The course of the battlefield shifted with a single sparring session.
Rem was exhilarated.
Ragna, feeling challenged, ignited his fighting spirit.
Audin, through his sparring match with Enkrid, felt as though he had received an answer to his long-standing questions.
His prayers to the Divine were always filled with questions, yet no answers ever came.
The Divine wielded silence as His weapon.
Finding answers within that silence was left to mortals.
However, there were times—rare, fleeting moments—when Audin believed that the Divine did provide answers.
Not with words spoken aloud, but through other means.
On that day, through the sparring session, Audin felt he had heard an answer from Enkrid. Or so it seemed to him.
“What can that man gain through such efforts? Will his struggles ever bear fruit?”
In no time, one man’s relentless effort seemed to touch upon the ancient dilemmas that had plagued Audin.
“Why, even though You command us to protect the weak, do You not protect them? Why do You not reward their efforts?”
Strength and weakness. Good and evil.
These age-old dilemmas.
Why did those he considered "evil" thrive?
And those he deemed "good" suffer?
He had witnessed the collapse of kind-hearted weaklings and noble strongmen.
In the sanctuaries—the cradles crafted by the Divine—he had seen evil prevail.
Why did the Divine allow such things to happen?
Why did He not mete out judgment?
Why did inquisitors, supposedly holy, only lash out at the powerless, binding them to carts with thorns?
Why did the Divine merely observe this as well?
Amid it all, there stood a man living with the reckless determination of trying to drink up an entire river.
Unchanging, always steadfast before him, as if rising anew each morning with the sunrise.
If the Divine truly existed, He ought to offer an answer.
He could not ignore someone who lived with such self-consuming devotion.
Was there truly Divine intervention that day?
Audin did not know. He could not say for certain.
But even if there hadn’t been, it didn’t matter.
Having known Enkrid, having spent his days alongside him, Audin had learned something.
“The questions lie within me.”
And so did the "answers."
Through that sparring session, he felt as though he had found answers to his questions.
To be honest and straightforward:
A sense of relief filled his chest.
So much so that he felt he could now crush a few enemy heads with this newfound clarity.
Thus, even Audin had joined the sparring match initiated by Enkrid.
He had brought Rem into it, and Ragna as well.
No one had known before, and no one would know after, but at that moment, it could be said that Enkrid’s relentless intensity had changed the direction of the battlefield.
His sparring had shaken the hearts of every soldier in the platoon, throwing them onto the battlefield with renewed vigor.
“Oh Divine, today I send to You those who will remain by Your side.”
Killing could be a sin.
But it might also not be.
All religions reflected the eras they existed in.
Audin was no different. His Divine did not shy away from killing.
In short, if necessary, he could do it. He could send those to the Divine’s side without holding back his strength.
Audin stepped forward decisively. The allied soldiers recognized him and murmured before falling silent.
“Those who have received coins from the goddess of fortune would do well to step aside.”
Audin spoke with kindness and mercy.
Only the fog allowed visibility just a few steps ahead.
One of the enemy soldiers spotted Audin and laughed mockingly.
“What, are you trying to mimic the Giant on our side?”
In a way, it was understandable. Audin faintly smiled.
He didn’t feel offended or upset.
There was no reason to let human displeasure intrude at this moment.
“I don’t bother impersonating others, brother.”
“Brother, my ass!”
They stood several paces apart, locked in a tense standoff. Audin slowly began counting.
“Five.”
No one understood the meaning of the count.
“What the hell are you mumbling about? Kill him!”
This battlefield had been ignited by the appearance of the Giant. The heat reached even the soldiers.
A soldier from Azpen’s army lunged forward, thrusting his spear.
Thunk.
Audin deflected the spearhead with the back of his hand, smoothly pushing it outward.
The spear veered off course, its energy dissipating.
The enemy soldier stumbled clumsily but caught his balance.
“Four.”
Audin continued his count.
“You bastard, what are you—”
The enemy soldier motioned with his hand, signaling his squad to encircle Audin.
Spears were the best weapon an infantryman could wield.
Now, ten spearheads were all aimed at Audin, overlapping in deadly precision.
“Three.”
Audin observed this and continued his count.
“You’ve got to be insane.”
Despite his words, the squad leader felt a chill down his spine and a growing knot in his stomach.
What had happened earlier?
How had this man deflected a spear with his bare hand?
Was he wearing something? He noticed Audin’s thin white gloves, but they didn’t seem like combat gauntlets.
And yet, his hands looked unnaturally large.
“Two.”
While the squad leader racked his brain, the count dwindled further.
Spitting on the ground, the leader barked:
“Kill him.”
The command dropped.
“One.”
