Chapter 296: I Ask My Father in Heaven
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 296: I Ask My Father in Heaven
I pray to my Father in Heaven.
Audin knelt, offering a quiet prayer.
From his low vantage point, he witnessed Encrid’s nonsensical, neck-snapping turn. He saw the sprint, the explosive charge, the flurry of sword strikes, the scrolls, the spells, and the detonations that made him doubt his own eyes.
Hiss!
The moment she saw the opening, Esther bolted forward. Audin didn’t bother to stop her; she wasn’t a panther who couldn't look after herself.
He also saw Ragna step out after her. The foolish swordsman, a man who could get lost at the drop of a hat, ran in a perfectly straight line toward Encrid’s position. His footsteps looked impossibly light.
Am I envious? Audin wondered. Of that foolish, blonde soldier running over there?
"Wandering Teresa asks: when do we fight?"
What a battle-hungry sheep she was. Yet, Audin did not ignore the stirrings of his own heart.
"It is said that unripe fruit is sour and astringent. The Father said, 'Waiting ripens the fruit and the heart alike. I wish to give you good things, so endure, and endure again.'"
"Endurance. Understood."
Teresa quietly knelt beside him. Even in prayer, her build was massive compared to the surrounding soldiers. The same went for Audin. They looked like two great bears patiently biding their time.
May you learn endurance and move forward.
Audin offered a brief, silent blessing for Teresa and calmly continued his prayer.
What is the shepherd leading the Mad Company—and that mad sheep himself—doing right now?
The holy scriptures commanded one to help the young, the powerless, and the weak. In becoming a shepherd who leads the flock, God commanded the protection and guidance of the sheep. It seemed his captain was doing exactly that. He had saved the child, and somehow sensing the danger, he had cut away and detonated the ominous thing clinging to the boy's body.
O Father.
As he murmured his prayer, a horde of demonic beasts crested the horizon, their heads popping up before they began to rush forward in a swarming mass. Yellowish-brown dust billowed beneath the dark sky.
"If the demonic beasts break through, we're all dead! Hold the line!"
At Graham's command, the Heavy Infantry deployed.
Audin began a new prayer. It was short and powerful.
I ask my Father in Heaven. Do You perhaps need a dog to guard Your side?
There was no answer, but he believed one was needed. For sending these demonic beasts to God's side would be the greatest blessing they could receive.
Audin stood up.
"I must personally go and bestow blessings."
"Wandering Teresa will join you."
Audin stepped forward, and Teresa followed in his wake. The two strode toward the approaching horde. The allied soldiers waiting behind them naturally parted, clearing a path for the two massive figures as they walked toward the slaughter.
* * *
Awooo! Grrr! Bark!
Three or four wolves, bloated to monstrous proportions by their transformation into demonic beasts, pounced to block the soldiers' path.
"Hold!"
Crash!
A wolf slammed its forepaws against a rectangular shield that covered more than half of a soldier's body. The impact sent a sharp vibration ringing through his forearm.
"Thrust!"
Block and thrust. It was the absolute fundamental of the Heavy Infantry’s tactics. Several demonic beasts were impaled on the spearheads of the stalwart soldiers. With wet thuds, heads exploded and holes were gouged into chests.
There were too many of them. It was dizzying—a literal wave of demonic beasts.
Soldier Paul, who hailed from a coastal village, knew the terror of the sea all too well. He used to joke with his comrades that even if a towering wave crashed over your head, you had to overcome it to call yourself a man of the sea.
This was exactly like that. Though this was neither the sea nor the coast, the monsters were crashing over their heads like a tidal wave.
"Aaaaargh!"
Paul summoned strength from the depths of his gut. In his village, his strength had been second to none. Of course, if he hadn't lost his temper and beaten the village chief's son half to death, he wouldn't have ended up here in the first place. But right now, the very strength that had crippled that boy was his tool of survival, his bastion.
With all his might, drawing upon every last drop of his strength, he swung the hunk of iron in his hand—a mace with a heavy, rounded sphere at the end.
Whoosh—crack!
The mace caught a wolf at the crest of the wave, sending its head spinning into the air. Blood and brains sprayed from the shattered skull, splattering across Paul's face. He blinked once, pulled back the mace, and swung again.
"Hah!"
He brought it down from above with a guttural shout.
Thud! Crunch!
