Chapter Text
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Enkrid came from a small village, one far too unremarkable to be remembered.
The only daughter of her parents, she was orphaned shortly after birth and taken in by a local church to help with minor chores. Initially, she was intended to become a priestess to carry on the faith. However, possessing a temperament ill-suited for the traditional expectations of a woman preferring to practice swordsmanship or constantly volunteering to assist hunters in bringing food back to the church she loved trying new things and was often quietly stubborn to the point of causing headaches. Eventually, the expectations for her to become a priestess were dropped.
Enkrid possessed a beautiful face; her fair skin contrasted sharply with her raven black hair, paired with eyes the color of the deep ocean. At first, she had no clear goal in life. She simply tried whatever she wanted
hunting, cooking, farming, and finally, swordplay.
Strangely, the very thing that seemed most unsuited for a young girl made her heart swell. The blood in her veins boiled, screaming that this was what she was meant for. She was born for this.
By the age of fifteen, Enkrid had grown into a stunning young woman whom the village men couldn't help but stare at. But those blue eyes looked only at the tip of her blade. She defeated grown men and those who were all talk, fueling a confidence that blazed into an unquenchable ambition.
“Enkrid, you are a genius...”
These words, spoken by her mentor a former soldier with a disabled leg became the sweetest poison in her life. She became obsessed with the enchanting, dreamlike ballads of wandering minstrels telling tales of the Knights of the End.
Enkrid in her youth was so captivated by those songs she couldn't pull herself away. She dreamed that one day, clad in shining armor and wielding a radiant sword, she would conquer enemies across the continent and become a great knight.
But the outside world was not as kind as the people in her village.
When she set out at eighteen, her beauty became a double-edged sword. Many male mercenaries viewed her as a mere ornament rather than a comrade-in-arms. She was overlooked, insulted, and treated as something weak that needed protection. Enkrid hated it. She told them to stop and see her as a fellow warrior, but she was met only with mocking laughter.
In just two months in the outside world, she was taught the meaning of defeat over and over again. The reality that she was not the genius she had been led to believe struck her hard across the face. Thus, Enkrid practiced. She trained and trained until both hands were calloused and cracked, until her eyes grew dark from late-night drills, all so that one day her sword would be strong enough to make her a knight
or at least, the genius she had always been told she was. Even when her mentors, out of genuine concern, told her that her skills were lacking and advised her to give up the sword, she refused.
The young woman possessed an immense perseverance, far exceeding that of some grown men. The belief that effort never betrays anyone forged her character. Eventually, people stopped warning her because they realized it was useless.
However, her long-built effort and confidence collided with a wall at the age of twenty-seven, when she was defeated by a twelve-year-old boy who possessed more talent than she had gained in ten years of training.
‘Just... five moves?’
Enkrid stared at her sword, which had been knocked from her hand, while clutching her bleeding stomach. She had lost to a boy who had only held a sword for six months and was half her age.
The boy apologized and offered a pouch of coins for her medical treatment. Enkrid saw the way he looked at her.
Don't look at me like that.
Please.
Don't look at me as if I'm weak.
She was mortified. Physical wounds could heal, but her internal confidence was fractured. Yet, Enkrid shook off those negative thoughts. Sorrow would not make her stronger; only training could refine her skill.
After ten years as a mercenary, she decided to enlist in the regular army. She couldn't turn back to become a priestess, but she could at least be a good soldier.
“Are you really enlisting? It's a waste of a pretty face to die, little girl. Wouldn't it be better to find a rich man to marry?”
The recruitment officer said this with a look of pity. Enkrid didn't retaliate with words. She simply gripped her sword hilt until her knuckles turned white and nodded firmly to confirm her enlistment.
At first, there were many leering eyes and suggestive comments, though eventually, people didn't care much she was just a novelty. A female soldier wasn't a common sight.
But at the very least, everyone knows that the company commander is a woman, so disrespecting women in the military is not wise.
By age thirty, Enkrid received the position of Captain of the 4th Company, 4th Platoon, 4th Army, 4th Regiment otherwise known as the Trash unit.
To be honest, she didn't get the position solely based on skill. More accurately, she got it because no one else wanted to look after this unit.
Her first impression or rather, the unforgettable first encounter happened when she walked into the tent of Unit 444 and ran into a young man who appeared to be from a barbarian tribe. He was throwing a tantrum, blocking her path. If she remembered correctly, this was Rem the notorious troublemaker of her unit.
”That's enough”
A small hand reached in unexpectedly, causing the raised fist to freeze. Rem frowned and turned to look at the strange woman.
“...Who are you to stop me?”
"Your new Captain."
Enkrid spoke with a calm, flat expression. Rem's brow furrowed. He thought of the previous captains who had come and gone so quickly he couldn't even remember their names. But this strange woman, whose height barely reached his shoulder...
Enkrid met his gaze and spoke:
“I just received the position a moment ago. I hope you won't mind helping me out by stopping this.”
