Chapter 31 - Set Fire
'It feels like my specialty has become setting fire to tents' Enkrid thought, briefly explaining the plan while holding a piece of wood.
No one in the squad added anything and just listened.
At this point, it was like they were already caught in the arrow once it was fired.
Then Enkrid moved.
"I'll go first."
He stepped quietly, without making a sound.
Eventually, he lowered his posture, lying flat and crawling on the ground.
The entire squad watched as Enkrid crawled.
His plan was simple.
A basic trick—yell from the east and strike from the west.
The group shouting was Mac and the rest of the squad.
Only three were absent from the shouting side.
Enkrid, Andrew, and the soldier with a history as a thug.
"I'll do it."
Mac stepped up first, taking on the role of attracting the soldier's attention.
There were no complaints, and he spoke up without hesitation.
Enkrid thought little of Mac's sudden change in attitude.
It was fine as long as he followed orders.
Mac slowly loosened up in the dark, picked up a rock, and threw it.
The rock hit the thug's helmet.
Thud!
The rock bounced off the helmet, and the soldier screamed in pain.
"...Damn it."
"What's that!"
The four soldiers on guard turned their bodies toward the sound.
Enkrid held his breath and watched them.
There was no need for words.
"Intruder!"
The soldier shouted.
Chaos ensued.
At that moment, Enkrid tried to move closer to the tent.
"You little rat."
He was caught.
There was no need to panic.
He had learned from today's events.
'Can't do this alone.'
A soldier holding a spear next to the tent glared at him.
Before the soldier could charge, Enkrid rose to his feet.
The dirt on his chest fell to the ground.
Without even a battle cry, the soldier with the spear lunged.
Enkrid watched the spear fly and twisted his body to avoid it.
No, it wasn't just about avoiding.
He gambled with half his life.
The hearth of the beast gave him the courage to do something reckless.
He dodged and moved forward.
The spear grazed his shoulder.
He barely avoided it.
He felt a burning heat from his shoulder.
Instead, Enkrid had closed the distance to his opponent.
The moment he gained distance, he slashed upward with his sword.
The enemy soldier, seeing the sword, lowered his spear to block with his shield.
At the same time, Enkrid thrust his hidden left-hand knife toward the soldier's collarbone.
Crack!
The blade pierced both bone and flesh.
"Ugh!"
The enemy soldier groaned.
Enkrid slammed his forehead into the soldier's nose.
Thud!
The soldier fell backward without even letting out another sound.
It was the Valen-style mercenary swordplay, the three-sword method.
The first sword was a trick; the real attack was the knife in the left hand and the headbutt.
He had gambled half his life to rush toward the spear like this.
He had taken down the enemy soldier.
But, since he had already been discovered, starting a fire in the barracks was no longer feasible.
Another soldier appeared behind the fallen one, holding a torch and a sword.
The man with scars around his eyes looked formidable.
Just his stride and attitude told Enkrid everything.
He wasn't a rookie.
"Pathetic."
He clicked his tongue before speaking.
There was a sense of ease in his step.
He had just witnessed an ambush in the dark, but there was not the slightest hint of fear in his demeanor.
"Hah, that took a while."
Enkrid muttered.
The man furrowed his brow at his words.
Flames were rising behind him.
The tent had caught fire.
"...Put it out!"
The man shouted.
Seeing this, Enkrid rushed forward and thrust his sword.
He pushed off the ground with his right foot and planted his left foot firmly.
"Everything begins with the feet."
This was the basic swordsmanship shared by Rem and Ragna.
Enkrid did just that.
With his feet.
He kicked the ground and moved forward. In an instant, he saw the soldier holding both a sword and a torch, and the gap in his stance was clear.
Enkrid thrust his sword.
A thrust that carried all his body's power, the same thrust that had killed so many soldiers before.
Thud!
The sword cut through the air and reached its target.
It was a moment, an instant.
Out of all the thrusts he had performed, this one was the best.
Even considering all the repetitions from today.
Enkrid thought he had killed the enemy.
As he focused, everything seemed to slow down.
The world around him, the soldier's hand, and even his own sword—all moved slower.
In this slowed world, the enemy soldier's hand twitched.
Soon, the soldier's sword rose from below, aiming upward.
Clang!
Thud!
Enkrid swerved past the man, his body bouncing sideways as he stopped, clutching his side.
