Chapter 282

"All forces assembled."

Aside from those on patrol duty, every soldier was gathered.

Enkrid stood on a platform at the edge of the training grounds, looking down at the assembled troops with a neutral expression.

Will this even work?

The question nagged at him. Half of him felt like this was a pointless endeavor.

A speech? Out of nowhere?

This was Kraiss’s idea.

Toward the end of the strategy meeting, Kraiss had asked,

"What does a group facing crisis— a force standing against danger— need most?"

Then, before anyone could answer, he provided the answer himself.

"It’s simple. What our domain needs right now is a focal point."

He spread his arms wide as he spoke, a gesture that looked like something out of a stage play, yet oddly fitting.

It was a movement designed to capture attention.

Following Kraiss’s explanation, Enkrid’s gaze shifted to the head of the table.

The man sitting at the highest seat, weighed down by responsibility and exhaustion, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep.

"Battalion Commander?"

One of the company captains muttered the title, his tone filled with uncertainty.

"With all due respect to Commander Graham, there’s no one in this army more widely known than the commander of the Mad Platoon," Kraiss continued. "There are people in this domain staying here only because of Enkrid. But do you think they all intend to fight for us?"

He didn’t drag out his explanation or humiliate Graham. Instead, he kept his words concise, allowing Graham to maintain his dignity.

And Kraiss was right.

Marcus had poured gold into hiring mercenaries, effectively absorbing them into the army— but not all of them.

Some still had one foot out the door, waiting to see how things played out.

If things went south, they’d bolt. Maybe even switch sides.

There were always mercenaries willing to act like bats, flying wherever the wind favored them.

"And morale is another issue."

Kraiss raised a finger beside his face as he spoke.

The rumors spread by the cultists and the Black Blades…

That Azpen would invade at any moment. That Marcus was orchestrating a rebellion and would soon be executed. That the cult was going to unleash a horde of beasts on the fortress tonight.

The domain’s security forces had resorted to beating down anyone caught spreading such rumors.

But was that really effective?

No.

Enkrid knew it wasn’t a solution.

You couldn’t beat words out of existence.

You couldn’t stop people from talking with brute force alone.

So how could they counteract it?

Kraiss answered his own question by folding his fingers into a fist and swinging it downward.

"You fight rumors with something even more visible."

That’s why they needed a focal point.

In other words— to put it in the language of myths, history, and legends— they needed a hero.

For those who had fought beside him, Enkrid may very well have appeared that way.

The man who once stumbled through battles had now become the commander of an independent company, a living symbol of martial strength.

It was like something out of an epic tale.

Some of the soldiers who knew how to compose had even written songs about him.

They weren’t particularly good, but still.

"Ah. Yeah, fair point."

Venzance muttered involuntarily before quickly looking away, casting a glance at Graham.

That wasn’t the kind of thing he should’ve said in front of the battalion commander.

But even Graham agreed.

In all honesty, the thought had crossed his mind multiple times— what if we just made that bastard the battalion commander instead?

Was he lacking ambition?

No. That wasn’t it.

‘In situations like this, you need a lunatic.’

And, above all, Enkrid was the right kind of lunatic.

If it were him, Graham wouldn’t mind stepping aside and letting him take both the command and responsibility of the domain.

There wasn’t some grand reason behind it.

It was just that, for some reason, Graham wanted to see that mad bastard succeed.

If someone asked if he’d go as far as to actually hand over his position, the answer might be more complicated…

But Enkrid was no incompetent fool.

In terms of governance, it might not be such a bad thing.

A fleeting thought.

"Do it."

Graham’s exhausted expression eased slightly.

This was something worth trying.

And most importantly, there were no nobles around to spout nonsense and get in the way.

That alone was a relief.

"Are you sure about this?"

Palto raised a minor objection, but that’s all it was— a formality.

He also knew something had to be done.

Whether it worked or not was another matter entirely.

And so, Enkrid stepped onto the platform.

"Just tell them to fight hard. That’s all you need to say."

Kraiss had said just before he climbed up.

Enkrid simply nodded.

"Right now, what we need is to minimize infiltration and show the outside world that we’re still strong," Kraiss had continued. "So we need to give the soldiers something to believe in. Commander, you should take a good rest, and when the speech starts, just stand behind Enkrid and clap with a relaxed, confident face. After that, just leave the rest to us."

