Chapter 24: Three
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 24: Three
"The wind is blowing this way right now, isn't it? But look here—this short grass is flattened in the opposite direction, and it's in a circular shape. See?"
Enri stepped on the base of the tall grass. Pushing the long stalks aside, he revealed a patch of ground covered in shorter blades.
Encrid carefully examined the tracks left in the grass as Enri spoke.
"I see," Encrid replied.
Now that Enri had pointed it out, it made sense, but finding it on his own would have been a different story.
This was the Tall Grass Field.
Looking around, it was a feast of green. A bard traveling the continent had once looked upon these plains in midsummer and named them Greenpearl. It meant "pearl of green." They said the patches of tall grass looked even darker, like the depths of the deep sea.
And for good reason.
This damn field was not a pleasant place for a human to wade through. If you let your guard down, the wind-blown grass would slap against your cheeks and eyes without mercy. Insects clung to your body from all directions. Crickets and grasshoppers popped out and leaped around, and occasionally, frogs could be seen in the puddles.
Seeing the frogs reminded him of Frok, who had kicked him.
Of course, he knew the Froks claimed they were entirely different creatures from frogs. In fact, even if you killed a frog right in front of them, they wouldn't react. But if you threatened to burst their hearts, they would charge at you with fire in their eyes.
A single blow to the flank.
He had blocked it reflexively, but that single blow had sent him flying. How much time would he need to match Frok's strength? Not right now, of course. But would he be able to fight that Frok one day?
Doubt crept in. It couldn't be helped. Just because he didn't give up didn't mean he never doubted.
But then again, he had no time for doubt. He’d rather swing his sword one more time instead.
Encrid shook off the negative thoughts immediately. He had no leisure to worry about such things. Wasting mental energy on things he couldn't resolve right now was foolish.
With that thought, he focused back on Enri's explanation. This soldier, a former hunter from the steppes, was remarkably positive. No matter what kind of idiotic things the squad leader did, he just shrugged it off. He even told Encrid to bear with it.
Of course, Encrid didn't need to "bear" anything in the first place. He was already used to shrugging things off.
Even in this situation, Enri utilized his hunter's skills to keep scanning their surroundings. It was quite interesting to listen to.
"There's barely any animal droppings. Why is that?" Enri tilted his head.
"Is that a problem?" Encrid asked, pushing away a long, thick blade of grass that kept drooping over his head.
"To humans, this field might look like a useless patch of weeds, but it's actually not. For creatures that feed on this grass, it's a natural treasure trove. Usually, there are plenty of animal tracks left behind, but they're rare right now."
Few animals. Why?
Encrid, who had been listening half-heartedly, plucked a bug off his cheek. It wasn't a leech, but he could see something sharp protruding from its mouth, trying to suck his blood. Looking at the bug and the grass blocking his view, he felt a sudden urge to bring a sharp scythe and hack it all down.
"Shh. You talk too much," the scout squad leader said, looking back. He frowned as a cricket leaped past his face.
Yet, he didn't complain.
That's unexpected.
Encrid had thought the squad leader would throw a tantrum, complaining about the place since he was the one who insisted on coming here.
Though it was a feast of green, a closer look revealed many patches of grass faded to a pale brown—a sign that autumn was approaching. Come winter, this lush field would vanish as if falling asleep, leaving only traces behind. And when the weather warmed again, the tall grass would grow back, using the dead grass as nourishment.
It was a cycle repeated year after year.
Dying, and growing again.
Was it the law of nature? Then what was happening to him?
The repetition of today.
Even when he tried not to think about it, it kept drifting back into his mind. He couldn't just casually brush off the fact that his day was repeating. However, Encrid had firmly decided on his path.
I will use everything I can.
If so, this was no different. He didn't think of it as a blessing. Even if it was a curse, nothing changed.
As they waded through the grass for quite some time, someone tapped Encrid on the shoulder. It wasn't Enri. It was the soldier who had been sticking close to the squad leader.
