Chapter 91 - Special Platoon

Human-faced hounds. Creatures that fell somewhere between monsters and demonic beasts. Quadrupedal monsters with faces like old men. Or canine demonic beasts with faces resembling a human's. Really, what did it matter? Monsters and demonic beasts preyed on humans. They were simply things to kill. No one knew where monsters and demonic beasts came from, but their threat had existed since Encrid was born. No, since this world had existed. They came in all varieties: Ghouls, harpies, skeletons, and more. The distinction was simple. Demonic beasts resembled animals, while monsters had their own distinct characteristics. Human-faced hounds fell somewhere between the two, creatures that lost every shred of fear when they gathered in packs. "Advance." Even at a glance, the pack numbered over fifty. The human-faced hounds stood scattered about, growling. The heavy infantry commander gave the order the moment he spotted them. Heavy infantry cost more to equip and train than any other branch. Their heavy equipment restricted their mobility and, for the same reason, ruled out throwing javelins or serving as archers. The weight of their armor limited dynamic movement, preventing any swift, nimble charges. But full-body armor, rectangular shields, and long spears protruding between them were enough to make heavy infantry overwhelmingly effective in pitched battles on open plains. This battle was no exception. The heavy infantry crossed the wasteland slowly, barely stirring the yellow dust. They simply advanced, one steady, unceasing step at a time. Yet there was nothing the human-faced hounds could do. Their principal weapons were their claws, and those were utterly useless. 'An overwhelming victory.'

Even harpies roaming the skies couldn't hurt heavy infantry. A mere pack of human-faced hounds stood no chance. THUNK! Their swiping claws met nothing but shields. Even when one occasionally managed to slip its claws through a gap... CLANG. All it did was scratch the metal plates of the armor. And fewer than one in ten even managed that. Most were simply blocked by the heavy infantry's advancing shields. "Kaaah!"

A human-faced hound let out a grating scream. As it struck a rectangular shield with its forepaw, a long spear shot out between the shields and pierced its flank, running it through. With the hound dangling from the spearhead, the soldier in the front rank pushed its body away with his shield and pulled his weapon free. The monster rolled across the ground with a hole in its side. Its yelps soon became a death cry as the heavy infantry marched over it, crushing it to death. THUD, THUD. Given their weight, merely stepping on it would serve admirably as a finishing blow. Block with shields. Thrust with spears. A simple but efficient strategy. Their opponents weren't even human, but monsters. They had no answer to it. While the heavy infantry dealt with the pack, the special-duty troops—the Border Guard—rained down ranged attacks from the hill on the left. They were a force of longbowmen and crossbowmen: five of the former, fifteen of the latter. They sealed off one side with a hail of arrows and bolts, driving the hounds in the other direction. Heavy infantry blocked that escape route. Encrid and Rem didn't merely stand and watch, either. More hounds kept streaming in from somewhere behind the pack of fifty. "Looks like those are ours!"

Rem sounded more excited than ever. Rather than answer, Encrid set off. In fact, he charged out ahead of Rem. The excitement in his chest had yet to fade. This was a time to swing his sword again and again, to prove what his body had learned. He was coming to realize how precious that time was. He was fighting with his life at stake, yet didn't feel he would die. When had he ever experienced that before? It left him feeling strange. He couldn't imagine dying amid a mere dozen or so human-faced hounds. There seemed little danger of death. Why was he so certain? Because Rem was with him? That didn't seem to be it. Thinking could wait. He ran, with speed and agility the heavy infantry could never show. With boldness and concentration, he lowered his waist midstride and swung his sword parallel to the ground. SHICK! THWACK! The first hound to meet him lost its muzzle. His sword continued through it and caught another hound in the head. The second one's eye and forehead split and burst open. Two dispatched with a single drawing slash. Encrid planted his left foot to brake and shifted his footing. Pivoting on that foot, he drew his right foot behind it and turned sideways in an instant. As he turned, he raised his sword vertically and brought it down. A textbook vertical cut from the Heavy Sword Technique. CRACK! The hound caught beneath it had its head split open. His heart pounded madly as he cut and swung. Looking forward again, he punched an approaching hound in the head, then drove his sword point straight down into the skull of another trying to bite his shin. The sensation of breaking its skull lingered distinctly in his hand. The others tried to deny him time to pull his sword free, but an axe flashed through an arc beside him. Rem. A vigorous charge, followed by equally vigorous slashes. Anything caught by his axes had its body or head mercilessly severed. Encrid turned his eyes toward the charging monsters. Once, the sight would have frightened him before anything else. Not now. With a heart beating with courage, he could fight calmly. His mind was colder than ever. Even as he busied himself envisioning the best paths for cutting down the oncoming monsters, he calculated where moving would give him an advantage. His mind was cold, but his heart was hotter than ever. Exhilaration. That burning sensation heightened his body and senses.

