CHAPTER 288

As Jaxon grabbed Encrid, a foreboding sense of intuition kicked in.

'These crazy bastards.'

The moment the bandit Laikanos retreated, a group of others filled the gap and charged at them.

Their movements were well-trained, clearly a pre-arranged attack for such a situation.

The sound of blades cutting through the air was the first thing Jaxon heard.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Dressed in black, the assailants, who had been lying in wait, thrust their spear-like swords forward.

Each one was a reckless, full-bodied charge, and they were all incredibly fast.

Their thrusts were aimed at piercing a single point.

A heavy and swift strike, an attack where they seemingly burned their lives for a single blow.

Jaxon, pulling Encrid closer with his left hand, swung his sword with his right.

At the same time, he made the coldest judgment he had ever made.

'I can't block them all.'

Jaxon's sword moved as if it were dancing. It was reminiscent of a butterfly's fluttering wings.

The sword tip weaved through the barrage of descending blades like a butterfly in flight.

As the butterfly's wings collided with the blades, they caused irregular movements. Each impact deflected the trajectory of most of the blades.

Clang, clang, clang, clang!

He couldn't deflect all of them. He missed two strikes.

One of those missed strikes grazed Encrid's left shin.

To be more precise, Encrid had twisted his body to avoid it.

The fabric and leather of his protective gear tore and fluttered.

The last strike hit Encrid's waist.

It made a dull sound, but the blade didn't pierce his body and was deflected.

'Armor.'

It was the power of the armor he had acquired earlier. Jaxon had seen the Captain wrap it around him like bandages before.

Jaxon tightened his grip on Encrid with his left arm. He intended to throw Encrid backward and cut down the remaining attackers.

But just as he was about to throw Encrid, the assailants scattered.

'Damn.'

Fighting while protecting someone wasn't Jaxon's specialty.

He was used to fighting with enemies at his back, not while protecting an ally. He had little experience in that, and it was because of this inexperience.

'A mistake.'

He should have taken the damage and kept Encrid behind him, or moved him far enough away that the enemy couldn't reach him, but he had missed the timing.

The men in black jumped overhead, attacked from below, and charged in from both sides.

Their attacks were terrifyingly relentless.

Distracted by the enemies behind him—

"I'm fine."

Encrid's voice reached him. Though his right arm was injured and he was tired, he wasn't close to death yet.

But the problem was—

'These crazy bastards are really…'

The black-clad assault unit was throwing themselves at them, not caring for their own lives.

Jaxon couldn't easily dismiss these men who wore thin, flexible leather instead of armor.

Wherever they learned it, their precision in aiming for a single point was impressive.

Jaxon kept swinging his sword, constantly moving his feet.

Slice, stab, thud.

The blade cut through a forearm, and a thigh was pierced. Jaxon's sword played its role as an emotionless piece of steel, but the attackers twisted their bodies and continued their assault as long as they were still alive.

They seemed like a mad group, stripped of their humanity, focused solely on piercing their opponent with a fast sword.

When Jaxon sidestepped to avoid them, a sword flew toward where he had just been standing. He had avoided it by sensing the danger a split second earlier. The blade sank into the cold ground.

Thud!

The attacker, who had driven his sword into the ground and looked up, had a ghostly look in his eyes.

Of course, none of that mattered to Jaxon, so he simply embedded a knife into the forehead of the one who had missed his strike.

The ordinary knife, which flew with a whoosh, became the grim reaper and took another life.

Jaxon continued to gradually reduce their numbers, even though fighting openly wasn't his specialty.

Encrid, observing Jaxon's battle, refocused on the enemies coming at him.

'This isn't good.'

His right arm had been injured by Laikanos, and his shin had been grazed in the recent strike, but the injury was far more severe than a mere scratch.

The leather of his guard was cleanly cut, leaving clear marks on both his skin and some of his muscles.

The blow aimed at his torso had been stopped by his armor, but the impact remained.

His internal organs shook. His abdominal muscles had absorbed the shock, and this was the result. If it had been an ordinary person, their organs would have ruptured.

To make matters worse, Laikanos' final strike had rendered his right arm nearly useless.

He could only move his left arm now.

Encrid did what he could.

He sheathed the gladius and took up his original sword in his left hand, swinging it.

He minimized his leg movements and held the sword with a fluid grip.

It was the Fluid Sword Technique.

He parried and deflected the attacks. His breathing was steady. His stamina was monstrous, unmatched by anyone.

Clang, clang, clang, clang!