The final number left Audin’s lips.
This was, in a sense, his last show of mercy.
It was compassion, offering a chance for those blessed by the goddess of fortune to step away.
“Just for today.”
Audin had resolved to answer the call of the War God.
He didn’t need to become an apostle of the War God, but today, he would invoke His name.
And if he was going to invoke the War God, he hoped for an opponent as formidable as the Giant.
If he was to fight, he wanted a true battle, a test of strength.
“Then.”
Amid the incoming spearheads, Audin uttered his final word.
As the word "one" fell, Audin revealed his weapon.
It wasn’t anything he could call his beloved weapon.
He had left his cherished blade behind when departing the sanctuary.
This was just a substitute.
A wooden club, oiled and polished.
It had no embedded studs, nor was it reinforced with metal.
But it was enough.
Whoosh.
To the enemy soldiers thrusting their spears, it seemed as though Audin had disappeared.
Of course, that wasn’t the case. He had bent backward, nearly lying flat on the ground, dodging the thrusts aimed at his chest.
Three spears, all aimed at his torso, missed entirely.
Audin, demonstrating agility unexpected for his build, pushed off the ground with his feet and stood upright.
As he rose, he swung his club in a wide arc.
Thwack!
The sweeping motion sent three spear shafts clattering to the side.
“Ahhh!”
The soldiers holding the spears stumbled, their stances broken. Audin stepped forward again, seizing the opportunity.
His club came down on an enemy soldier’s head.
Thunk!
One head shattered with a single blow.
Whoosh, thunk! Whoosh, thunk!
Each swing of the club crushed a head. Three heads burst open in rapid succession, as if they were nothing more than overripe melons.
Audin, despite his massive frame, moved with the speed of a squirrel.
The next sequence was no different. Whether it was a spear thrust, a thrown knife, or an arrow, Audin either dodged or caught it and returned it to its sender.
Each time he closed the distance, his club descended, and another head exploded.
The scene was almost absurd—human skulls seemed softer than pumpkins under Audin’s strikes.
A soldier from Naurillia’s army, watching from behind, muttered under his breath:
“That’s a monster.”
Dodge and strike. It was a simple concept.
But executing it like this? That was the realm of monsters.
Thunk. Another head burst open.
At first, Audin only used his club.
But as the enemy began firing arrows and launching desperate attacks, he started using his feet as well.
It felt like watching a cavalry charge.
Everything in his path was knocked aside.
“Hahaha!”
Amid the chaos, the monstrous man laughed heartily.
“May the War God’s blessing be with me!”
And then, another shout.
He seemed utterly insane.
To the soldiers of Naurillia watching him, however, there was a strange comfort.
After all, this lunatic was on their side.
“All units, charge!”
Recognizing the shifting momentum, the command staff ordered a full-on assault.
Audin continued his rampage in the heart of the enemy lines.
“You, stop right there!”
Even the elite soldiers of the Grey Dogs rushed in to confront him.
But—
“Welcome, brother!”
Audin feigned a strike with his club, then withdrew it, pivoted on his left foot, and lashed out with a kick.
Thud!
Crunch!
A mid-level kick, deceptively light, folded a man’s body in half.
The sheer power was unbelievable.
Had he fitted his leg with iron greaves?
One kick, and a man’s torso folded inward, his organs rupturing, his eyes bursting with blood as the vessels in his face burst.
The unfortunate soldier flew backward, knocking over several of his comrades.
“What the hell is that?”
The enemy soldiers were left dumbfounded.
Audin fought like an antlion’s pit, devouring everything that entered his range.
Everything.
***
The Fairy Company Commander locked eyes with the approaching opponent.
The opponent was also a fairy.
Meeting and fighting one’s own kind wasn’t all that unusual in these times.
The world had changed.
How many fairies still lived huddled together in forests as they did in the past?
A closed society inevitably leads to stagnation.
And when stagnation occurs, it is forgotten. Be it gods or fairies, everything forgotten eventually succumbs to the hands of invaders, losing their homes in the process.
The choices of the older generation of fairies had altered the lives of those who came after them.
Some had traded their age for Krona—a currency.
This often meant joining the military, whether as mercenaries or for some other form of compensation.
Thus, the Fairy Company Commander, Shinar, believed there was no fundamental difference between himself and his opponent.
Whether it was for Krona or for some other purpose.
Ultimately, the fact remained that when they met as enemies, they had to fight.
“A Needle Blade, is it?”
The Leaf Blade, known as Naidel, was for cutting.
The Needle Blade, or Needle, was for thrusting.
Both were weapons exclusive to the fairies. Now, two fairy blades, wielded for opposing purposes, were crossing paths.
