At dawn, both armies began to move.
The two forces were positioned similarly to yesterday.
The stage was the wide-open plain, and the blowing wind was the silent observer.
Instead of those who had stepped forward before, archers, infantry, and some cavalry were now forming their ranks.
Though it wasn't prearranged, both Commanders at the front seemed to have decided to use the sunrise as their signal.
Encrid observed this while walking.
His steps were as light as if he were merely taking a stroll.
But it wasn't just a stroll.
He was fully armed with three swords and a Whistle Dagger.
There were some differences this time, though. The positions of his swords had slightly changed.
Silver was at his left waist, Ember at his right.
Each was placed to match the characteristics of his hands, and the Gladius was strapped behind his back so that it hung vertically from a hook on his belt.
Since the blade had been shortened a bit during the last battle, it was now more comfortable to carry this way.
It was a sword shortened by about two finger widths.
'I wonder if the Dwarf who made this would be upset?'
After all, weren't they always proud of their weapons?
Just like Fairies took pride in the trees, flowers, and plants they nurtured and were called the children of trees and flowers, Dwarves were known as the children of steel and flame.
Giants proved themselves through blood and carnage, thus earning the title of the children of hot blood.
Beastmen, who hunted for survival, were called the children of the mountains and fields.
Dragons, who stood alone, were said to be parentless.
Frogs, who staked everything on their dreams, were called the children of dreams.
Humans, without any particular symbol, were said to be capable of becoming anything.
These were idle thoughts.
As Encrid walked alongside the army, he checked his gear.
The positions of his swords, the condition of his sword belt, and how the sword on his back affected his movement—he adjusted everything again to avoid hindrance.
'Block, dodge, strike.'
Deceive, strike, and slash.
It was an imaginary battle, a mental rehearsal of the fight he'd had yesterday.
If someone saw him flailing his arms and legs as he walked, they'd think he was a madman, but no one glared at him or voiced any complaints.
"Are you fighting with us again today?"
In fact, there was even a soldier who bravely asked.
It was a group of troops who had stopped while moving to form their formation.
With about fifty men, it was the size of a company. The Commander at the front asked, and fifty pairs of eyes turned toward him.
Encrid nodded.
He was certain he would fight the same opponent from yesterday.
It was an instinct, but he was confident.
Though his opponent had said he lost, the fire in his eyes had not diminished in the slightest. He would return.
After finishing his mental rehearsal and adjustments, Encrid was joined by Rem, Jaxon, Ragna, and Dunbachel.
"Look at that, it's cloudy again."
Rem said.
Encrid, having finished his review and adjustments, also looked at the sky.
It didn't look like it would rain immediately, but it was indeed cloudy.
Dark clouds were steadily approaching from the distance, moving fast enough that you could visibly track their movement.
Still, the smell of rain hadn't reached them yet. Dunbachel, twitching her nose, spoke.
"It won't rain until tomorrow."
Ragna didn't seem to have much of an opinion, and Jaxon wasn't the type to express himself through facial expressions.
He was, as usual, expressionless, impossible to read.
Rem, on the other hand, grinned mischievously and said excitedly,
"We're gonna be crapping blood."
Encrid nodded in agreement with Rem's words. It was a statement that made sense.
The battlefield would be brutal and difficult. He had already discussed this with Rem earlier that morning.
"Do you know?"
Rem had asked.
"Know what?"
Encrid responded.
"If they had attacked right after yesterday's battle, we would've been in much worse shape."
There was no need for an explanation. He understood it instinctively and mentally.
The enemy had formed their ranks, and while his side appeared to have done the same, the unity of command was shaky at best.
Yet, the enemy had retreated.
Why?
Was it because their heads were only useful for holding helmets? That didn't seem likely. That would have been too simple. It had to be more.
They must have had something prepared.
'A plan they could afford to delay by a day.'
Encrid had expressed similar thoughts to Marcus after reaching the same conclusion.
