Chapter 129 - Heart of the Superhuman

Bell was among the soldiers at the front. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' He had no luck. He might have been better off dying in the first blow. A Giant, of all things. And he couldn't even retreat from it. Wasn't First Company supposed to deal with something like that? Or the Border Guard? The Turtle heavy infantry were on the allied left flank, and the Border Guard were nowhere to be seen. Had the whole lot gone off to get fucking drunk? Bell felt sweat trickle down his back. His hands tingled with tension. His legs felt ready to give way. And the Giant was just standing there fucking laughing, doing nothing. No, that first hammer blow had already shown them everything. Anyone who could look at that strike, at the carnage its overwhelming strength had wrought, and remain calm had something wrong with their head. 'Fuck.' Bell knew death was coming. When that hammer moved, he would be next. The front rank had burst apart, and somehow he had ended up right at the front. "We're fucked."

His Squad Leader spoke right beside him. He looked no better. With his eyes darting like that, it was a wonder he hadn't shouted for them to run. Not that they could. Those so-called vanguard commanders waiting behind them would turn into executioners and cut down anyone who fled. Seeing his Squad Leader so frightened beside him actually put Bell at ease. Damn it, he'd just die, then. The moment you stepped onto a battlefield, you mortgaged your life to heaven. The debt must have come due. That was how he decided to think of it. "We're going to die anyway."

His Squad Leader looked at him. Bell met his gaze and gave him the smile of a man who had given up on everything.

"I'd like to take at least one toe with me." They said a Giant's hide was too tough for ordinary sword blows to cut. But was it really? What if he got right up close and sawed away at it? Even solid dragon bone ought to give if you pressed close and kept sawing. Who knew? Might as well try. "The flower of the battlefield..."

Bell spoke. There was no sorrow in his voice. It was resolve. His life was already on the line, so he would spend it with everything he had. Only an idiot wouldn't even try to dodge when lightning struck. He had learned that by watching a man named Encrid. A man who kept going endlessly, who truly didn't know the meaning of giving up. How could anyone spend time beside someone like that and learn nothing? Bell had learned. Now he would put it into practice. His Squad Leader answered instinctively.

"Is the infantry." Then it was time to fight. Which meant it was time to die. Or perhaps to set out on the road to death. Just then, the Giant bastard lifted the hammer hanging at its feet. GRRRRK. The mass of iron rose, scraping across the gravel. The fog was beginning to clear, revealing blood and bits of flesh stuck to the hammerhead like mashed bread. He could see it clearly. Far too clearly. That was death. That was the debt coming due. "Heh heh heh."

That damned cavernous laugh came again as the Giant raised its hammer. Last time it had swung vertically. Now it lifted the weapon and turned it sideways. Wanted to kill a few more at once, did it? Bell was trying to work out whether he could dodge. Could he duck low enough? Would a hammer swung by something that huge reach all the way to the ground? It didn't look promising. The Giant bent its knees. The hammerhead was too big. At that angle, he would have to jump over it—or get out of its reach altogether. "This is too fucking much, you bastards."

One of the soldiers called back toward the rear, his voice thick with tears.

"What about the retreat signal? They blew the whistle and we just missed it, right?"

A recruit. Still green. "Shit, fuck, damn it, you bastards."

Another soldier did nothing but curse. The Giant knew how to fight. Had it kept attacking, it would never have achieved this. The brief lull had planted fear in their hearts. It had killed their spirits first. "Hah!"

Even its battle cry sounded like shit. With that cry, it unleashed the blow it had prepared. WHOOOOSH! Once again, strength beyond human limits tore through the air, hurtling toward them in the form of a hammerhead. WHOOM! Out of options, Bell pressed himself tight against his shield and planned to jump as the blow struck. Maybe, if things went well, he could live? Of course he would die. Still, he meant to try to hold on. Death shadowed every soldier's eyes. Bell couldn't even properly see the hammer move. Instead, a figure suddenly stepped in front of him. 'Huh?'

Before he could make sense of it— CLAAAAANG! An explosive crash battered his ears. The impact was so absurdly powerful that he felt as though its shock wave were pushing him backward. Only then did Bell see. "... What the fuck?"

