Chapter 199 - Commander, a Present Has Arrived.
The difference was clear. One spoke of technique, form, and meaning. The other spoke of how to overwhelm with superior power. If one focused on swordsmanship, the other was a mass of senses focused on instinct.
Both were important, and both were necessary. It wasn't as if Ragna didn't use his senses, nor did Rem refrain from borrowing the forms of swordsmanship.
'Their characteristics are just clear.'
Therefore, there was something to be learned. There was also a commonality between the two. Whether it was swordsmanship, senses, steps, attack, or defense…
'Precision.'
It was as if they were embroidering with a needle, or perhaps poking a grain of wheat with a fork. The commonality between the two was the precision with which they minutely changed their posture, hand movements, and steps even as they fought.
"These bastards."
The cause of their defeat had long since become apparent. The poleaxe-wielding bandit's face went pale. The strength drained from his muttering voice. He seemed to have foreseen his own death. He had keenly felt the difference in skill. It was the same for the five facing Rem. Two of them had their swords broken and had drawn shortswords, while the one who had been throwing daggers to find an opening had instead found his own dagger embedded between his eyebrows, a fatal ornament. The man who had fallen dead had at first twitched, but was now growing cold.
One of the four who charged in, leaving their dead comrade behind, had his arm cut off. These were things that happened even with the relaxed attacks meant to be a demonstration for Enkrid.
Meanwhile, the female bandit who, despite having a dagger in her thigh, tried to shoot an arrow from the tree had to stop each time she felt Enkrid's gaze. Enkrid, finding this very annoying, threw another dagger and hit the female bandit's forearm. He was busy observing those two, and she kept distracting him.
"Kuuuh."
A groan escaped the female bandit in the tree. The poleaxe-wielding bandit, his eyes bloodshot, charged with tears of blood streaming from his eyes. At the last moment, he risked death, threw his spear, and tried to embrace Ragna.
Ragna, in turn, showed not the precision of the formal sword style he had been demonstrating, but his true specialty. The blade of his arming sword became a ray of light and cut diagonally through the bandit's body. A heavy sword downward slash. The harmony of power and technique sliced the human torso like a bundle of straw.
Afterward, he instantly moved to the side and struck the face of the woman with the rapier with his fist.
THWACK!
"Kruk!"
A few teeth flew through the air. As the female bandit who was clutching her face retreated, he followed with a horizontal slash.
Swish!
A head flew through the air. Ragna didn't stop there. As if taking turns with Rem, he used a heavy sword style that was rough yet precise, and precise yet powerful, unlike the forms of swordsmanship he had shown a moment ago.
"Kiyaat!"
It was a brown-skinned female bandit who could be mistaken for a man at a glance. Her spear flew forward. Ragna used his feet to dodge it. It was a feat possible only because he had perfectly read the trajectory and speed of the incoming spear. Dodging the spear, he took a bold step forward, followed by a strike to the crown of her head. With a heavy sword cutting blow, Ragna's sword struck the female bandit's head.
THWACK!
Her head was crushed like a soft apple. That was the end of it.
He had killed them all. After killing them, Ragna calmly flicked the blood from his sword and turned his head. His gaze was, of course, directed at Enkrid.
'Did you see that properly?'
It was a question he could feel without words. Enkrid nodded. The precision, the meaning of swordsmanship, the power that form provides. It was another path forward, another signpost. Enkrid was immensely pleased. Especially since it didn't end with Ragna.
"Why'd you finish first!"
He didn't know why that was a reason to be angry, but Rem burst out in anger and swung his axe. After a few blows of overwhelming power, the opponents took a thoroughly defensive stance. Another one's eyes darted around. He clearly had a trick up his sleeve.
Rem abandoned his method of charging with power and began to slowly swing his axe according to a form.
'Steps, hand gestures, posture.'
And then, the falling axe blade. It was not for the purpose of taking the opponent's life. Enkrid noticed, but the bandits did not. The one with the trident raised his spear to block the axe. In that gap, another one turned to the side and opened his mouth.
"Pfft!"
It was poison sand. He had held it in his mouth and spat it out. It must have been his trump card, but Rem retreated as if it were a prepared move.
"Damn it."
The bandit with the blue-stained lips let out something like a lament. Rem smirked.
"It's obvious, you bastard."
And then, his axe blade danced and slit the bandit's throat. One of them suddenly stabbed his legless comrade in the neck and shouted, "Please spare me! I'll tell you everything!" a rather pathetic end.
"Oh yeah? Good. You'll endure anything, right?"
Hadn't he said he would tell him anything? Rem's ears were different from other people's ears, especially in that he heard what he wanted to hear.
"Huh? Yes?"
"Where should I start? Hands first? Feet first?"
"...Yes?"
