CHAPTER 286

Before the words could finish, a sharp spear tip came crashing down from above.

It was a vertical thrust. Rem pushed off the ground. As he quickly dodged to the side, the spear followed as if it had eyes.

It changed direction in mid-air at will.

'A homing weapon?'

There was no time to question it. Rem swung his axe.

With the axe in his right hand, he struck the spear shaft, and with the left axe, he turned it to block the spear tip with its broad side.

Thunk, crack!

It was a half-success, half-failure.

He blocked the spear tip, but his cracked rib had now broken.

On the other hand, he had managed to break the spear shaft, so it was half a success.

'I've been fooled.'

It wasn't a homing weapon. A homing weapon was like a relic that came from the West.

Of course, it was a completely different weapon from what was referred to as relics on this continent.

There was no way a homing weapon would break this easily.

He had deliberately struck it, thinking it was a homing weapon. The plan was to sever the 'connection' with this blow.

A homing weapon necessarily required a connection with its owner.

"Not bad."

The word 'endure' was left unspoken.

A Westerner appeared in Rem's sight.

"What are you?"

Rem asked, bewildered. He could feel it from just that one strike.

'Strong?'

Power, speed, and even the technique aimed at the opponent.

All of it was outstanding.

It was far beyond the level of an ordinary mercenary.

"What are you asking on a battlefield where it's kill or be killed?"

The opponent replied, tapping his shoulder lightly with his unique throwing spear.

His demeanor was full of confidence.

His appearance was distinctive. A leather breastplate covering his chest, leather guards from his shins to his thighs, and similar guards covering his hands up to his shoulders.

It was as if his entire body was covered in leather.

His hair was grayish, with half of his face full of wrinkles, and the other half as smooth as a child's.

It was an unnatural-looking face.

He let go of the spear he had been tapping on his shoulder. Instead of falling to the ground, the spear stopped at his knee level and floated in mid-air.

'What kind of trick is this?'

What was that?

'A technique?'

It wasn't a spell or sorcery. No, it did feel like sorcery, but there was no magical energy coming from the spear itself.

So, it wasn't a homing weapon, yet it floated in mid-air on its own.

Since it wouldn't do any good to show weakness, Rem subtly raised his left arm to cover his side.

Pain followed, but if he couldn't endure this much, he would have died a long time ago.

"Let's do this the easy way."

"Where to? Home? Why? Are you going to give me something?"

Rem, out of habit, moved his mouth while looking for an opening. Every time he was about to throw his axe, the opponent shifted his stance.

Above all, the floating spear was annoying. It floated within a certain radius of the opponent's body, and it wouldn't have been surprising if it suddenly flew at him.

'Where did this thing suddenly come from?'

A moment ago, his rib had been cracked because of three wolf beasts.

Even though it looked like an easy fight, it had been a brutal battle.

The Wolf Bishop of the Cult had been so furious over the loss of his beasts that he had almost exploded.

But the beasts weren't the real problem.

"I'll pull out your tongue."

Swish.

Before the words were finished, the spear came flying at him.

It wasn't his right hand that threw it from the front of his right knee, it was his left hand, which he had subtly moved behind his back.

Rem visualized the spear's trajectory in his mind. He swung his axe.

It was the kind of axe swing that Encrid often described as resembling a ray of light.

Bang!

As a loud crash rang out and one spear was deflected, Rem felt a shock that made his hand tingle.

Immediately after, the floating spear also came flying at him.

Using a non-homing weapon like this?

There was no time to figure out the answer. Rem kept swinging his axe.

Thud, thud, thud, thud!

As the spear blade met the axe blade, red sparks erupted in the air, creating bursts of heat as embers flew.

Whether he had forgotten the cold or not, sweat began to flow down his entire body.

The warmth from the heating stone tucked in his chest pocket started to bother him.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

Even amidst the clash, the spear repeatedly retreated and thrust forward again.

No matter how many times he deflected it, it would return and come flying at him once more.

By the time Rem had blocked the spear about eighty times, he stomped his left foot, shattering a rock embedded in the ground.

With a crack, the shattered pieces flew forward.

A thick chunk of stone came between them.

Thud!

The spear tip pierced through the rock and stopped. This brief moment of restriction on the spear's movement allowed Rem to swing the remaining axe in his right hand, deflecting the spear's trajectory.

Finally, he threw the axe in his left hand.

The axe in his left hand instantly reached the enemy's head.

It seemed like it would split the skull as usual, but the axe stopped in mid-air.

The blade and handle of the axe trembled.

"So that's what you've been using all along."

Rem, who had finally caught on, spoke.

The opponent tilted his head and replied.

