Chapter 291

“You don’t seem like you charged in here wanting to die.”

The boss spoke. In this situation, what was he even saying? It turned out to be an attempt at persuasion.

He suggested Encrid join them and become a bandit.

Oh, and also serve him at night, was it?

Who knows. Encrid’s memory was fragmented. Especially the memories of this body.

The bandit bastards in front of him just looked like dog-headed beasts.

Like mutts in heat.

They chuckled amongst themselves. Their mouths stretched wide, almost reaching their ears.

His vision blurred.

Among them, the dog-headed boss flicked his tongue and approached.

They had already subdued him. Under normal circumstances, at least up to now, he should’ve waited for the next chance.

As long as he didn’t die, tomorrow would come. Another opportunity could arrive.

The moment he thought of tomorrow instead of today, he saw the corpse of the child and heard the boss’s words.

He said something after that, but Encrid didn’t hear it.

The last thing he remembered was the dog-head stripping the dead child’s clothes.

Why strip the clothes?

‘Shhk.’

[Valen-Style mercenary swordsmanship]. A blade without a hilt.

Encrid held only the blade of a hiltless knife. Blood poured from his torn palm, but no one thought it was from the blade he was holding.

He stabbed with it.

‘Thud.’

He drove it in deep.

‘Crunch.’

And twisted.

‘Crack!’

The boss swung his fist. The impact sent Encrid flying sideways through the air.

Landing on his shoulder twisted his joint. His left arm dangled limply.

Even in that state, he lifted his head.

He saw the boss clutching his stomach with one hand.

The dog head was gone. It was just a man’s face now.

“You son of a bitch. If you wanna die that bad, fine. Then die.”

“Ger. Now.”

Encrid’s tongue wove magic. He spoke as if Ger was still alive and swinging his axe behind the boss.

Startled, the boss flinched and rolled forward.

Of course, Ger was dead. If a dead man swings a sword, he’s undead.

A zombie or a skeleton soldier.

Seeing that, Encrid chuckled. The boss’s eyes were filled with murderous rage.

He’d moved too suddenly, and the wound on his belly split open further, bleeding heavily.

“You won’t die a peaceful death.”

Not that he ever lived peacefully to begin with.

Somehow, it suited him.

Encrid felt nothing. He’d done all he could. If someone came close, he’d bite.

And he fully intended to.

‘What a mood.’

It was like a cock. Like a dog. Fucking hell.

Because of his lack of skill, he couldn’t protect the kid who dreamed of being a knight. Two of his comrades died. The villagers died. He would die, too.

“What was that bastard thinking, charging in like that?”

A bandit underling muttered.

“I have no faith.”

Encrid answered as usual, and the boss and bandits declared him definitely insane.

Who says stuff like that in this situation?

He must’ve hit his head really hard as a child.

‘Thwack.’

And suddenly, the sound.

A head flew. Blood poured. A headless body collapsed.

It was the one who had been stripping the kid’s pants.

‘Shff, thunk, whoosh, snap.’

As if waiting their turn, two more standing nearby had their heads lopped off.

No one saw what happened.

“What the hell?!”

The mercenaries? No, even if they returned, this was impossible. It didn’t make sense.

It was like a gust of wind sliced off their heads.

That’s how fast it was. They couldn’t even see it. The source of the wind opened her mouth. She was suddenly standing among the bandits.

Her entire face was covered by a hood, only her eyes barely visible. But Encrid knew—it was a woman dressed as a man.

Not that it mattered.

“You’re the ones who messed with my campsite, right?”

She spoke, a longsword slung over her shoulder.

She wore black leather armor and had a slender build.

But despite her frame, her swordsmanship was brutal.

Cutting a human head cleanly isn’t easy. Even now, only a few had died instantly from decapitation.

But she’d cut down three healthy bandits—despite them being caught off guard.

“You’re the ones.”

She spoke in an unfamiliar tongue, her sword moving with each word, and the corpses piled up.

Encrid swallowed blood dripping from his split lips and wheezed.

He’d taken a hit to the lungs and his organs were damaged.

Still, he wouldn’t die.

He’d been beaten enough times to know which wounds were fatal. This wasn’t one. He could endure it.

He ignored the pain and watched the raging swordswoman.

“Kill her! Arrows!”

‘Thwip!’

Several arrows flew at her. Of course, they missed.

She moved too fast to see. Between the falling raindrops, those who had been death itself to the villagers—and to Encrid—began to fall.

“All this because of one damn rabbit roasting over a fire?!”

The boss screamed.

The swordswoman replied with her sword. She cut him.

“You vermin. You should’ve known your place before attacking.”

There was no hesitation or mercy in her movements. She cut, slashed, stabbed, and killed.

Encrid watched it all, even as the remaining bandits fled.

Then he blacked out.

He’d lost too much blood and was badly injured.

“Blond, red eyes, about this tall, kinda lazy-looking?”

Though unconscious, he came to briefly and heard that.

The swordswoman even looked down at him while he was unconscious.

When their eyes met, she said,

“If not, whatever.”

Word was, she left after receiving a few gold coins from the villagers.

It wasn’t payment for saving them. They offered, so she took. She didn’t give meaning to what she’d done.

She didn’t save them—she cut them down because they got in her way.

That was all.

When Encrid woke, he helped bury the dead with the villagers.

They buried Ger and Pete, and the child.

“Why did you do it?”

It felt like the dead child was asking.

Standing alone among the graves, Encrid answered flatly.

When he returned to health, rumors spread that he was ‘the one who lets comrades die.’

He had gained nothing and protected nothing in that battle.

But it was a fight he couldn’t back away from.

—

“Because it pisses me off.”

“What?”

“The way they act. Makes you wanna punch them, right? Feels like losing if we run away. Can’t stomach that.”

