Chapter 25 - Tall-Grass Fields

"We push straight through the grass and follow the scouts' trail. What do you think?" Watching him again, Encrid noticed the scout Squad Leader's eyes sparkling as he spoke. Anticipation and confidence mingled with just the right amount of tension. It was a new today. To cut to the chase, his escape had failed. After opening his eyes, Encrid greeted this new today by turning the day over in his mind.

'Where did it go wrong?'

Perhaps heading east had been the mistake.

'No, I think I was all right up to that point.' Review was a habit of Encrid's. Fleeing east, he had run into another crossbow unit and fallen with a cluster of bolts lodged in his body. As he writhed on the ground, a bolt had struck his head and killed him. He did not even want to recall that pain. But unless he went over it, he would have to keep dying. He hated that prospect even more. Review: retrace everything until he found the problem. Encrid went through it again. 'My hearing gave me the first opening.'

He had caught a sound that did not belong. Jaxon's teaching had helped. Then the heart of the beast had let him assess the situation coolly. He had needed to pick a side and break through. Though he had failed. 'If I tried again...'

He thought he could do it. His pursuers had not caught him; he had simply been unlucky enough to encounter a unit lying in wait.

'I think I just need a different route.' While he was lost in thought, someone tapped his shoulder. Henri. Encrid realized he had been far too distracted. "We only have to take a quick look around and leave. Bear with it."

Why did he keep telling him to bear with it?

"You look upset." As he spoke, Henri subtly indicated the way ahead with his eyes. Encrid looked forward and met the gaze of the fierce-looking soldier who dogged the Squad Leader's heels. He looked as though he were glaring, but he probably was not trying to pick a fight. 'He asked me to be understanding of the Squad Leader. He's got some sense.'

He was probably thinking he should find an opportunity to talk Encrid around. Apparently deciding this was not the right moment to speak, the fierce-looking soldier looked away first. Encrid nodded to Henri in acknowledgment and walked on, pushing the grass aside with his hands as he entered. Soon a familiar sight blocked his view. Tall green grass severely restricted his vision. Encountering an ambush in here was certainly bad. Under ordinary circumstances, no one should deliberately venture inside and risk their life.

'What if we never went in at all?' That would not work. Scouting the tall-grass fields was the reason this unit had come here, its very purpose. What would he say if they ignored that and went back? That he had detected an enemy ambush before even entering? Even if he somehow redirected the patrol, as if all ten people here would agree to back up that story. There was no avoiding it. A newly repeated 'today' was usually like this. But if asked whether that troubled him...

'It's not bad.' He had only fought in earnest once, but Henri had looked at him and asked how he could possibly be a lowest-grade soldier. The Squad Leader had disparaged himself.

'Real combat.'

It had been only one battle, but that single experience was valuable. The heart of the beast had left him no time to panic. He had found fleeting openings to swing and stab, moving in anticipation of his opponents' actions. Throughout it all, he had put his lessons to use. His heart gave a thump, then raced. Something thrilling seemed to shoot through his body.

'This is a good opportunity.' Before he had left on the scouting mission, Rem and Ragna had taken turns working on his swordsmanship. This was the perfect chance to fully absorb everything they had taught him, and everything he had realized on his own. "See here? Where the grass is flattened?"

"Animal tracks." Encrid knew how to put his lessons to use. He made a show of his knowledge. Henri looked at him, his eyes darting about, then asked,

"You've hunted before?" He had not. Henri had taught him.

"Just something I heard along the way."

From Henri. After that honest answer, he continued the idle conversation, quickening his pace a little to draw up at the front, right behind the Squad Leader. Encrid was examining the scouts' formation, something he had not paid much attention to before. The Squad Leader was at the front, with two men to the right and two to the left. The fierce-looking soldier held the position directly behind him. The rest followed like a rear guard. 'So he isn't a complete idiot.'

It was a decent formation, well suited to responding if an enemy appeared. Though no formation would be much use against a unit armed with crossbows. In the today that had ended in death, the scout Squad Leader had stopped acting the fool and quietly followed Encrid's lead. His swordsmanship had been quite good, too. The fierce-looking soldier had been very capable. 'At least intermediate-grade.'

