Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 309 - 309 - Cutting Through Alone
A day passed without Enkrid returning.
The enemy, at some point, began retreating like the ebb of a tide.
Ragna had not returned, and neither had Jaxen.
Krais realized that the situation was serious.
No, a sense of foreboding kept piercing his thoughts at every turn.
"Where is the highest point around here? A vantage point where we can observe."
Despite his anxiety, he remained calm.
If something had already happened, there was no time to panic.
Especially with Enkrid missing.
If the commander dies, what happens to me?
What if Enkrid died?
It would likely provoke Rem to throw an axe immediately.
Of course, it was a jesting thought.
This isn't good.
Even if he didn't die, things wouldn't be ideal.
If the commander disappeared, countless problems would arise.
If asked what exactly those problems were, Krais would have to think hard to pinpoint them, but one thing was clear.
The Madmen unit would be over.
Who would control Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin?
No one.
In the past, they might have placed a puppet in charge, but over time, those men had changed.
Now, they could only be controlled by the commander.
Without him, could the Border Guard hold off Aspen's attack in the spring?
It was impossible.
Then, I'll just leave without looking back.
What did he think he was, a patriot to stay here?
While Krais stood under a tree, lost in thought, Nurat, recalling the terrain from maps and memory, spoke.
"Follow me."
Krais, in the shadow, gave off an eerie vibe.
Nurat thought as much but didn't voice it.
It was strange.
Was it because Enkrid wasn't with him?
An instinctive thought.
It was true.
Krais with Enkrid and Krais without him felt like two different people.
"Let's move faster."
Krais urged.
Nurat brought two horses, and they rode off, passing several mounds until they came upon a rough trail.
It was a path they had to climb, half hanging to ascend.
No lady would dislike a strong physique and well-trained muscles.
It was natural for an attractive lady to be interested in physical beauty, and Krais never neglected his training.
Thanks to that, he easily climbed the steep mountain path.
Nurat, a seasoned warrior, ascended even more swiftly.
Upon reaching the top, Krais scanned the distance.
"Madmen."
The morning sun illuminated the area, revealing the enemy's formation.
They had hidden between the mounds.
Should they pursue?
Should they counterattack?
Bad move.
If they followed and were ambushed?
The terrain was ideal for an ambush.
No matter how high their morale was, and despite their victory in the previous battle...
The overall force still isn't overwhelming.
If they were caught, the situation could change in an instant.
No, they had initially decided that driving them out would be a win.
That was their goal from the start.
Winter was on their side.
How will they hold out in the cold? What about supplies?
Why would Aspen covet Green Pearl?
Beyond the plains occupied by Naurilia lay rough terrain—mounds, valleys, steep mountains, and land infested with monsters.
Enduring the winter and maintaining supplies was no easy task.
They can last four or five days at best.
That was how long the enemy could hold out.
In other words, they were already winning.
Now, all they had to do was remain hidden and shoot arrows to buy time.
The only problem was one.
Enkrid's absence.
Did they really abandon the battlefield just to capture the commander?
It seemed too bold.
Using elite forces was to win the battle, but abandoning the battlefield altogether—what would be left?
Their future, their future gains.
Had they truly gone that far?
The unsettling thought lingered, but Krais couldn't be sure.
It was too bold a move.
"One more day."
Krais waited for the commander.
Nurat found those words ominous, but she couldn't say anything.
Krais, the man with the big eyes, exuded a strange intensity.
Abnaier waited a day.
There was no need to strike immediately.
He too needed time to prepare.
The place where he had trapped Enkrid was nestled between three mounds, with a ravine and cliffs creating a perfect trap.
It was a deliberate setup to kill a few men.
Are there any variables?
He had planted the seeds and was now waiting for the harvest.
It would require much blood to reap the benefits, but Abnaier considered it worthwhile.
Therefore, things mustn't go wrong.
Abnaier pondered deeply, sipping tea sweetened with sugar.
The sugar was meant to keep his mind sharp.
What variables might arise here?
He couldn't afford to make a mistake.
No matter how skilled the enemy was, as long as they weren't knights, they wouldn't escape.
