Chapter 129 - Heart of Monstrous Strength
Chapter 129 - Heart of Monstrous Strength
Among the soldiers at the front was Bell.
'Shit, shit, shit.'
He had terrible luck.
It might've been better to die from the first strike.
A giant?
There was no option to retreat from that.
Shouldn't the 1st Company be the ones dealing with something like that?
Or maybe the frontier defense troops?
The heavy-armored Turtle Unit was stationed on the left flank.
As for the frontier defense troops, they were nowhere to be seen—maybe they had all gone off to get drunk together.
Bell felt sweat trickling down his back.
His hands trembled with tension.
His legs threatened to give out.
And the giant hadn't even done anything yet, just stood there laughing.
No, in reality, the first hammer strike had already shown everything there was to see.
That single blow, the devastation wrought by overwhelming strength—anyone who remained unfazed after witnessing that would have to be broken in the head.
'Shit.'
Bell instinctively knew he was going to die.
The moment that hammer moved, it would be his turn.
The front line had collapsed, and somehow, he had ended up at the vanguard.
"Well, this is fucked."
The squad leader beside him muttered.
His expression wasn't any better.
The way his pupils shook, it was a wonder he hadn't shouted for them to run.
Not that they could.
If they tried to flee, the vanguard officers behind them would turn into executioners, cutting them down.
Seeing his squad leader that terrified, Bell oddly felt at ease.
Well, shit.
Might as well just die.
The moment he stepped onto the battlefield, his life had already been mortgaged to the afterlife.
Maybe it was just time to collect that debt.
"We're all gonna die anyway."
Bell spoke.
The squad leader turned to him.
Bell looked straight at him and gave a smile of complete resignation.
"But I'd at least like to cut off a toe or something."
They said a giant's hide was too tough for ordinary blades to cut.
Was that really true?
What if he stuck close and kept slicing away?
Even if it was as tough as dragon bones, surely, if he sawed at it up close, he could cut through.
Who knew?
Maybe it was worth trying.
"The flower of the battlefield is—"
Bell started speaking, not with despair, but with resolve.
If he was going to stake his life, then he'd use it well.
Standing still when lightning was about to strike—that was just idiocy.
He had learned that from Enkrid.
A man who never stopped, who seemed not to know the meaning of giving up.
Having fought alongside someone like that, how could he not have learned anything?
Bell had learned.
And now, he would act.
At Bell's words, the squad leader reflexively responded.
"Infantry."
That meant it was time to fight.
Which meant it was time to die.
Or maybe, time to march toward death.
Right then, the giant pulled his massive hammer from where it lay on the ground.
Rumble.
The steel scraped against the gravel as it rose.
The mist was slowly lifting, revealing the hammer's head, smeared with bits of flesh and blood like crushed bread.
The sight was so vivid, so clear.
That was death.
That was the collected debt.
"Heh, heh, heh."
The giant let out another one of those guttural, cavernous laughs as he lifted the hammer.
Unlike before, where he had swung it down vertically, this time he raised it and tilted it sideways.
Trying to kill a lot more in one go, huh?
Bell's mind raced.
Would crouching low help?
Could a hammer that massive really reach the ground completely?
Probably not.
Then the giant bent his knees.
And that hammerhead—it was just too big.
If he swung it at that angle, dodging would be impossible without jumping.
Or he had to stay out of its range entirely.
"This is bullshit. You bastards."
One of the soldiers behind him whimpered.
"What about the retreat signal? They blew the whistle, right? You just didn't hear it?"
A recruit.
Still green.
"Fuck, shit, damn it, you sons of bitches."
Another soldier just kept swearing under his breath.
***
The giant knew how to fight.
If he had attacked immediately, he wouldn't have created this situation.
But by pausing briefly, he had planted fear in their hearts.
The giant had already killed them in their minds.
"Rrgh!"
Even his battle cry sounded monstrous.
With that, the giant unleashed his prepared strike.
WHOOOM!
The hammerhead tore through the air, its monstrous strength exceeding human limits.
WHAM!
Bell had no choice.
He pressed himself against his shield, ready to take the hit and jump at the same time.
Maybe—just maybe—he'd survive.
Of course, he was going to die.
But he was going to try.
For a brief moment, every soldier saw death looming over them.
Bell couldn't even see the hammer's movement properly.
But instead—
Whoosh!
A shadow stepped forward.
'Huh?'
Before he could even register what was happening—
ZZZZAAAAAAANG!
A deafening roar exploded in his ears.
The shockwave alone made him feel like he was being pushed back.
And then Bell saw it.
"…What the fuck."