By Naurilia's military standards, that was. Both the Squad Leader and the fierce-looking soldier were reasonably skilled. Henri was not bad either. Walking with a shortbow in his left hand, he knew how to shoot in rapid succession. Not that he was skilled enough to dodge dozens of bolts and survive.

'Avoid the crossbow units at all costs.' Encrid deliberately walked close behind the Squad Leader. The fierce-looking soldier did not speak to him, perhaps wary of the leader's reaction. RUSTLE. HISS! CRUNCH. Then he heard the same sounds again.

"Get down." First, he grabbed the Squad Leader by the nape and threw him backward. Only four had escaped alive the first time. This time, he would save a few more. "Urgh!"

The Squad Leader let out something like a scream as he fell backward.

"Enemy!"

An enemy soldier shouted. Bolts came flying a moment later. In the meantime, Encrid kicked the backs of two allied soldiers' knees, one after the other. Bolts whizzed over their heads as they fell. He, too, spread his feet forward and back and dropped low. A grasshopper sprang away in front of his eyes, apparently startled. From the split, Encrid sprang up on the strength of his thighs and spinal erectors, hurling a throwing knife. It whistled through the air. The knife struck nothing, but it made the enemy flinch for a moment. A brief opening. That was enough. THWACK. He thrust his elbow backward, giving the Squad Leader a light blow to the forehead.

"Get a grip."

With that, he shot forward. THUD-THUD-THUD. Trampling earth and grass, he drew his sword, settling into his stance as it came free, and delivered a one-handed stab.

'With everything I've got.' He had to commit to piercing his target, yet not let his muscles go slack afterward. How was he supposed to stab with all his strength and still hold some in reserve?

["You need a feel for it. How do you get that? Keep doing it. It'll come."]

Rem had told him that during sparring. Here and now, Encrid was making the lesson his own. THUNK! The sword's tip pierced his opponent around the chest. He twisted it and pulled it free. The blade emerged after splitting muscle, nerves, and heart. He feinted a horizontal slash, then closed the distance and snapped a kick into another enemy soldier's shin. The man had just raised his crossbow to aim. "Gah!"

The soldier involuntarily bowed his head, and Encrid slammed his pommel into the back of it. CRUNCH! It was like striking that flimsy leather helmet with a blunt weapon. Through his fingertips, he felt something like solid green wood splitting. With the second man down, he saw another charging at him, wearing cloth armor twice the usual thickness and carrying a large round shield. TWANG! TWANG! TWANG! Henri loosed three arrows in rapid succession, but they failed to penetrate the armor. No blood seeped from where they lodged. One shallowly embedded arrow bobbed up and down before falling to the ground. He had fired too hastily to make proper use of the bow's draw strength. Encrid quickly switched his sword to his left hand and swung. CLANG! Sparks flew as the blade met the shield's rim. He dented the frame, but his hand went numb as well. "Raaagh!"

Roaring, the enemy brought his shield down over Encrid's head. His heart thumped. A place where a moment's carelessness meant death. Panic, and you died. That was the battlefield. These were the moments when the heart of the beast shone. The boldness to remain calm even in the midst of battle. With his thick-muscled heart doing its job, Encrid could see the shield's downward arc clearly. ["Watch closely. Dodge well."]

Rem's teaching. Watch and dodge. ["No part of a sword is useless. Use all of it, from the hilt to the tip."]

That lesson was Ragna's. Encrid watched closely, then stepped back at the last possible moment. The shield whooshed past his nose, its wake tossing his hair. "Huff, huff!"

The man who had slammed the shield down strained his muscles to raise it again. Ragged breaths sounded from behind it. His breathing and the movements of his shoulders showed how tense he was. His eyes darted just above the shield, watching Encrid. Striking the shield would only prolong the fight. Encrid tossed his sword and caught it by the blade, hilt uppermost. With that reversed grip, he pivoted through his waist and knees and swung with all his strength. The movement was complete before his shield-bearing opponent could do anything. WHOOSH. THUNK! The pointed end of the crossguard beneath the blade buried itself in his opponent's eye. Blood burst from it, with clear fluid streaming out alongside. "Aaaaagh!"

