CHAPTER 132

Marcus felt dizzy.

Cold sweat trickled down his forehead, quickly making it damp.

'These bastards?'

His mouth went dry at the enemy's tricks.

But he couldn't just stand by and watch. He was the commander of the current infantry battalion.

The reinforcements had joined, expanding the unit to two battalions.

"Turtle Company, hold the rear! The rest, hold back the Giant! Don't break formation! Anyone retreating gets an arrow to the back of the head!"

His deputy echoed the same orders.

A messenger, having heard the condensed command, ran in all directions.

"Damn it, just hold them! If you retreat, you die!"

It could have been the worst situation. Forcing soldiers to sacrifice themselves would plummet morale, and once pushed back, gaining a strategic advantage would be a pipe dream.

But there was no other choice.

They needed time to regroup the troops.

The horn sounded repeatedly.

"Booooooo!"

Marcus thought as he looked at the damp fog that obscured his view.

What a damned and wretched environment.

Hadn't they almost died in this crazy fog on a previous battlefield?

That time, it was fog created by magic.

How did they resolve it back then?

With the previous Battalion Commander's wit and tactics?

'What a load of crap that not even a dog would believe.'

He knew what kind of man the former Battalion Commander was—a nobleman who liked bribes more than his abilities.

It was surely someone else who had broken the spell.

Despite the secrecy, it was likely that Platoon leader nicknamed the "Spell Breaker".

The soldier, with a stroke of luck, rumored to have slept with the Goddess of luck.

The soldier they sent to the Cross Guard, who even managed to handle the tasks there—something different about him.

For some reason, that soldier came to mind at this moment.

The soldier's name, who had been called to control the Madmen Platoon and do something, remained vividly in his mind.

Encrid.

As the thoughts connected and ended.

Beyond the slowly dissipating fog.

A figure, several heads taller than a human, came into view.

"Insane."

A Giant.

The enemy commander must have been determined.

Instead of fighting half-heartedly, they concentrated their forces and challenged the main unit.

If this was a gamble, they had put all their chips on the table.

'In the midst of all this, they do something like that?'

It had been a series of shocks from the beginning.

Lowering morale with duels between soldiers.

Probing the rear.

Sending out a Giant to overturn the battle in one move.

Was this the work of a genius strategist?

Or was it a brute-force strategy that happened to work out?

He didn't know.

The battlefield only speaks through results.

Both achievements and victories do.

Thus, if they lost here, Marcus felt it would be due to his own shortcomings.

As anxiety pounded in his chest, he couldn't help but laugh.

There was a reason they called him a war fanatic.

In such situations, Marcus felt his desires and primal instincts surge.

A chariot of desire, pounding in his chest, fueled his entire body with blood.

'If we can just catch a bit of momentum.'

Marcus was not the type to plan everything meticulously and devise a strategy. He was a gambler.

The thinking was left to his subordinates.

"We need to retreat. It will take at least a whole platoon to deal with a single Giant."

"We must acknowledge that the enemy's move is lethal."

"We should regroup and engage them with archers, not Turtle Heavy Infantry—"

Before his group of deputies, gathered for their brains, could finish speaking.

"On the left flank! Fairies and assassins are appearing, assassinating commanders indiscriminately!"

What the hell?

"On the right flank! More than a squad of war mercenaries are rampaging. They're elite!"

It was chaos. A nightmare.

Yet, Marcus's heart did not shrink.

'It doesn't feel like it's over yet.'

Ignoring the look of his deputy who wanted to retreat, Marcus said nothing.

Change, even a small one, would be good.

If the direction of the wind shifted even a little.

Marcus swallowed hard and waited. What if the winds of change didn't blow?

'No, there's a chance.'

When people gather, there are always exceptional individuals. There would be such individuals within the infantry battalion as well.

What they needed was a small gesture to break the conforming wave.

Marcus believed such a moment would come.

"Commander!"

The deputy shouted, almost defiantly. The urgency was clear. Meanwhile, a messenger came running.

From a distance, loudly announcing the battlefield's situation.

The messenger's voice was so strained, it seemed he might collapse from shouting.

"Urgent report! Urgent report! The Giant has been slain!"

Change, the change he had been waiting for, relying purely on instinct.

It didn't matter who did it.

"Counterattack!"

Marcus shouted. It was the moment for the army's counteroffensive to begin.

He displayed excellent ability as a commander.

He was a skilled leader.

With his command, the Naurillia forces became like charging turtles.

It was a circular assault formation centered around the Turtle Heavy Infantry unit.

It was a large-scale group battle Marcus was confident in.

* * *

The death of the Giant was just the beginning.

The winds of change started to blow fiercely across the battlefield, like a powerful typhoon signaling the shift from summer to autumn.

"Charge!"

The voices of soldiers who became messengers due to their loud voices echoed near each Company Commander.

"Boooooo!"

