Chapter 89: Reflecting on the Past, Leaving No Regrets
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 89: Reflecting on the Past, Leaving No Regrets
"Form up!"
The commander’s shout rang out across the field.
Approaching them were wolf demonic beasts—eight in total.
Demonic beasts and monsters were a constant threat in these lands. The Border Guard, in particular, oversaw a territory where merchant caravans and peddlers traveled incessantly, making the local authorities proactive in clearing out any nearby threats.
"Why do they have to be so active in the winter?" a soldier grumbled, raising his long spear. To Encrid’s ears, it sounded like a deliberate attempt to ease the mounting tension.
Following orders, twenty soldiers formed a tight phalanx against the approaching pack. Standard protocol for dealing with demonic beasts was simple: overwhelm them with numbers. The platoon leader was a stickler for the basics.
And Encrid found that incredibly frustrating.
This is a first for me.
He was referring to the sudden, gnawing urge to charge forward—a craving for real combat that mere sparring could never satisfy. He wanted a blood-soaked battle, the time to process what he gained from it, and the momentum of taking another step forward.
That was what Encrid truly desired. Not standing in a line with a long spear, tentatively poking at the hide of a beast.
This was useless. It was so tedious he felt bored. Normally, a man’s knees would shake at the sight of a demonic beast, but...
Rem, who was being uncharacteristically cooperative today, chuckled beside him. "You look like a man starved of satisfaction."
Normally, Encrid would have told him to focus on stabbing a beast’s eye instead of looking at his face, but his sheer frustration made him speak his mind. "Is it that obvious?"
"You’ve become the nail that sticks out, Squad Leader," Rem chuckled, speaking in riddles before adding, "Didn't you know? There's a very fine line between being extraordinary and being crazy."
Encrid hadn't considered that.
What would happen if he leaped right into the middle of those eight demonic beasts? Assuming Rem had his back, it felt like the fight would end much faster than twenty men poking with spears to kill them one by one.
At this rate, when would they ever clear out the monsters in the area? It felt like a waste of time.
Because he had never once neglected his phalanx training, his body naturally fulfilled his duty, maintaining the formation. Yet, the stifling frustration remained. Rem’s constant chuckling felt like a hand pushing him from behind.
Why did I even tag along just to do this?
Encrid thrust his long spear forward. The powerful tip grazed the hide of a beast’s forepaw.
"Grrr!"
Reacting to the pain, the wolf demonic beast bared its fangs. Seeing the opening, the platoon leader aimed for its head and thrust his spear, but the cunning beast leaped backward, dodging the blow.
Watching this, Encrid forced himself to think of random thoughts. If he didn't, he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to draw his sword and hack them to pieces.
The panther he had ended up raising crossed his mind.
Esther.
Not long after he had returned from splitting open the head of that mad mage in the sewers, the Lake Panther had crawled back, completely exhausted. She reeked of a musty odor, as if she had been hunting the rats roaming the depths. Perhaps she had been too enthusiastic; she had collapsed on the floor, panting heavily.
Feeling sorry for her, he had personally soaked some jerky in water, tore it into pieces, and fed her. Esther had eagerly devoured every bite.
What on earth has she been up to?
Snarl!
A break in his thoughts. A wolf demonic beast had closed into spear range. Pushing thoughts of Esther aside, Encrid thrust his long spear at the approaching wolf’s head.
Thunk.
Part of its scalp tore open, spraying blood.
"Hold your ground!" the platoon leader shouted.
The unit maintained its distance, thrusting their spearheads to keep the beasts at bay. This was not a fight that would end quickly. The lunging pack retreated after being pricked a few times. This was the correct way. This was the textbook method.
But it was still incredibly frustrating.
Encrid looked at the platoon leader. He had a clean-cut look and a solid, well-built frame. Was that fellow from the 2nd Company or the 3rd?
Harboring his frustration, Encrid kept manipulating his long spear. It could hardly be called masterful; it was just thrusting and pulling back. It felt like wearing clothes that didn't fit. The spear just didn't feel right in his hands. If he had specialized in the spear, he probably would have been even worse with it than he was with a sword.
