Chapter 108 - The Gambit
"It might just work."
As Finn approached the castle wall, she felt the watchful gazes on her were far less focused than before.
Her intuition wasn't quite at the level of the Sense of Evasion, but as a Ranger and Pathfinder, her instincts told her something had shifted.
Behind her, Torres doubted whether they were taking the right path, but he quickly shook his head.
"It's not the time for second-guessing."
Once the decision was made, it had to be followed through.
He was, after all, part of the frontier defense forces, a soldier ranked in Naurilia's elite tier.
While he wasn't strong enough to take on a hundred enemies alone, he was still capable of handling two or three at once, making him a reliable asset.
And then there was Enkrid.
"I'm going first."
He didn't bother to let Finn lead.
With decisive strides, he placed his hands in the crevices of the wall and began climbing.
He had already removed his tattered gambeson, and though he had used some throwing weapons, the longsword at his waist still rattled as he moved.
"...What kind of guy is he, really?"
He scaled the wall better than she could, and she was a Ranger.
Finn couldn't help but wonder aloud.
"I don't know. He's just... doing his thing."
"Wait...what did I just say?"
Torres repeated his own words, realizing how strange they sounded.
"I mean, I thought I knew him before. But now, I have no clue."
"Whatever. Just keep up."
Enkrid climbed the wall at an incredible pace, almost like an art form, making monkeys look clumsy in comparison.
Without hesitation, his hands and feet moved with purpose.
Finn followed close behind, though in her haste, she only had two stakes to use for securing herself to the wall.
Glancing down, she saw Torres struggling but managing to catch up.
He was grumbling, but as someone with excellent physical abilities, he wasn't far behind.
'And what about him?'
Finn looked up again.
Enkrid was already near the top of the wall, crouched beneath the parapet.
The parapet was a thick, tall defensive structure built atop the wall to provide cover for soldiers.
Climbing over it barehanded into the castle interior would be no easy feat for most people.
'Can he not climb it?'
It didn't seem likely.
For Finn, all it would take was hanging from her fingertips, pulling her upper body up, and using her core to vault over.
If she attached the small hook she carried just in case?
Even easier.
She could latch the hook, reel herself up, and jump over in one motion.
Afterward, she could help her companions up by pulling them over.
But Enkrid didn't seem to be struggling to climb.
Hanging beneath the parapet, he didn't even appear tired.
Looking down, he wiggled his fingers in a simple hand signal.
[Guards.]
There were sentries inside the wall.
Finn, however, couldn't hear or sense anything.
'Is he more perceptive than me, a Ranger?'
In truth, Enkrid hadn't sensed anything either.
He just knew, from experience.
Hanging beneath the parapet, Enkrid fell into thought.
'What kind of trick did they use?'
Something to suppress intuition.
That much was certain, though he still couldn't figure it out even after repeating this day over and over.
Some kind of magic was definitely at play.
Otherwise, this sense of peace wouldn't be possible.
The tunnel had already been compromised, leaving no time to feel uneasy before it was too late.
The Lykanos pack had likely slipped through because this land, near the Cross Guard, was a region where monsters frequently roamed.
But even the presence of troops hidden atop the wall had gone unnoticed?
It was clear some trick was involved.
For the past seventy repetitions of today, he had tried to uncover the mystery.
'Forget it.'
It was a matter of priorities.
The magic trick was less important compared to everything else.
His ultimate goals were clear.
Survive the day.
Train during that time.
And forge ahead, guided by his sword.
Even if he couldn't figure it out, it didn't matter.
Not in the slightest.
Through countless repetitions, he already knew what mattered most.
'This should be the spot.'
Enkrid shifted his position, moving to the left while hanging from the parapet.
To hang like this, the wall had to have crevices or gaps.
The walls of Cross Guard were constantly under attack from regular monsters and even colonies of them, leaving numerous scars.
While some repairs had been made, many gaps remained.
By hooking his fingers into those crevices and bracing with his toes, moving wasn't difficult.
As he repositioned himself along the wall, he mentally mapped out the area beyond the parapet.
