Frog recalled the scene reflected in his eyes.
âI thought he would win.â
He was someone who had been taught and had quite talented himself.
His personality wasnât particularly pleasing, but thatâs not something he could change.
A soldier trained primarily in thrusting.
He was quite skilled.
He wasnât someone who would die so easily on such a small battlefield.
If he had kept him, he would have at least become a squad leader.
Frog recalled why the soldier had died.
âWas it due to lack of experience?â
No, there were only a few soldiers trained in this way until now.
He wasnât just someone who would die like this.
âWas it because the opponent was skilled?â
So, it was bad luck. He was ignored by the goddess of luck.
Frog chuckled softly.
âLuck is also a skill.â
As he entered his camp, an lieutenant approached.
âIâve been looking for you for a while, General.â
âOh, really?â
âWere you out on the enemy lines?â
âI just went out for fun.â
âYou seem to be in a good mood.â
âI saw the guy who got stabbed there.â
Frog considers âheartâ a taboo word.
Just watching someone get stabbed to death next to him makes him sick.
But Frog laughs while saying that.
The lieutenant thinks there might be bugs in the generalâs head.
But the lieutenant doesnât doubt him.
The experienced Frog sometimes mentions the word âheartâ.
And the Frog general in front of him was a seasoned soldier.
If he set his mind to it, he could spit out the word âheartâ.
So he could laugh while watching someone get stabbed to death.
To be precise, when he saw something more interesting than getting stabbed in the heart, Frog could laugh.
âYou seem to have seen something interesting.â
âWell, just⊠a strangely interesting guy.â
He wouldnât be an ally. If he had been, he would have brought him in earlier.
Frog walked briskly, saying blandly.
Frogâs soles are thick. He didnât even need boots.
Sometimes, because it was too slippery, there were some who put nails in Frogâs soles.
However, General Frog didnât like those who put nails in their soles.
If it is accompanied by good sense and appropriate trainingâslippery soles also become weapons.
âHe mimicked the thrust.â
It wasnât his area of talent. Frogâs eyes gauge the degree of skill the opponent has mastered.
General Frog saw the enemy soldier thrust. Thanks to this, it was possible to know.
âCountless tempering and tempering skills.â
It is closer to the skill learned by staking his life than to be said to have learned it.
The area of ââignorant effort rather than talent.
âA skill honed through countless repetitions.â
If luck overlaps dozens or hundreds of times, there are things that canât happen.
If you survive even after seeing thrusts countlessly in front of you, you could make such moves.
Everything else is a mess, but only the thrust was worth it.
But does this make sense?
âWith that kind of skill?â
Surviving time and again on the battlefield?
Staking his life to learn means proving that he barely survived.
Clearly, it was a move that could be seen by repeatedly colliding and breaking with opponents stronger than oneself.
Does this make sense?
It doesnât.
So it piques interest.
âI hope to see him again next time.â
General Frog thought such a thing would not happen.
The goddess of luck is unfair. Sheâs biased.
She favors someone with luck.
But even that luck has its limits.
âHe must have used up a lifetimeâs worth of luck.â
There wonât be another time to see it.
That doesnât mean heâll die today.
He kicked away the excitement, but somehow managed to stop it.
And seeing the two who came to protect him at the end, he didnât seem likely to die on the battlefield right now.
Still, it didnât seem like it would last long.
Rushing recklessly towards a superior opponent, even with modest talent, would improve oneâs skills.
Because hundreds of lives may be needed.
âGeneral.â
âLetâs eat.â
Frog stopped thinking about that and lost interest in the other side.
Now itâs time to focus on other things.
Namely, eating.
It was time to devise a strategy.
The blonde lieutenant nodded at the generalâs words.
âLetâs go. Iâll prepare the meal.â
* * *
A sailor appeared.
Encrid realized he was sitting on a boat.
âA dream?â
It seemed like he had encountered something like this before.
It was a distant memory. When was it?
âWhen I first woke up again.â
A sailor without a mouth.
