Chapter 192 - You Crying?
Valen-style Mercenary Swordsmanship, close-quarters technique: the headbutt.
Enkrid was surprised. No, he was surprised, but the path he had walked so far had been too harsh for him to be taken down by such a blow. The Instinct of Evasion activated, and his body moved on its own. He ducked his head, dodged, and then kicked out her leg.
With a thwack, he kicked her ankle, and the white lion tumbled forward. Enkrid's sword passed through the space where she fell. If she had stayed there, a gash would have been left somewhere on her body, but she avoided it by rolling forward. Her reaction speed and judgment were good.
Enkrid naturally increased his own speed. He stepped, swung his sword, and then changed the speed of his reaction. The tempo itself changed. This was the biggest change in Enkrid recently. A diagonal slash, twice as fast as any he had wielded before, shot out even from a stance where his waist was twisted.
Dunbakel gritted her teeth. It was an unavoidable angle. She raised her elbow.
Tak! Pak! Pshuk!
She had intended to block the flat of the blade with her elbow bone, but her opponent had cleverly noticed and twisted the blade. The blade, which had been pointing down, instantly turned sideways, and Dunbakel ended up pressing her elbow against the sharp edge. Even so, her unique beastkin reflexes weren't dead; she managed to knock the blade away even as part of her elbow was sliced.
"You can do that?" a low voice sounded. It was sharp and clear. Above all, it was close.
Dunbakel had thought she could hold out to some extent by transforming into a beastkin. It was an absurd notion. A blade, having closed the distance in an instant, fell upon her from above her head. To be honest, she didn't even know how he had closed the distance and swung his sword like that. She was too busy blocking, too busy dodging.
Dunbakel felt a tearing pain in her arm muscle as she swung her scimitar upwards. Just because she had resolved to die didn't mean she could die as anything less than a warrior. She wanted to enter the holy temple where their god resided after she died.
'Krimhalt.'
Dunbakel murmured the name of her god. It was the name of the god that all beastkin believe in, said to govern war and procreation. The one and only god of the beastkin. Do you wish to be embraced by Krimhalt? Then die as a warrior. If you die as a warrior, you will live on as Krimhalt's sword in the eternal vortex.
Tung! Ta-da-da-da-dang!
The sword that was meant to meet her scimitar slid down the blade, sending sparks flying. For a very brief moment, the red sparks seemed to illuminate the surroundings in the moonlight. Dunbakel, aiming for where her opponent's feet should be, kicked at his ankle with a Valen-style technique. It was a technique where you feign an attack with your weapon to draw their gaze, while casually kicking at their ankle. It was a decent trick, but her opponent lifted his sole to block her instep.
And then, a sword descended upon the back of her neck.
Tak. Feeling the cold touch, Dunbakel thought of the end.
'Will I be able to go to Krimhalt's side?'
As death approached, random thoughts suddenly intruded. And why wouldn't they? Those who have lived their lives trembling with indignation are bound to have many regrets. Abandoned by her village, abandoned in the city, and none of the beastkin would readily accept her. She had lived, cast out by her own kind. She had tried to prove herself as a mercenary, with her sword, but that too was not an easy path. She had thought it was the only way, but that too was blocked. It was unfair that she couldn't have children. It was unfair that she had been born like this.
'Why only me?'
Why did she alone have to live such a life? The sense of unfairness was soon replaced by a desire for life. Regret grabbed her by the ankles, and rage pounded at her heart.
Enkrid, who had just placed his sword on her neck, had paused, feeling a strange sensation. It was just intuition, or a sixth sense. A feeling that it would be better not to kill her. To add a rational thought to this:
'I also need one mouth to speak of their affiliation, who sent them, and things like that.'
At first, she had charged as if she wanted to die, but the moment he paused with his sword at her neck, her body began to tremble. In Enkrid's eyes, he could see the white lion's fur shaking. He could see fear and resentment. The beastkin placed her palms on the ground, pulled back her hind legs, and curled up.
'She looks like Esther when she's tired.'
Weren't they strangely similar? With that thought, he asked abruptly, "Do you want to live?"
Dunbakel lifted her head, the sword still resting on her neck. Were her eyes always this blue? Tears streamed down from her eyes, which held a faint golden glow.
'...She's crying here?'
It was, of course, an unexpected moment.
"Krrrr, krrrr."
