Chapter 30: When Is the Moment You Befriend the Darkness?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 30: When Is the Moment You Befriend the Darkness?
When is the moment you befriend the darkness?
If that were a question, the answer would be simple.
It is when you are in a place you know well.
A place where you know the terrain as clearly as your own front yard.
Ideally, a place where you lived until recently would be even better. In such a place, even a faint glimpse of your surroundings is enough to grasp your exact location.
An incredibly familiar place—for instance, a spot you used as a night training ground just yesterday—would be best of all.
The place Encrid had now reached was exactly like that.
Under normal circumstances, this should have been an unfamiliar land.
"This is..."
Normally, he should have looked upon this sight and been paralyzed by shock.
"Damn it."
Normally, he should have despaired the moment the true scale of the enemy came into view.
But none of this applied to Encrid.
He had already been here several times.
And he hadn't just visited. He had struggled and suffered here, over and over. He had fought and died, then fought again.
Each time, the people who came with him changed slightly, but the core lineup remained the same.
Andrew, the Grim-faced Soldier, Enri, and the rest of the squad. Among them, the two former thugs had proven surprisingly helpful at times.
The squad emerged from the Tall Grass Field, having backtracked through the brush. An unexpected scene unfolded before them.
Some of the squad members had hoped that since their retreat to the main force was blocked, this direction might offer a way out. To be precise, Enri was the one who thought so.
He had a sense of direction as sharp as the Grim-faced Soldier’s. He hadn't spent years as a plains hunter for nothing. Enri figured that since the enemy was busy ambushing them inside the field, this side might actually be empty.
His expectation was wrong.
Which made the reality all the more despairing. Enri felt his legs give way.
Whoosh.
The first thing that caught his eye was a burning torch stand. Then, a wide, thick fabric that partially obstructed the light.
The moment he saw it, Enri took a step back. As he raised his head and widened his gaze, the full shape of the structure came into focus.
It was a tent.
Why is there a tent here?
Relying on the dim light, he turned his head and saw another burning torch stand next to the tent. Stretching far into the distance was a line of them. Even a rough count put the number at well over ten.
The distance between the stands was wide, barely illuminating the surroundings. As the moonlight and the torchlight intertwined, their vision cleared further.
What met their eyes were tents. At least twenty of them lined the edge of the Tall Grass Field.
This was the opposite side of their own camp. Which meant the tents before them belonged to the army of the Azpen Principality.
"Shit, what is this?" one of the former thugs muttered, instinctively lowering his voice.
"Ha... of all the places we could have ended up..." Enri spoke in a hollow, defeated voice.
"Shh, quiet."
In that moment, the Grim-faced Soldier reacted the fastest. If a sentry detected them now, a battle would break out. And if that happened, they would be slaughtered in an instant.
In addition to the light from the torch stands, everyone could see a few moving lights in the distance. No one needed to be told those were torches held by patrolling sentries.
"Shut your mouths," the Grim-faced Soldier hissed, scanning their surroundings.
One wrong move and they were dead. In moments of crisis, a veteran's experience was bound to shine. He acted on instinct, lowering his stance and trying to sense the presence of the guards.
Hide as much as possible, assess the situation, and find a loophole to escape. If they were lucky, it might just be possible. It was night, and though it hadn't been his intention, they had moved in a direction completely contrary to the enemy's expectations.
They had penetrated so deep into the heart of the enemy camp that they could touch the tents just by reaching out, but as long as they weren't caught, there was still a chance to slip away.
That was his judgment. As long as one kept their wits, they could survive even if dropped into the middle of a monster's den.
"Don't draw your blades. Keep low."
He acted as if he were the leader. Most of the squad members moved according to his command.
Except for two.
Naturally, one was Encrid. The other was Andrew.
"He must have a plan. Encrid is the squad leader."
Perhaps the beating he'd received had done him some good. The man who had been beaten to a pulp this morning and had his position snatched away was the only one taking Encrid's side.
"This is no time for jokes!"
The Grim-faced Soldier turned his head back, keeping his waist bent low. His voice was a whisper, but it carried the fierce intensity of a growling beast. He was in a desperate hurry.
This was the middle of the enemy camp. It was several times more dangerous than facing an ambush in the Tall Grass Field. It was a situation where they couldn't complain even if enemy spears suddenly thrust out from the shadows.
What do you mean, "a plan," in a situation like this?
The Grim-faced Soldier's reaction was entirely reasonable. In fact, Encrid had looked at this soldier and thought the same thing multiple times in past lives.
‘He's no ordinary soldier.’
His skills, experience, judgment, and decisiveness... none of it was at the level of some half-baked grunt. If Encrid hadn't been here—if he hadn't repeated this day—it would have been right to make this man the squad leader and struggle to survive under him.
But now, there was no need for that.
Though the other squad members didn't know it, the path to this point had been entirely according to Encrid's design. The time, the location, the route—everything.
How many nights had he already spent here? How many lives had he thrown away? How many times had he repeated this day?
In the tent right before them, three dull-witted soldiers were fast asleep. And they still had plenty of time before they would cross paths with the camp's patrol.
Because he knew all of this, Encrid acted.
Slash!
He drew his sword and ripped through the tent wall. From bottom to top, the blade reflected the cold moonlight.
"You crazy bastard!" the Grim-faced Soldier gasped in horror.
At that exact moment, Andrew reacted to Encrid's move. He lunged into the torn tent in a single bound and drove the tip of his shortsword straight into the neck of an enemy soldier who had just opened his eyes in shock.
Thunk!
Encrid leapt in right after him. As he pressed his blade against the throat of a man trying to scramble up, the startled sleeper gasped and tried to grab the steel with his bare hands. Encrid forced the blade down with sheer strength, slitting his throat.
