402. Talent given by heaven
“Send the Chimera unit.”
At Count Molsen’s words, Learbard raised his flag. The liaison officer, seeing the small flag in his hand, jumped and shouted.
“Go! “Go!”
Following the liaison’s call, the second sword prepared by the Count began to run.
The Count sent a pack of werewolves as border guards. He was a werewolf in the true sense of the word, having turned from a human to a monster. Of course, that wasn’t all that was sent to the Border Guard.
The main body was here.
The cavalry was pushed back, the horse archers were captured by the knights, including Eisia, and the infantry was also pushed back in the battle of formations.
This is because of the unexpected power rampaging among the earl’s infantry.
To be precise, it could be seen as something that happened because of an ignorant prosecutor who easily lost his way.
Learbart saw it too, but was indifferent.
It was okay to say that the fighting was at a poor level compared to the power he had. It was like being pushed around mercilessly.
No, it was actually pushed back.
Nevertheless, the Count just watched as if everything was okay.
In fact, the losses of the Count’s army were increasing due to the movements based on the judgment of the subordinate commander.
So, people died. In that gap, the Chimera unit jumped in.
It seemed like the right decision. Isn’t it basic strategy to deploy different forces?
Most of them were wearing tattered leather clothes and rags with holes in them.
A group of people dressed in clothes that did not suit the battlefield began to run forward. If you look closely, the eyes are so blurry that you can’t see any trace of reason in them. They were also a group that was busy following the simple command to move forward.
At some point they ran and changed.
Feathers sprouted from its entire body, thick mane-like hair grew, and its size grew.
His fingernails became sharper and his dull eyes filled with murderous intent.
In this way, it became a monster born solely for the purpose of slaughter.
Owlbear, werewolf, and bearman.
A total of three types of demonized people ran and screamed.
Hooooooo!
Awww!
Big!
It was a howling that would give an ordinary person goosebumps just by hearing it, and evoked instinctive fear.
With howling sounds, they aimed at the right flank of the kingdom’s army. The group of monsters numbering well over a hundred were worthy of discussing the despair and frustration of those on the other side.
It was then.
A shout from one side was directed at the herd of animals. It was clearly a human cry, but it was something else.
Ororororolol!
It is a cry spread widely by rolling the tongue and breathing through the abdomen.
“Chase the wolf!”
“Beast, beast. “You took the wrong route!”
Ororororolol!
A mixture of shouts and voices resonates. From one side of the plain, people appeared, running with incredibly fast feet as infantry.
It was so fast that it seemed similar to a normal horseback charge.
So, even compared to the hordes of running monsters, they were not inferior.
They were all wearing long wooden sticks, spears, and maroon leather cloaks.
There could not be more than one such group.
He was a shepherd in the wilderness.
These people live by running through the wilderness and herding sheep.
Located at the northernmost tip of the continent, they handle ‘thick-horned mountain goats’ in the mountains, and in the fields called wilderness, they handle ‘skinny sheep’, which are the most ferocious herbivores on the continent.
Although the number was less than twenty, it was a group equivalent to the Order of Knights.
They ran and rushed towards the group of monsters.
A number under the age of twenty rushes towards a group of over two hundred. At first glance, it seems like a mass suicide, but the result was not like that.
“I hope it grows into fertile land.”
At the head of it was a man named Pell.
He swung a sword imbued with the soul of a demon called the Idol Slayer.
If you get cut, you die.
It was like it was covered in poison. It is a sword that cuts and kills the soul, not the body.
I was told not to use it carelessly because continuing to use it would awaken the demon trapped in the sword, but it would have been right to use it without hesitation against such a monster.
It was once the sword and the shepherd who made Encred repeat this day.
Fel thrust his sword into Owlbear’s eye. There was no need to pierce his head. I pinched it lightly and pulled it out right away. A moderate wound would have been enough.
Of course, having one eye gouged out was not a suitable injury.
It’s just a wound that the shepherd sees as suitable.
“Uuuuuuu!”
The impaled owl monster let out a howl. Instead of dying, endure. Will? no. It is the devilish virtue that monsters possess.
The sword trembled. A short vibration was transmitted. It’s a sign that you don’t like what you cut. So he could swing it as much as he wanted.
Doesn’t that mean you can use that ability without sacrificing your soul to the devil’s sword?
Instead, you will have to cut, cut, stab, and prod more than you would when cutting things that actually have souls.
Anyway, if it doesn’t work once, you can cut it twice.
Fel walked up as quickly as he retreated and stabbed him in the other eye.
The Owl Bear raised its claws with a huff and swung its foot-like hand.
Fel pulled out the stabbing sword and lowered his head to avoid it. His eyes sparkled.
