Chapter 28: The Surprise Attack and Blue Eyes
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 28: The Surprise Attack and Blue Eyes
Encrid let out a quiet sigh of relief as he watched the scout squad leader stagger.
I barely pulled it off.
Deflecting a blade with the back of his hand was a gamble—a trick he only succeeded at half the time. He had only managed it now because he’d grown so accustomed to the man’s specific habits after countless repetitions. Otherwise, it was a stunt he wouldn't have dared to attempt.
But that was only Encrid’s perspective.
To the onlookers, it looked like an overwhelming display of superior skill. He had deflected a lethal strike without so much as blinking, then instantly incapacitated his opponent with a blow to the solar plexus. It was a feat that suggested a massive gap in ability.
"You're a lowest-rank soldier?"
How many times had he heard that now? He was sick of it.
"I never took the promotion exam. Didn't see the point."
Having perfectly anticipated the question, Encrid cracked his stiff wrists. No issues there. He had done all the necessary conditioning while practicing his sword swings. In terms of pure physical strength, Encrid was fit enough to rank near the top of the entire unit. That was the only reason such a result was possible.
"From now on, I'm the squad leader," Encrid declared.
He had crossed the first mountain.
The former squad leader didn't even try to argue. He stared blankly, muttering a confused, "Y-you... how..." before falling silent.
No one refused to follow. Even the grim-faced soldier—the veteran who held the most influence after the leader—quietly fell into line behind Encrid.
It was exactly as he had expected.
With the hierarchy established, the journey to find a way out continued.
"Enri, what’s your dream?"
Encrid adjusted the formation to take the lead, walking with Enri by his side. It was right after the commotion, and Enri’s mind was still spinning, but he quickly pulled himself together at Encrid’s words.
"Huh?"
"I asked if there's anything you want to do. A goal."
Enri blinked a few times, flustered, before voicing a surprisingly specific wish. "Uh, well... surviving in one piece and settling down with that widow who runs the flower shop."
Indeed. Everyone had their reasons for living.
"Then we'll have to make it back alive first. What about you?"
Encrid turned his head to the man behind him. Andrew was positioned directly in Encrid’s shadow. The very first thing Encrid had done after changing the formation was placing Andrew right behind him, even letting him keep his weapons.
Watching this, Enri thought to himself: This guy Encrid is truly fearless.
What if Andrew grew resentful and stabbed him in the back? Enri didn't know that even if Encrid were killed, he would simply start the day over.
Andrew let out a deep, weary sigh. "Fine. I admit defeat."
"I asked what you want to do, soldier."
Andrew had been demoted from squad leader to private in an instant, and no one had objected. The difference in skill had been demonstrated too clearly to ignore.
"The revival of my family," Andrew answered.
So he really is a fallen noble.
"Then you'll have to make it back alive first, too," Encrid said.
The men stared blankly, wondering why their newly appointed leader was acting so strange. Encrid repeated the same question to each man and gave the same response.
"You have to make it back alive to make money," he told a soldier who wanted to open a shop.
"Your girl is pregnant? If you don't want to raise a fatherless child, you'd better make it back, too."
One of the former thugs was already an expectant father.
"It seems we're all in agreement," Encrid continued. "Then let's make sure we get back alive."
None of them could understand what he was up to, yet no one questioned him. Encrid made eye contact with each of them, one by one. Normally, it would have been a meaningless gesture, but his previous words carried weight. The soldiers, Andrew included, each recalled what they had left behind.
Encrid wanted them to have a sense of purpose. Though he had started with violence and coercion, they now needed to fight for themselves. It was a method he had tested multiple times. Planting the desire to live in their hearts was a highly effective tactic.
It was far more advantageous for ten men to push through as a single unit than for him to try and break through alone. At this rate, they might even attempt a surprise attack rather than just fleeing. Once an offensive began, the entire situation could change.
I think it'll work.
As long as there was a sliver of possibility, he could try as many times as needed. He could do it, provided he was prepared to die. Through several trials and errors, Encrid had memorized the enemy's positions and numbers.
Another "today" passed, one where he beat down the squad leader a few more times.
"What did you say your dream was?"
