The Regression Of A Grand Mercenary - 71 - Independent Boys - Part 5

Back in our first week of training, Captain Thill gave us a lecture about a certain role in any group.

The role of a leader.

Naturally, some of the boys perked up at the mention. The title carried an aura of authority, of glory. Who wouldn’t want to be the man leading his men into battle, winning with both grace and honor?

A leader not only receives respect but also embodies strength and image. The problem, however, was that leadership is a position granted to only one. Out of fifty of us, only one could claim that role.

And yet, in truth, we already had a leader. Captain himself. Not only did he command respect, but he showed it through skill and experience. He was the kind of man who simply knew what it meant to lead.

But among us fifty boys, the hunger to be first — to rise above the rest — simmered.

That was when Captain broke our thoughts with a sharp snap of his pointing stick.

Whack!

The sound stung the air, and all eyes turned to him.

“Alright,” he said, “I know some of you are wondering who among you is fit to be a leader. Out of fifty, who is qualified? The strongest? The most skilled? The one with the loudest voice to bark orders?” He paused, then smirked. “Too bad. It’s none of those.”

“!?” Murmurs rippled through the room. Even I was caught off guard.

Turning to the board, Captain began to write. His chalk screeched, and then the word was there, simple and plain.

“This,” he said, tapping the word, “is the essence of a true leader.”

We leaned forward.

Serve.

Confusion filled the room. Why that word? Why not strength, or skill, or charisma?

The word slipped out of my mouth before I realized it: “…Serve?”

Captain nodded, his eyes calm, his smile steady.

“I don’t expect you to understand it now,” he said. “Maybe only a handful of you even glimpse what it means. But don’t forget this word. Someday, when you’re out there, facing danger beside your brothers, you’ll know. You’ll understand what it means to lead—”

He tapped the board once more.

“—and what it means to serve.”

That was the past…

And now, here I was, standing in the middle of a forest, before a cave that reeked of death. Beside me, Mario sat ever so composed, eyes closed, body stilled in meditation.

As of this moment, we were meditating.

Or at least…trying to.

Meditating.

It’s hard.

It’s really hard when everything is crumbling by the day… and this is our final day.

Almost half of our numbers are still battered from past battles, and the rest—scared. No… we were all scared. Scared that if we moved again, this step might be our last.

It’s only natural to fear death.

It’s the most natural thing in the world.

And right now, I’m the most afraid of all.

No matter how much I try, I can’t shake it—the clawing feeling that grips me every time I face a monster.

If I could, I would scream. Shout. Let out everything boiling inside me.

But I can’t.

If I did, they’d look at me with even more fear. And if that happened… our chances of finishing this task would shatter.

Not today. I can’t break today.

“Khk… I can’t focus,” I muttered, failing to reach even a shred of peace.

“You’re thinking too much,” Mario replied calmly. “Your mind is drowning in noise.”

Frustrated, I slammed my hand against the ground and yelled.

“How can I focus!? Everything’s been dumped on my shoulders—and it’s all because I awakened my core! I’m the only one who has a real chance of pulling this off without getting the others killed! How am I supposed to focus when everything is collapsing!? I see it in their eyes, Mario! Everyone’s scared… everyone wants to go home! I want to go home!!”

“…I get it… I really do,” Mario said quietly. Then his eyes opened, steady and sharp despite the exhaustion in his body.

“But you need to pull yourself together. Right now, at this very moment… everyone is looking at you. Not because you’re the strongest, not because you awakened your core, but because you’re the one keeping us together. Without Captain here, they’re searching for someone to hold onto—and that someone is you.”

I froze, Mybreath caught in my chest.

Mario leaned closer, his voice unwavering.

“They’re following your orders because you’re trying your best to lead us through this. That’s why they trust you. Not because of power. Not because of glory. But because you’re serving them. Since the beginning, you’ve been doing your best to try and not fuck up.”

Astin’s mind flashed back—chalk scraping against a board, a single word circled in white.

Mario’s words cut deeper.

“Remember what Captain told us that day? Being a leader isn’t about being the strongest. It isn’t about charisma. It’s about service. About putting your people before yourself. That’s what you’ve been doing, Astin—even if you don’t see it.”

