Chapter 260: On How to Handle Idiots (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 260: On How to Handle Idiots (5)
This was a conversation they had held before leaving Martai.
"You trick them, then you beat them."
Whether it was the Black Sword or that bastard priest, Krais held firm convictions when it came to handling idiots.
Encrid had agreed with him.
"Let's do that."
"Yessir!"
Along with his cheerful reply, Big-Eyes had prepared a great deal.
And this was the result.
"Hurry! Hurry up and kill them all!" shouted the Pot-Bellied Priest, the man who had been secretly leaking the movements of Encrid’s group until now.
Where had a man like him even obtained information on Encrid’s group?
Well, he was just that stupid.
The priest had put his full faith in a beggar child who readily sold him information for a few copper coins. He had believed it far too easily—truly, far too easily.
Krais had also anticipated the Black Sword's ambush. To be precise, he had preemptively selected and occupied the best spots for ambushes along their route, all while keeping an eye on the sky to gauge the weather.
Snow would have been ideal, but even a heavily overcast day sufficed. Through a series of meticulous calculations, he had intentionally made it easy for the Black Sword to launch their attack.
They really do seem stupid, though.
Krais doubted whether the Black Sword was actually a formidable bandit group. Would guys like that really do this? Sending just a few mercenaries and hoping our group would die?
Of course, this was largely due to a lack of information. Swallow Blade hadn't survived to deliver a report, and it was difficult to gauge the strength of Encrid’s group solely through rumors. In particular, the enemy had yet to grasp the true capabilities of those under Encrid’s command.
Krais watched as Rem lightly kicked off the ground and charged.
In an instant, Rem vanished.
Boom!
The ground where he had stood tore open, letting out a violent shriek. Simultaneously, a single line was drawn through the air, slicing through the neck of a mace-wielding mercenary.
"Damn, this cuts incredibly well!"
Rem’s voice echoed a moment later. Krais’s eyes couldn't fully track the barbarian’s movements, but he could deduce everything from the result. His sharp intellect made it possible.
The mace swung down, but before it could land, Rem sliced his neck.
It happened because Rem’s hands and feet were several times faster than the swing of a heavy mace. The reason Rem remarked on the axe's edge was that the mercenary had been wearing a full-face helmet—and Rem had sliced right through the steel and the man beneath it.
Blood sprayed over the thin layer of white snow, the heat of the crimson spray melting the frost. Over the gore, fresh flakes began to flutter down once more.
Encrid surveyed the battlefield. While Krais deduced the process by looking at the results, Encrid saw every detail with perfect clarity.
"Don't you dare surrender!" Rem roared, charging in with sheer excitement. Beside him, Dunchabel and Teresa moved as well.
One of the mercenaries seemed to recognize Dunchabel, offering a "warm" greeting.
"You bitch! You traitorous whore!" he shouted, thrusting a long spear toward her. His skill wasn't half bad—at the very least, he was better than the Dunchabel of the past.
But that was all he had going for him. Dunchabel was no longer the foolish beastman she once was.
Her body swayed fluidly. For a split second, afterimages lingered as if she had multiplied into three. It was a feat of pure physical prowess—afterimages created by rapidly kicking off the ground to the left and right.
Her scimitar flashed, cutting through the falling snow and the air to reach the opponent’s head. Every single moment appeared segmented in Encrid’s eyes, a result of his heightened senses.
Thwack!
The scimitar shattered the skull and pulled back out.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say?" Dunchabel replied only after the man was dead.
She’s starting to resemble Rem more and more.
Encrid was slightly worried about that influence, but he let it be. She was walking her own path, finding her own way. It wasn't his place to criticize her growth.
While he watched with his arms crossed, a few more mercenaries rushed in. Teresa intercepted two of them.
"Fuck! Where did a monster like this pop out from?!" an enemy mercenary screamed. She was a lanky woman who had been throwing daggers from the periphery.
Teresa blocked every projectile with her shield. One dagger appeared to be enchanted, curving in midair, but Teresa simply twisted her body and caught it on her pauldron.
Utilizing her armor as an extension of her defense was Teresa’s specialty. Pressuring with her shield and beating her opponents to death with her thick-bladed sword was her forte.
And that was exactly what she did.
"Argh!"
When she struck the side of her sword against the head of the female mercenary—who had survived this long solely on her agility—gray matter and blood leaked from the fractured skull inside the helmet. A crushed eyeball burst, spilling clear fluid that mingled with the gore.
"I am Teresa the Wanderer. Step up if you want to die."
She spoke with a cold finality. With those few words, several men visibly froze. No matter how experienced a mercenary was, feeling terror in the face of such overwhelming violence was only natural.