Another "today" of repeating the same words passed. It would have been easy to grow weary of the cycle, but Encrid spent each repeating day with absolute dedication.
What he gained from these loops boiled down to two key elements: the surprise attack and the flagpole.
Let's do this.
After all those "todays," it was finally time. He had practiced enough.
"Let's all make it back alive."
When Encrid looked back, the entire scout squad nodded. Though they didn't think this was a particularly dangerous mission, hearing him say it repeatedly stirred something in their chests.
"Then let's go."
What he had learned through sparring was now fully ingrained in his body—to the point where he no longer needed to repeat the day.
Encrid did not move with excessive caution. There was no need. He already knew where the enemies were.
"Have you been here before?" asked Enri. The former plains hunter was walking right alongside Encrid at the front.
"A few times."
It would be stranger to say he hadn't, considering how confidently he led the way. He advanced without a single moment of hesitation.
"Ah, I see." After walking a bit further, Enri asked again, "By any chance, were you a hunter too?"
"No, but I learned a bit from a hunter I know."
He said this because he was reading tracks and the direction the grass was bent. Naturally, the one who had taught Encrid these things was Enri himself in a previous loop.
As he led the way, he glanced back. The "nanny-soldier" was sticking close to Andrew. If someone with a face that grim became an actual nanny, children would scream and run away—but on the battlefield, he was the finest bodyguard.
Once the battle breaks out, the grim-faced soldier will definitely follow Andrew’s lead, Encrid noted.
Even as he walked, he visualized the escape route he had painstakingly mapped out. The moment they reached their destination, Encrid raised his right fist, signaling the squad to halt.
"Phew."
He took a deep breath to steady himself. Everyone's eyes gathered on him, wondering why they were stopping at the edge of a tall grass field. Yet, no one spoke. Encrid was an overbearing leader who never consulted them. He was entirely arbitrary.
Not that they minded. The purpose of a patrol was simply to scout a designated area. If it were a critical mission, they wouldn't have been assigned to it. Their squad's role didn't seem to carry much weight. They just had to do the job and head back.
"Shoot," Encrid said, pointing in a specific direction.
Enri, holding his crossbow, stared blankly at him. "Huh? Where?"
It happened every time. It couldn't be helped; they didn't share his memories of "today."
"Shoot. I won't say it twice."
Encrid's tone was cold, brooking no argument. The spot he pointed to was deep in the tall grass. Nothing was visible. No presence could be felt.
Still, Enri did as he was told. He had seen Encrid fight; the man was not to be trifled with. He pulled back the string, loaded a bolt, and released it toward the empty grass.
With a sharp thwip, the bolt flew and struck something with a dull thud. Simultaneously, a choked groan rang out.
"...Huh?" Enri was dumbfounded.
In that moment, only two people remained unfazed: the veteran grim-faced soldier and Encrid.
"Follow me, Andrew."
Placing Andrew directly behind him had been for this very moment. The man had terrible real-world experience but decent skills. If he had the talent, Encrid intended to put it to use.
As Encrid dashed forward, Andrew followed reflexively. The grim-faced soldier spat out a curse—"Damn it"—and charged after them.
When the three reached the other side of the tall grass, they saw a corpse with a bolt driven straight into its forehead. A group of soldiers stood loitering around it.
It was Azpen's crossbow unit. There were about ten of them.
Encrid unleashed a lethal move right from the start: a thrust. Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted and drove his sword through an enemy soldier's neck.
"Gark!"
Blood poured from the wound. The man clawed at the air, trying to grab the blade. Encrid immediately kicked the dying soldier's stomach to wrench his sword free. A dark hole opened as the blade slipped out, and fresh blood gushed.
Meanwhile, Andrew swung his shortsword beside him. His swordsmanship was clumsy, flustered by the sudden command, but it was enough of a distraction.
Clang!
An enemy soldier tossed aside his crossbow and drew a dagger to block Andrew.
Slice.
It didn't matter. Bringing Andrew here also meant bringing his "protector."
The grim-faced soldier moved. He didn't shout or make flashy movements. Slipping behind the soldier who had blocked Andrew, he grabbed the enemy's jaw with his right hand and the back of his head with his left, then violently twisted.
Crack!