"I know our squad leader seems really immature, but please understand. He has his reasons. He needs to achieve some merits, but they keep sending him to places like the scout unit, so he's frustrated."
What was this all of a sudden?
"You're a squad leader too, after all. And I'd appreciate it if you forgot about that 'dumbass' talk."
What bizarre timing. Despite the thought, Encrid casually accepted the apology. What good would it do to hold a grudge while on a mission together? There was no need to get worked up.
Encrid's stance remained the same. Rather than wasting mental energy on this, he would rather spend more time training.
"Sure."
"You're generous, Squad Leader." The soldier smiled. He had faded blonde hair and a tough-looking face. Which meant he was the opposite type of Big-Eyes. To put it more simply, he was ugly.
Encrid nodded and turned back around. Out of habit, he focused on his hearing. Right at that moment, an anomalous sound caught his ears.
Rustle. Hiss. Snap.
The training he had consistently practiced after learning from Sachsen finally bore fruit.
The sound is different.
The ten scouts weren't walking shoulder-to-shoulder, but they were close enough to see each other's backs. He was already familiar with the sound of them parting the tall grass. But the sound he just heard was different. It came from further away.
It was definitely the sound of someone parting the grass. And mixed in was the hissing growl of a beast and the sound of footsteps on the grass.
Humans. And there was no way they were allies.
The Tall Grass Field itself was a land of little practical value. Its only significance lay in the fact that enemy territory lay beyond this damn field. However, once you exited the Tall Grass Field, it was an open plain with nowhere to hide. Therefore, moving through here was not a very smart move.
Did that mean the enemy also had a squad leader as stupid as theirs who had sent a scout unit?
"There's someone else here besides us," Encrid said.
The tough-looking soldier in front of him blinked. "What?"
His expression asked what on earth he was talking about. He frowned and tilted his head.
"I think I heard it too," Enri chimed in from the right.
"What did you say?"
When Encrid stopped in his tracks entirely, the scout squad leader in front stepped back, approached him, and asked.
"It's the enemy."
He spoke as soon as he heard them, but recognizing the threat and reacting to it were two different things.
Thwip! Thud!
Before they could even register the presence of the enemy, the attack struck first.
"Argh!"
A short arrow pierced the head of the soldier who had become the lead as the squad leader stepped back. Encrid pinpointed the direction of the shot by sound. His eyes scanned the shape of the arrow.
A bolt.
A short arrow, perfect for close range. It wasn't meant to be shot from a longbow.
A crossbow.
The conclusion came instantly. The moment a hole was punched into the lead soldier's head, Encrid shouted.
"Get down!"
At the same time, he grabbed the squad leader by the collar and dragged him down.
"Ugh!" The squad leader let out a sharp groan.
As they pressed themselves flat against the ground, the choked groans and death rattles of others soon followed.
Front, right, left.
Even if they avoided the first volley by staying low, death was a foregone conclusion. So, what did he need to do?
He had to charge. He had to pick a direction and break through. He couldn't stop.
Encrid threw himself to one side, keeping his body so low his belly almost scraped the ground.
Rustle!
The parting grass betrayed his movement to the enemy. Naturally, a barrage of crossbow bolts flew toward him.
"Fool!" Enri cried out in shock. It looked like a suicidal move.
Thwack, thwack.
Though it was half luck, Encrid managed to dodge most of the bolts. One bolt pierced his left shoulder, but he finally had the enemy in his sights.
The enemy had cut down the tall grass to secure space to move. Amidst the foliage, he saw a figure dressed in green, holding a crossbow. The moment he saw him, Encrid drew his sword.
At any time, from any stance.
Unleashing the best possible attack. He acted exactly as he had been taught.
He kicked off the ground and closed the distance. The enemy tried to reload his crossbow. A fatal mistake. The moment he was within striking range, Encrid planted his left foot and delivered a one-handed thrust.
The tip of the arming sword in his hand pierced the air and slashed across the enemy's throat. The sharp blade sliced through the thin skin of the neck. Blood sprayed from the slash, quickly turning into a thick, gushing torrent of crimson.
