Chapter 127 - Today's Victory Does Not Guarantee Tomorrow's (3)

"Mm."

It was the dead of night. Esther raised her head at Encrid's groan. 'Stupid human.'

Why did he push his body like this? Esther had learned her lesson before: if she used all her power to relieve his fatigue, her own body ended up exhausted first. How had that happened? She had been too engrossed in the grimoire Encrid had picked up. 'It does have its uses.'

But there was much she needed to assess and sift through before using it. As she puzzled over it alone, she suddenly remembered that, in her current state, she could not even see her own spell world. She felt wretched. 'How did I end up like this?' "Hah..."

Her self-pity lasted only a moment. Before she could lament her lot, the man holding her groaned again. A mad human who began every day with training, no matter what. She did not know what he harbored within him, but whatever it was, it was slowly breaking down the curse on her body. 'Let's get on with it.'

The process accelerated when he was in good condition, so Esther worked to ease his fatigue as usual. Unable to open her spell world, she used her own body as a medium to draw the fatigue out of his and disperse it. In the process, fragments of his dreams or thoughts sometimes appeared in her mind. Before, she had seen nothing but swords, or things like a deep, dark well. Today, she caught a glimpse of a dream. It seemed to be a fragment of his past. Amid the jumble of the dream, someone's face began to take shape. For some reason, its owner had left a deep impression on the man holding her, and so the face appeared vividly. Esther frowned at the sight.

'Ugly as hell.' Actually, rather than ugly... How should she put it? He looked utterly vile. That was the impression he gave. More precisely, that must have been how this human called Encrid saw him. Esther watched his dream. A long time within it, but only an instant in reality. 'Stop wandering.'

Just do what you always did. Esther chided him. How was she supposed to disperse his fatigue while he was having a dream like that? With those words, the dream ended, and the groans ceased. Soon, all Esther could hear was the breathing of a man deep in sleep.

* * *

The moment Encrid opened his eyes, he knew this was a dream.

'Again?' He was simply surprised to be having the same dream again. If the ferryman of the black river had appeared, he would have taken it in stride. But this moment from his past... How many times had he dreamed it now? Once, he had considered it a nightmare. But after remembering and revisiting it so often, it had become just another moment. ["You... Hmm. I'll let you live."] A sharp spike of killing intent. A mercenary with triangular eyes. Lying beside him was a companion Encrid had taken the job with. They had known each other for barely three days, but they had to watch each other's backs and fight together. Or rather, they had had to. It had begun with a commission to hunt demonic beasts.

["A harpy or two have been causing trouble. We'd like you to kill them."] The village was on the kingdom's outskirts. Every resident had emptied their pockets to scrape together the Krona, they had said. The village chief's son had traveled to the nearest city and hired five mercenaries. Encrid had been one of them. So had this bastard. CAAAW! A crowlike cry. Swaying breasts. A harpy's talons plunging down. The harpy's strike killed a companion he had known for quite some time. ["Read the situation before you stick your neck out. Keep that up and you'll never live out your days."]

A mercenary with a sharp tongue but a decent heart. He should not have died like this. It had happened because the triangular-eyed bastard stabbed him from behind. A simultaneous attack from front and rear, timed to the harpy's strike. He had fallen to a coordinated attack by a monster and a human. Then the triangular-eyed mercenary drew his sword and swung. TRRING! The thin blade swept around him with a strange ringing sound. It bent and lashed out, too fast to see clearly. SWISH! His sword made a very distinctive sound as it cut through the air. Then the blade pierced a companion's skull. His heart, his thigh, his forearm, too. The tricks of that supple, bending blade killed the man. After killing them all, the bastard had said he would let Encrid live. A nasty smile. Killing intent dispersing. Eyes that said he was not even worth fighting. Encrid had not raged or shouted. He had silently raised his sword. ["What? You want to fight me?"]

Words were unnecessary. Before they had exchanged more than a few blows, there was a hole in Encrid's shoulder. ["I told you, I'm letting you live."]

