62 - Fifth "The Lion's Thousand Hounds"

This concludes today's basic training. Thank you for your hard work.

Upon hearing the instructor's words, the warriors fell to the ground without energy.

They no longer had the strength to reply. They were truly exhausted. Even Felk managed to stand with his hands on his knees, which were shaking.

The training that had been imposed on them up to this point, including the first ten laps of running, was by no means unattainable, but all of it had a built in to it. Although I was able to train with a sense of urgency that was greater than that of a real battle, my body and mind were not at their normal level of exhaustion.

"I would like to say that we are going to conduct the actual battle exercise ...... as a total finish of today, but it seems that we are a little too fatigued. --Hazel, please bring me something."

"Yes, sir."

Behind the instructor, a group of dozens of women lined up before he knew they were there. All of them were dressed in matching maidens' uniforms. One of them stepped forward, made eye contact with Felk, and bowed.

I am the deputy manager of the pavilion and a lady-in-waiting, and I am Hazel from the Third Legion. I (we) will take care of you all during your stay, so please do not hesitate to contact me.

A woman with goat-like horns on her head - a lady attendant called Hazel - said with a soft smile on her gentle face. Ferk, on the other hand, also managed to introduce herself, though she was out of breath.

The ladies-in-waiting received Hazel's instructions and handed cups of wine to the Latestwood warriors who were lying on the ground. Feruc, perhaps because of his status as the leader of the warriors, was given the cup directly by Hazel, who seemed to be the head maid of honor.

"Is this ......?"

It is our signature mead. It does not make much and does not keep well, so each person can only have one cup, but I can assure you of its taste. Please enjoy it.

Ferck looks at the wine cup. But they are still in the process of ...... training, or rather, getting fit to be able to train. There are still some practical exercises left to be done. In such a situation, they felt that it would be bad to drink alcohol.

Don't worry, the alcohol content has been weakened. This mead contains various effects such as relieving fatigue, so we always serve it to the trainees who visit our facility. Please drink it with gusto."

They repeated their offer. Deciding that it would be impolite to refuse, Felk looks at the instructor to make sure, and after seeing his nod, he sips from his cup of sake.

--At that moment, he was filled with a tremendous feeling of happiness.

What is this?

As soon as he poured it down his throat, or rather, as soon as his tongue touched the wine, every cell in his body burst into joy.

The taste was so mellow that I seriously doubted if I had just sipped a drop of God's sake. If this is sake, then what in the world have I been drinking? Without a shadow of a doubt, this is the finest sake I have ever tasted.

"I am glad you are satisfied."

Hazel, who had read everything in Felk's complexion, smiled.

It was only natural that he should be proud to introduce such an excellent product.

Feeling a pleasant sense of defeat, Felk carefully tastes the remaining mulled wine in the cup and slurps it down his throat.

As he downs the last of the mead, he realizes that before he knows it, he is standing upright with firm steps. To my surprise, the feeling of fatigue has vanished. I feel the urge to run right now, whereas a few moments ago, I could not take a single step.

Ferck marvels that this is the result of the full effect of the fatigue recovery and other effects. The effects are a little worrisome, but after experiencing the heavenly feeling of happiness, they seem trivial.

"Hmmm. It seems you have regained enough vitality. Let's wrap up the day.

After making sure that everyone had drunk their fill of mulled wine, the instructor began to speak.

"When I received your preliminary information, I noticed that there is something that is greatly lacking in your band of warriors. It is the .

The instructor, with his arms crossed, breaks off and continues.

"You have defended your country from the threat of demonic beasts for many years, though you are no match for them, and your skill and determination are admirable. However, these are defensive battles that place the primary emphasis on defending bases, and it is considered good enough if the opponent is eliminated. In short, the absolute number of enemy defeats has been so small that I have concluded that you are lacking .

There is no error in what the instructor said.

