As soon as Enkrid left, Marcus secretly summoned the Border Defense Commander.

“Are we ready?”

Marcus asked. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were like a carnivorous predator watching its prey.

“They’re seasoned in these matters.”

“Good. Then proceed as planned.”

“Should we not inform the independent squad leader?”

“I gave him a hint.”

It was nothing more than a subtle hint, but the commander would handle it.

In reality, there was no need to burden anyone with the task of killing a noble.

This was Marcus’ intent.

Take the noble who’s been eating the Black Blade’s gold and waste his time.

And, conveniently, there was also a prisoner to bring along.

Using the captive for various schemes was an option.

In other words, the commander had read Marcus’ intentions.

There was no need to explain further.

‘A talented individual who can please that madman while still not falling behind in skill.’

How many people in the unit could do that?

Although he was promoted to independent squad leader, he hadn’t truly earned full recognition yet, so he was still considered somewhat lower in rank compared to a First Platoon Leader or Border Defense Commander. But his abilities were more reliable than anyone else’s.

In other words, the perfect person for the job.

With that in mind, Marcus had sent Enkrid off with a sense of expectation that words couldn’t fully explain.

No, it wasn’t just this one thing he was aiming for. He had multiple goals.

Marcus also had the intention of hiding Enkrid’s skills.

While leaving him in the unit might make it less likely for others to recognize him right away, it was better to be cautious.

With the Martai bastards constantly sending spies, he wanted to keep Enkrid out of sight as much as possible.

He absolutely didn’t want any unnecessary exposure of his side’s strength.

A core elite force, one whose strength was unmatched, capable of becoming a commander. Enkrid was obsessed with training, and his actions showed he wasn’t bad at heart.

And on top of that, he could cater to the whims of a noble brat.

‘That’s something else.’

It was no wonder that Enkrid was such a coveted individual.

Even more so since he was someone who could spark a fire in his own heart.

Lately, for the first time in a long while, Marcus was living a life full of vitality.

Not the meaningless repetition of days, but a life where he was constantly striving for new achievements.

‘I’m thrilled to death.’

Despite his inner excitement, Marcus remained focused with a serious expression, diligently attending to his duties.

Those duties were not at all what one might expect from someone known as a war fanatic.

Originally, the title of war fanatic was a mask.

A mask used to deceive others.

Marcus himself wasn’t particularly skilled in battle or war.

He knew that.

Of course, just because he lacked natural talent didn’t mean he couldn’t handle it.

What Marcus was good at was using people. He knew how to trust others. He knew how to make use of his people.

First Platoon Leader, Border Defense Commander, Fairy Platoon Leader, and now Enkrid.

His hand was full of jokers. He had an ace in his hand.

With so many cards to play, it wasn’t hard to take the opponent’s stake.

He didn’t need to weave a complicated web of strategies; Marcus moved simply and directly.

He just needed to find the right moment to throw off the opponent’s expectations.

‘Damn Black Blade mercenaries, always sticking their noses in, trying to pick up scraps.’

Like wild beasts.

There were predators licking their lips, coveting the city Marcus was tasked with protecting.

Should he just sit back and let these beasts roam?

“Then.”

The Defense Commander gave a military salute, and Marcus spoke to his back.

“Kill them all.”

“Of course.”

The Border Guard was a fortress city, a military stronghold.

It was a place where brutal blood had been shed during the war with Azpen.

If anyone underestimated them and recklessly attacked, it was time to give them a fitting punishment.

***

As soon as they arrived at the city gates, Baron Vancento gave Enkrid, Rem, and Ragna a disgusted glance, followed by harsh words.

“Is this all you have? Just three of you?”

The young baron sneered at them.

“Two commoners and a barbarian? What a disgusting combination. It reeks. Stay away from me.”

They met at the city gates, and his words came without delay.

Rem’s hand gripped the axe handle firmly.

Enkrid reached out with his right hand, grabbing Rem’s wrist, and with his other hand, he pressed down on Ragna’s left thigh.

Shaking his head, he said to both of them.

“See this? You dare speak to a noble like that, without any respect?”

Vancento immediately prayed to the heavens, desperately wishing for death.

Enkrid had somewhat expected this, so there was no issue with his response.

“Yes.”

