Chapter 65: Who's Crossing Over?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 65: Who's Crossing Over?
‘He predicted the enemy's movements.’
Sachsen attributed this to the efficacy of the Blade's Sense.
Seeing Encrid make full use of the techniques he had taught him brought a strange tickle to his chest. It was a swell of pride.
However, Sachsen did not confront his own emotions. Unaccustomed to such feelings, he didn't know how to process them.
‘It’s no big deal.’
To him, Encrid was just someone whose death would be an annoyance—nothing more. Why should he be so worked up over this man?
He was nothing. Or so Sachsen told himself.
Sachsen believed this half-baked game of playing soldier didn't matter. His own goal remained clear. Yet, despite his rationalizations, his displeasure lingered.
That was why, standing behind Encrid, Sachsen stared intently at the guild leader.
‘I don’t like his face.’
Sachsen settled on a suitable excuse. It wasn't because of the Squad Leader. He simply didn't like the way the bastard looked.
Therefore, if the man attacked, he would kill him. He would remain faithful to his duty.
*
Rem watched Encrid utilize the Beast's Heart, weaponizing his own audacity. To think he would dive straight into the embrace of an enemy thrusting a spear...
Just a few months ago, it would have been unimaginable for the Squad Leader to display such a feat. His skills had improved dramatically at some point, and Rem’s own teachings were at the center of that growth.
‘Of course.’
The thought made him feel good. But then, these mere assassins had dared to target Encrid.
‘We should just kill them all.’
Rem wanted to grind them into dust.
*
Ragna once again caught glimpses of his own influence in Encrid's swordsmanship.
‘Where did he learn that?’
It was excellent. The shift in his center of gravity, his footwork, the way he thrust his sword—all of it. Though Ragna had occasionally guided him, reaching that level of mastery required bone-deep training.
‘It’s fascinating.’
A man judged to have no talent suddenly displays outstanding skill. Ragna had always liked Encrid; the man's relentless drive was a constant stimulus.
And now, a gang of criminals had targeted such a man?
‘It would be easier to just kill them all.’
Forgetting his usual laziness, Ragna resolved to wipe out the criminal guild entirely. However, the initiative belonged to the Squad Leader. He would follow Encrid's lead.
*
Audin scanned Encrid's body, tapping his thigh rhythmically.
‘It’s a well-trained body.’
But it wasn't a systematically built one. The monks of the temple forged the body before ever touching a technique. That was the secret of physical training. Audin had refined that secret multiple times to create his own style.
‘If he builds his body properly, he will reach new heights.’
The Squad Leader was a man capable of honest, stubborn effort. A thought resurfaced in a corner of Audin's mind: Why did God not bestow talent upon one who strived so hard?
‘For a mere human cannot know the mind of God.’
The phrase felt like a dagger plunged into his own chest. Whenever those words came to mind, a dull ache spread from his heart to his extremities. Yet, right before his eyes was a man trying to leap over the wall of talent through sheer willpower. He was someone who didn't care about God's intentions and believed entirely in himself.
‘My Lord,’ Audin prayed inwardly. ‘Look down upon him. May one who dreams of shining not perish by a futile, blind blade.’
Just as his heart was in his prayer, he too was highly displeased that someone had targeted Encrid. It would be far too tragic for such a man to die from a dagger in the back.
However, Audin had no intention of killing.
‘I can just break both their legs and take one of the leader's arms.’
He only needed to take everything else but their lives.
*
A single clash. The shock Encrid delivered was substantial. Yet, no one dared to cross the line.
‘So it’s not enough.’
How does one overwhelm an opponent with sheer force? By delivering consecutive shocks.
Encrid was aware of his position. He didn't necessarily have to step forward himself.
"Rem."
"Yeah?"
"Kill just three."
Even if it was an excuse to avoid drawing attention, this was a mission, and Encrid was the Squad Leader.
Rem stepped forward without a word of protest. Before the shock Encrid had delivered could even fade, Rem dashed forward, spinning his twin hand axes in his palms. He was fast enough to look like he had vanished into a gust of wind.
The vanished Rem reappeared in front of a thug with a vicious face wielding a spiked club. It was a scene witnessed many times before. Rem's arm whipped out like a lash. The axe blade at the end of that whip spat a flash of light.
Whoosh! Thud!
Whoosh! Crack!
Crunch!
The first axe strike severed the vicious-faced thug's neck. The second strike split the head of the man to his right. The last was to the left again. Twisting his waist, Rem slammed the butt of his axe handle into the neck of a fierce-eyed bastard.
One decapitated, one split-skulled, and the last with a broken neck.
