Chapter 217

               

As Zimmer’s foot struck the ground and he charged forward, his body blurred like an afterimage. His speed was terrifying.

It was reminiscent of a Junior Knight’s charge.

But it wasn’t quite on that level. That much was clear.

Encrid angled his sword upward. He braced his wrist and forearm with strength, holding it like a solid wall. It was a defensive form, somewhere between the Formed Sword and Heavy Sword styles.

Clang!

The tip of Zimmer’s Esterk struck the flat of Encrid’s twisted blade. Sparks flew, and Zimmer’s sword deflected to the side. Zimmer immediately retracted his weapon.

Naturally, Encrid wasn’t pushed back by force. He didn’t budge. As Zimmer pulled back, Encrid analyzed him.

‘A naturally light body.’

A physique trained to the extreme, charging in with a thrust—he hadn’t even worn armor for this one strike.

His sword was thin and narrow, seemingly modified for lightness, and even his boots looked minimal.

All of this was deduced from a single sword clash.

The moment Encrid grasped Zimmer’s tactics, he realized this wouldn’t be a prolonged duel.

Encrid had seen what Zimmer did—and knew he could do the same.

Even without such equipment or techniques.

So, he would do just that.

He slid his left foot back and pushed his body forward. It wasn’t the same thrust as Zimmer’s, but one that would appear similar.

He triggered the [Heart of Monstrous Strength], channeling power from his toes to his ankles, thighs, and up through his body.

On top of that, he unleashed the thrust he had learned on his first battlefield.

Boom!

He kicked off the ground and surged forward.

The air tore apart, and in Encrid’s focused eyes, nothing else existed.

Only the sword—and the man holding it.

Zimmer also moved to thrust his sword. But to Encrid, everything seemed slow. The extending blade, the shifting of weight forward.

Encrid knew his sword would land first.

And even so, his opponent wouldn’t stop. Knowing that, he stabbed Zimmer’s shoulder with his right-hand sword, and with his left hand, drew a second blade and struck the middle of Zimmer’s Esterk with precision.

A timed defensive strike like a blade itself.

To Encrid, it was a smooth exchange. But to the watching soldiers, it was pure spectacle.

Thwack! Slam!

Zimmer charged and retreated in an instant, while Encrid lunged, thrust, and struck in rapid succession.

That was the end of it.

To the soldiers, it all happened too fast to follow.

All they saw was the hole in Zimmer’s shoulder—and his body collapsing to the ground.

“Guh.”

Zimmer stifled a groan. He was a man who knew how to endure pain.

The broken half of his blade, struck near the middle, spun through the air before plunging into the ground.

It had been a thin, straight sword designed for a single thrust. Naturally, it was weak against side strikes.

The move Encrid used was part of the [Heavy Sword Style]—a technique known as [Weapon Shatter], performed with his left hand.

Encrid didn’t celebrate his victory in the duel.

He simply—

“Next?”

He raised his gaze and asked.

General Olf answered quickly.

“We Surrender.”

It was as good as surrendering all of Martai.

And it was a battle that would firmly establish the name Encrid.

Waaaaah!

A belated cheer erupted. As the shouts of their enemies echoed, the soldiers of Martai turned pale.

Their commander had surrendered. Some of them wouldn’t escape execution.

The cleanup was Markus’s responsibility.

“Drop your weapons, all of you!”

The commander shouted in all directions. It was the announcement of the war’s end.

Thud, thud.

As the late summer heat lingered, rain began to fall.

Even though the sky was clear, it rained.

A prank from the Summer God.

Sunlight filtered through the rain.

Encrid stood there, sword in hand.

Not just the soldiers of Martai—but even the Border Guards—had their eyes on him.

At the end of every gaze, the man who stood in the rain, caught between beams of sun and godly mischief.

He was the man who led, stormed through, and ended this battlefield.

His name was Encrid.

—

“Will you die? Or be imprisoned?”

Markus left the choice to Olf. The man from the East chose life.

“I’ll be imprisoned.”

Killing him would’ve been troublesome for Markus too. There was still plenty to extract from a man like Olf.

‘Feels like I got this one handed to me.’

Markus handled the rest with a swift and unhesitating hand.

“I was the Guard Captain.”

He looked at the man who hadn’t stepped forward and surrendered immediately.

“Kill him.”

“…What? But I surrendered!”

“A Guard Captain who bows his head without a single act of resistance?”

Markus was cold. He didn’t even show his usual smile. His words condemned, yet sounded as though they weren’t directed solely at the man.

And then, he calmly delivered a death sentence.

“This can’t be…”

Crack! Snap!

