Chapter 7: Three Threes
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 7: Three Threes
Encrid eventually stopped laughing. He couldn't keep it up forever.
Seeing this, Rem snatched Encrid’s wrist, pulled a bandage from his shirt, and wrapped it tightly around the wound.
“Stay behind me today. With your hands in that state, you're just asking to die. If the platoon leader finds out you ended up like this from sparring, that bastard will lose his goddamn mind.”
“I'm fine.”
“Like hell you are. I’m telling you, if you go out to the battlefield with those hands, you’ll die. Is your dream for the future suicide? If so, I won't stop you.”
He wasn't wrong. Heading into a fray with hands in this condition was a perfect recipe for death.
However, it wasn't a big deal to Encrid. If he died, he’d simply die again. Then, the hundred and twenty-fifth morning would dawn once more.
‘Not that I’m sick of it, but...’
...it was time to bring this repeating "today" to an end.
Encrid hadn't just been training his swordsmanship all this time. While repeating this single day a hundred and twenty-four times, he had also devised ways to navigate the events of "today."
When an ordinary soldier survived their first battle, people often said they had picked up a coin dropped by the Goddess of Fortune. It meant that if one lacked outstanding talent, luck played a massive role in keeping them alive.
By Encrid's calculations, he would need that kind of luck several times over to survive.
‘But I can't just rely on luck.’
Encrid didn't need to. He knew exactly what would happen on the battlefield, especially in his immediate vicinity.
Therefore, he could prepare. He could be ready.
On his hundred and twenty-fourth run, Encrid had died once again, his throat pierced by a thrust. His palms had been in such tatters that he couldn't even properly clash blades. Still, refusing to waste even a single day, he had etched the enemy soldier's thrust into his memory. He had controlled his breathing and held on until the very end.
He had done exactly that.
“That must hurt. A mercy.”
Hearing the enemy soldier's voice, he had endured the burning pain of the blade slicing through his throat. Feeling something caught on his tongue just before he died, he had spat it out. It was a shattered molar.
It had broken because he had clenched his teeth so hard against the pain.
Yes. It wasn't tedious. In fact, it was almost enjoyable because he spent each repeating day so meaningfully.
But no matter how he justified it...
‘I still don't want to fucking die.’
There was no way dying could actually be pleasant. Especially when he had to die at the hands of some perverted bastard who enjoyed his victim's agony.
If he could end it, he would. Encrid had resolved to do so the moment he realized he was trapped in this single day.
And then.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The hundred and twenty-fifth morning dawned.
*
Getting up from his bed, Encrid first picked up Rem's boots and shook them out.
“What are you doing? Those are mine.”
“I know. They stink. If we threw these at the enemy, the foot odor alone would kill fifty of them.”
“Seeing how cranky you are first thing in the morning, did you have a good dream or something?”
With a soft thud, a bug fell out of Rem's boot. Encrid crushed the insect under his foot.
“I saw it crawl in this morning.”
“...Well, thanks.”
Rem chuckled and pulled his boots on.
Leaving Rem behind, Encrid pulled back the tent flap and stepped outside. Since dawn had just broken, the blue of the early morning blended with the yellow of the rising sun. The night watchmen on the final shift were busy banging on pots to wake the camp.
Soldiers who had just woken up rubbed their eyes and grumbled, while others silently went about their duties.
“Damn it, stop banging that. My head is splitting.”
“Then who told you to drink yourself to sleep last night?”
The voices came from the tent behind them.
“Shut the hell up. If they catch us drinking, we're getting disciplined.”
“Bullshit.”
It was a conversation between the last watchman and an ally who had gotten wasted the night before. Listening to them, Encrid glanced back to look at the face of the drunk soldier.
He was a Decurion from another unit, a squad leader. And that fellow had a good mother. On the sixty-sixth day, just to remember the occasion, Encrid had struck up a conversation with him, pretending to be friendly.
“Aren't you on morning duty?”
“You do it for me.”
While looking back, Encrid suddenly spoke to Rem, who had followed him out.
“Why should I?”
“You could do it just this once. I've covered for you more than five times already.”
“You've been keeping count? How petty.”
“Yeah, only yours.”
“Why only mine?”
“Because you're annoying.”
Over the course of a hundred and twenty-five runs, he hadn't been able to leave a single scratch on that bastard Rem. Not that he resented him; if anything, he only felt gratitude.
In any case, Rem would do it. Leaving the morning duty to Rem was a pattern that yielded the highest survival rate and allowed Encrid to start the day in peak condition, as proven over many repetitions.
