Chapter 190 - Open It

GRAAAR!

The Manticore roared at the blow. It drew back as though retreating, then kicked off the ground again. Its massive body tore through the space between them like the wind. WHOOSH!

Its claws ripped through the air. Audin shifted his feet, turning his stance as he swung his hand. More precisely, he slapped the Manticore across the cheek. Its forepaw swept through empty air almost at the very instant the slap landed. That was how fast the exchange had been. Audin's palm was a deadly weapon in its own right, but the Manticore was a high-tier monster. The blow snapped its head around, yet it braced itself and swung its forepaw again. Audin eased back a little, evading it once more. GRAAAAR!

The Manticore's furious roar tore through the air. "Ugh..."

The soldiers groaned again under the oppressive pressure unique to high-tier monsters. And the monster that had unleashed that overwhelming roar...

SMACK!

"None of that."

...received another slap from Audin. This one hit harder than before. Blue-black blood trickled from the corner of its mouth, a drop falling to the ground. "Hmm."

"Ahem."

"That's, um..."

The soldiers spoke without realizing it. The sight was shocking enough to momentarily free their bodies from paralysis. What kind of madman slapped a monster into that state? Had its pride been hurt? Ignoring the pain in its face, the Manticore crouched low. Then it charged again, twice as fast as before. Nor was its attack simple. As it swung a forepaw, its tail whipped forward from behind, striking down like lightning. Audin accelerated to match it, moving fast enough to leave afterimages. WHOOSH!

The forepaw missed again. Then its scorpionlike tail pierced empty air with a whistle. In between, Audin swung his hand again in a crisp motion. SMAAACK!

What on earth was that sound? Encrid was inwardly astounded. He had watched every exchange, missing nothing. What had initially resembled a sword form had now become nothing more than a series of slaps. This was probably the first time the Manticore had encountered an opponent who surpassed its physical ability and speed.

'I'd be confused too if I were that Manticore.'

It seemed to feel the same way, tilting its head. Those blows had to be rattling its skull, too. Even so, killing intent soon gleamed in its eyes again. "As a monster ought to be. For the scriptures say that holding a different faith and following a wicked path are not the same."

Audin murmured and beckoned with his hand. The bear-sized man was toying with the Manticore. GRAAR!

The Manticore charged.

SMACK!

It received a slap. A moderate blow snapped its head to the side. A stronger one sent its entire body flying sideways.

THUD! THUD!

Watching the demonic beast tumble across the gallery like a stone that had failed to skip, who would call it a high-tier monster—a Manticore, the terror of soldiers and a monster among monsters? As Audin swung his hand, memories of the old days returned to him for the first time in a while. Monsters, demonic beasts, cultists. Days spent pounding such things to a pulp. He had plenty of experience with this sort of thing. More than enough experience fighting high-tier monsters, in particular. The Manticore kept attacking despite the repeated slaps, but its face was beginning to swell. Several knocked-out teeth rolled across the ground. Just when one might start wondering whether to pity it, Encrid sensed a small disturbance below. More precisely, he heard something like a faint groan and saw a shadow shift. "Seems we have visitors downstairs too. I'll head down first," Encrid said. "Of course, brother."

Audin actually turned around and smiled. Seeing an opening, the Manticore lunged. This time it was a three-pronged attack. A forepaw, followed by the tail, and finally a snakelike tongue. Audin twisted away from the paw and tapped the tail midway along its length with the back of his hand, deflecting it. He left the tongue alone as it hissed around his neck. "For the Lord has spoken of sins unforgiven."

Audin swung his hand as he spoke, ignoring the tongue. Demonic beasts and monsters always had the advantage at close quarters. That was what one watching soldier had been taught. Then what was he looking at now? SMAAACK!

The sound rang out clearer and harder than ever. One side of the Manticore's face caved in. All of it accomplished with nothing but a palm. The watching soldier needed to piss. Monsters were frightening, and demonic beasts were frightening, but the most frightening thing here was that man pretending to smile benevolently. "Devote yourself to God and wash away the sins upon your flesh. Your sullied soul shall be washed and licked clean anew. Thus shall you seek forgiveness for your sins, again and again."

His tone was benevolent. So was his smile. But his blows? "I think I pissed myself."

