Chapter 23: The Wildebeest's Footprints
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 23: The Wildebeest's Footprints
"You need to listen for sounds that feel out of place."
The scout unit was scheduled to depart in the pale blue light of dawn, before the sun had even crested the horizon. As Encrid quietly packed his gear, Sachsen, who had been standing the final watch, spoke up casually.
"Where did that come from?" Encrid asked, wondering why he was bringing it up now.
"You asked how to avoid getting stabbed on the battlefield, didn't you?"
Encrid searched his memory.
The medical tent, the assassin’s ambush, the elven company commander, Krang, the fire—after putting an end to that whirlwind of chaos, he had returned only to find the Troublemaker Squad in the middle of a brawl. It was no wonder his mind had been elsewhere.
Only now, hearing it again, did he remember. Before the madness began—on the day of his final duel with the assassin—he had asked Sachsen a passing question.
I understand the importance of listening, but you can't constantly strain your ears just to avoid getting stabbed in the middle of a war, can you? How do you dodge an attack from behind without even looking?
Auditory training was all well and good, but it required intense concentration. Could a person really maintain that level of focus in the middle of a chaotic battlefield?
It’s too difficult.
Encrid knew because he had tried. Once a warrior became accustomed to it, they might be able to pull off near-miraculous maneuvers against multiple opponents, but one thing was certain: simply having good hearing wasn't enough.
Sachsen was a diligent man. He didn't ignore a casual question; he answered it faithfully. And Encrid was even more diligent—he never missed an opportunity to learn.
"So, you're saying I should look for anomalies?"
"It would be ideal to awaken a completely different sense, but that doesn't happen easily. For now, if you're in a grassy field, you listen to the rustling of the grass and search for a sound of a different nature."
Their scouting area was a vast grassland—a place thick with stalks that grew anywhere from calf-high to eye-level. It felt as though Sachsen was tailoring his advice to the specific terrain they were about to face.
Struck by the helpfulness of the tip, Encrid felt a wave of curiosity. "You're being surprisingly detailed today."
Sachsen stared flatly into Encrid’s eyes. His gaze seemed to say: Why ask when you already know?
When Encrid merely tilted his head in confusion, Sachsen finally sighed. "Because you're relentless, Squad Leader."
"...What?"
Where exactly had this conversation derailed? Why was he suddenly being called relentless?
Sachsen knew his squad leader's persistence. He knew the man’s borderline obsession with the sword. That was why he said it, but... Encrid didn't catch on at all.
Encrid opened his mouth to press for an explanation, then stopped himself. Did the reason even matter? The whims of the Troublemaker Squad were nothing new. Right now, there was a student, there was a teacher, and the knowledge was valuable. That was all that mattered.
Since he was heading out with the scout unit anyway, it would be the perfect time to mull this over and practice on the move. He brushed aside the unnecessary details.
"How do I distinguish between the different types of sounds?"
Encrid instantly wiped away his confusion and got straight to the point. Sachsen’s gaze turned peculiar as he watched him, as if he were looking at a three-headed dragon.
"What is it?"
"It's nothing."
The explanation continued—what constituted an anomalous sound and how to properly utilize one's hearing. It was brilliant. This was the pure joy of learning. Encrid set off in an exceptionally good mood.
"I see. So that's how it's done."
Sachsen watched Encrid with that same strange look. Unaware of the gaze, Encrid turned to leave.
"Well, I'm off."
He walked toward the edge of the camp to join the scout unit. Watching his retreating back, Sachsen thought to himself: It makes no sense.
Recently, he had seen the squad leader straining his ears to track footsteps. The man had reacted to them from an incredibly long distance; his auditory range was exceptionally wide. Anyone else might have missed it, but Sachsen’s eyes were not so easily deceived.
It was just... bizarre.
Sachsen compared Encrid to every training method he knew. Training one's ears meant constantly listening to and distinguishing various sounds until, over time, you naturally learned to identify their nature.
Yet, what about the squad leader?
His raw hearing is top-tier, but his ability to distinguish sounds is that of a complete novice.
It was as if he had intensively trained only the physical act of hearing over a very short, impossible period. Was such a thing even possible through normal means? Perhaps if one had dozens of spare lives to throw away, they could train in such a reckless manner.
He's a strange one.
The squad leader was a truly bizarre man. Regardless, that curiosity had prompted Sachsen to share a piece of his knowledge. And the squad leader would undoubtedly absorb it in no time. After all, developing the raw hearing was the hard part; classifying the sounds was merely secondary.