The beastkin cried. It was difficult to pinpoint the internal change, but he seemed to know one thing for sure.
'It sounds like she's asking me to save her.'
He withdrew his sword, and as soon as he did, a familiar voice pierced his ears.
"What? You're not killing her? Hwaaam."
It was Rem. He spoke while opening his mouth so wide it looked like it would tear. He let out a hearty yawn.
"When did you get here?"
"Just now. From when you started fighting that beast. But is this a lion-person? Or a beastkin?"
Her appearance was close to that of a lycanthrope, but there was no monster that would burst into tears after losing a fight.
"Hey, you a crybaby?" Rem slapped the white lion on the back of the head. It was his usual self. A bullying posture. He squatted down and poked her head, then slapped her on the back of the head again with his palm.
"Stop crying. He said he's not going to kill you."
Rem wasn't the only one who had come. Audin, Jaxen, Ragna, and Krais, who had come down at some point, had also arrived.
"What's all this in the middle of the night?" Krais said.
"Was it loud?" Enkrid asked back.
Jaxen answered, pointing to the side. "Esther called."
It was his usual dry tone. However, Enkrid felt something subtly different in it. Admiration? Was it something similar?
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Did you see the fight?"
Jaxen nodded and closed his mouth. In truth, he had arrived even before Rem and had seen everything. With a more detailed and meticulous gaze than Audin. The eye of a first-rate fighter recognizes the skill of the first-rate. So he was inwardly marveling. Even though he already knew, when he showed his changed skills like this, it felt as if something like magic had happened.
Were the others not surprised?
"How did you do that technique at the end?" Ragna asked.
"I mixed the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship with the new style I learned."
At those words, Ragna's expression became subtle.
"Did the Frog teach you that?"
"Huh?" No, Luagarne had told him to learn various sword styles. Mixing them like this was, well, something he had just tried naturally. In that moment, that's how it had felt.
As he replayed and mulled over that moment, Enkrid also found himself wondering why he had done that.
'Why did I do that?'
He had done it because he felt it was the most necessary movement in that moment. So, was that wrong? No. It probably wasn't. That's how he felt.
They were opponents inferior to him. He had gone out with the feeling of testing his new sword. He would only know for sure after finding out where they came from, but…
'At least at the level of the Border Guard's elite.'
The Border Guard was a place where all the top-class soldiers gathered. Among them, the elite fought particularly well. He had often heard that one of the guard members who was away on some mission had been the strongest sword in the Border Guard until now. So, the carnage he had just created was roughly equivalent to fighting ten of the Border Guard's elite. The last beastkin was even better than them.
When had he become able to look at them like this? He really didn't know.
'It's still not enough.'
And yet, a thirst burned within him. He was not satisfied here. No, he could not be satisfied. What if that quasi-knight had been here? Aishia, the woman who had made him unable to forget her name.
'It would have been easier than this.'
In any battle, in any moment, there was no end to learning. Enkrid had known that since he was young. The problem was that his body didn't follow his learning, but Enkrid's attitude had always been right. He craved learning and never stopped.
"What was your affiliation?"
Just as he was organizing his thoughts, he saw Krais open his mouth from behind Rem. He didn't get close to the beastkin, only opening his mouth. In front of him, Rem was running his mouth with a sneer. No, his hands were running too. He would thwack-thwack her head, then poke her shoulder with his finger, specifically where she had been cut by the sword.
"Does it hurt? It doesn't hurt me." "Hey, you a crybaby? A beastkin crybaby?" "What's with your face? Did you eat a curse instead of meat when you were young?" "First time seeing a lion cry. Cry some more. Should I dig into your wound for you? It'll be easier to cry if it hurts, right?" "Hey, I told you to cry."
Enkrid realized anew. Rem was truly the man with the worst personality in the world. If a provocation was needed on the battlefield, he would surely put that bastard at the front. Enkrid himself used words to some extent to grasp his opponent's intentions, but that guy was on the level of having a malevolent spirit in his mouth.
"Why did this bastard come here in the middle of the night and mark his territory? Huh? Is that why this great one had to get out of bed?" Rem said.
There were two errors in his statement. One, crying is not marking territory. Two, no one had called for Rem.
'Why did he come out?'
Just as Enkrid was about to move, the white lion, unable to hold back any longer, lifted its head. Something like anger flickered in its teary eyes. It would be more accurate to call it resentment.
