Chapter 11 - Frog

"Fucking hell."

Rem spat and spun his axe in his hand like a juggler. He had just lost the bastard called Claws of the Hawk, or Eyeball, or whatever. It left him feeling as foul as taking a shit without wiping. 'Can't remember the last time I failed a hunt.'

The archer was quick on the uptake and quick on his feet. The instant he sensed Rem, he had bolted. The arrows he shot as he fled had been nasty, too. Rem ran a hand over the mark where an arrow had grazed his left side. No wound. He had merely failed to dodge it completely.

Still, that foul feeling wasn't going away. He had charged diagonally into the enemy formation. Now he stepped back and began making his way to the main force. "Who the fuck is this?"

"Kill him!"

There were hardly any allies around. He had pushed a little too deep, but that hardly bothered him. Instead of grumbling, cursing, or shouting, Rem swung the axes in his hands. The one in his right hand was an enemy's weapon he had picked up along the way, and its balance was atrocious. That hardly mattered either. If he wasn't going to use it, he could just throw it. WHOOSH! CHOP!

The axe in his left hand cleaved through the jaw and neck of the man blocking his path in one stroke. Blood welled, then erupted in a fountain. Rem casually dodged the spray and whipped his right hand forward. The axe sliced through the air. WHOOSH!

Though it wasn't a throwing axe, it flew hard and struck its target.

THUNK!

It split a skull in half and lodged there. Rem barreled on, throwing the enemy ranks into disarray before returning to his own lines. 'Wonder if our squad leader's still alive and kicking.'

He wasn't a man who would die easily. In all his life, Rem had never seen anyone so tenacious.

'Didn't have anyone like him in the tribe, either.' He was probably keeping an eye on things and managing to hold out somehow. It would be a waste for him to die here, though he wasn't exactly suited to the battlefield.

'He'll do all right once he gets the heart of the beast down. Shame about his talent.' Rem had felt so sorry watching him that he had even taught him some of his tribe's secret arts. Not that he meant to play teacher. There were just people like that. People you didn't want to see die in front of you. If they died out of sight, well, there was nothing you could do. Once he was back with the main force, he heard,

"All that rampaging, and nothing to show for it."

Jaxon. One of Squad 444's most distinguishing features was that, aside from Squad Leader Encrid, none of its members got along. The fact that such a squad functioned at all might well prove that its leader possessed some inexplicable, irresistible charm. "Huh? You talking to me because you want to die? Want an axe splitting your skull?"

"The battlefield's a mess because you let the archer get away."

That was definitely picking a fight. Some things you could sense without surveying the whole battlefield from afar. This wasn't the archer's doing. It was the Frog. A Frog Warrior had appeared out of nowhere and torn through the battlefield. For better or worse, it hadn't crossed paths with Rem. "Bullshit. Don't talk to me unless you want to die."

"Crazy barbarian."

They turned away from each other. They had simply crossed paths by chance and traded insults, as usual. Squad 444 didn't bother keeping formation. Everyone fought on their own. Formation or no formation, together or apart, its members stood out.

'Except that Big-eyes bastard.' Rem himself had probably drawn plenty of attention tearing through the enemy ranks. Jaxon specialized in silently appearing out of nowhere. In the distance, Rem spotted a few other squad members, each doing his part. One swung his sword languidly. Another beat men to death with a rigid bearing. Not a normal one among them. Of course, the squad leader topped them all. Just look at him stubbornly fighting to survive with below-average talent. Who could call that "normal"? 'Just in case.'

Rem decided to find the squad leader and protect him. He would discreetly watch his back without letting him notice. He still felt the man was too good to lose.

'Besides, he's the first person on this continent to learn my secret art.' He moved along, coming up with one reason after another. Soon, he spotted Encrid.

'Hmm?' In that brief moment of distraction, an enemy soldier charged him. Rem reflexively tripped the attacker and drove his axe haft up into the man's jaw. The man spat broken teeth. Rem kept turning, pivoting halfway around and driving his elbow sideways into him. THUD! CRACK!

The blow to the helmet made a sound like a thick log snapping. It had broken the man's neck in one hit. Rem rolled his right arm after the strike, his gaze fixed. In fact, his eyes had remained on his squad leader even while he dealt with the attacker.

'He's handling himself well?'

This wasn't how he usually looked. That deftness made Rem watch rather than step in to help. He didn't look likely to lose. And that instinctive impression was becoming reality. He was fighting a fairly capable enemy soldier, displaying a calm and boldness he had never shown before. 'How?'

Could a person change that much overnight?

"I'm amazed, too."

Beside him—Jaxon again. Rem had been wondering why their paths kept crossing. Had this bastard come to watch the squad leader's back, too? "I've been watching him all day. While you were wasting your time."

"And?"

"Thought he must be living with the goddess of luck."

"What?"

"He's had luck on his side." Just luck? Surely luck alone couldn't explain what they were seeing?

"And his skill's improved beyond recognition." Jaxon got along merrily with the other squads, but not with Rem. Well, that went for everyone in this squad. This, for instance, was the longest ordinary conversation they had shared since joining it. That must be how surprised he was. Rem was just as surprised. And then Rem saw two things even more surprising. The first was Encrid dodging the enemy's stab and thrusting his own sword with near-perfect form.

"That's the way!"

The words escaped Rem before he knew it. Jaxon gave a faint nod, too. Tireless effort. Knowing how the squad leader worked himself bloody with a sword in hand, they couldn't help rooting for him. Talent was a funny thing. Sometimes it let you leap several steps in an instant. Both Rem and Jaxon had experienced that, so nothing about their squad leader's performance struck them as incongruous. He, too, seemed to have cleared several steps in a single bound. 'He won.'

