Chapter 457: Go Ahead and Dance, Then
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 457: Go Ahead and Dance, Then
"Raise bows!"
The command he had heard countless times rang out. Though swept up in the same rush of adrenaline, the commander did his duty.
Milio glanced to the flank.
From one side of the forest, a mass of monsters broke away like a severed limb from the main horde. Seeing this, the soldiers atop the wall actually felt a sense of relief—even welcome.
Milio was no different.
An opponent had finally appeared to receive this burning heat, this fire that threatened to incinerate his very soul.
"Aim!"
The commander’s shout echoed along the wall. The unit leaders took up the cry.
"Aim!"
Arrows were notched; angles were adjusted. Bowstrings made of twisted sinew were drawn back against composite bows crafted from the bones of demonic beasts and apex predators.
Creeeeak.
Holding the taut string, Milio waited for the word. Every soldier held their breath, frozen in position.
The commander was busy assessing the size and number of the rushing monsters. It was difficult to get a clear picture in the dead of night. Even as he knit his brows and focused, the shadows refused to give up their secrets.
One of his subordinates loosed a fire arrow.
With a sharp twang, the flaming shaft soared through the dark and plunged into the midst of the enemy horde. The monsters didn't care for a mere spark. In truth, a single flaming arrow couldn't inflict any real damage.
The black soil swallowed the light. The fire was extinguished in an instant. A single shot was hardly enough to secure their vision.
"It's manageable. Right where you're looking is the center. It's not an overwhelming number. Not that many."
...For a Twin Red Moons night, at least.
Those were the words of Oara, who swallowed the rest of her sentence. She was a knight standing idly on the wall with her arms crossed.
Hearing her, the commander nodded. The fire arrow shot moments ago would serve as a marker for everyone. They had already memorized the approximate coordinates.
"Fire!"
Following his command, the signal flag dropped.
Flutter!
Wind, red moonlight, torches, and elongated shadows tangled together. The commander, watching the flag drop beside the archers, opened his mouth.
"Loose!"
A great marksman is someone who hits their target. However, a great bowman is a different breed entirely. They aren't individuals who hit a specific point, but those who can reliably rain death upon a designated area.
And these men were excellent, well-trained soldiers. They were an archer unit.
Arrows tore through the air, pouring down toward the charging horde. Fire-forged iron arrowheads pierced the heads of spiders and embedded themselves deep into the earth.
* * *
Fwip-fwip-fwip-fwip!
Encrid heard the air shrieking overhead. It was the sound of a volley.
The source was not the enemy lines, but his own allies. What did this tell him? It meant Rem and Dunchabel had done their jobs perfectly.
Since Milio and the soldiers weren't the only ones caught in the heat of battle, Roman, Aisia, the Short-Haired Blonde, and the four squires moved with frantic speed.
"We hold them here," Roman said, gritting his teeth.
"You four, group up on me!"
The Short-Haired Blonde, an Associate Knight, stepped in among the four squires and took command. Her weapons were daggers and poison—a perfect fit for this position.
Roman and Aisia worked in tandem. Roman became a bold spearhead delivering massive, crushing blows, while Aisia became the shield, deflecting the spider legs that thrust through the gaps. The two made a formidable pair.
The monsters were numerous, and the Twin Red Moons were high.
"Kill them all."
Roman did not hide his surging momentum. With a torch at his back, he brought his sword down.
Whoosh, crash!
His club-like greatsword crushed six spiders at once. This was preceded by Aisia's quick hit-and-run tactics, which had herded the monsters together for the kill.
Amidst this endless cycle of slaughter, Encrid felt something slip into his perception from the blind spot.
A sharp object thrusting upward from below. A phantom pain shot through his lower abdomen. It was aiming for his stomach.
Encrid barely caught it in time, reflexively drawing his gladius to parry. It was a deflection that combined a parry and a redirect by snapping his left wrist.
Clang, shhh-t!
The redirect failed. The force behind the thrust was as heavy as a giant's.
Encrid twisted his torso.
Riiip.
He barely avoided having his flesh torn, escaping with only the surface of his armor being gouged. If he hadn't been wearing his Bandage Armor, a chunk of his side would have been ripped away.
What had lunged in was a monster's forearm, transformed into a blade and tipped with poisoned claws.