The enemy soldier, who had been facing away, turned back to face him.
He looked at Enkrid and raised his eyebrows.
"Arrogant bastard."
The enemy seemed to be boiling with rage.
Of course, the anger was no problem for Enkrid.
The real issue was the incredible sword skill.
'At that moment?'
The thrust had been perfect.
It had been flawlessly satisfying.
It was the kind of thrust that even Rem wouldn't have dared to stop unless he had an axe that bent like a whip.
Yet, the enemy had avoided it.
There was a faint cut on his neck, but it was far from a fatal wound—it could be considered a mere scratch.
Meanwhile, the enemy's reflexive counterattack had sliced Enkrid's side.
It wasn't a deep wound.
The bone wasn't damaged.
He wouldn't die from it.
'Let my guard down for a moment.'
But this was the result.
After all, how familiar had Enkrid become with 'today'?
Still, it felt as though a great river lay between him and the enemy.
The enemy could cross it and strike or kill him at any time, but Enkrid felt like all he needed to do was dip his feet in the river, and that would be the end of it.
There was a clear gap in skill between them.
So what?
When had he ever fought only against weaker opponents?
Enkrid steadied his breath and gripped his sword.
If this was the turning point of today, all he could do was give his best.
The skill gap felt overwhelming.
But it didn't change anything.
While others would see the gap as despair or a precipice,
Enkrid saw it as a staircase.
A staircase that, one day, he would climb.
A thrilling euphoria filled him, starting from his toes and spreading to his chest.
Look.
How is repeating today a curse?
By overcoming countless days like today, he would eventually defeat that overwhelming powerhouse.
It will happen, without a doubt.
He would never settle for today.
That's why the euphoria surged.
Enkrid's heart, filled with this feeling, was evident on his face.
"You're smiling?"
The face of the enemy soldier holding a sword twisted in anger.
While Enkrid's face displayed euphoria, this one showed nothing but rage.
"I'll tear you apart and feed you to the dogs."
Enkrid sensed death.
He couldn't win against the opponent right now.
But he had no intention of submitting quietly.
He braced for pain, refusing to retreat.
As he gripped his sword, his resolve strengthened.
Whoosh.
A flame erupted behind the man.
The earlier fire seemed like a joke compared to now, as though a dragon itself had spit fire.
The flames quickly spread across the entire tent.
Sparks flew in all directions, sizzling and crackling.
From beyond the flames, frantic voices rang out.
"These bastards! Put out the fire!"
"Someone poured oil! Platoon leader!"
"The torch fell over!"
Oh, they were efficient.
Enkrid had deliberately drawn attention to the tent to ignite it.
Once by Mac and the squad members.
Another time, with his own actions.
The fire had been set by Andrew and the thug-turned-squad member.
The thug-turned-squad member showcased his skill, learned from causing trouble in the city.
"The flagpole's burning!"
A man shouted as he watched the flames rise beside the tent.
He had a strange tattoo on his face.
"Platoon leader! Don't you know what's important right now?"
He scolded the man standing in front of Enkrid.
Seeing this, Enkrid took a small step back.
Even though his skill was inferior to the opponent's, he wouldn't die easily from one or two sword strikes.
The enemy knew this too.
If he held on, he could outlast the flames as they consumed the tent and the flagpole inside it.
Honestly, Enkrid didn't understand why someone would risk their life over a flagpole.
The only thing he knew for sure was that the opponent valued it.
More than the lives of a few enemy soldiers, much more.
"You'll regret this."
The enemy, a platoon leader from the Aspen unit, glared at Enkrid before suddenly turning around.
Rather than facing Enkrid, he judged it more urgent to handle those setting the fire in the rear.
Enkrid exhaled a quiet sigh of relief inside.
It felt like he had just come back from the dead.
The feeling of dying, no matter how many times he repeated today, never got easier.
If this was a curse, then it was truly a curse.
Having to face that horrific moment over and over again.
But the pain and death he faced weren't the real problems for Enkrid.
If this could push him forward, if it could make him stronger, why couldn't he endure it?
"We need to go."
As Enkrid stood on alert, Andrew's voice came from behind.
Looking over, Andrew's face was covered in soot.
"We retreat."
Enkrid spoke and moved.
The thug-turned-soldier followed him.
