Chapter 118
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 118
Chapter Title: Battle of Soelden Plains (8)
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Zeke swung his flame-wreathed sword at me even now, shouting.
"Die, you brat!"
"Would you die if you were in my shoes?"
Just moments ago, I had no idea how to deal with it.
I wasn't about to give up and accept death, but I was at a complete loss on how to overcome that damned flame-wreathed sword...
'If my hunch is right, he's the one who's going to die.'
Spotting a lifeline that could save me if I grabbed it, the frustration in my chest melted away, and even my depleting stamina felt like it was surging back.
Why else do marathon runners suddenly find untapped strength when they spot the finish line, powering through the final lap at full sprint?
Was something like that stirring in me too?
Zeke started pressing me harder, clearly trying to settle things before his aura ran out.
The speed of his swings picked up, the weight behind each stroke grew heavier, and his intent to kill sharpened like a blade.
Every time he slashed from above, below, or diagonally, trails of flame lingered in the sword's wake...
If I weren't locked in a life-or-death struggle with this bastard, I'd have thought it looked cool enough to mistake for top-tier CG effects.
'The problem is, I have to kill this fucker to survive.'
"Just die already, you brat!"
I shot back at him.
"Would you die if you were in my shoes?"
Even in the thick of it, I kept my emotions in check and began meticulously observing Zeke Vespa, the enemy right in front of me.
His arm movements, his expression, his footwork, his shoulders, the twitch of his muscles, his breathing.
By grasping all of it, I could predict his next move about 0.1 seconds faster than just tracking his sword with my eyes.
Some might scoff at a mere 0.1 seconds, but back on Earth, in sprints like the 100-meter dash, that split-second difference decided first from second place.
In this world, it meant the difference between life and death.
'Right-side slash this time?'
I ducked low to evade Zeke's sword.
"You brat, dodging my sword."
"One dodge and you talk big."
I followed up by slamming my fist hard into his breastplate.
It was the first meaningful hit I'd landed on him since he started swinging that flame sword.
"Useless, you brat."
But his armor was damn sturdy; it didn't seem to do much.
"Pay for angering me with your life!"
Zeke's attacks grew even fiercer.
His flame-wreathed sword came at me fast and sharp like a gale, and the flames burned hotter than before.
What had been a roaring bonfire now bordered on a pillar of fire, if I exaggerated just a bit.
'Mid-tier experts can pull off ultimate moves stronger than this?'
How much more powerful did it get at advanced, pinnacle expert, or master levels? I couldn't even imagine it with my current strength.
The endless path ahead made my heart race.
'Of course, I have to beat this bastard first before dreaming big.'
Was it from blocking that pillar-of-fire-level blade multiple times?
Pain like burns started flaring up all over my body.
"Ugh, fuck..."
Zeke caught my grunt and sneered.
"Die, you brat!"
And just like that, he moved exactly as I'd hoped.
A big overhead strike aimed straight at my neck.
The most basic, simplest, and thus most powerful slash.
But also the easiest to read, with plenty of openings if you looked for them.
'Can't miss this chance.'
I gritted my teeth and dove into his guard.
Then I channeled my aura into the ring, activating the magic inside.
'Magic tools sure are a rip-off, but damn if they're useful in a pinch.'
"Protection!"
As I shouted the activation word, a blue shield of mana materialized in front of me.
Zeke, mid-swing, gaped in shock at the sudden oddity under his raised arm.
"What the fuck is this?!"
The mana shield from that upscale jewelry shop ring wasn't quite tough enough to fully block an aura-clad sword...
But it was solid enough to halt his swinging arm...
"Movement... stopped..."
I poured aura into my sword and thrust straight through his neck in a line.
"Die now, you fucker."
Pierced through the throat, he couldn't even scream his death throes, just spewed blood from his mouth and died.
With Zeke dead, the surrounding Black Brothers freaked out.