Serve.

That one word hit me harder than the ogre’s fists ever could.

For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe. My throat tightened, my chest felt heavy. I thought back to Captain’s lecture, to that single word that confused me back then. I didn’t understand it at all—not until now.

Mario was right. The boys weren’t following me because of some awakened core. Half the time, I couldn’t even summon it on command. They weren’t following me because I was stronger or braver or smarter.

They were following me because… I was trying. Because I refused to give up on them.

It wasn’t strength. It wasn’t skill. It was just… serving.

I closed my eyes, fighting against the shaking in my chest. Maybe I wasn’t Captain. Maybe I’d never match up to the kind of leader he was. But right now, I had to be enough. For them.

For all of us.

I drew in a long breath, closing my eyes.

The fear was still there, crawling under my skin, whispering that I wasn’t enough. But I shoved it aside and remembered Mario’s words. Serve. That was all that mattered now.

I steadied my grip on my sword and sat straighter, letting the hilt rest against my lap. The cold steel felt heavier than usual, but maybe it was just the weight of what I was about to attempt.

“…Focus,” I muttered under my breath.

Inside me, I searched for that strange ember I had felt during the battle with the ogre. That fleeting moment where fear and desperation had collided, and something had cracked open inside my chest. Back then it had burned wild, uncontrolled, carrying me forward in a single blinding strike.

Now, I needed to find it again—not as a wildfire, but as a steady flame.

At first, nothing came. Only silence. Only the sound of the wind gnawing at the forest outside.

Then—faintly—I felt it.

Like a dull thrum in my veins, a quiet pulse beneath my skin. It wasn’t overwhelming. It wasn’t all-consuming. But it was there.

I pulled at it carefully, afraid it would vanish if I gripped too tightly. My body tensed, my breath caught. And slowly… it stirred.

The weight of the sword in my lap changed. It felt lighter, sharper, as if it wanted to move with me rather than against me. My arms grew steadier, my senses sharper, every sound around me clearer than before.

But only for a moment. The ember flickered, threatening to die out. I forced myself not to panic, to hold it as best I could.

Sweat rolled down my face despite the cold. My heartbeat hammered, not from fear this time, but from focus.

This… this was about twenty, maybe twenty-five percent of what I’d felt against the ogre. Not enough to overwhelm, not enough to unleash something devastating—but enough. Enough to sharpen my sword, enough to let me stand against what was coming.

I exhaled slowly, opening my eyes.

For the first time since awakening my core, I didn’t feel like I was drowning in it. I felt like I was learning to swim.

“…I think I understand now,” I whispered

Mario tilted his head. “Understand what?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I rose to my feet, my hand tightening around the hilt of my sword. The dead bulk of the two-headed ogre still lay slumped in the snow, its massive chest riddled with shallow cuts and broken arrows. Even in death, its hide looked impenetrable, as if mocking the futility of our struggle.

I stepped toward it. Mario frowned. “Astin, what are you—”

“Just watch.”

I lifted the blade, steadying my breathing. The thrum inside me pulsed again—quiet, restrained, but sharp. My body felt lighter, my sword steadier, the motion natural.

I swung.

Shhhhkkk!

The steel carved into the ogre’s chest with a sound like tearing stone. A single, clean line split the monster’s tough hide where dozens of desperate strikes earlier had barely left scratches.

Mario’s eyes widened.

“…That hide…” he muttered.

I pulled the blade free and swung again. This time, the edge cut straight through the ogre’s thick neck, severing one of its heads with shocking ease. It tumbled into the snow with a heavy thud.

The boys had struggled in droves to wound it. I had nearly died trying to pierce its heart. And now… with just this fraction of power, it felt effortless.

I lowered my blade, panting softly, steam rising from my breath in the cold. “This… this is what I felt back then,” I said, my voice trembling—not from fear, but from exhilaration. “It’s not all of it… but it’s enough. Enough to cut through.”

Mario stood stunned for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face. “So… you’ve found it. You’ve learned how to hold it.”

