Chapter 288 - Let's Run Away

The instant Jaxon caught Encrid, his Sixth Sense flared with foreboding.

'Crazy bastards.'

The moment that motherless bandit bastard Lycanos retreated, others rushed in to fill the gap. Their movements were trained, their attack coordinated in advance for just such a situation.

The sound of blades slicing through air reached his ears first.

WHOOSH-WHOOSH-WHOOSH!

Men in black thrust skewer-like swords at them. Who knew how long they had been waiting? Every one charged headlong without a thought for his own life, and every one was fast. Their stabs existed solely to pierce a single point. Heavy, swift blows—attacks that burned away their lives for one strike.

Jaxon pulled Encrid toward him with his left hand and swung the sword in his right. At the same time, he made a colder assessment than ever.

'I can't block them all.'

His sword danced, evoking the light flutter of a butterfly's wings. With its tip raised, the butterfly flew between the long blades pouring toward him. Its wings struck those blades in erratic movements, rebounding again and again to turn most of them off course.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

He could not deflect them all. Two strikes slipped through. One grazed Encrid's left shin—or, more precisely, Encrid twisted at the waist to evade it. Torn cloth and leather fluttered from his shin guard.

The last struck him at the waist, but with only a thud, the blade bounced away without piercing his body.

'The armor.'

It was the armor he had acquired earlier. Jaxon had seen the Captain winding it around himself like bandages.

Jaxon put more strength into his left arm. He intended to throw Encrid behind him and carve up the remaining attackers. Yet no sooner had he thrown Encrid back than they scattered.

'Damn.'

Fighting to protect someone was not Jaxon's specialty. He could fight with enemies at his back, but he had precious little experience fighting to protect an ally. It was fair to call it exceedingly rare. That was why.

'A mistake.'

He should have accepted a little damage and kept Encrid directly behind him, or pulled him far beyond the enemy's reach. He had missed his chance.

The men in black leaped overhead, drove in low, and charged from both sides. Their swordplay was sickeningly single-minded.

As he diverted some attention behind him, he heard Encrid say, "I'm all right."

His right arm was injured and he was exhausted, but he was not dying yet. The problem was...

'These crazy fucking bastards.'

The black-clad assault troops charged without regard for their own bodies. Wearing thin, supple leather clothing instead of armor, they were not opponents he could casually dismiss. Wherever they had learned it, that single stab aimed at one point was superb.

Jaxon kept moving his feet, never ceasing to swing his sword.

SLICE. THUNK. THUD.

His blade sliced halfway through forearms and punched holes in thighs. His sword faithfully performed its duty as unfeeling steel, but as long as they were not dead, the men twisted around and attacked again. They were like a band of lunatics stripped of all personality, existing only to pierce their opponents through sheer sword speed.

He dodged with a step, and a sword shot into the space he had occupied. His senses had foreseen it a moment early, allowing him to evade. The blade stabbed into the cold earth.

THUNK!

The man lifted his head, sword planted in the ground, his eyes looking possessed. Of course, none of that meant anything to Jaxon. He simply planted a knife in the forehead of the man whose strike had failed. The ordinary knife whizzed through the air, becoming a reaper to claim a life.

Fighting in full view was not his specialty, Jaxon thought. Even so, he steadily whittled them down, one by one.

Encrid glanced at Jaxon's fight, then took in the men charging him.

'This isn't good.'

Lycanos had injured his right arm. The recent blow had grazed his shin, but calling that wound a graze would not begin to cover it. The blade had sliced cleanly through his leather guard and left a distinct mark in his skin and some of the muscle beneath.

His armor had stopped the blow aimed at his torso, but not its impact. His insides shook. It was only this mild because he had braced with his abdominal muscles. An ordinary person's organs would have ruptured.

On top of that, Lycanos's final strike had left his right arm half-crippled. With only his left arm able to move, Encrid did what he could.

He sheathed the gladius and took his usual sword in his left hand, swinging it. He minimized his leg movements and held the sword lightly. The Flowing Sword Technique.

He parried, then parried again. His breathing was fine. In stamina alone, he was a monster who would not fall short of anyone.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

He made a split-second decision and deflected three or four blades. Immediately afterward, the next was already before his nose—a blade honed and honed until it gleamed coldly.

'I can't block this.'

