CHAPTER 9

It wasn't a place for explaining grand strategies, just to give the order to prepare for battle.

The command to be ready was all.

As soon as Encrid heard the order, he headed towards the rear barracks.

By now, the sewing master who had sent a replacement to the squad leader's assembly under the excuse of being sick would have finished making the items.

"You didn't give me the thread."

Indeed, it was so.

The sturdy leather hand, knee, and elbow guards greeted Encrid in a decent shape.

"Thread?"

Feigning ignorance, the squad leader who liked alcohol snorted.

"What do you expect me to do if you only give me the leather?"

What else?

'You'll unravel the blanket thread, twist it well, and make it yourself.'

This wasn't the first time.

Even without giving him any thread, this guy, who had received the squirming gift, managed it well on his own.

"I forgot."

"You don't look like you forgot at all."

Even with a hangover, he had a keen sense.

"No, I really forgot."

"Hmph."

He didn't look convinced. But what did it matter?

Encrid gathered up the leather guards.

The stitching was meticulous. Although Encrid had made them himself before, this guy's work was certainly of higher quality.

He was satisfied.

"I feel deceived."

"Good job."

He patted the shoulder once and returned to the barracks.

As soon as Encrid returned, he only mentioned that there would be a battle in the afternoon, then sat in his place and busily moved his hands.

Srrrng.

Encrid drew his sword, holding the deer leather gloves in both hands, and cut them back and forth.

After cutting the leather almost halfway, he laid it out long and started crafting a sheath for the throwing knife.

Finally, he cut the end of the leather into several long strands with the sword, tied it into a knot, and wore it like a belt.

It wasn't the first time he had done this.

Having repeated it dozens of times, Encrid was familiar with it.

His hands moved without hesitation.

Seeing this, Rem poked his head over his shoulder and asked.

"What are you doing? You have a small knife, why are you using that?"

"Just testing if the blade is sharp."

"You have good hands. Your sword skills should be just as good."

This guy always had to stab people with his words.

It wasn't a hurtful comment.

It was something said lightly even when his skills weren't improving and he was making no progress.

Encrid ignored him.

"After all the trouble I went through to get it for you, you tear it up just to make a sheath?"

Krais poked his head over the other shoulder.

'Why are these guys so interested in me?'

Maybe their heads were messed up and they thought of him as their real mom.

'That's kind of horrifying.'

"Because I used it all."

"I don't know what you're thinking. Did you eat something bad somewhere?"

"Come to think of it, you've been running around all day. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

He brushed it off lightly. After wiping the blade once more, Encrid sat down quietly and closed his eyes.

Then he recalled the countless battlefields he had experienced.

The events flashed by like a panorama.

It was the battlefield he had faced one hundred and twenty-five times.

Encrid repeated it in his mind.

Preparation was for survival, not for improving swordsmanship.

'The battlefield isn't a swordsmanship training ground.'

Even if his swordsmanship wasn't perfect, the long experience of survival didn't go away.

Was it truly the sword that kept Encrid alive during that time?

No.

Situations, luck, preparation, calmness.

He survived by mixing all those together.

Therefore, 'today' too.

'The same.'

He does his best to survive.

Encrid decided to escape today.

* * *

"Charge!"

The cry of an ally is heard.

Encrid was soon driven to the center of the battlefield.

He wasn't flustered.

He didn't run in excitement. He lifted his head, watched the battlefield with his eyes, and regulated his breathing with his mouth.

Hoo.

Short but calm breaths.

He saw the enemy. He saw his allies.

The charging enemy, the retreating allies.

Srrrng.

He drew his sword.

And then a flying blade came into sight.

Encrid deflected the spear blade with the shield in his left hand.

Thud!

It was a task he had repeated many times. There were no mistakes.

Deflecting the spear blade, he took a step forward.

"Hiyah!"

He thrust his right foot into the heel of the startled enemy and bent his knee, preparing for the impact.

Everything happened in a single breath.

As if they had practiced together, the opponent tripped naturally and fell backward.

Thud!

The one who fell headfirst blinked his eyes.

He looked bewildered.

He probably didn't even know how it happened.

He had thrust his spear and tried to retreat, but tripped and fell with a thunk.

It all happened in an instant.

As Encrid passed by the fallen opponent, he kicked his chin with the tip of his foot.

Snap!

With a crisp sound, fragments of teeth and blood flowed from his mouth.

He was knocked out.

He didn't even feel the need to kill.

As he advanced, he raised his left arm.

Thud-! Crack!

A club swung at his shield, grazing Encrid's elbow.

Crunch!

It was a club with embedded spikes.

No injury. The leather armor wrapped around his elbow did its job.

"Damn it!"

The enemy gritted his teeth. Beneath the helmet that covered half his face, his jaw muscles were tensed.

This guy was a tough opponent, one that would take a lot of effort to handle properly.

Throughout today, there had been many times when this guy had targeted his left arm.