It was a performance, nothing less than theater. A calculated move to raise morale and undermine the enemy’s psychological tactics.

And Enkrid had decided to play his part.

Now he stood on the platform.

He could see veteran soldiers among the murmuring crowd. Faces he recognized, and faces he didn’t.

Though the snow had not yet fallen, the sky remained dark.

But for a brief moment, the clouds parted, and sunlight streamed down.

Enkrid opened his mouth.

"Do you think we’re going to lose?"

The soldiers remained silent, staring at him.

There were too many people for everyone to hear him clearly.

Behind him, Esther had shifted into human form and was making subtle gestures.

A spell to amplify his voice.

Enkrid thought of Kraiss.

For a brief moment, his impression of the man resurfaced in his mind.

Not just someone who listened well, but someone who commanded those around him.

Thump.

His heart pounded. A heat surged from deep within his gut.

"I don’t think I’m going to lose."

A simple, direct statement— and it carried.

It was a voice filled with certainty.

How?

That was the question on their minds.

How could he train himself to the point of near self-destruction every day?

How could this man be the way he was?

"I won’t lose. Guard the Border."

At the third sentence, a soldier shouted back.

"How do you endure it? How do you train like that?"

The voice came from a recruit— one of the fresh conscripts who had once lived as a petty thief before joining the Gilpin Guild.

He had enlisted after witnessing Enkrid fight.

He had chosen to become part of the army.

Enkrid had never considered himself a particularly skilled orator.

So he simply spoke from the heart.

Which is why, without thinking, the words spilled out:

"The pain that tries to kill me only makes me stronger."

Who cared about deeper meanings?

Silence fell.

Many of the soldiers were turning the words over in their heads.

The clouds parted further, and sunlight streamed through, casting a warm glow over the ranks.

A strange warmth spread through the soldiers standing in the light.

For a moment, nothing was said.

Just as Enkrid wondered if he should speak again—

A soldier bellowed,

"I want pain too!"

…What?

Enkrid glanced down. His face remained impassive, but the sight of his unreadable expression only gave the soldiers a sense of confidence and reassurance.

"I’ll endure the pain!"

Another voice rang out.

"I can do it too!"

Another shout.

"The pain that tries to kill me—!"

"Only makes me stronger!"

A strange chant had formed.

But in the end, things had gone just as Kraiss predicted.

Morale was rising.

Rem, watching from the side, blinked and muttered,

"Wait, isn’t it supposed to be what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger? I swear I’ve heard that somewhere before."

Yeah, the phrasing had come out wrong.

It had come from a place of knowing firsthand that death did make you stronger.

"As long as the result is what we wanted."

Palto murmured.

The soldiers chanting and cheering were different from yesterday.

On the verge of desertion thanks to rumors and propaganda, Enkrid’s words had ignited their fighting spirit.

Pain only made them stronger.

The pain that tried to kill them only made them stronger.

Sure, pain that actually killed you made you dead, but that didn’t matter.

The soldiers had been shaped and tempered by relentless training.

They had changed.

Some had already known Enkrid. Others had only heard tales of the Mad Platoon.

But this was his voice.

As the cheers faded, a sinister presence flickered among the ranks.

"You can’t catch every spy. The best we can do is root out as many as possible."

Kraiss’s words surfaced in Enkrid’s mind.

Even he couldn’t single-handedly identify every infiltrator.

But maybe… he could force their hand.

A sudden spark of insight struck him.

"My name is Enkrid! Commander of the Mad Platoon!"

His voice rang out, loud and resolute, cutting through the waves of cheers.

"Tonight, I’m going to take the enemy commander’s head! Expect it!"

It was the kind of madness only a madman could pull off.

Behind him, Rem whispered again.

"We’re really going tonight?"

The roar of the soldiers shook the platform.

Feeling the vibrations beneath his feet, Jaxon processed Rem’s question, thought it over, and arrived at a conclusion.

He had also sensed the uneasy air mingling among their own forces.

"No, we’re not. You stupid barbarian."

Jaxon quickly grasped his commander’s intent.

Rem, as always, ignored him.

"Let’s just leave this bastard behind. He’s useless anyway, right?"

