Chapter 525: Four
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 525: Four
"Indeed."
Abnayor received the report on the enemy’s scheme immediately.
Currently, he was positioned far in the rear, having installed a puppet commander to serve as the public face of the army. Had this been a true all-out war, Barnas Hurier would have taken the lead, but the outcome of this battle would be decided on the flank, not the front.
Looking at it this way, is it similar to the previous battle?
Back then, the impact of a minor skirmish on the flank had dragged them into a full-scale frontal clash. Since every battle against Naurilia was etched into his mind, Abnayor recalled the memories vividly.
It was a battle starting in a similar yet different form. Back then, the fight on the flank had been secondary; this time, the struggle for the bypass route would decide the war.
Abnayor took a sip of his tea. He had just finished a hearty meal. A man had to eat well for his brain to function at its peak. Even now, as he rested, his mind spun rapidly, allowing him to pierce through his opponent's intentions.
Then again, one wouldn't even need to be a genius to notice this much. Even the puppet playing commander in his stead would have grasped the enemy's intent. Therefore, Abnayor had to look beyond the obvious.
So, what was their public, external intent—the one displayed so clearly, without a hint of concealment?
They were testing the waters.
They were demanding to see what was left in the main camp. It was a probe to see if they were being deceived, and if the enemy was actually prepared for an all-out war.
Paranoia.
Abnayor sensed an obsession in the opponent's scheme. This was a bastard who wouldn't just tap a stone bridge before crossing; he would examine when it was built, who made it, and exactly how sturdy it was before finally setting foot on it.
They also want to check if we have any knight-level forces left.
And while they were at it, they likely wanted to sap morale and secure an advantage in case an all-out war did break out. Their intentions were obvious. But just because they were obvious didn't mean they would be easy to block.
"Tell them to send out someone confident enough to crush the opponent. They don't necessarily have to win, but they must not be defeated easily. Ah, and add that the opponent is no pushover."
Abnayor quickly organized his thoughts and spoke. What card had the opponent played? He assumed the worst.
An Associate Knight?
Most likely. In that case, they just had to show a card of equal value. Abnayor did not know exactly who had stepped forward. To be honest, he didn't think they would be able to field any particularly impressive card, because he believed the real battle would take place in the Pen-Hanil Mountains.
Abnayor still believed this fight would end in Azpen's victory. He lacked absolute certainty, but his confidence was boundless.
They had hidden knights—forces capable of deciding the outcome of a war. Even if three of the four were only at the entry level of knighthood, a knight was still a knight. How could the enemy possibly block such a force?
Naurilia surely had hidden forces of their own.
At best, they'll have two knights.
One who had come all the way to the Azpen border and killed two Associate Knights. And one more unexpected variable. That made two.
Fine, let's exceed expectations and say there are three.
Even so, nothing changed. The Wolf Beastman General was a symbol of martial might, standing on equal footing with Cypress of the Red Cloak Knights. Furthermore, when it came to duels alone, there was a knight whose victory was guaranteed—though his Will had weakened slightly due to selling out his vow in the past.
That won't be an issue.
Even excluding those two, there were two more. Even without General Frok, that was the case. Yet, even General Frok was moving with determination, leading his unit.
If they fought, they would win. As long as they clashed, victory was theirs. In such a battle, they had even initiated the advance first to gain a slight psychological advantage, operating under the assumption that the opponent also had knights.
That slight edge could very well decide victory or defeat. Did not those who became knights speak with one voice?
"If skills are comparable, the one who wavers even slightly is at a disadvantage."
It was the answer to the question: 'What is the greatest factor that decides victory or defeat in a battle between knights?'
The beastman general who gave that answer had spoken while tapping his own chest. Abnayor recalled General Frok, who had been standing nearby, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance at the gesture.
Abnayor finished his calculations. Meanwhile, the second messenger from the puppet commander arrived.
He was just about to eat a fruit-topped pie as a post-lunch snack. A sugary pie would surely make his brain spin even faster—and, of course, please his tongue. The messenger arrived just as he lifted his fork in anticipation.
Without taking a single bite, Abnayor waited for him to speak. The messenger, standing before the table, gasped for breath.
"Four have been defeated in the frontal duels."
"Four?"
"After the first one, Naurilia kept demanding more duels."
Abnayor knew there were forces of unexpected strength among his own troops. There were hired mercenary swords, and he had also stationed Associate Knights from the Ducal Knights. And four of them had been defeated?
"Did you send out Associate Knights?"
"Yes."
"And they were still defeated?"
Unexpected. But it is fine. As long as they didn't go down easily. The real fight is beyond the Pen-Hanil Mountains...
"Morale is at rock bottom. Every single one of them was overwhelmingly defeated. The assault unit commander who was defeated second said they are madmen."
Abnayor's train of thought was cut short. The messenger's words struck his brain before he could finish. What the opponent had done and what they aimed for naturally connected in his mind.
"...That bastard."
The opponent had diverted some of their forces.