Having finished, Rem swung his hand axes diagonally toward the ground to flick off the blood. Droplets splattered onto the dirt. Then, turning his back on the guild members, he strode back.
"That's three dead."
Encrid believed that two shocks would provide ample opportunity.
"Who's crossing over?"
It was the third time he had made the same offer. If they didn't listen now, there was nothing more he could do. He couldn't afford to show mercy to opponents trying to kill him. This was an era of killing or being killed. They had to know that to take a life, they must risk their own.
"...Were you the Border Guard?" the elegant-looking guild leader asked.
"No."
Encrid merely led a modest squad. It was just that the individuals making up this squad were highly unusual.
"We are an infantry battalion belonging to the Border Guard Cypress Division."
Holding his sword loosely, he revealed his affiliation. There was no reason to hide it. As a few of the thugs hesitated and prepared to lower their weapons, the guild leader glared fiercely.
"Go ahead, struggle to survive. See if I let you live!"
The words were directed at his own men. Encrid recalled what Krais had said—that Gilpin ruled through fear. If things went wrong, he would break their limbs and cut out their tongues.
"Don't get swept up in the atmosphere! Those bastards are human too. They die if you stab them! Can't you see they aren't even wearing proper armor? Kill them! No one survives a mobbing!"
Look at him trying to sound smart, Encrid thought.
In general, the leader was right. Overwhelming with numbers was the correct approach. Trained soldiers maximized their efficiency in group combat, but in small-scale skirmishes, even a thug could kill a soldier if they found a gap.
Of course, this didn't apply to knights or those who had transcended human limits. And it certainly didn't apply right now.
"Don't do it," Encrid warned.
The Troublemaker Squad was, from the very beginning, a bunch of bastards who fought as they pleased, completely outside the bounds of strategy and tactics. They were the kind of figures who fought joyously against overwhelming numbers on the battlefield and returned unscathed. For such men, being attacked by thirty thugs was an act of suicide.
"Leave them be. Some people don't shed a tear until they see the coffin."
"Brother, it seems the time has come for divine punishment."
"Just step back and watch."
For some reason, even Audin and Ragna showed enthusiasm.
Sachsen stepped forward without a word. With a sharp clang, he drew his sword and took a stride. As if impatient, a thief from the opposing side lunged out, swinging a broad-bladed scimitar. With a heavy whoosh, the blade fell toward Sachsen's head.
Sachsen raised his sword parallel to the scimitar, catching and deflecting the strike along his own steel before immediately slashing downward.
Rip.
The sword sliced through the opponent's abdomen. Though it didn't look like much force was behind it, it was enough to rip open the belly and expose the intestines.
"Agh..."
Spilling pink entrails, the man collapsed to his knees. That was the beginning.
"Only kill those who attack," Encrid commanded.
At those words, Rem simply swung his axes from where he stood. He was a human meat grinder. A man wielding a flail retreated as his weapon was severed in half, but an axe had already split his head. Spilling blood and brains, he fell flat on his back.
Ragna held a single arming sword, swinging it mechanically from top to bottom. It didn't even look like he was using a profound technique, yet with every downward strike, the corpses piled up. Skulls split, shoulders severed.
Audin held a club in each hand, deflecting incoming blades.
Clang-clang-clang-clang!
Audin's side was the loudest. Deflecting weapons, he closed the distance. His feet were incredibly fast—comparable even to Rem's. Once inside their guard, Audin swung his clubs with precision, shattering the enemies' legs.
Crack, crunch!
"Aaaaargh!"
The screams of those with broken legs echoed through the clearing. It was loud enough to make one wonder if the patrol guards would be dispatched. Fortunately, no one came.
Krais thought that was only natural.
‘Half an hour from the dugout.’
The stronghold they found at the end of the alley was on the outskirts of the territory. This manor was likely a luxury estate area invested in by wealthy merchant guilds. Usually, there were few people here. On top of that, the opponent was the Gilpin Guild. They must have bribed the higher-ups.
‘They probably cleared the area so no one would wander around.’
They likely thought it would be easier to handle their business without patrol guards passing by. Krais was neither flustered by the enemy's numbers nor threatened. He, too, was a member of the Troublemaker Squad. He knew the caliber of his comrades. Even Encrid, who had become a Senior Soldier, struggled against them.
‘Every single one of them is above the level of the Border Guard.’
The answer was clear: the enemy stood absolutely no chance. Krais's brain whirred as he planned for the future. He had even leaked information on purpose for this.
‘I'll deal with that friend later.’
