Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 276 - 276 - Going Touring
"Hey, it's me?Lavan."
The middle-aged man spoke, but Enkrid did not stop to think. When had he ever thought things through with his head?
He had come this far by following his instincts and chasing his dreams.
Enkrid swung his sword.
The blade rose, reflecting the light of the torch as it moved from below to above.
A dull thud echoed.
Yes, dull. It wasn't sharp.
The blade, once known for its extreme sharpness, cleaved through the opponent's arm slowly and without speed.
Lavan watched, feeling his arm being severed, but he could not avoid it, only watch as the pain hit.
"Ugh!"
A terrible scream echoed through the vast cave.
The severed arm, still part of a human body, fell to the floor.
The arm, now detached, flailed about, splattering blood everywhere, as if to emphasize its claim to independence.
The man, now missing an arm, screamed in opposition.
"Ah! Ah!"
The shrill cries mixed with the blood splattering in all directions.
Much of it splashed on Enkrid's armor and face, but he did not avoid it, simply watching indifferently.
Blood dripped from his cheek and fell to the floor.
Enkrid, watching Lavan writhing in pain after losing his arm, casually spoke.
"Can you stop the bleeding? Esther."
"It won't be hard."
Esther's method of stopping the bleeding was rather aggressive.
She extended her hand, and flames ignited from her palm, pressing down on the wound.
"AAAHHH! S-Stop! Please, stop!"
Enkrid thought for a moment about how many desperate screams this crazy middle-aged man had probably heard, but then he stopped thinking.
"Why? I was just doing what I was told!"
Lavan had already bled considerably by the time the cauterization began, and his voice was now weak from the agony.
Enkrid raised his sword.
"Leg."
With a neutral tone, he ordered, and then cut off Lavan's leg.
With a sickening thud, the severed leg flew to the side. The limb, now independent from the body, flailed around, as if asserting its existence.
Under the many torches casting light, the red blood splattered everywhere again. Once more, Esther used her magic fire to cauterize the wound, and another agonized scream rang out.
"AAAHHH!"
Lavan, now missing both his arm and a legs, wept blood. His teeth broke, and blood mixed with saliva spilled from his mouth as he screamed in horror.
"Looks like it's painful."
"If you cauterize like this, it always ends up like that," Enkrid replied, while Jaxen added, "It's not just cauterizing with an iron; it's cutting off limbs and sealing the stumps."
Jaxen wasn't a master torturer, but he knew enough. He understood the structure of the human body and where pain would be most excruciating.
Jaxen was familiar with various methods of torture, such as pulling out nails and inserting needles beneath them.
From his perspective, Lavan was lucky to still be alive.
Their conversation was indifferent, as if they were discussing a rock on the roadside.
Lavan, unable to withstand the pain, finally passed out, his eyes rolling back.
He seemed to be on the verge of death.
Enkrid stepped forward and prodded Lavan's forehead with his sword.
No matter how much pain one is in, the body is instinctively sensitive to new pain.
Enkrid slowly dragged the blade downward, amplifying the pain to its maximum.
"Ugh..."
Lavan moaned in a hoarse voice. Enkrid asked, "Is there a way to restore the person trapped inside to their original state?"
Jaxen thought it was a ridiculous question, but Enkrid had asked it anyway.
If you didn't open your mouth at that moment, you weren't truly human.
Even trained assassins, if faced with such a fate, would choose death before enduring such torment.
Lavan blinked repeatedly, shaking and trembling, but his eyes still managed to focus.
Clearly, his mind was still functioning, proving his value lay in his intellect.
After some time, Lavan managed to speak, though his words were slurred and hard to understand.
"T-There's... a way..."
The words were difficult to catch, but Enkrid understood enough.
Without hesitation, Enkrid swung his sword down, slicing through Lavan's head.
The blade cleaved through his skull, and his brain, which might have had some value, spilled out onto the ground.
"Why?"
Jaxen asked without thinking.
"Why ask when you already know the answer?" Enkrid responded, and Jaxen nodded. He understood.
Lavan, the alchemist, had babbled whatever came to his mind, but there was no way to reverse what had been done. There was no method for restoration.
Even if the most renowned clerics in the continent came, some things simply cannot be undone. While those called saints might be able to reattach an arm that has been torn off, they cannot restore the mind of one whose head has been destroyed.
That is beyond the realm of the divine.