It is true that the warriors have been protecting cities and settlements from the threat of monsters and beasts, but they have not always been able to kill their enemies.

Sometimes we have driven them back by wounding them, and at other times we have continued our defensive warfare with the policy of leading them away from the targets of our defense by using ourselves as shields in directions other than the cities and settlements.

Of course, there is nothing better than to win the battle by putting the finishing touches on the enemy, but it is a fact that there were many monsters and beasts that could not easily achieve such a goal.

"That's not right. That is extremely bad. Not knowing how to win means that one is not familiar with the logic of how to win.

Therefore, during your stay in my country, you will win as many victories as possible. Although it is in the form of a mock battle, you will improve your skills through the experience of winning, and at the same time, you will learn the art of winning.

The warriors, who had recovered their energy and strength, listened to the instructor's words with serious eyes.

From what I have heard so far, what the instructor said seemed to make sense.

Their spirits had been lifted - to a somewhat bizarre degree - by the mead, and they all had a look of motivation on their faces.

"I have already found a partner for the mock battle. To finish off the day's training, you will have to battle him every day. --Come on out."

In response to the instructor's call, a soldier wearing iron shoes, leather armor, and an iron helmet appeared. He is small in stature, about the height of a dwarf. The figure came rushing toward us with a clattering sound, looking like a misshapen tin doll.

When the soldier arrived, he took off his helmet, put it under his arm, and bowed to the instructor.

Although his jerky sequence of movements was clearly rehearsed, he showed the same courtesy to his superior officer as he had practiced.

While the instructor nodded his head, the members of the warrior group were somewhat surprised to see the soldier's true face.

The soldier who took off his helmet was a goblin.

There are three types of goblins that they know as common knowledge, but he resembles one of the goblin species that dwells in the wilderness. They are considered the smallest of all goblins.

"This is Jiro Gob, your opponent in the mock battle. He was a soldier of the last war. I do not mean to belittle you, but I think he is a reasonable opponent. Now, say hello, Gobjiro.

"I'm Gob Jiro. I'm the king, and I'm named Goblin. I'll do my best. I'll do my best.

With a clank of his armor, Gobjiro bowed his head.

The group returned the bow in their own way, and the instructor asked them to get ready to begin.

When Felk was instructed to divide the group into groups of combatants, excluding healers and other logistics support personnel, he quickly selected a few leaders and told them to choose their group members so that their strength would be averaged out. As the leader of the first group, Felk also secured a group of about 30 members.

After the grouping, the first group was called by the instructor and went up on the stage set up in the center of the training area. On the other side of the stage, a soldier who had already made preparations - Gobujiro - was waiting for them, waving his weapon for the mock battle.

The first team was about to start discussing who would be the "spearhead" for the match, when the instructor, holding a loudspeaker in his hand, shouted out.

<

"What is the force ...... you say?"

<<

Apparently, instead of a one-on-one battle to win, they are going to have a one-on-many mock battle.

I don't find these instructions humiliating. It was easy for us to imagine that our opponents, even goblins, would be far superior to us from what we had seen so far. Taking this into consideration, Felk and the others had been thinking who to hit and in what order to invite their opponents to wear them down, but their guesses were off.

However, everyone wondered if it would be possible to win the game with such a large number of players.

The first few to a dozen or so would probably be beaten back, but even so, they would be able to overwhelm them if they relied on sheer force of numbers.

I heard that it was a mock battle to win, but would winning in this way be a useful experience ...... or something to be gained?

The group had such doubts, but the instructor did not care and let them prepare for the match.

The starting positions of the two armies were set, each side readied their weapons, and some of them, who were trained in magic, began to prepare for chanting.

When the gradually rising tension exceeded a certain level, the instructor gave an order.

>

With a roar, the battle was set off.

Felk was a little concerned about the nuance of the instructor's words, but once the battle had begun, he could not afford to dwell on unnecessary matters.