"Fuck, the captain's dead!"
"What do we do? What the hell?!"
"I don't know, fuck! Just deal with the bastards charging us!"
Shocked as they were, they still fought desperately to survive.
But with their mercenary corps' backbone—the captain—gone...
Chaos spread through their ranks.
Some tossed their weapons and surrendered, figuring it was all over now that the captain was dead.
"I surrender, fuck! We're mercenaries too—sell us as slaves, don't kill us!"
Others seized the chance to turn tail and flee.
"Run for your life, fuck. Time for the 36th stratagem: beat it."
Deserters usually got caught the moment they turned, but with the chaos, some managed to escape unscathed.
We weren't so free that we'd chase down every runaway...
'Go far and live well.'
I silently thanked those who'd boosted our morale by deserting mid-battle and let them go.
"Martin Meyer's Hundred-Man Squad—no, White Beard Mercenary Corps! All units, smash those rotten mercenaries' skulls!"
Hearing my order, my men cheered and charged to bash the enemies' backs.
Some chased down the cowards fleeing from behind and stabbed them.
"If you're gonna run, fight to the end!"
Those confident in their skills wove through the panicking foes, kindly putting them down to calm their flailing.
"This time I'll definitely get promoted!"
The Black Brothers Mercenary Corps strained every nerve to escape somehow.
Some ditched their weapons to signal they weren't resisting, while others kept theirs but ran all the same.
"Fuck, how the hell do we fight and win that?! Run!"
And then a massive cheer erupted from our side.
"White Beard Mercenary Corps Captain Dalton von Prime has beheaded Black Brothers Mercenary Corps Vice Captain Fabio Daz!"
The already crumbling Black Brothers collapsed even faster at the news.
Even those who'd been half-ass fighting turned and bolted.
"Mercy! Fuck, we're done for!"
Not just the grunts—even mid-level guys ditched their pride and fled.
"It's not the winner who's strong; the survivor is!"
I let out a hollow laugh at that.
"The one who wins and survives is strong. Surviving doesn't guarantee strength."
Otto, who'd been fighting beside me, approached covered in blood, shrugging his shoulders.
"Hundred-Man Squad Leader, what now? Pursue?"
Our corps had already shone in this battle, and those idiots were shattered.
No need to chase them down and earn a rep as brutal among other mercenary bands based out of the Rappenfalz Empire.
'If I were a noble tied to some nation, it'd be different.'
"Can't you see our guys are beat? Even if Medici Republic's Supreme Commander throws a fit demanding pursuit, we're not going."
"True, no point overdoing it and exhausting the men to death. Fine dying squeezed dry by a woman, but not from chasing and keeling over..."
Right on cue, Dalton signaled with his flag: halt here and reorganize.
"Stay combat-ready; enemies could counterattack anytime."
Following the order, our corps went on standby. That's when the Red Rose guys came panting toward me.
Their apparent captain approached, glancing between my helmet and the head of 'Zeke' in my hand.
He stepped up and asked,
"Are you by any chance Martin Meyer, Hundred-Man Squad Leader of the White Beard Mercenary Corps?"
A mercenary captain using polite speech with a mere hundred-man leader like me felt odd, but since I'd saved his near-wiped unit...
'Makes sense.'
"Yes, that's me."
"I'm Garibaldi Piemonte. I'm the captain of this corps—and the brother of that fool who insulted you last time."
"I see."
"Anyway, I sincerely apologize for last time. And thank you for saving our corps from total annihilation this time. I'll never forget this favor."
...... We'd fight if we met as enemies, but in this war, I'd gained reliable allies?
"No need. Captain Dalton's the one who sent the reinforcements. Thank him."
"I'll do that later. Right now, I need to hunt stragglers and rack up merits."
With that, Garibaldi turned and chased his targets. I ordered my men,
"Stand by here until further orders. Rest up, fuck..."
And that day, we claimed a hard-fought victory.