Chapter 29 - I Want to Live Too

"You're going farther in? This is madness."

The fierce-looking soldier had drawn close behind Encrid to speak. After their first successful surprise attack, the scouts—formerly Andrew's squad, now Encrid's—had attempted two more. The second battle had been against five soldiers, the third against more than fifteen. Both had been grueling: one of the enemies in the second battle had been exceptionally skilled, while in the third, there had simply been so many of them. Seven soldiers remained alive. They had lost two more. 'I can't save any more of them.'

Some things were impossible, no matter what he did. Encrid knew he was no damned saint. Repeating today to save those three was nonsense, like talk of gnawing on Fairy bones. They had only managed this much thanks to his efforts. Of course, the other soldiers had fought tooth and nail too. One survivor had lost an eye, and Andrew had taken a cut to the face. A linen bandage covered his left cheek—a wound that would make a fine badge of honor, if he survived. Yet Encrid kept heading deeper in. It was like a reckless charge with no thought for retreat. By any ordinary measure, it was indeed madness. The fierce-looking soldier had considerable skill and experience. Even under these circumstances, he hadn't entirely lost his sense of direction. He had realized Encrid was heading into enemy territory.

Seeing that, Encrid inwardly nodded. 'Not bad.'

He fell far short of Rem or the other squad members, but he was still a capable man. If he put his mind to it, he could probably make Platoon Commander at the very least. "We'll have room to breathe from here on."

The fierce-looking soldier furrowed his brow at Encrid's words. "That isn't what I'm talking about." "As I said before, insubordination..." "Insubordination be damned. If we're marching to our deaths, I'll find a way to survive, even if it means putting a sword in an ally's back. Squad Leader or not." This bastard really did throw dangerous words around. How would he face Encrid if they made it back alive?

He didn't so much as twitch under Encrid's stare. Shameless. Understandable, though. Lives came before the mission, didn't they? Especially for someone serving for a particular purpose, as this man was. Andrew's life and his own would come first. Encrid looked up to check the sun's position, then stopped. The others naturally stopped as well, all listening to him and the fierce-looking soldier. Surrounded by men whose shoulders heaved as they caught their breath, Encrid spoke. "We'll die anyway if we turn back now. There's nothing behind us but enemy soldiers massed like a pack of rabid dogs." As he spoke, he loosened his hand guard. The leather-reinforced guard was certainly useful, but wearing it too long made the muscles in his hand feel compressed. Wearing it loose in battle, on the other hand, would plainly be dangerous. "How do you know that? They shouldn't even know we're here. How could they have cut off our retreat already?"

The fierce-looking soldier glanced at Encrid loosening the guard over the back of his hand, then spoke with a deep scowl. He clearly disliked Encrid's relaxed demeanor. Encrid had already lived through this moment dozens of times. He had repeated today dozens of times.

The enemy had numbers, and the moment they discovered the attack, they would invariably cut off the escape routes. Relentlessly, too. Whoever their commander was, they seemed very determined to keep their ambush here a secret. That never changed. The soldiers crouching in the tall grass looked uneasy. They had followed blindly, but listening to the two men now, they felt as though they stood in the middle of a perilous battlefield. Even so, no one readily spoke up. They merely strained their ears. Encrid glanced upward again, calculating the time. Darkness would fall in three or four hours. Then a way out would open.

First, though, he had to persuade these men. It would have been nice to overpower the man, but that wouldn't work on him. Nor was this a problem coercion could solve. Force and violence could take them no farther. Ambush, flight, ambush.

He had driven the squad relentlessly this far, leaving them no time to think. Now it was time to wait. And with waiting came questions like these. There was no need to labor over persuading them.

"Don't you realize it's already too late, now that we've come this far?" It was true. They had already spent too long. Turning back now would be even crazier. The fierce-looking soldier worked his lips. He looked as though he wanted to say, What kind of crazy bastard are you?

Instead, his eyes shifted as he thought, and he asked, "You do have something in mind, don't you?" Encrid met his gaze, then those of the other soldiers, one by one. All of them, including Henri and Andrew.

Their eyes held doubt and fear. Catching their breath had given them a little room—and room had given them time to think. They would know it was too late already. Encrid had no intention of offering a rational explanation. In truth, he couldn't give them a proper explanation anyway.

What could he say? That he had seen the future by repeating today? That they had to obey him without question to end this repeating day and move on to tomorrow?

As if they'd believe that. So there was only one thing he could say.

"I want to live too." Brief as it was, that one sentence said everything. He wasn't struggling this hard in order to die.

The desire to live. Were they the only ones who felt it? He made them all understand that he was no different. Of course, if Encrid died, he could simply repeat today again.

'I won't remain stuck here.' Whoever the ferryman on that river was, however high and solid the wall before him, he had no intention of stopping. To Encrid, this repeating day was a mountain to climb, something to conquer.

And so: "Trust me. This isn't a march to our deaths."