When he first arrived here, he could only predict and guess.
Now, he could pinpoint even the location of Rethsha, the mage.
No, he was certain of it.
This arrogant mage had never left her spot during any of the countless repeated days.
Having found his position, Enkrid gave another hand signal.
[You two, go ahead.]
Finn and Torres saw the signal and started moving.
Finn went first, helping Torres climb over.
As soon as the two of them crossed the parapet...
Fwoosh!
Flames roared to life above them.
Six or seven torches had been lit simultaneously.
It wasn't the first time they had seen this.
"How did you get this far? My minions should've stopped you."
Rethsha's voice rang out.
As expected, she was just beyond the wall.
She didn't know him, but he knew her.
That alone gave him the upper hand.
He knew her name, her spells, everything.
"Damn it."
Torres cursed.
"It's really her."
Hearing Finn mutter, Enkrid reached out.
Gripping the edge of the parapet with just his fingertips, he pulled himself up with one arm.
The strength of the madmen in his squad, including Rem, that he had constantly marveled at.
Enhanced further by repeated use of the Isolation technique, his body now felt even lighter.
As soon as his head rose above the parapet, he twisted his body, executing a forward roll in midair.
It was a movement that would've been impossible for him in the past.
But repeated isolation training and countless trials had honed his skills.
Enkrid flipped through the air and dropped beneath the parapet.
Straightening his body mid-descent, he bent his knees to absorb the impact as his feet slammed into the ground.
Thud!
The ground trembled slightly, but he didn't bother rolling to soften the landing.
Standing directly in front of him was Rethsha, the mage.
Her eyes were wide in shock, staring at him as if unable to comprehend what she was seeing.
"You—"
Before she could finish speaking, Enkrid's hand moved.
Wheeee!
A whistling dagger flew straight at her.
Rethsha was startled but not flustered.
She merely wondered, Where did that come from?
Naturally, her confidence stemmed from her faith.
Surrounding her was an intangible barrier conjured by magic—one capable of deflecting quarrels shot at point-blank range.
She waited, expecting the dagger to strike her shield.
However, Enkrid's Whistle Dagger wasn't aimed at her.
It targeted the soldiers wielding crossbows behind her.
Thunk, thunk!
Enkrid, having activated his pinpoint focus, hit his marks precisely. The relentless training had paid off.
Four soldiers collapsed.
Yet just before they fell completely, Rethsha reacted.
"Hyah!"
A peculiar cry escaped her lips, and from the ground, thorny vines surged upward.
They twisted like serpents, whipping violently toward Enkrid.
The real battle had begun.
"Focus on the soldiers first!"
Enkrid shouted as he drew his sword.
Shing!
He swung his blade.
His head burned with intensity from concentrating too hard.
Thin ones, slice. Thick ones, deflect.
Enkrid moved with a foundation based on fluid swordsmanship, not rigid techniques.
Though he'd never formally been trained, Ragna had once told him,
"It's good to understand the basics of all sword styles. Sticking only to heavy-blade techniques is foolish. You must understand your opponent's methods to counter them properly."
Ragna, usually lazy and indifferent, occasionally displayed fervor during training.
Those rare moments of passion had left a mark on Enkrid.
As a result, he had practiced over seventy times against vines in training, and today, that preparation bore fruit.
Thin ones were sliced cleanly, while thick ones were deflected with calculated movements.
Thwack! Crack! Smack!
Some of the vines were as thick as a forearm and struck with the force of a club.
Yet, Enkrid deflected them with the flat of his blade, lowering his stance to channel the force upward.
It was a testament to the adaptability of his technique.
"You insolent fool!"
Rethsha was seething.
'How dare this swordsman evade my vines?'
Her hands moved, and soon thorny spears and whip-like vines lashed out at him.
Enkrid didn't rely on intuition or blind luck.
Instead, he opened his eyes wide, drawing all his focus to them.
It felt as though his burning gaze could see everything.
Each movement appeared slowed down, and he reacted accordingly.
Again, he sliced, deflected, parried, and evaded, all with precision.
He discarded vague feelings and trusted only what he saw.
