Chapter 331
It was the day before Encrid was assigned to the Madman Platoon.
The squad leader who used to bark orders and force obedience was dead.
The noble brat who replaced him ran his mouth, only to get beaten to a pulp by Jaxson.
The next one who got angry and raised his voice was intimidated by Rem under the pretense of “mental training” and left soon after. Even after that, squad leaders kept getting replaced.
After so many were cycled through, it was only natural for even the company commander to say something.
“If you plan to stay in the army, you should at least follow the basics, shouldn’t you?”
At the commander’s words, Rem nodded.
“You’re right, sir!
It’s all because of that damn stray cat!”
“The guy who blames others is usually the one with the real problem.”
Of course, Jaxson reacted immediately.
Ragna looked at them calmly and said,
“I can transfer to another platoon.”
At that, both Rem and Jaxson turned their heads toward him.
It was like he was saying he was someone else, that this had nothing to do with him.
That lazy tone of his made it even more infuriating.
“That bastard?”
The last squad leader had tried to “discipline” Ragna for his lax attitude—really, he just thought Ragna was easy to push around—and ended up getting his skull cracked open.
And now he was acting like that?
No wonder Rem was fuming and Jaxson’s glare was sharp enough to cut.
It had already been twenty days since they’d been without a squad leader.
The company commander was at his wit’s end.
The battalion commander told him to handle it himself, but how was that possible with this lot?
And if he said, “Sir, I can’t handle them,” that would be the same as admitting incompetence.
What would the battalion commander say then?
“You can’t even control your own men?”
Knowing how that man loved to shift blame, it was obvious what he’d say.
‘They should all just die out there.’
No matter how dangerous the battlefield, these bastards only came back with a few scratches.
Wouldn’t it be better if they at least got injured?
With that kind of skill, why were they wasting away here?
Well, seeing how they behaved, it wasn’t that hard to understand.
Rem had been sent to the 1st Heavy Infantry Company but cracked his superior’s head open and ended up here.
Even now, the 1st Company would grind their teeth whenever they saw him.
But Rem? He’d hear that sound and act like it was some kind of symphony.
“It can’t be helped.
Brother, I’ll lead them for now.
If this is the trial the Lord has given me, then I must face it and observe the world as His small and humble servant.”
At Audin’s words, the company commander was speechless.
The religious soldier who always sat in silence with a pale face had decided to step forward now, of all times.
And did he even hear himself? Small and humble? The man was built like a bear.
Besides, the commander would rather sacrifice his adjutant than put that fanatic in charge.
He’d probably just tell them to pray all day.
And even if the commander were willing to risk it, did he really think the others would go along quietly?
“What the hell is that oaf babbling about?”
The madman with the axe spoke first.
Then the lazy one joined in.
“If your head’s broken, go take your medicine.”
And then the handsome one—the one everyone agreed was the best-looking in the platoon—spoke.
“Do you have a death wish?”
Why was it that Jaxson could get along with people from other units but turned into such a leaky pot when dealing with his own?
Ugh. Headache.
“Enough. A new squad leader will be here this afternoon. Please, for once, don’t beat him up or mess with him.”
The company commander left, silently praying for the newcomer’s survival.
He had no choice. They needed someone right away, and this one was the only available option.
Not a noble, no special talent, not even a great fighter.
All the commander could hope for was that he wouldn’t cause trouble.
Even after the commander left, the tension in the air remained thick.
Rem had ended up here by coincidence.
He’d killed a noble’s son and came to this unit to lay low for a while—planning to leave after half a year.
But by some cruel twist of fate, he ended up surrounded by bastards like these.
‘Every one of them is full of themselves.’
None of them knew how to back down.
Not that Rem was any different.
The current battalion commander had gathered all the problem soldiers here, thinking it didn’t matter if they killed each other off. But Rem couldn’t have known that.
“Maybe I should just kill them all and move to another unit.”
Rem muttered loud enough for everyone to hear—more a provocation than a mumble.
“Do you have a death wish?”
Ragna responded immediately.
“Brothers, if you wish to rest beside the Lord, I shall pray for you.”
And that “prayer” wouldn’t be spoken quietly.
“Idiots.”
Jaxson joined in too.
They had insulted one another plenty before, but never crossed the line—because they all knew that if they truly fought, someone would die.
