Normally, members of Zaun would have no reason to faithfully follow the words of someone other than the Family Head.
"What's that guy saying?"
They should have reacted like this and not listened with even half an ear.
However, this was also timing when instructions or commands were needed, and it was also Enkrid, so it was fine. More precisely, it would be good to say that no resistance naturally arose.
During this time, Enkrid had mingled with them, eating, sleeping, and wielding swords.
Especially the time spent mingling while wielding swords had been truly dense.
Even though he was an outsider and stranger, Enkrid was the human who possessed colors that harmonized better than anyone with the foundation called Zaun.
In any case, Enkrid had finished preparing to draw the sword called Zaun from its sheath and wield it, and it was just when Anahera had begun combat and the monsters arrayed before the Family Head, Alexandra, and Rynox were starting to move.
The monster horde closing distance toward the wall the Family Head had created formed a certain pattern centered on Scalers. They weren't simply charging—they were building an encirclement.
If Enkrid had seen it, he would have sincerely praised whoever had trained the monsters in such movements.
Ragna hadn't heard Enkrid's instructions, so he stood behind the Family Head in what was initially, perhaps, an ambiguous position.
"Father."
Ragna called to his father, who showed his back. His gaze was forward and his great sword was drawn, hanging down toward the ground.
Outwardly, it appeared to be a meaningless posture, but it was a stance from which he could draw his sword at any time. If necessary, he would fight at any moment.
That posture was remarkably similar to his father's. It had to be, since Ragna had learned the sword by watching his father.
He had aimed for his father as his goal and gripped a sword while being beaten by his mother. That was Ragna's beginning.
"Speak."
His father, showing his back, answered. The monsters were approaching. He wouldn't die to such things, but this might be Zaun's last moment. That would soon be his father's last as well.
"What do you want to leave for future generations? What have you left?"
Perhaps it had transferred from Enkrid. Suddenly he was curious about his opponent's dreams. Especially what his father desired.
"My body can no longer recover. I know my body well."
An unhesitating answer returned. It seemed as if he had been preparing to say this.
His father's answer might sound like useless words at first glance, but if his father's judgment was that this was what needed to be said now, Ragna had to listen.
"Take Sunrise. But give up the family."
Tempest knew his body was no longer what it once was. So when the opportunity came to directly say what he had conveyed to Enkrid, he didn't want to miss it.
Still showing his back, he continued speaking.
"I will entrust the family to Odinkar."
Was this said to lighten Ragna's heart? Just from the tone, it was utterly indifferent.
Wasn't he speaking as if buying some candy somewhere and giving it away?
Both the Family Head's position and Sunrise—things that couldn't be discussed so casually—yet that's how it sounded.
It wasn't that he lacked sincerity. His father had one old habit because he couldn't put emotion into his words.
It was a secret known only to a few like his mother and Grida, but it wasn't something grand just because it was a secret.
Those who knew, knew. Ragna had also known it intellectually until now.
'Now I understand.'
His father's resolve now penetrated deeper. The blade scraped bone beyond skin and muscle.
His father always spoke with sincerity. If he didn't speak, one couldn't tell, but when he opened his mouth, he only spoke with sincerity.
Unable to express emotions yet loving his wife, family, and house, the method he chose was to put sincerity into every word.
Even if he told a child he loved them a hundred times, children would look at him with indifference, so the child's father had to do his utmost with what he could do.
That was putting only sincerity into every word.
This was also Tempest Zaun's will and vow.
The method his father chose touched his son's heart. He was sincere.
The son who had wandered outside and lost his way had grown and returned, so now he could understand his father's heart and listen to his words.
He couldn't give him the family. Because Ragna's home was no longer Zaun.
The reason he left Odinkar behind, who would risk his life fighting for Zaun, was probably the same. He would lead the family in his place.
And to Ragna, his own son, he gave Sunrise and freedom.
"Then this fight will probably be my last duty, Father."
Ragna answered in tune with his father's rhythm. The hidden meaning within was probably that he respected his father's will.
"And my wish is a stable fence. It would be even better if there were no curses or diseases."