The bewildered curse escaped him on its own. Really, this was just one moment after another that left him no choice but to swear. "Hey, you big fucking idiot. Pick on someone in your own league."

The figure blocking the way spoke. Bell was looking at an ally's back. He looked impossibly small before the Giant, but he had stopped the hammer with an axe in each hand. Veins stood out as though ready to burst on his axe-wielding forearms. For some reason, he had torn the sleeves off his gambeson and was wearing it like a vest. But he had stopped it. His feet had slid a little sideways, leaving furrows in the gravel, but he had stopped it. What was this? Bell couldn't wrap his head around it. Then:

"... We're alive."

It was the recruit. He was crying. Everyone heard his tearful voice. The moment Bell understood, his chest swelled. He almost burst into tears himself. Along with the joy of being alive, there was the sight of that back. The man who had once filled allies and enemies alike with unspeakable horror now looked utterly dependable. Giants were monsters. Red-blooded demonic beasts. They were said to worship violence, to be mad for slaughter. So fucking what? They had one here too. A lunatic. A monster. The kind of monster who lowered his own army's morale just by stepping out to fight. "Got honey sealing your trap shut? Why so quiet?"

The monster spoke, in the same thoroughly obnoxious tone as always. Today, it sounded like a heavenly orchestra. "You... woooorm!"

The Giant raged, and Rem smirked. What was this idiot babbling about?

* * *

Rem was in a good mood. So good that it brought his first battle to mind. All thanks to sparring with his Platoon Commander. Could one spar really do this to him? Probably because so much had built up. Now that he had so thoroughly let off steam, he wanted a proper fight. He wanted to show Encrid, too. Now, watch. This was what he would learn next. Even as a child, Rem had never batted an eye at an axe blade flying toward him. Yet even he had learned, mastered, and trained the heart of the beast. Why would he have learned it if it offered nothing but boldness and composure? That would have been useless to him. Naturally, he had learned it, mastered it, and trained it because it was useful. Because the heart of the beast didn't stop at giving courage. What came next could be considered at least half Rem's own invention. His, not his tribe's. THUMP. His heart beat twice as fast as usual, sending blood coursing through his body. His blood flow accelerated. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP! His blood vessels expanded. His muscles swelled, their density changing. The spell-like technique that began in his heart imbued his body with truly superhuman strength. Rem had decided to call it Heart of the Superhuman. His tribespeople used it only to stave off aging, so this was, in fact, a technique only Rem used. Learn it wrong, and your heart would burst and kill you. Or your blood vessels would burst. Or your muscles would rot and you'd fucking die. Well, there was no helping how difficult it was to learn. He had told Encrid to watch and learn, but the choice would be his. Of course, if he wanted to learn, Rem would teach him slowly, one step at a time. He would drill it into him little by little, without killing him. It would hurt a bit, but Encrid would ignore the pain and learn anyway. Having blocked the Giant's hammer, Rem unleashed his superhuman strength and swung his axe. WHOOM! The hammer came crashing down at a terrifying speed. Rem struck it with his axe. CLANG! CRRRACK! BANG! The axe blade couldn't withstand the impact. It shattered—practically exploded. And that was with him deflecting as much force as he could. Rem flung his left arm outward, sending the broken blade fragments flying to one side. Some of them buried themselves in the Giant's wooden armor in quick succession. 'Should I have used something better?' He could just use clubs like that perverted religious nut. Rem wasn't picky about weapons, but axes did fit his hands best. THUD. He discarded the remaining axe handle and flicked up a spear caught against his toe. A spear in his left hand, an axe in his right. Holding a weapon in each hand, Rem grinned in utter satisfaction. At last, an enemy worth fighting. And right after sparring with Encrid had put him in such a splendid mood. "Come on. Let's have some fun." Their fight grew fierce. So fierce that literally no one could get close. BANG! BANG! CLANG! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG! Rem picked up fallen spears and thrust, struck with his axe, and when a weapon broke, grabbed another lying on the ground. When even those were about to run out— "Hey, throw them over."