The heart of the beast kept his eyes open, and Concentrate on a Single Point set his brain ablaze. Even with the best move he could manage now, he thought he would lose an eye.

The enemy's ploy had been better. They had used Lycanos to tie down a key fighter, then deployed their waiting swordsmen the moment he failed to kill him. This was the result.

He could clearly see the future in which he lost an eye. In that sliver of divided time, he could not dodge, but he could ask himself a question and answer it. Lose an eye? And was that a problem? Nothing would change, even with one eye gone.

Encrid turned his head. He tried to twist away and evade. Dying here and starting over was not even an option in his mind. Had he been the sort to throw away his life, give up, and begin anew over something this small, he would have stalled and fallen behind in his repeating today long ago.

The sword tip swelled in his vision, its point seeming like a thick club.

THWACK!

With a crisp sound, the club blocking his vision disappeared. The man wielding the sword aimed at him went flying. Naturally, his sword took to the sky with him.

"Aaaaaagh!"

He flew with a scream. Flew quite well, too. For that moment, at least, he had nothing to envy in a bird. His flight was finite, of course, and its ending was anything but auspicious.

He plummeted among Border Guard's standing army. Startled by the body that had suddenly come flying at him, a soldier raised his spear, impaling the man in midair and killing him.

Encrid had been falling backward as he tried to block, hold out, and not fucking die. He landed on his backside. Looking to the side, he saw a wild horse that had just launched a human skyward with its hind legs.

NEIGH!

"Odd-Eyes?"

NE-E-EIGH!

It seemed to be shouting that it hated the name, but at a moment like this, Encrid could not even remember the name he had forced himself to come up with.

GRRRR.

Esther, too, was suddenly beside him. Perhaps unable to turn human, she was in her Lake Panther form. The silky black fur covering her body reminded him of her hair as a human.

And the man who had suddenly darted in beside the black-clad stabbing unit was someone who could survive somehow, even if he lost his way, so long as he had a sword.

WHOOSH, THUD. WHOOSH, SLICE. WHOOSH, THWACK. WHOOSH, CRACK.

Encrid's eyes darted ceaselessly, trying to follow the succession of strikes unfolding before him. Ragna swept in from the flank and cut down the five men ahead of him, swinging his sword five times in a single step.

'What kind of trick is that?'

One step, but five strikes. How was that possible? It was swordplay beyond his reckoning. Speed that outstripped the enemy's speed—a sword that struck first. Ragna's sword was demonstrating it now.

"Go on ahead. I'll kill them all before I leave."

His tone was blunt, his fallen fringe obscuring his eyes. Through the blond hair, his dry red eyes gazed silently ahead. He deflected arrows coming overhead and killed the men approaching him. His sword began moving so fast that even to Encrid, its motion looked discontinuous.

As arrows fell toward Encrid's head, several shield-bearing soldiers approached from behind.

"Damn, he can cut."

That was Dunbachel, watching from beside him. She spoke while smashing the skull of an assassin lunging from behind with two daggers. The instant she detected his movement, she planted her right foot and drove her left knee into his head. Encrid, of course, had also reacted and raised his sword. In any case, her gaze, too, was on Ragna.

Arrows rained overhead, but Odd-Eyes had raced over as though flying and saved him. Seeing Esther and Dunbachel, and the allies behind them surrounding him with large round shields, Encrid felt he was unlikely to die. His gaze naturally turned forward.

'Lycanos.'

Ragna's sword was fast now, but Lycanos's sword had been faster in that final instant. And the swords of the men who had just charged him were similar to it.

After Ragna cut several down, the men who had charged with such determination withdrew. Ragna had also taken a cut to his thigh in the meantime. His armor was sliced and blood stained his clothes, but he returned as though nothing had happened.

"Don't spare the arrows!"

"Fucking die!"

"The infantry is the flower of the battlefield!"

"Pleasure awaits at the end of pain!"

All around, men fought amid curses and battle cries. Some died with arrows buried in their heads. Others took throwing axes and pitched forward mid-charge.

"Yolololololo!"

An enemy mercenary in peculiar fur-covered leather armor beat his chest and let out a strange battle cry. Bell appeared and hurled a javelin into him, knocking him down.

"Fight if you don't want to die!" Bell shouted.

Encrid was carried to the rear. Three soldiers stepped up to support him. The wound on his left shin was serious enough that he had given up on walking.

