CHAPTER 284

Several small-scale skirmishes subtly altered the atmosphere of the battlefield.

'Are they going to fight or not?'

This was what the Black Blade and the Cultist army wanted to ask.

They had expected fierce battles, but the momentum deflated quickly. It had been like this dozens of times.

However, attacking outright was also not an option.

"The Lord of the Demon Realm has commanded us not to trust thieves."

It seemed like the Black Blade was scheming something from behind. The Viscount's army of Tarnin was no different.

"Don't strike first. Just hold the line."

"Are they attacking again today? Don't they ever get tired?"

Laikanos remarked as Tarnin stuffed a piece of jerky between two pieces of bread.

He was a guy who never stopped eating.

The previous tension had vanished.

The Border Guard Reserve Unit had been acting so strangely that it naturally eased the tension.

Of course, Laikanos was different.

'What's going on?'

He couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but his instincts, honed by years on the battlefield, were telling him something was off.

It was an ominous feeling—one that was very, very strong.

Beside him, the pig-like Viscount was spouting nonsense again.

Something about how they should just charge and wipe them out, claiming they had far superior numbers.

"Shut your mouth."

Laikanos was not the kind of fool to ignore his instincts.

The Viscount squawked something in response, but Laikanos ignored him.

"Prepare for defense."

Laikanos had to stick with the same strategy.

He had no choice. Neither the Cultists nor the Aspen troops could be trusted.

Get backstabbed?

'That would tarnish the name of the Black Blade Bandits.'

The group he belonged to was destined to become the continent's greatest band of thieves.

Such a group couldn't afford to get involved in something that was obviously a trap.

So, as the clouds parted, revealing a clear sunny day in the middle of winter, a new day on the battlefield began.

"The pain that kills me is right before me!"

"Kill the pain!"

Bell thought that the slogans were getting weirder, but before he knew it, he was contributing to the oddity.

"The pain that kills!"

The slogans had become more bizarre, but that wasn't the only thing that had changed.

The soldiers' movements had changed.

There was no longer any need to mix in half-orders, half-insults as before.

It was natural.

These soldiers had already been trained. They were the ones who had been tormented and beaten by the Madmen Platoon.

Those who hadn't even undergone basic training weren't included in the unit.

This was also Krais's idea.

'Especially since we're already short on troops.'

Bell thought it was a refreshing load of nonsense. He wanted to say that the real battlefield wasn't like that.

Of course, in the end, he didn't say a word.

"Do it like that."

Encrid was behind it, and Graham had approved.

"The point is this: If they lack experience, make them gain it. If they have weaknesses, eliminate them. That's what this is for."

If untrained soldiers are mixed in, the entire force is weakened.

So, they gather only those who have been toughened through training. They are hammered into shape like iron by the hammer of real combat.

The theory that came from Krais's mind had become a reality, embodied by people like Bell.

Soldiers, and more soldiers, who had come out of hellish training and had been tempered by the hammer of real battles.

"The flower of the battlefield is!"

"The infantry!"

"The flower of pain!"

"The damn pleasure!"

The corrupted chant, the heat, the cheers, and something boiling up inside burned their chests.

"Kill them all!"

Bell shouted.

If in previous battles they took one step forward, in this battle they were told to take two.

It seemed they were now boldly initiating the fight instead of just probing.

Bell was at the forefront.

He could see the eyes of the approaching Black Blade mercenary. Through the gap in his iron helmet, those eyes glared at Bell with murderous intent.

The mercenary swung a large sword above his head.

The heavy, powerful strike came down from above. Bell didn't react.

If things continued like this, he'd be dead for sure.

Instead of blocking, Bell planted his left foot on the ground, twisted his waist back, and put all his strength into his arms.

His muscles bulged as he focused and applied more force. He thrust his spear forward.

It was a strike he had crafted over several days. A thrust delivered by twisting his entire body.

Is this guy insane? The mercenary, though startled, still swung his sword down with full force.

Was he trying to get them both killed?

The mercenary thought he would slash Bell first and then dodge the weakened spear.

But the sword failed to fulfill its mission.

Two soldiers, who had approached unnoticed, covered Bell's head with thick round shields.

Bang!

The blade struck the shield.

And then, a blow that no ordinary gambeson, leather, or chainmail could block, exploded against the mercenary's torso.

Crack!

The well-sharpened spearhead pierced through the gambeson and leather, puncturing the mercenary's stomach.

The spear shaft stuck out from the middle of his torso like a grim decoration.

"Sh...it, you crazy bastard."

The enemy soldier spat blood from his mouth as he spoke.

He dropped his sword, clutched the spear shaft that impaled him, staggered, and fell backward.

Crrrrk, the spearhead scraping the ground as the mercenary's body tilted and collapsed to the side.

He died sitting at an angle.

"That's called strategy, you dumb monkey."

Bell said, letting go of the spear.