Whether they bickered behind him or not, Enkrid paid them no mind.

Instead, he unsheathed his sword.

Shriiiing!

A soft blue glow split through the sunlight, rising into the sky.

"All forces, to your positions!"

"Uooooooohhhh!"

The cheers grew louder.

"Pain!"

"Grant us pain!"

"Ooooh, pain!"

The chants grew wilder.

Graham wasn’t sure if this was really the right approach.

But in the end, the morale boost was undeniable.

Far beyond expectations.

Kraiss often thought that Enkrid didn’t fully grasp his own position.

But that made sense.

Inside the Border Guard, Enkrid was twice the lunatic he appeared from the outside— and twice the monster.

And what would people think when they heard that this madman, this monster, was leading them into battle?

They’d lose their minds.

Their morale would skyrocket.

Everything was going exactly as predicted.

Graham didn’t care about whatever calculations Kraiss had made.

He only knew one thing—

The timing was right.

The troops' morale had soared, their voices filled with manic fervor as they chanted.

Right now, passion mattered more than cold calculation.

The veterans at the frontlines would handle keeping things under control.

Graham shouted,

"All troops, stand by!"

Like a well-oiled machine, the soldiers fell into formation.

The Day and Night Operations had begun.

***

Gilpin stole a wary glance at Frokk’s face.

If things went wrong, he’d be the one getting beaten to death, after all.

"Relax. The deal’s done. You’re guild members now."

Whatever he had done, Kraiss had officially accepted Frokk into the guild.

It felt wrong.

This was the same bastard who had stormed the guild headquarters twice and flipped the place upside down.

But orders were orders.

And following Kraiss’s orders had never gone badly for him.

He had been told to dig escape tunnels— so he dug.

He had been told to accept Frokk— so he did.

Gilpin followed his orders without question.

"This way."

Unlike Gilpin, Frokk and Meelun showed no signs of suspicion.

"I’m hungry."

"Here."

Fresh out of prison, Meelun chomped down on his worm stew while watching a headless corpse.

Crunch.

Biting into a fat larva, he felt sheer happiness.

He ate fruit, he ate human food— but nothing compared to worm stew.

Nutritious and delicious. A delicacy.

After three days of doing nothing but eating and sleeping, Gilpin hesitantly asked,

"Would you mind keeping an eye on who’s coming and going?"

"Oh, sure."

Meelun got up immediately.

The conditions Kraiss had offered were very appealing.

Especially the fact that he wasn’t forced into any oaths.

‘Unlike that bastard Promshell, who forced me into one right away.’

Kraiss had played to Frokk’s weaknesses perfectly.

But his approach was different.

"Eat what you want, do what you want. Just do it inside the domain."

"Why should I?"

"What is it that you want? I’ll make sure you can do it as much as you like."

Meelun didn’t answer right away.

Frokk’s kind were creatures driven by desire. Kraiss was sharp— perceptive beyond reason.

He read Meelun’s wariness in an instant.

"Why should I tell you that?"

"If you tell me, you can leave whenever you want. I’ll even open the prison door myself."

By taking a step back first, Kraiss had won.

Meelun finally opened his mouth.

"The feeling of victory. That moment of triumph. That’s what I crave."

Kraiss understood instantly.

Victory and accomplishment— but not necessarily battle itself.

Many people desired results without putting in the effort.

There was no reason Frokk should be any different.

"Then you’ll want lots of easy prey."

"Sparring won’t cut it."

He flicked his long tongue out in distaste.

What he wanted was the thrill of real combat.

"Ah, perfect. Border Guard attracts plenty of those kinds of people. If you ever go overboard, just say the word— we’ve got people who’ll handle it."

Like Rem. Or, well… Rem.

And the ones who actually knew proper martial arts?

Those would be Enkrid’s opponents.

There were still plenty of mercenaries, swordsmen, and traders flocking to town.

Half of them drawn in by Enkrid’s growing reputation.

‘This’ll work as a good filter.’

If Frokk beat most of them to a pulp, only the good ones would be left.

"I can roam the domain freely?"

"Feel free to pick fights with anyone hiding their true strength. Sound good?"

The essence of raw combat lay in the opponent.

He needed real challengers.

