Chapter 108 - A Decisive Gamble

'This looks like it'll work.'

Facing the wall, Pin could definitely feel less watchfulness than before. She had not attained Sixth Sense, but she had instincts of her own as a ranger and pathfinder. Following behind her, Torres wondered whether this really was the right course, then inwardly shook his head.

'This isn't the time to agonize over it.'

Once he committed, he followed through. He was a member of the Border Guard, a special-grade soldier under Naurilia's soldier grading system. He might not be worth a hundred men, but he was a useful man who could do the work of two or three. And Encrid?

"I'll go first."

He did not bother letting Pin take the lead. He began climbing briskly, slotting his hands into gaps in the wall. He had taken off his ruined gambeson and used a few throwing weapons, but the longsword still clattered at his waist. "... What the hell does that guy do?"

He climbed walls better than she did, and she was a ranger. It was a fair question. "I don't know either. I'm getting there."

"What?"

Torres went over his own words and realized how strange they sounded.

"I mean, I thought I knew him a little before, but now I don't."

"Well, whatever. Keep up." Encrid climbed the wall at tremendous speed. It was an art. He would put a monkey to shame. His hands and feet moved in long, sure reaches without hesitation, and Pin followed him. They had come in such a hurry that she had only two pegs, which meant only two ropes to hang on the wall. Looking down, she saw Torres barely keeping up. He was struggling, but he had always been exceptionally athletic. 'Then what does that make him?'

Pin looked up again. Encrid had already nearly reached the top and stopped in a crouch beneath the parapet. The parapet was, simply put, a thick, high defensive structure built atop the wall. In other words, without considerable skill, climbing over it barehanded and dropping onto the wall's inner side was difficult. 'Can't he get over that part?'

That seemed unlikely. As for Pin, she could hang by her fingertips, pull her upper body up, then swing herself over with a flex of her waist. And if she used the little hook she carried just in case? Easier still. With the hook secured and the rope wound around her hand, she could vault right over. Once across, she only had to take her companions' hands and pull them up after her. At any rate, Encrid did not seem to have stopped because he could not get over. Hanging just below the parapet, he did not even look strained. He glanced down and moved his fingers. It was a simple hand signal, easy enough to understand.

[Guards.] Was he saying he could sense someone on the other side? Pin herself could hear nothing, sense nothing.

'He's more sensitive than I am, and I'm a ranger?' In truth, Encrid could sense nothing either. He simply knew from experience. Hanging below the parapet, he pondered.

'What trick did she use?' Blocking Sixth Sense. That was the one thing he had never managed to figure out, even through all the repeated todays. She must have used some kind of spell. Otherwise, he could not possibly feel so at ease. In the Tunnel, he could accept that it had been too late by the time he felt the foreboding, since he was already inside. He could even accept missing the Lycanthrope pack because monsters constantly roamed this land in front of Cross Guard. But failing to notice the troops hidden atop the wall as well? She had definitely played some trick. Until his sixtieth today, he had strained to uncover what that trick was, but...

'Leave it.'

It was a matter of priorities. Plenty of things mattered more than the mage's trick, and his ultimate goal was clear. To get beyond today.

To train in the time he had.

And so to move forward, guided by his sword. Would giving up on figuring it out cause a problem? Not in the slightest. He already knew what he needed from the todays he had repeated.

'About here, perhaps.' Hanging from the parapet, Encrid edged to the left. He needed gaps in the wall to cling to, but this side of Cross Guard had to contend with ordinary monsters and, occasionally, even colonies. As a result, it was scarred all over. Repairs had been made, but plenty of gaps remained. With his fingers hooked into them and his toes wedged in, he had no trouble moving. As he shifted position high on the wall, he pictured what lay beyond it. The first time he had reached this spot, he had only been able to predict and guess. Now, he could even work out where the mage named Retsha stood.

No, he was certain. That arrogant mage had never moved from her spot in any of his repeated todays. Once in position, he gave another hand signal.

[You two go first.]