The woman intoxicated by drugs might bite off her own arm, but what can be done about the boy already dead?
What about something that is neither ghoul nor human?
If it could be undone, then perhaps that person could be called a god.
"It would have been valuable if we had taken him," Shinar said. A reasonable thing to say, to which a reasonable answer came.
"I didn't like how he looked."
"I see. That makes sense."
Shinar nodded in understanding, and Esther seriously nodded in agreement.
"He was ugly."
Those who walk the path of magic, mystery, and spells are also treading the path of the non-human.
However, at the same time, they must face the real world.
They should never forget their body, their flesh, and that they are human.
A proper magician should understand this.
Be it a fairy, a dwarf, or a dragon, because they have a physical form, a magician must never forget that.
But that alchemist strayed from that path.
The things he had done were evident everywhere, and the contents of his research journal reflected that as well.
It was truly a foul, rotten stench.
Thus, he was ugly. That's what I meant when I said that. Of course, his appearance was also part of it.
Esther observed that Enkrid seemed untouched by any anger or emotion.
Then, what was the motivation behind his swing of the sword?
Esther had her doubts but didn't ask.
It was better to investigate, analyze, and observe to find the answer. It was a way of discovering more than simply asking for a direct response.
In fact, there was no complex reason.
Enkrid swung his sword as if discarding something filthy, like washing off dirt from his hands.
Was the one wielding the sword to blame?
What kind of nonsense was that?
This was not the sword's fault; this was the work of a human.
A human who could control their own life.
One with both the ability and the will.
They had simply done what they wanted to do.
The one who gave the orders and the one who carried them out were both at fault.
From Enkrid's perspective, those who committed such acts had no worth.
What if the opponent was the ruler of a nation? What then?
It wouldn't matter.
Even if he had to live his life as a fugitive, always pursued, treated like a bounty for gold, Enkrid would still act as he did.
That was how he saw his dreams, how he walked his path.
Had Finn known his inner thoughts, she would at least have shaken her head.
It would have sounded like the ravings of a madman.
That was why Enkrid wanted to kill anyone like that as soon as he saw them. That was why he wielded his sword.
The knight of old wasn't just one who fought well.
Of course, Finn could not read his thoughts or understand what was in his mind.
"Well, they died good and proper. Some foolish alchemist was here, and now he's dead. What can you do about someone already dead?"
She spoke as though nothing could be done about it, implying no need for responsibility.
Enkrid had no further thoughts, and Jaxen silently respected his commander's decision.
After all, he had already gained what he needed.
And honestly speaking...
'I might have killed him.'
He had no intention of keeping him alive. That was not a matter of calculation but a matter of feeling. It was emotion.
A response driven by feelings for the first time in a long while.
'This is not the place to release it.'
He could not release the emotions that had worn away and decayed here.
His emotions were like a prepared blade, and those who would receive it were already determined.
"Captain, some members of the unit have entered. We should bring them in and finish up. And for the few survivors, it's better to keep them locked up."
Since they were all drugged, they would surely cause a ruckus if let out.
"Let's do that."
Shinar spoke, then flipped through a few sheets of paper in her hand. Looking at the common language written on the thin paper, she opened her mouth.
"There are several more villages like this. Looks like it'll be quite the long trip. What do you think?"
Though many things were implied in the question, Enkrid understood it clearly.
Jaxen would follow if he spoke, and Finn would follow Shinar's orders.
"One of the villages raises monster beasts."
Through what Shinar said, Enkrid realized.
'It's not that we haven't learned anything.'
There were simply too many opponents. To learn everything, they would have to take time and effort.
Enkrid's mind quickly processed the current situation.
'If we don't move with a small, elite force, everything—experiments, research data—will be lost and vanish.'
'Then after the battle, we won't gain anything.'
'The ones we need to kill will also get the chance to escape.'
They were enemies that needed to be tackled with a more focused, elite force.
Even in this village, there was a lightning-wielding witch.
Therefore, preparations had to be made.
The Black Blades, that band of thieves, were no small-time group.
Enkrid had misunderstood slightly.
The Black Blades had prepared various traps.
Among them, there were places where slaves were sold.
And places where they tamed monster beasts with potions.
The most important one was this village, where the valuable magician was located.
No matter how powerful the Black Blades were, magicians were rare and precious.
The thought process was complete. It wasn't something worth overthinking.
"Let's go."