Ragna had once told him: "Whether it's a sword or a spear, the weapon that fits your hand can vary."
Normally, knights were encouraged to master a variety of weapons. Encrid had learned the basics, but only the sword felt like a natural extension of his arm.
The sword.
Only the sword. From the very first moment he held one, it felt like meeting a lifelong friend. The thrill, the joy, the anticipation. His pounding heart, the warmth of the honed steel.
Ah, I want to use a sword.
He wanted to put the experience he had gained in the mage’s den to use. He wanted to swing a blade, not a long spear.
"I'll grant your wish," Rem muttered beside him. By the time Encrid turned to look, Rem was already charging forward.
"We'll be here all day at this rate!" Rem roared gleefully.
He charged with a boisterous shout, dirt kicking up with every step. His running form looked wilder than the demonic beasts themselves.
"That crazy bastard!" the platoon leader roared in anger. Maintaining the phalanx was the fundamental rule; if the formation broke, the lives of every soldier were put in jeopardy.
Charging out was a mistake. Encrid knew that. But...
We can just kill them all.
He couldn't hold back anymore. He literally could not suppress the desire to swing his sword and put his new insights to the test. Encrid closed his eyes inwardly, relying on his sixth sense rather than rational judgment.
Following his instinct, Encrid threw down his long spear, kicked off the ground, and sprinted forward.
"No! Why are you going, too?!"
The platoon leader’s shout faded behind him. Rem’s erratic behavior was expected, but Encrid’s was not. The commander was utterly flabbergasted.
"Having fun?" Rem asked, noticing Encrid catching up as he began swinging his twin axes.
The two blades drew arcs through the air. The end of those arcs was slaughter. His first strike split the skull of a wolf charging head-on, and his second, a horizontal slash, shattered the jaw of another beast leaping at his arm. The twin axes were like the blades of an executioner’s block.
"A little," Encrid admitted.
Encrid drew his sword. He unleashed a wide horizontal slash in a single motion. A lunging demonic beast had its foreleg severed mid-leap.
"Yelp!"
Even for a demonic beast, the whimper sounded just like a dog's. Encrid pulled back his arm and brought his blade down in a vertical strike, splitting the wolf’s head open.
Thwack!
Pulling back the sword, he slammed his sword-hilt-clenched fist into the head of another wolf rushing him from the side.
Crack!
The beast took the blow and went rolling sideways. There were only eight of them.
I don't know when I started referring to eight demonic beasts as 'only,' but...
Regardless, to the current Encrid, they posed no threat. Axes split skulls, and a sword sliced through the pack. The arming sword in his hand lacked the satisfying weight of a longsword, but it wasn't half bad.
Of the eight beasts, one had died to the phalanx. Of the remaining seven, four fell to Rem’s axes, and three were cleaved by Encrid’s sword.
It was an outstanding display of skill—proof enough that he hadn't earned the rank of Senior Soldier for nothing.
"Damn, they fight ridiculously well," one of the soldiers muttered in awe.
The platoon leader should have been furious. He really should have, but he was left speechless. They really did fight ridiculously well. While the phalanx was doctrine, utilizing extraordinary martial power was also a key quality of a commander.
Instead of getting angry, the platoon leader chose efficiency. Strictly speaking, the two had committed insubordination, but the leader valued Encrid’s sheer capability. He had seen him in passing before, and back then, the guy hadn't seemed like much. When had he developed this level of skill? Had he truly improved overnight, as the rumors claimed?
He couldn't be sure. He could only judge by the results.
He's beyond a Senior Soldier.
He would have believed it if someone told him Encrid was one of the guardsmen known as the Frontier Slaughterers.
"You two." Instead of reprimanding them, the platoon leader decided to give them a proper battlefield. If they wanted to fight, he would let them. "There's a place where some troublesome demonic beasts have appeared. Go there."
"Is that so?" Standing amidst the dead beasts, Sorcery Breaker Encrid nodded.
At his nonchalant attitude, some of the soldiers let out a cheer. With the beasts wiped out, their mission here was complete, and they would get a brief moment to rest. No one enjoyed risking their lives against demonic beasts. You had to be extraordinary, or you had to be crazy.