The kind of fighters who’d push him to that peak moment of satisfaction.

Just imagining it sent shivers through Meelun’s body.

His skin grew slick with excitement.

"Without an oath?"

"Without an oath."

Kraiss smiled.

Oaths were irrelevant.

Frokk’s kind were bound by their own desires.

As long as he kept indulging that desire, he wouldn’t need a magical contract to keep him in check.

Meelun was too naive to see that.

And so, he became a guild member and began wandering the domain freely.

Meanwhile, in the backstreets, Gilpin picked up on some new movements against them.

A few unfamiliar faces had appeared, whispering about forming a new guild.

And among them— their chosen enforcer.

A man with two thick scars running down his face.

He carried a heavy iron club, and a single hit from that thing wouldn’t just sting— it’d shatter bones.

Just from a glance, Gilpin could tell he wasn’t some run-of-the-mill thug.

But he wasn’t anything special either.

At best? Former Border Guard material.

Nowhere near Frokk’s level.

"Oh? You looking for a fight?"

Meelun grinned.

This guy was perfect.

The right balance of skill and vulnerability.

If he toyed with him a little before finishing him off, it would be fun.

"Why the hell is Frokk here?"

The scarred man’s eyes darted nervously.

"Does that matter?"

Meelun replied, raising his looped sword.

The man was already panicking.

The outcome was obvious.

***

"My name is Enkrid! Commander of the Mad Platoon!"

His voice rang out, loud and resolute, cutting through the waves of cheers.

"Tonight, I’m going to take the enemy commander’s head! Expect it!"

It was the kind of madness only a madman could pull off.

Behind him, Rem whispered again.

"We’re really going tonight?"

The roar of the soldiers shook the platform.

Feeling the vibrations beneath his feet, Jaxon processed Rem’s question, thought it over, and arrived at a conclusion.

He had also sensed the uneasy air mingling among their own forces.

"No, we’re not. You stupid barbarian."

Jaxon quickly grasped his commander’s intent.

Rem, as always, ignored him.

"Let’s just leave this bastard behind. He’s useless anyway, right?"

Whether they bickered behind him or not, Enkrid paid them no mind.

Instead, he unsheathed his sword.

Shriiiing!

A soft blue glow split through the sunlight, rising into the sky.

"All forces, to your positions!"

"Uooooooohhhh!"

The cheers grew louder.

"Pain!"

"Grant us pain!"

"Ooooh, pain!"

The chants grew wilder.

Graham wasn’t sure if this was really the right approach.

But in the end, the morale boost was undeniable.

Far beyond expectations.

Kraiss often thought that Enkrid didn’t fully grasp his own position.

But that made sense.

Inside the Border Guard, Enkrid was twice the lunatic he appeared from the outside— and twice the monster.

And what would people think when they heard that this madman, this monster, was leading them into battle?

They’d lose their minds.

Their morale would skyrocket.

Everything was going exactly as predicted.

Graham didn’t care about whatever calculations Kraiss had made.

He only knew one thing—

The timing was right.

The troops' morale had soared, their voices filled with manic fervor as they chanted.

Right now, passion mattered more than cold calculation.

The veterans at the frontlines would handle keeping things under control.

Graham shouted,

"All troops, stand by!"

Like a well-oiled machine, the soldiers fell into formation.

The Day and Night Operations had begun.

Gilpin stole a wary glance at Frokk’s face.

If things went wrong, he’d be the one getting beaten to death, after all.

"Relax. The deal’s done. You’re guild members now."

Whatever he had done, Kraiss had officially accepted Frokk into the guild.

It felt wrong.

This was the same bastard who had stormed the guild headquarters twice and flipped the place upside down.

But orders were orders.

And following Kraiss’s orders had never gone badly for him.

He had been told to dig escape tunnels— so he dug.

He had been told to accept Frokk— so he did.

Gilpin followed his orders without question.

"This way."

Unlike Gilpin, Frokk and Meelun showed no signs of suspicion.

"I’m hungry."

"Here."

Fresh out of prison, Meelun chomped down on his worm stew while watching a headless corpse.

Crunch.

Biting into a fat larva, he felt sheer happiness.

He ate fruit, he ate human food— but nothing compared to worm stew.

Nutritious and delicious. A delicacy.