Both the leaked information and the current situation were within Krais's calculations. Did anyone here notice? The Squad Leader might. Though he looked like an honest fool, the leader knew how to use his head. Rem might also know if there were clues. But Ragna and Audin? Unlikely. Sachsen wouldn't care about anything else as long as his own goal was met.
Meanwhile, the corpses continued to pile up. From Audin's side, screams echoed frantically.
"Aaaaargh!"
Audin didn't stop at breaking just one leg. He made sure to return and break the other as well. And he didn't forget to lecture them while doing so.
"I will not ask you to become saints. However, please refrain from living a life that harms your neighbors."
Since he was delivering a sermon they couldn't understand while shattering their bones, not a single bastard listened. Yet, Audin remained consistent.
Encrid's eyes were busy. At first, he was captivated by Sachsen's disciplined movements.
‘Orthodox Sword Forms.’
The basis was the Orthodox Sword Forms. Counterattacking by utilizing the opponent's sword, forcing them to move along a predetermined path. Mixed into it was the Swift Sword. A style where offense and defense became one—the beauty of the Orthodox Sword. Beyond simple forms, Sachsen's judgment was extraordinary. He chose the surest means to kill. It was a sword meant for slaughter.
There was much to learn.
Next, Rem caught his eye. Though he was merely striking down approaching enemies, the trajectory of his axes drew unexpected patterns.
‘How can he do that?’
It was like a sword that belonged nowhere. Rem's axe work was purely sensory. If one had to classify it, it was a Technique Sword. Encrid learned from this as well.
It was the same for Ragna's Heavy Sword Style. It showed the absolute limit of basic swordsmanship. If blocked half-heartedly, it broke straight through to strike the target, shattering skulls and severing shoulders.
And what of Audin's physical combat? Swordsmanship was fundamentally based on physical combat. Without using fists and feet, it couldn't be called proper martial arts. Mastering close-quarters combat was an absolute prerequisite. From that perspective, there was the most to learn from Audin.
Encrid engraved the process of shattering legs with two short clubs into his mind. Movements he wouldn't have understood in the past were now being stored in his head. Forgetting even where he was, Encrid was busy stealing techniques by watching the four of them.
Though executing them with his own body was a different matter, there was a great deal to learn.
The fight did not last long. Those who lost their will to fight emerged one after another. Meanwhile, Sachsen, uncharacteristically, plowed a straight path forward toward the guild leader.
Closing the distance, Sachsen abruptly swung his sword in a high horizontal slash. The guild leader pulled the handle of his cane upward. It was a sword stick—a blade hidden inside a cane.
With a sharp ting, the hidden blade blocked Sachsen's sword. Sparks flew. The two thugs guarding the guild leader's back tried to join in.
"Don't do it."
"Let them fight."
Rem and Ragna, who had approached unnoticed, spoke. The two guards looked at each other. Should we attack?
Their eyes turned to the path Rem and Ragna had walked. It was a path of blood. Only corpses lay strewn about. The only survivors were those who had pissed their pants in fear or those who had the sense to refrain from attacking.
The two guards quietly lowered their weapons. They slid their daggers back into their sheaths and knelt. It was a posture of surrender.
"You bastards!" the guild leader roared.
But what could they do? The most important thing in the world was one's own life. Only those who had been swept up in the moment and attacked were to be pitied.
Sachsen remained expressionless. His brown eyes, ringed with red, locked onto the guild leader.
"I surrender!" the bastard shouted.
Sachsen did not listen.
"I said I surrender! Why are you going this far? If you want money, I'll give you money!"
Clash-clash-clash-clash-clash!
While the man was running his mouth, Sachsen's sword accelerated. He struck the sword stick five times in rapid succession. Sparks flew through the winter night.
Amidst the darkness, the torches, the corpses, and the groans of the dying, Sachsen's voice rang out.
"I don't like your face."
What kind of bullshit is this? That was the guild leader's final thought.
Sachsen's sword tore through the man's expensive clothes and sliced his neck.
Slash.
A chilling sound. The guild leader died with his eyes wide open in resentment. He still had so much to say. Did they even know who was backing him? How many Krona had he poured into those powerful bastards? It was unfair.
But those who died by the blade were always full of resentment.
Sachsen lowered his blood-stained sword. All fighting had ended. Encrid closed and opened his eyes, reflecting on the movements of his squad. It was time to wrap things up.
Against the backdrop of the freezing winter air and the flickering torches, Encrid took a step forward. He stood in the center, where shadows gathered and gazes converged.
Having drawn everyone's eyes, Encrid spoke.
"Who's crossing over?"
A single phrase was enough. Everyone who survived dropped their weapons.