Torment, ignorance, despair.
Those who had been pursuing Encrid gave up.
The Commander who had been at the forefront was speechless.
Seeing this, the adjutant beside him spoke.
"We've lost him."
It couldn't be helped.
They thought they had him for sure when they threw a rope to catch him, but he broke it with sheer strength and escaped.
It was superhuman strength.
And that wasn't even the end of it.
He didn't seem to tire, constantly running forward, always moving ahead.
That madman never knew how to rest.
He never stopped.
Just watching him made it impossible to muster the will to chase him.
The target never rested, constantly in motion.
In the end, he ran and walked.
At some point, the commands from the Commander grew fewer, and their steps came to a halt.
The man named Encrid had completely escaped from the trap Avnair had set.
Even the Gray Hound had stopped.
The Commander of the Gray Hound merely observed the traces of the vanished man.
Not only had he escaped their encirclement, but he had also entered enemy territory.
If they pursued him further, they would be counterattacked.
Thus, it was over.
"Avnair, Avnair…"
The Commander of the Gray Hound repeated the name of the one who had vowed to take full responsibility for everything.
Hadn't that man said it was fine even if every soldier died just to catch that one person?
"Yes, call me a fool in the future if you like. Call me an idiot who sacrificed a thousand soldiers just to catch one elite soldier!"
The Commander recalled the passionate speech Avnair had made.
If they had all died, then perhaps he would have had something to say.
Less than half of the forces were lost.
No, only a small portion died.
Two sorcerers, two wizards, a few mercenaries, and two swordsmen from the Hurrier family.
The number of regular soldiers lost was minimal.
The enemy had evaded them.
They had found an absurd, nearly unbelievable retreat that no one would acknowledge if reported.
The Commander of the Gray Hound admitted it.
"We can't catch him."
All that remained was the report.
Avnair had said he would sacrifice a thousand soldiers to capture him and would be remembered as a tragic fool.
Avnair couldn't even become a fool.
That opportunity had been taken from him.
* * *
Avnair also admitted that something had happened to Galaf and the Junior-Knights.
"They're not coming."
As he gazed at the distant battlefield, Commander Nilf bowed his head.
Avnair had staked everything on this operation.
It was akin to gambling against the Royal King.
The end was approaching.
"What about those assassins who claimed to be confident?"
He had even employed those who fought without hesitation in the shadows.
"There's been no contact. Either they've fled, or..."
"They've been taken out, haven't they?"
Escape? They cannot run away.
If Avnair so much as moves a finger, their entire clan would be ruined.
In other words, they were taken out.
But by whom?
It was utterly absurd.
They had been completely bested.
"Hahahaha."
Avnair laughed.
If there was no sense of futility in that laugh, then he wouldn't be human.
"Does the world hate me?"
"Or has the goddess of luck turned her back on me?"
"Or is it something I missed?"
"What did I miss?"
He muttered to himself.
The words, spoken in a calm tone, were like daggers he was plunging into his own chest.
There was no way Nilf could know what Avnair didn't.
Nilf remained silent.
They were inside the command tent.
The two of them were left alone, the only ones remaining.
Avnair sat by the brazier, his head lowered.
The intense heat singed a few strands of his hair.
Crackle, crackle—the sparks in the brazier popped as embers flew.
Some embers landed on Avnair's face, but they didn't seem to bother him as he sat, lost in thought.
He thought over and over again.
Should he curse everything just because it didn't make sense?
Or should he accept it?
Accept what?
What was there to accept?
That luck wasn't on his side?
If not luck, then how did they escape?
What happened to Galaf and the Junior-Knights?
They were sent to intercept.
That was the second plan, a contingency for capturing a small elite force.
But the plan had been cut off before it could even begin.
He had sent them to capture a few prominent individuals from the enemy ranks and return, but had they been captured instead?
But how could that be possible?
Galaf, who could grasp a river in his hands?
And what about those assassins from the clan?
What happened to them?
They were supposed to pick off the enemy Commanders, but there had been no commotion in the enemy lines.
They had disappeared without a trace.
How could this have happened?
'Did Naurillia send Knights?'
"Nilf!"
His thoughts spilled from his mouth in an instant.
"Was it Knights? The Red Capes? Cyprus?"
He shouted the names of those notorious in Aspen, but it was meaningless.
One of Nilf's most important tasks was keeping an eye on Naurillia's affairs.
They couldn't have sent Knights right now.
That was the conclusion.
"No, sir."
Nilf's voice was impossibly low.
Avnair fell silent once again.
His mind searched and probed through possibilities, but no answers emerged.
The truth was, unless he knew that the man named Encrid had been repeating this same scenario over and over, he wouldn't have understood what had happened.
Avnair ran his hands over his forehead and hair, then exhaled heavily.
"We've lost."
A clean defeat.
When considering all the possibilities, the enemy had too many options at their disposal.
Perhaps they grew to the level of Knights during the fight.
Or maybe they were Knights from the start, and they just hadn't realized it.
If that were the case, then what happened to Galaf and the Junior-Knights was inevitable.