Putting his doubts to the back of his mind, he rushed toward Gobjiro.

He pulls a throwing knife from the holder at his waist. He took three swings, clasping it between the fingers of his clenched right hand. He stops once to make sure he hits the target, and then throws it with his right hand raised above his head in a downward motion. With a flowing motion, he pulls out the short staff at his waist and begins to chant the attack magic , which ejects a blade of wind.

（Now, which way to avoid ......?)

Behind me, my companions are drawing their bows and concentrating their magic power into their staffs.

They are poised to kill the enemy who moves to the left or right to avoid the knife.　

If the enemy tries to avoid the knife by moving up and down, which is unlikely, they will surely follow up with Felruk's <>, and if possible, they will try to break the enemy's attack with a single thrust.

This coordinated attack, in which the main attack is launched at the moment the target avoids the check shot, is one of the tactics that the RATESTWOOD WARRIORS have developed to defeat the magical beasts, and at the same time it is the most frequently used and reliable method of attack.

However, as it turned out, Gobjiro did not dodge either up, down, left, or right.

Nor did he defend himself against throwing knives with his armor, nor was he seriously hit by them.

He just dared to make a full swing with his weapon (longsword) against the flying throwing knife and hit the thrower (Felk) head-on.

(What? ......!??)

The knife that was released comes back at a tremendous speed.

Miraculously, the blade was facing us.

Feruc, who had stopped chanting on the spur of the moment, avoided the bullet liner by sinking down.

The knife passed over his head the next moment as he bent down, and disappeared behind him, severing the ends of his hair.

The screams of his comrades came from behind him, but he had no time to worry about them.

Felk quickly looked up to watch Gobjiro's movements, but noticed that his enemy was not there.

He looks quickly from side to side to see where he has gone, but he cannot find him.

"Gaaaah!

The screams again behind me.

A cry of anguish that is clearly different from the one startled by the falling arrow (knife).

In a swift movement, he turns around to see his friends flying high in the sky.

"Where is ..................?"

My friends were flying in the air.

The strange sight stunned him for a moment, but he came to his senses when he saw a swarm of friends pouring toward him.

He was able to catch the first one, but not the second or later.

He manages to get the others up on their feet, and then hurries away from the drop.

The dull sound of flesh hitting flesh from the fall from a great height reached his ears.

He is tempted to reach out for help, but he does not care.

He has lost sight of his enemy.

Just as he is about to ask himself where the hell he is going, he hears the screams of another comrade.

Felk quickly glances at the source of the voice, catches sight of the enemy, and peels his eyes away.

--Gobjiro was on the rampage.

Using the shield in his left hand and the belly of the longsword in his right, he charges into the center of the most densely-populated area and launches the warriors high into the air.

The blade of the longsword has been crushed for the purpose of mock battle, but it is still a block of steel. The blunt weapons, wielded with a physical strength that is unlike any goblin they have ever known, send the LATESTWOOD warriors soaring into the sky like balls.

"Dodge!　It's no use defending yourself, just keep your distance!"

"d*mn it, I can't get a line of fire!　For God's sake, everyone get away from me!　I can't do anything with this!"

"If you stick together, you're just a target!　Spread out, quickly!

Voices mixed with shouts of anger fly about. In an instant, all hell broke loose. There was no way that a well-coordinated, coordinated move could ever be achieved. Our men were being beaten down helplessly.

--They did not know. They did not know that the lone goblin fighting them now was the head of the Noblewood Guard.

--They realized. The lone goblin they are fighting now is a monster that they could not defeat even if they all fought together.

And now the enemy's evil has reached Feruc as well.

Gobjiro temporarily slips out of the center of the group and dives into his pocket in a single bound. His body stiffens for a moment as he is easily caught in the middle of the group, even though his thoughts have already been disturbed. With a fluid motion, an uppercut strikes Felk squarely on the jaw.

"Go-......,ah!"

In an instant, everything went black.

