Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 105 - 105 - Knowing How to Win a Gamble
Chapter 105 - Knowing How to Win a Gamble
"Catch them!"
The enemy soldiers' shouts echoed, and, as expected, they began chasing madly.
Enkrid glanced behind him and subtly changed direction.
Thud.
A pile of dirt suddenly collapsed near where he was about to pass.
It wasn't a sign of structural collapse.
Just a symbol of bad luck.
'No, today might actually be a lucky day.'
After all, the quarrel had only grazed his head instead of hitting him directly—he could consider that fortunate.
The tip of a long spear scraped across the ground as the enemy soldier charged forward furiously.
Although there had been one battle earlier,
'It wasn't enough to wear me out.'
The only real issue was the lack of light.
Finn, being a ranger and a Pathfinder veteran, practically had eyes on the soles of her feet, allowing her to see her way.
The darkness wouldn't trip her up.
The same went for Enkrid.
He had been mimicking Finn's steps for a while now.
While not perfect, he had learned to roughly gauge the shape of the terrain with the soles of his feet.
Besides, how many times had they taken this path?
If he tripped and broke his nose now, it wouldn't be a matter of talent but proof that he was using his head as a helmet stand.
Enkrid's memory was sharp, which helped both him and Finn navigate the darkness without issue.
"Damn."
Only Torres struggled.
He flinched in surprise whenever he stepped into a depression but quickly regained balance, thanks to his exceptional reflexes, and kept running.
Whoosh.
The sound of torches.
Scrape.
The occasional noise of spearheads grazing the cave ceiling.
Huff huff!
Beyond that, only the sound of ragged breaths echoed in the relentless chase.
Finn and Torres were the lightest on their feet, but it wasn't enough to outrun their pursuers completely.
It felt as if they would be caught at any moment.
As they kept running, moonlight began to filter in ahead.
The entrance—it was the opening to their escape.
Finn reached the slope first and threw a crossbow backward.
Enkrid picked it up and hurled it back with all his strength, thinking it might serve better as a thrown weapon than discarded.
A soldier chasing closely behind raised his shield to block it.
Thwack!
The crossbow wasn't made of the sturdiest material, and shards of wood flew as it bounced off the shield.
Though it slightly delayed their pursuers, it wasn't enough to make a significant difference.
Enkrid had thrown it just to give Torres, who was lagging slightly, a bit of help.
Torres noticed and nodded at Enkrid in gratitude—a silent thanks in his eyes and gesture.
'Gratitude at a time like this?'
Finn exited first, and Enkrid grabbed the edge of the slope to pull himself up.
As dirt and dust crumbled down, Torres ducked his head low.
"Wait."
Suddenly, Torres spoke.
He pulled out a dagger with his left hand, stabbed it into the incline of the tunnel, and turned his body sideways.
'Oh, now this is new.'
Leaning against the slanted wall, he balanced himself by holding the dagger while throwing with his free hand.
Enkrid hadn't seen him do this before.
Whoosh.
The daggers flew backward.
Thunk! Thunk!
The enemy soldiers, even after discarding their torches, blocked the daggers effortlessly with their shields.
"You bastards."
The two soldiers who blocked the daggers cursed harshly.
Their eyes gleamed fiercely—it was clear they wouldn't let them die peacefully if caught.
Enkrid knew this too well.
He had been caught before.
The outcome wasn't pleasant.
You'd either be skewered on a spear,
or have a blade buried in your skull.
No death was ever truly welcome.
"Damn."
Seeing his daggers blocked, Torres clicked his tongue in frustration.
Even in the dim light of torches and moonlight, they had managed to block the attack.
No ordinary training could produce such soldiers.
Torres realized something as he watched the soldiers block his dagger.
'They're border defenders.'
In other words, getting caught meant death.
Even with Enkrid, who had reached out a hand to help him climb,
'No, that's not an option.'
"How many do you think we can handle?"
He asked as their hands met.
"If we meet them separately, we could probably take them all, but like this... no chance."
Enkrid admitted there was no answer to the current situation.
Yet, oddly, his face seemed calm.
Why was he so composed?
Torres wondered as he climbed faster.