I intuitively understood the information pouring in from all directions and took action. Pel began to rampage further.
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Then two colleagues came around. He is a shepherd with an old, gray appearance. One wore a hat made of a wolf’s head, and the other wore a hat made of a bear’s head.
“You crazy Fel bastard, go on a rampage in moderation.”
“Anyway, young people these days.”
One wielded a long spear and the other wielded a long baton.
For generations, shepherds in the wilderness preferred long arms. Spears and batons, etc.
Among these people, Fel insisted on using the sword.
“Can’t we just let you figure it out?”
Fel said as he kicked the dying Owlbear.
“Are you saying you don’t want to hear nagging right now?”
“I guess I should blame your father for your lack of manners, right?”
Noisy old guys.
Pell spoke independently of his thoughts.
“Yes, I was wrong.”
“Just words, just words.”
“Anyway, young people these days.”
The bear-headed old man had a habit of saying things like “young people” these days.
So it was enough to just ignore it.
Fel thought it would be better to just chat with Owlbear.
Chatting is a conversation that includes laughter, but the only one laughing will be yourself.
The bastard won’t be able to laugh, and he won’t allow the monster that kind of leeway.
The two old shepherds saw Fel like that and followed him as if to assist him.
Two more were added next to those three, and the five moved as one.
It was the basic formation of a shepherd.
The five strike as one. The diamond-shaped spear blade, the iron-rimmed pole at the end, and Fel’s sword mercilessly killed the test subject that had become a monster.
It was said that the Count’s chimera army ultimately failed to achieve its purpose at all.
Then how come the shepherd of the wilderness is here?
It was Krang’s work.
He asked for help from a shepherd he happened to meet while wandering around the continent, and the shepherd came not to forget his kindness.
No, to be honest, it’s been several years since I came.
It wasn’t just about waiting for today.
They also came because they had something they wanted.
Of course, Kraang knew all this and took full advantage of it.
Isn’t it the basics of politics to take advantage of what the other person wants?
Krang did that, and because of that, twenty shepherds from the wilderness were here.
Their number could not be said to be only twenty.
The soldiers felt as if Encred’s company of madmen had become two.
The older commander thought it was as if the knights were torn into three pieces and were ravaging the enemy army.
Acea and the Squire Group.
A group of shepherds in the wilderness.
And Encred and the Madman Company.
Funnily enough, the most powerful among them was the Madman Company.
The destructive power of the Knights of the Red Cloak was minimal.
Although there were no articles about it, it was an absurd incident.
* * *
Count Molsen was like a boil.
A boil that hurts if left alone, but gets worse if you touch it carelessly.
Such boils had to be cut out at once.
That’s why. Krang made a claim that seemed absurd at first glance.
“We need a civil war.”
The civil war he is talking about is gathering up all the sickness that is Count Molsen, cutting them out, and burning them.
Therefore, the battle that took place now was closer to being influenced by Kraang’s intentions rather than Count Molsen’s intentions.
So, did Count Molsen not know about Crans’ intentions?
Count Molsen may have been a born politician, but he was an ambitious man. He knew he would know. He knowingly complied.
So it was now.
Marcus’ head spun like never before.
The troops were moved based on the information received from the scouts.
Marcus could not see any openings and had to destroy all the means prepared by the enemy.
So far, that’s the way it is.
Then, Marcus internally asked a question to the Count.
‘You didn’t know you would do this, right?’
A completely different armed group was brought in. Instead of the Knights Templar. So he thought that the enemy might be embarrassed.
I heard that he called the shepherds from the wilderness and promised to give them some of the land.
The shepherd’s chieftain will be crowned with a mere nobility, and their land will be turned into a dominion.
In addition to the northern lands, they had their own lands throughout the kingdom and empire.
However, he did not rule the land directly.
The tenant farmers only receive a portion of the crops.
It goes without saying that the Marquis of Octo used his strength for that purpose.
This could not have been accomplished without his resourcefulness.
So it would have been difficult to predict.
‘Try to block it. ‘You’re a traitor.’
The sword that used to herd sheep in the far northern continent now cuts through hordes of chimeras sent by the enemy.
Count Molsen had no idea what he was thinking, so he pushed more troops into them.
The Count’s next move was unexpected.
‘what?’
Marcus frowned. What does that mean?
‘Are you going to push it with numbers?’
He was not a refined soldier. The rear troops came flooding in along the path they had split to the left and right.
There were so many that it looked like a wave was coming, but they just ran without any formation or anything.
‘Dunjeon disease?’
These refer to people who cultivate border land during peacetime and become soldiers during wartime.
Dungeon soldiers also receive basic military training. Those who advanced further than that sometimes converted into professional soldiers, and for those who advanced beyond that, it was their duty to receive training during peacetime.