As soon as I regained consciousness, the crystal clear azure sky burst into my field of vision.

This was followed by a strange floating sensation.

The next moment he realized that he was floating in the air like the others, and his body was slammed unprotected to the edge of the stage.

"......,......!"

I couldn't even scream from the intense pain that shot through my body.

Only a muffled voice escaped my throat.

At the same time as he coughed, he coughed up something sticky besides air.

The red, sticky, wet substance made Felk realize that his internal organs had been severely damaged.

"......!　I'm gonna--,--!"

Apparently, he fell very close to where the healers were waiting. In the blurred vision, a fellow dwarf healer was frantically shouting something. Looking at her tragic expression and the ground stained with his own blood, Felk realizes that he has been mortally wounded.

Consciousness fades. His vision fades to white. He has already stopped breathing. Soon he cannot even hear the voices of his compatriots, and as he silently closes his eyes, he realizes that he has been mortally wounded.

"Heal."

A soft light fell on his dying body.

Immediately hearing and vision returned, and consciousness became clear as if bathed in cold water.

An unfamiliar figure of a sorcerer stands beside him, his shaded hands clad in afterglow.

As he rouses himself with a start, Felk looks down at his healed body and is astonished.

He had been healed many times before, but never before had such a drastic change occurred in an instant.

"This, this is ......."

"It is a specialist healing magic borrowed from the Third Legion by force. You should be completely recovered, but do you feel any discomfort in your body?　Any pain or difficulty moving around?"

When asked, Felk fearfully patted his belly, which should have been crushed, but felt only a muscular sensation and no pain. He felt no discomfort when he moved his arms and legs. As the instructor had said, he had fully recovered.

As the instructor said, I was fully recovered. "...... No, no. I can't believe it, but it seems to be completely healed. ......"

"I see. --Well, good luck.

The instructor pointed his finger at me with a snap.

At the tip of his straight index finger, there is Gobujiro, who continues to rampage in the center of the group.

Driven by the emotion of "no way," Felk stared at the instructor.

"I told you, didn't I?　This is a mock battle to be won. You will continue to be overrun until you don't know how to win, but since we have full backup, we can challenge you again and again. Do not hesitate. You may try again and again until you are victorious."

The instructor's words came out in a matter-of-fact manner, making Felk pallid.

He had just learned the difference in strength between them and the enemy. He could barely follow them with his eyes, but he could not avoid the attacks he had been hit by, even if he could see them. It was obvious that if he tried again, he would get a backhanded blow. If I was prepared to fight with him, I might be able to inflict some damage, but as a result, I would surely wander on the edge of death again.

However, there were a number of figures that looked like surgeons waiting around the stage.

I could see them quickly recovering the half-dead who were being mass-produced one after another, just as I had done earlier.

Even if I were to die again, or again and again, I am sure that I would be healed instantly by their hands. And each time, I will challenge the monster and be cured again, repeating the cycle. ...... until the moment of victory over the monster, perhaps.

Felk looks up at his instructor with a ray of hope.

However, there is no change in the instructor's expression.

If anything, there is a slight hint of doubt as to why he has not returned to work after having already recovered.

"U......Uooaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Realizing that there was no salvation, he charged forward, screaming in despair, pushed by his sense of responsibility as a war chief, his will as a man, or his instincts as a living creature facing death, whatever the case may be.

+ + +

"Oh, ...... you're doing it, Balan."

Ertina, the commander of the Third Corps, appeared on the training ground.

She was in charge of the overall internal administration based on the plan prepared by Helian, and she took a few moments out of her break to come and check on the training.

However, her gait was somewhat suspicious, and her voice was quiet.

"Ertina? ...... what's wrong with your expression? You look like a sick person.

"Yes, I'm a little tired. ....... I heal myself regularly, but it's getting to the point where I can no longer cover it up. ......"

"Mm. Even your healing magic can't heal you?"