Rem hesitated for a long time, debating whether to listen, before finally stopping and watching her walk straight into the unit's tent.
The sound of footsteps, heavier and more deliberate than those of the other unit members, echoed inside the tent. Enkrid simply placed her belongings on a bed near the entrance and spoke in a flat tone to those nearby.
“I am Enkrid. I will be taking over as your Unit Leader. I hope we get along.”
Despite her words, her expression suggested she wasn't particularly concerned with the latter. She met each of their eyes; they all looked quite surprised to find that their new Corporal was a woman.
In truth, it was also her appearance that made them stare. Her skin wasn't quite as pale as someone who had never seen the sun, yet against her long, messy raven-black hair, it seemed bright. Her sharp, emotionless eyes were the color of the deep ocean. Her physique was well-proportioned and strong; though not as large as the men, she moved with an undeniable nimbleness.
Overall, she was the kind of woman whose striking looks stayed in one’s memory. However, she paid no mind to their gazes. Rem, who had been watching her, finally let out a sigh.
“I'm Rem. That one sleeping there is Ragna. The one with the big eyes is Kreise, and the giant is Audin”
Enkrid followed Rem's gestures, then knitted her brows.
“What about the other one?”
“You mean the wildcat? Who knows. Probably out playing somewhere.”
Enkrid gave a slight nod, etching the names into her memory. Although the atmosphere of Unit 444 was chaotic and reeked of gloom and despair, this was the new home she had been chosen for. She began organizing her simple belongings a single sword and two or three spare outfits onto the narrow wooden bed. Once finished, she walked out of the tent with her trusted blade, leaving four pairs of eyes to watch her straight.
In the days that followed, at the wide field at the edge of the camp, Enkrid began her training before the sun even cleared the horizon. The sound of a wooden sword cutting through the air
Swish! Swish!
rang out with steady consistency. Ragna, who had just woken up to relieve himself, froze when he saw the small woman swinging her sword with such relentless diligence.
Even though her footwork was fundamentally wrong, Ragna wasn't industrious enough to warn her. He simply collapsed back onto his bed and drifted off to sleep again.
Enkrid stood wiping the sweat dripping from her chin. She sank to the ground, staring blankly at her calloused hands before lying flat on her back, watching the sky transition from night to a golden dawn.
“Hah–”
As she pushed herself up, her eyes met another pair. A man stood not far away, his handsome face set in a cold, stoic expression. He was like a predator lurking in the brush, waiting for his prey to realize his presence on its own.
They locked eyes for a long moment. Enkrid guessed he was the final member of the unit, so she stood up and walked toward him.
“I'm Enkrid, your new Corporal.”
She spoke while looking at him with expectant eyes. The man remained silent for a long time before finally speaking.
“Sachsen.”
“Okay. Nice to meet you. I hope we get along.”
Sachsen didn't reply; he simply watched the back of the woman who turned away the moment she finished speaking. Enkrid brushed her long, sweat-soaked hair away from her neck and pouted slightly.
‘Looks like I’ll have to take a bath early this morning.’
…
During the first month, Enkrid's role as Corporal felt more like being a messenger or a mother. Seeing that the cooking duties were often neglected to the point where no one ever had a proper, full meal together, she took it upon herself to start a fire and boil a simple meat soup. She did it simply because she felt it needed to be done, never forcing anyone to join her.
“Eat. Otherwise, you won't have the energy to cause trouble”
she said briefly to Rem, who walked into the tent with a scowl.
Rem looked at the soup in the bowl and then at the woman's expressionless face. He took a bite and let out a scoff.
“It’s bland as hell. Does the Corporal have no talent for this?”
“If you don't like it, make it yourself.”
Despite his words, Rem took the soup, clearly a bit annoyed by her blunt retort.
...
For the most part, Ragna preferred to slack off and sleep, while Kreise spent his time quietly counting coins and planning business ventures. Enkrid never interfered in their private business; she respected their space as much as she cherished her own. Chores like laundry or washing dishes were mostly handled by her not because she was weak or trying to win them over, but because she was annoyed by the filth that might affect the unit’s health.
As for Audin, the silent giant, he seemed to be the one who accepted her most easily. He never protested, and occasionally, he would help answer her questions or lift heavy objects without being asked. The way he looked at Enkrid was a mix of pity and curiosity wondering where a woman got such stubbornness, or if God was testing her by making her struggle so much to prove herself.
And then there was Sachsen, the strangest of them all. He was like a ghost haunting the unit. Some days he would disappear entirely; some nights he would sit in the darkness, silently watching Enkrid sharpen her sword. She didn't find his gaze uncomfortable. To her, Sachsen was like a wildcat wary of a new homeowner. She just had to avoid doing anything that would irritate him.
Relationships progressed slowly but steadily. Eventually, Enkrid managed to organize a fair rotation for cooking and dishwashing. Although the men initially grumbled and tried to shove the work onto one another, seeing their female Corporal roll up her sleeves to cook (bland) meals and scrub pots until her hands were raw and red made them gradually follow suit.