He had prepared enough tricks for this.
After losing the previous battle, Abnaier had thoroughly investigated the Border Guard.
Did the card of a knight brought by the enemy signify a lost battle?
No.
He had reconstructed the battle and found the real answer.
They had lost before the pseudo-knight even appeared.
He found the reason for their defeat.
He revisited the battle.
He combed through the battlefield.
And thus, he had the answer.
It was the Madmen unit, Enkrid and the others.
The battles they fought on the outskirts, the attacks on their supplies—those were the factors that painted the picture of their defeat.
Every time he heard about their exploits, it thrilled him.
The soft hairs stood up.
Even within the city, there were those who didn't stay quiet.
The assassins would be wiped out, and nothing would remain but failure in the face of the name Enkrid.
He was like a ghost—one that couldn't be caught, couldn't be grasped.
That's why...
'I'll catch him.'
Abnaier was a strategist who prepared.
And he did just that.
He preserved his strengths.
He prepared, repeatedly thinking, and cornered the enemy.
It all began with thieves and fanatics.
By chance, he had drawn a good card.
Naturally, he used it.
'The Black Blade and the Cultists aren't weak either.'
They would certainly affect the strength of the Border Guard.
Abnaier intentionally refrained from fighting and waited for them to split.
It would have been even better if the Black Knife or the Cultists had killed a few, but such luck wasn't granted.
But in any case, they split.
Enkrid had left behind Rem, Audin, and Theresa.
'Catching a group together is amateurish.'
Above all, Abnaier's 'craft' was something he had buried deep in this land.
For Enkrid, he had created the Triangle Seal to bind them.
For the rest of the Madmen, he sent the appropriate blades.
He also brought out the card of the assassin clan.
'With this.'
He would kill.
His mouth was dry, so he took another sip of tea.
Swallowing, he organized his thoughts.
The cost would be enormous.
If things went as planned, the only thing he would gain would be a few heads.
To the outside, it would appear as though he had taken the heads of a few elite soldiers.
But to Abnaier, they were heads of those who would one day become the greatest threats to Aspen.
Once his plan was set, it was time to proceed.
He had opened the tent flap wide, letting both sunlight and the winter breeze in.
The wind wasn't too cold.
It was a pleasant day.
"Let's begin."
With a click, Abnaier set down his teacup, and his lips parted.
First, it would be the head of Enkrid.
Enkrid didn't think this was a crisis.
This much couldn't even be called danger.
After all, there was no knife at his throat just yet.
He hid his body in the thickets and focused on resting.
'No matter what, it starts with the body.'
His physical strength was already at a level that could be called superhuman.
A single night's rest would be enough to replenish the lost stamina.
Though he wouldn't reach perfect condition, at least some recovery was possible.
His body had become like this.
It was thanks to the Isolation Technique and Audin.
'Should I thank him?'
It was a thought that came to him unexpectedly.
When he returned, he'd at least say something like "I owe you one."
'Strength is strength.'
Aside from his stamina, his body was still under strain.
He had swung his sword all day long.
If he was fine, that would have been strange.
His forearms were bruised from broken capillaries.
He hadn't just swung his sword but also punched and kicked.
He couldn't focus entirely on just attacking.
He had jumped into the enemy's ranks alone.
He couldn't block every attack either.
Using his sense of evasion, he blocked or avoided only the most dangerous strikes, taking the rest on his body.
More precisely, he deflected them with his shoulder pads, gauntlets, and shin guards.
It was reckless, but with the techniques he had learned from Audin, it wasn't as crazy as it might seem.
'A true knight wouldn't find this difficult.'
He briefly reflected on the battle and then chewed some jerky, heading toward a stream to drink and wet his throat.
The water was clear.
He drank it without boiling it, but if he developed a stomach ache, it would be a sign that it had been poisoned.
From the sound of the flowing water in the distance, he could tell he was near a valley.
'Rest today, and leave tomorrow.'
Even when the direction was unclear, there was always a way out.
He just had to choose a direction and go straight.