It was a Ghoul.
Its name was...
"Jerix!"
Oara's shout echoed from atop the wall.
If left alone, Oara would step in and fight. Then it would just be a repetition of every other "today." Therefore, from now on...
I'll force my way.
He would be stubborn. He just had to be like Ragna, who always found a way. In other words, Encrid had no intention of yielding this fight.
"Roman! It's a bet!"
A shout burst from Encrid's mouth.
Conveniently, a similar bastard of a monster had just popped up in front of Roman as well: the Spider Swordsman. A monster that used its eight arms like blades.
Everyone was shocked. A momentum as formidable as a knight's radiated from the enemy.
Amidst the chaos, a shadow rose behind the group of squires. It was an Owlbear.
Encrid hadn't predicted every single detail, but he knew one thing: when a stage like this was set, that Owlbear bastard always targeted the weakest link first. For instance, if a unit was deployed in front of the wall, they were always the first to die.
Now, it was targeting the squires.
Having anticipated this even before the shadow rose, Encrid leaned half of his body backward while shouting to Roman.
In Encrid's peripheral vision, the four squires came into view. The torches, the shadows, the red moonlight, the Short-Haired Blonde, and the positions of the four boys. Taking everything in at once, he also caught something flickering behind Oliver.
Oliver had been panting with exhaustion for a while now. His endurance was his weakness. The Owlbear smelled it.
At the same time he turned his gaze backward, Encrid stepped outward with his right foot and twisted his waist in a semi-circle. Simultaneously, he thrust his left hand forward. The gladius in his hand, perpendicular to the ground, transformed into a disc slicing through the red moonlight as it tore through the air.
Whoooosh!
Instead of trying to regain his balance immediately after the throw, Encrid spun his body one full turn further. As he did, he slashed Aker horizontally.
Clang! Thud!
Two sounds struck his ears simultaneously. One was from the Owlbear's direction, and the other was right in front of Encrid's nose.
Aker struck the claws of the Ghoul that had been aiming for an opening, while the Owlbear crossed its arms in front of its chest to block the thrown sword. The beast's feathers were slightly torn and black blood flowed, but it was not a fatal wound. The gladius bounced off to the side and clattered to the ground.
It felt like he hadn't split anything with his gladius lately, but the sword had done its job well enough.
Encrid raised Aker horizontally, bringing it up to eye level. His blue eyes gleamed past the blade, reflecting the red moonlight.
With its claws blocked, the Ghoul took a step back. Was it flustered that its attack had been countered? No, it wouldn't have that kind of intelligence. It was surely a monster that had mastered killing techniques purely through instinct.
Still, it was impressive. This bastard deserved the name Jerix.
"Crazy," Luagarne's murmur came a beat late.
He understood the meaning behind her words. He had turned his back on a knight-class monster just to save his allies. It was utterly insane.
And that was why it was thrilling.
Ah, this is so damn exciting.
Encrid didn't hide his thoughts. There was no need to. He was shattering everything these monsters wanted, piece by piece. He couldn't help but enjoy it. Moreover, being able to fight a battle like this was a reward in itself.
Encrid smiled.
Up to this point, everything had gone according to plan. But would everything go exactly as he wished? The probability was low.
I can't know everything.
Not everything goes as expected. That was only natural. Today would repeat, but it could never be the exact same today. Yet, some things remained unchanged.
The Ghoul, the Owlbear, the Spider Swordsman.
The three types of monsters—those dog-like beasts, the sacrifices meant for hunting knights—they remained the same. This was the stage set by the Fragment of Balrog that would appear afterward.
Then what was his task? He had already decided.
"Your mother must really be a ghoul."
Encrid spat out a meaningless remark. The Ghoul let out a low, rattling growl. A toxic aura could be felt in its breath. Poison on its claws, poison in its maw.
"Go brush your teeth."
Encrid spat out another insane remark.
"Are you really okay?" Luagarne asked.
He was perfectly fine. This was, in a way, like warming up before a workout. It was like a ritual performed before a sacrifice.
Though verbal provocations didn't work on this opponent, behavioral ones hit the mark. Look at this. Whether a bastard like you is in front of me or not, I can throw a strike at that annoying Owlbear behind me and still not get bested by the likes of you. That was the provocation.