Naturally, Marcus had understood the situation as well.
"Of course. But it also gave us an opportunity. We needed the time."
They were outnumbered and undertrained. The enemy had a unified command structure, while their own was still creaking and unsteady.
Of course, thanks to Encrid's actions, some of that creaking had been greased in just one day.
Just having someone like him on their side brought comfort and strength to the soldiers.
The heat and desire now surged in the right direction.
Marcus had utilized all of that. He had even used all the arrangements Krang had informed them about. That's why crows had been flying all night without rest.
In other words, the enemy had taken an extra day to prepare, but so had his own side.
"That's why we even roasted meat."
Encrid's reverie faded at Rem's words. What did he mean by that?
It meant that Rem had cooked up his battle tactics with eager anticipation.
Even when he captured and killed the Immortal Madman, Rem had been full of dissatisfaction.
Why wouldn't he be?
It hadn't been a proper fight but rather a chase after a fleeing foe.
Rem had wanted to fight.
He wanted to battle until the blood flowed freely.
Desire and longing burned within him, wanting to be unleashed without restraint.
It was like a campfire stacked high with logs, ready to blaze out of control.
'I'll fight until nothing remains.'
To burn one's soul in battle—that was the mark of a true warrior.
Encrid looked at Rem.
'What's gotten into him?'
He seemed a little too fired up today.
It was natural, of course, but Ragna also sensed the intensity, and so did Jaxon.
Neither of them said anything. Dunbachel seemed deep in thought, while Esther was perched above them with one eye.
Both forces stood on the brink of the range of arrows.
The Commanders of both armies shouted in unison, like twins.
"Fire!"
Arrows flew first. It was the signal to begin the battle.
Doom-doom-doom-doom-doom!
Booooooo!
The sound of drums and horns filled the plain as arrows blanketed the sky above.
The allied army had five hundred longbowmen, the enemy had over a thousand.
The arrows from both sides reached their targets.
They used strong, straight wood, like oak and pine, carefully shaped into shafts, with steel tips and fletching attached with glue.
These sharp, short wooden sticks stole the lives of men.
Thud!
A soldier, unlucky enough to take an arrow through a gap in his helmet, collapsed. But there weren't too many of those unfortunate ones.
The infantry at the front raised their shields at an angle to withstand the barrage.
"Chargeeeee!"
The enemy was the first to move. From the beginning, Marcus had prepared to counter, so the result was to be expected. A group of cavalry broke away from the enemy formation, coming from the center-right side of the Count's army.
"Charge!"
The cavalry was armed with lances. They were attempting a charge.
If the cavalry managed to break a hole in the formation, that alone could lead to defeat.
For the Kingdom's forces, the only chance of victory lay in stopping every one of the enemy's attacks.
"Move, hurry! Get there! Form up!"
The allied Commanders' voices rang out. One Commander quickly identified the point where the cavalry charge would strike and gave orders for a group of infantry to move into position.
It was the same Commander who had spoken to Encrid earlier.
His voice rang out once more.
"Piiikes! Brace!"
Whung-whung!
The soldiers raised their pikes high. They planted the ends of the long spears into the ground, pushing them forward.
Pikes are long spears, and these soldiers were trained to perform this move in unison.
The pikes formed a wall—a spear wall, the best defense against a cavalry charge.
It was already too late for the enemy cavalry to turn.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
With a thunderous sound like rolling thunder, the lead horses hurled themselves into the spear wall.
Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam!
The spear tips pierced through both rider and horse.
Blood splattered everywhere, and the sound of breaking bones echoed.
The horses fell, and some riders were thrown aside.
The speed of the charging cavalry had become their own death sentence.
"Aaaahh!"
"Aaaargh!"
The screams announced that this place had become hell.
Among the fallen riders, those who barely survived were quickly stabbed and slashed by allied soldiers drawing their longswords.
Thud!
Slash!
"Die!"
"Damn it!"
