Chapter 259

“Didn’t I say that fools tend to flock together?”

Rem spoke upon seeing one of the figures blocking their path.

The man had tried to hide under a black robe, but his protruding belly and visible face gave him away immediately.

“Hmph!”

The corrupt priest snorted.

Rem had mentioned this before they left. He’d seen the fat idiot in the market, and the way he looked at him was suspicious.

He also said it wouldn’t be strange for that fool to join hands with another fool.

And that prediction was coming true now.

Of course, there had been some scheming to make that prophecy come true.

“Call me Prophet Rem.”

It was like tripping and falling only to have an arrow fly right over your head—a stroke of luck—but he puffed himself up all the same.

Since things had gone the way he predicted, at least.

Encrid humored him.

“Idiot Rem.”

“Are your ears broken? I said prophet.”

“Originally, ‘prophet’ and ‘idiot’ mean the same thing.”

“You just made that up now, didn’t you?”

“Nope.”

That’s what he’d always believed. Encrid was proud and honest, while Rem groaned, “Let’s stop talking crap,” and abandoned the prophet title.

“There are many foolish and clouded souls in this world. As servants of the Lord, it is our duty to return them to Him, so they may repent and be reborn.”

Audin recited a prayer. It sounded like he meant to kill them all.

He seemed especially eager to kill this corrupt priest in particular.

Encrid stepped forward.

He was the leader of this group. His left hand rested atop the pommel of his sword at his waist, his weight shifted to one leg.

To a stranger, it might look like a relaxed stance, but to seasoned swordsmen, it was clearly a battle-ready position.

From behind the fat-bellied priest, a man stepped forward and asked,

“The client asked me to offer this one last time—any thoughts of joining the Black Blade Bandits?”

Trying to recruit them now? As if they’d say yes.

Krys sneered internally. He also studied the man who had stepped up.

He was a head taller than the priest.

Like Encrid, stepping forward made it clear he was the one in charge.

He had fierce eyes, carried a long sword, and his attitude gave off a hint of disinterest.

He was a mercenary known for killing his enemies through meticulous planning.

Just from his appearance, Krys guessed who he was.

“The Prepared Blade?”

Encrid heard it too.

Apparently, the man was a well-known mercenary. That sparked a bit of curiosity.

Arms relaxed, legs slightly apart, eyes fixed on his own feet and stance.

He subtly shifted his posture—an optimal position to draw a weapon.

He knew how to fight and had real skill. That was Encrid’s assessment.

“You know who I am?”

The mercenary asked. His tone was flat and brusque.

“I didn’t know someone like you would take a job from the Black Blade Bandits.”

Krys said with mock surprise.

It wasn’t a very strong provocation, but the mercenary’s brow twitched. He seemed annoyed.

“…You’re quick with your tongue.”

“And you’re quick to sell yourself for a few coins.”

A tall man with a fierce gaze and a sword as big as himself.

He was said to be territory-level strong—maybe even Junior Knight level.

What made him famous was how well he prepared for every fight.

Hence the name.

Krys poked at his ego. An agitated opponent was easier to deal with than a calm one. It was a simple tactic.

“Told you, those fools wouldn’t think anything through.”

The fat priest chattered behind him.

Krys hoped the Prepared Blade would lose his temper and charge, but no luck. The man simply raised his left hand.

Suddenly, heads appeared over the ridges on both sides.

Troops had been lying in ambush here for two days. Some were from the Black Blade Bandits, others were part of the Prepared Blade’s mercenary company.

The Prepared Blade had done his homework.

He heard the Swallow Sword was taken out.

But unlike that fool, the Prepared Blade didn’t rely on scrolls.

Unless you were a knight, there was no surviving a volley of arrows.

So he brought fifty archers. The ridges were steep. There might be a few among the enemy who could scale them.

To block that, he stationed two ten-man squads of heavy infantry around the slopes.

More than seventy men to catch fewer than ten.

And that wasn’t all. Behind him stood a formidable group of elite mercenaries.

The hardest part had been getting here unnoticed. The battle itself should be easy.

That was “preparation.”

With his hand still raised, the Prepared Blade spoke.

“You don’t even know the value of your own lives.”

How long could they last after crossing the Black Blade Bandits?

Mercenaries had to be sharp and quick-witted to survive.

He was that kind of man.

And Krys, poking his head out from behind Encrid, said,

“Good. I was worried they’d bring a bunch of mages. But this is kind of sloppy, huh? Did you not get paid enough?”

He formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger as he spoke.

Encrid found Krys’s tongue surprisingly impressive.

He really knew how to rattle people.

“That fucking bastard—I’m gonna skin him alive.”

The Prepared Blade snarled.

Krys feigned fear, eyes wide, then stuck out his tongue.

“Be my guest.”

Sometimes, pettiness was the most devastating move.

Now was such a time.

“You son of a—”

The Prepared Blade was definitely seeing red.

‘Nice.’

Excellent work. Encrid was impressed.

Even in the midst of it, Krys was still calculating.

Scrolls always introduced unpredictable variables—he stayed cautious.

‘Still, no way the Black Blade Bandits have dozens of mages.’

Just seeing them use scrolls before had sparked that worry.

But to Krys, the enemy seemed too underwhelming. Poor quality and low numbers.

‘Why?’

And the answer came immediately.

‘They don’t know the truth.’

Encrid and his squad had shown their strength on the battlefield. They had crushed a colony.

‘But once rumors start spreading?’