The horn sounded the command to advance.

"Charge!"

"Yeah!"

"Crush them all!"

"Die, you bastards!"

Bell joined in the charge as well. Seeing Rem, who killed the Giant, and the prowess of their allies who had withstood the Giant's power, stirred his heart.

It felt like they couldn't lose this battle, that was the sense he had.

Thud!

Infantry armed with spears charged first, stabbing the enemy like thorns.

Squelch!

The enemy ranks held firm. The trained soldiers of Aspen were resilient. They braced themselves with shields and armor, countering with their own spears.

"Open up!"

A shout came from behind their own spearmen.

So what? Do they think they're as tough as us?

The Turtle Heavy Infantry Company.

1st Company of the 4th Battalion, 4th Regiment of the Cyprus Division.

Elite forces renowned within the unit, named after knights.

Not a separate independent unit, but the core strength of the force.

They moved into action.

Their tactics were simple, and the overarching strategy was even simpler.

'Advance, break, and shatter.'

The Turtle Heavy Infantry Company moved not for defense, but for an attack.

Their steps were slow but heavy.

If the spear-wielding infantry at the front was the spearhead, then this was the war hammer.

A war hammer meant to crush shields and armor.

The primary equipment of the heavy infantry was usually spears, but what was needed now was a powerful forward charge.

They advanced, having replaced their gear with blunt weapons designed to crush the enemy's shields and armor.

The unit, clad in layers—first underclothes, then a gambeson, chainmail over that, and steel gauntlets and greaves on their arms and legs—charged forward.

As they moved in formation, they resembled a charging mass of iron.

Ten heavy infantry soldiers at the front all moved in unison.

They raised their weapons vertically above their heads.

The longer maces, casting shadows over the blood-soaked ground, were ready.

"Damn."

One of the enemy soldiers muttered.

The ten heavy infantry soldiers at the front simultaneously brought their weapons down.

The war hammers sliced through the air, smashing into the enemy's shields, armor, and poorly raised spears.

Bang! Crash! Thud! Crack!

A cacophony of sounds erupted all at once, mingling together.

It was the impact of their first charge.

There were no casualties among the enemy soldiers. It was a battle of formations.

They didn't collapse in one strike, but the problem was what came next.

The formations became tightly packed.

The boundaries between them blurred, overlapping.

Like the sun and moon breaking down each other's boundaries before dawn.

The soldiers of both armies fought to maintain their boundaries.

The heavy infantry, fighting in place, showed their formidable power.

Crack!

With a second blow, a buckler shattered, sending splinters into the air.

The eyes of an Aspen soldier holding the broken shield widened in fear.

A war hammer came crashing down again, this time onto his helmet.

Thud!

"Ugh!"

A leather helmet couldn't absorb the impact of the iron blow.

The soldier's skull caved in with a single strike, and he fell.

The heavy infantry marched over him.

Crunch, crunch.

Bones broke, faces caved in, and blood spilled. The weight crushed the life out of the body.

Death was the only thing left for the soldier beneath the heavy infantry.

"Advance, one step!"

The Commander of the heavy infantry maintained the unit's proud formation.

Slowly, step by step, they advanced, tightening the noose around the enemy.

It was slow and deliberate, not a rush or charge.

But the enemy had no room to retreat.

"Sweep them away."

The Company Commander was filled with confidence. And rightly so—the tide of battle had suddenly turned.

If there had been a knight in this battle, if it had started with a duel of knights, things might have been different.

But the enemy hadn't fought that way.

They hid their ace, only to reveal it and strike.

But their own blade was stronger.

A blade more solid than expected.

No one could have predicted that Rem, known as a madman, would play with and kill a Giant.

"Uoooooooh!"

A roar split the air, rising into the sky. The soldiers were all fired up. Their eyes were red as they thrust spears and swung swords.

Some even picked up and threw axes.

At this point, Marcus's command shone again.

After breaking the enemy's formation with the heavy infantry assault.

"Shoot! Shoot! Shoot them all!"

A unit maneuvered to the flank. It was a swift light-armored archer unit, a ranger squad armed with short bows.

An exceptional ranger, who had recently joined the unit, led them.

Her name was Finn.

Upon hearing Marcus's orders, she understood what he wanted.

Arrows flew, though not many died from them.

They simply kept shooting, without holding back on arrows.

"Surrender! Drop your weapons and bow your heads to the ground! Surrender and you won't be killed!"

The cry was repeated. Several loud-voiced messengers echoed the command across the battlefield.

Those on the outskirts, already demoralized and retreating, were further disheartened.

Upon encountering Finn, they all had to drop their weapons and raise their hands.

"Don't kill them! Don't kill them!"

Finn deliberately spared those who surrendered.

The effect was evident. Many began to bow their heads to the ground.

It was the moment the tide of the battle completely turned.

After killing the Giant, Rem dusted off his hands.

