Chapter 456: How to Seize the Initiative
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 456: How to Seize the Initiative
Encrid wanted Rem to handle things cleanly, tactfully, and with his own quick wit.
And Rem would do exactly that.
He’ll handle it.
It wasn’t groundless trust. From everything he had seen so far, Rem was exactly that kind of man.
Encrid’s objective was simple: kill the leader of the peculiar monsters—the ones that clumped silk together to fire like bows—and thin out their numbers in the process. He hadn’t explained the plan in detail, but Rem and Dunchabel would know what to do.
Would there be dangerous monsters over there as well? Undoubtedly.
But.
If I were the monster...
...I wouldn't squander my forces like that when Oara is right here. Moreover, Encrid intended to draw even more attention to himself from now on, practically begging them to look his way.
Encrid had repeated this day countless times, thinking, rethinking, and scheming. By putting himself in the enemy's shoes, he could look at his allies from a different perspective.
What is the greatest threat?
No need to ask. It was Oara.
What is their objective?
He already knew this, too.
Knight Oara.
They were focused entirely on killing a single knight: Oara. Just as Oara sought to destroy the core to eliminate the Demon Realm, they were doing the exact same thing to her.
Encrid read the enemy's intentions, guessed their thoughts, and confirmed them through his repetitions of this day.
"Was he born with an instinct for the battlefield?" Roman muttered.
But that wasn't the case. He only moved this way because he had the experience. In any case, he had lived through today, over and over again.
Yet, he had never once thrown away a "today" just to gather information. Even the Ferryman had been surprised by this. Encrid simply spent today, every day, and all days swinging his sword like a madman, cramming whatever information he gathered from his surroundings into his head.
That was how today had begun.
In conclusion, Rem and Dunchabel would do their jobs. Therefore, Encrid had to do his part as well.
"Phew."
He puffed out his cheeks, exhaled, and then pursed his lips to draw in a sharp breath.
Thud, thud.
Encrid took his first steps and began to move forward. His body felt light. His condition wasn't just good—it was great. Better than usual, even. His desire kindled a fire in his chest, fueling a surge of exhilaration.
Encrid picked up his pace to a light jog, and Luagarne followed behind him.
From atop the wall, Oara watched them, while Roman, the short-haired blonde, and Aisia observed from nearby. He had decided to win their trust through action. All he had to do was give them a proper demonstration.
The head of a rushing spider monster entered Encrid's vision. It had dozens of lateral eyes, a mandible splitting left and right, and legs that were rock-hard despite not being forged from iron.
It was nimbler than the others, scurrying forward with a rapid clack-clack-clack, crossing its two front legs like a pair of shears.
The Gate of the Sixth Sense opened. His intense focus made time feel as though it were slowing down. He saw the monster's blade-like legs. He could see the serrated, saw-like protrusions spaced at regular intervals. He could feel the force loaded into those two crossed limbs.
If he got caught in them, his body would be cleanly snipped in half. Even a mere graze would tear his flesh to shreds.
In that case, he just had to move before they reached him.
In the split-second gap of slowed time, he accelerated his thoughts and moved. Encrid slashed Aker upward from below. Drawing a smooth arc, the blade sliced through the spider's two legs and continued upward, splitting its head in two.
No need to stop.
Think and move.
After cutting down the first monster, Encrid pressed forward, swinging Aker with only his right hand. His feet stomped, swept, and glided across the ground with terrifying speed. Twisting his waist and pivoting his ankles, he struck down, thrust, slashed, and swung his sword.
Thud, crack, squelch, stab, crunch.
What is needed when facing a crowd? Boldness and decisiveness. One also needed the skill to make decisions based on instinct rather than thought, and the ability to make every single one of those decisions correct.
Rem was the best at that. His axe would move according to instinct, drawing relentless arcs through the air.
Encrid copied Rem.
Ting.
Before anyone knew it, he had drawn Spark with his left hand. What he was copying was not the technique, but the momentum.
I am a barbarian.
A crazy barbarian. A barbarian whose hobby is splitting open the heads of nobles. A barbarian who picks a fight the moment he sees something he doesn't like.
The swords in Encrid's hands bent like whips and moved like beams of light. Spark, transformed into a streak of radiance, plunged diagonally downward. It looked as though he were stabbing empty air, but he wasn't.