The mace shattered a demonic beast's shoulder blade and slid off to the side. He immediately scooped the weapon upward from the dirt.
Crack!
This time, he shattered the jaw of another beast that had leaped up, seeking an opening from below.
Yip!
The beast with the shattered jaw rolled aside, but another immediately filled its place.
"Aaaaargh!" Paul roared, having slain three demonic beasts with sheer brute force.
"Fuck, Paul!"
"Nice job, you country bumpkin!"
"Hold! Hold the line!"
Paul had practically discarded his shield to fight. A few comrades beside him used their own shields to cover his openings. Just as he caught his breath, steeling himself to repeat this godforsaken routine as many times as it took—
"Mother!"
A comrade, usually quiet and exceptionally brave, cried out for his mother as he was sent flying through the air. Half of his body had been torn away.
Pitter-patter. Entrails and blood rained down from the sky, mixing with the sleet.
What on earth was this?
Grrr.
Amidst the demonic beasts, Paul saw something horrifying. It was twice the size of the others. No, there was no comparison. Even though it crouched low, their eyes did not meet; he had to tilt his head back just to see its face. A large-class demonic beast?
No. It wasn't that.
Demonic beasts were merely animals corrupted by demonic energy. What stood before him now was a monster—a creature possessing demonic energy passed down since ancient times, the natural enemy of humanity.
A monster—a Dire Wolf.
The grey-furred monster looked down at Paul with glowing red eyes. A comrade blocking its path trembled violently. Just looking at it brought a wave of sheer terror, an primal urge to turn and run. Yet, they held their ground and raised their shields. Only years of blood-spitting training allowed them to endure. For that alone, they deserved praise.
Grrr.
As the Dire Wolf let out a low, heavy growl, the soldiers' legs began to shake even harder. Even if they wanted to resist, they could not overcome their instinctual fear.
Paul was no exception. The hand holding his mace shook. His knees buckled. Goosebumps erupted across his skin as his vision went dark with dread.
Am I going to die?
Paul thought of the weaver girl back home. I loved you.
He had planned to propose to her when he returned. He wanted to ask her to live with him, even if he was a rough man. He wanted to leave his hometown, settle down here, and live happily ever after. He wanted to show her the sea someday. He wanted to have children and teach them how to fish.
There were so many things he wanted to do.
Paul sensed his impending death. He was going to die.
That is, if a bear-like man hadn't been striding up behind him.
A massive hand touched Paul's shoulder.
"May the Lord protect you."
Ridiculously enough, with those words, the pressure crushing Paul's body vanished.
"Whew... whew..."
As he gasped for breath, drenched in cold sweat, the bear spoke once more.
"I bestow blessings even upon the lowly creatures tainted by evil."
Blessing? What blessing?
His confusion lasted only a moment. Audin, the massive, mad soldier, lunged forward. It was a speed that defied his bulk. To Paul's eyes, Audin's figure seemed to blur and vanish instantly. A dozen or so wolf demonic beasts blocked the path to the Dire Wolf, but it was futile.
Crash! Yelp! Bark! Crack! Crunch! Thud!
"What on earth is that?" Paul muttered, his eyes wide.
The vanished Audin was suddenly standing right in the middle of the demonic beasts. Only then did his movements register. He threw punches and kicks without losing a shred of his momentum. It was like watching a war chariot—or perhaps an armored assault carriage.
The two clubs swinging from this "chariot" reduced the horde of demonic beasts to mere mutts rolling around a market floor. Their heads were like tomatoes—crushed, popped, and shattered. While Paul had used all his strength to kill three, Audin killed five or six just by passing through. Some were sent flying high into the air.
Audin, rampaging like a force of nature, blurred and vanished once more. It was a burst of instantaneous acceleration, as if he were demonstrating true speed to an observer.
Crunch, bang!
The ground caved in where he had stood, leaving behind the footprints of a master. It was a charge fueled by monstrous strength.
The Dire Wolf's eyes tracked the vanished Audin. With a swift whoosh, its forepaw moved. The monster, too, displayed a speed that belied its size. Its massive paw lashed out.
The flesh of the monster masquerading as a human and the monster masquerading as a wolf collided.
Clang!
A shockwave erupted from the clash. Dust spread outward in concentric circles. The sight of the wolf-monster and the human-monster facing off filled everyone's vision.