Healing magic is not a panacea. Injuries and illnesses have their limits, but when it comes to replenishing vitality, there is a limit. ......I wish Celes were here at such times."

Balan did not dare to reply to that line.

Even though they had been friends for 150 years, there were certain aspects of each other that were not to be known in depth. After the incident, Balan had concluded that he should not touch such a part (・・・・・・・) of Ertina.

Although Ertina mentioned the name of the Commander of the 4th Legion, there is no restriction that it has to be her. It is just that Ceres is the most likely to show such an expression (・・・・・・) among those who are close to her.

"Miss Eltina, if you don't mind, this way..."

"...... Oh, Hazel. It's been a long time. It's good to see you.

Eltina takes the cup from Hazel and drinks the mead with a sip.

The mead has the effect of restoring vitality to a certain level. Since the amount of recovery is calculated on an absolute basis, the effect tends to be relatively weak against high-level demons, but the limited use of this drink, which can be taken only in this hall and the training hall, makes it more than adequate. It is capable of recovering almost all demons below the level of 100.

After drinking up the mead, Ertina let out a sigh of relief. Her body felt slightly more comfortable. She took out a hand mirror and checked her complexion, which was somewhat better than before she had come here.

The expression in the mirror is a smile. Although I had kept my golden hair, which is used as a title, shiny and colorful, dark circles had begun to appear under my eyes after many all-nighters. Seeing that they have disappeared, Eltina returns the cup of sake with a smile on her face.

Thank you, Hazel. It was very tasty. It's a pity that I can only drink it here.

"I am honored, Lady Eltina. We can't make a large quantity because of the way it's made, but if you are tired, please ask for us. I'll make sure we have enough for you.

Hazel smiled at her, and Eltina responded with a sincere smile." Hazel's smile deepened as she told him, "I hope you will not be too hard on yourself.

"Well, Balan. How are the warriors doing?

"It's only the first day, so I really don't want to give an evaluation. However, there is a great deal of room for growth. As long as the gears mesh, it will be possible to raise the level of competence to a certain level at once.

"I see. So now you're doing mock battles?

"Yes. Thanks to the healers we have borrowed, we are gaining combat experience efficiently. It is a great advantage to be able to challenge them again and again. I am grateful to them and to the Lord. ...... But at this rate, the days are numbered. Tomorrow, we will have to add more people to our simulation and pick up the pace."

Next to Balan, who is mumbling to himself, Ertina watches the training scene for a while.

The members of the Rattestwood Warriors, as Balan had said, had challenged the enemy (goblins) to a battle many times, and each time they had been returned and seriously wounded. However, they were prepared to fight back, inflicted damage on the enemy soldiers, and were healed by the healers under Eltina's command, and returned to the front line.

--If Helian had been here, he would have thought of the slang term .

Ertina, who sees in the faces of the challenging warriors the look of a trapped rat or a dead soldier, asks her colleague in horror: "What is it that you are doing here?

"............ Um, Balan?　Isn't this a kind of torture?"

Although she was not familiar with the training of warriors, Ertina could not help asking such questions after witnessing the horrific scene.

However, Balan, the Knight Commander and instructor, shook his head with a serious expression on his face.

No, definitely not, Ertina. They are volunteers and warriors. They came here to take up arms to protect their country and to seek the strength to fight. Then there is no reason why they cannot overcome this level of training. In fact, no one has ever dropped out, have they?"

If we ask them to cancel the training, there is no telling what they will do to us.

Such fears were pushing the RATESTWOOD Warriors back, but fortunately or unfortunately, the instructor (Balan) did not notice it.

"In addition, the actual battlefield is harsh. I am trying to train myself to maintain my composure when I go into battle, and I intend to increase the intensity of my training in stages. If you go through experiences that are even harsher than those on the battlefield, you will be able to overcome most of the challenges you face."

"...... Is that what it is?"

"That's the way it is."