Still, that didn’t mean they were the type to let things go.
The spark was trivial, but the explosion inevitable.
They’d been watching each other from the start.
Rem dropped his arms loosely, noting Jaxson’s position.
He knew better than to show his back.
Ragna stood up slowly, his movements noisy enough to seem careless—almost too careless. Was that an opening, or a trap?
Rem knew that lazy bastard could still swing his sword from that stance.
Audin clasped his hands in front of him.
A stance from the Valaf Style of martial arts.
There was no killing intent, but the air itself felt heavy and sticky.
Anyone weak-willed would’ve been crushed by the sheer pressure filling the tent.
Then the flap of the tent rustled open.
Someone stepped inside—a stranger to them all.
Black hair, blue eyes, striking features.
After entering, he glanced left and right.
Anyone with sense would have backed out immediately—or fainted on the spot.
“Um, yes. This is the, uh, squad tent. Maybe you should come back later.”
The big-eyed soldier behind him spoke nervously.
He could sense how dangerous the atmosphere was. Best to avoid it entirely.
Krys tugged at the newcomer’s sleeve, trying to pull him back.
But the man didn’t budge.
Instead, he took one step forward and spoke.
“Squad leader Encrid. Don’t fight.”
Rem had been waiting for a chance.
His relaxed arm could grab the axe and swing it at any moment.
Audin was ready to counter anything that came his way.
Ragna could cut through all three of them in one stroke, and Jaxson already had daggers hidden in his sleeves.
Anyone stepping into that space would die.
And yet, the stranger walked straight in.
“Stop.”
It was sheer madness.
Encrid stepped between them.
He was lucky.
Rem had just started to reach for his axe but froze mid-motion.
A moment later and the man in front of him would have been split in half.
Audin’s shoulders trembled, and Ragna’s grip tightened on his sword.
Only Jaxson seemed motionless—but both daggers were already in his palms.
“…Looks like another crazy bastard just joined us.”
Ragna muttered.
“Are you insane?”
Even the dullest fool wouldn’t jump into that.
No—he wasn’t clueless.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Rem realized it the moment he met Encrid’s eyes.
So, did he throw his life away? No.
He felt the tension, but didn’t fully grasp the danger.
Still, to walk in there?
What kind of monster had nerves like that?
Later, when Rem saw him flinch and close his eyes every time he swung his axe, he wondered what kind of man this was.
But his first impression remained.
“If you’re not fighting, that’s good enough. I’m Encrid.”
The new squad leader didn’t even offer a handshake.
He introduced himself, nothing more.
Didn’t ask for their names either.
Just expected everyone to do their jobs.
To Rem, that alone made him seem utterly, completely insane.
“Seems like an interesting one just showed up.”
Rem muttered.
He was already intrigued by this madman.
At the time, everyone thought Encrid wouldn’t last a week.
—
Encrid remembered the first day with the Madmen.
Why had he stepped in?
Ah—because he thought a squad leader should do his job.
At least stopping a fight between his men felt like a duty.
The air now was just as suffocating as it had been then.
The pressure crushed his shoulders, threatened to tear his heart apart.
He’d closed his eyes before, but he could endure the pain and weight.
That was why he’d stepped in back then.
‘I really was an idiot.’
Rem stood with his arms lowered, the axe hanging from his belt.
He was “ready.”
To his left stood Ragna, both hands lightly gripping his sword.
To his right, Audin stood still, fists pressed before his abdomen, smiling faintly like a statue.
All of them were “ready.”
Step in unprepared, and you die.
You die for sure.
The pressure pierced like a spear through the heart.
Even without trying, their killing intent filled the air like a tangible weight.
He hadn’t seen it before—but now, he could.
Did that change anything? No.
It didn’t matter if they tried to crush him or not.
Encrid was itching to show what he’d learned, what he’d mastered.
His body had finally recovered, and he was eager to move again.
He drew his sword.
Not the short dwarven gladius, but a long silver blade.
Shiiing—
He drew it slowly, holding it in both hands.
It was Ragna’s sword—the one he’d taken from a fallen Junior Knight.
Ayah of the Brown Earth? Odd name.
The blade was sharp, its balance perfect despite the broken tip.
It had once belonged to a Junior Knight of the Royal Knights.