“So, I wasn’t the only one of our kind here.”
The fairy from Azpen had a sharp gaze and a stern expression. His short hair and rigid mouth hinted at his stubbornness.
Then again, most fairies were stubborn by nature. Shinar could admit that about himself as well.
The tip of the opponent’s blade was stained red, drops of blood falling to the ground.
The soldiers had already formed a circle around the two of them, stepping back as if drawing a boundary.
On one side was the company commander.
On the other, a hidden blade prepared by the enemy army.
“If you run, I won’t chase you down to kill you,” the male fairy said.
Shinar, looking at the blood-stained Needle, unsheathed his own blade.
Ting.
The sound came from the Naidel, the Leaf Blade.
“That was my line to say first.”
Soon, the two clashed.
The duel didn’t last long. Shinar outmatched the other fairy by several levels.
Talent, skill, experience, and composure.
The male fairy couldn’t surpass Shinar in any of these.
After only a few exchanges, Shinar’s Leaf Blade grazed the opponent’s neck.
Shrrk!
Feeling the sensation in his hand, Shinar was certain of the other fairy’s death.
The defeated fairy clutched at his neck and collapsed forward.
Shinar, watching the scene, felt an unmistakable disgust.
“Bastards.”
It was bait.
The real attack was yet to come.
While Shinar was occupied with the duel, he sensed at least three murderous presences targeting him.
The enemy had used bait to draw his attention, intending to strike from behind.
This method of assassinating commanders was all too clear.
Their goal was painfully obvious.
The only variable was that reinforcements hadn’t arrived in time to save the fallen soldier.
That was why he had died with his eyes wide open.
“Disgusting.”
Of course, on the battlefield, being "disgusting" could be a strength—if it worked.
Unfortunately for the enemy, they had lost the chance to display their vile tactics.
The killing intent he had sensed earlier disappeared.
There were two possible reasons.
One: the enemy had given up and fled.
Two: an external force had intervened.
It was the latter.
A man was wiping his blade on the dead fairy’s clothes.
His brown eyes had a faint red hue, matching the color of his auburn hair.
Not a single drop of blood stained his moderately long hair.
No, Shinar, the Fairy Company Commander, had never seen that man covered in blood.
He was always clean.
Ah, except for that time he came out of the brothel with his clothes in disarray.
Shinar had seen him like that once—just after finishing his “business” with a woman.
“Here, huh?”
“Nothing else to do.”
Shinar’s question was met with a nonchalant reply from Jaxon.
What else would you expect from Jaxon?
Seeing Enkrid’s growth, Jaxon couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. If he were around, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back from mentioning it.
It made his mouth itch—and his hands too.
He wanted to release that itch somewhere, and it seemed as though some unfortunate targets had stepped up to the task.
Jaxon, emerging from the fog, followed behind the Fairy Company Commander.
And slit the throats of the three assassins targeting Shinar.
It wasn’t difficult.
The assassins were fairies, and by ordinary standards, their skills were exceptional. But to Jaxon, they were just average.
They weren’t formally trained; instead, they relied on natural talent honed through practice.
In that sense, they were the easiest type of opponents for Jaxon to handle.
“Leaving your commander behind?” asked the fairy.
Jaxon tilted his head in response.
“If he were the type to die in a place like this, he would have died long ago.”
It was high praise.
It was as good as saying he trusted Enkrid completely.
There was no longer any need to keep watching him.
“Next time.”
Rather than focusing on his steps, it was time to teach something else.
Once instincts were sharpened, what came next?
When the sixth sense had opened...
“Observe carefully and react accordingly.”
It was something that still required time and effort to master.
Had Jaxon ever properly taught such things before?
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He didn’t think so.
“Hah.”
Lost in thought, Jaxon sighed at how serious he was being.
To be honest, there was no need to teach it at all.
The Fairy Company Commander noticed the sigh.
“This battalion commander isn’t a fool. He knows how to read the flow and fight accordingly.”
Did she think he was sighing because the troops hadn’t advanced?
That wasn’t it.
Jaxon was just adept at hiding his thoughts.
The Fairy Company Commander didn’t misinterpret his sigh. That lunatic platoon leader wouldn’t care about such things.
He just happened to be there, having displayed his skills by dispatching three assassins.
Her comment was about the shifting tide of the battle.
Her words reached not Jaxon, but the surrounding soldiers.
The momentum would change, bringing victory to their side.
“All units, form ranks.”
At her command, five company soldiers who had been following her as a guard quietly stood behind her.
The moment her words ended, the sound of war horns echoed from all directions, and messengers began to run.
As she had predicted.
Marcus knew how to seize the flow of battle.