'It's working.' What he had learned fighting the sewer mage was taking root in his body. All the things he had struggled to learn with his squad members were accumulating, one by one, through actual combat. Watching him from beside him, Rem was reminded of building a fortress wall. Once, posing as a laborer, he had been put to work on one. Somehow hauling those heavy stones over and stacking them one by one. A tedious, arduous process with no end in sight. A process that ultimately demanded patience. 'It really is remarkable.'

Watching Encrid's growth, that was all he could think. In truth, watching more closely than anyone else meant witnessing one incomprehensible thing after another. A man who hadn't even been able to lay one stone a day suddenly laid dozens. How was that possible? Rem didn't know. Nor did he want to. It only made things more interesting.

'This is fun. It really is.' "Gwehk!"

A bolt lodged in the last hound's head. Torres had approached after his force finished driving the monsters to one side and killing them. He smacked his lips regretfully.

"What a waste. You should have joined our unit. Why are you still stuck being a Squad Leader?" The First Company Platoon Commander had been wondering the same thing. With that much skill, why? Encrid subtly stepped into the line of sight of several soldiers who had history with Rem and were glaring at him. Rem had come here after beating up a superior in First Company. He had always been on bad terms with them, particularly since he tended to provoke them further. Only after heading off trouble did Encrid speak.

"There's no one who can take responsibility for my squad yet." He was pointing out a practical problem. If he became a Platoon Commander, who would take over Squad 444? "Anyway, good work." The exhilaration that had filled him was now gently subsiding. Encrid had answered the question, but he hadn't taken either it or his answer very seriously. Only one thought occupied his mind.

'I need to put things in order.' The fighting had made it clear. He needed to take stock of his abilities and organize them properly. He had combined several techniques to amplify their effects and applied them to his swordsmanship. Until now, he had used whatever worked in the situation, which only made him feel the need to establish a coherent system. And because this, too, was a first for him, he felt a fresh surge of delight. Identifying what he needed on his own was itself a rare experience. Before, there had always been pitch darkness ahead, with no path in sight. But now? Signposts kept appearing on that once-invisible path. He was so happy he could hardly bear it. That was why Encrid smiled without realizing it. Even Rem couldn't guess what was going through his mind. Naturally, neither could Torres or the heavy infantry Platoon Commander. The fighting was over. Was he drunk on the joy of victory? It hadn't been that sort of battle. It was an extermination mission where victory and killing were only to be expected. Yet one soldier who had rampaged about covered in blood was suddenly smiling as though nothing could make him happier. The heavy infantry Platoon Commander thought it was the sort of smile a man might wear sinking into hot water in the depths of winter. "... Is he, well, a little touched?"

The First Company Platoon Commander drew alongside Torres and discreetly pointed to his own head. His eyes, of course, were on Encrid. "I wouldn't exactly call him normal..."

Torres trailed off. He was thinking more of Encrid's everyday life than his current smile. No madman in the unit swung a sword as obsessively as the troublemaker squad's leader. "What are you looking at?"

"... You son of a bitch." While Encrid's guard was down, Rem and the First Company men started arguing. Encrid hurried back to stop Rem, and Torres and the others began restoring order as well.

* * *

Two commissions. The Company Commander had hushed up one, so no one knew he had killed a mage. But everyone knew about the monster extermination, from his slaying wolf demonic beasts alongside Rem to his taking on harpies with a sword. Few were surprised by what Rem had done. Someone who didn't know him might be startled once or twice, but his outstanding skill was the very reason he was allowed to remain in the unit. "That bastard Rem? He's always been a good fighter."

