Chapter 147 - If one had confidence in the path they walked
"Where are they?"
The independent unit of the Aspen Principality, which included three semi knights, found no trace of the enemy.
Shouldn't there be a rear guard stationed around here?
Or at least some kind of trace left behind?
They were supposed to be heading to Cross Guard, right?
So why were they nowhere to be found?
There weren't even reconnaissance units checking this side's movements.
Normally, before a battle fully breaks out, scouts from both sides would run into each other, exchange some curses, maybe fire a few arrows, and then engage.
You had to meet the enemy to fight them, and that's why they had pulled part of their forces here.
They even brought three semi knights.
That meant they had redirected part of the knight order.
Even though a few giants and special forces had been left with the main army, the independent unit was still a significant detachment from the main force.
That meant they were supposed to fight. They had to fight.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Small pebbles scattered under the commander's boots.
There was nothing.
The only things they had seen along the way were a few ghouls crawling out from the riverside and some old campsite traces from three days ago.
"What about the Hawk Unit?"
"Contact has been lost."
Even the guerrilla unit that was supposed to monitor the area and join them had vanished.
"They're probably dead, right?"
One semi knight and commander asked.
His adjutant hesitated before responding.
"Yes... It seems so."
What did he mean by 'seems so'?
They were all dead.
The commander considered his options.
Should he strike at the rear now?
What would happen then?
Would they flail about like a horse with its tail on fire?
He suddenly became curious about Naurilia's reaction.
Just as he made up his mind—
"A signal fire has been lit!"
A sharp-eyed messenger rushed over, having just crossed a mountain ridge.
The commander turned to look back—toward the direction of the main force.
Signal fires were only lit when the main army was in danger.
And now, one had been set off.
"We're heading back."
The commander did not hesitate.
That decision saved them.
Because they returned immediately, they avoided total annihilation.
***
After joining Marcus's infantry unit, Enkrid spoke less and less.
The soldiers sneaked glances at the so-called 'Madmen Unit,' but no one dared to speak to them easily.
"You're here?"
Only Vengeance spoke casually, throwing out a blunt greeting.
Enkrid gave a slight nod and kept walking.
As he walked, he thought.
As he thought, he sank deeper into himself, replaying the battle in his mind.
'I couldn't use the Sense of Evasion.'
It took too much preparation to fully draw out the Heart of the Beast.
He had fought by piecing together everything he had.
'Plant the left hand in the opponent's head, then cut with the right.'
The foundation of his technique had been 'preemptive display' and the Heart of the Beast.
The fight had brought him exhilaration.
Some aspects of wielding dual swords had worked.
So what came next?
Review.
He replayed the fight.
Just because he had won didn't mean there was nothing to learn.
Far from it—there was always something to learn.
Crunch.
Crunch.
The unit crossed a rocky field and moved toward the rear of the main force.
The march continued.
For three days, they ate, walked, and slept in repetition.
Only then did they arrive at their original encampment.
Of course, to Enkrid, whether they reached the encampment or not was irrelevant.
He was too busy reviewing and reviewing again.
He neither saw nor heard what was happening around him.
'Fundamentals.'
What about the mustached man's swordsmanship?
It was precise, sharp, and refined.
It was both heavy and swift.
He adapted just the right amount at the right moments.
It was a matter of fundamentals.
Was winning or losing the issue?
Of course, that mattered.
If he had lost, he would have died.
Deliberately losing a fight that could be won was meaningless.
Always give your best.
Take even half a step with certainty.
For a better today than yesterday.
Victory didn't erase his thirst or longing.
Did he think mastering the fundamentals once was enough?
'Was I being arrogant?'
Life had a way of humbling him.
Looking back on the past, when all he could do was struggle desperately, he couldn't even imagine thinking like this.
Enkrid reflected.
Sharpening the fundamentals was the most basic duty.
Hadn't training the Isolation Technique proven that?
It required daily repetition.
The same movements repeated endlessly.
Whether it was Valaf-style martial arts, heavy sword techniques, or light sword techniques—
Steady and smooth motions, no matter the style, all relied on the basics.
The moment that thought struck him, he couldn't hold back anymore.
His hands itched.
His heart pounded.
His skin tingled.
Even in the middle of the march—
Sching.
He drew his sword.
Then, with a perfectly straight and precise motion, he executed a downward cut—
A flawless, masterful strike.
Like the mustached man's technique, it was a vertical cut aimed at the crown of the head.
Swoosh.
Right in the middle of the march, he suddenly swung his sword.
Someone should have said something.
But this was Enkrid.
"...What the hell? An ambush?"
"Oh, it's just Platoon leader Enkrid?"
"That guy's a bit... you know."
One soldier twirled his finger beside his head, making a spinning motion.
"The Madmen Unit commander, right?"
"Yeah. Just ignore it and keep walking."
No one made a fuss.