The words slipped out on their own, the sheer absurdity forcing a curse from his lips.
This was just one ridiculous moment after another.
"Hey, dumbass, you should fight someone your own size."
The figure blocking the way spoke.
It was an ally.
Standing before the giant, he looked incredibly small.
But in both hands, he gripped axes—and he had stopped the hammer.
His arms, veins bulging as if about to burst, were bare from the shoulders down, as though he had torn off his gambeson's sleeves to wear it like a vest.
But he had blocked it.
His feet had slid slightly on the gravel, leaving marks, but—
He had blocked it.
What the hell was this?
Bell couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Then.
"...We're alive."
It was a new recruit.
He spoke through tears, his trembling voice reaching everyone's ears.
The moment Bell grasped the situation, his chest swelled with emotion.
He nearly burst into tears himself.
The joy of survival was overwhelming, yet at the same time—
The back of the one who had instilled unspeakable terror in both allies and enemies now felt more reassuring than ever.
Giants were monsters.
Bloody demons.
Beings who worshiped violence and reveled in slaughter.
So what?
They had a few of those here, too.
A lunatic, a monster, a mad bastard.
The kind whose mere presence on the battlefield crushed their own side's morale.
"Got honey smeared on your lips or what? Why are you keeping your mouth shut?"
That monster spoke.
In the same damn tone as always.
But today, it sounded like a heavenly orchestra.
"You bastard!"
The giant roared in fury, while Rem smirked.
What the hell is he saying, idiot?
Rem was in a good mood.
So good, in fact, that it reminded him of his first battle.
It was all thanks to the sparring match with the captain.
Was it really possible to feel this way from just one spar?
Probably because he'd been holding so much in for so long.
Now that he had let it all out, he wanted to fight properly.
He wanted to show Enkrid, too.
'Look closely.'
'This is what you're going to learn next.'
Even as a child, Rem never flinched at a flying axe blade.
Yet he had learned, mastered, and trained the Heart of the Beast.
If all it did was grant courage and composure, why would he have bothered?
It would have been useless.
Obviously, it had value.
That's why he learned, mastered, and honed it.
The reason was simple—the Heart of the Beast didn't end at mere boldness.
From this point on, it was Rem's own creation.
Not his tribe's technique, but his own.
Thump.
His heart pounded at twice its normal rate, sending blood surging through his veins.
The flow of blood through his body accelerated.
Thump-thump-thump-thump!
His blood vessels expanded, muscles swelled, and their density changed.
A ritual technique that began in the heart granted his body immense strength.
Rem decided to call it the Heart of Monstrous Strenght.
His people only used this technique to prevent aging.
But in truth, it was a technique only he had mastered.
If learned improperly, one's heart could explode, their blood vessels could rupture, or their muscles could rot away, leading to death.
Well, difficulty in learning was just part of the deal.
He had told Enkrid to watch and learn, but whether to take it on was his decision.
If he did choose to learn, Rem would teach him slowly, step by step.
Enough to keep him alive.
It would hurt a little, but Enkrid would push through the pain and learn anyway.
Rem blocked the giant's hammer.
Then, unleashing his monstrous strength, he swung his axe.
Whoosh!
The hammer came crashing down at terrifying speed, and Rem struck it with his axe.
Clang! Crack! Boom!
The axe blade couldn't withstand the impact and shattered.
It practically exploded.
Even though he had deflected the blow as much as possible, the result was still the same.
Rem swung his left arm outward, shaking off the broken axe blade so that it wouldn't hinder him.
The shattered fragments embedded themselves into the wooden armor the giant wore.
'Should've used something better.'
Maybe he should just go full religious fanatic and use a club.
Rem wasn't picky about weapons, but axes suited him best.
Thud.
He discarded the broken axe handle and flicked a spear into the air with his foot.
A spear in his left hand, an axe in his right.
With weapons in both hands, Rem grinned.
A deeply satisfied grin, the thrill of finally facing a worthy opponent after so long, the exhilaration lingering from his spar with Enkrid.
"Hey, let's have some fun."
What followed was a brutal clash.
No one dared approach.
Boom!
Boom!
Clang!
Crackle!
He picked up fallen spears and thrust them, swung his axe in savage arcs.
When weapons broke, he grabbed whatever lay on the ground.
When they were about to run out—
"Throw me some."
Bell, quick on the uptake, tossed the weapons in his hands.
Spears, hand axes—
Someone even threw a dagger at the giant, aiming for his eye.
But the monster merely tilted his head, letting it strike his forehead instead.
Thunk!
What kind of skin was that?