Meanwhile, a few cavalrymen managed to pierce through gaps in the spear wall.
The sheer weight of the mounted cavalry was a weapon in itself. It was common for soldiers to be crushed to death under the weight of a horse.
It wasn't unusual—if one of your limbs broke under that pressure, survival was unlikely.
Several cavalrymen crashed into the spear wall, creating gaps. Soldiers standing by quickly thrust their spears into the gaps, sealing them off.
"Charge! Chaaaarge!"
The enemy cavalry pressed forward with their numbers, yet the infantry who formed the spear wall held firm.
The soldiers fighting in the thick of it might not have known, but from a Commander's perspective, it was a major victory.
The start had gone well.
Marcus clenched his fist in satisfaction.
But then the enemy made another move. A group of cavalry broke away from their ranks once more.
'They've prepared for everything, haven't they?'
This time, it was a unit of mounted archers. There weren't many, only about fifty. However, their mobility wouldn't be easy to match.
'Even if they just fire arrows while retreating...'
Each of them was skilled enough for that. On the first day, their leader had foolishly charged and died by Encrid's blade, but these were competent fighters.
In fact, it would be more accurate to say that this unit itself posed a significant threat.
The mounted archers aimed for the Kingdom's Commanders.
It was a well-trained unit, worthy of acknowledgment.
This was likely the Count's first 'sword' in reserve.
Encrid's gaze shifted toward them.
In the vast plain, the movement of cavalry was naturally easy to spot.
'If left unchecked, they'll deal a lot of damage.'
Though Encrid understood this, it wasn't the right time for him to act.
'Marcus isn't an idiot.'
Having watched the strategy meeting yesterday, he knew that the subordinate Commanders were competent as well.
Before he even finished his thought, a group of allied cavalry had already set off.
There were only about a dozen of them, but leading the charge was a rider with striking orange hair.
Whirl!
Red capes fluttered in the wind.
It was Asia and a group of Squires.
Although they weren't borrowing the power of Knights, these troops had once been part of the royal forces.
"For Naurillia!"
Asia shouted. She and her Squires charged forward, swiftly closing the gap and chasing after the mounted archers.
The enemy fired arrows as they retreated. Asia raised her sword, deflecting the most dangerous arrows with her blade.
She twisted her wrist, using her sword without even needing the help of her shield.
And finally, she caught up with them, taking hold of their rear.
With a swift swing, she decapitated one of them. Before the head could even hit the ground, her sword had already pierced the back of another.
She dashed to the side, thrusting and slashing her sword mercilessly.
Her momentum was terrifying.
"Fight to the end!"
As the mounted archers were cut down to half their number, a group of enemy cavalry emerged and charged at the group of Asia.
But that wasn't the end.
The enemy infantry began advancing, and among them, several soldiers of exceptional skill approached, targeting Asia and her Squires.
* * *
As the enemy infantry began to surge, several skilled fighters started to stand out, and Rem began to move as well.
"I'll go ahead!"
The moment Rem kicked off the ground, his body seemed to elongate as he propelled himself forward at an incredible speed.
It was a movement that required finesse.
Of course, Encrid could do it too.
It was a matter of using one's strength, often referred to as 'great strength', to press into the ground. Instead of jumping upward, the force was transferred forward.
However, it wasn't something easily done.
Encrid had practiced countless times to master the technique.
Rem rushed toward an enemy who had broken away from the infantry.
The enemy saw him and turned to charge directly at him.
The enemy wielded two hammers.
Rem drew his axe and swung it, while the enemy brought down his hammers.
Clang!
With a deafening crash, the infantry nearby parted, giving them space.
In that moment, Encrid noticed a shadow emerging from behind Rem.
A soldier who had been hiding among the retreating infantry lunged forward with a stab.
His movements were incredibly swift, and the thrust was shockingly fast and sharp.
It was an unexpected moment, but Rem twisted his body and dodged.