That was all. Then he left. Encrid's survival afterward had been more than half luck. ["I heard everyone died. How did you...?"] He had barely escaped the land where demonic beasts and monsters dwelled and reached the village. After recuperating there, he had made another journey with his life on the line to reach the city. The bastard was already gone. Encrid could not even lodge a complaint with the guild the man belonged to. Somehow, he had become one of its central figures. Even so, a few years later, rumors spread that he had become a wanderer. Had he messed with the wrong nobleman's daughter? The reason he had killed Encrid's companions had been much the same. ["Who the fuck are you to give me shit?"]

It had happened because another mercenary, who knew his old habits, had reprimanded him. Why had he spared Encrid? Encrid had never asked, so he did not know. But he had glimpsed something like self-satisfaction. Encrid was a mercenary who posed no threat. The man did not kill just anyone. There had been reasons those others deserved to die. That sort of self-satisfaction. ["Pathetic bastard."]

His parting words. Encrid had thought the world unfair. He had also learned that skill and character were separate things. 'He was a fucking bastard.'

A dream was only a dream. Had Encrid been an ordinary man, he would have made the man the object of his revenge. But he had not. Given the chance, he would take up his sword and hold him accountable for his crimes, but he had not burned his life away for that alone. He had not thrown his life away for the companion whose heart the harpy had torn out. With all those grudges and memories behind him, he simply burned his life in pursuit of his dream. That was how Encrid lived. Steadfast and unyielding. 'You're not even worth killing.'

Even when someone regarded him that way, rather than let it wound him, he simply pressed onward. Even when dark, clammy memories, full of fear and pain, threatened to eat away at him, he silently endured and shook them off. 'Pointless.'

Did despair and anguish weighing on his shoulders help him wield a sword? Could they be useful signposts on the road toward the life he longed to live? No. So he did not indulge them. Instead of despairing, he swung his sword. Instead of dwelling on his companions' deaths, he swung his sword. Instead of vowing revenge, he swung his sword. "Shall I kill you this time?"

The dream twisted. Somehow, he thought he could see the ferryman dimly behind the bastard. The memories of that day surged like waves, becoming a turbulent sea that stained everything around him. MEOW. A languid animal cry came from somewhere. That was all it took. The dream blurred and shattered. 'Stop wandering.'

He heard someone's voice. Clear and pure, yet warm. That was how it felt. 'Esther?'

For no reason, the blue-eyed panther came to mind. At the end of the shattered, fragmented dream... BWOOOOOO! Encrid opened his eyes to the sound of a horn. This time, it was reality. The familiar tent ceiling greeted him. The panther in his arms slept quietly, breathing softly. A faint warmth heated his chest. He turned toward the tent's opening. The morning sun had yet to rise. Blue light filtered softly inside. Encrid was not the only one to respond to the horn.

"Morning." It was Rem. He sprang up and began gathering his gear.

"Ugh, fuck, it's still cold." The barbarian especially hated the cold. There was not even a biting wind like before, but he complained anyway. His hands never stopped moving, though. He put on his usual fairly thin gambeson, tucked two axes into his belt, and stood ready. Audin rose as well and collected his two clubs.

"May this day be full of blessings. Good morning, brother." No one answered, but no one rebuked him, either. Jaxon had gotten up unnoticed and was already equipped. Ragna was moving early enough that, today at least, it would be hard to call him lazy. Not that he had leaped up and rushed about. He was quietly gathering his gear. Encrid did not merely stand there watching them. Three whistle daggers remained. He put on a thin shirt as an underlayer, then the leather armor with the tear near its right shoulder. The leather was thin and supple, comfortable to wear. Once he added his gambeson, boots, and gauntlets, he was fully equipped. One guard sword at his waist. One knife strapped to his left leg. His right gauntlet still bore the gash from his fight with the Frog. Come to think of it, both his leather armor and his gauntlet were half ruined. 'Could I fix it with some stitching?'

Maybe not. Either way, that was not something to deal with now. Andrew, Mac, and Henri only got called the youngest or dead weight because they were in the Lunatic Platoon. They were seasoned soldiers in their own right. Andrew had also proved his considerable skill by killing an enemy soldier earlier. The excitement of that moment had faded, but his confidence remained. They gathered their gear, too. "What's happening?" Andrew asked.