That's the conclusion about what happened on Galaf and the Junior-Knights' side.
The Assassin Clan was taken down in return.
Could the Fairies have intervened?
He had heard that there was a Fairy swordsman among the enemy forces.
However, no matter how skilled a Fairy might be, it wouldn't have been an easy task.
Fine, let's assume they had some hidden talents.
And Encrid, Encrid, Encrid.
Avnair repeated the name three times in his mind.
The man named Encrid slipped away.
He truly couldn't understand it.
How could a person manage something like that?
Maybe he really was blessed with luck.
If not, then…
'A genius of instinctive judgment.'
A Commander who moves by instinct rather than intellect.
He had heard of such people before.
But he thought there could never be such a person.
Instinct is the culmination of experience.
You can't strategize by relying solely on intuition.
You might get lucky and sense the flow of a battle once or twice, but intuition still requires basic knowledge to be effective.
Only then can instinct become a basis for judgment.
In other words, only with enough experience can one feel that ominous sense.
But the opponent wasn't some late-blooming genius, nor was he a Commander who had roamed battlefields his entire life.
Even the most veteran of Commanders couldn't pull off something like this.
Even if someone had wandered a thousand battlefields, they could be captured and killed.
Yet, he had slipped through.
"I can't just give up because I don't understand."
Avnair muttered.
He had exhausted all his options, but there was still one card left that could cost him his life.
"Are you going to use it?"
Nilf asked, knowing the answer.
Avnair nodded, also aware of what it meant.
"I started this, so I have to see it through to the end."
When Avnair had borrowed wizards and Junior-Knights from the Royal King, he had brought along an unexpected ally.
But using it would be tantamount to admitting his defeat.
When he returned to the duchy, he would face a barrage of criticism.
He might not be able to maintain his previous position.
If he wasn't executed, he'd be lucky.
But even so, he couldn't let this end in defeat.
Avnair stepped outside.
'This might be the first time I've ever lost this badly.'
None of the plans he had set in motion had come to fruition.
What had his original plan been?
His primary goal was to reduce the enemy's main force, which was represented by a small elite group.
The first target had been Encrid, and the second had been his subordinate units.
'I never expected Aya to fail.'
Her eyes were special.
In some ways, her eyes surpassed even Frog's ability to assess talent.
Her eyes, imbued with 'Will', could instantly discern the opponent's skill level.
Because of this, she earned the nickname "Aya, who never fights a losing battle".
Though she personally liked to call herself the most beautiful woman in Aspen.
'That Aya got taken down?'
It was something incomprehensible, but he had to force himself to understand it.
He couldn't stop here.
Junior Knight Aya was supposed to find her target and kill them.
Galaf was kept as a trump card for later.
Encrid was to be captured and killed.
That had been the primary goal.
But it wasn't the end.
There had been more to the plan.
He hadn't intended to end the battle by throwing a thousand soldiers at one enemy.
There had been a secondary objective as well.
'What a shame, what a pity.'
With this battle, Aspen could have at least made a return to the Green Pearl.
If the plan had gone as intended, that could have been the outcome.
It had been a strategy considering what would happen after capturing the enemy's elite unit, but now it was all meaningless.
What was left—was it pride, or was it regret?
He couldn't tell.
Avnair clenched his teeth.
* * *
"Is that just a sprain?"
At Encrid's question, Ragna raised his arm, which was wrapped roughly in torn clothing.
"It's a sprain."
Was it enough just to insist it was?
Is that how it worked?
Audin had also said it was a sprain, despite having a clearly broken bone, and Ragna's injury looked like something far more severe.
It was a serious wound, one that would render his arm useless without proper treatment.
Of course, Encrid wasn't in great shape either.
"My whole body's sprained."
Encrid said, glancing down at himself.
Ragna didn't even bother to laugh.
Esther, who was standing below, let out a low growl as if in disbelief.
Encrid made a joke that didn't land and then turned to look behind him.
There were no signs of their pursuers.
Had they gotten away?
It seemed that way.
The ominous presence that had loomed over them, the unsettling sensation that had been prickling his entire body, was gone.
So now, what should they do?
Was it time to feel relieved?
Maybe.
"Hey-yaaaa!"
From afar, a loud voice echoed.
It was a powerful woman's voice.
Squinting, Encrid saw Dunbachel running toward them.
Dunbachel's entire body was covered in blood.
His white fur was stained, making her look like a dark crimson beast.
The mix of white and dark red created a mottled, patchy appearance.
'She looks like a spotted cat.'
Encrid had a trivial thought.
She came running as if flying.
Behind her, the movement of their allies could be seen.
It was thanks to Krais, who couldn't hold back and sent the troops.
"Fiance, is this what happens when I take my eyes off you?"
Sinar followed behind Dunbachel.
Despite lightly kicking off the ground, she moved with incredible speed.
It was the typical light-footedness of a Fairy.
As she approached, she spoke, and only then did Encrid realize it.
'Tomorrow.'
The day was drawing to a close.
The elongated sun cast long shadows beneath the hills.