The blade grazed his lower back, and as he evaded, Rem swung his axe downward, forcing his opponent to retreat.
There was no need to intervene. If it became dangerous, Rem could handle himself, and if not, he would win. That was Rem standing there.
"Let's start cutting down their numbers."
Encrid shifted his gaze away from Rem and muttered.
"That barbarian sure knows how to pick the juiciest targets."
Ragna stepped forward as he spoke.
He was heading toward one flank of the enemy infantry.
He walked with steady steps. The Madmen Platoon had moved out to one side of the allied formation, but they were small in number and didn't draw much attention.
Everyone was becoming intoxicated with the madness of collective battle.
Encrid watched Ragna's back.
It is often said that Knights are a calamity upon a thousand men.
Then what about Ragna, who had become so close to that ideal of a Knight?
He wasn't injured, nor was he tired. He had filled his belly well the previous night.
Ragna slipped into the enemy infantry's side. No, it looked more like he melded into them. He walked and made contact.
In a battle like this, there was no need to find a path.
All he had to do was cut down anything that looked like an enemy.
Wherever Ragna touched, the soldiers collapsed like bundles of straw, strewn across the ground.
Slash!
His sword moved. An enemy soldier's head flew off. There were no screams, no shock.
They didn't even realize when they had died.
As Ragna calmly swung his sword, the number of enemies began to dwindle.
One by one, soldiers fell, and before long, so many had died in such a short time that the enemy became aware of Ragna.
But that changed nothing.
Knowing only made it worse.
It was as if the Grim Reaper had descended among common soldiers.
Encrid observed a few figures moving within the enemy ranks and spoke. He noticed some of the enemy soldiers were moving with purpose.
"Jaxon?"
"Leave them to me."
It was clear he intended to handle it himself.
The enemy wasn't stupid. Five monsters weren't the only threat—there were Sub-Commanders blending in among the regular soldiers, moving stealthily.
It was an effective tactic.
By hiding specialized forces among the common troops, they could steadily whittle down the allied forces.
No matter how dominant their formation was, a few elite soldiers could turn the tide of the battle.
It was the right move to stop them before that happened.
Jaxon began tracking and targeting the skilled fighters among the enemy one by one.
Meanwhile, Encrid began walking toward the enemy lines again.
"What's with this guy?!"
As Encrid approached the part of the enemy formation that had yet to engage in battle, an enemy soldier shouted in alarm but did not rush recklessly to break ranks.
Encrid ignored him and kept walking.
A massive shadow loomed before him. It was cast by a man standing with his back to the sun. He was huge—larger even than Audin.
"My name is Benukt. I am a Giant."
His voice boomed as if echoing from a cave.
He didn't need to say he was a Giant. Anyone could tell from the moment he appeared.
The man advanced, thrusting his two fists forward, and assumed a stance.
His posture reminded Encrid of Audin.
Encrid raised his sword high. The silver blade gleamed, not in the sunlight, but in the shadow, revealing its naked edge.
The two locked into their stances, reading each other's breath. No, they were trying to. Both watched, seeking the optimal moment to seize the advantage.
In that tense moment, Encrid asked a question.
"What about your Commander?"
It was a question asking whether he had taken the place of his leader.
Benukt, who had been poised to strike at any moment, unleashed the full force of his Giant strength.
Boom!
He kicked off the ground, turning his body into a missile.
With a rush of wind, he folded the space between them, aiming to strike Encrid with his shoulder.
This was the moment they clashed.
Bang!
A thunderous sound echoed between them, like the beating of a drum.
All eyes from the advancing enemy infantry turned toward the two of them.
Dust rose from the ground, but soon, their forms became visible.
Neither had given an inch.
They had collided, and the impact was intense, but both had absorbed the blow and held their ground.
Encrid understood what he needed to know from that one clash.
This Giant, Benukt, was not as formidable as his size suggested.
It wasn't arrogance, nor confidence. It was a cold, objective assessment.