A spider monster thrust its head right into the empty space.
Screeech!
A large spider supported its body with its legs, and just as it thrust its abdomen forward, Spark pierced its head. Thrust and withdraw. It was a sword strike of a speed that transcended the ordinary.
Pshhh.
With a hole in its head, the dying monster sprayed poison from its rear spinneret. A dark brown liquid flew through the air and splattered onto the ground. Naturally, it didn't even graze Encrid.
While the poison-spraying monster collapsed, Aker darted across the battlefield like a swallow. It was a continuous cycle of striking, bashing, and crushing.
Sensing a presence from behind, Encrid ducked his head.
Whoosh.
A spider's leg swept over him. A few strands of hair were sliced off and drifted into the air as Encrid twisted his waist and kicked backward.
Thud.
The spider's head, caught by his heel, was crushed. As he extended his foot backward, he spotted an ant monster crawling along the ground, trying to impale his left instep using its two front legs like scythes.
Encrid pulled back his extended foot and kicked forward and upward. Just before the scythe-like limb could pierce his boot, his steel-plated toe struck the ant.
Bam!
It was a relatively small monster. The snapping technique of his kick caused its body to burst, splattering black fluid all over his boot.
Big ones, small ones, medium ones, poison-sprayers, silk-shooters, those using their legs like swords, those charging blindly, those burrowing up from the ground, and those stealthily creeping up from behind.
There were so many. There was no shortage of things to kill.
Encrid saw a split second into the future, and he swung his sword accordingly. He struck downward with Aker, sheathed Spark, and drew his Gladius to stab the ground. After performing both actions simultaneously, he leaped to the side.
Crack!
A whip with an iron weight attached to its end filled the gap. It was Luagarne's assistance.
The spot he leaped to was right in the middle of the monster horde. Several spider beasts thrust their limbs at him. He dodged by tilting his head, held his sword vertically, and deflected the spider beasts' forelimbs by striking them with the flat of his blade.
This was only possible because of the overwhelming difference in skill. Of course, even so, it was a half-insane stunt.
Conversely, if a crazy stunt succeeded, it became a legendary feat. After all, there was a paper-thin line between a madman and a hero.
That was exactly what Encrid was doing right now.
He had taken his position after dodging and blocking. He was right in the center of the monster horde. Having wedged himself among the monsters, Encrid gripped Aker with both hands and swung it in a wide arc.
It was a slash packed with centrifugal force, utilizing the principles of the Heavy Sword Style. His slash tore through and crushed the monsters like a typhoon.
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
Everything that touched the blade was sliced and severed. With a single blow, he had carved a hole right in the middle of the monster horde. Centered around his slash, the space around Encrid instantly became a vacuum.
Encrid caught his breath and flicked his blade in the air, sending black fluid splattering onto the ground. He had already mastered the monsters' patterns through his repeated "todays."
Over the patterns he had memorized through intuition and instinct, Encrid painted his own picture. Having grasped and predicted the monsters' habits, it was a painting drawn on the canvas of the battlefield, using the black blood of the monsters as paint.
Normally, knowing every single habit of the monsters would be impossible, but not now.
The today where Oara died, the today where he died, the today where Rem had a hole in his stomach, the today where Aisia was decapitated, the today where Luagarne died with a pierced heart, the today where Roman died without being able to do anything—there had been countless such "todays."
Those days and experiences had accumulated, condensing into a single man. Therefore, at least on this stage, Encrid was the most experienced hunter.
Not bad.
On the contrary, the more he moved, the more warmed up his body felt. He wasn't tired. This was true even though he had occasionally used Moment's Will, Giant's Strike, and the Will of Severing.
Encrid did not stop. For a moment, he forgot about Rem, forgot about Oara, and just ran. He swung his sword and moved his feet. He fought relentlessly.
This alone was the moment to prove himself. And there were those watching him.
*
Since Milio was waiting in front of the castle gate, he couldn't know what was happening ahead. Just as he was about to order the gate opened, he heard a shout to close it. He had no reason to obey it, yet before he knew it, he had almost moved to follow that command before stopping himself.
"Close it."
Right on cue, Oara's command came down. Milio thought that even without the knight's order, he might have obeyed the shout that had erupted from up ahead.
