Chapter 300 - The Snow Fell Thick and Fast

'Well, he's putting up one hell of a fuss at the end.'

A body honed through spirit invocation and techniques perfected over many years of experience. The Ageless Madman was no easy opponent.

Only after part of his skull cracked did he grip his spears and charge. Streaming blood, he fought doggedly to close the distance until he was within arm's reach.

"You bastard! Did you think I, that I would go down so easily?!"

Rem was inwardly impressed. Yes, he should have fought like this from the start.

What followed was a bloody battle. Blood flew, quite literally.

A short spear punched through his warming hide and stabbed his thigh. Luckily, he twisted his foot to evade it. Otherwise, he might have ended up Rem the Cripple.

In exchange, his axe took two of his opponent's fingers. Only two fingers because the man had dodged well. He had meant to sever the wrist.

Disappointment was one thing, fighting another. Rem grew excited. Elation welled up inside him.

How long had it been since he had an opponent who could match him? Even when he unleashed the Heart of the Superhuman, the man answered with strength comparable to a Giant's. And spirit invocation let him sustain that monstrous strength.

"Without spells? How?!"

The Ageless Madman was surprised several times. The first surprise was the Heart of the Superhuman.

"Cheap tricks!"

He kept running his mouth. It must have meant he was that shocked.

Rem played along, more or less.

"Hey, you bastard, do you really get to say that?"

Cheap tricks?

His own technique was a fragment of an enhancement spell, but his opponent was mixing spells into all sorts of bizarre techniques and calling his cheap tricks? Cheeeap triiicks?

If it was meant as a taunt, it was a good one.

"You motherless bastard."

Rem grew angry.

"My mother died a hundred years ago!"

"Oh, so you are motherless."

The madman grew angry too.

They fought, bellowing at each other. Rem felt threatened time and again. His opponent was formidable enough, but he wasn't the only problem.

GRRR!

Rank-smelling demonic beasts attacked without pause. They circled, forever looking for an opening to bare their fangs.

Eventually, one clamped onto his arm. Seizing that opening, the Ageless Madman drove down the spears in both hands with all his might.

With the wolf still hanging from his arm, Rem swung his axe. He struck the spears sweeping through broad semicircles overhead and knocked them off course.

Despite the force of his blow, one spear raked hard across his side. The pain brought tears to his eyes and made every fine hair on his body stand on end.

It was where his ribs were broken.

The Ageless Madman had deliberately concentrated his strength into one of the two spears. Rem had fallen for it, but he didn't stop.

Keeping hold of his axe, he smashed the wolf's skull with his other fist, then dodged the incoming spearheads, deflecting and knocking them aside again and again.

Without a moment to catch his breath, he moved like a madman.

In the midst of it, something sticky seized his foot.

'Well, now?'

A binding spell. He was even pulling this shit?

They said old foxes were the wiliest, and the Ageless Madman was proving it. The oldest, craftiest prey was always the hardest to hunt.

Rem tensed his thighs. Binding spell or not, it could only cover a limited area.

BOOM!

He kicked off the ground, flew sideways, and swung his axe, killing three demonic beasts that had been after him.

More precisely, two died with their neck and chest cleaved open, while the third took the axe in its forehead.

Rem expected the brutal fighting to continue. Instead, he was disappointed—and at the same time gained the upper hand.

The Ageless Madman fled. He disengaged. Leaped backward.

The attack that followed lacked force. Rem had been blocking the spears even when the man wielded them directly, and now he was back to that same trick: javelins attached to threads.

'Oh, this bastard.'

The excitement boiling inside him went cold.

CLANG!

He knocked the spear aside with the flat of his axe and saw his elder countryman bounding away. The spear flew back after him.

The man shouted, "The next time we meet, you will die for certain."

'Oh, what a load of shit. Next time we meet, who's really going to die? Me? Or you?'

Scowling, Rem brought his axe straight down onto the skull of a charging demonic beast.

BOOM!

The axe entered at its head and split its body lengthwise.

"Fuck, I get it. Running whenever things went wrong must be how you've survived this long."

Should he chase him down and kill him? He could, but it was a bother. All the wind had gone out of his sails. He couldn't summon any enthusiasm.

For Rem, it was merely a matter of lost enthusiasm. For the Wolf Bishop, it was an entirely different story.

"Hey! Where are you going?!"

He was too stunned to hide his disbelief. His lupine face filled with dismay, obvious even to Teresa.

So shocked that he spoke with his mouth gaping wide, he reopened the head wound he had painstakingly pressed shut with his hand. Blood spilled out again. Dark red blood ran down his cheek and dripped from his chin onto the ground.