"With a better personality, couldn't he have made Battalion Commander?" When word spread through the unit, it was Encrid who astonished the soldiers. High-grade soldiers did rank near the top of the soldier grading system, true. But not every high-grade soldier could do something like that. Swinging a sword at harpies? Why do something so idiotic? And that idiocy had actually killed them? Had he barely managed to kill one, they could have called it luck. But there had been three. Rumors spread at a frightening pace.

"But how the hell did he do it?"

"I knew this would happen sooner or later."

"Encrid? The troublemaker squad's leader?"

"Didn't they say he broke a spell last time?"

"Huh. When I fought him before, I thought he barely qualified as high grade." It was hardly surprising there was so much talk. His dispatching the human-faced hounds had been impressive too, and more than a few people had witnessed it. "Then why is he still a Squad Leader?"

Rumors and questions spread through the unit. Naturally, they reached the Battalion Commander's ears. He couldn't ignore them. As a result, the Fairy Company Commander was summoned and questioned.

"Is it right to leave him as a mere Squad Leader?"

"His squad is rather unusual."

"We can't afford a monetary reward. I think a promotion would be appropriate." The Kingdom of Naurilia's system was clear: better performance meant better rewards. That was its essence. Policies like the soldier grading system and soldier-for-hire system existed for a reason. Payment came in money or honor. For his own benefit, the Battalion Commander proposed rank in place of money. The Company Commander knew the troublemaker squad's peculiarities well. Promoting Encrid to Platoon Commander would leave the squad uncontrollable. Then she simply needed a different approach. "Very well."

She saluted and turned to leave. She had thought of a clever way to satisfy the Battalion Commander while maintaining the current organization. And so, Encrid found himself saying,

"But I only have ten men under me."

"Regardless, as of today you hold a rank equivalent to Platoon Commander. Any objections?"

"None." It was his superior's decision. Encrid had no reason to argue. Particularly when that superior was the Fairy Company Commander. Becoming the target of needless teasing would be more uncomfortable. "Off you go."

And that was how he attained the rank of Platoon Commander. "Do we have to call you Platoon Commander now?"

"Oh, Platoon Commander, did your pay go up?"

"Then what about us?"

"Congratulations, brother."

"The edge on my sword is completely ruined." He wasn't sure those counted as congratulations. Ragna's final remark certainly didn't. In reality, becoming a Platoon Commander changed nothing. Well, there had been talk of filling the vacancies in the squad, something that had been glossed over until now. A squad's full complement was ten. Until now, though, there had been only six, including Encrid. Their official designation was the Independent Platoon under Fourth Company. They were no longer Fourth Squad. He had been told he could recruit more platoon members if he wanted, but...

'Why bother?' They might be called an Independent Platoon, but they would seldom undertake operations on their own. The only real privilege he received was that Platoon Commanders didn't stand regular duty. "That's a little unfair, isn't it?"

Rem complained, but the assurance that the squad would remain intact made him willing to overlook most things. Those were the changes that followed his promotion and the spread of rumors through the unit. Even so, Encrid's daily life remained unchanged. "You wish to learn more, then?"

He started with Audin. Organizing his existing abilities was one thing, but he hated wasting time. Whenever he had time, he must never stop learning and practicing. That, Encrid believed, was the key to making use of his repeating today. That was why he sought Audin out. He wanted what came after the techniques his body had learned and mastered.

"Have you heard of bed combat?" What nonsense was this now?

"It is a training method devised by the paladin Balaf."

That was Audin's explanation. Balaf-style martial arts. A succession of holds and joint locks rather than punches and blows. Being pinned and twisted on a bed became another part of his daily routine. Of course, Audin wasn't the only one teaching him something new. Before he knew it, winter's characteristic bitter cold was retreating. Encrid remained the same. His days repeated so relentlessly that, if the ferryman appeared in his dreams, he was liable to ask the bastard just what the hell he was. Then rumors began to circulate. Full-scale war was coming, not the localized skirmishes they were fighting now. It was only natural. On the previous battlefield, the enemy had brought out spells, and his own side a squire, changing the course of the fighting. Spring was approaching, and with it a battlefield fiercer than before. And before that spring arrived, Encrid spent his days busier than ever, putting his abilities in order.