Pin and Torres began moving at the signal. Pin first, then Torres. Hanging from the parapet, she reached out to help him, and the instant they both went over... WHOOSH.

Fire blazed brightly overhead. Seven or eight torches would have ignited at once. He had seen it more than a few times. "How did you make it here? My children were definitely on the move."

Retsha's voice. Just beyond the wall, as expected. She did not know him, but he knew where she was. That alone gave him the advantage. And he knew her name and the spells she used, too. "Oh, shit."

Torres swore.

"He was right."

Hearing Pin's mutter, Encrid reached up. He caught the edge of the parapet with his fingertips and pulled himself up with just one arm. His strength had repeatedly impressed Rem and the other squad members. On top of that, his repeated training with the Isolation Technique made his body feel lighter. He hauled himself up, and the moment his head cleared the parapet, he tucked into a forward roll in midair. It bordered on acrobatics, a move he could never have dreamed of before. But thanks to his Isolation Technique training and all the countless tumbles he had taken, he spun through the air and dropped below the parapet. Uncurling his body, he slammed his feet down with his knees bent. WHOOSH, THUD.

Unable to break his fall with a roll, he sent a tremor through the stone beneath him. Retsha stood directly in front of him, her eyes wide with utter astonishment. "You—"

Encrid's hand moved before she could get anything else out. FWEEE!

Whistle daggers. Retsha was surprised, but not rattled. Where had this one sprung from? That was all she thought. Naturally, she could afford that composure because she had something to rely on. An intangible barrier conjured by a spell surrounded her, a shield that could stop even a quarrel fired at point-blank range. She waited for the blades to strike her barrier. But Encrid's whistle daggers were not aimed at her. They were aimed at the throats of four crossbowmen beyond her. THUD-THUD-THUD.

With Concentrate on a Single Point activated, his whistle daggers struck their targets precisely. All that training had paid off. Four enemy soldiers toppled. And just before they fell, Retsha reacted.

"Kyah!"

The strange cry burst from her mouth. A thorny vine promptly whooshed up from the ground, bending like a whip as it lashed at his waist. The fight began now. "The soldiers first!"

Encrid shouted as he drew his sword. SHING!

He swung the drawn blade. Perhaps it was the intensity of his concentration, but his head burned hot.

'Cut the thin ones. Knock the thick ones aside.' He moved using the Flowing Sword Technique as his foundation rather than the Heavy Sword Technique. He had never received proper instruction in it, but... ["It helps to know the basic principles of swordsmanship. Learning only the Heavy Sword Technique just because that's what you use would be stupid. You need to know your opponent's swordsmanship to counter it and fight, don't you?"] Ragna was usually hopelessly lazy, only mustering what little enthusiasm he had when it came time to teach Encrid. But sometimes, very occasionally, he burned with passion. He had said that on one such day. Afterward, Encrid had learned the basic principles of each sword technique. And he had practiced against the vines more than seventy times since. Those seventy-odd todays now bore fruit. He cut the thin ones and knocked the thick ones aside. THUD-THUD-THUD, RATTLE. CLANG.

Some thorny vines were as thick as his forearm. They struck as hard as clubs, but he caught them on the flat of his blade, lowered his stance, and diverted them upward. The Flowing Sword Technique. "You bastard!"

Retsha was furious. How dare he evade her vines? A mere swordsman? Her hand moved, and three or four vine spears came flying at him, along with a vine whip. Encrid did not clumsily rely on instinct. Instead, he opened his eyes wide. It felt as though he had channeled all of Concentrate on a Single Point into his eyes. As though his eyeballs were burning. Like this, he could see everything, each attack seemingly moving slowly. He repeated the same actions again. Knocking aside, swinging, striking, redirecting, cutting with his sword. Feeling? He had thrown that shit away. Sixth Sense? He had no need of it now. There was no reason to rely on instinct. He only needed to see it all, strike, dodge, and swing. As he deflected and evaded those two volleys of vines, screams rang out around him. The soldiers' death cries. Torres and Pin were not to be underestimated either. Torres's abilities shone especially brightly when someone else drew attention away from him. Hadn't Encrid seen his skill with daggers firsthand? "Very well. I'll make you dance until you die."