There was no answer. The Ageless Madman simply fled.

Not so much as an apology. Of course, even an apology would have sent the bishop's blood pressure soaring and blood spurting from his head.

"Brother Bishop, it's time to go."

Frowning at the way he was addressed, the bishop turned. A limping half-Giant stood there.

Half her shield had been smashed away, and her sword was cracked through the middle.

"You apostate bitch. I will curse you even in death."

The Wolf Bishop spat a curse. It was unfair.

This should have been a victory. However formidable their opponents, he, a bishop of the evil cult, had come alongside the Ageless Madman, renowned across the continent. He had even brought the dire wolf, his soul companion.

Yet what was this?

He should have beaten that bitch Teresa with ease. But no. Everything had gone wrong.

Instead of sighing or looking up at the heavens, the bishop muttered with the last of his rancor,

"You fucking bastards."

During the fighting, he had also felt the death of the dire wolf bound to his soul. There was no hope.

"I will curse you all for the rest of your lives. Your flesh will rot and fester, and you will not even die easily. The God of the Demonic Realm will never forgive you! Ageless Madman, you bastard! You will not be forgiven either!"

His final resentment was directed at his former ally. Watching the man flee instead of saving him and fighting made his stomach churn.

"Yes. Go soak in the river of hell. I'll see you there later."

"You will!"

Teresa finally smashed what remained of the bishop's skull. The blow from her broken sword's pommel finished him.

Readjusting her bloodstained mask, Teresa straightened and saw Rem limping toward her.

"You're back?"

"Of course I'm back. Where else would I go? Where's the Captain?"

There was no touching scene of them supporting each other. They trudged along.

Neither was in good shape, but neither was dying either. Support each other, his ass.

A wild horse came up beside them.

"You fought too?"

NEIGH!

Rem pursed his lips at Odd-Eyes's reply.

"Even a fucking horse fights, and that human bastard runs away."

He was still full of complaints. Just as the excitement was building, it had fizzled out. That was rare, especially against one of his own people—and when that opponent had the advantage, at that.

'We'll meet again, old man.'

Rem vowed it.

Others had watched the two of them fight: the heavy infantry and the cavalry.

The mercenary leading the cavalry realized his place all over again.

'Don't get on their bad side.'

Never complain about how hard training was. Pick a fight and he would die. No question. Seeing them fight the enemy made that clear.

He had better watch out for that big, quiet-looking woman too.

He had never underestimated them, but now he saw them differently.

In the past, people might have recoiled in horror after watching Rem and Teresa fight. That had happened often. Their strength was simply too overwhelming. There was something inhuman about it.

People were relieved to have them as allies, yet still felt a distance. They inspired something akin to fear even in their own side.

This time was different. Both were limping. The horse walking with them looked the healthiest of the three.

Without those two, everyone here might have been slaughtered.

Relief, joy, elation, the ecstasy of victory—emotions surged and mingled.

"The Lunatic Company."

"Rem. Rem the Axeman."

"Rem of the Mad Axe."

"He didn't die."

"He didn't."

"Rem the Undying?"

Someone's muttering hardened into a nickname. As it happened, Rem picked his ear.

What were they on about?

Soon the soldiers shouted in unison.

"Rem the Undying!"

They had thought him dead, but he had returned and driven off the enemy.

It was a considerable improvement over "Rem the Foul-Tempered Bastard."

"Rem the Undying! Rem Who Never Dies!"

"The lunatic who won't die!"

"Wooooo!"

Most of the demonic beasts were already dead. This was the part of the battlefield where their side held the greatest advantage.

The survivors scattered after the deaths of the dire wolf and the bishop. Without a unifying force, demonic beasts did not stay together.

Cheering and shouting, the soldiers moved toward the center of the battlefield.

"Damn, they're fucking loud."

Rem kept picking his ears.

"Teresa the Wanderer!"

The soldiers cried out the identity Teresa so often repeated. Holding her mask in place with one hand, she raised the other.

She wanted to. Her heart moved her to do it.

In the evil cult, she had been so taciturn that she sometimes went an entire week without a word. Not anymore.

"I am Teresa the Wanderer."

Here, things were different. They had changed. Now that she knew pleasure and joy, everything looked different.

"Teresa the Wanderer!"

Everyone echoed her murmured words with one voice. It was lovely to hear.

"What are you doing? Rem the Undying!"

Rem spoke, apparently feeling peevish for no reason. The soldiers echoed him too.

"Rem the Undying!"

It was childish nonsense. In any case, Encrid, Ragna, and Audin were waiting where the two were headed.

