CHAPTER 21

Boom.

Suddenly, lightning struck a clear sky, and raindrops began to fall.

"Ugh, what a mood killer."

"Hmm."

Rem and Ragna, whose tempers had flared, avoided each other's gaze.

That was the end of the fight.

The two sought shelter from the rain and entered the tent.

It had been so clear, and now, rain, suddenly? The weather was going crazy.

It was the end of autumn, not the season for showers.

The sky was stingy with rain. Especially a shower without a single dark cloud was really rare.

"Sudden rain, huh," Krais said, looking at the lightning and rain streaks in the clear sky.

Encrid also looked at the sky, recalling the events that had happened while he wasn't around.

The curse was, as expected, nonsense.

"They'll say even this rain is a curse?"

"Maybe. Anyway, over the past three days, Bo tripped and broke his nose, Jaxon broke his arm, and Rotten got bitten by a snake."

All three were scouts.

Bo was agile enough to do somersaults, so it was fortunate he only broke his nose while wearing armor.

Jaxon was a foul-mouthed soldier who overestimated his spear-handling skills. He broke his arm during a sparring match, and one could bet his opponent intentionally broke it.

Lastly, Rotten was careless for a scout. Though it wasn't the season for many snakes, this grassland had areas particularly dense with them.

So, it was understandable for all three.

"Besides those three, there was someone who burned their hand on a pot."

Big Eyes said this as if he were excited.

If he really believed this was a curse, he wouldn't be talking like this.

It was just something to talk about.

"And there was news that the medical tent caught fire. Ah, Squad Leader, you were there, right? Did you hear anything?"

The tent burning, is that being called a curse too?

"Yeah. It burned well."

Krais paused as he was entering the tent and quickly turned his head.

"Did you see it yourself? Did the fire really just suddenly flare up? There's also talk that a spy got in."

No. That's not it.

'I did it.'

Encrid had set the fire.

And as for a spy, there had been a raid, but he doubted it was the enemy.

He didn't know Krang's true identity yet, but it seemed he was at least a noble's illegitimate child.

So, wasn't that raider likely from their own side?

As for the curse, what's there to say?

The command will soon crack down on this.

No commander would welcome such talk spreading within the unit.

"Hey? Didn't you see anything?"

Big Eyes urged.

Encrid met his large eyes for a moment, thinking.

Krais was too loose-lipped to tell everything.

Even if he wasn't, there was no reason to.

He had decided to keep quiet, so that's what he would do.

"The tent I was in caught fire."

"Huh?"

"Didn't you know?"

"Not at all. So, it wasn't an enemy attack? The fire just suddenly started?"

"The guard fell asleep, the wind knocked over a torch stand. There was a fuel canister nearby, set there for refueling the torches. The fallen torch stand ignited the tent, and it spread."

Encrid clenched his fist and then opened it, mimicking the spread of flames with his hand.

"Nothing special then."

"You don't think about the fact that I almost died?"

"You're standing here just fine."

What is this, are they worried about me or what?

"If you aren't alive and well, are you a ghost, Squad Leader?"

Rem chimed in from behind, laughing.

Was this guy making a joke?

"The Lord says, let the spirits rest in peace."

A squad member, deeply religious, performed a verbal exorcism.

Encrid thought that if he were really a ghost, these words would be quite uncomfortable.

"Just my hair got a little singed."

The ends of his bangs were a bit scorched, so he cut them. The hastily cut hair looked uneven.

"Your hair is naturally black, so it doesn't show even if it's burnt."

Rem kept laughing.

"Then is your hair just ashes?"

Rem's hair was gray.

"Oh, how did you know? My hair is ash."

Was this guy really finding this funny?

He was the only one laughing inside the tent, yet he kept at it.

Whether it was really a shower, the rain that had been falling soon stopped.

The chatter was brief.

Once the rain stopped, Krais said he had business to attend to and left.

Encrid lay down in his place, using the sound of raindrops falling from the edge of the tent as a background to fall asleep.

It was a sweet nap.

After sleeping for a while, his aching head felt clear.

The fatigue was gone.

Encrid got up and twisted his waist from side to side.

There was no pain in his side at all.

Good. He felt refreshed.

There was no one in the tent.

Listening closely, he heard people coming and going in front of the tent and a soldier's disgruntled voice from the tent next door.

"What kind of rain starts and stops like this?"

Encrid pushed open the entrance of the tent and stepped outside.