"What do you think?"

Rem gave him a scornful look. "Looks like they've come out of hiding."

Mac spoke after considering the circumstances. Why else would they sound the horn before dawn, especially when fog obscured their vision? Rubbing his eyes, Krais thought the same thing. Damn it, an attack first thing in the morning was bad for his skin. That idle thought lasted only a moment before his mind began racing. Their army had assigned more soldiers than usual to scouting, and to sentry duty as well. There had been no celebratory drinks to mark their victory. No extra food, either. The fighting was not over yet. Each unit's commander would have kept their troops in line. The battle they had won was won, but they were preparing for the next. There was a battlefield maxim: today's victory did not guarantee tomorrow's. 'He really is a good commander.'

Krais rated Marcus highly. He did not understand every decision the man made, but he found them reasonably rational. "Assemble! All troops, assemble!"

A messenger's voice rang out from outside. Even amid all this, Krais found the enemy's hiding strange. Why had they holed up in their camp? They should have fled if they meant to flee, made a last stand, called for reinforcements, or done something. But simply hiding? Why? The answer to a simple question was not always simple. Sometimes, though, it could be plain and clear. 'Because they think they still have the advantage. Or a chance to turn things around.'

In other words, they had another trick hidden away. The Battalion Commander would know that, too. Now it would come down to whose prediction was more accurate. Was the blade Aspen had prepared sharper? Or was their commander's shield stronger? Well, that was beyond anything Krais could control. "Unless you're planning to stay here alone, how about getting your gear?"

Encrid tapped Krais on the head, interrupting his thoughts.

"Oh, right."

Whatever happened, he was sticking close to this man today. Encrid could see what Krais was thinking. He seemed determined not to leave his side for a while. Otherwise, he would not be bundling himself into a gambeson like that. No one wanted to die, of course, but the care Krais took with his own life was truly impressive. He looked like someone who would find a way to survive, no matter what. Outside the tent, everything bustled. At the horn and the messenger's call, troops were moving and assembling, each in their own way. "Heh heh. I can smell it. Oh, I can smell it."

Rem seemed to be in a good mood. "The fog's annoying, but... Hmm. Not bad."

Ragna was not slacking. "Keep your senses sharp, and fog cannot hinder you."

Jaxon was unusually helpful today. "The Lord tells us there are many vacancies in heaven today."

Audin's prayer sounded fiercer than any he had offered lately. Was he planning to fill those vacancies? It sounded like he was determined to beat people to death. Andrew, Mac, and Henri were there, too. Encrid felt light on his feet. During yesterday's sparring, he had felt strength welling up without end. It had been as though he were drawing on tomorrow's strength as well. 'Good.'

Despite pushing himself so hard yesterday, he felt good today. No, he seemed to feel even better than yesterday. 'No pain in the wrist.'

New flesh had already grown over his cuts and puncture wounds. The work of divine power and Fairy medicine in concert. "All troops, move out! March! Forward! Forward!"

The messenger up ahead raised his voice. Their forces began moving through the fog. The riverside fog was thicker than on any other day, but it did not feel like a spell. That was purely instinct, but unless the enemy were idiots, they would not use the same trick twice. Encrid thought his own side must have prepared for it as well. "Good. This is good."

The bastard Rem kept running his mouth.

"What is?"

"Feels like today's going to be fun." Sometimes Encrid wondered what the hell was inside Rem's head. The problem was that he had the same feeling. Beyond the fog, it felt as though some new enemy was approaching. In other words, his heart had begun pounding with the excitement of battle. Everyone around him, right up to the commander at the front, had finished forming ranks in tense silence when... "Fuuuck!"

A shout burst from one of their soldiers in the vanguard.

"Shoot! Hurry up and shoot!" Through the hazy fog, Encrid could make out a strange sight. A dim gray silhouette. Its body was like a bear's, its head towering high above. A mass even larger than Audin. The monstrous silhouette, with something like a head perched at roughly one and a half times Encrid's own height, was charging through a rain of arrows.