This wasn't anything new.
More than that, there wasn't a single person unaware of the Madmen Unit's achievements in the previous battlefield.
They were already half-heroes.
Among the gazes directed at them, there was even a touch of admiration.
'It's because they're so obsessed with training.'
Was that why they fought so well?
Such thoughts lingered in the minds of the soldiers.
Even the squad leader-level officers left them alone.
Perhaps there were special instructions from Battalion Commander Marcus.
It was clear to anyone that they were receiving special treatment.
Exempt from all duties, excused from kitchen duty.
All sorts of reasons justified it.
No one made a fuss over it.
The Madmen Unit didn't particularly care about how others looked at them either.
Ragna, watching his squad leader suddenly swing his sword, thought to himself.
There was something he had planned to say once they got back, but now, it no longer seemed necessary.
"Return to the fundamentals."
He had demonstrated a cut, but the actual teaching had yet to begin.
There were things that needed to be built up for that.
Things that needed to be said again.
Would this become a wall of despair?
Or a new milestone?
He had to show him.
Teach him.
There was much to say—things people tended to forget as they grew stronger.
He wanted to remind him of those things.
Ragna contemplated deeply.
What did his squad leader need right now?
After much deliberation, he organized his thoughts.
Clatter.
The gravel path was coming to an end.
Ragna stopped walking.
"Yes, that's right."
And he muttered to himself.
His squad leader didn't need nagging.
He would reflect on his own and fill in the gaps.
He had always been that kind of person.
Standing still, Ragna felt a tingling sensation surge through his entire body.
The things he had long forgotten, overlooked, things that didn't even need to be recalled—
His squad leader piled up each and every one of those things.
Used them as a foundation.
A sudden flame of motivation flared up in Ragna's chest.
It was ridiculous.
But watching his squad leader made him want to swing his sword.
"Have you lost your mind? What's right?"
It was Rem, the crazy barbarian walking beside him, tilting his head.
"Haha, were you offering a prayer, lazy brother? Did the Lord answer you?"
On the other side, the burly religious man also chimed in.
Ragna didn't want to respond.
He didn't want to ruin this good mood.
But Rem was persistent.
And Audin was diligent.
"Hey, what's right? Did a ghost crawl into your head? Hey, big guy, shouldn't we exorcise this guy? Huh? Don't you have some kind of holy punch for ghosts?"
"Haha, Brother, possessions don't happen that easily. Especially in a disciplined unit like this. From what I see, you were deep in prayer. So, what did the Lord say?"
If only they would shut up.
Ragna was starting to feel desperate.
And desperation quickly turned into killing intent.
'Should I just cut them all down?'
The sudden burst of murderous intent made both Rem and Audin react simultaneously.
"Hey, are you planning to leave your head here? Want some help?"
"Brother, are you upset because you didn't receive an answer from the Lord? Then sweating it out isn't a bad option."
When killing intent flared, a fight followed—that was an unspoken rule within the Madmen Unit.
Of course, if Enkrid intervened, it would stop, but right now, he was lost in his own world.
Clang.
Ragna drew his sword and swung it.
Rem responded instantly.
Boom!
Axe and sword clashed, sparks flying.
The killing intent between Ragna and Rem ignited further.
Audin, watching from the side, couldn't just stand still either.
Ragna didn't let him.
Using the rebound from striking Rem's axe, he slashed at Audin's chest.
Audin backstepped, deflecting the blade with his palm.
A feat of skill.
A high-level one at that.
Rem, Ragna, and Audin—
For them, such things were so natural it was almost ridiculous.
Before long, the three clashed together.
Watching from the side, Jaxen thought they were all idiots.
His eyes drifted away from them and toward his squad leader.
He had a slight, very slight complaint.
He understood how to develop the Sense of Evasion now, but was improving body coordination really that difficult?
It wasn't easy, no, it was truly difficult.
But wasn't this a bit unfair?
He mastered Heart of the Beast so quickly, but why was Sense of Evasion progressing so slowly?
Was he not focusing as much?
Was he putting less effort into his technique?
"…That's annoying."
Jaxen muttered to himself, but no one answered.
The three were too busy fighting.
Andrew and Mac, not wanting to get caught up, slipped away.
Finn, on the other hand, was preoccupied with wondering if this squad was actually functioning properly.
Only Krais was unbothered, simply doing what needed to be done.
Instead of the squad leader, he received orders from the fairy company commander.
"Why you?"
The company commander, clearly displeased, asked.
"If you interfere now, both the squad leader and the unit will be annoyed. And then everything turns into a mess."
"More than it already is?"
Enkrid was walking, swinging his sword alone.
The other three were busy fighting.
Jaxen wore a stiff, unreadable expression.
Judging by pure instinct, disturbing him now didn't seem like a good idea.
Well, this was already enough of a mess, but…
"Yes, even more."
