Chapter 207: Unease and the Vanguard
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 207: Unease and the Vanguard
What did his opponents possess?
One soldier was obsessed with the thrust.
Another was skilled at gripping the middle of his spear shaft, swinging it like a club.
Yet another lacked strength behind his swings but targeted openings with sharp precision.
It was natural instinct. A matter of talent.
However, Encrid felt their training was lacking. Their endurance was poor, and their physical strength was even worse. Their reaction speed wasn't bad, but that was the extent of it.
Each soldier in the crowd charged while holding, raising, and swinging whatever they had learned and practiced. Even with the same training, everyone developed differently. Even though they all held spears, their styles were worlds apart.
Encrid took it all in.
The trembling spear tips. The shifting eyes. The habit of leading with the left foot. One man even feigned a misstep, as if he had clumsily learned the Valen-style Mercenary Sword.
Amidst them, there were also many soldiers who showed signs of relentless training.
He realized once more that if there was anything more terrifying than overwhelming talent...
Grit.
...it was an enemy who charged while gritting their teeth, even as their fingers were severed.
Their courage, mettle, and resolve were on a different level. One could glimpse a fierce spirit in their bloodshot eyes.
Encrid never let his guard down. He never treated an opponent lightly. Hiding his skills was one thing, but swinging his sword with absolute sincerity was another.
As he shifted his stance upon seeing an incoming spearhead, his opponent dropped the weapon and lunged. It looked like an attempt to overwhelm him with sheer physical force.
Recalling the battlefield where he had obtained the Beast's Heart, Encrid bent his knees and caught the man on his back. Channeling his strength, he flipped the soldier cleanly over his shoulder.
The man flew through the air, crashed shoulder-first, and rolled across the ground.
'The Beast's Heart.'
A man with a resilient heart was fiercer than one with mere talent.
Encrid reminded himself once again of how vital the Beast's Heart was to him. Not that he had ever forgotten. How could he forget when he repeated his lessons every single day? How could he forget when, trapped in 'today', he constantly reviewed and engraved his skills into his very soul, one by one?
Even after that, he continued to watch the soldiers' movements.
'A strike by twisting the body with the left foot as the axis.'
There was also a soldier who performed something similar to a one-handed sword thrust, but instead extended and released the spear, throwing it like a javelin. It was an unexpected blow—a creative attack.
Still, it wasn't threatening. To begin with, they existed in different flows of time.
He possessed the Beast's Heart, Single-Point Focus, the Sense of Evasion, and a body forged through the Isolation Technique. It was a surprising technique, but entirely avoidable. The moment he saw it, his body reacted instinctively.
The review was complete. Now, he just had to absorb their techniques and efforts into his own body.
After that, it was just a matter of time.
*
As he retreated, he looked back, but no massive plumes of black smoke rose into the sky. Though they had set fires, they had been extinguished quickly.
They hadn't dealt a devastating blow to the supply base. However, it would leave the enemy with the realization that they had been struck despite being prepared. No matter how minor the damage, the mere fact that their supply base had been set ablaze was a blow in itself.
Escaping wasn't difficult.
"Grr."
Esther walked beside him with an unusually light step. Lately, the panther rarely snuggled into his arms except when sleeping.
Looking down as he ran, Encrid saw Esther looking up at him. Her eyes were remarkably clear and large—larger than they had been before, he thought.
"Kyarr."
It was as if the panther was asking what he was staring at. If this companion were human, she would have been every bit as hot-tempered as Rem.
"It's nothing," Encrid brushed it off calmly, just as he would with Rem.
"Over there!"
As he pushed through the bushes, a shout echoed from behind. It was the group of soldiers pursuing him. Hearing the voice, Encrid roughly estimated the distance. This was the method of seeing through hearing, which he had learned from Sachsen.
After calculating the positions and distances of his pursuers based on his sharp senses, Encrid decided that shaking them off would be child's play.
He was relaxed. At the same time, a thought occurred to him.
He recalled what he had felt while identifying the enemy soldiers' habits. Someone—specifically, one of the squad leaders—had kept his head even in that chaotic situation.
"Bring the net!"