A voice tinged with curiosity.
He recalled the vague memory.
âBack then.â
He had thought it was a daydream. What importance did meeting a sailor in a dream have?
âYouâve crossed over a day like a dragon?â
The sailor said.
Just like then, Encrid couldnât say a word.
It seemed that listening was the only thing allowed here.
âHaving eyes but unable to see, having a mouth but unable to speak, having ears but unable to hear properly.â
The sailor spoke as if singing, a mix of actual melody and rhythm.
He couldnât even blink.
Unable to move anything at will, including his senses.
It felt stifling and frustrating.
âWhat can I do now?â
If itâs a dream, shouldnât spells come out of your hands and all that?
Itâs a dream, but not just a dream.
Realizing this, Encrid knew all he could do was listen.
âCan you continue to endure? Can you do that? I will continue to stand in your way.â
I donât understand what heâs saying.
Didnât he just say that even if he has ears, he canât hear properly?
âYou still canât even hear my name.â
He looked at the sailor. A vague figure appeared over the black veil.
It seemed obscured by droplets of dew, blocking his view.
It was that vague.
All black. At first, he thought there was only no mouth, but there was nothing at all.
âRight now, all you can hear is my whims and kindness.â
He says and chuckles. It wasnât clear that he was laughing. He seemed to be letting the other person know that he was laughing.
âSo what does he want me to do?â
âAh, thereâs nothing over, and you canât get away. The âwallâ blocking your way will always be there. That will be your fate.â
The word âwallâ sounded strange.
Actually, he seemed to hear something different, but it sounded like âwallâ.
What on earth is this?
âCan you survive?â
I donât know what nonsense this is.
âOf course.â
Huh? Words are coming out?
There was no doubt about it.
It seemed like the other person was even more surprised.
âYouâŠâ
Whatever the sailor whispered was soon lost in a haze.
Splash.
The boat disappeared. Encrid fell into deep water.
Above the water, through the mist, a dark mass, not words but intent, conveyed:
âThis wonât stay in your memory. But.â
Chuckle.
The sailor laughed and spoke.
âYouâre really an interesting one.â
That was the end of it.
Losing consciousness as he sank into the deep water. Encrid descended into the abyss like that.
* * *
âWho is the hero of this battlefield?â
âCyprus!â
âWho is the master of this battlefield?â
âCyprus!â
âWho charges towards tomorrow?â
âCyprus!â
âWho passes judgment?â
It was a song. A cheerful melody, a deep voice, perfectly timed rhythm.
âA military anthem?â
No, it wasnât a military anthem.
Since joining this unit, I had learned a few military anthems, but nothing like this.
What I learned here was more like a rhythmic chant than a military anthem.
âWe will prevail!â
Under the protection of the unyielding sun!
Embraced by the power of the divine!
Well, that kind of thing. No melody, just shouts thrown out with vigor and force.
But now there was melody and rhythm alive in it.
It was a familiar song to the ear.
âA bardâs song.â
Not all bard songs are the same.
Among them, there are those who enlist in the military to boost morale on one side.
It might be the case even now.
Where would a bard want to create and sing praise for someone like Cyprus?
Moreover, that young one probably hasnât even seen a knight named Cyprus.
âAre you alive?â
Turning towards the voice, Rem appeared.
His side was twitching like mad.
As he reached out to touch, Rem grabbed his hand.
âYou didnât break anything too narrowly, so donât worry. But your head sure got a good shake. How many fingers is this?â
Rem held up and folded a few fingers, shaking them.
âGo eat shit.â
Encrid tried to accept the current situation.
âTodayâ was over.
Just facing that situation made his mind fierce.
It was difficult to accept Remâs banter.
âSee, you seem out of it. Iâm Rem, forever buddy of the squad leader.â
âYou crazy bastard.â
âForget me? Thatâs too harsh.â
Encrid closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
Today has passed.
So, a day had gone by.
His mind was scattered. The dream was too chaotic.
âDidnât he say I wouldnât remember?â
But it remained vivid.
