Chapter 105 - A Gamble He Knew How to Win

"Catch them!"

The enemy soldiers shouted and, naturally, gave furious chase. Encrid glanced back and veered slightly aside. PATTER!

A heap of dirt fell right where he had been about to step. It wasn't a sign of a cave-in. Just a symbol of his bad luck. 'No, maybe I'm lucky today.'

A quarrel had merely grazed his head, after all. That qualified as good luck. The tips of the long spears, angled forward, scraped the tunnel ceiling as the enemy soldiers charged after them at a frightening pace. He had fought one battle, but...

'Not enough to wear me out.'

The only real problem was the lack of light. Pin was a ranger, a former pathfinder—the sort said to find their way with eyeballs on the soles of their feet. Darkness wasn't about to send her sprawling. The same went for Encrid. He had been imitating her gait all this time. He wasn't perfect, but he could more or less feel the shape of the ground through his soles. Besides, how many times had he traveled this path? If he still fell and broke his nose, that wouldn't be a question of talent. It would prove he used his head for nothing but holding up a helmet. Encrid did have an excellent memory. For all these reasons, he and Pin could run through the dark without trouble. "Fuck."

Only Torres was having difficulties. Every time his foot landed in a hollow, he gave a startled jerk. Still, his exceptional coordination let him recover his balance and keep running. WHOOSH!

The sound of torches.

SCRAAAPE!

The occasional spearhead scraping the ceiling.

"Hah! Hah!"

Aside from those, only ragged breathing accompanied the chase. Pin and Torres carried the lightest loads, but even they couldn't pick up enough speed to shake their pursuers. It felt as though they might be caught at any moment. As they ran, moonlight began to show ahead. The entrance. The entrance to the Tunnel. Pin ran up the slope first and tossed one crossbow behind her. Rather than simply discard it, Encrid thought it might make a useful projectile. He picked it up and hurled it with all his strength. The man close on his heels saw it coming and brought his shield around from his side.

CRACK!

The crossbow must not have been particularly sturdy. Splinters flew as it bounced away. It slowed the pursuit a little, but not significantly. Encrid had only thrown it to help Torres, who was falling slightly behind. Torres looked at him and nodded, gratitude in his eyes and the gesture. 'Thanking me at a time like this?'

Pin got out first. Encrid reached the top of the slope, planted a hand on the lip of the opening, and hauled himself up. Dirt sifted down, and Torres ducked his head. "Wait."

Torres spoke abruptly, drew a dagger with his left hand, and drove it into the tunnel's slope before twisting back at an angle. 'Oh, now this...'

Bracing himself against the slanted wall, he flicked his hand behind him. His feet alone couldn't hold him, so he had planted one dagger to maintain his balance while throwing another. 'I haven't seen this before.'

Encrid had never witnessed this in his repeated todays. Not that it was especially surprising. The repeating day was never exactly the same. A dagger whizzed backward.

THUD! THUD!

Despite having thrown away their torches to pursue them, the enemy soldiers deftly blocked the incoming daggers with their shields. "You bastards."

The two soldiers who had blocked the daggers spat curses. Their eyes blazed fiercely. If they caught them, they clearly wouldn't give them an easy death. Of course, Encrid had been caught before. It hadn't ended well. Skewered on spearheads, or a blade driven into his skull. Really, no death was ever welcome. "That's insane."

Torres marveled at how they had blocked the daggers. Even with the torchlight and moonlight, it was dark. And they'd blocked those? Ordinary training couldn't produce soldiers like that. Seeing them block his daggers convinced Torres.

'They're on par with the Border Guard.'

In other words, getting caught meant getting fucking killed. Even with Encrid right beside him, reaching out a hand.

'We can't beat them.' "How many do you think you could take?"

He asked as he grasped Encrid's hand. "Separately? I think I could handle all of them. But coming at us together like that, well..."

