Chapter 18 - Sounds of Survival
"Still alive?"
By nightfall, Enkrid tried to pick up the sound of an approaching assassin.
It was pointless.
There was no sound, no trace to be sensed.
"Let's stick to this for now."
No hesitation lingered.
Once a training thod was set, he just executed it, like a plowing ox.
And so, Enkrid did.
Before the poisoned needle could be fired, the assassin would surely enter the tent.
The goal was to hear that faint trace.
Each night, he would lie down and wake up to the sa morning.
That didn't an he ignorantly focused solely on nightti training.
If possible, doing his best in all areas was ideal.
During the day, he sought out Jaxen.
The very next day after learning about auditory training,
Enkrid waited modestly outside the tent.
He had arrived too early compared to usual.
Hearing faint whispers inside, he didn't move closer.
He didn't care what intimate words were exchanged—it wasn't necessary to eavesdrop.
After waiting, he t with Jaxen.
"Let's take a walk."
As they walked, they talked.
The sa questions, the sa deanor.
Even though Enkrid heard the sa words each ti, he unconsciously adopted the attentive posture Krang had shown him.
Good listening was deeply tied to good learning.
One had to listen well and understand before taking the next step.
Though he wasn't fully aware of it, Enkrid instinctively knew the importance of listening and did so diligently.
In this way, the habit of attentiveness proved to be an excellent tool.
Jaxen repeated himself often, and Enkrid sotis pretended to be a genius.
"Eyes in the back of your head—that's listening, isn't it? Picking it up with your ears?"
"...Doesn't seem like further explanation is needed."
"Sounds have directions too, right? Front, back, left, right—you can differentiate based on where and how strong the sound is, correct?"
"Are you a genius?"
"What?"
"Nothing. You're sharper than expected."
"Did I look like a fool to you?"
"Not at all."
And then the day would end again, starting anew with Vengeance's complaints.
"Hey, no breakfast? Where's that bastard gone?"
"Yes, being hungry does make one irritable."
"What?"
"I'll go find breakfast so our dear platoon leader can stop whining."
"...Have you lost your mind?"
Not really.
Since words didn't hold much aning, he decided to start the day with so teasing.
He observed those around him as they went about their routines,
using so of their actions as markers to make subtle changes to the repetitive days.
Enkrid half-jokingly dealt with breakfast before diving into another round of training.
Five tis, ten tis.
Repeating this over and over, he grew accustod to dragging Jaxen out of the tent.
At first, it felt awkward, but after overhearing the intimate exchanges inside, he beca shaless.
Today, they praised one spot; last ti, they praised another.
They talked about preferred positions.
In these repeated days, Enkrid boldly lifted the tent flap.
"Jaxen, got a mont?"
"...What is it now?"
"If you're going to continue, i'll step aside."
"Even if I wanted to, you ruined the mood."
"Then get out."
The woman beside Jaxen stared at Enkrid with incredulous eyes, as if thinking, "What's with this guy?"
At first, even Enkrid felt embarrassed, but as he grew used to it, he beca unabashed.
He simply ignored it.
Most importantly, Jaxen didn't particularly express displeasure with this behavior.
He was just curious about Enkrid's intentions.
That curiosity was always resolved in the sa way.
"Curious?"
"No, never mind."
The sa went for training.
As Enkrid beca more adept at hearing sounds, Jaxen raised a question.
"...Have you learned this before?"
"My grandfather taught a little as a child."
Enkrid was a war orphan.
He had no grandfather, let alone parents.
"I see."
Jaxen let it slide, even with such a flimsy excuse.
Enkrid always spent his days aningfully.
When practicing thrusting techniques, moving his body was his focus. Now, sitting still was the task.
There were results.
Though slow, Enkrid made steady progress.
"Let's follow what I've learned."
If a full step wasn't possible, take half a step.
If half a step wasn't possible, take a quarter step.
And if even that was impossible, start with wiggling his toes.
After repeating the sa day for about twenty tis,
"I hear it."
He could hear the wind brushing against feathers.
Creak.
He could hear the unpleasant sound of a carriage wheel.
It was like the broken gears of a damaged spring.
"A breaking sound."
Sounds ca in different types.
So carried information as if speaking.
For example, the sound coming from a flag did so.
"Finding out it's position is simple. Check where you're seated, locate the north, then follow the direction of the flag's fluttering sound."
Easier said than done.
Few could accomplish this in one go.
Repetition, then more repetition.
As always, dividing each day into smaller monts, maintaining an unchanging resolve.
Everything synergized.
"Follow the sound of the fluttering feathers."
Based on his seated position,he could discern the direction of the wind.
It wouldn't be particularly practical in everyday life or on the battlefield.
After all, one could sense the wind's direction from where they sat.
But identifying it solely through sound carried its own significance.
He could distinguish voices of intent,gauge their volu, and asure distances.
"If mastered, this could be quite useful in battle."
Co to think of it, Jaxen always managed to avoid dangerous battlefields.
Did he listen, judge, and act preemptively?
Could such things really be done?
That was sothing Enkrid couldn't determine yet.
Distinguishing sounds was the first part of this training.
The second was asuring distances by sound.
Enkrid had just completed these two steps.
The third step was to discern and focus on faint, subtle sounds.
The best training for this, they said, was to detect the presence of assassins.
"Ridiculous, but..."
It was an ideal environnt.
Not knowing what was happening before suddenly dying was far worse than he had imagined.
That sudden mont of helplessness, with no chance to resist, was the worst.
Still.
'Could this be an opportunity?'