He gave a military salute and stood in front of Rem and Ragna, blocking their way.

“That's what I thought. A barbarian like you, with your ugly companions.”

Vancento continued to mock them.

“My axe is crying! My pants are getting wet. Don’t make my axe sad.”

Rem growled seriously.

“Don’t.”

At least not here, in the city. Assaulting a noble wasn’t something that could be overlooked, especially killing them. Even if the royal palace sent an execution squad, it would be hard to justify.

It looked like things wouldn’t just end with a beating.

“Ragna, you too.”

Ragna’s red eyes were fierce.

“Let’s go.”

Luckily, some guards wearing black cloaks over their leather armor moved to escort the nobleman.

The only people who boarded the carriage were the noble and the guards, while Enkrid and his group decided to walk.

A new member had joined the group.

“Why are we bringing him along?”

Ragna tugged the rope in his hand.

The creature named Dunbakel, a beastman, was dragged along with the gesture.

His wrists were tightly bound with thick rope, and his arms and torso were also wrapped.

The rope hung loosely, with Ragna holding the end of it.

Blood seeped from the wounds on his wrists. Despite the beastman’s skin being tougher than a human’s, this much damage meant he had been tied up without any intention of letting him go.

No one planned to release him.

“Guide.”

Enkrid didn’t trust the nobleman accompanying them.

And, of course, he didn’t trust the prisoner Dunbakel either.

‘He wants to live.’

Enkrid approached simply. He requested the prisoner’s guidance from the commander and immediately asked.

“I’ll let you live if you do one thing. Consider it a job.”

Since he called himself a mercenary, it was a simple job.

The reward was his life; the choice was his.

“...You’ll save me?”

Suspicion filled his eyes. But they were fascinating eyes to look at. The beastman’s pupils had a golden gleam.

‘Doesn't that mean he’s from the legendary golden-eyed tribe?’

Enkrid recalled something he had heard during his mercenary days.

But judging by his appearance, he looked like a dog that had been rained on. He probably got kicked around and ended up like this.

Enkrid could tell, but he didn’t ask. There was no need to.

If it was a deal, that was enough. After this, he wouldn’t see the beastman again. Whether the beastman died or left, the matter would end.

“Will you do it or not? It’s up to you whether you trust me or not, whether you do it or not.”

Enkrid spoke and then shook his head, adding,

“Actually, there’s no real choice. Do it. Anything is better than being executed. You’ll have a chance to escape once you’re outside.”

“Why?”

Enkrid didn’t answer the question. He couldn’t.

How could he explain?

That the desire for survival in the beastman’s eyes was similar to how he once fought desperately for his own dreams?

If Frokk was driven by desire, then the beastman was ruled by instincts and reproduction.

So, of course, the beastman wanted to live.

Wouldn’t a human want the same?

But that look... it wasn’t just about begging for survival. It was the look of someone who would do anything to live, the desperation in his eyes.

It was purely an intuition, a feeling, but Enkrid didn’t want to ignore it.

“Are you into beastmen?”

The commander joked, but then continued with a serious tone.

“One beastman won’t matter, just do as you like.”

Whether you set them free or kill them, the commander didn’t care; it was all about his preference.

The commander was straightforward in that way.

Enkrid didn’t care either way. He intended to let the beastman go if he cooperated.

If he was being dragged into this, what would he expect?

If war broke out, everyone would have to die anyway.

Did he really want to know the backstory? It was just a whim. If he could use him, all the better.

This was why he had assigned the role of guide to the beastman instead of the noble brat.

He could cross-check whether the beastman knew the way or was trying to make a deal.

That answered Ragna’s question of why the beastman was brought along.

Enkrid wondered if he could explain this to Ragna.

It seemed unlikely.

“Because he looks like he knows the way.”

When Enkrid gave the short explanation, Ragna looked somewhat wounded.

“Not good with directions, but he sure knows how to wield a sword.”

Who didn’t know that?

“I know.”

Enkrid said simply, then left the city gates.

Dunbakel, who had been watching this whole scene, was nothing but amazed at the situation.

The one who had been tormenting him with an axe wasn’t even looking at him now. He was being treated like a non-existent beastman.

All he did was stroke the axe handle and look at the nobleman.

The instincts of a beastman warned him.

‘If they leave me alone, I’ll be sliced into six pieces.’

