Chapter 102 - Just Because Luck Isn't on Your Side (4)

“Which did you enjoy more?”

Dying skewered with arrows? Being strangled by a mage’s vines and pierced by thorns? Having his entire body torn apart by Lycanthropes?

The ferryman had appeared, and he laughed as he spoke. A laugh Encrid could perceive only because the ferryman permitted it.

It struck him anew how strange that was. How could he describe it? It was as though someone were telling him the ferryman had laughed. He knew the ferryman was laughing, but he had neither seen a smiling face nor heard any laughter. Only the knowledge that the other had laughed registered in his mind.

Having heard the question, Encrid answered, facing the black river, the ferry, and the ferryman. He could not even tell whether he was addressing the ferryman, the ferry, or the black river. Still, he could speak.

“The arrows were the best.”

Better than being torn to death by a pack of Lycanthropes or the mage’s vines, at any rate.

“... Go mad. Go mad like that and entertain me.”

Was it his imagination, or had the ferryman been momentarily lost for words? Encrid had not gone mad. Not at all. He had answered immediately simply because there was nothing to think about.

“That was a perfectly rational answer.”

“Crazy bastard.”

The ferryman had begun with laughter and ended in anger. Of course, this too felt as if someone were telling him about it. He did not know whether the ferryman had actually grown angry. He had merely registered the irritation.

That was the end of it. Black darkness painted over the black river, and when he closed his eyes and opened them again, it was the hour before dawn. Still the same today.

Encrid rose easily. Neither his body nor his mind felt heavy. Of course, the pain of dying with wolf-men tearing into him and their claws ripping through his entrails still lingered.

“Whew.”

He decided to put it behind him with that single sigh. Even if he could not truly forget, he would be all right once he started moving and swinging his sword. He was calm, in manner and in mind.

‘Relax my shoulders.’

Normally, he would have spent this time desperately racking his brains for a way to survive, to escape today. Instead, Encrid was still. Like a quiet lake. Hadn’t he learned something new?

‘Is desperation the only answer?’

Surely not. He was still walking toward tomorrow. But running at full speed all the time was not necessarily the quickest way there. Nor did he necessarily need to get there as quickly as possible.

‘Three paths.’

Up on his feet, he moved through his usual exercises and began organizing his thoughts. It had started with the Ghouls.

‘They were strange too.’

They had seemed to be following someone’s orders, or to be a group that had experienced doing so.

‘A mage must be involved.’

That mage had certainly been on an entirely different level from the one he had faced before.

‘Retsha of the Rose Vines.’

The name he had heard remained vivid in his mind. Could he kill her? There was no need to ask that question. He had to.

His thoughts then reached the Lycanthrope pack. He was reviewing his experiences in reverse order.

‘That was the mage’s doing.’

He was certain.

Climb the wall, and a mage greeted them. Take the Tunnel, and troops appeared to block them in front and behind. Elite soldiers armed with broad shields and long spears ahead, archers at their backs. Perfect preparations.

‘Not unless they knew beforehand.’

He did not know how it had happened, but the conclusion was that the enemy already knew their movements. Was there a spy, then? If there had been, surely something would have given them away during the Lycanthropes’ attack. The information could have reached the enemy some other way, too.

It was certainly a situation the ferryman could laugh at. All three paths were walls, and not walls he could surmount through training alone.

‘I suppose you could say I really am unlucky.’

How could he find something to kill him every single time? But did anything change just because luck wasn’t on his side? No. Encrid was the same. Unchanged. His resolve never wavered.

CLINK.

Encrid retied the cord around his sword grip. It was his marker for the start of a new today.

He divided the morning in his head and followed that schedule. The Isolation Technique, then sword training. More hidden knife practice.

“Could we spar?”

He asked Pin and practiced his Balaf-style martial arts.

“Someone chasing you? You seem to be in more of a hurry today.”

Torres spoke as he gathered his equipment. How many knives did he have concealed on his person? Watching him put on a belt holding eight knives, Encrid wondered, then answered.

“Just doing my best every day.”

“You’ll wear yourself out.”

His body was not so fragile that this little would damage it.

“Shall we go, then?”