"I'm going to mince you. Into little pieces like this." Rem held up his axe and showed the size with his thumb and forefinger.
"...Yes?"
The bandit didn't understand. Rem swung his axe with a smiling face. Swoosh, thwack. A flying head, a falling body.
"Just kidding. I don't have such a sick hobby."
I think you do, you probably do. Enkrid thought as he looked at Rem. Rem turned around and said, "Did you get a good look?"
The intent was clear in that single question. Ragna and Rem had fought so slowly for him to see, to show their commander.
'These two.'
How strong would they be if they really revealed everything? Just when he thinks he's caught up, they seem to be one step ahead. When he knew nothing, he thought they were about the level of a high-ranking soldier. When he reached the skill of a high-ranking soldier, he thought their skill was beyond what could be discussed with the soldier ranking system. And when he became above top-class and took a step towards his dream…
'They're strong enough to kill a quasi-knight.'
In other words, he judged their martial power to be at least at the level of a quasi-knight. Rem had said with his own mouth that he couldn't kill them one hundred percent of the time, but… he didn't know. When Rem said that, it was as if he were saying that if he had some other means, he could definitely kill them. An attitude that did not consider defeat at all. It was an attitude that was not born of arrogance or conceit, but of facing and grasping reality.
It was the same for Ragna. And Audin and Jaxen were similar. The four of them were monsters. Enkrid marveled anew at his own luck.
'Four monsters.'
Four teachers. Four times the things to learn. Isn't that the best?
"Hmm."
As Enkrid nodded in admiration, Dunbakel, who had been watching the entire fight, had her mouth hanging open.
Drip.
Drool flowed and fell to the ground. She was so shocked that she didn't even realize her mouth was open.
'The Black Sword's Ten Swords.'
A ten-person unit that handled most jobs, the strongest force besides the branch leader. That was who their opponents had been. Moreover, the man with the poleaxe had been a mercenary before he converted, and he had been quite famous even then. A mercenary who had boasted that he was confident of facing anyone who wasn't at a quasi-knight level, and had raised his fame by surviving a skirmish with a knight order's squire.
'They played with them.'
Dunbakel had eyes. She could see Ragna's skill. It was all too clear that his swordplay was extraordinary. No, it was on a level where he was just playing with them. Dunbakel realized anew that their skills could not be measured by her own standards.
Rem, seeing the astonished Dunbakel, said, "Close your mouth. It stinks."
Only then did Dunbakel close her mouth.
Enkrid approached the female bandit with holes in her thigh and forearm. The female bandit, writhing like an insect under the tree, said, "I, I'm good. If you save me, I'll… hmm? I'm serious."
What is this mountain of a woman saying? Does the word 'female bandit' evoke the image of a beautiful woman? Then there's a problem with your head. This woman was every bit a bandit. Black front teeth, one of them missing, skin so rough it was menacing, and eyes that smelled of blood. She smelled sour, as if she hadn't washed for days, and a musty smell of piss began to mix in.
The woman who had pissed herself looked at Enkrid. What should he see in this woman's eyes? A will to live? Or something of survival? He had seen Dunbakel's eyes a while ago and had spared her. Enkrid didn't regret or chew over his choice then. It was something he had done because his heart had moved, regardless of right or wrong. At that time, he had not seen any soot in Dunbakel's eyes.
So, what about now?
Puk.
He plunged his sword into the female bandit's neck. A plea to be saved was no different from a plea to be treated. Her body was already seriously injured; she would only have a chance of survival if he treated her and took her with them. The places where the daggers were embedded were bad. Both the thigh and the forearm. They were daggers thrown to restrict movement. They had severed the muscles needed to move. In other words, a plea to be saved here was the same as saying, 'Please call a high-ranking priest immediately,' or 'Please take me with you, treat me, and cherish me.'
The opponent was a bandit. Even if the name Black Sword sounded plausible, were they part of some great organization? No way, not a chance. Originally, this bandit group's name was something like the Red Sword or the Blood Sword. It had hardened over a long time and became a group that caused trouble, and when the blood turned black, it became the Black Sword. And if she was a main force among them, regardless of gender, she would be a bitch.
Of course, he had relied on his sixth sense to some extent, but this was a world where killing and being killed was a matter of course. A world teeming with battlefields, monsters, and bandits. Moreover, the people here were experts in slaughter. There was even the derogatory term 'slaughter machine' for knights, and Enkrid, who was heading towards that, thought there was no need to turn away from that derogatory term.
Enkrid retrieved his embedded sword. There was no resentment in his heart. No, he brushed it off and turned away.
"So, is this the end?" Rem asked. He seemed to have loosened up a bit, and the fierceness he had shown before had diminished. He wondered why he had been so fierce lately, but instead of asking, Enkrid said what needed to be said.