The squad members were scattered in front of the tent, enjoying their personal maintenance time.

It was expected that Jaxon and Krais wouldn't be visible.

The rest were in their places.

He approached Rem, who was scribbling something on the wet ground.

"You look like you have nothing to do."

"Does it look that way? You're right. I was just thinking about cracking someone's skull out of boredom."

One of Rem's specialties was provoking the nearby squad members with his nasty banter.

When the provoked person retaliated, it was his hobby to beat them up a bit.

Since Encrid arrived, this had become less frequent, but he hadn't completely given up the habit.

"Then let's have a sparring match."

"A sparring match?"

"Yeah, a sparring match."

Rem nodded willingly.

This wasn't the first or second time this had happened.

Encrid's request for sparring was a regular occurrence.

"Sounds good."

The two headed to the open space behind the tent.

Thanks to the erratic weather, there was no one around.

Even if there were, no one would care.

Encrid and Rem stood facing each other ten paces apart.

Rem grinned and twirled his wrists.

As his wrists moved, the freshly sharpened axe blade reflected the dry sunlight.

The rain that had been coming and going had stopped, and it was now perfectly clear.

The air felt humid rather than dry, and the smell of earth filled the nose.

The ground wasn't muddy; it was soft but firm enough not to sink in.

The clouds were just enough to cover the sun, so it wasn't blinding.

"It's a good day for a fight."

"Is it?"

Encrid responded by awakening The Heart of the Beast.

He strived not to waste time through repeated daily routines.

This included not only physical training and honing his hearing but also using his mind.

'Valen's Mercenary Sword Technique doesn't work.'

He knew this from countless fights with Rem while practicing thrusts.

Valen's Mercenary Sword Technique was useless against Rem.

So, what should he do?

Considering his own weapon, the intimidation from the opponent, and past experiences.

If he fought with all these in mind, what attack would be effective?

How could he create an effective strike?

It was time to verify the answer to his repeated considerations.

Swoosh.

Rem stepped forward. His step, firm and confident, showed no hesitation. His confidence was evident.

Encrid thought so.

"Should I go first?"

Instead of answering, Encrid focused on his opponent's breathing.

Inhale and exhale.

Rem's breathing was long and slow.

In the middle of that long exhale, Encrid closed the distance in an instant.

He pushed off with his back foot and advanced.

As he closed the gap.

Whoosh!

He swung his sword, cutting horizontally.

Rem dodged by leaning back as if lying down.

It was a feat possible because he precisely predicted the range of the slash.

Even in a half-lying position, Rem's eyes never left Encrid.

Seeing this, Encrid instinctively pulled his sword back to block in front of him.

Whoosh.

Thud!

Before he knew it, the axe had struck his sword blade.

The impact wasn't strong. No matter how strong he was, it was an axe swung from a lying position.

In that same position.

Whoosh, whoosh!

The axe kept coming.

Thud! Thud! Clang!

Gripping his sword tightly with both hands, he blocked and blocked again.

He tried to pause to adjust his stance and counterattack, but Rem didn't stop.

Encrid felt like he was under a continuous guillotine.

Rem's barrage of axe attacks ended as he fully stood up.

There was a brief opening, but Encrid didn't retreat. He didn't adjust his stance.

As Rem straightened up and pulled back his arm, instead of retreating and catching his breath, Encrid...

Thrust forward!

With one step forward, he executed a thrust he had practiced countless times.

His sword, extending from his defensive stance.

He was determined to land the strike.

Everything happened in an instant.

As he thrust and aimed at Rem's midsection, Encrid's eyes saw the blue sky and Rem's face intersecting.

'Huh?'

Encrid saw Rem's face upside down.

Whoosh.

At the moment of the thrust, Rem kicked Encrid's ankle.

It was an instantaneous decision.

As a result, the tip of the sword sliced through empty air.

Instead of swinging his axe, Rem let it go, grabbed Encrid by the collar, and threw him to the side.

"Ugh!"

Rolling to the side, Encrid quickly understood how he had been bested.

It was a trick.

He had been timing the moment Rem pulled back the axe.

Rem had used that against him.

"Phew."

Lying sprawled on the ground, Encrid inwardly shook his head.

Such incredible strength.

Encrid prided himself on his strength, believing he wasn't easily outmatched by anyone, but to be thrown with one hand.

Even though he wasn't wearing heavy equipment, making him relatively light, it was still a feat of brute strength.

Looking up from his sitting position, he saw Rem's face.