It was the time when the light that illuminated everything faded, disappearing beyond the west.
The sunset, blending with orange hues, spoke of today, which was different from yesterday.
Encrid savored that light.
He had survived, struggled, and was now ready to face tomorrow.
"Let's go back."
Encrid's mouth opened.
No one knew exactly what Encrid had been through.
It was impossible to know in detail.
However, the battalion soldiers had seen Encrid fight.
They knew he had charged into the enemy lines, swinging his sword like a madman, alone at the front.
For those cursed to repeat 'today', it was an old event, but for them, it was just a day or two ago.
Waaaah!
The cheers ripped through the air.
It was a song of praise for the hero who had pierced through the enemy and returned alive.
"Pain!"
"Death!"
The insignificant slogans followed.
To Encrid, it all felt distant.
The sounds seemed to grow more and more faint.
He wondered why, and then realized his body was slowly tipping over.
At that moment, someone beside him propped him up.
It was, unexpectedly, Ragna, offering his shoulder.
"Idiot."
Encrid said, looking at Ragna.
With the sunset behind them, the two injured men leaned on each other.
Ragna wasn't in a condition to walk properly either.
The fact that he had made it this far was a miracle.
"Grrrrr."
Esther, below, shook her head.
It was as if she was calling them foolish humans.
"Come on."
Dunbachel stepped forward.
She was also exhausted.
There were so many skilled fighters among the enemy.
She hadn't been on the brink of death, but she was physically drained.
Still, she wasn't in such bad shape that she'd collapse from walking.
Dunbachel went ahead and lifted Encrid onto her back.
The soft fur of the beastwoman floated Encrid's body.
"Wow, you're soft."
Encrid said in a daze.
She really was soft.
"Did you take some drugs while fighting or what?"
Dunbachel grumbled.
Encrid glanced back again.
The enemy forces visible beyond the distant hill hadn't advanced any further.
"I could have carried him."
Sinar muttered beside them, but Dunbachel ignored her and kept walking.
Ragna, who had been stumbling as he tried to help, finally collapsed.
A few soldiers nearby helped Ragna.
The fact that he had walked this far was miraculous in itself.
There wasn't much of his body that wasn't injured.
Waaaaah?
The cheers soon died down.
They weren't chasing the enemy, and seeing the state of those who had returned, it was a wonder they could even walk.
Among the cheers, the more perceptive ones were the first to step forward.
"Make way!"
"Bring them inside!"
"Medic!"
The soldiers swiftly did what needed to be done.
Their Commander took charge and led the way.
Encrid and Ragna were brought into the camp.
Following behind, Esther shook her head internally as she looked at Encrid's condition.
It looked like he'd crossed dozens of death lines.
On the surface, Ragna seemed more injured, but in reality, Encrid was in worse shape.
Some of his bones were cracked or misaligned.
It was a sign of how much he had pushed himself.
Not that Ragna was in good condition, either.
But Esther didn't care much about Ragna to begin with.
As the sun set and evening descended, they received treatment within the camp, along with care from Garrett, whose eyes sparkled eagerly.
Though he was supposed to be caring for them, his real intention lay elsewhere.
"Your mouth isn't hurt, right? You must have a lot of interesting stories."
He was basically asking to be told a story.
Sinar, overhearing this, squeezed her knife and spoke.
"You should learn how to show respect to an injured person who led us to victory."
She looked ready to hit him if he kept pushing.
Garrett was quick to catch on.
"Nurat, did I mess up?"
As always, his adjutant, Nurat, had his back.
She answered promptly.
"Yes, and if you stay any longer, you might find your superior replaced."
"Replaced? Why?"
"If they die, of course."
"Let's go."
What was he, a comedian?
Encrid, wrapped in bandages, watched the two of them banter.
"Tell me next time."
Garrett said as he left.
"Focus on getting better."
Sinar added, standing nearby for reasons only she knew.
"Aren't you going?"
Encrid asked.
"I'm getting sleepy."
"Go ahead, sleep. I'll just watch you sleep for a bit."
Fairy humor was still something he wasn't used to.
Encrid gradually let go of his consciousness.
Returning to camp amidst cheers—truth be told, his memories were already scattered.
He'd pushed his body to its limit.
Now inside the medical tent, he had eaten a bit of porridge, slathered on some ointment, and applied herbal patches all over his body before lying down.
His whole body felt feverish.
He would've been offended if anyone claimed they were tougher than him.
Encrid fell asleep.
As he closed his eyes, he saw a black river.
The ferryman was there.
"The first is torment, the second is ignorance, and the third is despair."
Encrid had no idea what that meant.
Today, the ferryman was more somber than usual, and Encrid was so tired that even in his dreams, he couldn't move his mouth to respond.
[T/L: Please support me AND read further chapters here: https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans.]
[T/L: Subscribe for a membership on my Buy Me a Coffee page and receive 15 extra chapters upon joining, along with daily updates of one chapter: buymeacoffee.com/revengerscans ]
[Additional Info: If anyone is facing the issue of payment on Ko-Fi, please contact me on revengerscans1@gmail.com]