I nodded, gripping my sword tighter. The flicker inside me was still unstable, threatening to fade at any moment. But for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of losing it. I knew it was there. And I knew I could call on it again.

‘Incredible…in just under thirty minutes, he was able to awaken his core to this level even after going through a crisis? Astin really was born with such talents.’ Thought Mario as he was amazed by the sheer skill that Astin presented before him.

“Get ready Mario. We don’t have much time left.” I said as I turned towards the camp, toward the weary faces of the boys who were resting by the fire.

I straightened my back and started approaching them. When I was close enough, I planted my sword into the snow with a sharp thunk. Giving about a confident face.

“Listen up!” My voice carried across the clearing, firm and steady despite the storm raging inside me. “We don’t have the luxury of wasting time anymore. Do what you can, sharpen your blades, and patch up your armor. As soon as the meal is done and we finish eating, we move.”

A ripple of surprise spread among them. Someone muttered, “Move… already?”

I didn’t flinch. “Yes. We’re finishing this before the sun sets. The other two-headed ogre, the thornhide maulers, and the Frostbound Colossus—every last one of them. We only have half a day left, and if we hesitate, then all of this was for nothing.”

The boys fell silent. Exhaustion weighed on them, fear gnawed at them, but in their eyes I saw something flicker to life. A spark. A belief.

I gripped my sword tighter and raised it just enough for the light to catch its edge.

“We end it today,” I declared. “So get ready.”

***

The stench of blood reached us before the cave came into view.

Through the drifting veil of snow, I spotted it—hunched at the cavern’s mouth, the two-headed ogre tearing into the carcass of a deer. Its thick hands ripped flesh with ease, and both mouths chewed noisily, with both slobber and gore dripping into the snow.

The sight froze us in place. Every boy stiffened, remembering the last fight, the terror of being swatted aside like insects. They couldn’t help but be afraid.

I raised my hand. “Hold,” I whispered.

The boys stopped, steadying their breaths. This wasn’t the same as before. We had caught it in the open this time, distracted, unaware.

I turned to the archers at the rear. “We start with arrows. Spread out and surround the ogre. Once that happens, Aim for its eyes. Don’t stop at any given opportunity. Garon, I leave the archers at your command.”

Garon nodded and lead the archers to the sides, seperating themselves from us.

“As for us, Spearmen, wait until it charges. You know where to strike—eyes again, and the soft spots under the arms. Don’t scatter this time. Move as one.” I said as I gave the order of where to strike.

Unlike our first attack, this second attack comes with the knowledge of the Ogre’s weakness or at least one of its more vulnerable spots in the body. With just a few examinations from the corpse we killed, we figured out a few places where the skin was more softer and could be able to be pierced through with a spear.

Finally, I looked at the swordsmen. “You know where you need to cut. Aim at its tendons instead of its skin head on. We can do more damage to its movements by cutting through its tendons.” I said.

They swallowed, nodding.

After about a minute of the archers preparing their place, they then give the signal and we decided to move ahead.

I drew my sword out, the cold steel gleaming in the faint light. “On me. Fire.”

The first volley cut through the air with a whistle.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Arrows buried themselves into the ogre’s shoulders, one grazing across a head’s cheek. When this happened, both heads jerked up at once in a curious manner. Their beady eyes narrowed down to where the arrows were coming from. But then, another volley followed before it could even stand—this time, one arrow sank deep into the left head’s eye.

At that moment, the head of the ogre howled in pain, its sound shaking the air, their blood streaming down its face.

But despite its angered state, we didn’t hesitate to throw more.

“Again!” I shouted.

The archers loosed, faster this time. The right head reeled back as an arrow embedded into its brow. It wasn’t blinded yet, but its vision blurred. Because of my shout, its attention locked on the shadowy forms in the snow—us.

The ogre roared and lumbered to its feet, in its anger, it threw its meal to the side. Its massive arms spread wide as it bellowed. The sound rattled my chest, but I raised my sword high.

“Spears—forward!”

The front line surged. Long iron tips glinted as they drove straight for the beast’s face. The ogre swung, a brutal swipe meant to smash us aside—but no one was caught. The spearmen had learned. They ducked, slipped past, and thrust upward in perfect sync.

