Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 109 - 109 - Setting Things on Fire
Chapter 109 - Setting Things on Fire
Enkrid locked eyes with the mage, Retsha.
"Mages have eyes too," he mused.
They also had noses and mouths—human features, after all.
"Humans all have reflexive actions," he remembered Jaxen teaching him.
And for that, he had prepared accordingly.
All Enkrid needed was to halt the vicious onslaught of thorny vines, even for a moment.
To do so, he had a hidden card—a technique he had practiced numerous times before.
What mattered most was timing.
Now was the moment.
Wielding his sword with his left hand, Enkrid parried and dodged the vines until one struck the top of his left wrist with a thud.
The leather gauntlet he had obtained from the sewer corpse fanatic was shredded.
In that instant, Enkrid raised his right hand high.
Retsha's brow twitched.
She had seen him throw weapons several times already, so her reaction was natural.
Retsha judged that whatever he threw wouldn't be a problem—her magical barrier could repel most physical forces.
But instead of a dagger, what flew toward her was a stone—a thin, crystal-like orb.
Flash!
A sudden burst of light erupted, far brighter than any torch.
Reflexively, everyone, including Retsha, who had fixed her gaze on the object Enkrid had thrown, was momentarily blinded.
For that brief instant, they lost their vision.
"Ssht," Enkrid inhaled sharply and moved.
He had waited for this moment, keeping his eyes on the ground the entire time.
The glowing stone, which he had obtained from the mage in thesewer, had been a hassle to figure out how to activate.
He hadn't anticipated using it this way.
By employing the "Hide Knife" technique to conceal and throw it, and by showing an empty hand to lure Retsha into complacency, his plan had worked perfectly.
This series of actions created a paper-thin opening, and for Enkrid, that was enough.
Thud.
The charging technique he had observed from a squire one day came to mind.
Lowering his stance, Enkrid dashed forward, gripping his sword with both hands.
As he shifted his weight from back to front, he swung the blade vertically with all his might.
Retsha, her vision just recovering, screamed when she saw it.
"Ahhh!"
Her cry became her final words—her epitaph.
Swoosh. Crack.
The barrier shattered.
It was a downward slash from a greatsword, delivered with full force, without hesitation for what might follow.
The blade struck Retsha's head.
Thunk.
Crack.
The blow broke through the barrier, tearing off her scalp, slicing her ear, splitting her collarbone, and exiting through her lower torso.
Splurt.
The blade disemboweled her, carving through three-quarters of her upper body.
By the time it emerged near her waist, it had severed one of her arms as well.
Chunks of flesh thudded to the ground as the mangled remains of the mage collapsed, spilling blood and entrails onto the floor.
What could such a person say in their final moments?
The light in her eyes faded instantly.
Whatever she had intended to do in those last seconds was clear.
Behind Enkrid, the vines twitched once before collapsing lifelessly.
"Hah..."
Only then did Enkrid exhale the breath he had been holding.
He had known Retsha's barrier would break under sufficient force—a weighty, focused strike would do the job.
Her disregard for daggers and her reaction to Finn's axe had been hints.
This battle had been a culmination of everything he had learned, repeated countless times today.
Even the glowing stone, hidden and utilized with the Hide Knife technique, had been part of the plan.
"Aren't you going to finish the rest?" Enkrid asked, snatching the glowing stone.
The light would surely alert the city's inner forces and the walls' guards.
Time was short.
Swoosh.
Finn moved first, with Torres following close behind.
There weren't many soldiers left.
Screams echoed atop the walls as the remaining enemies fell.
The moonlight bathed Enkrid, and even Torres and Finn, along with the enemy soldiers, saw the glow emanating from his back like a halo.
He exuded an aura that felt anything but human—something entirely different.
The scent of blood mingled with the faint aroma of roses atop the wall.
It was an oddly intoxicating smell, like a newly crafted perfume, unique and memorable.
Once they descended beyond the wall, it became Finn's domain.
As if prepared in advance, she moved to a specific spot, dug into the ground, and retrieved a bundle.
"Supplies for emergencies," she explained.
It seemed likely that an informant, someone referred to as "Cat," had prepared it.
Inside the bundle was a dirty tarp.
Without hesitation, she tossed it to Enkrid and Torres.
While they draped the filthy covering over their heads at the outskirts of the slum pressed against the wall, Finn silenced two curious beggars who had poked their heads nearby.
With barely a sound, their necks snapped.
Her precision was impressive—quintessential Finn.
Enkrid had witnessed her Eil Karaz fighting style mature into a skillful art through repeated encounters today.