The mercenaries were wiped out in no time.
By the time the battle should have truly begun on the ridge above, the men there had already witnessed the slaughter of their leaders. Naturally, their will to fight evaporated instantly.
"Hey, surrender. The territory is short on hands lately. If you verify your identity and serve faithfully, we’ll restore your status within two years," Torres coaxed them.
They were a crowd that moved for gold, anyway. Since the group had resolved to clear out monsters and demonic beasts, taking these men as prisoners to use as meat shields would be highly beneficial. They could filter out the decent ones and integrate them later. It was a proposal born of quick calculation.
"W-we surrender," one soldier said, lowering his wooden longbow.
In the end, not a single soldier on the hill fired an arrow.
Seeing the mercenaries slaughtered, the Pot-Bellied Priest immediately bolted. He moved his legs more desperately than he ever had in his life, his massive frame moving with surprising speed.
But a thick, muscular arm blocked his path.
"Urgh!"
Startled, the priest fell flat on his backside. The impact rattled his spine all the way to his skull. He propped himself up on the dirt and looked up. Standing over him was a soldier built like a bear.
This guy.
Although Zimmer had claimed to be the one who hit him back in the territory, the priest had his own informants. They had told him the truth: the one who had actually struck him was this very man.
But because Zimmer had glared and threatened him, he hadn't dared to retaliate. He had felt deeply wronged. Afterward, those he believed to be his people had egged him on to seek revenge.
Of course, all of this was Krais’s handiwork. Since the priest was an utter fool whose character wasn't even worth discussing, Krais had hired a few thugs to manipulate him. It was a scheme designed to lure the Pot-Bellied Priest all the way out here.
Why? There was only one reason: it was far better to eliminate a potential threat than to leave it be. It didn't matter how corrupt the priest was; his status as a priest was the real issue. The best course of action was to kill him and bury him where no one would look.
That was why they had lured him into this trap. If the best way to deal with an idiot was to ignore them, the next best way was to bury them. From the moment Audin had first slapped the priest, Krais had envisioned this exact scenario.
Besides, the Black Sword and a greedy priest—weren't they a perfect match? It was almost disappointing how easily it had gone. The opponent was simply too much of an idiot.
"The Lord of Radiance said that our duty is to illuminate and illuminate again. Have you done so?" Audin asked.
The Pot-Bellied Priest babbled incoherently. "O-Of course I did! I-I-I did!"
Terrified out of his wits, his voice trembled and his tongue tied.
"You should have brought light to the world, not lusted after krona," Audin murmured.
The priest tried to protest, wanting to claim he had helped unfortunate children and raised orphans in his temple. But Audin already knew the truth through Krais. This priest lusted after krona and women. He was a predator who had taken several of those orphaned girls as his mistresses.
Splat.
Audin raised his palm and brought it down. The strike to the crown of the head forced the priest’s eyeballs and tongue to burst forward. Blood gushed from every orifice, including his ears.
Audin believed in God, and because of that belief, he loathed those who committed heinous acts under the guise of faith. In the past, filled with doubt, there were those he had failed to punish. He remembered turning his back on them.
I can no longer do that. No, I will not.
For there was someone by his side who constantly overcame his limits and forged ahead. He, too, could no longer turn away from truth, life, conviction, and faith.
I will live, Father.
Without giving up on the life permitted by God.
Under the Lord’s permission, I will live by striking down my enemies. And thus, I shall also punish those who have shattered my faith.
It would not be an easy task, and if things went awry, it would end in a dog’s death. But he would not die like that. Every day was a day of learning. Aside from formal teachings, Audin was learning from Encrid and Krais.
"Beholding the lantern you have shown, I too shall kindle the light."
Audin prayed toward his captain, even though no one was listening. It was a prayer directed not to a god, but to a human. It was rather awkward, yet it felt entirely natural.
Meanwhile, Encrid stopped watching and let his hands drop.
Crazy bastards.
He cursed inwardly. Shouldn't they have at least left someone for him to fight? Why were they so damn excited? Even Audin had suddenly dashed forward, crushed the priest’s skull, and was now looking back at him.
He could see the burning desire in Audin’s eyes—eyes harboring a hot, blazing fire.
A bear of a man, absolutely itching for a fight.
Because they were too far apart for the true meaning to carry over, Encrid had completely misunderstood the look.
Rem, needless to say, was running wild. Ragna was not resting either. The man who would normally just watch had suddenly stepped forward and swung his sword.
That strike was more impressive than ever before. A sword plunging diagonally from top to bottom, like an eagle swooping down on its prey. It was faster than any bird, but the strike strongly evoked that image. And just as it had plunged down, it soared back up.