Enkrid, too, seemed to know this, and he repeatedly warned him.

“Calm down.”

“Stop.”

“Stop it, I mean it.”

“Rem.”

Still, Rem didn’t take his hand off the axe handle.

‘He’s insane.’

Dunbakel had quickly figured out what kind of person Rem was. He was too accurate.

“If we take a wrong turn, I’ll slice you.”

This wasn’t just for the one who held him. There was no emotion in his words, just fact. It was so natural, like the sun rising the next morning.

‘If I try to run, I’ll be dead.’

Most of all, his body was still bound.

‘For a whim.’

Dunbakel wrapped his arms around his chest, his arms tightening over his torso, then around his neck and wrists.

It wasn’t just uncomfortable; he couldn’t move at all.

After just a few steps, the nobleman opened the carriage window. The towering walls of the Border Guard could still be seen from behind.

That meant if the sentries had sharp eyes, they would be able to recognize who was with them.

The nobleman who opened the window spoke.

“You look interesting. Beastman, come to my carriage tonight.”

His nostrils flared, and Dunbakel thought about shoving his nails into them.

“Will you untie me, then?”

“It’ll be more fun if you stay tied up.”

Seeing the desires and cravings in the nobleman's eyes wasn’t so much unpleasant as it was clear—this one would be an easy opponent.

At least, easier than the one who bound him or the one who held an axe.

Rem, having heard the noble’s words, smiled wickedly.

It was clear this was dangerously close.

Though Ragna didn’t speak, he quietly added.

“I’ll slice you if you move without permission.”

It was said with the same tone as if saying “the moon rises tonight.”

‘Is he saying if I follow the noble, he’ll kill me?’

In this entire situation, Dunbakel saw the calmest person.

Enkrid.

When the carriage began to move, he drew his sword and started swinging it.

‘What is he doing now?’

The sword sliced through the air.

Was he training while walking? No, maybe conditioning?

As he moved, it looked like he was practicing his steps too.

The noble’s guards, doubling as the carriage driver, chuckled at the sight.

“Rolling around won’t turn a maggot into a butterfly.”

Did they even know what they were saying?

Dunbakel had fought Enkrid. That man had terrifying skill.

But watching what he was doing now, his curiosity flared up more than fear.

Looking behind him, Ragna was carefully watching his commander, so Dunbakel couldn’t help but ask.

“Why train so hard when he already has such skill?”

He wasn’t sure how to phrase the question, but Ragna answered easily.

“He was terrible at first. Couldn’t even handle a single ghoul.”

A ghoul? Surely not.

Dunbakel had fought Enkrid. He knew exactly how capable he was. He was the most recent person to directly face him.

“But he still swung his sword like that every day. Even though his hands only became a bit tougher and his muscles a little bigger, he kept at it every day. It was always the same. Always, without fail. How could he do that?”

Ragna spoke almost to himself, at first like he was answering Dunbakel, then as if he were talking to himself.

No, had he been talking to himself from the start?

Dunbakel looked into Ragna’s eyes. He was wondering why he was acting this way.

Those eyes looked strangely burning, as if he was falling deep into something.

He couldn’t approach him now.

‘He couldn’t even handle a ghoul?’

And still, he kept swinging his sword every day?

“One year?”

Dunbakel overheard Rem muttering something about how it took less than a year, “Is he really a genius? No, definitely not.”

A year? Could someone change so much in a year, from not being able to handle a ghoul to this?

Dunbakel didn’t realize when, but he found himself staring at Enkrid’s back.

He was a curious and strange man. He hadn’t risen due to extraordinary talent; he had swung his sword every day despite his lack of natural skill?

Dunbakel had no reason to lie to himself, so it must be true.

In the midst of all this curiosity and fascination, a twinge of envy arose.

What if he had lived like that? Would things have been different?

Dunbakel briefly regretted and then turned his gaze away.

‘Hmm.’

Although he didn’t show it, he had recognized the Black Blade’s insignia.

Here, there was a choice to be made.

Should he speak up or just let it go?

It was a crossroads.

At that moment, the carriage came to a stop.

“Let’s rest here for a bit,” said the driver, who also served as a guard in black clothing.

Enkrid stopped swinging his sword as the carriage came to a halt.