Ragna was relatively unscathed. Audin was not. Small wounds covered his body, and his left arm hung limp. Had he broken it?

"A sprain. I could hardly give my all to killing a single dog. You seem to have taken quite a beating, brother."

"Yeah, a few grazes. I was showing respect for my elders."

Teresa remained silent. Ragna stared at them for a moment, then spoke.

"They're all so weak. Taking people like this around only makes more work for you, Captain."

"... Fuck, why did I let him live?"

Rem grumbled, while Audin smiled and clenched a fist.

"It seems our brother longs for God's embrace."

Watching them, Encrid swept his hair back. It was all nonsense. Then he looked at Rem and spoke.

"Stop running off to play."

"Why? Were you getting beaten black and blue without me?"

"Aren't you the one who got beaten up?"

"I went easy on him because he was old."

"I see."

"What's this, anyway? Why is it over the moment I get back? I was just about to have some fun."

In that condition? Encrid's face said. His expression was blank, but that was what it conveyed.

Rem shouted, "Don't you know me? I'm just getting started! Don't you know who I am?"

As he spoke, he held an open palm out behind him. A few quick-witted officers hurried to answer.

"Rem the Undying!"

Those who heard them shouted it again.

"Rem the Undying!"

Good grief. He was having the time of his life.

Encrid chuckled and shook his head.

"Something's wrong in the enemy camp."

Graham's adjutant spoke from among them. Encrid answered without even looking.

"One of my soldiers' handiwork."

"That is?"

Who else could it be? Jaxon.

He could have killed Viscount Tarnin long before, but he had waited for the right moment. When would killing him have the greatest effect?

Jaxon was clever.

Would killing the enemy commander end the battle immediately? No. Others remained.

Among them were several accomplished mercenaries. They only looked unimpressive beside Encrid and the Lunatic Company. By ordinary standards, they were a fighting force no rank-and-file soldiers could match.

They thought to themselves,

'We have the legitimate claim.'

All they needed to do was retreat with Viscount Tarnin alive. Then they could retain that claim and remain a threat. Some even knew about Aspen.

They would withdraw for now and let Border Guard fight Aspen. They could launch another Territorial War later, facing Border Guard from a position of advantage after its strength had been depleted.

The clever ones reached their conclusion. They were about to go find the viscount first, but Viscount Tarnin's head was already mounted on a pole.

"... When did that fucking pig die?"

The clever mercenary was dumbfounded.

And unlucky.

Jaxon didn't even need to use a magical artifact to conceal his presence as he moved around. He simply disguised himself in enemy clothing and watched people.

He picked out those who looked capable of rallying the troops and presented them with red necklaces. He gave the same gift to the clever mercenary whose name he didn't know.

All it took was to place his oddly shaped dagger, blunt along the outer edge and sharp only on the inner, against a throat and pull.

Jaxon caught the startled mercenary's wrist, but his right hand swept in a semicircle across the man's throat.

The drawn blade left a red necklace, and the mercenary died with blood pouring out. Jaxon had already killed seven men this way.

That was enough. He withdrew.

Surely the Captain hadn't gone and died while he was away for a little while, he thought as he returned to the main army.

He spotted Encrid, and a ghost beside him.

"A ghost. We need an exorcism at once. A few daggers should do it."

"... Why does it sound like that alley-cat bastard is talking about me?"

The barbarian ghost spoke. Jaxon once again strongly advocated banishing the ghost, but to no avail.

Instead, all he got were words of blessing from the axe-wielding mad barbarian.

"You die. Why don't you go fucking die?"

He ignored him. His work was done, and the Captain was in one piece.

"I really thought we were going to die this time," Krais said.

Encrid regarded the big-eyed soldier calmly. After several days without proper sleep, Krais smiled.

"We're lucky. Truly. It's as though the goddess of luck gave us a kiss."

A goddess's kiss brought good fortune.

White snow fell thick and fast over Krais's head as he spoke. It had begun near the end of the battle. The sleet had turned into a heavy snowfall.

"You like this?"

Rem spoke sullenly. The devil's powdered shit was coming down in staggering quantities.

Jaxon and Audin looked much the same. Encrid did not. He understood at once.

"See? The Captain really is clever."

At Krais's words, Rem angrily declared, "Right, let's gouge those eyes out today," but it was only a minor commotion.

The snow poured down. Even armies in the thick of battle would have to reorganize their lines.

In other words:

"We've bought ourselves time."

Krais voiced what Encrid was thinking.

The heavy snowfall was a stroke of luck that would hold Aspen back. They had gained time to recover and put their battle lines in order.