CHAPTER 285

As Encrid was stirring up the Cultist forces, Sinar also moved into action.

She took twenty of her swiftest and most skilled soldiers and circled around the outskirts of the battlefield.

Their role was sniping.

This group of twenty didn't engage in direct combat, instead, they observed the flow of the battle, assessing the enemy's formation as they moved.

With her extensive experience from hundreds of battles, Sinar's keen Fairy senses read the battle's flow.

She distinguished and identified the sounds she heard.

Thus, she confirmed the first target.

"Let's go."

The selected soldiers followed closely behind her.

Sinar's platoon quickly circled around the battlefield and struck from one side.

"Shit, these crazy bastards!"

The enemy soldiers responded fiercely. The twenty soldiers held their ground and withstood the attack.

Though their combat abilities were outstanding, they were still somewhat ordinary.

They could be called elite, but they were not at the level of the Border Guard Direct Unit.

However, Sinar was different.

While the enemy's attention was drawn to her platoon of twenty, she leaped into the air, stepping on the head of an enemy soldier.

She propelled herself upward, as if someone was pulling her up from above, her movements effortless.

It was as if she had wings.

She stepped on the enemy soldier's head and, with a flick of her toes, struck his throat.

Thump!

The blade attached to the bottom of her boot pierced the soldier's throat, leaving a hole as she drew her blade.

With a sharp sound, the leaf-shaped sword gleamed as it was revealed. Then she casually thrust the blade downward several times.

Clang, thump, squelch.

The soldier whose helmet was struck by luck stumbled and fell to the side.

Another, who was less fortunate, had his helmet merely grazed and thrust his spear upward in return.

The third, who was outright cursed by the Goddess of luck, had his forehead slashed, blood streaming down his face as he collapsed.

All of this happened just before the soldier she had stepped on fell to the ground.

Sinar drew her blade back and sliced through the middle of the incoming spear.

Her blade cleaved the spear in half, turning it into a short staff.

The soldier, now holding a staff instead of a spear, raised his shield.

Rather than striking the shield, Sinar stepped on it and ran forward.

She was like an arrow, targeting the enemy.

She stepped on shields, heads, and shoulders of three more soldiers and gracefully landed on the ground, where her target was in sight.

The target she had located by distinguishing sounds—the Commander. More precisely, the Commander of a small unit, the brain behind the troops.

"Stop her!"

The Commander's shout was in vain. No sooner had he spoken than his throat was pierced by her blade.

It was one of Sinar's techniques, a rapid thrust executed by twisting her waist and flicking her blade from shoulder to fingertip. It was called the 'Skipping Stone Thrust', one of the skills she had mastered.

One reason Viscount Tarnin's forces managed to hold together was the presence of Commanders like these, strategically positioned across the battlefield.

In that battle, Sinar cut down three more such Commanders.

"That crazy Fairy bitch!"

A higher-ranking Commander who had been watching the battle shouted through clenched teeth.

Of course, he had already doubled his guard.

Simultaneous strikes. Krais was aiming for this.

One side targeted the supply lines, the other the Commanders.

They aimed to deal the maximum damage to the enemy forces converging from two directions.

Sinar accomplished her task, sustaining only a few scratches.

'I wonder if they're doing well?'

She thought as she wiped the blood from her blade.

How were Encrid and his men faring?

What had started as a joke seemed to have become reality.

'To think of his face as soon as the battle ends.'

Sinar felt a dulled something within herself but smiled.

This too was part of life, part of the joy.

That man had a strange charm. It wasn't the kind that fulfilled a spell, but one that made you want to watch and cheer for him. So it was natural he kept coming to mind.

"We're retreating."

As she headed back after completing her mission, with the noonday sun shining on the ground, the Fairy thought about the man.

It wasn't just a feeling between a man and a woman. It was more akin to an anticipation of what a person could achieve.

'How far will he go?'

The Fairy asked herself in her heart. Naturally, there was no answer.

* * *

'Relaxation.'

If you're always in a state of tension, your body becomes rigid. A rigid body makes it difficult to demonstrate your usual skills.

"Muscle growth and stamina development are the same. Just as intense training is important, so is rest. It's only after resting that both strength and stamina increase."

Those were Audin's words.

Encrid pondered them. He had gained some small insight through battle and reflected on it.

Tension and relaxation.

What if you could find moments to loosen your body even during combat?

He had noticed it when watching Ragna, and when observing Jaxon as well.

Jaxon seemed to apply no force to his body except when swinging his sword, and Ragna, even while continuously swinging his sword, didn't appear to exert much force.

The same was true for Audin.

Dunbachel and Teresa had similar habits.