The Family Head spoke again.
"No one will be able to interfere with Father's dreams."
Ragna answered.
Different conversations mysteriously interlocked and concluded with words for each other.
And the monsters surged like a tide, and Ragna reflexively guarded the Family Head's back while waiting for Enkrid's words.
He believed Enkrid would tell him what was needed.
So now he just needed to wait.
'For orders.'
Ragna said inwardly and stepped back.
* * *
What should one do when one's dreams and another's desires intersect?
Naturally, it must be discussed by the laws of the continent.
The strong one is the answer.
As the Empire did, and as the world Enkrid experienced was, ultimately only the victor's dreams would remain.
This place was the same now. Someone dreams of change and someone tries to protect what they have.
"Foolish actions."
The one dreaming of change spoke.
"Heskal, you have never beaten me even once."
The one trying to protect also spoke in return.
Though they hadn't spoken directly, it was no different from such a conversation taking place.
Don't they converse through actions with each other?
Whoosh.
The rain's chorus still hadn't stopped its song.
Rumble!
The occasional lightning added strength to the orchestra called war.
Wit, knowledge, and strength compete. That's what war is.
Enkrid had sent out Anahera and Kata. Both were superior to anyone in speed of foot.
And on this side, there was also a man who couldn't use his feet but wouldn't easily yield to the two in sword skill.
"Rilee is the center! Ivan, Lennon, Rontis, go stand on the left! Those who mingled with the three, line up on your own! On the right, Betty, Ludens, Karl will support. You are the pillars! Fight thinking you're guarding the rear! If you're breached, we lose!"
The tool called instinct draws upon experience and information to pull out even what lies dormant in the unconscious to find answers.
The current Enkrid was the same. The time spent rolling around and sparring in Zaun hadn't been in vain—the path naturally showed itself.
He knew Zaun. Even if he didn't know everything, he knew enough to command.
'Still, it's ominous.'
The instinct stimulating his mind felt like it was stabbing his eyeballs.
Hissssss!
The Scaler horde spread their voices. It was their specialty to disturb the senses.
Indeed, along with that sound, several Plague Maidens began floating in the air.
'They deliberately didn't send them toward the Family Head.'
Because if it were the Family Head who had become a wall or Alexandra, they would quickly cut down such specters with Will or some other means.
Heskal certainly knew how to manipulate the battlefield. Sending necessary forces to necessary places.
Specters spreading disease summoned by spells floated and approached.
"Take it out and scatter it."
Enkrid spoke while watching the specters.
Anne wasn't a fool, and Enkrid was even less of a fool. The two had prepared because they had already experienced it.
While Enkrid spent time in sparring and training, Anne invested time in finding medicinal herbs and making medicine.
Thus, she had given amber powder lumps to those departing.
Centered on Rilee, everyone took out powder and applied it to their swords.
"Everyone dressed up, now dance!"
Though ominousness stabbed his mind and the situation couldn't be called favorable.
"It will be thrilling."
As Luagarne had once said, Enkrid felt pleasure while moving those around him.
On a battlefield called a fighting ground, wielding troops was like wielding a sword.
'Won't lose.'
While feeling elation, resolve to absolutely never lose also welled up from his lower abdomen.
"What crazy talk is that?"
Even in this situation, Rilee reacted to Enkrid's nonsense while drawing a throwing dagger and extending his right hand backward. He said it was throwing technique he had carefully trained because his foot was inconvenient. Though different from Jaxen's method, his also had things to learn.
Supporting his body on one leg, he used his entire body like a launcher. With the foot that became an axis, his entire body whirled like a whirlwind as he extended the arm stretched behind his back forward like a whip.
Bang!
As his arm tore through the air, the dagger pierced through the heads of two approaching Plague Maidens as if it had teleported and disappeared beyond the storm.
It was a technique of throwing daggers using full-body muscles. Difficult to use consecutively. He gathered elasticity until the hand of the arm he swung touched the ground. So it could be called a technique that put one's whole heart into a single throw.
'Excellent.'