'Looks like the fight's over.'

It had been fun up to this point. What was next? It was time to chase down and massacre the enemy.

But he felt no enthusiasm.

It wasn't out of some soft-hearted reluctance to commit a massacre.

The battle was already won. Chasing them down was just a hassle.

He looked around to see if the enemy had hidden another Giant or something similar, but there was nothing.

There was just some commotion among the enemy's command.

They're going to flee soon.

'Why not cast a spell or something?'

But there was no sign of that.

The momentum had shifted, and the battle was over.

That was Rem's assessment.

He turned to find his Platoon leader.

"Where the hell...?"

Where did that guy go? He was supposed to watch from behind.

He hadn't even properly seen Rem fighting the Giant before disappearing.

And none of the others, including the stray cat, were around?

So, he must have left with one of them?

'Huh?'

He started feeling uneasy.

"Hooray! Mad Platoon forever!"

"Long live Rem!"

Thanks to killing the Giant, people around were still praising Rem's name.

Everyone he passed lauded Rem.

The madman on their side had killed the enemy Giant, who was crazed with slaughter.

Most impressive was the final move.

After seeing the Giant wield a massive Giant hammer, Rem had kicked the Giant's thigh and then punched the fingers holding the weapon, breaking them.

He then launched himself into the air, spinning, and with his head going toward the ground, Rem's foot struck the Giant's chin.

It was a powerful hit. Then he picked up a spear lying around and pierced it through the Giant's broken jaw, up to the back of its head, creating a masterpiece.

The fallen Giant looked like a sculpture.

Rem, standing before it, seemed like a hero from a story.

Giants often appear as villains in novels.

So it was natural for cheers to erupt continuously.

"Shut up!"

Rem yelled, even as people praised him.

His voice was so loud that those around him, who had been praising him, fell silent.

Then, the nickname they had for Rem shone brightly in their minds, like the moonlight.

"Just a madman."

A madman who rants and raves without reason.

A madman who gets angry and curses for no reason.

"Where's our Platoon leader?"

Someone raised a hand and pointed in one direction.

There stood Encrid, holding two axes.

He was already coming this way. Rem, Ragna, and Encrid met.

"Hey, I told you to watch…."

"I picked them up on the way."

Encrid cut off Rem and tossed the weapons.

The two axes cut through the air and landed in Rem's hands.

Rem grabbed them with a quick motion.

"Hmm?"

The grip felt good, comfortable in his hands.

Upon holding and feeling them.

They were better than what he had used before.

Handcrafted weapons that had tasted blood.

From the balance to the axe blades.

These were well-crafted, high-quality weapons.

"So, you went to get these because my axes were broken?"

A straightforward task, as long as it got done.

Encrid knew Rem well.

"Yes."

Rem nodded in agreement.

Although they stumbled upon this outcome by chance, if it brought peace, so be it.

The murderous aura that had been emanating from Rem softened significantly.

The killing intent dissipated.

"Did you see what I told you to watch?"

"Yes, I saw. The axe that stopped the Giant. Overcoming with strength."

Rem looked into his Platoon leader's eyes as Encrid spoke.

The axes, thrown as a joke, were not what mattered.

In his eyes, there was a burning flame, a desire and passion that could be called ambition.

A seeker, walking a path stained with blood to learn, grow, and find his dream.

That was enough.

This was why Rem liked Encrid as a person.

"Good."

Rem smiled.

Encrid smiled too.

Their smiles were different, yet similar.

Ragna, observing this, murmured.

"First, you need to attach the sword to your body."

Suddenly, Jaxon appeared behind Ragna, having approached without a sound or warning.

"When your senses ripen and the sixth sense opens, what's next? Refinement, training each aspect separately, and learning how to react. There's a lot to do."

Encrid turned his gaze. He met Jaxon's eyes and asked silently.

'What does that all mean?'

There was no answer.

"Next time."

It seemed that this one, more than Ragna, had a knack for cutting things off.

"This guy? Interrupting?"

Rem glared.

Before they could exchange more sharp words, Audin returned.

"Whoa! Our mad Giant is stronger!"

What an incredible cheer.

Indeed, he had become a mad Giant on their side.

Covered in blood, smiling serenely.

Dripping blood from his sleeves, he smiled so purely—was it a skill or just madness?

"Do you know the core of Valaf-Style combat?"

This one seemed similar too.

Encrid's gaze turned to the mad Giant.

Audin flashed a grin.

"Damn, everyone's butting in?"

Rem complained.

They all exuded a tense aura.

Encrid watched for a moment and then intervened.

In the middle of the battlefield, regardless of the ongoing fight, these people were focused on teaching Encrid.

And these individuals were the true heroes of this battle.

As Encrid calmed the group of heroes, he asked,

"But where are the others?"

He noticed that Andrew and the others were missing.

"They got swept up and went ahead."

Rem responded.

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