"We are returning to the territory to regroup."
As the unit prepared to move, Encrid glanced at Rem. Rem, casually wiping blood off his axes, grinned. "Do you owe me one now?"
"Owe you? Keep dreaming."
Though he spoke dismissively, he felt a sense of relief thanks to Rem. Yet, his yearning was still far from satisfied.
It's not enough.
It was a thirst that a handful of wolves could never quench. The fire ignited in Encrid’s chest blazed fiercely.
"Let's go. He told us to go somewhere else," Rem said.
A few soldiers approached and lightly tapped Encrid on the chest. "Thanks to you, we get to head back early."
The grinning soldier’s face looked familiar. Encrid searched his memory—he was one of the men from the dice game during his very first loop of "today." The man pressed a piece of jerky wrapped in cloth into Encrid’s hand.
"Try some. It's absolutely killer," he said, turning away.
Others offered warm, appreciative glances. A soldier who fought well was always valued. On top of that, Encrid had an easygoing personality, unlike Rem. Everyone kept a distance from Rem, partly due to his barbarian background and partly due to his habit of picking fights.
"We fought together, but the treatment is completely different. What is this, discrimination?"
"It's karma," Encrid spoke as he shared the jerky. He took a bite. This is different. It was delicious—tender, perfectly seasoned, with a subtly sweet marinade.
"What the? Why is this so good?" Rem asked.
"I know. I'll have to ask him for the recipe later."
Encrid adjusted his gloves. The thick night-watch gloves wrapped snugly around his hands. They were one of the items belonging to the mage from the sewers. When he had punched the wolf, the recoil felt far lighter than expected. Though the mage’s deeds were unsettling, the gear was excellent.
The leather breastplate he wore beneath his gambeson was equally reliable. It was the very item that had protected him from the mage’s spells. With reliable equipment and his newly gained insights, Encrid’s fighting spirit burned bright.
"Let's go."
Following orders, Encrid and Rem moved to the next area, a half-day’s journey south. They headed toward the staging ground where allied forces had gathered.
"Looks like this is the place."
They found a fully established camp. They wouldn't have built a camp to this extent unless the situation was serious. Above all, a massive commotion was underway.
"Screeech!"
A shriek erupted from overhead. A hideous monster made its presence known. Below, several soldiers lay writhing—some with their eyes gouged out, others with deep gashes across their bodies.
"My eyes! My eyes!"
"Fuck! Kill it! Kill it!"
Crossbowmen fired into the sky, but the bolts sliced through empty air, failing to hit a single target.
"Kaaah!"
The monster’s screech was a horrific din. Directly beneath the flying monsters, a platoon of heavy infantry from the 1st Company had formed a wall.
"Hold your ground!" the company commander shouted.
The monsters circling overhead were harpies—creatures with the upper body of a woman, wings instead of arms, and the lower body of an eagle. Crimson feathers fluttered in the air. They possessed the features of human women, but they evoked only a sense of profound disgust.
At the sight of them, Encrid’s body momentarily froze. He was reminded of the past, when he had been forced to turn his back on the deaths of his comrades. Against harpies, the desperate struggles of mercenaries had meant nothing. Death after death, followed by flight.
Screeech!
The shrieks rattled the mind. There were more than five of them circling.
"I figured there'd be something fun going on. You alright?" Rem asked. At that moment, a harpy swooped down toward the two newcomers.
Whoosh!
It was a dive that sliced through the wind. Its eagle-like talons were as hard as steel; if you only lost an eye, you were lucky. Otherwise, your skull would be torn open.
At the sight of the descending harpy, Encrid reflected on his past—but only for a fleeting second. He did not let his reflections turn into regret. Instead, he poured his strength into his stride. That was how Encrid lived his life.
Shring.
He drew his sword.
In an instant, the illusion of time slowing down washed over him. His mind traced a path connecting points and lines, and his sixth sense flared with warning. The boldness granted by the Beast’s Heart surged through him, infusing his body with power.
Matching the trajectory of the falling harpy, within the slowed flow of time only he could perceive, Encrid’s sword moved.