Pulling it out would take more effort. He retreated and grabbed a new spear.

They worked in threes.

One would pierce the enemy, and the other two would block and hold the line.

"A spearman is paired with two soldiers who can handle shields."

This was an improvised tactic at the squad level or below.

Just because it was improvised didn't mean it couldn't be executed. The bulk of the training they had endured, sweating blood and grinding their bodies like golems, was aimed at enhancing individual physical abilities.

It wasn't a complicated tactic.

In the first large-scale battle they had adapted to after more than ten days, the Border Guard Reserve Unit and the Viscount's army of Tarnin effectively pushed the enemy back.

"Slash them! Smash them with shields! Bash them with maces!"

"Archers! Are you just going to watch?"

It was a battle that had been fought infantry against infantry until now. The enemy was the first to deploy archers.

"Dammit, kill them."

And that was what the Vengeance Archers had been waiting for.

A platoon of swift and sharp-eyed soldiers quickly nocked arrows and released their angry volleys.

Thud thud thud thud!

Fifty longbows unleashed.

A rain of arrows poured down on the enemy's flanks.

"Fall back! Fall back, I said!"

Bell suddenly stopped fighting and shouted. The Border Guard Reserve Unit quickly retreated.

If someone had been watching this, they would have been truly impressed.

The number of troops on both sides wasn't significantly different.

The Reserve Unit barely numbered over a thousand.

The Viscount's army of Tarnin had grown to over 2,500.

Troops had gathered from somewhere, crowding together.

Of course, not the entire army was engaged in the fight.

Both sides had deployed only an appropriate number of troops.

The Border Guard Reserve Unit committed about 250 soldiers, while the opposing Viscount's army deployed nearly 400.

There was a numerical difference, and the Viscount's army of Tarnin also had several exceptional mercenaries in their ranks.

The soldiers fought with the determination of men prepared to die, as the enforcers held swords menacingly behind them.

Even so, the outcome was clear.

"A trained army will defeat individuals."

On the hill, Krais murmured to himself.

Finn, who was tasked with guarding him, replied.

"What nonsense is that?"

It wasn't something she understood.

"It's just how it is."

"If only I were assigned to the Commander. What's the point of being a guard?"

Finn grumbled.

At the same time, Encrid was also carrying out his task.

"This way."

As Jaxon spoke while trudging along, Encrid opened his mouth.

"Ragna?"

"Why are you calling me?"

It was good to have him here. Having Ragna meant everything was in place.

Teresa, who had her face covered by a helmet, caught his eye.

Is she okay?

She was told she could back out, but she refused.

"I am Teresa the Wanderer, and my sword and shield go where they must."

Jaxon led the Madmen Platoon without bothering to conceal themselves.

There was no need to.

With a large-scale battle taking place, everyone's attention was focused on that.

As they advanced, they killed every scout they encountered.

Without eyes to see, there would be no tongues to report.

While the Black Blade Bandits and the Reserve Unit were engaged in a bloody fight, Encrid's platoon reached the area where the Cultist troops were stationed.

"I thought I'd die of boredom."

Rem said, his eyes glinting. It was as if he had some kind of condition where he grew restless if he didn't behead someone every three days.

"Let's go."

Encrid said as he approached the roughly constructed wooden barricade.

As they moved closer, a growling sound was heard. A foul stench hit their noses.

Their gazes turned. They saw yellow eyes.

A wolf beast, standing on four legs and baring its fangs.

Grrrrr!

The moment they made eye contact, the beast growled and charged, kicking off the ground with a thud.

The wolf, moving like a streak, bared its fangs as it lunged from the front.

It appeared from the left, where Dunbachel was positioned.

As the wolf beast hit the ground, there was a sharp metallic sound—ting!—from the clash.

The wolf beast had encountered a silver line in the air.

Of course, it was Dunbachel's doing.

The scimitar she had drawn from her waist traced a crescent arc.

The silver blade sliced diagonally from the beast's right shoulder to the underside of its left leg.

With a splattering sound, blood and entrails poured onto the ground as the beast's body, now split in two, twitched and collapsed.

Blood splattered everywhere.

"Kill them cleanly."

Rem commented as he watched. Dunbachel flicked the scimitar in the air, causing blood to splatter onto the ground. Then she spoke.

"This is clean enough."

"You don't know anything."

Rem scoffed.

Grrrrr!

No sooner had Rem finished speaking than more yellow eyes appeared all around them.

It wasn't nighttime, it was broad daylight when they had swept through the scouts and charged in all at once.

The stench was overwhelming, almost numbing their sense of smell. There was already a foul smell everywhere, like manure, making their noses ache.

The Cultist army hadn't anticipated the Madmen Platoon's movements.

This was a strike that no one had expected, something that made one think, 'Surely they wouldn't come here?'

So the fact that a pack of wolf beasts was rushing out wasn't due to a prediction.