Behind them, one of the spear-wielding soldiers showed off similar skills to Torres.
Whoosh.
He threw a shortsword as if it were a throwing knife.
'Impressive.'
Enkrid thought as he drew his blade to deflect it.
Clang!
The shortsword struck the middle of his blade and bounced off, embedding itself in the ground nearby.
The blue-tinged blade reflected the moonlight and torchlight, glinting with a red-and-blue hue.
"Quickly!"
Enkrid's sharp command pushed Torres to move even faster.
"Out!"
Finn, who had exited first, quickly pulled the string of her remaining crossbow and locked it in place.
As Enkrid and Torres stepped aside, Finn fired.
Thunk!
The bolt vanished into the shadowy tunnel, disappearing among the flickering torchlight.
A single shot—that was all the crossbow could manage.
A faint
thud
sounded from within, but there was no time to confirm whether it had hit a head or been blocked by a shield.
"Run."
This time, Finn gave the order, immediately taking off. Enkrid and Torres followed, with Torres in the middle and Enkrid bringing up the rear.
The direction they ran was toward the campsite where the main unit had originally been stationed.
Finn kept running, her mind racing with thoughts.
'Where should we go?'
Back to the main unit?
But what if this was a trap deliberately laid out for them?
Heading toward the riverbank?
What if Aspen's rangers were lurking there?
No, making any conspicuous moves would attract beasts and monsters.
Sure, a dozen or so ghouls might be manageable.
But what if they ended up unlucky and ran into a colony?
Facing a colony of beasts or monsters with a small group was pure suicide.
A group of wandering beasts was one thing, but a colony—a collective called a "pack"—was on an entirely different level.
As a ranger, Finn understood the ecosystem of beasts and monsters all too well.
'What's the worst-case scenario here?'
Getting captured.
Beasts and monsters could be dealt with later.
"Head for the campsite."
Enkrid resolved Finn's dilemma with his decision.
Finn glanced behind her.
At the very back, Enkrid was following them.
All three of them were panting, but his eyes and mouth somehow conveyed a strange sense of composure.
'Why?'
Why did he look so composed?
Oh, his mouth was closed.
Despite running like this, he wasn't gasping for air.
Even Finn was starting to feel breathless.
Wasn't his gear heavier than hers?
He even had a longsword strapped to his waist, yet he ran with such ease.
Finn didn't ask why he'd chosen that direction.
All she could do was follow his judgment.
Enkrid didn't interfere further with Finn's decisions.
After all, no matter where they went, they were already in a dire situation.
'She'll figure it out.'
Most likely, Finn would follow his lead and head to the campsite.
Retracing their steps as much as possible, as that was a ranger's instinct—to follow paths they deemed safe.
Having lived through this day several times, Enkrid knew her habits.
As they ran back, Enkrid's hands began moving swiftly.
He unbuckled his sword from his belt, scabbard and all, and started swinging it while running.
More precisely, he stabbed the ground with the sword before lifting it up.
Thunk, whoosh, thunk, whoosh.
Each swing of the sword sent flat stones into the air.
Enkrid used his sword like a club, smacking the stones backward.
"Humph!"
Five spearmen, trailing closely behind, were part of the fastest in their unit.
One of the foremost spearmen scoffed.
He found it laughable that Enkrid was trying to block their path with mere flat stones.
He didn't even bother raising his shield, instead thrusting his spear forward.
There was no need to dodge. He intended to knock it away and maintain his speed.
Clack.
The spearman thought he'd succeeded—until a shadow traced a bizarre curve in the air.
Hiss!
"Aagh!"
It was a snake.
A snake had been clinging flat to the underside of the stone.
"Damn it!"
The spearman hurriedly drew his shortsword and swung it.
Slash!
The snake's body was severed in two. It wasn't a beast.
But it was venomous.
One of the spearmen was unlucky.
A viper sprang out from beneath a stone, coiling around his shin and sinking its fangs into the gap between his boots and armor.
While the venom wasn't fatal, it caused intense pain and a numbing sensation in his leg.
The bitten spearman pulled out a dagger and stabbed the snake's head.
Stab.
