As I sat with the ointment drying on my back, I watched groups of mercenaries gathering into another assault party.
I immediately thought I had to join them.
I reached for my armor.
Before I could put it on, one of the Mercenary Office workers stopped me.
"Not you."
"You already took part in the first raid."
"Rest."
"We're rotating the assault force."
"There's no need to send everyone at once."
Only then did I realize why the camp looked less crowded earlier.
The next wave was taking over.
Still bare from the waist up, I watched Azpen mount his horse and ride toward the front again.
So that's what a commander should be...
Not standing behind soldiers, shouting orders for others to die.
Leading from the very front.
Facing death with everyone else.
Two hours later, the raiding party returned.
This time their injuries were lighter.
Mostly cuts, bruises, and bleeding.
Nothing life-threatening.
Azpen was different.
He breathed heavily as he dismounted.
Even from a distance, I could tell he had pushed himself far beyond his normal limits.
Even an Aura Knight couldn't unleash attacks like that without paying a price.
Soon the mages began gathering together.
This time it wasn't for another close-range bombardment.
They were preparing a long-range magical attack on the nest.
Since the camp had moved farther away, accuracy would be lower, but that wasn't the objective.
The goal was to keep the lizardmen under constant pressure.
To deny them rest.
To force them into making mistakes.
The mages ordered everyone to clear the area while they prepared.
None of us argued.
Lunch was served soon afterward.
A thick slice of bread.
A large piece of roasted meat.
An omelet.
Simple food.
Heavy enough to keep us fighting.
As everyone finished eating, Azpen climbed onto a wooden platform.
His voice remained as steady as ever.
"Rest while you can."
"The infantry will guard the camp."
"The riders will recover."
"We attack again."
"Don't waste your strength."
"And remember..."
"Even if you kill a hundred lizardmen..."
"One arrow is enough to kill you."
"Keep your eyes open."
The mercenaries answered with a loud roar.
After eating until I could barely move, I leaned against Rusty.
He had already finished the feed provided by the Mercenary Office and sat quietly behind me.
I rested my back against his warm body and stared at the blue sky.
The clouds drifted lazily across the sunlight.
Have I really changed that much in just one month?
Or am I simply surviving one battle at a time?
"You survived."
The familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned.
Azpen stood beside me.
He carried only his greatsword on his back and the curved sword at his waist.
No armor.
Just the weapons.
I quickly stood.
He waved a hand.
"I'm not your commanding officer."
"Sit."
He lowered himself onto the ground beside me.
For a few moments, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at me.
"I told you..."
"If you survived..."
"I'd ask your name."
"You kept your part."
"Now I'll keep mine."
"So..."
"What's your name?"
"My name is Raven Kalyndor."
He nodded with a faint smile.
"Good name."
"Who trained you?"
I scratched my head.
"You probably don't know them."
"They weren't exactly my full-time teachers."
"They only taught me whenever they felt like it."
I told him about Duracal.
Rathen.
Siena.
Bharam.
I also explained how I earned my Mercenary Office badge.
The grey wolf hunt.
My first real kills.
I left out a few details, but told him enough for him to understand how I had reached this battlefield.
When I finished, Azpen chuckled quietly.
"You've seen death more times than someone your age should."
"I hope..."
"It doesn't come looking for you again."
For a while, neither of us spoke.
I looked toward the distant forest.
"Sir..."
"Will this strategy really work?"
"What if the enemy's rear force never returns?"
"We may destroy the nest..."
"But if that rear force survives..."
"Won't we end up fighting another battle like yesterday?"
Azpen remained silent for a few moments.
His eyes stayed fixed on the thin column of smoke rising above the distant nest.
"They're anxious too."
I looked at him in confusion.
He continued.
"They spent months building that nest."
"If we destroy it from the foundation..."
"They lose months of work."
"They don't know where our scouts are."
"They don't know when we'll strike next."
"They're wondering whether another attack is coming."
"They're just as uneasy as we are."
He finally looked at me.
"A battlefield isn't won only with strength."
"It's won by forcing the enemy to make the first mistake."
He stood and brushed the dirt from his clothes.
"Get some more rest, Raven."
"I have a feeling..."
"The next battle will decide everything."
Without another word, he walked away.
I leaned back against Rusty once more.
The sky remained peaceful.
But beneath it...
Both armies were preparing for another clash.