It was simply that the wolf beasts were guarding the barricade.

The Cultists' camp was nestled between uneven hills, and the surrounding terrain was far from flat.

It was a small, rugged area with plenty of places to hide.

A pack of wolves began to appear one by one among the hills. Yellow eyes popped up from here and there. Beasts tainted by demonic energy bared their fangs from all directions.

Grrr!

Rem raised his two axes horizontally, level with the ground.

"Watch, this is what I call clean."

And then he kicked off the ground and leaped.

There was no time to speak. His charge was half a beat faster than the wolf beasts could react.

He quickly closed the distance and suddenly appeared right in front of the nearest beast.

He charged and slashed. His arms, holding the axes, seemed to blur as he swung, and the wolf's head flew into the air with a thunk. Soon after, several more heads floated in the air.

Rem did what he always did.

He simply hacked, slashed, and chopped anything in his path.

"Where's the cleanliness in that?"

Dunbachel commented as she watched, and Encrid agreed with her.

It wasn't clean at all. But it was destructive.

"Quite exhilarating, brother."

Audin murmured. And that summed it up perfectly.

The wolf beasts were diligently performing their guard duty, but they were swiftly cut down.

Encrid adjusted his sword belt as he observed the Cultists appearing beyond the barricade.

Minor preparations—no matter the opponent or the battle—were essential for doing one's best.

He adjusted his sword belt.

"Attack!"

Seeing the enemy soldier shouting, he prepared to draw his sword.

Anyone could see that he was in a position to draw his sword and charge in at a moment's notice.

Some of the enemy soldiers, seeing this, raised their crossbows.

"The Lord of the Demon Realm watches over us!"

With a fanatical cry, the Cultists aimed and loaded their crossbows.

In what seemed like the motion of drawing his sword, Encrid suddenly threw both hands to the sides.

It seemed like a random movement, but the result was far from that.

Fweeee!

A whistle's sharp sound tore through the air, and the throats of the four soldiers with crossbows.

They were Whistling Knives.

"Argh!"

One of the soldiers clutched his throat and collapsed. A newly opened gash in his neck, big enough to be seen from the outside, gushed blood instead of air.

All four of the Cultist soldiers with crossbows had their heads meet the ground.

"Well done deceiving them."

Jaxon muttered from behind.

It was hard to tell whether he was impressed or mocking.

Encrid didn't pay any attention.

Pretending to draw his sword while throwing Whistling Daggers—it was an excellent tactic.

Adjusting his sword belt and assuming the stance had all been in preparation for this move.

Even the stance was part of the preparation. Deceiving the opponent was also part of the preparation.

Awooooo!

A chilling wolf's howl echoed from deep within the Cultists' camp.

It was a cry imbued with a power that momentarily paralyzed the body.

"Let's stop that dog from barking."

Rem, drenched in the black blood of the beast, remarked after hearing it.

He grinned, his front teeth gleaming white in contrast to the black blood and his axes, creating a frighteningly ominous image.

No one here froze in fear from just a howl.

Even Dunbachel merely grumbled.

"Just lopping off heads doesn't make it clean."

"O-Oh, oh, oh, Lord of the Demon Realm."

One of the fanatics, upon seeing this, trembled, his jaw quivering.

"Huh? What was that? I can't hear the words of those who worship a stupid God."

Rem said, placing his hand to his ear while holding his axe.

Afterward, he only became more excited, rampaging with even greater fervor.

From the enemy's perspective, he had gone completely berserk.

Encrid and his group also took care of their tasks.

Jaxon set fire to the tents and supplies, while Ragna deftly sliced down the enemies who charged at Encrid from behind.

Teresa and Dunbachel also charged to the left and right, smashing the heads of both beasts and humans alike.

There was no need to prolong the chaos.

After confirming the rising black smoke, Encrid gave the signal.

He threw the Whistling Dagger into the sky.

Fweeeeee!

At the long, piercing whistle, the entire platoon began to retreat. The plan from the start was to strike hard and then withdraw quickly.

While the enemy Commander was busy protecting himself by adding more guards, they had set the supplies on fire and fled.

It was a simple but effective strategy.

"Rem!"

Encrid called out as he retreated.

"Go on ahead!"

Rem hadn't followed, so Encrid shouted to him, and this was the response he received.

Was he too caught up in the excitement?

That was part of the reason, and the other part was that someone needed to hold the line.

Four more beasts, each twice as large as the others, were already charging at them.

Someone had to either cut them down or hold them off.

"Let's hope he dies in the process."

Jaxon made a remark that he didn't mean.

"Or I could stay behind."

Ragna suggested something unacceptable.

If Ragna stayed behind, he might not make it back before winter ended.

Encrid wasn't worried about Rem.

After all, he was Rem. There was no doubt he could handle getting himself out of there.

"I'm going ahead."

Encrid said.