Krais answered with certainty.
Stopping them would make things even worse.
That much, he knew from experience.
"…I see. The main unit is returning."
The company commander didn't crack meaningless jokes or waste words on unnecessary chatter.
She got straight to the point.
Krais, feeling playful for no particular reason, asked,
"You want our squad leader, don't you?"
The company commander looked at Krais.
The Fairy's green eyes were like gemstones that completed his otherworldly beauty.
Because they were gem-like, they were inorganic.
Krais couldn't read any emotions in them.
But he could sense something.
"I do."
She wasn't saying it in a way a woman would covet a man.
With that, the company commander turned and left.
A sudden chill ran down Krais's spine, and he rubbed his arms.
Then, he waited for his squad leader to return to normal.
It was nearly an entire day later—just when they stopped to set up camp—that Enkrid finally halted.
Would swinging a sword while walking actually help?
Krais had no idea.
The fight among the three, including Rem, had ended sooner than expected.
Did they all realize that it wasn't truly over yet?
Or was it simply boring since the squad leader wasn't stopping them?
That was anyone's guess.
And Krais wasn't particularly interested in knowing.
"Captain."
Sweat poured down Enkrid's face as his gaze shifted to Krais.
"We've been ordered to return to the city."
"Hm?"
Krais knew his captain wasn't one for long explanations.
Though he was itching to elaborate, there was no point.
Now was the time to keep things short and clear.
"When our plan worked—when the enemy diverted part of their forces through the detour—the main force launched an assault."
What was the essence of Krais's original strategy?
The Madmen Squad would strike from behind.
Then, they would lure in that unit—the one called Hawk Talon or something like that—and wipe them out.
Meanwhile, the Marcus Battalion would pretend to head toward Cross Guard.
Just the act of pretending was enough.
'A battlefield already lost.'
If he were the enemy commander, what would he think?
Would he want to retreat while carrying the humiliation of having his city attacked?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Either way, there was no real downside.
Just by feigning movement, the Marcus Battalion had a good excuse to return to their original position.
Creating distance from the enemy was always a win.
As time passed, the variables decreased, and everything fell into place just as Krais had anticipated.
Of course, some things didn't go exactly as he had expected.
For one, the combat prowess of the Madmen Squad.
'I knew they were good, but…'
Wasn't this insanely good?
As an independent unit, a small elite force, they were even be more formidable than those frontier slaughterers.
It was not even close.
After that, they regrouped with the Marcus Battalion.
Meanwhile, some of the forces stationed at Green Pearl Plains—including the knight order—had continued their advance.
This was slightly beyond Krais's expectations.
'They actually pushed forward?'
Even as things stood, they had expanded their territory and dealt a severe blow to Aspen.
But instead of stopping, they pressed the attack, securing a decisive advantage.
A relentless charge followed by close-quarters combat.
The power gap had widened significantly.
It was an overwhelming victory.
As a result, the Marcus Battalion and the Border Guard's standing army were ordered to return to the city.
Some enemy forces might go mad and attempt a desperate attack, so a defense force was necessary.
And, since they had achieved great merit, a reward was likely in order.
Rather than explain all this, Krais summed it up concisely.
"We're going home."
"Not bad."
Had Enkrid grasped all of that?
Who knew?
He could explain it slowly later.
For now, knowing they could return was enough.
Krais was quite satisfied with that.
Above all, the map tucked inside his coat made him feel even warmer.
One of the treasures hidden by the enemy—Krais knew instinctively.
'This one's real.'
Enkrid had no complaints about returning either.
In fact, he was pleased.
He had learned and absorbed so much from this battlefield and the battles fought.
Now, he needed time to reflect and carve those lessons into his body.
A slow learner had to struggle and push forward.
So, that's exactly what Enkrid would do.
A thirst and hunger burned within him.
It set his heart ablaze, making it impossible to stay still.
'But what's with him?'
Enkrid turned toward the occasional killing intent he felt.
It was Jaxen.
Every time he was about to forget about it, another piercing glare came his way.
Jaxen looked dissatisfied, but judging by his face, he wasn't going to explain even if asked.
So what could Enkrid do?
Just leave him be. It wasn't like these guys' complaints were anything new.
"We're heading back? Aw, that's a shame. You sad we didn't get to see knights fight?"
Rem's teasing tone rang out, and Enkrid nodded.
"I am a little disappointed."
But, on the other hand, he didn't mind.
Step.
Matching his stride, Enkrid glanced down at his hands.
Palms rough with calluses.
The weight of two swords strapped to his waist.
The armor covering his body.
Nyah.
The panther and his squadmates walked beside him.
And Enkrid himself was walking too.
If one had confidence in the path they walked…
There was no need to confirm the destination.
"This is fine."
Enkrid muttered, lifting his head.
The magic of spring spread through the air, and gentle sunlight settled on his shoulders.