Retsha held her anger inside, her eyes gleaming. Her snakelike eyes fixed on Encrid, and he ignored them. He had seen this any number of times already. His heart of the beast pounded as though speaking. No, it was Rem. He could almost hear Rem saying:

"If you're going to fall for that crap, tear that heart out."

Don't worry, Rem, you crazy bastard. He wasn't going to fall for anything like that. When even her evil eye failed to make him flinch, the mage's vines grew fiercer. SWISH.

They grew thinner and faster. FWIP-FWIP-FWIP.

Until now, Retsha's vines had mostly taken the form of spears and whips. But once he pushed her this far, they took the form of arrows. They were not actual arrows, but their thickness and the ferocity with which they shot toward him were the same. Could a human stop a rain of arrows?

'No.'

Not unless he was a knight. But if he had to? If the moment came when he had to bat aside a rain of arrows? What was he supposed to do if there was no way to dodge?

'What else?'

Accept that he was as good as dead and do it anyway. Was that a soldier's spirit? Or an infantryman's spirit? No, that was simply the sort of man Encrid was. No giving up. No regrets. He had staked everything in his life on moving forward. Gripping his sword tightly in both hands, he concentrated through the burning pain in his eyes.

'Connect the points.'

Then use those connecting lines to knock everything aside. Thinly twisted vines shot upward from below, raining in from all directions. The instant he confirmed there were more than ten, he stopped counting. He spread his concentration outward around his body. Spreading his concentration: something he had learned between the Lycanthrope pack and the Gray Hounds. Using it to evade attacks that entered his domain. And there was something he had learned before that, in the fight inside the Tunnel. Split-second judgment. Acting without hesitation in any situation, in a fleeting instant. Encrid combined the two and put them into action. THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.

Vines tore apart in every direction in the air before him, bursting with green fluid. A vein bulged on Retsha's forehead, and her eyes grew bloodshot. The vines did not stop. Neither did Encrid's blade. Pin and Torres, still fighting the soldiers, stole a glance at the spectacle. Simply saying he fought well no longer seemed enough. Thinking this, Torres slit a soldier's throat from behind. TWANG!

A quarrel flew toward his position. The bolt struck the belly of the soldier he had killed with a sharp thud.

"Why don't you look before you shoot?" CRACK.

"Aaaaagh!"

A scream came from one side at that moment. It was Pin's work as she slid along the ground like a snake. A soldier foamed at the mouth, his leg bent and twisted in a direction it should never bend. She did not stop. If she did, she would take a quarrel. All the while, Encrid and the mage kept fighting. No one could go near them. Sharp, thorny vines flew like needles, with a few occasionally ricocheting away to stab into the surrounding stonework. Everyone who had no wish to die at their own mage's hands backed away. That also gave Torres and Pin a little breathing room. Seeing those sharp vine arrowheads punching holes in the wall, Torres had no wish to go near them either. 'Will killing the soldiers even solve this?'

With that thought, he realized that the outcome of this fight rested on those two. If the mage won, he and Pin would be dead as well. But how long could Encrid hold out? To both Torres and Pin, Encrid seemed to be in one crisis after another. Some of the vines he had been dodging until moments ago had begun grazing his body. Just then, the mage's voice rang out.

"Did you come at me trusting those scraps of leather you wear?"

A low murmur, without a hint of agitation, certain that victory was in her grasp. 'This isn't good.'

That was what Torres thought. And he was right. Encrid was in one crisis after another. He had quickly reached his limit. But this was the moment Encrid had been waiting for. The moment Retsha became certain of victory, while Torres, Pin, and the enemy soldiers watched their fight. Encrid shifted the sword he had been swinging with both hands into his left hand alone. His right hand moved.

It was a decisive gamble.