Where Ragna’s sword had passed, the man known as Preparing Sword lay scattered on the ground, sliced into three pieces. Right after the swing, Ragna looked at his blade and, uncharacteristically, let out an admiring hum.
"Ho."
The sword was even more to his liking than he had expected. It was indeed the work of a dwarf.
Encrid also wanted to test his newly created swordsmanship in actual combat and swing the sword he had received from the dwarf, but...
"It ended in a flash."
Just as Krais’s hollow voice suggested, it was over in an instant. Rem had sliced through five or six men in the blink of an eye, and his fire axe hadn't even needed to spark. There was that much of a gap between the two groups.
In truth, Krais, a specialist in worst-case scenarios, had simply overprepared. Even if the archers had participated, the outcome was already set in stone.
In the midst of the cleanup, Sachsen had also stepped forward and captured a mercenary—a young man with a decent face and some renown.
"If you spare me, I'll do anything," the man pleaded, bleeding profusely from a stabbed thigh.
"I'll take this one," Sachsen said.
Requests from Sachsen were rare, and Encrid had received much from him.
"Take him."
He didn't ask what the man would be used for. To be honest, no one else cared either.
Dunchabel clearly felt the change in her own skills. And Teresa...
"When we get back, let's have a match."
She spoke to Encrid with eyes hotter than ever. Her blood was clearly boiling.
"Sounds good."
Since it was a welcome request, Encrid nodded, looked around at his companions, and thought to himself:
Crazy bastards.
It was a silent complaint directed at those who hadn't left him a single share of the fight.
The Black Sword’s first ambush had ended anticlimactically. Krais thought it was entirely their own fault. They’re being way too kind.
Of course, from now on, the enemy would resort to methods that were far from kind. If even one of those attempts hit the mark, someone’s life would be in danger. As his worst-case scenarios ran wild, Krais formulated corresponding countermeasures.
What else could he do? As long as he followed a man like Encrid, it was an unavoidable burden. At the same time, Krais made up his mind.
I can't run a business at a loss.
His goal remained the same: the noblewoman’s salon. Along with that, he wanted to get Encrid into the salon even once, even if only on a short-term contract. Having him host guests... just thinking about it made Krais excited.
The group cleaned up the traces of battle. Torres and Zimmer exchanged greetings with the group once more.
"Good work," Encrid said, and Torres nodded.
"Safe travels."
The snow stopped quickly, and the group walked briskly. When they stood before the Border Guard, the wild horse nudged Encrid’s shoulder.
"What?"
The horse huffed.
"Ah, you want to look around?"
The horse nodded.
"Sure, do whatever you want. It’s dangerous to just wander into the territory, so come when I call you later. Go on. Look around and have fun."
Encrid kept talking to the horse as if it were a person. Rem, staring at this, muttered, "I knew it. That thing is definitely going to turn into a human. Let’s have Esther ask it."
No one answered him.
After entering the Border Guard, the group headed straight into the barracks. It was already evening. Having decided to push through and rest inside rather than camp for another night, they had arrived late. Naturally, there was no hassle at the castle gates.
"You've returned!"
A soldier whose face they had become familiar with through training opened the side gate. He didn't look entirely glad to see Encrid. Since the training they had been resting from would now resume, the soldiers' complexions were dark.
"I will check tomorrow morning whether you've been slacking off in the meantime."
Encrid was someone who fulfilled his duties. He had not forgotten his role as the training company commander.
"...Yes, sir."
The soldier would surely deliver this "joyful" news to everyone. His face was filled with an almost unbearable "joy," though his trembling cheeks made it seem like a heavy burden to bear.
"Ah, I'm exhausted! Let's get some rest!" Krais said as he headed into the barracks, while Teresa continued to stare at Encrid.
"Shall we have a match before washing up?" Encrid asked.
Teresa nodded. The two engaged in a spar, and though Teresa lost, she was satisfied. He was a man who could push her this far, which made him worth following. Whenever she fought him, an inexplicable sense of fulfillment washed over her.
The next morning, Encrid woke up and delivered a brief report to the battalion commander. The previous night, Esther had curled up in his arms and fallen asleep. The panther-turned-human had nothing in particular to say, silently sleeping the night away.
"Let's begin training."
He started his day as the training company commander. It was now after lunch.
"Someone named Gilpin has come to see you outside. He looked to be in a hurry."
Encrid tilted his head. Was there any reason for Gilpin to visit at this hour? But as soon as he heard the name, a certain past event came to mind—specifically, when a certain Frok had come to visit.
As he went to greet his friend Gilpin, he also saw the elf company commander standing beside him.
"Where are you going, fiancé? Without even saying goodbye," the company commander asked.