Even if it turned out to be the wrong way, as long as his sense of direction returned, getting out wouldn't be difficult.
Enkrid thought this through.
'How did the battle go?'
It wasn't the time to look back or survey the battlefield.
Enkrid had done his best.
It was through his effort that the battle had taken this shape.
What he didn't know was that, with just one battle, the tide had turned.
The outcome of this battlefield would soon be sealed with a victory for Naurlilia.
Though those who died in between were unavoidable, Enkrid was unaware of the full situation.
Still, he knew that there was no need for him to fight further here.
Aspen had become a deer, torn apart by a beast's fangs.
He hadn't controlled or observed the entire battlefield, but he could feel the flow of it.
Enkrid found a tree with a large trunk, laid some leaves underneath, and settled down, seeking shelter from the wind.
He closed his eyes.
He needed sleep.
It wasn't long before he woke up, with dawn breaking.
His body, trained over time, immediately shifted into a combat stance.
Crunch.
The sound of stepping on grass reached his ears.
It was fortunate he hadn't lit a fire.
Had he done so, his position would have been revealed.
'It worked out well.'
He was able to find the enemy's position and ask them for directions to an escape route.
Enkrid held his breath and focused his hearing.
He relaxed his muscles, starting from his fingers.
He warmed up his cold body to prepare.
His ears pinpointed the enemy's position.
Crunch.
At first, it was from the left.
Rustle.
Now, from the right.
The presence was closing in.
Enkrid, focusing on hearing, peered out from his crouch.
'What's this?'
It wasn't a small reconnaissance unit.
It was a large force.
They were cutting through the thickets with their blades.
The sounds of the brush being pierced echoed one after another.
There were more than one set of eyes.
The enemy was everywhere around him.
Counting their numbers was pointless.
It was no surprise that he was spotted like this.
"There!"
The enemy locked eyes with him.
Their vision was sharp.
Enkrid thought as he stood up completely.
"Capture him!"
The enemy rushed at him.
Fighting wasn't always the answer.
Enkrid pulled back.
He wasn't a fool.
Krais always praised his leader's intellect.
He wasn't wrong.
Enkrid was thinking.
Rather than face them, it was better to move and escape...
Thud, thud, thud!
While still thinking, arrows rained down from one direction.
'Madmen.'
If they fired like that, they'd end up hitting their own side.
Enkrid raised his sword and deflected the unavoidable arrows, spotting a large tree nearby. He quickly moved to take cover behind it.
Thud!
Several arrows hit the tree.
"Ah!"
"Ugh!"
As expected, a few arrows struck their own side.
Yet, the arrows did not stop.
"Fire!"
"Fire more!"
Arrows kept flying.
Enkrid briefly checked the blade of his sword, then swung it wildly toward the tree.
It was a full-powered spinning strike.
Boom!
A loud explosion echoed.
With the sword strike, half of the tree was shattered, as if it had been cleaved.
Along with that, the blade itself developed a crack.
The wear from battle had taken its toll.
With the tree half cut, Enkrid then drew his Gladius across it.
The heart of the beast's strength surged.
The muscles used for swinging the sword reacted and swelled.
Then, the blunt yet solid blade cracked through the remaining part of the tree, splitting it apart.
Whoosh!
Crack!
The tree tilted.
"Huh?"
The enemy soldier underneath, who was directly beneath the tilting tree, panicked and stumbled.
The tree fell, breaking branches as it went down.
"Move!"
"Crazy!"
The enemy troops panicked and scattered.
Enkrid seized the opportunity and dashed forward.
He ran toward what he assumed was the south.
He discarded his cracked sword and switched the Gladius from his left side to his right.
"Where are you going?"
Then, a line of heavily armored infantry appeared ahead, blocking his path.
They were holding thick shields, forming a blockade with more than fifty soldiers.
As Enkrid tried to move past them, more enemies began to swarm from the sides.
"Why are there so many?"
There were far too many.
Had others been caught up in this, too?
Enkrid quickly reevaluated. Charging in would definitely kill half of them, but what would happen afterward?
He had learned to avoid paths that led to certain death.