A fellow soldier muttered beside him. Everyone watching felt much the same. Having watched the Manticore's face cave in, Encrid patted that soldier's shoulder just before heading down.

"Smells like piss."

With that, he descended from the gallery. He picked up speed, almost kicking off the steps as he went. Below, he saw a soldier loitering before the small postern beside the main gate. Encrid did not recognize his face, but he wore the uniform of Border Guard's standing army. He saw the man place a hand on the postern's latch. Beside the postern, another soldier lay slumped against the wall. Dark red liquid flowed from beneath his half-collapsed body. As Encrid approached at a brisk pace, the man with his hand on the latch whipped his head around. Ignoring his gaze, Encrid examined the soldier on the ground. He had gauged the other's skill at a glance; even if the man behind him attacked the back of his head, it would be no problem. That was why he could afford to be so unhurried. He examined the soldier's wound.

'It's not deep.'

Not enough to kill him. With a little grit, he ought to be able to walk. Of course, that was because Encrid's standards were high. The soldier felt as though he were dying. It hurt too much. He had a hole in his stomach; it would have been strange if he felt fine. "You ought to be able to walk."

Encrid spoke while bent over, his back exposed. The soldier with his hand on the latch hesitated. Could he open the door? No, couldn't he just stab him now? Encrid's behavior left him torn, even though he knew this was the famous irresistible Platoon Commander. Meanwhile, Encrid helped the soldier to his feet.

"Urgh, it hurts. It hurts! I've been stabbed in the stomach. I said it hurts!"

"You should be able to walk with a wound like this."

"No, I can't. If I die, tell my younger sister there's a pouch under my bed..."

"You're not going to die." Encrid cut him off. What a fuss this fellow made. Hadn't Encrid died an insane number of times by now? This was not something a dab of spit would fix, but it was hardly enough to cast death's shadow over him. He ripped off part of the soldier's sleeve and bound the wound, more or less stopping the bleeding.

"Ugh!"

The soldier's eyes went wide in pain as Encrid pressed on the wound. He gave him a light push, settling him with his back against the wall. "If you can't walk, you've got a whistle, right? Yes, that. Keep watch, and blow it if things go wrong."

Having said that much, Encrid turned around. The soldier with one hand on the latch and the other on his knife's hilt flinched. He was still debating what to do. Rumors of the irresistible Platoon Commander's exploits stayed his hand. Wasn't the man practically a battlefield hero? Even if he did not know the details of the recent Knoll colony incident, the reputation Encrid had earned before that alone marked him as dangerous. Not that he could handle the ten Black Blade members waiting outside. One hand could hardly contend with ten. And every one of those waiting outside was thoroughly accustomed to killing people. Naturally. Black Blade had come at Vancento's request, and their objective was clear. In this land, real fighting was done by a select few. This was a threat, pressure applied through those elite few. It was not a matter of having sent a mere ten men; sending only ten demonstrated their ability. Of course, no one would be allowed to learn that Black Blade was behind any of it. That was essential. What if they caused a disturbance, then argued that there were too few troops to defend the city? What if they added intelligence that Martai, a rather threatening neighbor, was on the verge of starting a war between the cities? Border Guard would have no choice but to turn to Black Blade for help. The kingdom's central government would have no reinforcements to send, with the south busy holding off the monsters rising there. Black Blade was a bandit gang, but Martai was much the same. It was a city founded by a gathering of eastern mercenaries. Mercenaries were generally regarded that way, but eastern mercenaries were considered particularly uncivilized. It would be inviting a tiger in to drive out a wolf, but they would engineer a situation in which there was no other choice. Those preparations were proceeding steadily. They had even secretly won over several people on the inside. This was Vancento's plan. It began by letting in the people waiting outside. This was the first step. "What are you doing?"

The soldier was sweating coldly as tangled thoughts ran through his head. No, not a soldier—a spy disguised as one. At Encrid's question, he swallowed. His task was to open the door, letting in the Black Blade warriors waiting outside. He had just driven his knife into a soldier's stomach and was about to open it when Encrid came down. The man had appeared out of nowhere, though he should not even have been assigned to patrol duty. The spy had been operating in Border Guard for several months now. He knew Encrid. He gulped, unable to move. One wrong move and he would be cut down. He knew he lacked the skill to face this man, and he had no intention of displaying some noble spirit of sacrifice just to open a door. 'I should have opened it and run earlier.'