The man had shouted that, trying to capture both Esther and himself at once. He had given the order while backing away and keeping his distance. If they had been determined to kill him, it wouldn't have been impossible, but since Encrid saw no need for a slaughter, he had simply watched.
"Shoot!"
They had pulled off an impressive trick. While he was bracing for a net, arrows flew instead. At the command to shoot, the enemy soldiers surrounding him had instantly backed away.
It was a coordinated movement. Above all, their faithful obedience to that squad leader's words showed the trust they placed in him. Shouting "net" had been a feint; what they had actually prepared were arrows. Of course, Encrid wasn't caught off guard.
Instead, now that he had some breathing room, various thoughts filled his mind. He recalled a snowy day, back when they were still called the Troublemaker Squad, when they set out to deal with the Gilpin Guild.
"Just give the order. Then those who can do it will do it,"Ragna had said.
From the enemy squad leader's actions, Encrid caught a glimpse of tactical thinking, individual strategy, and squad-level combat. He realized that this was not his area of expertise.
However, he knew that something else was needed.
The current battle was the same. Defending the wall alone was not the answer. Striking the supply lines like this was nowhere near enough. This was a mere drop in the bucket.
Then, what should he do?
'If I squeeze Krais...'
...the answer will come.
Hadn't he learned that on a certain winter day? If he couldn't do it himself, he just had to find someone who could. In any case, leading an entire unit was no small task.
'I’m not cut out to be a battalion commander.'
It was a silly thought. For now, he just needed to return.
There was no time to master strategy and tactics right now. Yet, he couldn't keep fighting like this forever while holding the title of company commander.
'I can learn them one by one.'
After all, one had to know the basics to give proper orders. Only by understanding the intent behind someone's words could he properly act as a commander. A knight was one who walked ahead, but there were also times when they had to be a leader responsible for their troops.
And even if that weren't the case...
'If my allies all die under my command...'
Especially if it happened because he had neglected his studies, it was something Encrid could never tolerate.
*
"Beaten again?"
Ulf didn't fly into a blind rage. His eyes were perfectly clear. No matter what anyone said, he was not a dull man.
'Something feels off.'
It wasn't a significant blow. It wasn't as if they had only one supply route; the enemy had merely touched the supply base near the ovens. They had literally just touched it. It wasn't a fatal blow. This alone wouldn't cause the entire battlefield to falter.
However, the fact that they kept getting hit was getting on his nerves.
"And that guy?" Ulf asked.
At the commander's question, Greg answered, sweat dripping from his forehead. "We lost him."
Assault Captain Greg. Setting aside his individual martial prowess, he was a subordinate specialized in pursuing retreating enemies. Even if a battle broke out, he was not someone who would easily be pushed back.
In fact, even before the rumors about Encrid spread far and wide, Greg was a warrior famous for wiping out two colonies single-handedly. He was a warrior who would naturally be considered territory-class or higher. Among Ulf's subordinates, there were perhaps only two who were superior to Greg.
"You lost him?"
Even Greg, whose specialties were charging and striking down enemies, had lost his target.
'Marcus, you crazy bastard. What kind of trick are you pulling?'Ulf asked inwardly. He didn't know what the opponent's intention was, but there was definitely something going on.
Unease accumulated in his chest. Still, now was not the time for anger.
"It is merely a clumsy trick. Besides, the troops I brought have yet to show their true worth. If we keep tightening the noose and pressing them, there is nothing they can do!"
The practical commander of Viscount Vantra's army spoke. To Ulf, the man seemed to show displeasure at the mere mention of Encrid's name. Confidence and arrogance overlapped on his relatively young face.
Didn't his expression say it all? That he was superior, and that everything would be solved if he stepped forward.
'An inferiority complex?'
Probably not. This man was the commander of a Viscount's army. Rumor had it that he was a noble's bastard. In contrast, the opponent was a mere soldier from the streets who had built himself up.
Whatever the case, the uneasy feeling remained. Ulf hadn't just blindly dragged his troops here either. Naturally, he had prepared a few trump cards of his own.