Squelch.
The sound of tearing leather echoed, and soon, the metallic scent of blood filled the tent. The last enemy soldier had a dagger plunged into his heart by one of the former thugs.
"Gurgle, gu-gurgle..."
The man stabbed in the heart crawled along the floor, reaching out. His life force was stubborn. The light filtering in from the tent entrance illuminated the dying soldier's head.
And over it, a dark shadow fell.
It was the Grim-faced Soldier. He pinned the soldier's back with his knee, grabbed his chin, and twisted.
Crack.
With his neck snapped, the enemy soldier's tongue lolled out as he went limp.
"Hey, you."
In the darkness, the Grim-faced Soldier's eyes gleamed fiercely. He glared at Encrid. They had been lucky, but if they hadn't, they would have been surrounded and annihilated in seconds. This was nothing short of a reckless gamble.
At least, that was how it looked to him.
"We're moving to the next tent," Encrid said, ignoring the man's gaze.
Before the soldier could protest, Encrid thrust his sword forward again.
"Hey, you crazy bastard," the Grim-faced Soldier hissed. Deep irritation and anger seeped from his voice. To him, this was an utterly insane stunt.
Encrid merely turned his head back as he sliced through the side of the tent. He didn't seem even slightly worried that the man might strike him from behind, despite the thick bloodlust the veteran was radiating.
Despite having charged into enemy territory with nothing but a ragtag patrol squad, the atmosphere between the two was so tense that sparks seemed to fly, causing the others to watch them warily.
"Your name?"
"What?"
"Your name."
Was it because of Encrid's nonchalant attitude? Or perhaps his boldness in ignoring the killing intent? At Encrid's question, asked as he dragged his sword downward, the Grim-faced Soldier answered obediently.
"Call me Mac."
He didn't withdraw his bloodlust even as he spoke. Encrid averted his gaze and said, "Mac, I won't tolerate insubordination."
"What?"
Riiip.
Encrid finished tearing the tent wall and stepped through. The remaining men had only one choice. They had no option but to follow him.
"Sigh, I really don't know what the hell is going on," Mac muttered to himself, then locked eyes with Andrew.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," Mac replied to the younger man's look. For now, he had to follow.
The adjacent barracks tent was empty. It seemed all the soldiers belonging to this unit had gone out on night guard duty.
‘Does that even make sense?’ Mac wondered.
The tent was large enough to accommodate at least ten men—a full squad. With a bit of squeezing, even two squads could stay here. Indeed, looking at the traces inside, there were signs of more than ten occupants.
"Forward."
After passing that tent, the "Troublemaker Squad Leader" didn't even bother tearing the walls anymore. He poked his head out of the entrance, looked left and right, and then darted forward. The squad members followed in his wake.
Before they knew it, clouds rolled in and covered the moonlight. Now, it was difficult to see their surroundings with only the distant light from the torch stands. Even as they blinked repeatedly to adjust, the world remained pitch black.
Yet Encrid advanced through the darkness without a moment's hesitation. No sound could be heard except for the heavy breathing of the squad members following him.
"This way."
A voice echoed in the darkness. It wasn't particularly quiet; it was loud enough for any nearby enemy to hear. Chills ran down Mac's spine.
‘That bastard is seriously...’
Yet, there was no sign of anyone. No movement from undetected enemy soldiers. If they had been spotted, they would have immediately heard shouts of "Who goes there?" or the sound of a horn.
Encrid moved again.
By now, even Mac was finding it difficult to tell which way they were going. Back in the Tall Grass Field, the sun had been shining brightly, so keeping their bearings hadn't been an issue. But now, everything was shrouded in gloom.
‘Does he actually know where he's going?’
It certainly seemed so. There was not a shred of hesitation in Encrid's steps. He kept moving, only stopping when a tent with two torch stands standing close together came into view in the distance.
Using a reasonably sized tree as cover, Encrid gestured toward the rear. His hand gesture was barely visible to eyes that had adjusted to the dark.
Mac felt as if he were possessed by a ghost. ‘How far have we walked?’
He didn't know exactly. But judging the size of the camp based on the number of tents... ‘I think we've cut right through the heart of it.’
It felt like they had walked far enough to pass completely through the enemy camp. And yet, no one had noticed? How had they not been caught? It was only natural that he felt like he was being bewitched.
"Wait here," Encrid whispered, turning around.
Glancing at the tent Encrid had indicated, Mac saw four soldiers guarding it. The enemy camp was strangely quiet for the night, but that tent alone seemed busy.
Whoosh.
As the wind blew and the light from the torch stands flickered, the soldiers' shadows danced. Then, someone emerged from inside the tent and spoke to the guards. Because of the distance, their voices couldn't be heard clearly, but Mac could see the sentries nodding in response.
‘What are they guarding?’
And the Troublemaker Squad Leader had come all this way specifically for that?
Only then did Mac think he understood the situation. A thought flashed through his mind and took root.
‘It was a secret mission.’
A mission given solely to the squad leader, excluding himself and the others. It meant Encrid had earned that much trust from the commander. Mac recalled what Andrew had said—that the squad leader had joined them on the company commander's direct orders.
Now, everything clicked. Encrid was carrying out a secret operation.
‘So that was it?’
It was a complete misunderstanding, born of a veteran’s logic trying to make sense of the impossible. Encrid, even if he had known of the misunderstanding, wouldn't have bothered to correct it. The task at hand was far too urgent.
"We are going to set fire to that barracks tent," Encrid said, pointing his finger.
It was a tent guarded by four soldiers at the front alone.