After deflecting three or four blades in a split second, the next blade was suddenly right in front of him. It was a blade sharpened to a piercing shine.

'I can't block this one.'

The Heart of the Beast awakened, and the Focus Point ignited his brain.

Even if he did his best, he knew he would lose an eye.

His opponent's skills were superior.

The moment they failed to kill the main force, Laikanos had prepared this platoon of swordsmen.

This was the result.

He could clearly see the future where he lost an eye. While he couldn't avoid it, he could at least question and answer himself.

Lose an eye? So what if that happens?

Losing one eye wouldn't change anything.

Encrid turned his head. He tried to twist and avoid the attack.

In his mind, the option of dying here and starting over didn't exist.

If he were the kind of person who would throw away his life and give up over something like this, he would have stopped and been weeded out long ago in the endless repetition of today.

The moment the sword tip enlarged and appeared like a thick club—

Thud!

With a crisp noise, the club that had been blocking his vision disappeared.

The owner of the sword who had been aiming at him was sent flying through the air. Naturally, the sword followed.

"Aaaargh!"

Screaming, he flew. And he flew well. In that moment, he might not have envied a bird.

Of course, his flight was short-lived, and its end was anything but graceful.

The flying man crashed among the Border Guard Reserve Unit, and, startled by the sudden arrival of a body, a soldier thrust his spear, skewering the man in mid-air, killing him.

Encrid, in his effort to block, endure, and not die, ended up falling backward. He landed hard on his rear.

As he looked to his side, he saw a wild horse that had just sent a man flying with a kick from its hind legs.

Neigh!

"Odd-Eyes?"

Neigh!

The horse seemed to protest the name, but in this moment, the hastily given name didn't even register in his mind.

Growl.

And before he knew it, Esther had appeared beside him.

She hadn't transformed into a human, still in the form of a Lake Panther.

The silk-like black fur that covered her body reminded him of her hair when she was human.

Meanwhile, beside the black-clad stabbing platoon, another figure appeared—a man who could survive any situation as long as he had his sword.

Whoosh, thud, whoosh, thunk, whoosh, thwack, whoosh, slice.

Encrid's eyes darted rapidly, trying to keep up with the continuous sword strikes happening before him.

Ragna, swinging his sword sideways, took down five men in front of him with five swift slashes.

'What kind of technique is that?'

His stride was a single step, yet his sword struck five times.

How could that be possible?

It was a strike that defied comprehension.

It was faster than the enemy's speed, a preemptive strike. Ragna's sword was now demonstrating that.

"I'll kill them all. You go on ahead."

His voice was gruff, and his bangs hung low, partially obscuring his eyes.

Through his blonde hair, his dry red eyes stared silently ahead.

He deflected arrows flying overhead and killed the enemies approaching him.

Ragna's sword began to move so quickly that even Encrid's eyes could hardly follow it.

As arrows rained down over Encrid's head, several soldiers with shields approached from behind.

"Damned impressive."

This comment came from Dunbachel, who had been watching from the side.

She made this remark while smashing the skull of an assassin who had tried to ambush them from behind with two daggers.

The moment she sensed the approaching assassin, she had planted her right foot on the ground and crushed the assassin's skull with her left knee.

Of course, Encrid had also reacted, raising his sword in response.

Regardless, her attention was also focused on Ragna.

With arrows pouring down, Odd-Eyes coming to his rescue as if flying, and Esther and Dunbachel, along with allied soldiers holding large round shields and encircling him, Encrid felt that he was no longer in mortal danger.

His gaze naturally shifted forward.

'Laikanos.'

Ragna's sword was fast now, but in that final moment, the sword of Laikanos had been even faster.

And the swords of the attackers who had just charged at him were similarly fast.

The enemies who had been recklessly charging retreated after Ragna cut down several of them.

In the process, Ragna's thigh was grazed.

His armor was sliced, and blood stained his clothing, but Ragna acted as if it were nothing and returned to the front.

"Don't hold back on the arrows!"

"Die, you bastards!"

"The flower of the battlefield is the infantry!"

"The end of pain is pleasure!"

All around, curses and battle cries erupted as the fighting continued.

Some died with arrows embedded in their heads.

Others were struck by throwing axes, causing them to fall forward mid-charge.

"Yorororororo!"

An enemy mercenary in a strange fur-lined leather armor pounded his chest and let out an odd battle cry.

Suddenly, Bell appeared and hurled a spear, striking the mercenary down.

"If you don't want to die, fight!"

Bell's shout echoed.