Balan asserts with conviction.

Eltina, on the other hand, was skeptical, but eventually agreed, saying, "If the expert (Balan) says so, then it must be so.

"By the way, are these the Latestwood healers?"

"Mm. I am not a specialist in breaking magic, but I am not a specialist in applying it, so I have decided to ask for help from the sorcerers I have borrowed from.

Eltina looked at the surgeons who were watching the battle by the stage.

Then, with her finger on her forefinger, she thought about it and told Balan about an idea that had just occurred to her.

"I see. At ......, please leave those who were injured in the last mock battle as they are. As an educational exercise, let's have the people of Latticewood heal them.

"Mm?　But the extent of your injuries is considerable. Can their arms heal them?"

"It will be difficult at first, but eventually they will be able to do it. Fortunately, there seems to be no shortage of wounded, and there will be ample opportunity for repetition."

"...... are you going to use the bodies of your fellow students as specimens for your teaching practice?"

Balan pondered for a moment.

I do believe that repetitive practice is a necessary act for improvement. Skills become more precise and effective with use.

However, Baran wonders what it would be like to use the body of a fellow trainee as a specimen. In many cases, the injuries in a mock battle are close to so-called fatal wounds. And since they are fatal wounds, if the healer makes a mistake in handling them, the subject will die as it is.

(Although we are prepared for any eventuality. ......)

Balan has an agreement with the king that in the event of an during training, the king will take care of it, as he was the first spear in the last war. But the warriors of Rattestwood are unaware of the king's power. To them, can never be reversed.

In other words, Ertina's proposal would be to <<<<>.

Balan imagined this picture and asked Ertina in a serious tone of voice

............Ertina. Isn't that a kind of torture?"

Even though he was not an expert on the education of healers, Baran could not help asking such a question.

However, Ertina turned to Balan with a sincere expression on her face.

"No. No, Balan, that is not true. In the last war, they must have known the frustration of mourning the lives of their friends, the pain, and above all, the despair of their own lack of strength. That is why they came to this place with such a prayer that they should never have such a feeling again.

Then we must answer their prayers and wishes. We will only be here for a short period of time (one month), but I believe that we will be able to answer their wishes by having them return home with as much knowledge of the arts imprinted in their minds and bodies as possible.

Ertina asserts with the eyes of a saint who knows both life and death.

There is no hesitation there.

Seeing the fierce determination in her eyes, Balan backed away slightly as if he were overwhelmed.

"And the battlefield is a harsh place. There will be times when a close friend or a beloved family member is so traumatized that you hesitate to look directly at them. In order to be able to treat such situations calmly and undisturbed, you need to be accustomed to such tragic situations during the training phase. Repetition is the key to everything.

"...... Is that how it works?"

"That's the way it is."

Ertina asserts with conviction.

Baran, on the other hand, was skeptical, but eventually agreed, saying, "If the expert (Eltina) says so, then it must be so.

The dwarf of the warrior group who was listening to the conversation shook his head with tears in his eyes, but the two earnestly discussing the matter did not notice it.

"Speaking of which. Speaking of LATESTWOOD, how is the Seventh Legion Commander (Robin) doing?"

"As far as I can tell, as most people expected, no major problems have arisen. ...... still looks the same, but barely tolerable."

"Well, ....... I haven't heard anything yet, but I'm a little worried about the folks at Latticewood."

"I hate to put it this way, but it is a necessary sacrifice. I don't like to say it this way, but it is a necessary sacrifice, and the local people will have to endure it until this matter is over.

The two "the first three" let out a sigh as if they were imagining the same scene. Anyone familiar with the character of the Commander of the Seventh Army would have reacted the same way, even if not these two. Balan, with a sullen expression creasing his brow, and Eltina, with a smile that was as close to a wry smile as she could get, thought of the local people of Rattestwood.

It was four hours later that the last group of warriors defeated Gobjiro.