He would dispense with explanations and win everyone's trust. With that trust as his foundation, he would escape today and reach tomorrow, even if he had to twist the day out of shape. The desire to live, battle after battle, the anxiety that came once the excitement faded—in circumstances like these, anyone would grasp at a straw. To these men, Encrid's two brief statements inspired a trust too profound for words.

He wanted to live too, and so he asked them to trust him. They also knew instinctively that they had no other choice. What could they do right now? Enemy soldiers swarmed through the tall-grass fields, searching everywhere. No matter how they looked at it, there was no apparent way out.

At a time like this, trusting someone was the only option. "I... I really want to live," Henri murmured.

At those words, the others looked at Encrid and nodded. The fierce-looking soldier kept a cooler head than most, but he had no solution either. Andrew was the most deeply shaken of them all. Quite apart from his skill, Encrid seemed a man of fully formed character. Wasn't he just like the man Andrew dreamed of becoming? 'Steadfast even in a situation like this.'

He refused to give up and had earned everyone's trust. How splendid that was. "I trust you too, sir. I do."

And so Andrew spoke as well. Somewhere along the way, his speech had become respectful. It didn't even feel awkward. A fervent warmth seemed to rise among the soldiers and reach Encrid.

"Then, everyone."

With all eyes on him, he spoke.

"From now until I give the signal, lie low like moles and don't make a sound." Having earned their trust, it was time to use it. He led by example, lying flat on the ground and quieting his breathing. Everyone followed suit. They wondered what he was doing instead of fleeing at once, but what choice did they have? They had shared something fervent only moments ago. Now was the time to give him their trust, if only for five minutes. The fierce-looking soldier watched an insect hop over his nose and disappear, dumbfounded.

'This bastard is one hell of an operator.'

His way with people was extraordinary. Was this how he kept the troublemaker squad in line? It was only natural to wonder. RUSTLE. Just then came the sound of grass being trampled. Everyone began breathing cautiously. They could sense people nearby, though not very close. The tall-grass fields were thick with growth. Finding someone was difficult unless you came right up to them. It was a good place to hide. Loud trampling sounds rose around them, passing from ahead to behind. The men lying still couldn't see what was happening, but any bird flying over the grass would have witnessed an astonishing sight. All around the spot where Encrid's party lay, the grass swayed and shook. Every moving figure was an enemy soldier. Yet their movements skirted the very place where his squad lay motionless in the center. The spot where Encrid had stopped was like a deserted island, the only safe haven amid the enemy soldiers. Even with luck on his side, he couldn't have found such a gap between their movements. This would take more than a kiss from the goddess of luck: she would have had to pour every blessing she possessed upon him. Of course, it wasn't luck at all. It was a trick he had learned through an insane number of repetitions of today. The trampling receded. When the enemy's positions could no longer be distinguished by sound, Encrid spoke again.

"We're moving again. Everyone forward, single file." It was time to move. He straightened from his crouch and walked slowly until feeling returned to his legs. As he walked, he reflected on how useful Jaxon's sensory training was: gauging distance and direction by sound.

It wasn't a skill ordinary training could teach, but Encrid had learned by offering his throat to an assassin. Repeating today in the grass had taught him to distinguish the sounds. 'That's the second objective cleared too.'

After repeated ambushes and escapes, let the enemy pass them here. That was the second key element of the way out he envisioned. Now only the third and final element remained. That one needed time on his side. Once the numbness left his legs, he picked up the pace a little. Everyone kept up without complaint. Inwardly, they were all astonished. The area seemed full of enemies—how was he avoiding them so well? Thinking back, their battles so far had been peculiar too. They had attacked as though he knew where the enemy was. Every fight had begun with their own surprise attack, allowing them to fight at an advantage. And in every battle, Encrid had been at the front, fighting with extraordinary ferocity. He had looked like a man heedless of his own life. Every squad member following him knew he had risked his life in those fights. They knew he had taken the danger upon himself at the very front. In the quiet grass, a strange warmth rose once more. It was the heat of flames kindled in the surviving soldiers' hearts.

Encrid didn't feel that warmth. He was thinking only of what came next. 'Up to this point...'

It had been easy. Frankly, it hadn't been difficult at all. It couldn't afford to be. He had already lived through the version of "today" that brought him this far more than fifty times. This was only the natural result. Then why had he needed to experience this "today" more than fifty times?

It had all been because of the next part of the plan. They were few; the enemy was many. The enemy's intentions were unknown. Only one thing was certain: their commander intended to let no one who approached this place leave alive. The first few times, Encrid had gritted his teeth and tried to break through to secure an escape route. Naturally, he had failed every time. Would help from the squad change that result?

Not a chance. After that, he had changed his thinking.

'What if something happened that gave them a bigger headache than catching us?' The sun sank. Sunset spread before his eyes, and twilight's orange light settled over the land. As it lit the tall-grass fields, he felt as though he had stepped into an orange, glowing lake. For this moment, the place deserved to be called Orange Pearl rather than Green Pearl. The sky was particularly clear today, and the sunset cast by the sinking sun was wonderfully warm. Soon the sun vanished beyond the western horizon.

Then darkness came.

It was time to accomplish the third objective of Encrid's chosen path to survival.