Didn't we agree not to engage in an all-out war? Yet you diverted forces? If things go south, do you plan to win even the fake battle at the front instead of the real one on the flank? What do you even gain from that? To buy time for the Red Cloak Knights to join the war later?
No, that wasn't it. There were simply more people left in the Border Guard, even excluding Encrid and the knight-level forces. Though leaving them on the battlefield was likely due to Krais's over-cautiousness.
"How many?"
The messenger was quick-witted. "Four stepped forward."
"Four? And what is this about madness?"
"They said every single one of them is a lunatic..."
The soldier, who had become Abnayor's messenger because he was usually sharp and articulate, trailed off. It was clear that something bizarre was happening at the front.
Abnayor pushed the fruit pie aside.
"Tell them not to fight from now on."
Morale could go to hell for all he cared; they must not fight. That was his judgment. He concluded that all this talk of madness was just a trick to sap their morale.
It was a misunderstanding. There was simply an occurrence that neither Krais nor Abnayor could have anticipated.
* * *
"Are they trying to pick a fight with sheer size? I'll go finish him off."
Just as Audin provoked them, an outstanding figure from Azpen stepped forward. The commander had just heard the words of the messenger from Abnayor. The man who stepped forward was also a warrior of exceptional martial skill.
"Defeat will not be tolerated."
The challenger belonged to Azpen's Ducal Knights. He wasn't one of the top-tier elites, but he was still an Associate Knight.
"Hey! I'll make you pay for your insolence!"
The Associate Knight charged forward on horseback. Audin, having dismounted, looked as if he were quietly enjoying the sunshine. He even tilted his head toward the light, humming with his eyes closed.
Seeing that ridiculous sight made the Associate Knight so furious that he didn't even dismount, swinging his mace instead. Adding the horse's acceleration and channeling his Will into the blow, he swung diagonally from atop his mount. A heavy black line stretched from above, falling like the scythe of the Grim Reaper.
Hearing the thundering hooves and his opponent's furious shout, Audin spread his feet and took a stance. Then, he raised his head and looked directly at the incoming black line.
Instantly calculating everything from the horse's speed to the timing of the impact, Audin reached out. The crude steel gauntlet covering his left hand reflected the light.
Clang! Crash!
Two thunderous roars struck the soldiers' eardrums. The sound erupted from the point where Azpen's mounted Associate Knight and the allied martial artist crossed paths.
The Will infused into the mace carried the intent to shatter. Audin did not bother to match his opponent with brute strength. Though he looked like a man who was nothing without his raw power, Audin's true specialty was technique.
Reaching out, he caught the mace with the sloped edge near the back of his gauntlet, parrying it to redirect its course. In that split second, he formed a hand blade with his free right hand and struck the opponent's waist.
With that, the duel was over.
Though the man wore chainmail over a thick gambeson, it could not stop the edge of Audin's right hand. Flesh was gouged, the lumbar spine vanished, and a portion of the internal organs nestled within spilled onto the ground.
The opponent had not been careless. He had simply intended to endure the blow, trusting in the sturdiness of his armor as he swung his mace. After enduring it, he had planned to accumulate damage by leveraging his mounted advantage and eventually break his opponent. It was a tactic he frequently used, known as "flesh carving."
The first opponent he faced on the battlefield was also massive. It was a tactic the Azpen Associate Knight had devised because he did not think his opponent would be easy, but Audin shattered it in a single blow.
From the very beginning, the difference in their levels was vast. Audin shook his hand in the air and spoke.
"Are there any more brothers who know how to fight?"
"Bleeegh!"
No sooner had he spoken than the Azpen Associate Knight, who had been barely holding on atop his horse, coughed up blood and collapsed. With his foot caught in the stirrup, his body slumped forward, causing the agitated horse to whinny and rear up on its hind legs.
Dangling from it, the body of the man—who was likely now by God's side, asking when he had died and if he was indeed dead—swayed back and forth.
"What the fuck is that?" one of the soldiers at the very front of the Azpen unit muttered.
In truth, most of the watching soldiers didn't even understand why the man who rode out on horseback had suddenly collapsed. He had just charged out and dropped dead. That was all they saw. The scattered entrails weren't clearly visible from a distance. Instead, they only saw a monster standing tall, boisterously calling for his next opponent.
The monster—whether a bear or a giant—who had killed their charging ally beneath his horse filled the soldiers' vision. At this overwhelming display of force, everyone's eyes locked onto him, yet Audin himself remained perfectly calm.
That only instilled a deeper sense of terror.
Are we supposed to fight something like that?
The Azpen Associate Knight might feel aggrieved, but he had simply run into the worst possible opponent. Now that Encrid had reached the level of a knight, Audin—who could contend with knights even without divine power—was practically the strongest among those at the Associate Knight level.
On top of that, with Rem's recent return, Audin might have unconsciously accumulated some frustration. That was why he had gone a bit too far. Since that feeling was his own, Audin did not ignore it. Instead of ignoring it, he wanted to use his hands a bit more while he was at it. It was absolutely not a vent of anger.