As they ran, Andrew pulled out a flute and blew into it.
Screee, screee!
After blowing twice, Mac arrived with the remaining squad members.
Enri was bleeding, and no other soldiers followed Mac.
The original ten-man squad had been reduced by half.
And now, Enkrid's escape route had opened.
"They're getting busy. The enemy doesn't have a large pursuit force, right?"
Mac seemed to ask, perhaps to confirm his suspicions.
He too had a gash on his forehead, blood trickling down.
"Probably not."
Enkrid answered, moving his feet.
Blood continued to flow from his side.
It wasn't a deep wound, but without any bandages, the blood refused to stop.
For now, he pressed it down with his hand and kept running.
From this point on, it was a new day, so Enkrid stayed alert to their rear.
The enemy was in pursuit.
Five of them were chasing them.
"You crazy bastards!"
The pursuers seemed relatively unscathed.
Though soot marked their faces, none of them were injured.
These five were more than enough for Enkrid, Andrew, and Mac.
Enri had a hole in his abdomen, staggering from the blood loss.
The thug soldier helped him, but couldn't fight properly.
"Dammit, we're all gonna die at this rate. Get a grip!"
The thug soldier yelled at Enri but didn't abandon him.
Enkrid, while fighting off the pursuers, felt his side wound tear further.
It wasn't life-threatening, though.
Mac had injured two of the pursuers, but his thigh was cut in the process.
Still, he quickly wrapped a bandage around his thigh and stayed with the group.
Andrew seemed to have rapidly improved in combat.
'No,' Enkrid realized it wasn't that Andrew had suddenly become stronger.
It was more accurate to say his original skills were now showing, honed through intense battle experience.
If Andrew hadn't fiercely swung his sword, killing two of the pursuers in a single strike, their escape might have failed.
Or it could have become even more perilous.
Blood was seeping from the wound on Andrew's cheek again.
Everyone was battered, but none of them were dead.
As they continued fleeing through the night, Enri whispered weakly, almost dead.
"If we head west from here, we'll reach the fox and snake habitats. They won't catch us there."
The Green Pearl plains were home to many animals.
Among them were foxes and snakes.
The foxes weren't the problem, but there were many venomous snakes, making it dangerous.
"We'll end up getting killed by venomous snakes before we shake off the enemy."
Mac grumbled.
Then Enri, with a faint smile, spoke up.
"There's an area where the fox and snake habitats overlap. I know it. It's a boundary zone, so it's safe. It's a hunter's path."
Enkrid couldn't help but think how strange it was that Enri was smiling so faintly under such dire circumstances.
Guiding them through the forest in this condition?
His mental strength was extraordinary.
Everyone looked at Enkrid.
It was his decision to make.
"We'll follow your lead."
Enkrid spoke and moved.
There was no hesitation.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted.
'The first time I saw him.'
The enemy platoon leader's face lingered in his mind.
Had the platoon leader shown up every time, Enkrid would have been too busy fighting for his life.
But this was the first time.
Perhaps he had only appeared because Enkrid had pushed him to this point.
'Or not.'
Upon further thought, Enkrid realized he had heard that voice before.
After repeating today a few times, when they had taken refuge in the tent the enemy had set fire to.
As he barely entered the tent guarded by the enemy, Enkrid witnessed a strange sight.
The flagpole, the flag.
Strange smoke rising, a man with tattoos on his face.
He had even kicked the flagpole in frustration.
At that moment, Enkrid realized the flagpole must have held great significance to the enemy.
Then, from behind, someone had struck Enkrid's neck.
"Who the hell are you?"
Upon reflection, Enkrid realized the voice belonged to the same man.
Lost in thought, Enkrid followed Enri's lead, and soon the surroundings began to turn blue.
The light from above surrounded them, heralding the start of a new day.
It was dawn.
The sky began to brighten.
Enkrid realized he had passed yet another today.
As the sun rose and the surroundings grew bright, Enkrid's scout unit met with the main reconnaissance team.
"What happened to you guys?"
As soon as they met, the scout leader asked.
Enkrid had more pressing matters to address than explaining.
There were many injured.
The report could wait until they were on their way back.
For now, surviving was enough.
"Phew, I'm passing out."
Enri murmured from behind.
Enkrid said nothing in reply.
There was no point in speaking to someone who had already lost consciousness.