The 1st Company Commander handled it himself. He bashed the man’s neck with a mace. A single blow was enough.

The man’s head hit the floor with a dull thud. His neck bent at an unnatural angle, leaving a corpse sprawled awkwardly.

“Too much talk.”

That was enough to strike fear into the enemy.

“Zimmer, was it?”

Markus called to Zimmer, who was bleeding from the shoulder.

He glanced at Encrid, and then spoke quietly—just enough for Encrid and Zimmer to hear.

Of course, someone like Jaxson or the Elf Company Captain could’ve overheard if they tried, but that was how softly he spoke.

“What do you think? Seems like a man too good to kill.”

The question wasn’t for Zimmer—it was directed at Encrid.

Encrid tried to read Markus’s intent.

“I don’t think there’s any need to kill him.”

As Markus lowered his voice, Encrid replied in kind. Markus nodded exaggeratedly at the answer, and then raised his voice—booming with volume.

“You’re a man who knows how to honor your opponent! Such generosity!”

“To plead for the life of the man you fought—what a heart you have!”

‘Plead? When did I do that?’

Encrid was dumbfounded.

Markus, continuing in his loud voice for all to hear, declared:

“I will grant your plea! Not only did you lead us to victory, but you also showed mercy to an enemy commander! You are the finest soldier I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that right? What do you all think?”

The final question was directed at their own soldiers—in other words, it was all part of building him up.

Despite the victory, the overwhelming display of strength, the gentle pattering of raindrops, and the dim sunlight that broke through—

Some soldiers who had missed their chance to cheer finally raised their voices.

“We won!”

That short but bold cry quickly turned into a full chorus of cheers.

“The flower of the battlefield is—!”

“The infantry!”

“The pride of the Border Guards is—!”

“The madmen!”

Encrid let out a small laugh.

‘That ridiculous chant just keeps getting worse, huh?’

It was oddly consistent, in its own way.

“We lost.”

Below, Zimmer muttered and motioned his troops to gather to one side.

“Don’t resist. Don’t die meaninglessly.”

Normally, when cities fought, the best outcome would be capturing an enemy commander and exchanging them for krong or some other reward—but this was different.

It was a crushing, total defeat.

The city had fallen. This was a war that would be written in the history books.

“My name is—!”

“Encrid!”

“WAAAAAAAH!”

As the cheers from the soldiers grew louder, the uneasy citizens of the city watched nervously. They locked their doors tight, not daring to go out. All they could do was peek through cracks in windows and doors.

The more timid didn’t even dare look outside.

It was common for soldiers to turn into bandits after a city was captured.

If that happened, it wouldn’t just be theft—it would be rape, pillage, and atrocities.

Fear blanketed the entire city.

Some citizens gripped sticks or pokers, wondering if they should try to fight back—but that would just be throwing their lives away.

“Zimmer, I’ll appeal to your honor. From this moment on, this city is under the Border Guards’ control. Do you think it would be a problem if we withdrew the standing army and left only a small garrison behind?”

Markus was one of the most political among the central nobility.

He knew how to win people over.

“If you make that promise, we plan to march out today.”

Zimmer blinked. Based on what trust? If they left only a small force, wouldn’t Martai’s army outnumber them again?

Honor? Appealing to his honor?

“If you start getting second thoughts, just look over there.”

Markus stepped in and whispered. A few steps away stood the man with black hair, alone. His name was Encrid, a man with a habit of declaring his name on the battlefield.

His looks were annoying—not exactly pretty, but more handsome than necessary.

“The Madman Company Commander. If our men get mistreated, this time they’ll take it out on the city’s people instead.”

Trust required belief. And if there was no belief, then fear could create it.

Backed into a corner with no choices, trust would form on its own.

“Yes. I swear on my honor.”

Zimmer made the promise.

“We march.”

Markus gave the order and smoothly handled the rest.

Encrid pulled back. On the way out, he heard that the border defense unit would be stationed in the city.

“Hey, guess we won’t be seeing each other much now.”

Torres came over, rambling. A few of the stationed troops came by to talk as well.

One of them was named Hyoun. He had a few light exchanges with Encrid, like—

“Next time, I’ll take you down. Don’t slack on your training.”

He spouted nonsense and then went to say something to Ragna.

Encrid agreed. That he would continue to grow.

Hyoun hadn’t meant it seriously. The guy was as bad at jokes as an elf.

“So hey, apparently the battalion commander wants to hand over this city to our captain now?”

Krys nodded from the side.

“Seems like he wants to fully unify the city under the border defense. Honestly, I like the ambition. Markus didn’t just win cooperation—he swallowed the city whole.”

