Chapter 33: Goal
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 33: Goal
Emerald-green eyes narrowed in confusion as the company commander listened to the platoon leader’s report.
"With only ten men?"
Everything that had happened to the other squads during the scouting mission was entirely ordinary. The only notable event for them had been encountering an Azpen infantry patrol on the plains; instead of engaging, they had simply kept their distance and parted ways.
Naturally, since Azpen would also be running patrols, crossing paths on the open plains wasn't unusual. If anything, it was stranger that they had only bumped into each other once.
But what Encrid’s squad had done was on an entirely different level.
That the enemy was lying in ambush in the Tall Grass Field.
That the enemy was plotting something.
Gathering that kind of information was understandable. But to infiltrate the enemy camp and set it ablaze with only ten soldiers?
‘Just what kind of man is he?’
Encrid was at the center of it all. Just like with the previous assassin incident.
Strangely, wherever things got messy, this squad leader named Encrid was always there. Was it purely bad luck? Yet, for someone with such misfortune, he was incredibly resilient. He didn't just survive; time and again, he pulled off these bizarrely heroic feats.
His actual skills were mediocre at best, but the outcome of every situation exceeded all expectations. During the assassin incident, they had managed to protect their target only because that squad leader held the line.
And what he did this time was beyond words. Just infiltrating the enemy camp and gathering intel was an achievement worthy of a hundred rewards.
"Yes, so I’ve been told," the platoon leader replied.
Ten men had infiltrated enemy lines, only five had died, and the remaining five had returned after achieving an absurd level of success. This wasn't the work of some elite special unit trained by the Cypress Division; it was done by a ten-man patrol led by a bottom-rank soldier.
The company commander felt a spark of interest.
‘Encrid, Encrid.’
What kind of man was he, really? His skills were thoroughly average, so how on earth could he pull this off?
She decided not to overthink it.
‘Luck.’
She figured he was just incredibly lucky. If it wasn't luck, what else could it be? Unless he had somehow crawled inside the enemy commander’s head and memorized all their troop positions. But that made even less sense. The hypothesis that he was a spy trained by the Azpen Principality was almost more plausible.
But that was equally absurd. What kind of idiot would train and send a spy like this? A mere squad leader, a common soldier with terrible skills?
"Shall I summon the squad leader to verify the facts?"
"If he were stupid enough to lie about something like this, he would have died a long time ago."
Resting her chin on her fist, the company commander pondered. Setting aside the squad leader named Encrid as a fluke of luck... what were those Azpen bastards aiming for?
First, she had to report this to the battalion commander. That was the proper order of things. She finished her thoughts and stood up.
"Where are you going?"
Who on earth had appointed this idiot as a platoon leader? Pushing past the fool, the company commander said, "To the battalion commander’s tent."
After an incident like this, reporting it was the absolute priority.
*
Rem was bored.
There were no minor skirmishes, and he had absolutely nothing to do. Currently, both armies were busy holding their ground, staring each other down from their respective camps. Rumors had begun circulating within the unit that the war would end just like this.
"Well, that’s how it goes. Winter is coming, and the battle on these plains isn't going to end in a single stroke, is it? So they’ll probably call it a day and wait for next year."
This came from Krais, who had sharp ears. Rather than his own opinion, it was likely a conclusion he had drawn by piecing together the rumors floating around.
Rem didn't care what Krais babbled about; he had zero interest in such matters. Whether this battlefield repeated itself every year, or whether Azpen and Naurilia used to be on good terms in the past—what did he care?
‘There’s absolutely fucking nothing to do.’
He spent his time casually sharpening his axe blade and juggling his weapons, but that didn't change the fact that he was idle. Rem found this downtime excruciatingly boring.
Aside from him, everyone else seemed to have something to do.
"What? You want the smokes at that price? Are you out of your mind? Did you get an arrowhead lodged in your skull?"
Off to one side, Big-Eyes was busy trying to sell something. He claimed that once the fighting stopped, his income would dry up for a while, so he had to make a quick buck now. He certainly lived a busy life.
"What? An arrowhead?"