“Fine, fine. Damn it, I'll do it.”
Encrid moved his body to warm up, ensuring he wouldn't shiver in the chilly morning air. Even as he stretched and twisted, he did not leave the front of the tent.
One by one, his squad members stepped outside.
First was Sachsen. He was one of the more diligent members. Making eye contact, Sachsen nodded in greeting. Encrid nodded back casually.
After him, several others filed out in succession. Encrid grabbed the squad member who came out last, his eyes half-closed with sleep.
“Big-Eyes.”
“Hmm?”
Nickname: Big-Eyes. Real name: Krais Allman.
He was a squad member with pretty, delicate features. And though the 444th Squad was said to be a gathering of troublemakers, they possessed outstanding combat power—except for Krais, who was the sole member with below-average skills. To be more precise, he was someone who would get beaten to a pulp even if he fought Encrid.
“Yawn, what is it this early? Waking up early is torture for high-class talent like me.”
Krais said, yawning so wide his mouth seemed ready to tear. Though he hadn't even wiped the sleep from his eyes or splashed water on his face, he had a remarkably handsome face—the kind of looks that would catch the eye of men interested in other men.
“Get me a few things.”
At Encrid's words, Krais tilted his head. He was puzzled, as Encrid wasn't the type to make such requests.
“Did you pick up smoking? Or is it booze? No women, though. Even I can't smuggle one in at a time like this.”
Krais was the unit's black market dealer, capable of procuring almost anything.
“Do I look like the type to ask for a woman?”
“No. Then what do you need?”
“Five throwing knives, some oiled leather, a large needle, deerskin gloves, and lastly, about ten white horse flowers and a handful of alum.”
Encrid gestured with his hands to indicate the size of the leather. It was large enough to wrap around an adult male's torso.
“...I have absolutely no idea what you're planning to do with all this.”
“So, can you get them or not?”
Krais stared at Encrid for a moment, then nodded.
“There's nothing I can't get. But even if you're the squad leader, it won't be free. You know that, right?”
“How much?”
“I'll need seventeen silver coins.”
What a swindler.
Five throwing knives would cost only one or two silver coins at a blacksmith's. Of course, if iron prices surged, it could exceed three, but that was generally the case. Moreover, whatever Krais procured probably wouldn't even be made of pure steel. Still, he would at least bring back usable blades.
High-quality leather was worth whatever the seller demanded, but it wasn't like Krais was sourcing leather meant for a famous workshop. The only items here that actually cost a decent amount were the needle and the deerskin gloves. For those, he would definitely have to pay at least three silver coins, no matter how cheap.
As for the white horse flowers, they could be bought for a few copper coins in any village. And alum could be obtained without much expense if there was a leather workshop nearby.
Encrid was quite knowledgeable about these things himself, but he didn't argue. First of all, they were inside a military camp, meaning these were items difficult to obtain without Krais. Second, the price of seventeen coins was an awkward, non-rounded number. That was likely the fair price Krais had calculated.
And there was another reason.
“Can I have them right after breakfast?”
“You do realize that basically means telling me to skip breakfast, right?”
“You never eat properly anyway.”
“Hmph, true. But, well, as far as I know, the squad leader doesn't have much of this, does he?”
Krais curled his thumb and index finger into a circle.
“I don't have any right now.”
He saved his pay sometimes, but recently he had spent it all to get a new sword. He was indeed flat broke. He would receive his pay once the battle was over, but asking for it now would get him treated like a deserter.
“Tsk, see, this makes things difficult.”
At Krais's words, Encrid smiled. It was the relaxed composure of someone who had a solid plan.
“Lend me five copper coins.”
Krais didn't usually trust people easily. But if that person was Encrid, the story was a bit different.
‘Because he's the squad leader.’
From what he had seen, Encrid was not a man to do anything foolish. And above all, he was the man who had saved his life.
Krais pulled out five copper coins and handed them over. Encrid rolled the clinking coins in his hand and headed straight to the adjacent tent.
Stepping inside, he saw men who had already set up a game early in the morning. It was a dice game, gathered around by the last watchman and three or four guys who preferred gambling over sleep. The surprised eyes that looked up at Encrid quickly recognized his face and turned puzzled.
“What's this? If it isn't the 444th Squad Leader.”
“You're up early.”