Therefore, they were not dull soldiers.
Instead of forming a formation, they seemed busy running at random.
He gave a spear to ordinary citizens, or more precisely, those within the earl’s territory, and sent them away.
Behind them, a group of archers could be seen hanging arrows on a string.
A person who forces a fleeing soldier into a fight even at the cost of killing him is called a doctrinaire.
The count created a military unit.
If you retreat, you will be killed by an arrow, and if you go out, you will be killed by the enemy’s sword.
They said he gave them a reason to fight by promising them territory and status if they survived, but that was something Marcus couldn’t know.
Marcus shook his head desperately.
‘Is this your intention to lose strength?’
Even if you knew it, it was an unavoidable move.
The Count is not an idiot either. He was also a man who dominated his era.
When I was young, I was called a territory guardian.
As soon as the meat shield he sent reached the allies, it began to be sliced and torn apart. It was a natural result. After that, the army raised by the count also came.
The fight continued without a break. Although it was unclear what the Count’s intentions were, one thing was certain.
Blood will flow as much as showers of rain poured down on this land.
* * *
Ragna was in the middle of stabbing and cutting down his enemy.
“Mak!”
“Kill!”
Blood splatters. Bones break. The head explodes and the brain fluid soaks the floor. His severed limbs fell and next to him was the body of a dead soldier with his eyes open.
Ragnar did not place any importance on the sword. It would be more accurate to say that he did not care much about those who died.
Instead, he honed his skills.
This place was used as a training ground.
That’s okay though.
As he stabbed, cut, and swung his sword, he thought, replayed the fight, and realized.
I did it all at the same time.
I made several arts as is.
Then, naturally, I merged and organized what I had. I threw away what I had to throw away and took what I wanted to take.
‘Severing a Mac is a catch.’
I learned it on the spot from a semi-knight I had dealt with before, but looking back, it was a skill I didn’t need to practice.
It may be useful against the weak, but it will be meaningless against opponents of similar skill level.
It’s a technique that can cause some confusion for a moment, but it’s difficult to expect any further results than that.
Therefore there is no need. Ragnar threw away and forgot what she had learned so easily.
There were a few small realizations like that.
‘Stronger and faster.’
Overall, increase strength and speed. Based on that, focus on the basics of cutting and stabbing. This was it. Strengthening the body.
Beyond the level of training, it is strengthening as a skill based on Will.
I walk without even having to question whether this is the right path. There is no need to ask anyone to find the way. There is no need to shake your head left or right to check the constellations.
That’s talent.
He must be a genius who is said to have a talent sent from heaven.
Ragna was in the process of creating and repeating a skill that needed to be mastered and learned on the spot.
Meanwhile, guys who didn’t even know how to fight approached us.
These are soldiers sent out by the Count who only use patterns.
‘It’s annoying.’
reason? You don’t need to know. Ragna moved without hesitation. He kicked the ground and moved, looking for guys who could swing his sword, professional soldiers, etc.
Before long, a group of people fighting appeared.
As Ragnar approached, the troop that formed a circle in the middle suddenly moved as if inviting him.
Ragnar walked into the center of the formation they had made. Then, people holding thick square shields formed a circle around him.
They were trained like hunting wild animals. That feeling was clear.
“now!”
Right after entering inside. A net flew over her head. Along with the net, crossbows and arrows are flying in from all directions, targeting only one person.
Ragna raised his sword and cut the net.
It wasn’t difficult.
Cutting the net and dodging arrows was not difficult.
It flows like water and swings the sword so that it is level with the ground. Toward the shield. It was about to cut down both the shield and those holding it in one go.
but.
Let’s go! Okay!
It was my first time. The sword was blocked. Even though it is only a shield for those who are neither knights nor semi-knights.
It was not an ordinary shield. The guys holding it were the same.
It was a heavily armored infantry unit wearing thick metal armor all over its body.
The shield in his hand was a three-layer metal block that was five times heavier than a regular shield.
Even with the Will of Cutting, it was natural that it could not physically cut anything longer than the length of the sword.
That was the situation a little while ago.
The sword cut through the shield, but it was too thick to split.
Those holding the shields gasped and glared at Ragna.
Ragna took one look at his sword and raised his gaze.
I saw a sharp gaze looking at me from behind the shield.
A soldier trained to overcome fear, who is afraid but knows how to endure. These were the eyes of those people.
Ragnar thought it would be a good time to test his newly honed skills.
‘It’s faster.’
stronger.
Cut better.
Sting better.
That’s the core of Ragnar’s new art.
It would have been good to practice cutting and stabbing that thick shield.
fantasy,