Sometimes, people would glare at Big-Eyes, trying to intimidate him because of his small stature. Rem made a small hobby out of threatening those guys. All he had to do was stare them down while licking the axe blade he had just sharpened.
In truth, axe blades weren't sharpened to a razor edge. If you sharpened them to the point where they cut at the slightest touch, the edge would chip easily. Unless enhanced by magic or a master craftsman’s touch, this was the proper way to maintain them. Thus, licking the blade wouldn't actually cut his tongue.
"...Well, an arrow did hit my helmet in the last battle."
To think a guy who would tuck his tail so quickly had tried to act tough.
"Smokes are hard to come by, you know. So, how many do you need?" Krais quickly raised his voice. He looked like a merchant through and through.
Sachsen, who was like a sly stray cat, wandered around outside rather than staying in the tent. The religious fanatic was praying, slamming his head against the ground with a deeply depressed face. He kept muttering, "O Lord, give me an answer," which made Rem reluctant to get close to him. Just looking at his behavior, he practically reeked of a crazy zealot.
Seriously, why did that bastard act like that every single day?
As for the last one, Ragna, he spent his time lazily sleeping at every opportunity. As if he never got bored, he spent the entire day repeating a cycle of spacing out, sleeping, spacing out, and sleeping again. Was that actually fun?
‘It’s too damn boring without the squad leader,’ Rem grumbled inwardly.
He even wondered if the squad leader had kicked the bucket. Scouting missions were dangerous. And though the squad leader’s skills had improved a lot, by Rem’s standards, they were still too embarrassing to show off anywhere.
What if he died? If so, it would be a bit—no, a lot—disappointing.
‘Tsk, did I actually grow fond of him in the meantime?’
From what he had observed, the man was too precious to just let die. But it would be ridiculous to follow him around and protect him. Who was that guy anyway? Nobody. Just a guy he happened to like by chance.
‘A guy I like?’
Come to think of it, such people were incredibly rare. How many people like that had there been in Rem’s entire life? He figured it would be best if the man returned alive. Not that he was anxious. After all, the squad leader wasn't the type to get taken down by some half-baked bastards.
After all these random thoughts, the lingering boredom became too much for Rem to bear. Whether the squad leader was dead or alive, he had to resolve this immediate boredom right now.
"Do you want me to kill you right now, by any chance?"
Rem chose a simple method. He lightly kicked Ragna, who was lying down idly, and spoke. Ragna stared up at Rem. His eyes clearly questioned what the hell this bastard was doing.
"Are you doing this because you want to die?" Ragna asked, dead serious.
"I'm bored. Let's go a round."
No long explanation was needed. Sachsen, who had briefly stopped by the tent, saw the two of them, ignored them, and walked past. The religious fanatic was busy slamming his head against the ground with his usual depressed face, and Krais had stepped out.
Having reached an agreement, the two of them headed outside.
Clang.
After lightly clashing axe and sword to signal the start of the fight, they began swinging their weapons at each other.
Whoosh!
Rem’s arm flexed as his axe came crashing down with terrifying force. Ragna dodged the blade, twisting his body to thrust his sword forward. It was a sharp attack aimed at Rem’s abdomen, with a level of precision and mastery twice as high as the thrusts their squad leader, Encrid, had shown countless times.
Rem channeled strength into his toes and leaped backward.
Thud.
A deep footprint was left where his foot had just been. An exchange of offense and defense that would have astonished anyone with a discerning eye unfolded.
Encrid arrived just as their battle was reaching its climax.
*
"Kill him!" an excited soldier shouted.
Before they knew it, a crowd of onlookers had gathered to watch the two. Why was the Troublemaker Squad called the Troublemaker Squad? Because they were a collection of individuals who were problematic in every way.
Then why did the unit keep such a troublesome bunch around? Naturally, it was because of their skill. With two such individuals showing off their prowess, how could it not draw a crowd?
Clang!
As sword and axe clashed, a cloud of dust kicked up around them.
Whoosh!
Yet, neither of them took their eyes off the other.
Screeech.
The axe blade seemed to fall from above, only to scrape along the ground. Small pebbles sparked and flew as they were scraped by the blade. Dodging the axe sweeping low, Ragna brought his sword down from above.