Rumors tend to exaggerate. And dumb people who think they’re smart would assume the stories were inflated and strategize around that.

If it were him, he’d verify the truth of those rumors to the last detail.

In the Black Blade’s case, they had their own obstacles.

They tried to dominate the Border Guard’s underworld, but the Gilpin Guild had sway there.

And placing spies inside the fortress was tough thanks to Markus’s competence.

Despite rumors of being a war-crazed maniac, he kept tight internal control.

Even traveling merchants said that soldiers were working harder since he arrived.

Though that was a misunderstanding—

Soldiers were just more motivated to stand guard longer to escape Encrid’s brutal training.

In any case, the Black Blade Bandits didn’t know.

Not only did they misjudge Encrid and his squad, they didn’t even know Krys existed.

Meanwhile, Krys clearly saw their ignorance—and somewhat sympathized.

‘Yeah, where else would you find this many Junior Knight-tier monsters in one place?’

It wasn’t even a knight order.

Markus had used that information void to his advantage on the battlefield.

Even now, there were likely those who doubted Encrid’s ability.

‘And the rest of the squad? Probably not even in the rumors yet.’

A single Junior Knight-level enemy, a bunch of archers, and a few skilled mercenaries.

Even if they weren’t all Junior Knight level, they were still strong by territory standards.

So they weren’t really sloppy. They just didn’t know.

‘Still, maybe they overdid it.’

Krys snapped his fingers.

Snap!

Nothing happened, of course. There was no way the sound would reach over the ridge.

“…What was that?”

Ragna asked beside him.

“Need to go to the temple too, do you?”

Rem asked. Krys cleared his throat and said,

“Just missed the timing, that’s all.”

He had no shame. It happens.

So he said it boldly—and then the ridge suddenly burst into noise.

“What the hell?!”

“It’s an ambush!”

Shouted the enemy soldiers lying in wait.

Some of the archers turned around.

They’d missed their chance to volley from above.

Some of the armored troops standing near the archers turned and rushed at the attackers who had flanked them.

“How dare you!”

One brave enemy charged and swung his sword. A mercenary with a bastard sword.

He gripped it with both hands and brought it down. Not bad.

The man facing him was unarmed.

He ran forward to meet the oncoming blade—diving into the enemy’s chest.

Thud! Crunch!

The mercenary toppled forward, and the man pushed him off.

Torres wiped the blood from his dagger on the dead man’s collar.

Gambeson and light leather armor, with the emblem of the border garrison.

“Oh, made it in time.”

And from the other side, another man darted into the enemy ranks with remarkable speed.

He drew his sword in one breath and pierced through.

It was like lightning. The moment you saw him, a mercenary was clutching his neck.

“Gurk!”

Blood streamed through his fingers as he dropped to his knees.

A pierced throat—he wouldn’t live.

Zimmer, having unleashed his specialty, came to a halt.

“Bastardly bandit scum.”

He spoke. The ridge wasn’t that high—his face was clearly visible.

“Well, looks like it’s over.”

Krys muttered with a mocking tone.

To field this kind of force as a bandit group was impressive.

It showed the Black Blade Bandits had resources.

Especially hiring a mercenary of Junior Knight-level.

That wasn’t ordinary. Even among Junior Knights, there were vast differences.

How many of that caliber existed in the north? You could count them on one hand.

But—they hadn’t understood their enemy.

Well, who would believe it until they saw it themselves?

Krys thought so.

“Bit of a shame.”

Encrid murmured.

Krys ignored it.

He always prepared for the worst.

So he had taken precautions.

Now, the garrison and Martai troops were occupying the ridges around the ambush site.

The enemy archers, flanked, panicked.

‘Shit, they hit the rear? What about the front? Do we have a retreat path?’

They didn’t. From positioning to execution, everything had been anticipated.

Torres, flanking the archers, silently admired Krys’s mind.

‘Big eyes, sharp brain.’

The Prepared Blade’s plan for the ridge was now in shambles.

The soldiers who took the ridge were elite among elites—overlooked only because of Encrid.

The Prepared Blade’s face was expressionless.

But the mercenaries behind him had visibly shifting expressions.

“Shit, this is bad.”

Someone panicked.

“Screw it! Just kill them and it’s over!”

Someone was fired up.

“Shouldn’t we retreat?”

Someone suggested something more practical.

“So… who’s the fool now?”

Krys asked. A deep crease formed between the Prepared Blade’s brows.

“We should’ve just used brute force from the start.”

A large man stepped up beside him. Behind him were around twenty more—all clearly not amateurs.

At least not by regular soldier standards.

“Anyone confident, come forward. I’ll kill you all.”

Thud, thud—the giant wielded iron maces in both hands, an intimidating sight.

They’d win if they struck first before the ridge battle unfolded.

He looked dumb, but he was sharp. Perhaps years on the battlefield had honed that instinct.

“I agree with him.”

A woman beside him licked her lips. Her tongue was so long it nearly touched her chin.

Her face, like her tongue, was oddly long—vertically stretched.

She held three throwing knives in each hand.

They were cheap imitations of [Whistle Daggers].

Rem snarled as he watched them approach.

“I’ll go first. Anyone else tries, I’ll plant my axe in their skull.”

Encrid started to move, but decided to let him.

Thanks to changes in perception, vision, and the evolution of his sixth sense—

With all those combined, Encrid became a fool—just for a moment.

Meaning, he saw it coming.

Among the ones charging in, none could handle Rem’s axe.

(T/N: It’s about time for Krys’ turn to shine. I really love it when he uses his head.)