Krais watched this and clicked his tongue. He hated gambling. He hated getting swindled and cleaned out, but even without that, he despised the very idea of leaving his hard-earned money to luck. Multiplying it was fine, but once you got a taste of it, you would fall into addiction. And if you lost, the pouch in your hand would vanish into thin air.
In Krais's eyes, gambling was a game played only by fools. Yet Encrid was joining such a game.
“Can I join?”
“This game?”
It was the last watchman of the neighboring tent who spoke. He rolled his eyes, glanced at his fellow gamblers, and quickly nodded.
“Sure.”
A sucker was always welcome.
As Encrid went to squat down, Krais grabbed his collar.
“Are you planning to throw away my five copper coins here?”
Though sleep still crusted his eyes, Krais's large, bright eyes stared at Encrid.
‘He must have broken quite a few hearts.’
Thinking so, Encrid grabbed Krais's wrist and pushed it away.
“Once borrowed, it's my money.”
Saying so, Encrid finally took his seat. The gathered gamblers shifted their hips to make room.
“Do you even know how to play dice?” asked the soldier who was rolling dice carved from pig bone inside a wooden cup.
“If the same number comes up, it's double. If you bet on high or low, you get back what you bet. Right?”
He had only ever glanced at it over someone's shoulder, but he had seen it a hundred and twenty-five times. There was no way he wouldn't know.
There were three dice in total. The maximum sum was 18. Thus, one simply had to call high or low, relative to 9. The guy sitting in the middle was the dealer. He rolled the dice, and the others placed bets.
“Then let's start the first round.”
It was a quick game to pass the time before breakfast. The stakes weren't high—a minimum of five copper coins and a maximum of two silver coins.
Encrid bet his five copper coins.
“Low.”
“High.”
“Low.”
“Low.”
“High.”
“High.”
“Low.”
In less than ten minutes, Encrid held two silver coins in his hand. The charm of a dice game was its speed—the thrill of rapid-fire wins and losses in a short span of time. And that was exactly what they did.
At first, Encrid had memorized the numbers that came up just for fun. Would the dice really show the same numbers every day? Even though today repeated, the events around him would subtly change.
So he knew. The dice rolls were always the same.
“It seems the Goddess of Fortune didn't just drop a coin; she blew you a kiss.”
Once the silver coins in Encrid's hand exceeded ten, the soldier acting as the dealer spoke.
“Are you cheating?”
Normally, another soldier sitting nearby would have said this, but the dealer said it first.
“Cheating? No way. I'm just a bit lucky today. It feels like the Goddess is whispering in my ear.”
Encrid brushed off their suspicious glares casually. They couldn't really complain; the dealer was the one rolling the dice. And even if they accused him of rigging it, this was just too absurd. Moreover, from midway through, some had subtly bet on the same side as Encrid and made a profit.
“Cheating? You're the one rolling the dice with your own wrist.”
“I thought he was casting some damn spell.”
“As if.”
“On other days, you'd keep playing even if you won like crazy, right? No stopping just because your luck is bad.”
A soldier who had made some money thanks to Encrid chuckled. The dealer grunted in agreement, rolled a few more rounds, and then spoke.
“Let's make this the last round. We're out of time.”
Before they knew it, breakfast time was approaching. Encrid rolled ten silver coins in his hand. He had started with five copper coins, and now he had this. It was all the money of the soldier acting as the dealer.
“It was fun. Since it's the last round, will you accept a ten-coin bet? I want to bet it all and head out.”
The maximum bet was originally five silver coins. The dealer frowned. Looking at Encrid's accuracy today, there was no reason to accept it.
“Then I'll bet on triples and leave,” Encrid spoke before the other could reply.
What were the odds of three dice showing the same number? Even the soldier rolling the dice had only seen it a few times in his life, and never once in an actual game. He had only seen it when messing around by himself.
Therefore, to the dealer, Encrid's bet sounded like a joke—a way to spit back all the silver he had won before leaving. At least, that was how it sounded to his ears.
From behind, Krais nudged Encrid's back. Krais mouthed the words: Are you crazy?
No, not at all. Encrid wasn't crazy.
“Ten silver coins on triples.”
“...Fine.”
Rattle, rattle!
The soldier shook the cup and slammed it down loudly onto the ground. He did so to prevent any mishap that might occur from rolling too gently.
“Let's see.”
With an expectant smile, the dealer opened the cup.
“...Holy shit.”
“He's possessed by the Goddess of Fortune. Absolutely possessed.”
“Motherfucker, how is this possible?”
Everyone gathered was astonished. Except for Encrid.
Three threes.
The dice showed the same number.