"Fuck, he's strong."

Graham was looking across the distant battlefield as he spoke. Lycanos stood there. Encrid saw him too. He had not merely taken that final attack—he had landed a cut on the man's face. Blood ran down to cover half of it, yet Lycanos remained composed.

Without smiling, Lycanos watched Encrid and his companions in silence, then turned away. As he withdrew, those same black-clad, fast-sword-wielding assault troops gathered around him.

"There are a lot of them," Graham murmured.

"There certainly are." Krais agreed from behind him, his face ashen.

A unit that staked their lives on killing an opponent with a single stab. Even at a glance, there seemed to be more than fifty left. Considering how many had already died, and the need to fend off attacks from assassins hidden among them...

'This will be a headache.'

That was Encrid's assessment, and Krais shared it.

The battle was short. The so-called Wolf Bishop did not step forward, so neither did Audin. Ragna did not push any farther in, either. Jaxon had also returned before they knew it. Neither army's commander seemed intent on ending the fight in a single day.

Before they could even get the situation under control, a white-faced Graham approached Encrid, who had been roughly bandaged to stop the bleeding. Seeing him, Krais spoke.

"We knew from the start that one battle wouldn't do it. We just need to finish within three. All we have to do is break their main fighting strength. Above all, battles are decided by the martial prowess of a handful of elites."

His voice sounded oddly drained. It could hardly be otherwise. Krais had believed in Encrid's fighting prowess. He had judged that even if Encrid could not knock the opponent's head off in a single blow, he would win in the end. But that was not what had happened. The first battle had been no different from a defeat.

Moving their position back inside the walls was the worst possible move. They had to finish it here, and in as little time as possible. Three battles within that limited time.

'If we just hold out, we lose.'

Behind Border Guard, Aspen had yet even to draw its sword.

'Damn it.'

Outwardly, Krais pretended to be calm while inwardly devising a way to flee. Now he really did need to investigate an escape route.

'Would the Tunnel work?'

He had made various preparations just in case, but...

"The Cultists seemed content to watch. Only a few wolf demonic beasts attacked, didn't they?"

Graham had surveyed the entire battle and held off on deploying the heavy infantry. If the enemy conserved its strength, they had to conserve theirs as well. Committing their forces rashly and being pushed back would mean total annihilation. If the fight between their elite few was evenly matched, the rest would fall to the main army's infantry. And the heavy infantry's part in that would be far from small.

"Yes. I don't know whether they'll be content to watch tomorrow, though."

Krais spoke and looked at Encrid. As always, the Captain was calm, his expression untroubled.

'Ah, this is killing me. Really.'

He could not run away and leave him behind. Krais was a merchant, had once been a thief, and had spent time as a pickpocket, but through all of it, he had never turned his back on someone who had saved his life. That was a matter of character before profession. Especially when he could save him with just a little extra effort. He would not even have to risk his own life.

"Next time, I'll simply cut him down."

"He was fast."

He heard Ragna speak and Encrid answer in his usual manner.

"If that's all he has, I just have to cut him down. That's the end of it."

Ragna's firm words sent Encrid into thought for a moment. That had been quite fast.

His right arm was unusable for now, and his left shin troubled him. Though his armor had stopped the blow, his belly was bruised too. His organs were unharmed, but it throbbed.

The Isolation Technique was an art of accumulating repeated days. He had endured thanks to strength maintained, trained, and sustained. Thus, a blow to the torso was something a good meal and a full day's sleep would heal. His right arm, however, was another matter.

"For now, rest and get through tonight. Stay alert for night raids, and keep the scouts moving without pause!" Graham shouted.

The heavy infantry would personally stand guard today. The battle had been short, but casualties were higher than ever. The death toll had surpassed two digits.

Encrid remained deep in thought. After watching him for a while, Krais stepped in front of him. With a torch stand behind him, his shadow swayed over Encrid's head.

They were inside a newly erected tent. The wild horse stood outside, while Ragna, Audin, Dunbachel, Teresa, and Esther were within.

WHOOO.

A cold wind blew through the half-open tent entrance, making the torch flicker. Krais's swaying shadow split into two, then merged into one again.

"What is it?"

Encrid was leaning back at an angle. Krais had just changed the bandages covering his body. Swallowing, Krais spoke.

"Let's run away."