The majority of the slum's residents paid no attention, meaning there were no more witnesses.
Under the cover of darkness and the tattered tarp, the three vanished into the shadows.
Trailing behind, Enkrid fell into deep thought.
Repetition.
As always, he replayed the day in his mind.
When repeating today's events, Enkrid faced three distinct paths.
Would choosing one and forcing his way through it suffice?
"Is it even necessary to choose just one?"
As he let go of the tension in his shoulders, clarity came to him.
Why choose one path when he could use all three walls?
Perhaps it was possible.
The grey hounds' trap offered experience in being surrounded by elite forces.
Battling the Lykanos pack taught him how to fight and evade in chaotic skirmishes.
And Retsha, with her rose vines, had been an excellent textbook opponent.
To Enkrid, the grey hounds, the Lykanos, and Retsha were all training tools—valuable resources.
Thus, he constructed "today" with them.
"It wasn't bad, all things considered."
His wrist throbbed where the blow had landed on his gauntlet.
Some attacks had been unavoidable, but his leather armor had absorbed the brunt of them.
No fatal injuries.
"Shh, keep your head down. Patrol," Finn whispered.
Enkrid ducked his head, feigning sleep.
With most of their equipment hidden and the tarp draped over them, their disguise was complete.
"This stench is awful," one patrolling soldier muttered.
"Deal with it. Don't you know what's happening on the wall? They might've escaped here."
"Then why not just sweep through this place?"
"Shh. What if all these people turn on us?"
Enkrid listened to the patrolling soldiers' chatter through narrowed eyes.
"Alright, let's move."
Finn led the group with practiced ease, as if traversing familiar territory, guiding Enkrid and Torres without hesitation.
As they walked, Enkrid lifted his gaze.
Part of the city came into view—a distant bell tower, dirt roads, faint lights spilling from within, and mostly dark alleyways.
As Enkrid followed behind Finn, she fell in step with Torres, who was walking just behind her.
When Torres shot her a look, as if to ask why she was walking next to him instead of minding her own business, Finn spoke up.
"Are all the Border Guards like that?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, are they all at
that
level?" Finn gestured with her thumb behind her—toward Enkrid.
Torres pondered her question.
A swordsman like
that
Someone who could deflect a mage's twisted thorny vines with his sword instead of a shield, create openings, and cut through the vines with precision?
A swordsman who, after being taught a few times, had somehow turned his specialty—the hidden knife—into a skill uniquely his own?
A swordsman who could dodge between a Lykanos and enemy elite troops, gambling with his life and barely clinging on, yet holding his ground?
And then, in the end, slashing through those charging enemies, wiping out both the Lykanos swarm and the elite soldiers as if it were nothing?
Torres thought back to all the exceptional individuals in the Frontier Defense.
Let's see... Eisen? Barney? Hyoun?
Could they even compare?
No.
Even purely in terms of skill, Enkrid seemed to have crossed a threshold that made him something else entirely.
"Do you think that's common?" Torres finally replied.
"Huh?"
"Do you really think monsters like him are just everywhere?"
It was a strange feeling.
Not long ago, Enkrid had been under Torres' command.
When they sparred on the way here, they'd seemed like equals.
But now?
Enkrid was different.
His level of mastery, the way he wielded his sword—it was like night and day.
"Ha," Torres sighed.
Hearing that, Finn let out a faintly exasperated sigh of admiration.
What kind of soldier was this Enkrid, really?
"Was this a squad leader until a few days ago? Just a squad leader?"
Finn wondered what would happen if she reported this back.
She glanced around as she searched for the hidden messages left by the Cat.
At the same time, she found herself worried about whether others would even believe what Enkrid had done.
While they were avoiding patrols by relying on moonlight and staying hidden in the shadows, the ruckus on the wall from earlier had subsided.
Enkrid thought the sudden quiet was even more ominous.
Ever since he'd dealt with the mage, his instincts had been sharper.
But he knew better than to trust them too much.
Overconfidence could lead to disaster.
They had already used all three walls to climb over the fortifications, risking everything to make it this far.
He wanted to see tomorrow arrive safely, so he kept his guard up, ready to react at the slightest sign of trouble.
The three of them wandered the night until morning, and though they felt the strain of exhaustion, nothing else happened.
The commotion on the wall didn't escalate into an uproar in the city.
If anything, it seemed like the authorities were trying to cover it up.
While they were hiding in a narrow alley, they overheard two patrolling guards talking as they passed by on the main road.
"Was there some kind of incident last night? I heard someone climbed over the wall."