The soldier's head twisted to an impossible angle. He died instantly. The veteran then drew the shortsword at his waist and spun like a top.
Whoosh.
His blade slashed through the neck of the soldier standing directly behind him, finding the gap between the helmet and breastplate. The skin split wide.
Spurt!
A jet of blood sprayed from the severed artery.
Seeing this, Encrid kicked the ankle of an enemy soldier beside him. The man, who had been warily watching Encrid’s sword, tumbled sideways. Encrid followed up with a kick to the fallen man's head.
Thud! Crack.
With a snap of his vertebrae, the man let out a choked groan and lost consciousness.
"A-ambush!"
"It's the enemy!"
Only then did the startled shouts of the enemy ring out. And only then did the rest of Encrid's men, including the thugs who knew how to scrap, join the fray.
"Kill them all," Encrid commanded.
Twang!
Enri's bolt flew, striking the chest of a soldier in front of Encrid. It punched through the enemy's gambeson with a dull thud.
"You son of a—"
The soldier tried to curse, but Encrid didn't let him finish. He thrust his sword forward, carving a hole in the man's throat.
"Whew."
Exhaling, he let his muscles rest for a split second. Around him, the clashing of blades continued. He didn't have to face everyone alone. Reminding himself of that newly realized truth, he was about to turn around when—
Hiss!
A grating sound came from three paces ahead. It was a sound he had heard several times: the wary growl of a beast.
He turned his gaze. Jet-black fur came into view.
That creature was the reason the enemy crossbowmen had been distracted. While repeating "today," Encrid had scouted several ambush spots. He had thrown away his own life multiple times to choose this specific site, and the reason lay right there.
That small beast wandering the tall grass had drawn the attention of the crossbow unit. He already knew it would. Though not entirely intentional, it had helped him.
The owner of the jet-black fur stared at Encrid with blue eyes. Encrid's own blue eyes stared back.
Their eyes met.
One of the enemy soldiers clicked his tongue and thrust a short spear down toward the black-furred beast.
Since I owe it one...
He had no intention of letting it die.
Encrid swept his hand across his chest and snapped his arm forward. His fingers straightened, his hand perpendicular to the ground. In tandem with the movement, a knife that had been tucked against his chest flew through the air. It spun and embedded itself in the enemy's shoulder.
The man with the short spear faltered.
Yowl!
Seizing the opening, the beast—barely half the size of a forearm—let out a startling shriek and bit into the soldier's calf. Flesh and blood splattered. The beast clawed at the wound with its front paws, gouging the flesh until its fur was coated in red, then swiftly darted away.
"You little bastard!"
The soldier stabbed his spear at the ground, but the black-furred beast had already vanished.
What a creature.
It was extraordinary—an incredibly clever and fierce young black panther.
Before the soldier with the wounded shoulder could recover, the grim-faced soldier appeared behind him and cleanly slit his throat. The veteran’s movements spoke of a lifetime of killing.
The screams fell silent.
Andrew killed the last remaining enemy. He had stabbed the man's torso several times, knocked him down, and finished him with a thrust to the face. Andrew stood over the body, panting heavily.
"Haa... haa... whew... fuck, what is this?" one of the allies asked, his face pale.
Encrid scanned the corpses to find their own casualty. That guy was bound to die no matter what. This time, he had been stabbed in the face by a spear. It was gruesome. Encrid had tried to save him in previous loops, but the man always deserted at the first sign of trouble, throwing the formation into chaos. He was better off dead.
"They're enemy soldiers. Did you think a patrol would be a walk in the park? Don't forget. We have to make it back alive."
Encrid stoked their survival instinct once more as he took the lead.
"This way."
The grim-faced soldier stopped him. "That's deeper in, squad leader."
"Are you disobeying? If you wanted to mutiny, you should have done it earlier."
Encrid crushed the objection and marched forward. He gave them no choice but to follow—a silent, heavy pressure. He had to do this. There was no time to explain.
As he ran, he caught a glimpse of the young black panther in the brush. Its eyes were like deep, blue lakes. Encrid looked away from the eyes that were so similar to his own.
Now was the time to struggle for survival with everything he had. It was not the time to bond with a beast.