It bore a peculiar expression.

Normally, Rem laughed throughout their sparring matches.

But not now.

His mouth was straight. Composed. He wasn't smiling.

"Hey, have you been eating something special behind my back?"

Rem asked with a serious face.

Thinking about it, this reaction was only natural.

He wouldn't remember helping Encrid with thrust training.

After all, the first time he broke out of the usual routine was when he was assigned kitchen duty.

"I've thought this before, but it seems your skills have suddenly improved. Especially that thrusting technique, it was good. Not bad at all."

"Really?"

"Yes. And I don't give compliments lightly."

"Yeah, right."

This guy, who constantly spouted nonsense, was now claiming to be serious.

"I'm serious."

"Got it. Then let's review."

"...Squad Leader, you really are a consistent man. Why don't you ever change?"

Reviewing after sparring.

This was also a routine. No matter how little there was to gain, Encrid would persist with his sparring partner.

To learn and internalize even the smallest detail.

Often, the opponent had little to say.

Only if the skill had improved would there be anything worth discussing.

That's how it had been until now.

So, after sparring, Rem would often say things like, 'Show some more determination.'

Words that were meaningless and without value.

No. Rem knew. He knew the end of those without talent.

That's why he taught him what was necessary to survive.

For the same reason, he passed on The Heart of the Beast.

But now?

Things had changed significantly.

The fact that there was much to discuss after this sparring session was proof.

"First of all, it's too obvious that you're waiting for my axe strike. Even if I don't fall for it easily, shouldn't you at least try to be deceptive?"

Rem began to speak.

Encrid nodded.

As always, he adopted a proper attitude of listening.

Rem saw this and chuckled.

He promptly pointed out the core issue first and left the minor details for later. That was Rem's way.

Encrid listened attentively to each and every word.

* * *

There were no battles for three days, and during that time, Encrid sparred with Rem three more times.

"You should work on your lower body. Your balance is oddly off."

Even though he usually spouted nonsense, Rem had a knack for getting to the heart of the matter.

Encrid pondered and mulled over those words.

After that, he threw himself back into training.

Even during rest times, he continued.

Everyone had their own way of spending personal maintenance time.

Some wrote letters.

Others focused on rest.

Except for eating and sleeping, Encrid devoted everything to practice and training.

Someone might call it obsessive if they saw him, but for him, it was pure peace.

The sense of fulfillment from improving each day was the greatest reward.

Thanks to that, he didn't feel the pain from the intensified physical training.

"A relentless guy, back at it right after returning from the medical tent."

"He was quiet for a while, but he's fired up again."

"If I trained like that, I'd have become a knight by now."

"Huh? Why are you talking crap?"

He rolled his body and focused on his hearing. When his muscles screamed in pain, concentrating on his hearing often made the pain fade away.

Encrid could hear the idle chatter of two soldiers in another tent.

They were from the 3rd squad of the same platoon but felt distant.

He extended his hearing further.

He listened to the sound of clothes rustling from behind and tried to guess the action.

He also tried identifying people by their footsteps.

Five out of ten times he was wrong, but he could recognize familiar footsteps.

Light and fast, but the sound of stepping on the dirt was lively.

'Big Eyes.'

He was right.

"Training again? It's creepy. Creepy." Krais said as he approached.

Encrid ignored him.

Repeating squats, his legs began to tremble.

Sweat dripped from his scalp, pooling at the ends of his eyebrows.

The weather had cleared, reverting to the dry, windy climate it usually was.

Sweating enough to drench oneself on a day like this wouldn't seem normal.

Especially on the battlefield.

Training in a place where a fight could break out any time.

Yet, everyone accepted it.

Encrid had always been like this, day in and day out.

It was their routine.

"Isn't that tiring? You manage to do that every day." Krais said, sitting down nearby and chewing on some flat jerky.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripped from the tip of his nose, and fell to the ground.

A heavy pain rose from his thighs. His muscles trembled, and nausea surged.

He was at his limit.

Encrid sat down, drenched in sweat.

Closing his eyes, the cool wind brushed against his damp forehead and ears.

Training for the day was complete.

As he enjoyed the breeze, he heard firm footsteps.

The footsteps stopped behind Encrid.

"Still working hard, I see."

He tilted his head back to look at the speaker. A long shadow covered Encrid's face, blocking the sunlight. Though the face was hard to see against the light, he could tell it was a man with a thick beard.

"Can we talk?"

He was the 4th platoon leader.