Encrid was carried backward. Three soldiers helped support him. The wound on his left shin was serious enough that walking was out of the question.

"Shit, they're really tough."

Graham, looking out across the battlefield, muttered.

There, in the distance, was Laikanos.

Encrid saw him too.

He hadn't gone down without a fight.

He had managed to land a blow on Laikanos's face.

Even though half of his face was now drenched in blood, Laikanos remained composed.

Without smiling or saying a word, Laikanos looked at Encrid and his group before turning away.

As he retreated, the black-clad, rapid-sword assault platoon gathered around him.

"There are so many of them."

Graham muttered.

"Indeed."

Krais, who was standing behind them with a pale face, agreed.

A unit that risked their lives to kill with a single thrust.

Even at a glance, there seemed to be more than fifty left.

Considering the number of enemies they had already killed and the additional attacks from hidden assassins they had to fend off—

'This is going to be a headache.'

Encrid thought this, and Krais agreed with him.

The battle was brief.

Audin didn't engage since the Wolf Bishop didn't take action, and Ragna also refrained from going deeper into the fight.

Jaxon had returned at some point as well.

The Commanders of both armies didn't seem intent on ending the battle in just one day.

Before the situation could be fully assessed, Graham, with a pale face, approached Encrid, who was already trying to stop the bleeding with some hastily applied bandages.

Seeing this, Krais spoke up.

"We knew from the start that it wouldn't end in just one go. If we can finish it within three, that's good enough. We just need to break their main force. After all, battles are usually decided by the strength of a few elite fighters."

His voice sounded drained.

And it was understandable. Krais believed in Encrid's strength.

He was confident that even if Encrid couldn't take off the enemy's head in a single blow, he would ultimately emerge victorious.

But that wasn't the case.

The first battle was practically a defeat.

Moving their position back inside the castle would be the worst outcome, so they had to see it through here.

And it had to be done as quickly as possible.

They had only three attempts within this limited time.

"If we just hold on, we'll lose."

The Border Guard hadn't even drawn their swords yet.

'Damn it.'

Krais outwardly remained calm, but inwardly, he was considering escape. It was time to seriously think about a way out.

'Could we escape through a hidden passage?'

He had made various preparations just in case.

"The Cultists seem to just be watching? They've only sent a few wolf beasts after us."

Graham, surveying the battlefield, hesitated to deploy the Heavy Infantry.

If the enemy was conserving their strength, so should they.

If they committed their forces prematurely and were pushed back, it would be a massacre.

If the battle between the elites was closely matched, then the regular infantry would have to decide the outcome.

And the role of the Heavy Infantry wouldn't be insignificant.

"That's right. But I'm not sure if they'll just watch tomorrow."

Krais said, looking at Encrid.

The Captain remained as composed as ever, his expression calm and indifferent.

'Hah, this is really going to kill me.'

He couldn't just abandon them and run. Krais had been a merchant, a thief, and even a pickpocket at one time.

But never had he turned his back on someone who had saved his life.

That was a matter of character, beyond any profession.

Besides, with just a bit of effort, they could be saved. It wasn't something that required risking his own life.

"Next time, I'll be the one to cut them down."

"They're fast, though."

Ragna spoke, and Encrid responded with his usual calm demeanor.

"If that's all there is, then just cutting them down will end it."

Ragna's resolute words made Encrid pause in thought.

They were fast, indeed.

His right arm was unusable, and his left shin was in pain.

The armor had protected him, but his stomach was bruised. Although his internal organs weren't damaged, they ached.

The Isolation Technique was an art built upon repeated days.

He had endured thanks to the strength maintained, trained, and sustained over time.

So taking a hit to the torso was something that would heal with a good meal and a night's rest.

But his right arm was a different matter.

"We'll rest for now and get through the night. Be vigilant against night raids and keep the scouts active!"

Graham shouted.

The Heavy Infantry would personally handle the watch tonight.

Although the battle had been brief, the casualties were unprecedented.

The number of dead had reached double digits.

Encrid was lost in deep thought.

Krais noticed this and stepped in front of Encrid.

With the torch behind him, his shadow flickered and danced over Encrid's head.

They were inside a newly pitched tent, with a wild horse outside and Ragna, Audin, Dunbachel, Teresa, and Esther inside.

Whoosh.

A cold wind blew through the half-open tent flap, causing the torch flames to flicker.

Krais's shadow wavered, splitting into two before merging back into one.

"Why?"

Encrid was leaning back at a slight angle.

Krais had just finished changing his bandages.

Swallowing hard, Krais spoke.

"Let's run away."