He had been too slow to decide. Wondering whether Encrid was trying to lull him into carelessness had cost him his chance. His eyes darted about, seeking an escape. Encrid gave him a casual glance and grasped the rough situation. Above all, he could sense people outside. His keen senses and the intuition added to them told him:

'Open the door. Let the enemy in.' For what purpose? To cause havoc? Something else? He probably would not know until he met them. And the stabbed soldier's wound did not seem fatal. Having finished his rough assessment, Encrid spoke.

"Open it." The spy was visibly flustered. He blinked, his hands trembling. He seemed thoroughly startled.

"... Huh?"

"I said open it." It was close to a gut feeling, but a judgment grounded in the experience and senses he had built up. Left alone, those outside would find another way in. Chasing them afterward would be more trouble. The alarm bell would ring, too. If they wanted a commotion, they might act to provoke just that. For now, things were still quiet. This had happened during a patrol, so an appropriate response should be enough to resolve it. And if anything went wrong, they could always blow the whistle. This was Border Guard, and Encrid had come with Audin. If a whistle sounded here, too... 'Wouldn't Rem come running out in excitement?'

He seemed particularly frustrated lately. Above all, of course, Encrid had a measure of confidence. Whoever or whatever his opponents were, he believed he could hold out quite well. Was that confidence unfounded? No. He had earned it through his dodging sense and dancing with hundreds of Knolls. "... Huh?"

The same vacant response again. The spy was deeply flustered. Encrid strode forward, too boldly for the other man to work out a response. Reflexively, the spy lifted the latch. Then he pushed the door and flung himself in the opposite direction. The postern swung aside with a thump under his push. He tried to flee, turning to run, but... Watching him, Encrid swept a hand through the air. It seemed a meaningless gesture. At least, that was how it looked to the spy, until a throwing knife whistled through the air and buried itself in the back of his thigh. "Agh!"

A short scream. A scream that loud would bring the other sentries nearby. Through the opening door, Encrid saw waiting eyes. Not a small number, though hardly a vast army. He approached the doorway, drew his sword, and thrust it through. Those standing before it backed away from the thrust, and he stepped outside through the gap. As he emerged, Encrid counted them. Ten. "... What kind of lunatic...?"

The speaker was clad in black from head to toe. Encrid studied his face by moonlight. Well, he did not know him. One of them narrowed her eyes. A woman toward the rear with strikingly white hair. Judging by her animal-like ears, she seemed to be a Beastman. "You came out knowing we were waiting here, didn't you?"

Encrid shrugged. She could make of it what she liked. "Crazy bastard."

It was the first man who had spoken. SHING!

One of the black-clad men drew a shortsword and lunged. The attack came with virtually no warning. His step and his drawn blade arrived almost in the same instant. He was very fast. His blade whistled through the night air, peaceful until a moment ago. Fast, but brimming with killing intent. Fast, but following a simple path. Encrid swung his drawn sword upward from below. CLANG!

After knocking aside the shortsword, he lowered his blade and took a stance for another rising diagonal cut. His opponent stepped in the opposite direction. Rather than deliver that upward cut, Encrid casually swung his blade, tracing what looked like two linked circles in the air. Having repositioned his sword, he switched to a downward cut a beat earlier. Specifically, it was one of the strikes in his newly learned swordsmanship: the spiral cut. "Huh!"

Startled, the man raised his shortsword to block, but the weapons differed in weight to begin with. CLANG! CRUNCH!

Encrid hammered down, forcing the man's blade back through sheer strength.

"Gurk!"

The shortsword's opposite edge bit into its owner's chest. 'That's one.'

Having reduced their numbers with a single simple movement, Encrid raised his sword's point toward the moon and settled into his stance. "Take him together. Go one at a time and you'll die one after another."

The Beastman woman who appeared to be their leader spoke, tension plain in her voice. Anyone could see that he was exceptionally skilled. Encrid assessed his opponents. Then something suddenly occurred to him.

'I won't have to just hold out.' In the past, he would never have stepped forward like this. He would have first racked his brains for a way to survive. But now? The people before him radiated a formidable presence. But did that make this an unwinnable fight? That thought never entered his mind, and Encrid did not step back.