Enkrid gave his answer.
If there were more like this, they would have to be cleared out.
An elite, secretive group had gathered, and magicians were among them.
Even if Esther didn't step forward, if she showed signs, he would let her speak.
In many ways, this was a good opportunity.
Above all, if they didn't deal with it now, they would only end up hiding again.
"Don't you wonder who the leader of the Black Blades is?"
Shinar asked without waiting for an answer.
"Do you know?"
"I've learned that they are one of the nobility of the kingdom."
Jaxen, too, had been listening to this conversation.
There was an intent behind it.
The information that had been deliberately leaked to parts of the kingdom was now beginning to bear fruit.
Jaxen, too, was eager to meet the leader of the Black Blades.
Even if he had a wife separated by war, there was someone else he wanted to see more than her.
After leaving the cleanup of the village to the incoming troops, the group moved on.
"That's brutal," the squad leader said, shaking his head at the scene inside the cave.
Several inexperienced soldiers couldn't hold back their nausea and vomited, and the foul stench of vomit filled the cave.
One of the reasons he wielded his sword was to prevent leaving such things alive.
The group then ascended the mountain.
It was a rough path, but it would serve as a shortcut.
Finn was an excellent guide in such terrain.
One of the villages of the Black Blade had four village chiefs who moved as one.
They were four men who had been together since childhood, and they were known as the Ballun brothers.
Bald, fierce-looking men, they were the archetypal bandits, and their skills were formidable enough to rob around the village.
The Black Blade bandits were originally a group that dabbled in banditry as well.
In front of the four stood a man with black hair.
It was midday.
"How did you get in?" the eldest brother asked, rubbing his shaved head.
Though it was cloudy, it wasn't a rainy day.
The second brother narrowed his eyes.
It was strange. The village was quiet. There should have been dozens of their members around, but it had been suspiciously silent until now.
The man silently adjusted his sword belt and placed his hand on the grip of his sword before speaking.
"If you're upset, you should speak up now. I'm a bit busy."
"Busy?" The third brother rolled his eyes.
The fourth brother was quick to sense unease. He subtly stepped back and grabbed the hidden end of a net.
If things went wrong, he was ready to throw it.
The net, with weights attached at the corners, was the fourth brother's proud weapon.
The brothers often used nets in their battles to great effect.
The third brother was an expert in throwing darts. He stroked the poisoned darts with his hand, preparing for the fight.
The first and second brothers were masters in hand-to-hand combat.
No words were exchanged.
A tense standoff began between the four brothers and Enkrid.
The tension filled the air.
The bald brothers, accustomed to their palace-like home, now found the space cramped.
'What is this guy?'
After a brief thought, the fourth brother threw the net.
Enkrid stood calmly, watching the net fall. He observed the two bald brothers and connected the dots in his mind, moving his foot to draw an imaginary line in the air with his sword.
The sword cut through the air, hitting the weight on the net, tangling it mid-air. Then, it slashed through the necks of the fourth and third brothers, leaving deep gashes.
Blood gushed out from the wounds.
The second brother's eyes turned wild in fury.
"You bastard!" he yelled.
The fight was short and brutal.
It ended in an instant. Enkrid used a sword technique that parried the thick blade of the incoming enemy while simultaneously delivering a strike.
He avoided the attack and struck the enemy's forehead.
The blade dug into the forehead with a sickening sound.
"You bastard!"
The first brother hurled his axe with all his might, the heavy weapon showcasing the brute strength of its wielder.
The first brother gave his all.
Enkrid created a hole in the second brother's forehead and used his left foot as a pivot to collide with the first brother.
The clash was followed by a resounding bang.
And then...
"...Who are you?"
The first brother, unable to withstand the force, spoke in a voice of disbelief, his arms broken.
Enkrid took a deep breath, relaxed his grip on his sword, and responded.
"What does it matter to you?"
The man was about to die anyway.
Enkrid showed no mercy or forgiveness.
That was the end of it.
There were no more mages, and Jaxen, who had picked up some kind of artifact, had gone wild.
The five thieves guarding the central part of the village were swiftly taken out by Jaxen without anyone noticing, and Enkrid entered the inner area of the village.
However, even after searching the village thoroughly, nothing of significance was found.
What is this place? Just a gathering point for troops?
While Enkrid pondered this, Finn stepped forward.
TL here! Thank you for reading!
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