Torres glanced at Krys and asked,

“Does he always call the battalion commander by name like that?”

“He always checks first to see if the commander’s aides are nearby. Don’t worry.”

Wasn’t that missing the point?

Whatever. Not his business.

Torres gave a lazy nod and said,

“You become a knight. I’ll aim to become Martai’s next commander.”

That meant reaching the top of the border defense unit.

Just saying it meant he’d been influenced by Encrid.

Which is why Torres felt the need to say it.

“Take care.”

Tap. That was the end of their goodbye. The army withdrew, and the border defense stayed behind.

Immediately after returning, Encrid washed, rested, ate, and slept.

He hadn’t properly rested since the assault on the cursed sword.

“What’s just as important as training, brother?”

That’s what Audin always said.

Rest was as important as training.

The army was still buzzing. For whatever reason, plenty of soldiers were hanging around the Madman Company, but that’s exactly why Rem was there.

No one got too close.

And so, two days of full rest passed. Aside from light training, Encrid gave his body time to recover.

For the first time in a while, he woke up from a deep sleep without dreaming—and found a green-eyed elf before him.

“…A nightmare?”

Encrid muttered.

“If I show up in your dreams, it’s probably a wet dream.”

“So this is reality.”

Typical elf humor. Encrid sat up and asked what was going on so early in the morning.

The elf stared silently for a moment before speaking.

“Finish your training and go see the battalion commander.”

“Okay.”

So she really came here this early just to say that? Elves were always impossible to read.

With that emotionless face and talk of wet dreams—every time, Encrid thought the same thing:

‘Otherworldly beauty, otherworldly personality and jokes.’

After the elf left, Esther stirred and rubbed her eyes. The way she rubbed with her front paws was adorable.

“Good morning.”

“Grrr.”

After greeting Esther, Encrid began his training. As the sun began to rise, just as he was about to head out, Rem stepped outside and yawned with his mouth wide open.

“I’m going to work that beastkin over a bit.”

It wasn’t a question or a request—it was a declaration.

“Why?”

“Leave her alone and she’ll end up a useless leech who does nothing but eat. Wouldn’t it be better to toss her into the battlefield and let her die there? I mean, if that’s what you want.”

“You’re not just making excuses to beat her up?”

At that, Rem fell silent. Sometimes, when he was at a loss for words like this, it was a reminder that he was still human after all.

“…No, the commander accepted her into our unit, so I’m, you know, going to train her personally. What’s that supposed to mean?”

So it really was just an excuse to beat her. Encrid understood, but he nodded without much thought.

The kid had nowhere to go, and the desperate fire in her eyes reminded Encrid of himself. That’s why he had accepted her in the first place—but Rem wasn’t wrong either.

Left alone, the kid would probably die somewhere with a blade in her gut.

“Audin, ask the beastkin if she’s willing. If she agrees, leave her with Rem.”

If not, he planned to transfer her to another unit.

“Of course.”

Audin, who had just finished morning training alongside them, answered. This was routine for them.

Whether they had fought on the battlefield the day before or risked their lives—

The next day always began with training and drills.

After saying that, Encrid made his way to the battalion commander’s office.

As he walked, a thought struck him.

‘So I really am a company commander now, huh.’

Did that mean he had to start managing his own soldiers?

Until now, you couldn’t even call it managing. He’d barely had time to breathe, much less lead.

And now?

He had formed ranks in battle and even given something like orders afterward.

As he changed, so had they.

Strategy and tactics—he thought about how annoying all that sounded. He preferred doing things as they came.

“Let him know I’m here.”

He gave the guard at the office door a nod as he spoke. The guard opened the door and said,

“It was an honor to stand with you on the battlefield.”

So this guy had fought too.

Encrid had been at the vanguard, with no time to look back.

The thrill of battle still hadn’t worn off.

The guard’s words, and the admiring looks from passing soldiers, all reflected that.

Some were bragging about their own feats, and one lunatic even said he’d write a song about Encrid’s exploits.

If the others hadn’t smacked him upside the head, Encrid would’ve done it himself.

The guy couldn’t sing to save his life.

The victory party hadn’t even been held yet.

This time, they were planning to rest properly for two days, and then eat, drink, and celebrate.

Until then, everyone was told to rest as much as they liked.

“Oh, you’re here?”

Markus greeted him with a smile.

“Yes.”

There were no aides or the elf company commander in sight.

Still smiling, Markus said,

“You wouldn’t happen to be interested in becoming the Border Guards Battalion Commander, would you?”

And just like that, he asked.

It was an offer Encrid had never even considered.