There's a spring and rhythm that comes from managing tension and relaxation.

Rest increases stamina.

Rest improves strength as well.

Couldn't the same apply to swordsmanship?

"Resting is important."

Audin had said it countless times, but it hadn't fully sunk in until now. That one small phrase had finally permeated his skin and settled in his core.

Because he could think and act simultaneously, he did so. This battle was a learning experience.

'What if I deepen the relaxation?'

It was important to observe and accurately assess oneself, and for Encrid, this was as natural as breathing.

Through this observation, he came to understand something.

It was the beginning of relaxation.

Thanks to the first ability he gained through repeated 'todays'.

'The Heart of the Beast.'

Courage allowed him to appropriately relax his muscles and breathing even when blades were flashing and quarrels aimed for his head.

It was also a way to fight for a long time. To face many with few, one had to manage their stamina.

Of course, Encrid's stamina was monstrous.

Compared to an ordinary soldier, he possessed endurance that couldn't be measured in the same conversation.

But that didn't mean he was never exhausted.

In that sense…

'Rem is fine.'

The thought followed naturally.

Who had taught him about the Heart of the Beast?

Who was the one who spouted nonsense most often during battle?

He could indeed be called a master of relaxation.

"That's not a master of relaxation, he's just thoughtless."

When Encrid voiced his thoughts, Jaxon responded from beside him.

"He's just stupid."

Ragna added.

"When he's hitting me, it seems like all his muscles are filled with tension."

Dunbachel commented with a hint of criticism, while Teresa remained silent.

And then Audin spoke.

"Are you worried about your barbarian brother?"

Worried? About Rem? The gray-haired monster? The guy who would cut down a demon with his axe?

"Me?"

Encrid chose his words carefully before responding in a serious tone.

Was it really that he appeared worried?

Audin smiled gently.

"If there is bitterness in your heart, your vision becomes clouded, and if there is worry in your heart, your thoughts will naturally drift in that direction. Therefore, focus solely on the Lord and rid yourself of bitterness. Praise and honor the Lord, and in doing so, find peace in your heart."

Audin recited a verse from the sacred text. Beside him, Teresa softly echoed Audin's last words, 'Find peace.'

Though her face was hidden behind a mask, it seemed she was deep in thought.

Perhaps it was the awkwardness of facing the Cultists again.

After all, wasn't she originally from that side?

Word had it that she was born and raised there.

It was understandable if her mind was troubled.

Encrid glanced at Teresa and reflected on whether he was truly worried.

'Absolutely not.'

Why would he worry about that crazy Rem?

Still, something bothered him. It was subtly unsettling.

'Why?'

They were retreating to the rear. There were no signs of being pursued. None of their soldiers had been hit by stray arrows, and naturally, no one was injured.

Everything had happened in a flash.

An ambush, a raid, arson, and then a retreat.

There was no need to wait for the cover of night, they executed everything in broad daylight. And that was fine. They moved quickly enough to finish before the deaths of the scouts they had sent ahead were even reported.

But why was this sense of unease creeping in?

Being accustomed to self-observation, Encrid naturally retraced the events.

'They were too weak.'

Ordinarily, dozens of wolf beasts would have been sufficiently threatening.

'Could the Cultists really have come without knowing our capabilities?'

That didn't seem likely.

Then why did they feel so vulnerable?

Encrid recalled a time when Marcus had successfully concealed himself and his company.

'Appearing weak suggests something is being hidden.'

This meant that the Cultists hadn't revealed their full strength.

In other words…

'The Black Blade Bandits have something hidden too.'

After considering a few things, this conclusion naturally came to him. Could Krais be unaware of this?

'No, he knows.'

He knows, and that's why he structured the strategy this way.

The idea was to chip away and extract as much as possible before the enemy revealed all their hidden moves.

That was the essence of this supply raid.

"Even if you pray for his death, he'll still come back."

At the mention of worry, Jaxon added. His eyes were indifferent. Looking into those red eyes, Encrid nodded.

"I know."

There was no need to worry. Who could he possibly be worried about now? The only one left behind was that crazy barbarian, Rem.

* * *

Rem acknowledged that he was excited.

Everything begins with awareness.

There can only be change if you recognize and acknowledge it.

If you have an excitable temperament, you must be aware of it to maintain calm.

"Are all beasts the same? No, but every beast that survives has the same traits."

These were the words he had heard when he first learned about hunting.

Having longer fangs doesn't guarantee survival.

Having sharper claws doesn't matter either.

Whether it's a lion running across the plains or a tiger ruling the mountains.

The reason they survive is because they know something.

And if there's something to know, it must start with knowing oneself.