Shhk!

Two spears pierced into the ogre’s left eye, already bloodied from arrows. The head shrieked and thrashed, clawing at its ruined vision.

The other head roared in rage and swung again.

“Move!” I yelled.

The spearmen pulled back just as the fist crashed into the snow, exploding white powder into the air. Not one of them was caught.

Arrows whistled again, raining from behind. The right head screamed as another arrow lodged deep into its eye socket.

The ogre staggered, both heads howling now, half-blind, arms flailing.

“Now! Keep it off balance!” I commanded.

Spears stabbed low at its arms. Swordsmen rushed in, slashing at tendons. Every strike was shallow, but every one drew blood, slowing the beast further.

In that moment, I saw the Ogre being overwhelmed again. So seeing that chance, I saw the opening. And as if in instinct, My core stirred faintly, that flicker I’d fought so hard to grasp finally acted in the way I wanted.

To my core’s awakening, my limbs lightened, my grip steadied.

And without fear, I darted in beneath its wild swings. My blade flashed forward, carving into its thigh. The flesh parted deeper than any spear or sword could make, and in result, the blood sprayed hot across the snow.

The ogre shrieked, stumbling as its knee buckled.

“Press it!” I bellowed.

The boys roared in unison, a sound born of fear turned into fury. They surged forward, blades and spears stabbing in relentless rhythm. Each strike was aimed, practiced. They weren’t panicked anymore. They weren’t flailing.

We were fighting like soldiers.

The ogre swung wildly again, but every strike met only air. The boys moved as one, dodging, circling, stabbing in unison. Its brutality had no grip on us anymore.

My core flared again, just enough. I felt the rhythm of battle, as well as the weight of my sword as though it was part of my body.

“Mario!” I called.

He understood instantly. He barreled forward, hammer slamming into the ogre’s other knee. Bone cracked beneath the impact.

The beast toppled to one side, balance shattered.

I sprinted forward, heart hammering, every ounce of strength pouring into the strike. My sword plunged up beneath its ribs, carving deep. The flesh gave way, hot blood rushing over my hands.

Both heads screamed in agony, thrashing violently.

“Arrows!” I roared. “Finish the eyes!”

The volley fell like rain, and in result, the both heads snapped back. Arrows pierced through all of their eyes at last…leaving them with no vision.

The ogre wailed, stumbling backward, while its massive arms swung uselessly in the empty air. But despite being blind, Its power was still terrifying, yet its fury had no aim anymore.

“Drive it down!” I shouted.

Spears plunged into its chest, its shoulders, its arms. Swords hacked at its legs, tearing bloody rents in its hide.

And me—I stayed close, driving my blade again and again into the wounds I’d opened. Each strike deeper than the last, each fueled by that faint, glowing ember inside me.

The ogre stumbled, bellowing one final time. I twisted my blade into its side, feeling it sink deep, then wrenched upward toward its heart.

With a sound like tearing stone, the sword broke through.

Both heads let out a final, strangled roar—then fell silent.

The beast collapsed into the snow, shaking the earth with its weight.

For a long moment, none of us moved. Only the sound of heavy breathing filled the air.

Then, slowly, the boys lowered their weapons. No one had fallen. Not a single boy was crushed, thrown, or mangled like before. We stood together, whole.

And as I pulled my blade free from the ogre’s still chest, I realized my hands were steady. My core dimmed again, slipping into silence—but not before leaving me with certainty.

I could wield it. Even a little. Enough to make a difference.

The boys looked at me, their eyes wide with something I hadn’t seen before—not fear, not despair. But belief.

I raised my bloodied sword high. “That’s two down,” I said, my voice carrying clear in the frozen air. “Rest quick, sharpen your blades. The thornhide maulers are next—and then the Frostbound Colossus. We finish it before the sun sets.”

For the first time, their answering shout was not of fear, but of resolve.

And just like that…killing the ogre only lasted about fifteen minutes. It was half the time it took to take down the first one.

And we were proud of that result. We were growing…through our actions, we were growing.

“…We can do this.” I said with a heavy yet direct tone.