Gripping the handle, he stepped forward with his left foot.

It was the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

He locked eyes with the opponent. If he drew his sword, a fight was inevitable.

Both he and the enemy knew this.

Their eyes met, and an unspoken agreement was made.

They would fight with sword and club.

The enemy's eyes focused on Encrid's right hand.

Srrrng.

Before the sword was even fully drawn, Encrid's left hand moved first.

A throwing knife, previously tucked in his waist, flew through the air.

The enemy with the club, startled, raised his arm.

Thud- 

The blade embedded itself in the enemy's arm.

Even though he wore a gambeson (a padded cloth armor), the arm wasn't thickly padded.

Otherwise, it would restrict movement.

Thus, the blade likely reached and pierced the skin.

"You coward!"

The enemy spoke.

There is no such thing as cowardice or dishonor in a fight.

Encrid silently sheathed his sword with a swift motion.

The Valen Mercenary Sword Technique involved pretending to draw the sword while throwing a dagger or a stone instead.

"You scoundrel!"

The furious enemy with the spiked club raised veins on his forehead.

That only made the poison spread faster.

The enemy, who had been charging, suddenly collapsed forward.

The paralyzing poison took full effect.

With a thud, he crashed face-first into the ground.

Then he gasped and wheezed.

Encrid watched this and calmly walked past him.

The next opponent received a kick to the groin and was shoved aside.

The one after that was quietly pushed from behind as Encrid walked up.

An ally's hammer struck the head of the enemy who was stumbling in surprise.

Smack!

Even with a helmet, a blunt weapon can crack the skull.

Moreover, it wasn't even a metal helmet but a leather one.

Encrid hadn't shown any particularly extraordinary feats.

He merely displayed the necessary moves and actions at the right moments.

Of course, all of this contributed to minor victories for the allies around him.

"Thanks for saving my life."

Someone whose face he didn't recognize said. He gave a slight nod and passed by.

It wasn't particularly noteworthy.

"You're a lifesaver."

"Sa-sa-sa-Squad Leader? Was it luck or skill? Anyway, I'll buy you a drink later."

"Damn, I almost died."

There were quite a few people like that.

The growth compared to before his first death was incomparable.

At the center of it all was, of course, The Heart of the Beast.

'Calmly.'

And once again, calmly.

The Heart of the Beast does not recklessly throb.

Because it harbors wildness, it can look at everything calmly.

In the middle of the battlefield, Encrid felt the heartbeat and walked again.

A battlefield he had repeated dozens of times.

That doesn't mean he wasn't tense.

'The more familiar you get, the more you get caught by variables.'

Just because today repeats, it doesn't mean everyone he meets does the same things.

How Encrid responds changes the opponent's actions as well.

Therefore, he walked slowly, prioritizing taking in the surrounding situation.

'Around here.'

Swoosh.

Someone slashes a dagger from below.

A novel attack aiming at his leg as they fall during the fight.

'I've been caught by this before.'

He had tried to dodge a few times.

Then he found an easier way.

It's like blocking an arrow.

If you can't dodge it, you block it.

Thump.

The dagger that hit the leather greaves didn't cut Encrid's shin.

Of course it didn't.

"Huh?"

The single, foolish word from the enemy was his last.

Encrid struck the back of the fallen enemy with the iron rim of his shield.

Thud!

"Guh!"

The scream was short and small.

"Uraaaah!"

Instead, the battlefield's roar echoed in his ears.

Encrid's valiant efforts couldn't change the tide of the battle.

Only those around him felt a little more at ease.

'I can't save everyone.'

This is a battlefield, a place where the number of dead reaches dozens or even hundreds.

Trying to save everyone in such a place was a foolish and stupid act.

"Huff, come at me! You bastards!"

The shout came from a spearman of another squad.

He knew who it was without seeing his face.

Encrid had taken down more than five enemies as he walked.

That guy, shouting triumphantly, had actually died dozens of times.

If Encrid hadn't stepped in, he would have died today too.

Being cut in the shin and rolling on the ground to die was his usual fate.

Encrid straightened his back, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

'This is the first step.'

It was a battle repeated dozens of times.

Encrid had set his own standards.

The first goal was to join the front lines without getting hurt.

'No injuries.'

A little while ago, I achieved my first goal.

The second is...

'Finding familiar faces amidst the chaos.'

Of course, I must avoid injury even in this chaos.

That's the only way to properly face those twisted, stabbing enemies.

After rolling across the battlefield more than a hundred times, I had only one thought.

'I want to fight in full condition.'

Will all the effort, learning, and training I've done today pay off?

Can I defeat the twisted ones who prefer mercy?

Can I get through today with all my efforts?

My heart races.

Not with the bravery of the Heart of the Beast, but separate from it.

'Today, I will get through it.'

With clear goals and a definite purpose,

Encrid's heart beats.

Back to the battlefield, walking, sometimes running.

"Uwaaa!"

"Damn it, spare me!"