Even Encrid had no answer. Yet there was strangely little tension on his face. Why was he so relaxed? Torres scrambled up, wondering. Behind them, one of the spearmen showed off a trick much like Torres's.

WHOOSH!

He hurled his shortsword like a throwing knife. He was good, too. Thinking that, Encrid drew his sword and knocked it aside. The shortsword struck roughly halfway along his blade.

CLANG! THUNK!

It ricocheted away and buried itself in the ground to one side. Its keen edge shone red and blue, reflecting moonlight and a torch thrust up from below. "Hurry."

That was all Encrid said after deflecting the sword. Torres moved faster. "Out of the way!"

Pin, first out of the tunnel, had meanwhile cranked back the string of her remaining crossbow until it locked into place. She shouted, then pulled the trigger as Encrid and Torres split left and right. The string twanged, and a quarrel vanished into the opening, where shadows flickered in the torchlight. It wasn't a repeating crossbow. One shot was all she had. They heard a thud, but there was no time to check whether it had struck a head or a shield. "Run."

This time Pin spoke first and took off. Encrid and Torres followed—Torres in the middle, Encrid bringing up the rear. They headed toward the camp where the main scouting force had originally been stationed. Pin's mind raced as she ran.

'Where do we go?'

Toward the main force? What if this was a carefully laid trap? But if they headed for the river, might Aspen's rangers be there? No, making this much noise would draw demonic beasts and monsters in the first place. Even if they could somehow handle a dozen or so Ghouls, what if they had the bad luck to encounter a colony? Facing a colony of demonic beasts or monsters with a handful of soldiers was suicide. Demonic beasts that simply roamed together were an entirely different matter from those that had formed an organized group—a colony. As a ranger, she knew the ecology of demonic beasts and monsters well.

'What's the worst that could happen right now?'

Getting caught. The beasts and monsters would have to wait. "To the camp."

Encrid put an end to her deliberations. She glanced back and saw him bringing up the rear. All three were panting, but there was an odd calm around his eyes and mouth. 'Why?'

Why did he look so relaxed? Ah, his mouth was closed. He wasn't panting despite all this running. Even she was starting to get winded. Wasn't his gear heavier than hers? He even had a longsword at his waist, yet he looked that comfortable running? Pin couldn't ask why he had chosen that direction. She simply had to decide. Encrid didn't interfere with her decision any further. Right now, she would feel they were screwed no matter where they went.

'She'll find her way.'

She would probably take his advice and head for camp, retracing their original route as closely as possible. Retracing a path deemed safe was a ranger's habit. He knew that from several repetitions of today. As they ran back, Encrid's hands grew busy. He unfastened his sword, scabbard and all, from his belt and began swinging it to either side as he ran. More precisely, he thrust it at the ground, then flicked it upward. TAP! WHOOSH! TAP! WHOOSH!

Flat stones rose into the air after the sheathed blade. Using his sword as a club, he batted them backward. "Hmph!"

More than five spearmen were close behind, some of the unit's fastest runners. The man at the front snorted. Trying to stop him with a few flat stones was laughable. Without even raising his shield, he thrust his spear shaft forward. No need to dodge. He meant to knock the stone away without losing speed.

TACK!

He thought it had gone just as intended. And it would have, if not for the long shadow that arced strangely through the air as he struck the stone away.

HISS!

"Agh!"

A snake. A snake had been clinging tight to the underside of the flat stone. "Fucking hell!"

The spearman hastily drew his shortsword and swung.

SWISH!

The snake was cut in two. It wasn't a demonic beast, but it was venomous. One of the spearmen was unlucky. A viper flew out from beneath a stone, coiled around his shin, and sank its fangs into the gap between his boot and armor. Its venom wasn't especially deadly, but pain and numbness spread through his leg. The bitten spearman drew a dagger and stabbed the head of the snake latched onto his leg.

THUNK!

Blood and yellow fluid dribbled from the dead snake's mouth. "Vipers!"