For instance, there were the private soldiers of nobles who had joined after erasing their crests, whom he had hidden under the guise of them being just for show. Since he had hidden cards, maintaining the current state of the battlefield wouldn't be bad. Maintaining the status quo could be a path favorable to his side.
"Let's observe for a few more days. We will watch the enemy's reaction for two days, then assault the wall again."
Time was on his side; that was Ulf's judgment. He decided that this was a moment requiring composure rather than anger.
*
After spending the night like that, the morning of the fourth day on the battlefield dawned.
Ulf ate well-baked bread, fresh cabbage, jerky, and dried fruit for breakfast, washing it down with water mixed with wine. The battles so far had been nothing more than small units coming out to poke at them. Had there been any major damage to his forces? None.
Just as he had cleared away his unease with cool judgment, wiped his face, and put on his armor...
"General!"
A messenger rushed into the command tent. The eyes of all the commanders fell upon him.
"What is it?"
Greg was in a foul mood due to the target he had lost the previous day. Naturally, his tone was harsh.
"The enemy is coming out."
"……?"
Everyone just blinked in silence.
"Coming out where?" 2nd Battalion Commander Zimmer asked.
"They have come out of the territory."
"Why?"
Because it was so absurd, the question slipped past Zimmer's throat of its own accord.
"……Pardon?"
How could the messenger possibly know that?
"What are they doing out there?" Even the harsh Greg blinked in bewilderment, his voice becoming noticeably softer.
"They are forming ranks."
The messenger reported exactly what he had seen. A heavy silence swept through the command. A silent scream seemed to shake the tent.
Why are they coming out? Have they all gone mad? Forming up? They want an all-out war? Why on earth? Leaving the wall behind? Even with the wall, we held the advantage, but why abandon it? No, why come out to die? What are they relying on?
"Splendid."
The man who had been standing still like a scarecrow—the figurehead commander of the crestless troops—expressed his thoughts. "It seems they'd rather put up a fight than remain trapped."
Viscount Vantra's commander also spoke. It was hard to think of any other reason.
However, for Ulf, the unease he had forced away began to spread like a wine stain spilling across a carpet.
But retreat here? He would be a laughingstock for the rest of his life. If there were any bards around, they might nickname him the Cowardly General.
On the battlefield, there were times when one had to step forward even in a fight with no chance of victory. Yet right now, anyone could see that his side held the upper hand. And yet, retreat? This was no time to back out just because of a bad feeling.
"I will deploy the entire cavalry. Block their advance with an oblique formation. If they want an all-out clash, it is only right that we accept!" Ulf spoke with force. Whatever the opponent was aiming for, they had abandoned the advantage of the castle wall. All he had to do was crush them.
Then this uneasy feeling would vanish.
'Did they request reinforcements from somewhere?'
No, that couldn't be. They had surrounded the territory as soon as they advanced, and even if someone had slipped out to request reinforcements, who would send troops? Count Molsen? That fellow had already deployed troops with erased crests to tear apart the Border Guard alongside them.
'From the capital?'
That was impossible too. The probability of the Naurilian central army intervening? It was lower than the chance of a passing crow pecking out a knight's eyeball.
"Let's go."
At the general's word, all the commanders stood up.
"Please entrust the vanguard to me," Greg stepped forward.
"Of course."
Assault Captain Greg was a warrior whose skills would not easily be bested.
"I have reinforced the defenses on the supply lines. We won't fall for any more diversionary tactics," 2nd Battalion Commander Zimmer chimed in. He was a meticulous commander who made no mistakes.
Ulf nodded with a satisfied expression. Finally, there was the 3rd Battalion Commander who led the cavalry and scouts. His name was Rettley. Though his individual martial prowess was inferior to Greg's, his skill in maneuvering troops to exploit gaps in enemy formations was superior even to Ulf's own.
"Rettley?"
"Yes, I am ready."
And that wasn't all.
"My side is ready as well. In fact, we've been ready for a long time. I will slit the throat of that boastful bastard and put an end to the source of those clumsy rumors."
There was also the cavalry that Viscount Vantra's army had secretly prepared. Their numbers exceeded fifty.
Now, then, who held the advantage in this battle?
Ulf asked the enemy commander, Marcus, who was not even visible in the far distance.