Having finished his watch, Sachsen stepped into the barracks, only to find Rem staring at him with half-lidded eyes. Rem was propped up on one elbow, a smirk plastered across his face. It was an incredibly irritating sight.
"Wipe that obnoxious look off your face," Sachsen offered as a morning greeting.
Rem chuckled softly. "Have you fallen for the squad leader's charms too? You look at him and just can't help but want to teach him, right?"
"It's a fair trade. I owed him a favor, and I'll extract equal value from him later."
Sachsen of Equivalent Exchange—that was his nickname within the unit. Yet, even as he said it, Sachsen knew the truth. His advice hadn't been given to secure a future favor. It had been a purely impulsive decision.
Was it because Encrid’s recent, striking performance on the battlefield had left such a deep impression? Sachsen chose not to overthink it. Sometimes, acting on a whim wasn't a bad thing.
"Bullshit, you bastard. Stop acting so shy," Rem cackled, then lay back down and closed his eyes. He pulled his blanket up to his chin, and as if instantly lulled by the warmth, his breathing soon fell into a steady rhythm.
Sometimes, Sachsen wondered what gave this crazy barbarian the confidence to act so recklessly.
"Go get some sleep," Rem spoke, still pretending to be asleep. "Try to sneak up on me while I'm down, and I'll split your skull open."
Sachsen ignored him and went to his own bed. Engaging with Rem only invited a pointless, endless argument.
"Tsk, bastard never answers," Rem grumbled to himself, despite being the one who had started it.
*
The scout unit, having set out in the early hours of the morning, was dysfunctional from the very beginning.
"If we run into those Azpen bastards, we split their skulls. Got it?"
Those were the first words from the scout squad leader in charge of their small detachment. For a split second, Encrid almost blurted out, What exactly do you think scouting is? But the squad leader spoke first.
"Troublemaker Squad Leader, you're just a regular soldier right now. If you're planning to disobey my orders, speak up now and we can settle it with our blades. Unlike some people, I didn't kiss ass to get my rank, so I'm more than confident."
His tone was incredibly hostile. Encrid didn't get angry; he wasn't even particularly offended. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard this kind of "praise" countless times before. The petty insults of those who didn't know him meant nothing. Besides, he figured it was better to quietly complete the patrol, practice his new skills, and head back rather than stir up trouble.
"Just bear with him, even if he's annoying. He's always been a bit of a show-off," another soldier whispered, leaning in close. He was an older man with a gruff voice.
"I don't care," Encrid replied.
"Glad to hear it." The soldier gave a faint, good-natured smile, making sure the squad leader wasn't looking. He seemed like a decent fellow.
"Alright, move out!"
Ten men in total—the scout and patrol unit was officially on the move.
Being a scout unit didn't necessarily mean sneaking deep into enemy territory to spy. This particular plain was a vast grassland known across the continent as Greenpearl. To the east lay a few gentle ridges rolling over low hills, but for the most part, the terrain was wide open. To the west flowed the Pen-Hanil River, the lifeblood of Naurilia, a massive waterway shared with their enemy, the Azpen Principality.
Due to these features, launching a surprise attack on this plain was virtually impossible. The purpose of a scout unit here was to survey the borders, check for enemy forces moving under the cover of day or night, and watch for signs of cavalry.
Naturally, scouting was dangerous. One never knew when they might run into an enemy patrol, and skirmishes between scouts often escalated into full-scale battles. However, such clashes were supposed to be rare.
"Let's go show them the greatness of Naurilian infantry!"
To Encrid, the young squad leader was nothing more than a fool drunk on his own self-importance. Perhaps he was the bastard son of a noble or had a powerful backer in command. He looked barely twenty. For a regular Naurilian soldier, achieving the rank of squad leader at that age was an exceptionally rapid promotion.
It seemed the actual duties of a scout had completely slipped the mind of this boy. Yet, some of the soldiers eagerly chimed in.
"Of course, sir! With your skills, a few enemies won't stand a chance."
"Show us that raw strength that took down five mercenaries!"
They're kissing his ass so hard it's going to fall off.
It was painfully obvious how this situation had come about. The regular scouts must have suffered frequent injuries, leaving them short-handed. That was why Encrid and these other misfits had been dragged into this.