"KHHUNG, you son of a bi…"
The white lion's resentful shout was not properly finished.
Smack. Thwack!
Rem was merciless. Still squatting, he moved his left foot to the side and swung his right elbow horizontally. An attack that used the rotation of his waist. If it weren't for a situation like this, it was a strike with such perfect form that one would have admired it, coming from a squatting position.
"Excellent," even Audin expressed his admiration.
In any case, the elbow struck the back of the white lion's head. The one who was hit tumbled forward.
"Gack!" A sound like a groan came from the rolling white lion's mouth.
"No, wait, let's talk for a second," Krais said, stopping Rem. Enkrid also had to side with Krais. If they left him, it looked like he would beat her to death.
"This kitty cat, how dare it hiss at me."
Seeing Rem grumbling, it seemed he had more than enough intention to do so.
"Don't kill her."
When he was told gently to stop, Rem raised both hands.
"No, I was just poking her. Just a light tap, like this, see? Like a friendly wave of greeting."
If he gets friendly twice, several people are going to die.
"So, what was your affiliation?"
The white lion, who had been beaten, cried, was teased, spewed resentment, and then beaten again, had given up. She wanted to live, she was full of regret, and in truth, she had no loyalty to protect. She had never wanted the reputation she had gained in the mercenary world. That was something she could lose. She hadn't hidden any pouches of krona within the bandit group. She had spent it all as she earned it.
Thanks to this, Dunbakel's mouth opened easily.
"Black Sword."
"The bandit group? You mean them?"
"That's right."
At Dunbakel's nod, Krais's expression hardened. "Well, this is…"
Enkrid listened in silence. He had stopped them through a series of coincidences, but he had no way of knowing what was behind this incident. Battalion Commander Marcus had asked if he loved the city. He had protected it in this moment, so it felt like a pretty good result, and he was satisfied with that. However, there was something that weighed on his mind.
'They're weak.'
Wasn't the military strength of the border guards too pathetic? It was partly because his own standards had risen, but wouldn't it be a problem if an enemy like this came again? If a similar raid happened again, the soldiers on patrol would die without being able to put up a proper fight. More than that, there was a man in a soldier's uniform who had tried to open the postern gate. It was unavoidable that there were many spies in the city, but blatantly opening the gate was a problem.
It had happened right in front of Enkrid's nose, and it was a problem he could see, so it was true that he wanted to do something about it, but it wasn't as if he could do anything right away.
"Commander, I think we need to report first," Krais said, having approached him at some point.
Rem, watching this, asked, "Are we really keeping this thing alive?"
"We have to keep her alive," Krais said hastily. It seemed he thought Rem would really 'lop off' her head if he left him.
Enkrid nodded. With a nod, he gave weight to Krais's words and added, "Take her into custody."
For now, they just had to capture her. The Battalion Commander would take care of the rest.
Just as he thought that and was about to move, he saw the group of soldiers who had become spectators. Turning around, he met the eyes of a commander. A man with insignia on his shoulders. The moment their eyes met, he gave a military salute. A platoon leader. It was a face he had seen coming and going. He had received the rank of Company Commander, but it had not yet been officially recognized. So, a crisp salute like this was a first.
Enkrid sheathed his sword and received the salute by tapping the pommel with his palm.
"Thanks to you!"
"It was nothing."
He said and turned away. The platoon leader had been extremely surprised, but now he was moved. If it hadn't been for Enkrid, if it hadn't been for that Madmen Squad—no, Company—he would have died like those raiders. He would have become a cold corpse, leaving his wife behind. Would he have died alone? Several of his subordinates, whom he thought of as brothers, would have gone with him.
While he was lost in thought, Krais scurried over and said, "The Black Sword story is a secret."
"...Mm. Understood." Right now, he was in the mood to listen to anything he said.
"We'll handle the report from our side."
Krais ran his mouth and then started to clean up the area, not leaving the side of the corpses. He wondered why.
"Wouldn't it be right for our company to collect the spoils of war?"
His eyes were shining, and his attitude was supremely confident. Of course, he was right. The platoon leader personally had his subordinates carry the Manticore corpse and search the bodies of the dead. There were no pouches of krona, but the weapons they used were all of good quality iron. So, it was worth a hefty sum.
And Krais was not the man to miss such an opportunity.