Dark water, a boat, a sailor with no eyes, nose, or mouth.
I remembered everything he said.
It felt a bit blurry, like something from a distant past.
But my memory has always been good since I was young.
Encrid remembered it all.
âI havenât forgotten. Noble hunter.â
He recalled the nickname Rem once had.
âShh, thatâs supposed to be a secret.â
Finally, Remâs banter ceased. He stared at him, likely wondering why he brought up that topic.
Encrid gathered his thoughts.
First things first.
âWhat happened to me?â
Finally, he could hear the full story.
The fallen soldier, the unexpectedly increased skill, and Frog.
âDid a Frog interfere?â
Despite years of being a mercenary, this was the first time he had seen Frog in person.
Of course, also the first time he had been hit by Frog.
It was fortunate that his ribs werenât completely shattered.
If you encounter Frog as an enemy on the battlefield?
âRun.â
âHide.â
âDie.â
Three seasoned mercenaries offered different answers.
Yet the conclusion was the same.
If you canât run or hide, youâll die.
Frog was that dangerous and formidable.
Thatâs how it is with warrior races.
Giants, dragons, even fairies.
Any race inherently possessed superior abilities compared to humans.
But itâs humans who most often rise to knight-level prowess.
Thatâs likely why humans are the dominant force on this continent.
âAfter that, I literally had to âpersonallyâ carry you out of the battlefield. It was truly a treacherous path. I almost died.â
If it had been genuinely dangerous, he wouldnât have been able to speak like this.
âI owe you.â
âIf you knew that, you could just do the dishwashing duty about ten times.â
This guy, seriously.
Encrid sighed inwardly but nodded his head.
He had said to leave once he finished speaking, but Rem didnât get up easily as usual.
His usual smiling face.
âYou practiced alone? When I wasnât looking?â
What kind of nonsense was this?
âYour heart was ripened?â
Huh?
âI taught you, didnât I know?â
âOh!â
Encrid realized that Rem had been watching him.
Well, since he was watching, he could help in times of trouble.
âBy accident. After surviving several close calls, I figured out what it was.â
Already a plausible excuse dozens of times.
Among them, it was the most plausible thing to say.
It was a true truth without lies.
Just a little reduced.
Without going through several close calls, he couldnât really die.
âWell done.â
Rem finally brushed himself off and got up.
âRest well. Your body needs to recover for whatâs next.â
Encrid finally looked around. It was a medical tent.
Where the injured gathered.
Shall I get up?
When he tried to get up, a soldier sitting on one side said with blurry eyes.
âYou shouldnât move yet. It will make things worse. My head shook a lot.â
He seemed to have visited a military official from a private soldier.
Just a private soldier, if heâs hurt, itâs a relief if thereâs a guy who knows some herbs among his colleagues.
If not, itâs a usual thing to just die.
âHow did I get here, even in a medical tent?â
It was okay to find out later.
More than that.
âTodayâs gone.â
Itâs important that a new day has started.
Looking toward the entrance of the tent, light came in through the cracks.
It wasnât sunlight.
The light of a flickering torch, along with the shadows that moved with it.
The minstrelâs song continued.
âWho is the hero?â
âCyprus!â
The sound of soldiers shouting through the rear window.
He survived today and lived the next day.
However, he seemed to have spent the entire morning and afternoon unconscious, waking up only in the evening.
âDid I pass the day?â
He asked the medic who was waiting.
âItâs been a day, itâs the second day.â
The shock was immense.
Encrid closed his eyes, thinking nonetheless that getting through today was what mattered.
He defeated the jabbing soldier.
He surpassed him with skill.
Afterward, Encrid thought about the sailor.
He recalled and pondered over what he had said.
There was no choice.
He had said it would repeat.
Therefore,
âIf I die, today repeats.â
As if suggesting to endure some punishment.
However,
âWhy would that be a punishment?â
To Encrid, it was not a punishment but a trial.
[T/L: Please support me here: /revengerscans ]