Pin spoke after obliging him with a morning bout. It also marked the end of the training he had begun before dawn. He could hardly set off drenched in sweat, so he changed quickly before they left.

Along the way, Pin told him Aspen’s scouts were rarely seen here. He had heard it before. Pushing through the brush, she pointed out some appetizing-looking berries.

“Those are poisonous.”

“I’ll have to be careful.”

Encrid answered immediately.

“There’s something odd about you.”

“What?”

Torres cut in from beside them, where he was clearing brush with a dagger.

“He acts like he knows things. Almost like he’s been here before.”

Was that a woman’s intuition, or a ranger’s?

“It’s my first time here.”

“No need to be so formal.”

“All right.”

Would she ask him to sleep with her again? She had on the first today. Fortunately, perhaps, Pin did not bring it up. She simply gave him an odd look instead.

Even when today repeated, not everything happened exactly the same way. A few small things would change. Eventually, they reached the Tunnel’s entrance.

“How far does this go?”

Encrid asked just before they entered.

“Hmm? Walk briskly and it won’t even take an hour.”

“I see.”

“Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Afraid of the dark? Don’t worry. This big girl will hold your hand.”

“That’s not it.”

Pin gave a small chuckle and spoke.

“The ranger goes first.”

They descended along the path sheltered by the rise. The same thing happened as before. Encrid gave neither of them any warning, nor did he make any special preparations. Instead, he committed everything that happened to memory.

“What should you do when you’re surrounded?”

He had never asked any of his squad members that question. Which meant he had never been taught. But his experience thus far had taught him one thing: he should never let himself end up in that situation. If he could avoid it, that was the right choice.

Then what if he couldn’t avoid it? That was what he would have to think about now. Encrid was searching for an answer.

“Welcome!”

The enemy came into view: troops armed with long spears and shields. At least two squads. Several torches abruptly lit up the passage ahead.

CREEAK.

As if they had been waiting for this, a group of enemy soldiers armed with shortbows blocked the rear.

‘Looks like another twenty here.’

He turned back to the front and studied the man who appeared to be in command. The fellow was peering between the shields, his iron helmet covering his forehead so that only his eyes showed. Faintly, Encrid could make out something like delight in them. The man seemed to relish the situation.

“You wildcat bitch.”

The commander spoke.

“Oh, fuck.”

Pin stopped looking back and forth, drew a dagger in a reverse grip, and lowered her stance. Her left hand guarded her face at an angle while she drew her right hand back, hiding the knife from the enemy’s view. She did look like a wildcat concealing its claws.

Torres quietly moved beside a shadow cast by the torches. Some of the shortbowmen behind them tracked him with their eyes.

‘Sharp eyes, too.’

Properly trained soldiers, then. Just as he thought. Once they fell into this trap, it was over. Unless they were knight-level, there was no escaping it.

Pin and Torres were both excellent fighters. If only this were not a tunnel. If only they weren’t hemmed in from both sides.

‘Then we might have a chance.’

Not here. They could resist, but they would die. The commander was just about to shout something.

“Wait.”

Encrid stepped forward with his left palm showing. His sword was still sheathed. The gesture showed he had no intention of fighting.

“Doesn’t look like the sort we can reason with.”

Torres muttered. Pin was still glaring murderously ahead.

“What?”

The commander could afford to indulge him because he was certain they were caught. Encrid needed to close the distance. As Torres had said, this was not someone he could reason with. He only needed a little time. There was something he wanted to check before the fighting started, before the enemy began moving in earnest.

TAP, TAP.

He advanced with both hands raised to emphasize that he had no intention of fighting. His gaze examined the enemy’s equipment and clothing, clearly revealed in the torchlight.

‘The dust.’

Quite a lot had accumulated. This passage took about an hour to walk through. The dust on the soldiers did not look like a single day’s accumulation.

‘They haven’t just been waiting here today.’

So his next question was merely to confirm it.

“How many days have you been waiting?”

“... What?”

Apparently he had struck a nerve. Confusion crept into the commander’s voice. That was confirmation enough.

‘They weren’t certain when we’d come.’

What was it? What had made them wait here? Now he was curious. Of course, his curiosity wasn’t what mattered right now. The finding was: these men had been waiting here for days.

