"Only two people."
Roland told his companion, and at this moment, not only could he himself not panic, but he had to make sure his partner didn't either. After all, it takes teamwork to break through the situation.
"So... maybe we can give it a shot,"
Sidors heard the number and his initial fear eased a bit, without doubting Roland's judgment. The warning from the gray dog had already proven its reliability. If a dog can be trusted, how much more so can its owner?
"Listen to my command when we move."
Roland took the lead, and at this point, someone had to be in charge.
After his companion nodded, Roland glanced toward the nearby shrubs, where the small black dog was hiding, ready to act. It was truly a懂事 dog, with a connection so sharp it was almost supernatural.
Now, after confirming the number, it was time to determine the exact location.
If someone could be spotted in this dark forest, their position couldn't be far.
Definitely within 40 paces.
After all, under the moonlight, he could only see about 30 paces at most.
With two shoulders and one head, their vision wouldn't differ much.
And since the enemy could shoot with precision, this distance might be even closer.
Then, Roland turned to face the fallen logs, running his hand through the gray dog's fur, locking eyes with it. "Tell me, where are they?"
Thanks to the sharp intuition, the gray dog understood his owner's gaze. It immediately raised its head, fully focused on listening. Its nose also moved rhythmically, opening up both its hearing and sense of smell.
Then, it tilted its head to the left and nodded toward the right.
"One left, one right—set up a pincer."
Roland also understood the gray dog's warning.
These two brutes must be confident in their archery skills, and they're the kind that go down as soon as they show themselves.
No need to doubt it—when they used shields to distract earlier, their arrows didn't miss, they hit the shield right on the money.
But they were too arrogant.
Arrogant ones—deserve to die.
Now, it's time to turn the tables.
"Good dog, listen to me,"
Roland rubbed the gray dog's head, pointing to the left shrubs. Once the gray dog understood, he turned to Sidors and said, "When I shout 'move,' you immediately roll to the right and return to that tree, wanting to escape this situation. Don't question my decision."
"…Okay…"
Sidors, for the first time, saw a gentle side to his companion, and it showed a kind of determination mixed with coldness and ferocity. That was unshakable.
He immediately nodded, "Understood."
"Prep… move!"
Roland gave the command.
The gray dog sprang out of the fallen log cover, four legs pushing off the ground, sprinting left with speed.
Meanwhile, Sidors gritted his teeth and rolled to the right.
At this moment,
Roland crouched behind the fallen logs, peeking cautiously and quickly at the surroundings.
One left, one right—two brutes, only twelve or thirteen paces away.
Both holding bows, aiming at the fallen logs on either side where the noise came from.
But they completely missed the central log behind which Roland was standing, holding a crossbow.
Ping!
The crossbow fired, hitting the left brute's shoulder directly. The latter, caught off guard, let go of the bowstring, and the arrow shot out, flying somewhere unknown.
At the same time, Roland shouted, "Small black, come up."
He then crouched down.
The right brute's arrow, meanwhile, grazed Roland's head.
The right brute immediately rolled on the ground, pulling an arrow from the quiver, restringing the bow, and aiming.
Suddenly, a shadow jumped out from behind him.
With a low growl, it tackled the brute to the ground. Then, Roland felt a warm, sharp sensation on his neck, followed by a bone-deep pain.
Small black was on top of the enemy, biting fiercely into its neck, and its head was wildly shaking, tearing at the wound.
"Whew—"
Sidors, leaning against the tree trunk, took a deep breath, gripping the crude spear tightly, his facial muscles tense, preparing for the final push.
After the struggle, he roared and charged out, joining small black for support.
The left brute, with an arrow in his shoulder, was caught off guard by the sudden change. He had expected only a dog, not another.
This was something he and his partner hadn't anticipated. They had watched for so long, yet didn't notice.
At this moment, his hand, which had just pulled an arrow from the quiver, showed signs of trembling due to panic.
He pulled the arrow, restringed the bow, and raised it toward small black.
"Look at this!"
Roland jumped out from behind the fallen logs, holding the crude spear high, stepping forward to charge, "Give me a damn!"
As the brute was about to draw the arrow, he hastily turned and ducked, barely managing to avoid the spear.
Roland stopped, aiming the crossbow.
In the middle of the night, bet on whether you can see if I have an arrow or not.
The brute, seeing Roland raise the crossbow, instinctively rolled onto the ground, his injured shoulder hitting the earth, causing him to grit his teeth in pain.
After regaining his stance, he half-crouched, realizing Roland was still holding the crossbow, and finally saw it was empty.
Being tricked made him furious.
He roared, reaching for his belt knife, ready to engage in close combat.
At this moment, a gray shadow jumped out from the left, knocking the brute down before he could get up.
Small gray bit into his throat, locking on tightly, and wildly shaking its head.
Roland dropped the crossbow, pulled out his dagger, and pounced, pinning the brute down and grabbing his knife hand. The dagger slashed repeatedly at his abdomen and waist.
Until the brute was completely incapacitated.
On the other side, the brute had been stabbed through the back by Sidors' spear.
The clash was over.
Close call.
Roland caught his breath, stood up, and picked up the bloodied dagger, smiling at Sidors.
The latter was weakly lying on the ground, and he couldn't even smile.
First time as a mercenary, dropped into the reconnaissance squad, first time killing, everything felt so unreal, like it was a dream.
It wasn't until his partner came over, extended a hand, and pulled him up that he finally realized it wasn't a dream.
It was a heart-pounding, eye-for-eye battle, led by this person.
They won.
"Roland, thanks. If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead here today."
"Your contribution was crucial."
"…You know, I was about to die."
Sidors, catching his breath, looked at his companion who was now crouching over the brute's body, collecting loot. He noticed how calm the companion was.
At this moment, he completely respected the person in front of him, and immediately said, "Roland, from now on I'll follow you. Whatever you tell me to do, I'll do. I'll also witness your achievements and report every detail without skipping a single one."
"Thank you, I'll also witness your effort,"
Roland continued collecting.
As for witnessing achievements, this is the Loi way of recording merit.
It's also called companion verification, originally meant to bring companions closer.
But this method, when reporting achievements, might add a bit of fluff.
Roland took the brute's tooth necklace, which might not be valuable, but it could serve as a physical proof of merit.
Not because he didn't trust his partner, but to keep proof—good tradition.
Roland then turned to look at the two dogs beside him.
They were the real heroes of the night.
He then gave them a glance: good job, back to camp for a treat.
Small black and small gray immediately came up, licking their owner's face.
"One… two… three…
Looking at it, Roland got goosebumps.
Because they had no intention of stopping licking his forearm, and it was getting faster and more frequent.
So much licking… how many people is that?