"A half-baked one, was it?"

With pale skin that didn't match his white hair, Rem knew who this person was.

In fact, he had already figured it out earlier.

"The madman who chases after immortality, the ageless lunatic, right?"

"Knowing that won't save your life."

The words were accompanied by a soft smile, a smile naturally tinged with eeriness. With such an appearance, it was only natural.

Rem recalled stories he had heard during his time in the tribe, but he pushed them aside.

"Half-baked, poorly trained. How many ribs on the left are broken? Two? Three?"

The opponent asked.

Due to overexertion with his already cracked ribs, two more had broken.

If he hadn't tensed his muscles to hold on, it would have been worse. A slightly worse outcome could have seen the broken bones piercing his lungs or organs, leading to a fatal situation.

Also, he couldn't deny the accusation of being half-baked.

It was true.

Rem had redefined and mastered some of the techniques he had learned from his tribe in his own way.

However, he had given up on learning and receiving the rest of the necessary teachings.

So, he was only half-trained.

"A guy who hasn't properly mastered the art. No inherited spirit either."

Vwoooom.

As the man spoke, he pulled out a small metal orb from his chest.

Around his left arm, the form of a blue beast appeared faintly.

'Ah, witchcraft.'

And powerful witchcraft at that.

His left arm was likely imbued with the strength of a beast, adding to his original physical power.

The simple stone in his hand now felt like an immense threat.

Rem hesitated for just a moment. Whether it was witchcraft or anything else, his ribs were broken, and his left ankle had also taken some strain from blocking those two spear strikes. But he pushed that aside too.

'Should I just kill him?'

If he risked his life and attacked, he could do it.

But, was there really a need for that?

Although he might seem like a reckless warrior who didn't know how to retreat, Rem was a person who lived life on his own terms.

So...

"Hey."

Rem opened his mouth to speak. The ageless lunatic, the bastard who had massacred an entire tribe in the West and stolen all their secrets, responded.

"Why?"

"See you around."

"...What?"

Rem pulled out two fist-sized spheres wrapped in paper from his pocket.

Bang!

As soon as he saw them, the lunatic threw his spear.

Regardless of the incoming spear, the spheres Rem had taken out exploded with a bang.

Gray smoke quickly billowed out, obscuring the view.

Whoosh!

The spear pierced through the smoke but soon only the sound of 'Crash, splinter!' could be heard as it shattered a tree.

"This bastard!"

The ageless barbarian listened carefully. Despite being a skilled hunter, tracking sound alone would be difficult.

A true hunter knows how to hide as well as they know how to chase.

But giving up would be ridiculous.

The ageless lunatic closed and then reopened his eyes.

Soon, his eyes glowed with a blue light.

It was a form of sorcery.

With the power of the spell, the lunatic's eyes could now see through obstacles.

"Run all you want."

The lunatic started moving, following the traces his eyes had detected.

His pace was no slower than Rem's.

* * *

"Is he just out having fun?"

It was a rhetorical question, almost like talking to himself. The entire squad nodded in agreement with Encrid's words.

"He'll come back when it's time. Whatever."

Encrid wasn't worried about Rem. It wasn't because he didn't have the luxury to be concerned right now.

He was Rem, after all.

The same Rem who had earned the nickname 'mad barbarian' and was the reason their company was known as the 'Madmen'.

"He might've just gone back to his old stomping grounds." 

Jaxon remarked idly. It sounded more like wishful thinking.

The two had quite a brotherly relationship.

Now that he was gone, Jaxon spoke about him with a tone of concern.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about."

Encrid said while tending to his sword.

"...Me? Worried?"

Jaxon's tone turned menacing.

One wrong word here, and it felt like he might really stab someone.

"Haha, seems our savage brother is off taking a nap somewhere." 

Audin tried to defuse the tension.

Worry? There was none.

Encrid thought about Rem and figured. 

'He'll come back when it's time.'

That's just how he was.

He'd have his fun and return in due time.

When they got back to the camp, they heard that Krais's operation was a great success.

Sinar had beheaded four of their Commanders, and the Cultists had lost some of their supplies.

"Rem? Maybe he's just out taking a walk or something." 

Krais had said about the gray-haired barbarian's absence.

Even someone who was usually so pessimistic and worried had this to say.

Encrid thought the same—just focus on the task at hand.

And that's what he did.

He kept his eyes on the situation ahead.

"The enemy?"

"As planned."

They were back at Graham's camp.

If the two armies went into full-scale battle, who would win?

"Who else? Aspen, of course."

The onlooker, who had been merely watching, would soon sweep through the entire area.

Therefore, the troops deployed to Green Pearl couldn't be withdrawn.