Whoosh.
Even with eyes wide open, the trajectory of the blade was invisible. The sword that had been raised high was suddenly down below, slicing toward Rem’s neck.
Clang!
Once again, axe and sword collided. Sparks flew from the point where their weapons met.
"Crazy," the 4th Company 2nd Platoon Leader muttered.
At a glance, their level was clearly several times higher than his own. Other soldiers who prided themselves on their skills shook their heads in disbelief. Among them were a few who were on the verge of reaching the rank of Senior Soldier. All of them could feel that this was on an entirely different level.
Of course, there were some who tried to measure the duo's skills.
‘I could do that much.’
‘If it were me, I would have finished it already.’
These were thoughts born of the illusion that what they were seeing was the full extent of the duo’s abilities.
Meanwhile, Encrid stood frozen in place, his eyes wide. No matter what the people around him babbled, none of it registered. At this moment, Encrid’s eyes were entirely consumed by tracking their movements, and his mind was fully focused on how he would face their sword and axe.
A drop of sweat rolled down the tip of Encrid’s nose. Just watching and concentrating was enough to drench his entire body in sweat. Sometimes, one’s skills could improve simply by watching.
Though no one had intended it, Encrid realized what he had to do at this very moment.
‘The current way won't work.’
Every person has a form that suits them. The same goes for learning the sword and training the body. And Encrid possessed something no one else had.
The curse of today repeating itself. The endless walls mentioned by the Eyeless Ferryman.
If so, he shouldn't choose ordinary training or practice, but a new method tailored to his unique circumstances. Watching their axe and sword, that method flashed through Encrid’s mind.
The excitement and realization came in an instant, but like a pot doused in cold water, it quickly cooled. The moment he watched their sparring—or whatever this clash was—Encrid had to honestly admit something.
He had never actually drawn out the true depth of their skills. Neither Rem nor Ragna had ever shown him anything like this when sparring with him. Setting aside power and speed, it was obvious from their expressions.
Rem was smiling. He looked incredibly thrilled. Ragna’s face was also brimming with life. It was an expression rarely seen on him.
How many times had he repeated today? How many times had he crossed the threshold of death? Yet, even now, he couldn't seriously compete with either of them. That was his current standing.
But he wasn't discouraged. If he were the type to give up over something like this, he wouldn't have even been able to start. If anything, he found it exciting.
Because now, he had a goal.
‘Those expressions.’
As he watched them, a resolve hardened within him to make them wear those exact expressions when they faced him. Encrid found that deeply satisfying. Because a new path had revealed itself, and because he had the time to walk it.
He was happy—truly, incredibly happy.
Tring-ting-ting.
The axe and sword scraped against each other, producing a strange, ringing sound. At the same time, Rem and Ragna backed away from each other. Both of them were sweating profusely.
Exhaling a long breath, Rem smirked. "Not bad for a bastard who does nothing but sleep all day."
Ragna scoffed at his words. "Who are you to judge, you barbarian who only knows how to bully the weak?"
Despite the sharp words, both sheathed their weapons. They understood each other’s condition without needing to speak. To go any further would mean risking their lives. If they had both lost their tempers, it might have come to that, but not today. This was a spar with plenty of strength left in reserve.
Even while fighting, they had noticed a familiar face among the onlookers. It was their squad leader. This was proof that they had kept enough awareness to scan their surroundings even during the clash.
"What are you all staring at? If you want to keep watching, come play with me instead," Rem barked, and the crowd of onlookers quickly dispersed.
Among the scattering soldiers, only the disheveled, grimy Encrid remained.
"You're back?" Rem welcomed him. Ragna also acknowledged him with a glance.
The fight was over, and Encrid had returned safely. Soon, Sachsen emerged, combing his messy red hair with his fingers, and Krais also came running over the moment he saw the squad leader.
"You're back?"
"Squad leader!"
"The Lord has watched over you."
The devout squad member also offered his greeting.
Six in total—this was the entirety of the squad that was originally supposed to be a ten-man unit. Becoming one of those six once more, Encrid announced his return.