Grrrr.
The Ghoul growled again. Sensing the monster's irritation at things not going its way, Encrid grinned widely.
"Are you trying to get yourself nicknamed 'Encrid the Smiler' or something?"
Even Luagarne was tense. The monster was just that formidable.
With a smile playing on his lips, Encrid recalled his goal. To send out Oara with her limbs intact and her spirit untired. To send out a smiling Oara.
If what the enemy wanted was a joyless Oara, a shell stripped of her will... then Encrid would show them an Oara brimming with life.
"What bet?"
Only then did Roman's voice reach him. He spoke while keeping his guard up against the front.
Encrid felt Oara's presence approaching from behind. She did not hide her momentum. It was that familiar pressure. Her intimidation radiated outward, crushing everything in front of her. This time, the targets were entirely the monsters.
Some of the nearby spider monsters recoiled as if flung backward upon seeing Oara. She hadn't even drawn her sword.
"That's mine," she said. The resolve in her voice was vivid.
Encrid rejected that resolve.
"Wait your turn."
A brief silence weighed on his shoulders. A wordless pressure. Encrid rejected that as well.
Breaking the silence, Oara asked, "You don't need help?"
"Just cheer me on."
Encrid replied without missing a beat. It was the resolve of a path already chosen. The resolve that this fight, up to this point, belonged to him.
He was forcing his way. It was stubbornness. Spite. Obsession.
The prey you targeted is Jerix? Now, it's mine. My prey.
A resolve bordering on sheer obstinacy flared up, shaping his momentum. Though he wore no red cloak, the back of a man fully worthy of being a member of the Order filled Oara's vision.
"What a strange bastard," Oara said. It sounded like the highest praise.
Did Oara smile at his words? She probably did. But now, he had no luxury to look back.
He felt the Ghoul's momentum. It felt as though if he misplaced his gaze for even a fraction of a second, a strike akin to that of an Azpen Knight would fly at him.
Encrid squared his chest and spoke with his body.
Bring it on.
The die was cast, and it was time to see the result. Just as the roll of the die was the absolute, unchanging constant during his very first repeated "today," there was such a constant on this battlefield as well.
Then, what was the condition to overcome the wall? It was simple. He just had to survive. Hadn't the Ferryman said so?
Run away.
He called it kindness, but to Encrid, those words could never be kind. If he had only wished to survive...
"I wouldn't have even dreamed of such things," Encrid murmured again.
With those words, his resolve shone even brighter. The obstinacy rising from his entire body brought Oara to a halt. Unable to understand human speech, the Ghoul merely stood idly, listening to Encrid's self-muttering.
Encrid steadied his breathing and focused. He could mimic a knight's strike. But would his opponent quietly take the hit? If he tensed up, his shoulders would stiffen. It was better to relax.
Fixing his gaze on the Ghoul, Encrid finally threw an answer to Roman.
"Roman, if you kill your monster before I kill mine, I'll admit you're better-looking than me."
Joking at a moment like this was surely madness. But if he couldn't enjoy moments like this, he would never have reached the rank of Associate Knight in the first place. A Knight possessed a talent of one in ten thousand. An Associate Knight, too, was a position unreachable without a similar level of talent.
If not for his repeated "today"... he was now discussing bets and obstinacy at a height he could never have normally reached.
Encrid felt the hairs all over his body stand on end. Though he had never thought it was fine to die... it was clear that this was exactly the kind of moment he had always yearned for.
The life of standing before others to protect them. The life of a knight sung in the ballads of bards.
"I want to be a knight."
That single sentence had become a dream, and though it had faded and torn... it was now newly patched and filled with light.
"Deal," Roman's reply came.
Sometimes, a man simply needed the acknowledgment of his rival.
"Just cheer you on?" Oara spoke from behind. The same intense resolve from before was no longer felt. But she would step in at any moment. Her presence was brimming with that intent.
Encrid knew Oara's weakness. Poisoned, she couldn't fight for long. Her endurance was unbefitting of a knight.
Therefore, the one to dance on this battlefield right now was not Oara. Now was not the time for the sword named Oara to be drawn.
"Go ahead and dance, then," Encrid replied, swinging his sword.