He pulled back and kept running.
While running, he kicked a stone from the ground.
With a sharp sound, the stone flew into the air and was struck with the edge of his Gladius.
Clang!
With a bright clang, the stone flew faster than any arrow.
Thud!
The stone hit the head of a soldier who was aiming a crossbow ahead.
'This is the way.'
He spotted a gap where the crossbowmen had clustered.
Enkrid dashed through the gap between the enemy soldiers.
It was like a predator among herbivores.
With the Gladius in his right hand, he slashed, stabbed, and fought.
The Gladius, however, wasn't designed for slashing—it was meant for thrusting.
After killing half a dozen soldiers, he broke through and saw a path ahead.
It appeared to be a deliberately created trail through the bushes.
'Got it.'
Just as he thought he had escaped, he heard the command.
"Fire."
Crossbow bolts flew from both sides.
It was a trap, using a crossbow unit as bait.
'Who set this up?'
A nasty trap.
Enkrid dove forward.
One bolt hit his armor.
It didn't pierce through to his flesh, but there was no time to remove it.
Enkrid kept running.
He dodged to the side, slashing and killing about six or seven enemies.
Then he jumped backward, cutting down another fifteen or so soldiers.
He fought, stabbed, ran, and repeated this cycle.
The battle that started with the sunrise continued until dusk.
There was no way out.
It felt like being trapped in a maze.
Eventually, he saw a wall made of stacked stones.
When did they prepare that?
It was ridiculous.
There was no way to break through with sheer force.
And with the enemy forces closing in from behind, it was impossible.
"What are you guys?"
Enkrid wasn't injured, but his limbs were trembling from nonstop running and swinging.
Even the strongest have limits.
They say a knight can cut down a thousand men.
Then, what about a sub-knight?
A sub-knight can't take down a thousand.
That's why they're called sub-knights.
As Enkrid struggled, Abnaier muttered to himself.
"Try cutting down a thousand by yourself.
Then maybe you'll survive."
Otherwise, you'll die.
The strategist of Aspen was certain of this.
Thwup!
Dozens of arrows.
After fighting fiercely to the very end, with arrows flying, and battling back until the very last, the battle was nearly over.
Behind him were three swordsmen from the Hurrier family.
Ahead, dozens of heavily armored shield soldiers blocked the path.
And dozens of arrows flew toward him.
There was no time to dodge—one hit his stomach, another struck his shoulder.
The bandages under his armor protected his stomach, but the arrow to his shoulder was poorly blocked, leaving his left arm unable to move.
His shoulder guard had long been lost, and only one gauntlet remained on his right hand.
His boots were also torn.
The wind biting through the torn armor and flesh was unbearable.
His body was in tatters.
Enkrid killed the two Hurrier family swordsmen with his Gladius, and took the last one' arm.
The man whose arm was severed glared at Enkrid with bloodshot eyes.
"Seems like you under-prepared."
He said.
Enkrid had no time to respond.
"Kill him."
The final act was concluded with dozens of arrows.
No, in truth, one hundred and fifty arrows were shot by a hundred and fifty archers aiming at a single target.
Enkrid held two swords and ran forward.
Desperation.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The Huryer family soldier who had lost his arm threw himself at Enkrid.
As Enkrid split the man's skull with his Gladius, dozens of arrows embedded themselves in his body.
Thud!
The arrows hit his thighs, shoulders, and, most dangerously, grazed his neck, ripping away a chunk of flesh.
With a thunk, his knee hit the ground, and his body collapsed, headfirst.
'Crazy bastard.'
Enkrid finally understood.
They had mobilized all this force and preparation just to capture him.
It was madness.
A small part of him was, surprisingly, a little irritated.
This kind of death was something new for him.
He closed his eyes, his body shaking.
He had lost so much blood that he couldn't regulate his body temperature.
Death was close.
The darkness clouded his vision.
The coldness brought on by his falling body temperature made it feel like a chilling death.
He died, and when he opened his eyes again...
He heard the sound of flowing water.
A boatman appeared with a purple lantern on a swaying boat.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
The boatman asked.

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