“I’ll do the dishes. Go get some rest, Corporal,”
Rem said one evening, snatching the dishcloth from her hand. Enkrid nodded, murmured a brief thanks, and walked back to the tent. Her simplicity and lack of pretension were slowly eroding the prejudices of the rough men in her unit, layer by layer.
After several months in Unit 444, though they hadn't changed into completely different people, everyone could see a shift in the Trash unit. Scenes of Rem and Ragna fighting heatedly were often halted by the quiet appearance of their female leader.
“Creeping around like a cat, Corporal. Are you trying to imitate Sachsen?” Rem said, stopping his axe mid-swing toward Ragna.
“What are you two fighting about today?”
The other members, Audin and Kreise, rested their heads in their hands and sighed, watching her speak as if this were just a normal part of daily life. Enkrid watched the two exchange insults, knitted her brows, and told them they were being pathetic before finally making them separate.
“I don't get it. Why do those lunatics listen to a tiny woman like that?”
“What else? We all know she didn't get that rank because of her skills.”
The gossip, which was loud enough that it didn't seem intended to be private, reached Enkrid’s ears. She wasn't going to pay it any mind, but something made her stop in her tracks as they continued.
“The higher-ups probably just wanted a ‘Water Tank’ to provide some relief for the Trash unit, haha!”
Clack.
Enkrid paused slightly. She frowned in confusion. In the context of the church or hunters, the term Water Tank usually referred to an essential item that must be well-maintained or a store of supplies. But why did their tone sound so insulting and ugly? Before she could turn to ask anyone, the atmosphere around her shifted entirely.
It wasn't just silence; it was a palpable, sharp malice that surged out until the surrounding air turned ice-cold.
Enkrid turned to look at her unit members standing nearby. Rem, who usually wore a mocking smirk, now had a bulging vein at his temple, his right hand gripping his axe handle until his leather glove creaked. Ragna, who always looked lazy, was now wide awake, his sharp eyes glaring at the group of soldiers as if he wanted to tear them limb from limb. Even Audin, the kindest among them, had a face as dark as a storm cloud.
As for Sachsen, he had vanished from her sight, but Enkrid could sense a dark shadow lingering not far away.
“You guys... what's wrong?” Enkrid asked, frowning. “What does ‘Water Tank’ mean? Why are you so angry?”
“It’s nothing, Corporal...”
Kreise was the only one still trying to maintain his composure, but his eyes were strangely unfriendly. “Just some flies buzzing and talking nonsense. Didn't someone say the Corporal was summoned to Headquarters just now? You should hurry, or you’ll be late.”
“Oh... that's right.” Enkrid remembered. She had to go receive mission orders.
“Then I’ll leave things here to you. Don’t cause any trouble.”
She gave them a final instruction before walking away, leaving behind the members of Unit 444, who stood as still as deathly statues.
The moment Enkrid was out of sight, the soldiers' laughter was cut short by the heavy thud of Rem’s footsteps as he was the first to approach them.
“Just now... what did you pieces of filth call my Corporal?” Rem asked in a low voice, twirling his massive axe.
The soldiers turned pale instantly upon seeing the giant man, notorious for his madness, looming over them.
“H-hey, we were just joking...”
“Joking?” Ragna joined him, cracking his knuckles. “People like you don’t even have the right to utter the Corporal’s name with those filthy mouths.”
Audin stepped in last. The sheer pressure from his massive physique made the soldiers nearly collapse.
“God may teach forgiveness... but for those who insult a lady so unforgivably, I doubt God will welcome you when you die.”
That afternoon, in a dark corner behind the barracks, no one knew exactly what happened. There were only short screams muffled by mysterious hands. By that evening, the group of soldiers who had dared to speak foully of Enkrid were found in a state beyond recognition. Some had lost all their teeth; others had limbs broken in horrifying, sickening angles. One thing was certain: those men would never return to being soldiers or even normal people. They would be sent home as cripples the following day.
As for Enkrid, who had returned from her mission briefing, she noticed some soldiers avoiding her gaze and acting tense all along the way. It made her recall the incident from the morning while she started her cooking shift.
“That’s strange...”
Enkrid murmured as she began lighting the fire for the soup.
“In the end, what kind of bad meaning does that word have?”
Sachsen, who had appeared out of nowhere, sat down beside her and watched the rising flames.
“It’s a rather impolite term. But don’t worry. We’ve already helped them... realign their understanding.”
“Really? You guys are so kind.”
Enkrid spoke while stirring the soup in the pot. Sachsen didn’t reply. He merely stole a glance at the side of the woman’s face so calm, so unaware of the insults directed at her. In his heart, and in the hearts of everyone in the unit, the thought was the same:
Anyone who dares speak ill of our Corporal will have to live a life that feels like hell forever.
To be continued..