The soldier clutched his severed throat and tumbled over.
Encrid didn't stop. He immediately lunged to the left.
It was too close for a bolt. A spearhead thrust toward his chest. Encrid feigned a charge, then stopped dead in his tracks, letting the enemy's spear stab empty air.
He saw the infantry short spear and the eyes of the soldier holding it—eyes filled with a strange mix of excitement and shock. The eyes of a soldier on the battlefield.
Crossbows, short spears, green-dyed clothes. It was equipment meant for a deliberate ambush.
Cramming the visual information into his mind in an instant, he took another step forward and swung horizontally. The enemy soldier with the short spear stepped back, dodging the sword's trajectory, and thrust his recovered spear straight out again.
Instead of dodging the incoming spear, Encrid pivoted on his right foot. Spinning a half-turn on the spot, he thrust his sword. Evading and striking—it was a single blow that combined offense and defense.
The sword pierced the enemy's torso. With a dull squelch, a heavy resistance vibrated through his grip. The opponent's armor was entirely thick cloth armor. With decent strength, skill, and a sharp blade, it wasn't hard to pierce.
"Gurgle..."
The enemy soldier, stabbed in the abdomen, dropped his short spear and grabbed Encrid's sword with both hands. Blood poured as his palms were sliced open.
I can't pull it out immediately.
Deliberate briefly, act quickly. The iron rule of surviving on the battlefield.
He let go of the sword gripped by the enemy and picked up the short spear dropped on the ground.
Whoosh.
Meanwhile, another enemy soldier swung his crossbow like a club. Thanks to his crouched posture, the crossbow grazed over Encrid's head. The arming cap he wore instead of a helmet caught on the edge of the crossbow and was ripped off.
As the cold air hit his bare head, his scalp felt cool. Encrid drove the short spear he had picked up straight into the exposed top of the enemy's foot.
Thud!
"Aaaargh!"
Pain brings screams. Screams bring attention. Therefore, as a means to demoralize the enemy, the scream was highly effective.
He lunged forward, grabbed the other knee—the one without the spear in it—and snapped it backward.
Crack!
"Aaaagh!"
It was a technique he had learned from the religious fanatic squad member. It was incredibly clumsy, but now was not the time to be picky.
Encrid drew the shortsword from the fallen man's waist. Straightening his back and taking a stance, he pressed the shortsword tight against the neck of the man with the spear through his foot.
"Gah!"
Before the man could resist, Encrid smoothly slid the blade in and pulled it sideways.
Squelch.
Feeling the resistance in his grip, he sliced through the flesh. A wet, bubbling sound of frothing blood echoed. The soldier with the slit throat clutched his neck and collapsed to his knees.
Encrid was completely out of breath. Crouching awkwardly behind the kneeling, dying soldier, he used the body as a shield and caught his breath.
That's one side cleared.
They had been surrounded on three sides. Now, he had opened up one of those sides. If things went south, he had a gap to escape through.
"...And you said you were a lowest-grade soldier?" Enri, who had crept up behind him at some point, asked.
"I am," Encrid replied, catching his breath.
Enri shook his head. "A lowest-grade soldier with skills like this?"
"Damn it, I'm the real idiot here." The scout squad leader blurted out the remark in the midst of all this. What on earth was he thinking?
"Get back. Don't step forward." The tough-looking soldier blocked the squad leader.
Only the four of them had survived. The rest of the scout unit was dead. Right now, there were easily over twenty enemy soldiers glaring at them.
"...What the hell?" An Azpen soldier spoke. With wide eyes, he looked at Encrid, then at the pile of dead bodies.
Three dead soldiers.
Encrid didn't care whether the enemy was shocked or not. As always, he merely sought the best move he could make in the current situation and acted on it.
The crossbows were still a threat. The enemy outnumbered them. And he had lost his sword.
"Run!"
It was time to use the Valen-style mercenary sword—the art of running away.
Without hesitation, Encrid turned and bolted.