"Yeeeaargh!"

"You bastards!"

Amidst a symphony of curses and shouts,

Encrid swiftly turned his head in all directions.

'The one crouching and being cautious.'

It's the one I'm looking for. It didn't seem difficult to find.

I spotted a figure sneaking through the enemy ranks.

'First things first.'

Before facing the stabbing enemies, there was a task to be dealt with.

'The clubber from behind.'

Someone who has earned their nickname in their own way.

If left alive, this bastard repeatedly stabs Encrid in the back during fights.

If it's fate, then so be it.

Of course, Encrid doesn't believe in fate.

'Everything predetermined since birth? That's nonsense.'

If the sword breaks, even with a broken blade.

If there's no weapon, even with fists.

If there are no teeth, even with gums.

If talent fails,

'Even like this, I'll crawl up.'

What kind of people are knights, really?

What is the force that changes the course of the battlefield?

Unattainable hopes become delusions.

But if you can approach, it soon becomes a dream.

Encrid hasn't given up on his dream.

"Huff."

Exhaling,

Tock.

He draws a dagger and pulls his arm back with force.

In the murky midst of the battlefield,

He feels the weight of the dagger at his fingertips, eyes on the target, drawing an imaginary line straight ahead.

It's the throwing technique taught by the winner of a dagger-throwing contest one day in a tavern.

He's practiced this dozens of times, repeating it today.

Lifting his left foot slightly and releasing it, he twists his waist and extends his right hand forward.

Lastly, focusing on the sensation at his fingertips, he snaps his wrist.

Swish!

The dagger flies along the imaginary line Encrid drew.

"Ugh!"

The thrown dagger embeds itself around the shoulder of the club-wielding guy.

Since his armor was light, it wasn't a difficult feat.

"What a bastard."

The guy curses, looking around. There was no need to meet eyes.

Without a cleric or antidote, he should just lie down quietly.

Soon, the guy falls, and Encrid calmly starts looking for the second guy.

This time, it's someone good with throwing axes.

This bastard has been hurling axes repeatedly, causing havoc.

They need to be taken care of beforehand to avoid interference in the duel.

"Oh, gods!"

A determined cry from loyal allies echoed.

Curses and determined words were heard from all around.

Encrid scanned his surroundings and zeroed in on his target.

He blocked minor attacks with his shield,stepping in to exploit any openings.

With a swift blow to the head using the shield's edge, he struck down the fool who foolishly tightened his helmet.

Just that action alone brought comfort to Encrid's surrounding allies.

'There are three throwing knives left.'

No sight of the axe thrower.

'His position changes every time.'

But generally, this area seems correct.

'First, take care of Bell.'

It's time to save an ally who might be pierced by the eyes of a gnat.

'Move to the right from here.'

He walked while observing the allies' movements.

After blocking several attacks while walking, he discarded his broken shield.

Despite repeating this many times, it always broke.

'Around here.'

The battlefield repeated more than a hundred times, but it was somewhat familiar and accustomed, even with changing conditions each time.

The shield rolls on the ground.

Encrid stepped on the shield's edge with his foot.

The shield, wedged against a stone, shot up into the air with a thunk.

He grabbed it with a flick of his wrist. It was a gesture bordering on finesse, but after countless repetitions, it was more comfortable than bending over.

"...Nice move."

The voice of a fellow soldier who happened to witness it.

"Enemy behind."

A friend who had been distracted several times today almost got caught off guard.

Told not to die,he quickly turned around. There, he faced an enemy wielding a spear.

"Damn rat!"

Soon, the two fought for their lives.

The ally emerged victorious.

It was a fight witnessed at least twenty times.

Therefore, there was no need to watch.

Familiar and yet unfamiliar battlefield.

Encrid divided the area in his mind and drew a map.

"Let's go from Bell."

He moved his steps.

"Oof!"

Bell stumbled.

Thump.

A shield blocking an arrow.

"Ugh, what was that? I'm alive?"

"Don't just lie there. Crawl back. Arrows are flying."

Bell faithfully followed my advice.

Among the repeated days, the second arrow to pierce Bell's head was about sixty times.

So crawling back was the right move.

"...What? Did you secretly arrange a date with the goddess of luck?"

It was Rem.

Anyway, a barbarian.

If a devout follower of the goddess hears this, they'd make a fuss without any hesitation.

"Not even a scratch?"

Meeting the thrusting foe in prime condition.

That was Encrid's final goal for today.

"Do you have something to do there?"

"Yeah, yeah, but you seem different today."

"I'm a different man every day these repeated days. Each day is a day of growth."

"...You might need to take some medicine, squad leader."

With that, Rem left.

'Was I too unlucky earlier?'

Maybe so. But whatever it was, the truth was that.

Just then, Encrid spotted the enemy who enjoyed throwing axes.

An enemy carrying an axe loosely at his waist.

Wait for it.

Encrid drew his poisoned dagger.