After three days of doing nothing but eating and sleeping, Gilpin hesitantly asked,

"Would you mind keeping an eye on who’s coming and going?"

"Oh, sure."

Meelun got up immediately.

The conditions Kraiss had offered were very appealing.

Especially the fact that he wasn’t forced into any oaths.

‘Unlike that bastard Promshell, who forced me into one right away.’

Kraiss had played to Frokk’s weaknesses perfectly.

But his approach was different.

"Eat what you want, do what you want. Just do it inside the domain."

"Why should I?"

"What is it that you want? I’ll make sure you can do it as much as you like."

Meelun didn’t answer right away.

Frokk’s kind were creatures driven by desire. Kraiss was sharp— perceptive beyond reason.

He read Meelun’s wariness in an instant.

"Why should I tell you that?"

"If you tell me, you can leave whenever you want. I’ll even open the prison door myself."

By taking a step back first, Kraiss had won.

Meelun finally opened his mouth.

"The feeling of victory. That moment of triumph. That’s what I crave."

Kraiss understood instantly.

Victory and accomplishment— but not necessarily battle itself.

Many people desired results without putting in the effort.

There was no reason Frokk should be any different.

"Then you’ll want lots of easy prey."

"Sparring won’t cut it."

He flicked his long tongue out in distaste.

What he wanted was the thrill of real combat.

"Ah, perfect. Border Guard attracts plenty of those kinds of people. If you ever go overboard, just say the word— we’ve got people who’ll handle it."

Like Rem. Or, well… Rem.

And the ones who actually knew proper martial arts?

Those would be Enkrid’s opponents.

There were still plenty of mercenaries, swordsmen, and traders flocking to town.

Half of them drawn in by Enkrid’s growing reputation.

‘This’ll work as a good filter.’

If Frokk beat most of them to a pulp, only the good ones would be left.

"I can roam the domain freely?"

"Feel free to pick fights with anyone hiding their true strength. Sound good?"

The essence of raw combat lay in the opponent.

He needed real challengers.

The kind of fighters who’d push him to that peak moment of satisfaction.

Just imagining it sent shivers through Meelun’s body.

His skin grew slick with excitement.

"Without an oath?"

"Without an oath."

Kraiss smiled.

Oaths were irrelevant.

Frokk’s kind were bound by their own desires.

As long as he kept indulging that desire, he wouldn’t need a magical contract to keep him in check.

Meelun was too naive to see that.

And so, he became a guild member and began wandering the domain freely.

Meanwhile, in the backstreets, Gilpin picked up on some new movements against them.

A few unfamiliar faces had appeared, whispering about forming a new guild.

And among them— their chosen enforcer.

A man with two thick scars running down his face.

He carried a heavy iron club, and a single hit from that thing wouldn’t just sting— it’d shatter bones.

Just from a glance, Gilpin could tell he wasn’t some run-of-the-mill thug.

But he wasn’t anything special either.

At best? Former Border Guard material.

Nowhere near Frokk’s level.

"Oh? You looking for a fight?"

Meelun grinned.

This guy was perfect.

The right balance of skill and vulnerability.

If he toyed with him a little before finishing him off, it would be fun.

"Why the hell is Frokk here?"

The scarred man’s eyes darted nervously.

"Does that matter?"

Meelun replied, raising his looped sword.

The man was already panicking.

The outcome was obvious.

"Failure?"

The Wolf Bishop of the Cult of the Divine Beast paused mid-bite, chewing on his meat.

A chunk of flesh tumbled onto the table.

"Yes. We’ve lost contact with the team we sent to take over the backstreets."

"Send more."

The bishop sighed.

Boring.

But he couldn’t move just yet.

‘Are they really just going to sit back and do nothing?’

Whoever made the first move had to draw their sword first.

That was how things worked.

And now, there was intelligence suggesting that an assassination squad was targeting their leadership tonight.

No way in hell was he going to sit around and take that.

"You dare come for me?"

He grinned, baring his fangs.

The moment they arrived, he’d sever their heads and mount them on pikes for all to see.

The Wolf Bishop chuckled.

But that night…

There was no attack.

Instead, the next morning—

The Border Guard’s standing army marched beyond the fortress walls.

Their destination?

The Black Blades’ encampment.