"Their base must be in even more of an uproar."
"Is there something more happening?" Rem tilted his head, and Ragna asked.
Enkrid was no fool. He had sensed the atmosphere even before Krais had explained it to him one by one. And why not? An unsettling atmosphere had been hovering over the barracks even before they left this place. Of course, the dull-witted had just let it pass, but even someone like Vengence had vaguely noticed.
"Is something going on lately? The atmosphere is a bit strange, isn't it?" he had asked.
Enkrid had felt it too, and he knew the source of that feeling.
'They're not coming.'
One of the units that had occasionally requested a spar had been completely absent. The Border Guard. Despite their name, they were a military unit mobilized for special operations. The commander of the Border Guard was officially of a company commander's rank, but in reality, he could be called the highest-ranking commander besides Battalion Commander Marcus.
'Then, it's obvious who would move them.'
And from here, Krais's detailed speculation was added.
"He's bold, that friend Marcus."
When the Battalion Commander had become his friend was a separate matter.
"From what I see, I think he plans to weed out the Black Sword first. He'll let the other side draw their attention." As he spoke, Krais's eyes turned to Enkrid. It was obvious without asking who was playing the role of the attention-drawer, the bait.
"He's striking from behind. Brilliant. Is this man a strategist?"
It was more amazing that Krais had figured it out. Therefore, he judged that something more was happening at the Black Sword's headquarters. And Enkrid's feeling and Krais's prediction were correct.
"Do you think you can survive in this land after making an enemy of the Black Sword?" the branch leader in charge of this area said, coughing up blood. Bright red blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The branch leader felt like his insides were burning. Not just a feeling, but a physical pain similar to it. It was because his internal organs were damaged.
"Like I care," the commander of the Border Guard said leisurely, playing with a knife in his hand. The blade of the knife, spinning in his hand, reflected the torchlight. The knife was so well-sharpened that it was chilling. The commander of the Border Guard thought that he didn't know what tricks the opponent had hidden. So there was no reason to close the distance.
"You damned kingdom bastards," the branch leader's words were tinged with resentment. He probably had his reasons, but it was none of his business.
The commander of the Border Guard's knife cut through the air.
THWACK!
The thrown knife embedded itself precisely between his eyebrows. The branch leader's body, struck by the knife, fell backward with a thud.
"Take everything worth taking and burn the rest."
This was happening while Enkrid was happily fighting on his way to the ambush site. The commander of the Border Guard had led his unit and moved under the cover of darkness. The guard was a unit with outstanding strength in this kind of work.
When the Black Sword was focused on the front—that is, on the half-wit noble bastard named Vansento and Enkrid—they closed the distance as much as possible and advanced straight to the Black Sword's headquarters. It was a mountain fortress on the mountainside. Their defenses were quite strong as they also had to deal with monsters, but…
'If the fighting force is pathetic, there's a limit to what you can block with defensive facilities.'
More than anything, their main force was all out. The so-called Ten Swords of the Black Sword were nowhere to be seen.
"The ones who ran away?"
"They know the geography around here like the back of their hand, so we lost them."
'That's not good.'
While the commander of the Border Guard was searching the Black Sword's mountain fortress and the cave where they had stored their treasures, over twenty men had escaped. The man in the front had seemed quite skilled, yet he had fled without hesitation.
'If it was the leader's order…'
It would be a side that proved the Black Sword was no ordinary bandit group. In any case, what was lost was lost. But the commander of the Border Guard focused on the results rather than dwelling on what he couldn't catch.
"We won."
It meant Marcus's plan had worked brilliantly.
One of the escaped Black Sword members was someone dispatched from the headquarters.
'It's a raid. This branch is finished.'
The escapee racked his brain. What was the best way to get out of here?
'The Ten Swords of the Black Sword.'
It was a law that the branch offices had the same system as the headquarters. He had heard that the ten from this branch had gone out for an ambush. It meant the branch leader had committed more forces than necessary to not screw up this job. And because of that, the headquarters had been taken so easily.
With the blazing mountain fortress at his back, the escapee ran straight for the ambush site. About twenty bandits followed behind him. The plan was to join up with the Ten Swords of the Black Sword, then break out and return to the main force.
Pant, pant, huff, huff!
With short breaths mixed with fear, they pushed through a shortcut, a rough mountain path. A cleverly hidden forest path was their escape route.
After pushing through the rough path and arriving at the ambush site, what they saw was…
"This looks useful."
…people searching the bodies of the dead. Among a man with black hair, a man with gray hair, and a man with blond hair…
'Dunbakel?'
…was a woman whose name he also knew. A beastkin they had hired as a mercenary.
The one who first saw him appear with a rustle was the man with gray hair.
"Commander, a present has arrived," the man who had spotted him said with a wide smile.