Enkrid calmly acknowledged him. Rilee was also a sword of Zaun. Though cut by Heskal, he didn't collapse and stood alone looking ahead.
It had become time for him too to leave his father's embrace.
'There is no tomorrow for those who don't advance.'
Rilee would see tomorrow. He had the qualifications for it.
Thud thud thud thud!
The lizard cavalry quickly charged within sword range.
Scalers riding lizards charged holding black wooden stick-like things in reverse grip. Without question, each of those sticks would be soaked in poison.
Then they began fighting mixed with those centered on Rilee.
"If you die before this cripple, you're an even bigger cripple!"
It was Rilee's shout.
It was spirit that tore through the Scalers' spreading hissss sound.
Encouragement that spread widely even amid the downpour.
Rilee—he had no campaign experience but had learned the sword from Heskal.
Also, because he had only one foot, he was very accustomed to training while coordinating with others.
He was the only talent in this place who could command even a small unit.
Look now—didn't he know how to raise ally morale right before fighting?
Of course, it was possible because Enkrid had set the stage.
"Hahahaha!"
Anahera's laughter could be heard from far away. The warrior who had become Zaun's adopted daughter from the giant race gripped and continuously swung a thick sword grip that ordinary people would find hard to hold.
Smack! Thunk, crack!
Anahera's great sword tore and shattered some of the lizard riders who kept their distance and charged.
"Den! Including you, pick ten and stir up that place!"
Enkrid drew his sword and pointed to one side.
Den was one of those who couldn't get their heads together. He had called him because he saw him draw his sword saying "Fuck, cripple" in response to Rilee's shout.
Den's fighting ability was just so-so, but he was well-regarded by those around him. He was also a friend of two of the four that Heskal had killed while leaving Zaun.
So he had also glared at Rilee with hatred.
Probably seeing Rilee step forward and fight like that made him feel embarrassed.
Even the cripple abandoned by his father is fighting, so what am I doing?
Perhaps such thoughts had occurred to him?
Whatever it was, since he had finished preparing to fight properly, he immediately drew and used his sword.
At Enkrid's shout, ten swordsmen including Den stepped forward. Each one stepped forward holding only a single sword.
These were Zaun itself. Excluding those who hadn't yet awakened their talents due to lack of time, each one would be called monsters the moment they stepped onto the continent.
Even while calling them and directing their movements, Enkrid's gaze constantly swept left and right.
Boom! Bang!
The Family Head showed even greater power than Anahera just by swinging his great sword to stab and cut at the charging monsters.
Moreover, he didn't retreat even one step.
Alexandra, standing beside him, was the same. She leaped, flew, and crawled within about five steps of where she stood.
And where she passed, monsters' arms, legs, and necks lay severed and rolling.
Rynox fought with two of his six swords drawn and held separately.
The sword in his left hand was an Estoc with a thin blade and particularly light weight, and the sword in his right hand was a single-edged sword in falchion form with a relatively thick blade.
He blocked with the Estoc and cut with the falchion. Just a simple tactic of sequentially blocking and cutting incoming attacks.
Yet the number of monsters that died before him was the highest among the three. Though he had seen it before, it was swordsmanship with much to learn.
'Deflect with the light sword and strike down with the heavy sword.'
He replaced the concept of blocking with deflection from flexible swordsmanship, and for attacks used heavy sword style that put maximum force into minimum movement.
Should one say this was befitting a man who destroys a hundred techniques and creates another hundred techniques?
Whoosh!
Suddenly the rain became heavier.
Was it because the Plague Maidens returned to their closets as soon as they appeared?
Though the scents and smells of battle were thick, he could sense those with thick sweet scents among them.
Spells hadn't poured down yet, and though rain fell like this, his sharply honed instinct caught faint scents.
Zaun had Knights, and Heskal was very clever. Starting a fight knowing there were Knights—wouldn't he have prepared?
This would be one of those preparations.
That fellow Dremül was indeed the monster who proclaimed himself god and spread disease, the source of threat, but.
'Heskal is the one who drew this battle.'
And his picture hadn't been ruined yet. That's how Enkrid saw it.