Quick on the uptake, Bell threw the weapon in his hand. Spears and hatchets followed. Someone also threw a dagger at the Giant, aiming for its eye. It merely whipped its head around and took the dagger on its forehead. CLUNK! What kind of skin was that? The sharp dagger spun away through the air without leaving so much as a scratch. Then what the hell was Rem, fighting a thing like that? They didn't know. All they knew for certain was that this monster was protecting them. Encrid watched Rem fight. It was fierce. Brutal. More than anything— 'He's matching a Giant in strength?' Didn't that mean he was stronger than a Frog? Was that it? What Rem had told him to learn next, what he had told him to watch closely? His heart thudded. It raced at the prospect of learning something new. For Encrid, the desire to learn was a fundamental hunger. "We can go now. He's just playing around."

Ragna spoke beside him. Rem looked happy as he fought the Giant. Yes, Encrid could see it now. He could win, could kill it, but he was testing it instead. Why? 'For me to watch?'

The thought crossed his mind, though that might be reading too much into it. Rem just seemed excited. "Let's get on with our own work."

Ragna looked impatient, too. Why? Why was he so eager to fight? Normally, he didn't have an ounce of motivation. "Come on."

With all that urging, Encrid started moving. He seemed to have seen everything Rem wanted to show him. They needed to head right, but Ragna kept setting off in strange directions. Encrid caught hold of him and steered him along. "Things should be all right if we can just clear this side."

Krais spoke from close behind him. Would they? Encrid couldn't see the overall course of the battle. What mattered was now. The present. As they moved right, he saw the enemy gathered there. Ten men who looked perfectly at ease. What was this? Some twist of fate? When he got close enough to see their faces, Encrid realized he knew the man standing in the middle. Why was that man here? The man recognized Encrid, too. Admittedly, Encrid was handsome enough that his face was hard to forget once seen. "You? You're still alive?"

Recognizing Encrid, the man widened his eyes, blinked a few times, then asked with a smile that curved even his eyes. The way those triangular eyes twisted hardly made for a pleasant sight. "I am."

At Encrid's flat reply, Ragna asked with his eyes. Someone you know? "Back when I was a mercenary..."

Realizing an explanation would take too long, Encrid shortened it.

"An asshole I met." Yes, that was all the description this piece of trash deserved. A bastard who stabbed his own allies in the back and had a habit of raping women, then killing them. He should have killed him back then. He'd heard the man had fled somewhere after crossing a noble. So this was where he'd ended up. "Heeey, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Friend? Encrid felt a rare surge of disgust. Friends with that? Ragna asked with his eyes again. "No. An asshole."

At that short, emphatic clarification, Ragna nodded. "Ha. Well, you always did have a clever tongue. But how'd you manage to stay alive? Been bending over for people somewhere?" Encrid had heard insults like that often as a mercenary. It was his face. He'd heard them now and then after joining the army, too. This was the first in quite a while, though. No one had mocked him that way lately. Who would, now that he had proved himself through skill? So Encrid shrugged off the provocation. Ragna paid it little mind, too. The man would be dead soon anyway. "You cut that one down, then, Captain."

Ragna stepped aside as he spoke. He seemed to be claiming the other nine for himself. "Just three of you against ten of us?"

"I'm not fighting. You only need to go after these two."

Krais spoke from behind them. Encrid surveyed his surroundings. What had these ten done? The allied soldiers clearly weren't eager to attack. He saw corpses strewn around them. Bodies riddled with holes. Those were the marks of the weapon that asshole had favored. Encrid let his gaze slide over the other corpses. He saw wounds hacked, cut, and stabbed into them by swords, spears, and daggers. But the wounds were strangely ugly. The punctures, too. Almost as though they had been torturing them. "They're drunk on the Murderous Blade. They try to improve their skills through killing. It's fine. Didn't I tell you before? Stray from the proper path, and there's a hard limit to how far you can go."

Ragna spoke beside him. He had. He had said that clinging to the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique would leave Encrid like that. He would reach his limit. So he needed to build his fundamentals anew. And he had. He had rebuilt them and moved forward again. His path now had signposts. Encrid drew his sword. SHING. "That one's mine." Just as Ragna had said. Call it a grudge, or a scene in a tale of revenge. Encrid decided to honor the companion whose heart a harpy had torn out, and the others who had died that day.

By cutting off that perverted piece of shit's head.