The thought ca naturally.
Enkrid didn't get up from his bed.
Tangling with the freckled night watchman always seed to lead to his demise in past encounters.
There was no need for that now.
He closed his eyes and focused while remaining lying down.
For now, he listened.
What would co next could be thought about later.
During the day, he listened to the sound of carts rolling, wooden pegs breaking and wobbling, or perfectly intact carts.
He distinguished between flags and tents swaying in the wind, and the voices of people.
What might seem tedious and exhausting to so was sothing entirely different for Enkrid.
'This is fun.'
For Enkrid, even small progress brought him joy.
It wasn't like learning the Heart of the Beast through grueling physical effort, but it was ntally taxing.
When he focused too much, splitting headaches would pound his skull.
But by the thirtieth attempt, he was fine.
Each day brought subtle growth, making it different from the day before.
Enkrid found imnse satisfaction in that.
On the fifty-sixth night, a quiet sound pierced through the usual nightti noise.
The crackling of torches burning in their holders.
The sound of a drowsy guard startling awake and jabbing the ground with his spear.
The freckled night watch occasionally peeking into the tent.
Amid those familiar sounds, sothing small and distinct crept into Enkrid's ears.
A faint, whizzing noise like air escaping.
'I heard it.'
It was different.
Enkrid's trained ears caught the subtle variance.
The mont it reached him, he rolled to the side without hesitation.
'I dodged it.'
Initially, his plan had been to dodge and then shout for help.
But he couldn't.
A sharp hiss cut through the air behind him.
There was no ti to reach for the dagger hidden in his clothes.
He rolled forward again.
Hisses, whooshes, and faint rustling noises filled the space.
Relying on the direction of the sounds, Enkrid narrowly avoided the relentless attacks, though one blade nicked his thigh.
'That was lucky.'
If his timing had been slightly off, his thigh would've been slashed.
And against an opponent using poisoned needles, even a graze could be fatal.
Enkrid kept rolling and dodging, relying on the Heart of the Beast.
Despite the repeated close calls, his heart stayed cool and steady.
There was no need to panic.
If all he needed to do was listen and evade—
'I can manage.'
By abandoning counterattacks, he could continue to dodge.
A blade slashed vertically, aiming for his back.
The intent was clear—to force a graze at least.
Enkrid rolled toward Vengeance's cot, ramming his shoulder into it.
Thud.
The impact sent a sharp jolt through his shoulder muscles, but Vengeance remained unconscious.
'Poison.'
The squad leader wouldn't wake up—likely due to so paralyzing or sleep-inducing toxin.
"Tough bastard."
This ti, the assassin muttered under his breath, their urgency evident as they clicked their tongue and stepped forward.
Though Enkrid's breath ca in short gasps, his response was swift.
The assassin thrust a knife with their right hand while hurling a poisoned needle with their left.
It was a near-flawless strike.
But Enkrid, despite his labored breathing, reacted quickly.
He evaded the knife and used Vengeance's arm as a shield against the needle.
Thud. The needle lodged in Vengeance's forearm.
The assassin hesitated, their confidence shaken, giving Enkrid a chance to roll toward the tent's entrance.
His heavy breathing had been a ploy.
'This is the Valen rcenary Style—feigned vulnerability.'
He'd baited his opponent into thinking they had an easy opening, then exploited their reaction.
It worked perfectly.
As he rolled, Enkrid used the montum to half-rise and made for the tent's exit.
The assassin lunged at him.
That too was a feint.
Instead of the entrance, Enkrid turned toward the tent's wall, drawing his dagger to slice through it.
If he could cut through and escape, victory would be his.
But—
Rip!
The tent wall was slashed from the outside before he could act.
Through the torn fabric, glowing green eyes erged.
"You're a bit late," ca a voice.
It was the Fairy Company Commander—the mastermind behind the assassination.
Reflexively, Enkrid attempted a thrust.
Though he held only a dagger, his countless drills had made the motion instinctive.
Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted and extended his right arm like a spear.
The Fairy Commander's glowing eyes narrowed as they stepped inside, deflecting the thrust with a casual motion of their right hand.
Clang!
The trajectory of the dagger was disrupted, and the commander kicked Enkrid's supporting leg.
The world spun as Enkrid hit the ground.
What followed was inexplicable.
Click.
The commander yanked Enkrid's cloak, using it as a shield.
Thud-thud-thud.
Poisoned needles embedded themselves in the fabric.
"You okay?"
Through the confusion, Enkrid saw Krang crouching just outside the tent.
"A guard, huh?"
The assassin's voice wavered, betraying their unease.
"Assassinations leave a foul taste in my mouth," the Fairy Commander remarked, letting the cloak fall.
Enkrid struggled to process the scene.
'Not an assassin?'
She was here to protect, not kill.
So, the face he saw during his near-death mont had been an ally arriving late?
"You don't seem hurt."
"Just startled," Enkrid replied to Krang, turning to assess the situation.
The assassin, now aware of the Fairy Commander's presence, shifted their weight backward, clearly preparing to flee.
The commander made no move to stop them.
Monts later, the assassin slipped out of the tent, their steps eerily silent even as they ran.
"Well, this is awkward."
Krang chuckled as he entered the tent.
The commander dragged the unconscious freckled guard inside, dumping him unceremoniously on the ground.
They glanced at Vengeance's still form before turning to Enkrid, their glowing green eyes locking on him.
A brief silence.
Then, tilting her head, the Fairy Commander spoke.
"You're alive?"
Her tone carried a hint of surprise.
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