Blood and yellowish fluid oozed from the dead snake's mouth.
"It's a viper!"
The soldier tore off his dagger sheath, using it as a makeshift tourniquet to tie above his calf.
He stopped in his tracks.
Naturally, the others slowed their pace as well.
"Damn it, vipers? Those sneaky bastards."
The venom-stricken soldier gritted his teeth and glared ahead.
Meanwhile, Enkrid continued his peculiar routine of smacking stones with his scabbarded sword.
At first, it was stones with vipers underneath.
Later, it included ordinary stones as well.
For anyone without the knowledge to distinguish between them, they had no choice but to dodge or block everything.
"You bastard."
The pursuing commander, seeing the situation, narrowed his eyes.
They had been so close to capturing that wildcat of a woman.
"Raise your shields and keep running!"
His judgment was spot on. Whether it was stones or snakes, soldiers with their shields raised and eyes focused could no longer be impeded.
Of course, Enkrid never expected to stop them with snakes alone.
'Looks like what I learned from Enri is coming in handy.'
He remembered Enri mentioning vipers that hid under flat, clay-colored stones.
Passing through this path, he put that knowledge to use.
It proved very effective.
One man was down, and the rest had been slowed.
"Phew, phew, why the campsite?"
Now that their pursuers had slowed, Finn adjusted her speed and moved alongside Enkrid, questioning him.
Torres, equally curious, approached as well.
Enkrid glanced behind and answered.
"Phew. We need allies if we're going to face that many enemies."
Finn frowned at his response.
"Haah, ha, but the campsite's already abandoned. My unit has relocated."
She misunderstood.
So did Torres.
Feigning surprise, Enkrid replied,
"Even so, we can't suddenly change direction now. We'll use the campsite as a pivot and decide our next course."
With that, he naturally took the lead, dropping formalities as he spoke.
Finn and Torres realized there was no other choice.
They had to keep going.
Their pursuers were closing in, visible through the mist of their labored breaths.
Despite the heavy gear, the soldiers moved with remarkable discipline, maintaining perfect formation as they ran.
It was impressive.
How well-trained must they be to achieve this level of coordination?
Seeing this, Finn realized their identity.
"Damn it, they're probably Grey Hounds."
The Grey Hounds, also known as the Persistent Lovers unit.
To most, they were infamous as relentless hunters.
Enkrid had his own history with them.
Mitch Hurrier was part of their unit.
They had even sent him the infamous Whistle Dagger, disguised as a gift from a half-blood elf.
Facing them was akin to taking on an elite force comparable to the frontier defense units.
Feigning surprise, Enkrid said,
"Oh, really?"
Though his tone was oddly composed, Finn and Torres were too focused on escaping to dwell on it.
The stronger the opponent, the better.
Enkrid thought so to himself.
He had experienced seventy-eight iterations of this day.
During that time, he had honed his skills to outmaneuver dozens of elite soldiers and had extracted vital information from a man named Roger by cleverly asking the right questions.
Now, he was putting all that knowledge to use.
All three picked up their pace, driven by the sight of their pursuers gaining ground.
"Phew! Huff! Damn bastards!"
Torres regulated his breathing as he ran.
"Damn persistent dogs!"
Finn, while cursing, showed no signs of giving up.
As they approached the campsite, Enkrid deliberately took a detour.
Finn noticed but said nothing.
In situations like this, it was natural for the ranger to take the lead.
Yet Enkrid confidently took the front.
He pressed on ahead.
And what could they do but follow?
They finally reached the campsite.
The pits they had dug were now covered with dirt, leaving no trace.
A few lone trees stood nearby, along with some small mounds.
And beyond them lay an unexpected sight.
Awoooo!
Werewolves.
"Damn it!"
Over twenty werewolves had gathered in a pack—a colony led by an alpha at the front.
'This is the worst.'
Finn nearly gave up on life at that moment.
Torres, on the other hand, darted his eyes around, trying to assess the situation.
Only Enkrid remained calm, gathering his breath for what came next.
'This is the turning point.'
It was a gamble, but one that wasn't left to chance after so many repeated attempts.
A calculated gamble to secure victory.
Enkrid took a step forward.

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