On the contrary, they were even requesting reinforcements from that direction.

This meant that Aspen's army was positioned in a highly aggressive location.

If things went south, they would pounce without hesitation.

So, this was the only way.

Krais had to disrupt the armies of the Black Blade Bandits and the Cultists with minimal losses.

'No need to kill them all.'

The goal was to break their morale and force them to retreat. Buying time was key. They needed to do this while preserving as much of their own strength as possible.

This was the best strategy for that.

Strike them both before they could fully engage. Then, force them into a full-scale battle.

One decisive battle.

With that battle, the enemy would be forced to retreat and crumble.

They needed to make them collapse and retreat on their own. That was the key.

"First, we break the enemy's prepared weapon. This must be done by Commander Encrid."

Krais had spent days thinking about what he would do if he were the Commander of the Black Blade or the Cultists.

This was the answer he arrived at.

They were aware of the Madmen Platoon. Even if they didn't know their exact strength, they would have prepared a trump card.

If they faced that without any preparation, the damage would be severe.

'We have to lure them into a full-scale battle.'

With their supplies damaged and their Commanders lost, the two units would regroup.

They would also realize that this wasn't going to be a prolonged fight.

And with Encrid's presence...

'That alone would be enough to draw them out.'

"Second, Viscount Tarnin must die."

To sever their justification.

"Third, we must head to Green Pearl immediately after the battle."

It meant they had to finish before Aspen could make a move.

"If things go south, we'll all be buried here." 

Graham said.

Krais nodded slightly, though he had no intention of being buried here himself. 

Nevertheless, it was true that many would have to fight with their lives on the line.

As Krais had intended, the Cultists, having lost part of their supplies, joined forces with the main force of the Black Blade instead of requisitioning from nearby villages.

The combined armies of the Black Blade and the Cultists began advancing towards the broad plains.

The Border Guard Reserve Unit moved forward, leaving the walls behind.

Holding a defensive position would be like inviting Aspen to strike their exposed back with glee.

They had no choice but to advance.

A cold wind blew, carrying dust between the two forces.

Under the dark sky and over the frozen, barren ground, the two armies faced each other.

"We must win."

The Madmen Platoon was clustered near the center of the battlefield.

Krais had also come out. If the battle went poorly, he needed to be close to Encrid to escape.

Encrid understood his intentions but let it slide.

He figured it was a reasonable course of action.

'We must win.'

Encrid mulled over Krais's words. He thought that winning didn't necessarily mean it had to be him.

In the end, all he needed to do was show them how to win the battle.

A few thoughts flashed through his mind, but he didn't say anything to Krais.

From now on, it was the time for those who wielded swords.

Just as he was about to step forward—

Thud-thud-thud! Thud-thud-thud!

The enemy had arrived. Someone rode out on horseback and threw something towards the center of the two armies.

It was just outside the range of their arrows.

"What's that?"

Vengeance frowned as he muttered to himself.

"Pick it up."

He quickly gave the order.

One of the scouts rode out on horseback and retrieved the object.

It was soon in Encrid's hands.

The weapon was familiar. As he examined the recovered axe, Ragna spoke.

"It's the barbarian's relic."

"Hmm, we'll make a grave and bury it. You can bury it with him then."

Ragna and Jaxon each made a remark.

They were strangely in sync at times like this.

Several soldiers recognized the axe, and among them were those who noticed Rem's absence.

Some of the troops began to murmur.

"What's going on? Did Captain Rem die?"

"No, didn't he just burn down the Cultists' camp a few days ago…?"

"He didn't return after that."

"Maybe he's on another mission?"

"What could be more urgent than this?"

Encrid let the voices around him drift through one ear and out the other as he examined the axe.

The blade was heavily chipped, and there were many deep, ugly marks on it.

It was clear that it had seen rough combat.

"Looks like he went off to have some fun."

Encrid said.

"We might as well consider him dead."

This time it was Dunbachel who muttered. They were all quite sincere individuals.

Their tone was so genuine that it was almost palpable.

Encrid listened with one ear while keeping an eye on the enemy.

On one side, there was a pack of wolf beasts, and on the other, human troops.

These were the allied forces of the Black Blade Bandits and the Cultists.

Among them, Viscount Tarnin, awkwardly clad in chainmail, stepped forward and shouted.

"I shall personally cut off the heads of these traitors and present them to the King! Strike down the rebels who dared to plot treason!"

He raised his sword high as he spoke.

His voice was loud, quite loud. It even spread widely, likely with the help of a magical device.

But no one moved.

"That idiot."

Krais cursed the pig, who was good for nothing but rhetoric.