The newly one-eyed soldier screamed. With the hand he had cut gripping the blade, Encrid drew his shortsword. He drove it into the throat of the man thrashing over his ruined eye, then pulled it free. SPURT! Blood gushed with the movement. Bloody froth gurgled in the shield-bearer's throat as he pitched to the ground.

"This way!" The sequence of brutal sights had left everyone staring at Encrid, mouths agape. How many men had he brought down in that brief span? Encrid retrieved the sword he had driven into the man's eye. Even its hilt was slick with blood. He wiped it off roughly as he moved. This time, six followed him. He had saved two more. "... What are you?"

The scout Squad Leader asked as he ran close beside him.

"Do you really have to ask?"

They would be better off running than wasting time on this. Encrid ran east again. As he went, he knocked down and killed every enemy he encountered. This time, they had made it farther than before, but...

'I picked the wrong direction.'

He was certain east was not the way. This time, he encountered fifty spearmen. Fifty trained spearmen were a platoon's worth. A mere three men could not take them on. He had lost the others along the way; only the scout Squad Leader and the fierce-looking soldier remained. "Bad luck."

The fierce-looking soldier spoke.

"Damn it."

The scout Squad Leader looked around, on the verge of tears. Encrid said,

"I'm taking five with me."

Steeling himself, he charged. To the other side, he must have looked utterly insane. Charging at fifty spearmen? In their eyes, he was a complete madman. Had he been a knight or belonged to a knight order, it might have been different. But what was he doing? His swordplay showed he knew how to fight, but it was nothing extraordinary. At best, he might be called a seasoned soldier. Charging with no regard for his own life could hardly look sane. Encrid killed three spearmen in that charge. Then a spear pierced his belly, and he died. Of course, it hurt horribly. His final memory was of a long banner lying behind the spearmen.

* * *

"Let's go this way. Killing the enemy beyond the grass would earn us merit, wouldn't it? Or would taking them alive be better?" Listening to the Squad Leader, Encrid once again turned the day over in his mind. Review.

'I can't see a way out to the east.'

North, then, this time. Real combat was excellent nourishment for growth. Even Rem and Ragna, who got along so terribly, agreed on that. Hadn't even Jaxon said the same? That fighting for your life was the best way to hone all five senses. That at the moment of death, human concentration shattered its limits. Encrid was proving those words firsthand. 'I've improved.'

That was neither arrogance nor conceit. Even viewed objectively, his skills had improved considerably. And they were still improving. Through the repeated todays, Encrid died nine more times to the north, six more times to the east, and twelve more times to the west. The battles continued. His skills would not improve in a single leap. That could not be helped. But he could move steadily forward, one step at a time. Once again, Encrid felt elation. He was still growing. He had a today better than yesterday. "Aaaaah!" THUNK! During one of those repeated days, a particularly valiant soldier's spearhead grazed his cheek. The old Encrid could never have evaded that strike. It bore a striking resemblance to the stabbing soldier's attack, but he dodged it. And he did more than dodge. Countless real battles had instilled a good habit in him. As he evaded, he brought his sword down from above. A vertical slash. THRUM. At that moment, Encrid felt something strange. He had brought his sword down, yet felt nothing in his hand. No, the sensation was simply too faint. He had clearly cut through his opponent's arm, but it had felt like slicing through a rotten branch. It had been that easy. Meanwhile, the enemy's cleanly severed arm flew through the air. He had not even heard a sound. An utterly clean strike. The kind people described as a sword stroke you did not feel in your hand. The kind those called geniuses performed time and again. "Ah."

Encrid was so surprised that his concentration broke for a moment. He had never experienced this in battle before. He could fully feel the weight of the sword in his hand. The tingling sensation that lingered there filled him with bliss.

"Ha, honestly."

This was so exciting. Drenched in blood, he laughed. Satisfaction welled up so completely that he could not contain it.

"You crazy bastard!"

Though from the enemy's perspective, a crazy bastard was all he was. In any case, Encrid died countless more times. And countless more times, he repeated today. Through those repeated todays, the lessons he had learned in sparring sank into his body.