As he dodged and countered the attacks of the thorny vines twice more, the anguished cries of soldiers filled the air.
The soldiers' death throes were proof that Torres and Finn weren't to be underestimated.
Torres, in particular, thrived when attention was diverted elsewhere.
His skill with daggers was nothing short of deadly.
"Well then," Rethsha muttered with eyes glowing like a serpent's, "I'll keep you dancing until you drop dead."
Her piercing gaze locked onto Enkrid, but he ignored it.
After all, he'd seen worse before.
His heart pounded like a wild beast's, and it felt as if Rem's voice echoed in his mind.
'If you're gonna fall to something like that, just rip out that heart of yours!'
Don't worry, you crazy bastard, Enkrid thought, I'm not going down to that.
As if provoked, Rethsha's vines intensified, thinning and accelerating in speed.
The forms changed—from spears and whips to something akin to arrows.
Though not true arrows, their sharpness and speed matched them.
Could a person block a barrage of incoming arrows?
The answer was simple.
No.
Not unless they were a knight.
But what if one had no choice but to block them?
Then what?
The answer, for someone like Enkrid, was straightforward: You do it until you die.
It was the soldier's way.
Or perhaps, the infantryman's spirit.
No, it was simply the essence of Enkrid's being.
There was no surrender, no regrets.
With both hands gripping his sword tightly, Enkrid pushed through the searing pain in his eyes and concentrated.
Connect the dots.
Using those lines as a guide, he cut through every thorny arrow.
As the vines shot upward from below and rained down from all directions, he lost count of their numbers.
Realizing it was futile to tally, Enkrid expanded his focus outward.
This was something he'd learned while fighting against Lykanthrope packs and the Grey Hounds—scattering one's focus to evade attacks within a field.
And before that, during the skirmishes in the tight spaces of the tunnels, he'd learned to make split-second decisions without hesitation.
Enkrid combined both skills and put them into action.
Shatter!
In an instant, vines in all directions were sliced apart, spilling green sap into the air.
Rethsha's face contorted with fury.
Blood vessels bulged on her forehead, and her eyes were bloodshot.
Her vines didn't stop, nor did Enkrid's blade.
Finn and Torres, mid-combat with other soldiers, couldn't help but steal glances at the intense duel.
It was more than just skill now—it was overwhelming.
Torres, after slitting the throat of an enemy soldier, thought, He's way beyond just good at fighting.
Thunk!
At that moment, a bolt shot into the soldier Torres had just killed.
"Couldn't you aim better?" Torres sneered, hearing the distant twang of the crossbow.
Meanwhile, another pained scream echoed.
This time, it came from Finn's handiwork.
Moving like a snake across the ground, she had snapped an enemy's leg in an unnatural direction.
The soldier collapsed, foaming at the mouth.
Finn didn't stop.
Pausing would only make her a target for the bolts.
Back in the duel, neither Enkrid nor Rethsha allowed anyone to approach their fierce battle.
The sharp, needle-like vines occasionally ricocheted off Enkrid's deflections, stabbing into the walls of the fortress.
Even allies wisely kept their distance, unwilling to die to friendly fire.
This gave Torres and Finn some breathing room.
Torres, watching the pointed vines pierce through the walls, thought grimly, Killing the soldiers isn't going to end this fight.
He realized that the outcome of this battle rested entirely on the duel between Enkrid and the mage.
If Rethsha won, Torres and Finn were as good as dead.
But how much longer could Enkrid hold out?
Even from their perspective, Enkrid was struggling.
Some vines had begun grazing his body.
In tandem, Rethsha's voice echoed coldly, filled with quiet confidence.
"Did you rely on that leather armor to protect you?"
Her tone was calm, as though she had already secured victory.
Torres thought to himself, This isn't good.
He wasn't wrong.
Enkrid was at his limit.
But that was precisely the moment Enkrid had been waiting for.
As Rethsha savored her perceived victory and all eyes, friend and foe alike, focused on the battle, Enkrid made his move.
Switching his grip, he held his sword in his left hand alone, while his right hand reached for something else.
It was a gamble.