The hilt was wrapped in beast leather, gripping firmly against his palm.
After a deep breath, Encrid stepped between them.
Teresa and Dunbakel frowned as they watched.
‘He’s really stepping into that?’
Esther was away, and Krys had gone to the market.
At least that meant no bystanders would get skewered.
Unlike before, Encrid knew what he was walking into.
He took on all their pressure alone.
Ragna in front, Audin to the right, Rem to the left.
Then—
“Not bad.”
He even spoke.
Then he moved.
Pivoting on his left foot, he swung his blade.
It began with the [Will of the Moment].
With a twist of the waist, his right hand turned the sword into a flash of light.
Swoosh!
A piercing sound split the air.
The blade aimed straight for Rem’s forehead.
“Shit!”
Rem’s axe moved.
It, too, became a streak of light.
Light met light.
Clang!
Steel struck steel, and the harmony began.
Yes—this was the beginning.
The tension exploded.
Encrid started by showing Rem that moment—then darted right.
He feinted a retreat, then stopped abruptly.
It was [Valen-Style Mercenary Swordsmanship], the crossing step.
Pretending to advance, then halting, he brought his sword down vertically.
A crushing strike.
A sword based on [Will], the sword of pressure.
As it bore down, Audin shouted,
“Father!”
Even his battle cry sounded like a prayer.
Vwoom—
The air shook.
The crushing blade was pushed back.
And it wasn’t over.
As everyone moved, Ragna, who held the center, made his move.
Encrid ignored Audin and charged at Ragna.
Using the pressure strike to buy a moment, he closed the distance.
“Just gonna stand there and watch?”
He spoke and swung again.
It was the [Proper Sword Style].
A form designed to draw his opponent into his rhythm.
He deliberately aimed for Ragna’s right shoulder.
By revealing his intent, he forced a dodge.
Then, as Ragna shifted, Encrid moved to follow through—
But Ragna’s blade deflected his completely.
He didn’t even let the Proper Sword Style begin.
Something in that movement felt wrong.
He wasn’t fighting seriously. Holding back.
And yet, still defending perfectly.
Clang!
“You read me?”
“Too obvious.”
No, it wasn’t obvious.
Ragna had changed.
His sword now cut through intentions themselves.
“Damn.”
Encrid grinned and met Ragna’s strike head-on.
A [Snake Sword] technique.
Deflecting, flowing, thrusting sideways again—
Another [Will of the Moment], this time toward Rem.
He dragged the axe-wielder back into the fight—
And stepped toward Audin next, using his [Snake Step].
A step he’d reinterpreted for himself—a glide forward without leaving the ground.
Fast.
The next slash came down like a hammer.
Audin responded.
“Lord!”
Crash—!
Another impact.
And another roar.
“Are you kidding me!”
Rem shouted.
Who could blame him?
Encrid was taking on all three at once.
One against three.
“Are you insane?”
Ragna tilted his head.
“Brother, it seems your skull needs divine healing.”
Audin understood his intent.
He was saying with his whole body—Come at me, all of you.
Encrid laughed.
Ah, this was fun.
How could it not be?
He could see, feel, understand it all.
Every movement, every flow.
‘How’s that? My sword.’
He was thrilled. Whether it was three or four opponents didn’t matter.
“I can’t take this anymore.”
Teresa rose from her corner.
“Yeah, I’m losing it too. Been dying to jump in.”
With a snort, Dunbakel’s body grew white fur—turning into a great white lion.
Everyone clashed.
The tent shattered.
Boom!
Walls and doors burst apart.
When Krys returned late, he found the wrecked barracks surrounded by onlookers.
“What happened?”
“Looks like they’re trying to kill each other,” Graham replied with a stunned face.
Even the lord was just watching—no one dared interfere.
The sheer force was overwhelming.
“They’re all insane.”
Krys could only gape.
Barely recovered, and they were already doing this?
No wonder everyone called them the Madmen.
And he couldn’t even stop them.
They’d always been like this.
The fight ended at sunset.
When the red light faded, the platoon emerged, steaming and bleeding from every limb.
The half-destroyed tent looked like ruins.
How they’d even split the ceiling was a mystery.
“You’re back?
Guess we’re sleeping somewhere else tonight.”
Hearing Encrid’s words, Krys could only laugh.