drove his sword straight into the female bandit's neck.
Her plea to be spared was no different from asking to be treated. Her injuries were already severe; she would only survive if they treated her and carried her along. The daggers had struck vital spots in both her thigh and forearm. He had thrown those daggers to restrict her movement, severing the muscles needed to move.
In other words, her begging to be spared was equivalent to saying, "Call a high priest immediately," or "Take me with you, treat me, and look after me."
The opponent was a bandit. No matter how grand the name "Black Sword" sounded, what kind of noble group could they possibly be? Hardly. Not a chance.
Originally, this bandit group had names like the Red Sword or the Blood Sword. Over a long period of causing trouble, those names solidified, and as the blood turned black, they became the Black Sword. Any bandit who had become part of their main force was bound to be a wretched bastard, regardless of gender.
Of course, he relied on his sixth sense to some extent, but this was also a world where killing and being killed was the norm. It was a world teeming with battlefields, monsters, and bandits.
Moreover, the people here were nothing short of professional killers. Even when people disparaged actual knights, they called them "killing machines," and Encrid, who was moving toward that path, saw no reason to turn away from such a derogatory term.
Encrid retrieved his sword. There was no lingering hesitation in his heart. He shook it off and turned around.
"So, is this the end of it?" Rem asked. Having warmed up a bit, the ferocity he had shown earlier had subsided.
Encrid wondered why Rem had been so fierce lately, but instead of asking, he said what needed to be said. "Their base is probably in even greater chaos."
"Is there something else going on?" Rem tilted his head, and Ragna asked.
Encrid was no fool. Even before Krais could explain everything in detail, Encrid had already picked up on the atmosphere. And why wouldn't he? Even before they left, a restless energy had hung over the barracks.
Of course, the dull-witted might have overlooked it, but even someone like Vengeance had subtly noticed. "Is something going on lately? The mood feels a bit strange, doesn't it?" he had asked.
Encrid had felt it too, and he knew the source of that feeling.
'They're not coming.'
One of the units that occasionally requested spars had completely vanished: The Border Guard.
Despite the name "Guard," they were a combat unit mobilized for special operations. Although the Border Guard Captain held the official rank of a company commander, in reality, he was the highest-ranking commander next to Battalion Commander Marcus.
'Then, the person who set them in motion is obvious.'
From this point, Krais's meticulous deductions were added.
"He's quite bold, this Marcus fellow."
Setting aside since when the Battalion Commander had become his "fellow," Krais had continued, "From what I can see, he plans to weed out the Black Sword first. While letting someone else draw their attention."
As he spoke, Krais's eyes had turned to Encrid. There was no need to ask who was playing the role of the distraction—the bait.
"Striking from behind. Brilliant. Is this man a strategist?"
It was more surprising that Krais had figured it out. Thus, Encrid judged that something even bigger was happening at the Black Sword headquarters.
And Encrid's intuition, combined with Krais's prediction, was spot on.
*
"Do you think you can survive peacefully in this land after making an enemy of the Black Sword?"
The Branch Leader in charge of this region spat blood as he spoke. Crimson blood trickled down the corners of his mouth. He felt as if his insides were burning. It wasn't just a sensation; he was experiencing physical agony. His internal organs were ruptured.
"Who cares?" the Border Guard Captain replied casually, twirling a knife in his hand.
The blade spun with a soft whoosh-whoosh, reflecting the torchlight. It was a knife so sharp it sent a chill down the spine. The Border Guard Captain knew his opponent was a slippery bastard who might have some hidden trick. There was no reason to close the distance.
"Kingdom dogs..."
Resentment dripped from the Branch Leader's words. He surely had his reasons, but the Captain didn't care.
The Border Guard Captain's knife sliced through the air.
Thud!
The thrown knife embedded itself perfectly between the Branch Leader's eyes. Struck by the blade, his body toppled backward and hit the ground with a heavy thud.
"Take everything of value and burn the rest."
This had occurred while Encrid was busy fighting on his way to the ambush site. The Border Guard Captain had led his unit under the cover of night. The Border Guard was an exceptionally skilled force for this kind of operation.
While the Black Sword was focused on the front—on that half-wit noble Vansento and on Encrid—they closed the distance as much as possible and marched straight into the Black Sword headquarters.
The bandits had established their stronghold halfway up the mountain. Since they also had to deal with monsters, their defenses were quite robust, but...
'If your forces are pathetic, there's a limit to what defensive structures can do.'
Above all, their main force was entirely absent. Not a single member of the Black Sword Ten-Man Squad was in sight.
"What about the ones who fled?"
"They know the local terrain inside out, so we lost them."
'That's not good.'
While the Captain searched the Black Sword's stronghold and the cave where they stored their treasures along the narrow path behind it, more than twenty bandits had escaped. Even though the one leading them seemed quite skilled, he had fled without hesitation.
'If it was their leader's order...'
This was proof that the Black Sword was no ordinary bandit group. Regardless, what was lost was lost. Rather than dwelling on what he couldn't catch, the Captain focused on their achievements.
"We won."
Marcus's plan had worked brilliantly.
*
One of the fleeing Black Sword members was an agent dispatched from headquarters.
'An ambush. This branch is ruined.'
As he ran, he racked his brain. What was the best way to escape this place?
'The Black Sword Ten-Man Squad.'
Traditionally, the branches mirrored the organizational structure of the headquarters. He had heard that the ten-man squad of this branch had gone out to set an ambush. The Branch Leader had deployed more force than necessary to ensure this operation wouldn't fail.
Because of that, their headquarters had been raided effortlessly.
Leaving the blazing stronghold behind, the escapee ran straight toward the ambush site. Roughly twenty bandits followed behind him. The plan was to regroup with the Black Sword Ten-Man Squad, escape, and head to the main force.
Pant, pant, gasp!
With shallow breaths laced with fear, they pushed through a rough mountain shortcut. A cleverly hidden forest path served as their escape route. After struggling through the rugged terrain and finally reaching the ambush site, what they saw was...
"This looks useful."
People rummaging through the pockets of the dead corpses. Between the black-haired, gray-haired, and blonde-haired men...
'Dunchabel?'
There was a woman whose name he recognized. She was a beastman they had hired as a mercenary.
The first to notice him emerging from the rustling bushes was the gray-haired man.
"Captain, a present's arrived."
The man who spotted him grinned widely as he spoke.