The soldier tore his dagger sheath into a strap and bound it above his calf. Naturally, he stopped. Naturally, the others faltered too. Fucking vipers. Sneaky bastards. The poisoned soldier clenched his molars and glared ahead. All the while, Encrid was putting on a veritable trick show, batting stones with his scabbard. The first had come with vipers attached. After that, he mixed in ordinary stones. But anyone who lacked the knowledge to tell them apart had no choice but to dodge or deflect every single one. "You son of a bitch."

The commander caught up, took in the situation, and glared. He had been so close to catching that wildcat of a woman. "Shields up! Keep running!"

His decision worked. Neither stones nor snakes could stop soldiers running behind their shields with only their eyes peeking over the rims. Of course, Encrid had never dreamed of defeating them with a few vipers.

'All those things Henri taught me are coming in handy.'

He had heard that vipers hid beneath flat, ocher-colored stones. Since they happened to be passing this way, he had put that knowledge to use. It worked quite well. He had put one man out of action and slowed the rest. "Hah, hah... Why the camp?"

With the enemy's pace slowed, Pin adjusted her speed and drew alongside him to ask. Torres came closer too, apparently wondering the same thing. Encrid glanced back before answering.

"Whew... We need allies of our own to take on that many."

Pin's face twisted. "Hah, hah... It's empty already. My people have moved."

Pin had misunderstood. So had Torres. Encrid feigned surprise, then spoke. "We can't change course now. We'll use the camp to circle around, then pick a new direction."

By now he spoke casually without hesitation and even took the lead. Pin and Torres knew they had no other answer. They could only keep going. The backs of their heads prickled. Their pursuers were gaining on them again, breath steaming as they closed the distance. They could run like that while keeping their ranks and files aligned? It was astonishing. How much training did elite soldiers need to make that possible? Only after seeing that did Pin identify the enemy unit.

"Fuck. I think they're those Gray Hounds bastards."

The Gray Hounds. The gray hunting dogs. Better known as the Persistent Lovers. Encrid had quite a history with them too. Mitch Hurrier had belonged to that unit, and they had sent him the gift of whistle daggers wrapped in a mixed-blood Fairy. In other words, these were elite soldiers to rival the Border Guard. Encrid already knew that, but pretended to be surprised.

"Oh, really?" The trouble was, even that sounded oddly relaxed. Neither of his companions had the attention to spare for it, though. The stronger the enemy, the better. That was what Encrid thought to himself. Before this today, there had been seventy-eight others. What had he done during them? He had honed his split-second judgment against dozens of elite soldiers, and fished for information by asking Roger seemingly pointless questions. Now he was pouring everything he had learned into action. All three picked up speed. The sight of the men pursuing them put strength into their legs without conscious effort. "Hah! Hah! Hup!"

Beside him, Torres ran while regulating his breathing. "Dis—hah—gusting bastards!"

Pin did the same. Judging by how she still found breath to curse, she really did hate those bastards. On the way to camp, Encrid deliberately took a detour. Pin noticed but said nothing. There was even a saying: "Rangers lead the way." In a situation like this, it was only natural for her to go first. But Encrid had taken the lead so matter-of-factly. He went first. What else could she do but follow? And so they reached the camp. The burrows they had dug were filled in now, all traces erased. A few trees stood alone to one side, with several small mounds. And across from them lay a sight they had never expected. AWOOOO!

A pack of wolf-men. "Oh, fuck!"

Monsters. More than twenty wolf-men gathered together—creatures they couldn't be sure of beating even at full strength. From the way the one at the front led them, they had formed an outright colony. 'This is the worst.'

In that moment, Pin nearly gave up on living. Torres's eyes darted about as he tried to make sense of the situation. Only Encrid, he alone, was steadying his breathing for what came next. 'This is the turning point.'

Half of it was a gamble, but his repeated todays had made sure it wouldn't remain one. A gamble he knew how to win.

Encrid stepped forward to win it.