Still, this was ridiculous. These guys were completely sub-par. But Encrid figured it shouldn't be a problem; the scout unit's route was already fixed, a circular patrol centered around their camp. As long as the squad leader didn't do anything catastrophically stupid, they would be fine.
"These are wildebeest footprints." The squad leader stopped, pointing at animal tracks on the ground. The wildebeest was an ox-like beast that roamed the plains in massive herds. "If we track these, we'll feast tonight. Let's have ourselves a barbecue, boys!"
...Track a herd of wildebeests? What was even more absurd was that those footprints didn't belong to a wildebeest at all. They were the tracks of a gazelle.
"Yeah, right," the good-natured soldier walking behind Encrid muttered. He let out a dry chuckle, staring at the back of the squad leader's head in disbelief.
Throughout the first day, the scout unit marched forward, wandering aimlessly in search of non-existent wildebeests. Naturally, no wild animal was foolish enough to let itself be caught by a group of armed men stomping around and shouting.
"Damn it," the squad leader threw a petty tantrum when they found nothing.
If they actually had caught a wildebeest, would that idiot really have tried to light a campfire? If so, it would have been a spectacle—a scout unit lighting a fire in the middle of a mission, throwing stealth out the window. They might as well have shouted their location to the entire plains.
Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that they hadn't caught anything. Before sunset, they found a spot with a low hill and four tall trees to set up camp.
"Where are you from, Troublemaker Squad Leader?" It was the soldier from earlier—the one who had looked at their leader with quiet contempt.
"Border Guard."
"A career soldier?"
Encrid nodded. The Border Guard was a fortress territory guarding the frontier. It was a military hub packed with training facilities.
"I'm from a mountain village, so I know a thing or two about hunting," the soldier said. "I nearly lost my mind when he called those tracks wildebeest footprints. They were clearly from a gazelle."
Encrid had felt the exact same way. A mutual understanding quickly formed. The hunter-turned-soldier's name was Enri. He was easygoing, but he clearly held their current leader in deep contempt.
"Tomorrow, I'll show you something interesting. The plains might look like a pathless wild, but animals actually have their own distinct trails."
After chatting a bit more, Enri drifted off to sleep. Taking the third watch of the night, Encrid mulled over Sachsen's advice. Though he didn't draw his sword, he traced the motions in the air, reinforcing the lessons in his mind. The sparring sessions he'd had with Ragna and Rem before departing proved highly beneficial.
He told me to be able to thrust from any stance.
Those were Rem's words. Encrid had been training to achieve exactly that, and Rem had even given him a tip: strengthen the lower body. Scouts did a lot of walking, and unless one was cavalry, there was no avoiding it.
Walking is good practice too.
Surviving solely on jerky left his stomach feeling empty, but Encrid had no time to dwell on minor discomforts. His mind was consumed by his training, swordsmanship, Sachsen's auditory techniques, and the hunting tricks Enri had promised to teach him. He took pure, unadulterated joy in mastering new skills.
I'll spar them again when I get back.
Throughout his watch, Encrid practiced detecting anomalies in the ambient sounds. Soon, he woke the next sentry and went to sleep.
As dawn broke on the second day, the scout unit set out once more. In the morning, he received a brief lesson from Enri on how to spot animal trails, and spent the march listening to the rustle of footsteps brushing against the grass.
There's so much to learn.
Encrid genuinely felt a sense of fulfillment. The hunting lore Enri shared was fascinating; in his past lives, he had never had the luxury to accumulate this kind of practical knowledge.
"This way."
The scout squad leader took the lead, heading toward a field overgrown with tall weeds. It was one of the designated checkpoints they were assigned to inspect. Of course, the squad leader quickly shattered Encrid's expectations.
"We're going to push straight through this field and hunt down the enemy scouts. What do you think?"
Is this bastard completely out of his mind?
Encrid barely managed to swallow the urge to say it out loud. How were they supposed to navigate through a field of tall weeds? And what guarantee did they have of finding the enemy by blindly charging forward? Their task was to check for ambushes and report activity, not play hero.
"Don't butt in," one of the squad leader's sycophants barked when Encrid tried to suggest a different path. "Just because you're a squad leader doesn't mean you're on his level."
Encrid didn't feel angry. He simply wondered if he should let this slide.
His hesitation was brief. He decided to let them do as they pleased. If things went south and he ended up dying... he would just figure it out in his next loop. And if they survived? They would just waste their time on a wild goose chase and head back.
Either way, he had nothing to lose.