His opponent had been no pushover. Rem himself would have needed only a few swings of his axe, of course, but the squad leader would have lost ten times out of ten. Yet he had won. It hadn't looked easy. Small wounds dotted his body. The shield in his left hand was split, fit only for scrap. The leather guards on the backs of his hands, his knees, and elsewhere were torn and ragged. From his heavy panting, his breathing was shot, too. 'The heart of the beast.'

Rem grasped his squad leader's condition at a glance. Boldness and composure. The foundation for those must have been the secret art Rem had taught him.

'He's taken it this far?'

His mastery was astonishing. Rem was about to put it all aside and crack a joke.

"Frog!"

Someone shouted. Another soldier, right behind the squad leader. What was his name? Bell? It had stuck in Rem's memory because it sounded similar to his own. Just as the man said, a Frog was racing forward like a black shadow. Frogs were frog people. Their faces resembled those of frogs, and so did their skin. It was slick, as though coated in oil, making blades and blunt weapons alike slide off. To kill them, you had to pierce their hearts or burn them with magic or spells. That was no easy task. Frogs were born fighters, a race with greater strength and combat sense than humans. They were so specialized for battle that they could become proficient with any weapon in their hands within days. The Frog leaped as though flying, body parallel to the ground, and kicked the squad leader in the side with the sole of its foot. It didn't look ready to stop at one blow. Watching him fly sideways from the kick, it landed with a thud and took its stance. An arm reached back, and a spear shaft was in its hand. Leave it alone, and he would die. Without a doubt. Rem had kicked off the ground the instant he saw the black shadow.

BOOM!

The earth caved in with the explosive report. The force of his push sent dirt spouting up in a little fountain. In that brief interval, he reached the Frog's side. WHOOSH!

No questions, no talk. He swung his axe in a long arc. His body whipped downward, channeling force from his shoulder and arm into the axe blade—

Instead of throwing its spear, the Frog performed an astonishing feat. From its throwing stance, it slid its right foot sideways and whipped the shaft upward as lightly as flicking a wooden stick. The change of stance and swing happened in a single instant. CRASH!

Axe met spear shaft. A ringing shock radiated from the two of them. "Croak. Here to interfere, ugly human?"

"You goddamn frog bastard. That's our squad leader."

"... Is a squad leader supposed to be weaker than a squad member?" The Frog had recognized Rem's skill in an instant. His dash, his axe strike, his judgment. Frogs were born fighters, and if anything rivaled their fighting prowess, it was their discernment. Those bulging, swiveling eyes could gauge an opponent's skill at a glance. Their species was born with a talent assessor's gift. The Frog rolled its eyes about, then backed off.

"Enough. I've calmed down now."

"What, you bastard?"

"Ugly human, that human pierced the 'thing' of a human I knew. I got worked up for a moment. I did teach him, after all. Tsk. Anyway, I'm done now. I'd rather not risk my life fighting here." A Frog's discernment wasn't limited to judging talent. Its combat sense could assess advantages and disadvantages in an instant. Rem didn't think his opponent was necessarily at a disadvantage. Still, if they could avoid a fight, all the better. Fighting a Frog for pocket change? A losing proposition. He understood perfectly what it meant, too. Frogs could even regenerate limbs as long as their hearts weren't pierced. Perhaps because of that, they were sensitive about the word "heart." They wouldn't even use it. And seeing someone beside them die from a pierced heart could drive them out of their minds. A berserk Frog radiated a truly terrifying bloodlust. That was why Frogs without a certain degree of training never entered a battlefield in the first place. Rem mulled over what he knew. 'Damn it. Guess I'm more used to this place now.'

If he could rattle off facts about things like Frogs, life on this continent must have thoroughly soaked into him. The Frog tapped its heart guard. Armor designed solely to protect the heart, a heart guard was also called heart armor. Wearing one meant this Frog had clearly completed the proper procedures before leaving home. They said a Frog city would sooner break an untempered blade than let it leave. A heart guard served as something like a Frog's identification badge. "See you around, ugly human."

Why did this thing keep calling him ugly, anyway? Frogs liked jewels and had a peculiar sense of beauty. They favored good-looking humans. "That face would have been a shame to kill."

The Frog flicked out its tongue as it spoke. The long tongue darted out and back in as though catching a fly. That must have been its version of a smile. He—no, she—glanced toward the squad leader as she spoke, slowly backing away. Females liked handsome men. Males liked beautiful women. That was a trait of Frogs. Apparently, their criteria for choosing mates among their own kind differed from their tastes in humans. For some reason, they liked pretty and handsome humans. Well, that wasn't Rem's concern. "He alive?"

He saw Jaxon holding the squad leader.

"One hit to the side cracked his ribs. But in that split second..."

"Yeah. He tucked his arm in to block." Excellent. Enough to make teaching him worthwhile. Keeping his wits and blocking at the moment of impact must have been thanks to the heart of the beast. Somehow, Rem felt proud. "The impact seems to have rattled his brain. I don't think he'll die, but he might if we leave him like this."

"The fighting's eased up, too. Get him on your back. Let's take him out."

"You carry him. I'll clear the way."

"... One day, you're really going to get my axe in your skull."

"You should watch for a dagger in your back yourself." Rem snorted, but it didn't come to blows. Yes, their squad leader had done well, after all. That was enough. Rem hoisted Encrid onto his back. Ahead of him, Jaxon slowly cleared a path with sword and shield. At first glance, his skill didn't seem particularly impressive. Look closer, though, and you could tell: he was clearing the way without showing even a quarter of what he could do. 'Sneaky wildcat bastard.'

Rem walked on, silently cursing Jaxon. The squad leader on his back merely breathed softly, as though asleep.