You start by recognizing the length of your claws, the strength in your legs, and your stamina. That's the beginning.

'In that regard, the Captain is quite unique.'

Even though he was aware of his abilities and clearly understood what he could do, his body didn't always follow suit. Or rather, it hadn't.

But that was no longer the case. His skills had grown to a threatening level.

Watching this unfold felt, at times, like a stroke of luck.

Knowledge, change, the blood that surged after staying still for a few days—it was a combination of reasons.

Rem felt a rush of excitement.

He assessed the situation, recognized himself, and didn't bother to hide it.

"You stupid, dumb-headed bastards."

The three wolf beasts that charged at him were different from before.

Their speed, strength, and cunning were on another level.

Not all beasts are the same.

Even among them, there are exceptional ones.

These three beasts were like that.

They were insanely fast and insanely clever.

Rem allowed a wound about the size of a fingertip to form on his side to quickly cut them down.

He let their claws graze him.

At that moment, he swung his axe swiftly, splitting the head of one of the beasts right down the middle.

Blood and brain matter splattered, obstructing his vision, but Rem didn't even blink as he used his remaining axe to sever the neck of the beast whose head had just been split.

He knocked the split head aside with the back of his hand, sending it flying in one direction.

As the flower-like head flew through the air, one of the other beasts dodged to the side, exactly as Rem had anticipated, and he followed up by throwing his axe.

Whoosh, spin!

The axe, spinning so fast it turned into a blur, buried itself deep in the skull of the wolf beast that had just moved out of the way.

The axe throw and the beast's head movement seemed to happen simultaneously.

It was something he could only do because he had predicted the beast's evasive direction.

One beast remained.

Rem twisted his lips into a full grin.

"Monster!"

"That monster bastard!"

"Ahhh, may the curse of the Demon Realm be upon him! The Master of Beasts will personally devour him!"

The Cultists nearby kept babbling incessantly.

"What the hell are you saying, you crazy fanatics? Come at me already."

Rem muttered as he switched the axe in his left hand to his right.

"Hey, mutt, aren't you coming?"

The last remaining beast crouched low, its killing intent fully revealed as it glared up at him. Meanwhile, one of the Cultists threw a dagger.

Without taking his eyes off the wolf beast, Rem tilted his head slightly to dodge it.

In that instant, the beast pounced.

There wasn't even the sound of it pushing off the ground. The wind hit the tip of his nose first.

It lunged, fast and fierce, belying its massive size. Its nose was just below Rem's estimate.

As he watched the wolf beast charge, Rem swung his axe twice as fast as he had before.

Whoosh.

Few of those watching could properly track Rem's movement.

Without even a blink, his vanished right arm and axe moved from the upper right to the lower left.

He had deliberately swung lightly before to lull these bastards into a false sense of security, but this time, he swung with full force.

The beast couldn't react. Its neck was half-severed as it charged forward, spewing blood.

However, its momentum carried it forward, crashing into Rem.

Rem swung his axe and sidestepped, shoving the wolf beast's body away.

With a heavy thud, the beast's corpse crashed down, silencing the Cultists.

With the same unchanging smile, Rem spoke to them.

"See you again."

It was a simple farewell, but to the Cultists, it sounded terrifying.

See that thing again? That monster?

Rem swiftly withdrew, retrieving the axe he had thrown as he ran.

'Let's see.'

His side was a bit gouged, and maybe a rib was cracked?

Rem calmly assessed his condition. It wasn't a serious injury. Considering he had just cut down three monstrous beasts that would be considered demons wherever they appeared, it was relatively minor.

Some of the Cultists attempted to chase him, but it was merely a half-hearted effort.

"Want to take another hit from the axe?"

Wasn't it such a chilling thing to say as he looked back at them?

Rem was eager to find Encrid and share the story of how he had taken down those three beasts that would be treated like demons.

'He'll be so surprised he might ask me to teach him something else.'

As these random thoughts crossed his mind, Rem's body suddenly shifted to the side. He planted his right foot firmly on the ground, exerted force with his big toe, halted his forward momentum, and pivoted sideways. It was an impossible move for a normal human, displaying incredible leg strength and balance.

He had been running straight, but suddenly moved at a right angle.

Thud!

A spear, as long as a forearm, embedded itself in the ground where Rem had just been running.

The spear sank deep into the ground, vibrating as it stuck halfway into the shaft.

It would take considerable strength to pull it out.

Rem recognized the shape of the spear.

It was familiar, though not anymore, but once, in the past, it had been.

It was a throwing spear favored by the Western tribes.

"So, I'm running into my own kind here?"

A voice followed.

It wasn't in the language of the Empire but in the tongue of the West.