"To the top of the wall! Everyone, grab your bows!"
Milio spoke to the squad members he led and set off.
Admor, you bastard. You're not dead already, are you?
Although Encrid had intervened, sending Admor out had ultimately been Milio's decision. A faint worry took root in a corner of his mind. Of course, now was not the time for that. Weren't the monsters swarming in unprecedented numbers?
It was a massive wave, even by wave standards. On a battlefield where everyone, including Oara, had stepped up, he couldn't ruin things by worrying about a single comrade.
Milio took another step. He knew there was no need to rush, yet he couldn't help his feet moving faster.
Why aren't they shooting?
It was common sense in Thousand Bricks that to thin out the monsters' numbers, they had to hit them with arrows before they drew close. Yet, no arrows flew. Not even now.
Milio stood atop the wall, his steps having quickened on their own. He grabbed his bow and notched an arrow to the string. Now, all he had to do was wait for the order to fire.
Oara was present, but someone else was in command. After all, when the order of knights stepped out to fight, there was usually a separate person to command the archers from behind. That was how Thousand Bricks had survived.
Milio saw that the person who was supposed to take command was speechless. The same went for the soldier beside him who was supposed to signal with the flag.
No, even Oara was the same.
"Crazy bastard," Oara said, her lips curling upward.
Oara always smiled, but a smile born of genuine excitement was slightly different. It was a subtle difference only Milio knew—a specialty Milio had acquired from harboring feelings for her and observing her for a long time.
Reading Oara's smiles.
To Milio's eyes, the current Oara seemed truly thrilled. Naturally, Milio's gaze drifted forward.
Once, someone had witnessed the battle of a Red Cloak Knights member rising from a Squire to an Associate Knight. It was on the battlefield of Naurilia and Azpen, right in the middle of Greenpearl beyond the Border Guard.
The knight, channeling his will into his legs, kicked off the ground and sprinted. The swordplay that followed was like a butterfly, and his movements were like lightning. Thus, a single combatant tore through the battlefield. That was what could happen when someone of an Associate Knight's caliber entered the ranks of ordinary soldiers.
It was a martial prowess that could turn the tide of a battlefield. Not that Milio had actually seen that fight; he could only see what was before his eyes.
But he was seeing something very similar right now. Outside the castle gate.
The reason for Oara's smile lay right there.
Right in the middle of the monster horde, with no allies around him except for a single Frok following behind. Moreover, the Frok's fighting wasn't even noticeable.
A man standing in a position where Milio himself would have died after barely a few exchanges was swinging his sword. Slicing. Thrusting. Cutting and crushing.
One moment he was rampaging on the right side of Oara, and the next, when Milio looked toward a booming sound on the left, the man had already repositioned. Black soil erupted from where he kicked off. Before the clump of dirt could even fall back down, holes were punched into the heads of four monsters.
What kind of human could do that?
The light from a nearby torch stand flickered wildly, illuminating his actions. Few soldiers had witnessed the battles of the knights as closely as Milio. Because of that, he knew that Squires and Associate Knights were not invincible. They, too, grew tired and exhausted if they couldn't sleep. They couldn't exert their full strength if they didn't eat.
Milio's palms sweated. His heart pounded. An inexplicable sense of exhilaration surged within him. He didn't know what that man was fighting for, but if asked who stood at the absolute forefront of this battlefield, Milio would answer without hesitation.
Thump.
"O-ah."
A soldier stomped his foot and chanted.
"O-ah!"
Another soldier chanted along. Several opened their mouths at once. The chant spread. It was a cheer for a single person. Everyone in the city, everyone defending the wall, watched with one heart. Even Oara.
"Encrid!"
Chanting a single person's name—it was a strange sight. Was the martial prowess Encrid was displaying now really so different from the spectacles the knights had shown them before?
Not really.
And yet, there was something about that man's fight that set their chests ablaze. His heart pounded. His chest grew hot. It felt as though his mind were turning completely white. Exhilaration coursed through his entire body, and Milio believed he could beat to death any monster, or anything else, that stood in his way.
Even though the Twin Red Moons had risen, no one looked up. Nor did anyone speak of crisis.
They simply watched the man who was single-handedly slaughtering the horde that had threatened them just moments ago.