The words were utterly devoid of emotion. No change in tone or pace—pure apathy.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“And you say that so casually?”

“I’m the cold-flame type of guy.”

“Ah, right. Of course you are.”

Krys gave up.

If he were the kind of guy you could talk out of it, they wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Encrid stood up. That day came to mind again.

“I won’t tell you to run. But at least say something. Why are you really doing this?”

Strangely, it was the same question the kid had asked at the grave.

“Because I want to.”

Same answer as before.

What is a knight?

A person who keeps their vows—that’s what they said.

Encrid grew up listening to poetry and dreaming through stories.

Those dreams became his current beliefs.

To him, a knight was someone who kept their word and never betrayed their heart.

He’d been through many similar moments since.

Maybe the goddess of luck really did watch over him.

He had barely survived each time.

Then one day, in a slash-and-burn village, he got the talisman that made today repeat.

‘The world’s funny like that.’

So he would do what he had to. He would act as his heart and vow dictated.

“So, you’re staying behind to protect them? If we retreat, the Border Guards’ civilians will suffer, right? People will die, cultists will run rampant. It’ll be chaos. You’re staying to stop that. Right?”

“No, I just don’t like their faces.”

“Oh come on! No, you’re doing this to protect people!”

“You’re still talking casually.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’m the crazy one. Sure.”

Krys truly gave up. Encrid chuckled.

Yeah, he wanted to protect them.

Wasn’t that his duty and responsibility?

If he couldn’t protect those behind him, what was the point of this sword?

What else could he protect?

If he couldn’t even shoulder what was behind him, he couldn’t do anything. That was Encrid’s vow.

“May the Lord’s blessing be with us.”

Audin prayed without a smile.

Ragna silently oiled his blade.

Jaxson had already disappeared.

Teresa and Dunbakel said nothing.

And Esther, of course, didn’t even bother.

The panther couldn’t care less what they were talking about.

“Are you all seriously insane?”

Only Krys grumbled, but he didn’t seem like he planned to leave, either.

As the night passed, Encrid decided he couldn’t use his right arm.

He could force it in a pinch, but better to hold off.

His shin injury was surprisingly manageable.

‘As long as I don’t move too much.’

In the middle of the night, Audin asked,

“Should I heal you?”

Encrid was perceptive. He survived often because of luck, but also due to intuition.

He roughly knew what would happen if Audin used his holy power.

And he didn’t want to force someone who clearly didn’t want to.

Was it worth sacrificing something from that sincere, bear-like soldier just for his arm to heal faster?

“No need.”

He refused. Audin just smiled again.

That night, a strategy meeting was held. There was a lot to discuss.

“We have to counterattack. Force the enemy to show their hand first.

Hold out one more day. Strike on the third.”

Graham nodded. He was thinking about deploying the heavy infantry.

Krys imagined every possible disaster that could happen on the battlefield and picked them apart one by one.

He stayed up all night. Dark bags formed under his eyes.

“All-nighters are skin’s worst enemy.”

He grumbled but kept thinking.

At dawn, the battle resumed.

“Kill them all!”

Lykanos yelled instead of fighting at the front.

“We have to endure. Intact.”

Krys said, and Encrid moved where his instincts led him—to the very front line.

He held his sword with only his left hand.

“Endure!”

“Pain that doesn’t kill me—”

“Makes me stronger tomorrow!”

The warped slogan found its place again.

Just as the battle began, a spear unit lunged at Encrid.

Lykanos just watched. The glint in his one remaining eye didn’t even register.

Encrid held out again that day.

He didn’t die, but couldn’t push forward either.

Because he endured, allied morale soared.

A mere injury couldn’t stop the Madman Platoon.

Especially since Encrid’s own unit hadn’t even joined the fight yet.

Both sides were still holding their final cards.

“Kill them aaaaall!”

“Fuck!!”

Amid curses and battle cries, the soldiers fought fiercely.

Encrid didn’t die this time either, but took three slashes to the abdomen.

It was intentional.

Fighting with only his left hand made things messy.

He trusted the armor he got from the Explorer’s Tomb. A real treasure.

‘Tap, tap.’

Encrid slapped his belly and grinned.

“Solid.”

Crazy talk after crazy actions.

Krys said it all with his face and sighed as the second day ended.

The next morning.

“Do we really need to go this far?”

His face and arms were covered in scratches and bruises.

A badge of honor from the day before.

These would heal with spit, so it didn’t matter.

But it didn’t look great, and Krys commented early in the morning.

“They keep hitting and running. Just blocking got annoying.”

He gave up his belly in exchange for slitting two throats.

One with the Whistle Dagger, one with a [Formed Sword Technique].

“…Let’s not talk anymore.”

When the battle resumed again, Encrid saw something unexpected.

“Aaaaaaugh!”

A child, unable to even scream properly, stood at the front of the enemy line.

Not just the front—he was deep within arrow range, as if begging to be shot.

He wasn’t a bandit or part of Lykanos’s army or a cultist.

He was a familiar face. A kid he vaguely remembered seeing before.

A child from within the Border Guards. Someone they were meant to protect.

“A gift, you bastard!”

Lykanos shouted from behind. Even as he spoke, there was no joy in his voice.

Just a petty move to mess with morale.

“Benzense.”

At Encrid’s word, Benzense understood immediately.

“Don’t shoot!”

He shouted, and the archers lowered their bows. Even the enemy didn’t shoot.

The boy ran. Stumbling, but he managed.

Encrid stepped forward a few paces.

Just in case an arrow flew from behind—he was ready to block.

Shield in his left hand.

And just as the boy reached him—

‘Flash!’

A light burst from the child’s stomach.

And then—

“Do we really need to go this far?”

Krys’s nagging woke him.

Today began.

It was the same today he had already experienced yesterday.