It wasn't because the Barbarian Brother had jokingly called him 'Hey, youngest' all this time, or because Brother Mia had nodded along to those words. Though his fists naturally clenched a bit too tightly at the thought of those two, it really wasn't a vent of anger. He had only stepped forward because the Big-Eyes Brother said this kind of fight was necessary.
"I will not discriminate between brothers and sisters. Step forward."
It meant that even if a woman came out, he would turn her into the same bloody lump of meat. He spoke as if shouting, yet his tone was serene. Since he had silenced the enemy with a single punch, his voice surely reached them, but they remained silent.
The response came from his own side.
"They'd only step forward if you showed some restraint. Even I wouldn't want to fight you," Pel said as he approached. His eyes were hollow and his face was filled with worry, but whatever he was thinking, Pel stood beside Audin and continued.
"Go back. If you stay here, even those who would have challenged us won't step up. The big-eyed brother said it would be more effective to take turns fighting and winning rather than having one person beat everyone to death."
Audin felt a pang of regret but composed himself. "I see."
He should have held back a little. But the moment the enemy said "Hey," his body had moved on its own. It was instinct. That "Hey" had sounded strangely similar to the Barbarian Brother's way of speaking.
Naturally, it wasn't a vent of anger.
"Well then."
Audin stepped back, and Pel took his place.
"Next, step forward," Pel said.
Even if Audin had stayed, there were still a few warriors left in Azpen willing to fight. It was just that their commander was holding them back. Abnayor had told them to hold out as long as possible, so what were they supposed to do if they died in a single blow?
Are our forces weak? Or is the enemy strong? They said there were no knights among the enemy. Then is that man not a knight? Is he a giant? Even if he were a real giant, giants who fight that well are rare.
"Let me go out."
A man with fierce eyes approached the commander. It was the assault captain. He didn't belong to the knights, but he was a man who knew how to win a fight.
"If we charge like this, our forces will be shredded. We must bring down at least one of them."
The assault captain was the one who ran at the very front. His instincts told him that if they fought like this, they would be pushed back without inflicting any real damage. The commander shared the same thought, but he knew one more fact: without Abnayor's approval, there would be no charge. There would be no all-out war.
Even so, he couldn't just leave things like this.
"Go."
"Understood."
The assault captain dashed forward. Pel waited quietly, regardless of what Azpen did. Unaccustomed to fighting on horseback, Pel did not ride a horse either. As he waited, he looked up at the sky, feeling the wind brush against his cheeks and catching the pungent scent of blood.
In truth, neither the sky, the wind, nor even the smell of blood registered in his mind. He was still filled with inner turmoil.
My talent might actually be terrible.
Once, seeing Encrid's skills grow at an explosive rate, he had blurted out that he had never seen a genius like him before. That was during their first meeting. When he uttered those words, Pel had secretly held his own talent in higher regard. He had viewed Encrid as an opponent he would soon catch up to.
It was the same afterward. And now, the very foundation of his belief had been shattered.
Then what is left? The Idol Slayer remains.
Was a single magic sword his everything? Was it all that represented him?
"Stop being so arrogant."
Those were the words of that prissy swordsman, Ropode. If he wanted to kill him, their skills were too close. But should he rely on the magic sword to kill him? He hated the thought. His pride would not allow it.
Then what should he do? Pel was lost. There was not a single star in the dark night sky. There was only darkness. And within that darkness, he felt a single spark of flame.
I want to do something.
He wanted to swing his sword. It was the moment his motivation surged. Encrid's Will had influenced him. A single question arose from the depths of that motivation.
Is it so wrong for someone to be more talented than me?
Ironically, Encrid had become a knight. He had awakened right before Pel's eyes. And even after that, he had never stopped training.
"A shepherd is someone who can be trampled to death by his sheep at any moment."
That was what a shepherd was. It was the same for a swordsman.
"Then why bother being a shepherd?"
To the question he had asked in his childhood, the elder, known as the wisest man in the village, had laughed. He vividly remembered the whistling sound of air escaping through the gaps in the elder's broken front teeth.
"Should I answer that it's because someone has to do it? Or should I say it's because this is what's truly fun? Or perhaps, because it's a covenant we must keep?"
The answer lies within me.
He finally understood the elder's words. Pel no longer looked around. Instead, he linked what he had to do now with what he would do next. For now, he would fulfill his duty as a person standing here.
Next.
I will try to catch up.
He resolved to run with Encrid as his goal. It was a determination to acknowledge his talent and fill the gap with effort. This was the beginning.
"You look young. How old are you?"
This time, the opponent also dismounted, speaking as he did so. The Shepherd of the Wilderness was more accustomed to fighting using all sorts of tricks rather than a straightforward head-on clash.
The opponent made the first move against Pel. As he spoke, he pulled out a pouch and threw it. The Azpen assault captain threw poison sand, but Pel predicted the movement of his arm, traced its trajectory, and lightly leaped aside to dodge it.