The sharp blade didn't even leave a scratch.
It simply bounced off, spinning uselessly through the air.
Then what the hell was Rem, the one fighting him, supposed to be?
No one knew.
The only certainty was that this monster was fighting to protect them.
Enkrid watched Rem's battle.
His fighting style was relentless.
Brutal.
But more than anything—
'He's matching strength with a giant?'
That meant he was physically stronger than even a Frog.
So this was it.
The thing Rem told him to watch closely.
The thing he was supposed to learn next?
Thump.
His heart pounded.
The anticipation of learning something new.
For Enkrid, the thirst for knowledge was his deepest, most fundamental desire.
"Guess we can leave now. Since he's just fooling around."
Beside him, Ragna spoke.
Rem looked like he was having fun fighting the giant.
Yeah, seeing that, I understood.
Even though he could win and kill, he was still testing the waters.
Why?
'For me to see?'
For a moment, that thought crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it as an overreach.
He just seemed excited.
"Let's get to work now."
Ragna seemed impatient.
Why?
Why was he so eager to fight?
He was usually a guy with no motivation whatsoever.
"Come on."
Since he was rushing things, Enkrid finally moved.
He had seen enough of whatever Rem wanted him to witness.
Ragna was supposed to move to the right, but he kept stepping in odd directions.
Enkrid grabbed him and corrected his movement.
"If we just clear this side, it should be fine."
Krais, sticking close behind, said.
Was that so?
Enkrid couldn't see the full picture of the battlefield.
The present moment was all that mattered to him.
As they moved right, they spotted a group of enemies gathered there.
Ten of them, looking completely at ease.
What was this?
Some kind of joke of fate?
As he got close enough to see their faces, Enkrid realized that the man standing in the center was someone he knew.
Why was he here?
The man also recognized Enkrid's face.
To be fair, Enkrid's face was the kind you wouldn't forget after seeing once—a strikingly handsome one.
"You... You're alive?"
The man's eyes widened as he recognized him, blinking a few times before smiling.
His grin stretched all the way to his eyes.
His triangular eyes twisted as he smiled, giving off a rather unpleasant impression.
"Yeah."
Enkrid answered indifferently, and Ragna shot him a questioning look.
Someone you know?
"From my mercenary days..."
Enkrid started to explain but realized it would take too long.
"A bastard I ran into."
Yeah, that summed him up well enough.
A piece of trash who had a habit of stabbing allies in the back, raping women, and then killing them.
I should've killed him back then.
He had supposedly fled after messing with a noble, but so he ended up here?
"Come on, is that any way to greet an old friend after so long?"
Friend?
Enkrid rarely felt disgust, but this time he did.
A friend?
With something like that?
Ragna glanced at him again.
"No, a bastard."
Enkrid kept it short and sharp, and Ragna nodded.
"Hah, you always had a sharp tongue. But damn, you really made it out alive? What, did you sell your ass somewhere to survive?"
Back in his mercenary days, he used to hear that kind of mockery often.
Because of his looks.
Even after joining the army, the remarks hadn't stopped.
But it had been a long time since he last heard one.
No one dared to say such things to him now.
Because he had proven himself through skill.
So Enkrid easily brushed off the provocation.
Ragna, too, didn't seem to care.
The guy was going to die anyway, so what did it matter?
"Then the boss should take care of that one."
Ragna stepped aside.
The remaining nine seemed to be his problem.
"You three think you can take on the ten of us?"
"I'm not fighting. These two are all you need to worry about."
Krais spoke from behind.
Enkrid scanned the area.
What had these ten done?
The allied soldiers didn't seem eager to engage them.
Then, he saw the bodies scattered around.
Corpses riddled with gaping holes.
Traces of the bastard's usual weapon.
Enkrid's gaze swept over the other bodies.
Cuts, stabs, and piercings from swords, spears, and daggers.
But something about the wounds was off.
The places where holes were made looked almost... like they had been tortured.
"They're killers drunk on their own swords. They seek to improve their skills through murder."
Ragna spoke beside him.
"But it's fine. I told you before, didn't I? If you don't walk the right path, you'll always hit a wall."
Yeah.
That was what he said.
That mercenary swordplay of Valen's style—if you relied on it too much, you'd stagnate.
So he had rebuilt his fundamentals from the ground up.
He had forged a new path.
Enkrid drew his sword.
Ching!
"I'll handle him."
As Ragna had said, it could be called a vendetta.
A scene from a revenge story.
Enkrid decided to honor his fallen comrades—
The one torn apart by Harpies.
The ones who had died back then.
By taking the head of that depraved piece of filth.