“You hid your presence well.”

Encrid spoke again. Every word was a probe, but the commander had no way of knowing that.

“You little shit. What are you? A mage too?”

Had a mage been involved here as well? Just what the hell was that bitch Retsha of the Rose Vines up to?

“Retsha, then.”

Since he was at it, he pushed a little further.

“... Fuck. I don’t know what this is, but die.”

That was as far as he got. The soldiers rushed in, arrows and long spears targeting Encrid, Pin, and Torres. The commander gestured orders to his troops and withdrew.

Pin looked as though she wanted to kill the bastard in command, but she had no means of breaking through the soldiers blocking her with shields and stabbing with long spears. Her specialties were difficult to use in a place like this, leaving her with only the fighting power of an ordinary soldier.

Torres was different. He kicked off the wall, moving in a way the enemy could not predict, then flicked his hands in midair. Four throwing knives flew from his hands. Even Encrid could not properly track their flight. It was a trick Torres had kept in reserve, but...

THUD-THUD-THUD.

It was not enough. Both the archers and the men blocking the front had covered themselves entirely with shields faced in thick leather.

‘Better to aim for their toes or something.’

That was enough for now. Putting aside the answer to surmounting this wall, Encrid decided to carry out what he had planned.

Fighting trained elite soldiers. Many elite soldiers at once, at that. This was a deeply unfamiliar experience for him. When had he ever had a whole group of people less skilled than him come after him? He had never been good enough for that.

He had expanded the ways he could wield his sword. He had killed the stabbing pervert and cut down that man Mitch Hurrier. Assassins had come for him, too. But this really was a first: standing among the outnumbered against a group, a unit, a military force. On a battlefield, he could make use of the allies around him. Here, he had no such opportunity.

‘In that case.’

Could this instead be an opportunity to improve his skills? Once he thought of it that way,

“This is fun.”

The words slipped out of their own accord.

“You crazy bastard.”

Looking appalled, a spearman drove his spear down at the smiling Encrid. A man on the verge of death, blood pouring from his mouth, smiling and muttering that this was fun, could hardly have looked sane.

Of course, Encrid did not care about any of that. His mind was full of things he wanted to test right now.

‘Concentrate on a Single Point and the sense for the blade won’t work.’

Narrowing his field of vision against multiple opponents would leave him helpless. What if he cut and crushed them with the Heavy Sword Technique, as he had with the Ghouls, the wolf demonic beasts, or the human-faced hounds?

‘No.’

These were not demonic beasts. They were an enemy unit that knew how to use strategy and tactics. He thought, turning possibilities over in his mind. The same as always. The only difference was that his shoulders were a little more relaxed than before.

So he spent several days trying to enter through the Tunnel. When that went badly, he went to meet the mage on the wall. After falling to Retsha’s vines countless times, when his efforts to find a solution stalled, he danced with the wolf-men, with the moonlight for company. Of course, that dance always ended in death.

Having made up his mind, Encrid felt no impatience. He simply did his best in every moment. Relaxing his shoulders did not mean he intended to waste a day.

And so, after forty-two todays, he got the hang of the hidden knife.

“How is that even possible?”

Naturally, Torres’s eyes went wide as a startled rabbit’s. From his perspective, Encrid had copied his secret technique in a single day.

“I got lucky.”

It was a hopeless excuse, but Torres had nothing to say either.

“In one day?”

He could only mutter things like that.

Showing Torres did nothing to improve his mastery of the hidden knife. So, as Encrid passed forty-two todays and went beyond seventy, he spared Torres the distress. He simply stopped demonstrating the hidden knife in front of him. Now all he had to do was keep practicing on his own.

His Balaf-style martial arts improved by the day as well, thanks to sparring with Pin, who had learned Ail Karaz-style martial arts.

And after repeating today, again and again, Encrid considered the hidden knife, Balaf-style martial arts, facing the mage on the wall, climbing that wall to build his grip strength, and honing his swordsmanship against the pack of wolf-men.

‘All of it.’

He felt there was no need to repeat any of it anymore. What came next, then? It was time to move beyond today and toward tomorrow.