"Shh! We've been ordered not to talk about it. You don't want to get docked pay for blabbing."
As the guards moved further away, Finn muttered from behind.
"This isn't good."
"Why?"
"The trail's gone cold. The Cat is dead."
"So this was all for nothing?" Torres asked, frowning.
Finn shook her head. "Not exactly. The Cat left a message. But..."
"But what?"
Finn groaned and explained, "They buried it in a designated spot—right in front of the city gates."
"Why the gates, of all places?"
"They must've been in a rush. If they failed to escape, it was probably their last hope."
This complicated things.
Torres nudged Enkrid.
"Got any brilliant ideas?"
"We retrieve the item from the gate and leave. Simple as that."
"Simple? Do you really think that'll be easy?"
'Is this even something to debate?'
Enkrid thought as he glanced at the other two.
'Their brains have turned to mush.'
Not that he could blame them.
They'd been through a lot in the dead of night.
On top of that, neither of them realized how much Enkrid's actions earlier had rattled them.
His swordsmanship and his fearless ability to seize control of any situation—that had been on full display last night.
"Let's set a fire."
"...Huh?"
"We start a fire under the cover of night, then slip away while everyone's distracted. We can grab the item on the way out. If they're keeping quiet about what happened at the wall, it probably means they're waiting for intruders to make a move. Let's give them what they're waiting for."
Finn's eyes gleamed.
It was a brilliant plan.
I should've thought of that,
she scolded herself.
Realizing her own mind had been dulled was enough for her to accept it.
Finn was an excellent ranger.
And an excellent ranger could also be a colossal troublemaker—at least from the enemy's perspective.
When night fell, the three of them stayed hidden until they were ready.
Then, they set fire to six different locations around town, including the haystack in front of an inn.
The flames roared to life.
Finn, bursting with energy, moved quickly and deftly, shouting out warnings to stir the chaos.
"Fire! Fire!"
Her voice added to the panic as the flames spread, allowing the group to move unnoticed under the cover of darkness.
As Enkrid worked to stoke the flames—tossing oil stolen from the inn onto the hay—he couldn't help but think,
'We sure seem to start fires a lot.'
At this rate, he felt like he was becoming less of a knight and more of an arsonist.
But the results spoke for themselves.
"Fire! The city's on fire!"
The chaos grew as the townspeople scrambled to contain the inferno.
With all eyes on the blaze, Finn, Torres, and Enkrid slipped away.
Just before the gates closed, Finn dug up the buried message.
"Looks like we're done here," Torres said.
Both Finn and Enkrid nodded in agreement.
It was time to return.
On their way back, Torres asked, "How did you know the mage's name?"
Enkrid had already prepared a lie.
"It was a lucky guess. There was a female mage during my mercenary days who killed a lot of my comrades. I just threw that name out there."
Did that even make sense?
The story was so implausible that it somehow sounded believable.
Torres, overwhelmed, decided not to press further.
'What does it matter?'
Everything had ended well enough.
That was all that mattered.
In his office within the Cross Guard fortress, Abnaier let out a bitter laugh.
"Ha."
'All of it, undone?'
'In a single night?'
They had captured an enemy spy and extracted information from them.
Using that, they'd set a trap, leaked false information, and prepared to eliminate any intruders.
But never had he imagined anyone would actually infiltrate the Cross Guard itself.
And yet, somehow...
'The elite soldiers stationed at the tunnel point?'
'Nearly wiped out.'
Ressha, the mage?
Dead.
She wasn't someone who should've died here.
The Thorned Vine Retsha was a mage with a renowned reputation.
"If it had been a knight, at least that'd make sense."
But it wasn't.
They'd tried to lay low, waiting to catch the intruders.
Instead, fires had broken out, and the infiltrators had vanished without a trace.
'They just started fires and left?'
Abnaier laughed again, an incredulous, bitter sound.
His face wore a strange expression—his mouth smiled, but his eyes didn't.
The genius strategist of Aspen.
That was how people referred to him.
And yet he'd been completely outplayed.
How could he not laugh?
"Ah-choo!"
On their way back to the Border Guard, Finn sneezed.
When Enkrid suggested they spar again once they got back, Finn thought to herself, 'This guy really is insane.'
Torres, on the other hand, politely declined.
"Aren't you tired? I'm exhausted."
When they finally arrived at the Border Guard camp, Enkrid came across an odd scene outside the barracks.
A bald man, dressed in tattered clothes that made him look like a beggar, was pleading with a soldier.
The sight made Enkrid tilt his head in confusion.

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