At that moment, terror was replaced by a different emotion. There are those who are incredibly difficult to approach in daily life, yet become the most reliable allies when standing beside you on the battlefield.
Encrid's Mad Company was exactly like that.
"Blessings!" Audin shouted again, swinging his fist.
The Dire Wolf dodged with surprisingly nimble footwork and immediately lunged to bite.
Clang!
Fist and claw clashed, scraping past each other. Audin had discarded his clubs long ago. Yet, why did it sound like steel on steel when a human fist collided with a monster's claw? And what on earth was this "blessing"?
The blessing Audin spoke of was, of course, the act of sending the wolf to heaven. Namely, what he held in his hands right now: violence born of sheer physical strength. Since the greatest blessing for a monster was to die and dwell by God's side, Audin intended to personally deliver it.
"Are you just going to stand there and watch?!" the infantry commander bellowed.
At that sound, Paul raised his mace. "Let's wipe them all out!"
"Are you insane? Form up! Anyone who charges out of formation is a dead man!"
"Paul, you country bumpkin! If you want to go back and be with Desian, shut up and hold the line!" the platoon leader roared.
Paul obeyed. A sudden, overwhelming joy of having survived washed over him. Of course, now was not the time to celebrate; the battle was still raging. However, Paul felt like he wouldn't die. He had just survived a Dire Wolf unscathed. As if he would fall to some measly demonic beasts that were barely better than wild dogs!
"Raise shields!"
"Raise shields!"
The Heavy Infantry, the pride of the Border Guard, once again formed an iron wall. Since they were not the primary offensive force, maintaining their formation was their best option.
Their efforts were soon rewarded.
"If you have something, use it all," Krais had said during the third battle.
Graham did exactly that.
"Deploy."
At his single word, spearheads thrust into the flanks of the demonic beasts.
"Did you think you were the only ones with a trump card?"
Neigh!
It was the Cavalry, which had been kept hidden until now.
Fweeeeet!
A soldier, formerly a mercenary, blew a long whistle at the front. Following that signal, the horses charged. Those who had been hiding behind the castle walls rushed out in a single line.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
As the cavalry galloped in succession, the ground rumbled with the thunder of hooves. It was a makeshift unit composed of mercenaries confident in their horsemanship. Even though it was hastily assembled, it hadn't lost its mobility. They lacked formal training, but they had more than enough spirit to crash into the enemy.
Above all...
Neigh!
A wild horse, far larger than the ordinary warhorses, took the lead and did something insane.
What on earth is this? the mercenary rider wondered. He was startled, but his hands and feet, honed by years of living by the sword, did their job. Matching the wild horse's charge, he swung his greatsword. The blade, swung at an angle to match their rushing speed, caught a demonic beast's head.
Crack!
The decapitated beast flew aside. The wild horse, seemingly thrilled, rammed a demonic beast with its forehead, darted to the side, and then accelerated again from a short distance to charge once more. It repeated this several times, and... well, the mercenary had never seen such a horse in his life.
Is this a circus act?
The mercenary was dumbfounded, but since he knew the horse was an ally—one that Encrid had brought along—he let it go. Trying to understand it would only give him a headache.
Amidst the chaotic battle, Teresa bypassed the horde of demonic beasts and headed toward the rear. Seeing her advancing alone, a few demonic beasts underestimated her and pounced.
Teresa dealt with them calmly. She blocked with her shield, gripped the blade of her sword, and swung it like a club, striking them away with brutal efficiency.
Yelp!
A few of the struck beasts circled her. They were fearless bastards.
Should I kill them before moving on? Teresa pondered, but she realized she was too late.
"You."
The Wolf Bishop stood before her. When had he arrived? Was he truly someone born and raised in the Demon Realm, as the rumors claimed? The question crossed her mind anew. Above all, he was the one who had sent her here.
"You apostate bitch," the Bishop spat.
Teresa replied calmly, "I am Wandering Teresa. I have no idea what you are talking about."
She denied knowing him. Teresa was more shameless than one would think. At least, she wasn't the Teresa the Bishop used to know. Because that Teresa was dead. Therefore, she had every right to be shameless.
"What?"
"I don't know you, so I haven't the faintest clue why you're speaking to me like that."
The Wolf Bishop seethed with rage. "You fucking bitch!"