Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 525 - 525 - Four lunatics
"Indeed."
Abnaier immediately received a report on the enemy's trickery. Currently stationed far to the rear, he was operating under the guise of a puppet commander at the forefront.
In a genuine, full-scale war it would have been Barnas Hurrier leading as commander. However, the outcome of this battle would not be decided on the front lines but rather from the sides.
'Is this similar to the previous battle?'
In that fight, the main front was pushed due to the influence of smaller battles along the flanks.
Having every battle against Naurillia etched into his mind, Abnaier recalled past experiences.
This skirmish bore a resemblance yet started with a different form.
Back then, the side conflicts were auxiliary, but now the engagements along Pen-Hanil Mountain Range would decide the victory.
Abnaier sipped his tea. He had just finished a hearty meal. After all, a well-fed mind functions the best.
Even now, he ate well and rested soundly his sharp intellect dissected the enemy's intentions.
Although to be honest, even someone other than himself would have noticed the enemy's aims. Even the puppet posing as the commander at the front lines would likely have discerned their intent.
Thus, Abnaier had to look beyond what was obvious.
What was the enemy's overt and transparent intention?
It was a probe an attempt to gauge their strength. They were demanding to see what forces remained in the main camp. It was a question: Could this be a feint to prepare for an actual full-scale war?
From their maneuvers, Abnaier sensed a compulsion in the enemy.
They were not merely testing the waters but were the kind to scrutinize when, how, and by whom the bridge was built, verifying its sturdiness before setting a foot on it.
'They're checking whether any knight-level forces remain on our side.'
While they were at it they might as well undermine morale and secure a slight advantage in the event of a full-scale engagement.
Their intent was obvious. However, just because it was obvious didn't mean it would be easy to counter.
"Send out someone confident enough to crush them," Abnaier ordered swiftly.
"Winning isn't mandatory, but they mustn't fall easily. Oh, and make it clear—they are not facing an easy opponent."
Abnaier rapidly consolidated his thoughts as he spoke.
What card the enemy might play? Assuming the worst, he concluded:
'A semi-knight, perhaps?'
If so, they merely needed to respond with an equivalent card of their own.
Abnaier didn't know the exact identities of those they faced. To be honest, he doubted the enemy had deployed anything too formidable.
The real battle, after all would unfold in the Pen-Hanil mountain range.
Abnaier still believed that this conflict would end in Aspen's victory.
There was no certainty, but his faith in the outcome was strong.
They had hidden knights—assets capable of tipping the scales of war.
Three of the four might only be at the entry-level of knighthood, but a knight was still a knight.
How would the enemy counter such a force?
Naurillia likely had hidden assets of its own.
'At most, they might field two knights.'
One had already appeared at the Aspen border, taking down two squire knights. Add in one more, an unforeseen addition. That made two.
'Let's assume there are three, just to be safe.'
Even so, the outcome wouldn't change.
The wolf beastman general stood as a symbol of strength, equal to Cypress of the Red Cloak Knights.
Furthermore, among the knights he could confidently guarantee victory in a duel.
While the latter's "Will" had weakened somewhat due to breaking a past oath, it was hardly a liability.
'It won't be an issue.'
Even excluding those two, two more knights remained.
This calculation didn't even include the Frog General.
Yet even the Frog General was actively leading troops. Victory was inevitable if they clashed.
With a battle being this favorable, they had even initiated an advance to claim the psychological edge.
That slight edge could be the factor that decided victory.
As all knights agreed, the one shaken even slightly would inevitably falter.
This was the answer to the question: "What is the decisive factor in a battle between knights?"
Abnaier recalled the wolf beastman general tapping his chest as he gave that answer.
The memory of the Frog General's pouting face as he witnessed the gesture came to mind.
Abnaier had finished his calculations when the second messenger from the puppet commander arrived.
He had just started his dessert—a fruit-topped pie for an afternoon snack.
The sugar would keep his mind sharp while delighting his palate.
Just as he lifted his fork in anticipation, the messenger arrived.
Abnaier waited for him to speak, his fork still poised mid-air.
The messenger, sat at the table before him, panting heavily.
"In the direct duels, four of ours have fallen."
"Four?"
"After the first, Naurilia kept demanding for more duels."
Abnaier was aware of the auxiliary forces within his ranks.
He had mercenaries stationed as hidden blades and squire knights from the Royal Knights Corps deployed.
'Four had fallen?'
"Did we send squire knights?"
"Yes."
"And they still lost?"
Unexpected. But acceptable.
They only needed to avoid collapsing easily. The real fight lay beyond, at the Pen-Hanil mountains.
"Morale is at rock bottom. All of them were overwhelmed, and the second to fall described the opponents as madmen."
Abnaier's thoughts faltered.
The messenger's words disrupted his reasoning.
One by one, the enemy's actions and intentions began to piece themselves together in his mind.
"...bastards."
The enemy had diverted some of their forces.
Hadn't they agreed to avoid a full-scale battle? Yet they shifted their forces, willing to risk even a fake skirmish at the front?
What was there to gain?
'Was it to buy time for the Red Cloak Knights to intervene?'
No.
Even without the knights, there were still troops left at Border Guard.
They were only stationed there out of Krais's over cautious nature.
"How many?"
The messenger caught on quickly.
"Four have stepped forward."
"Four? What about this madness?"
"All of them... they were like lunatics..."
The usually articulate soldier, chosen as Abnaier's messenger was unable to describe the duels. It was clear something bizarre was unfolding at the front.
Abnaier set the fruit pie aside.
"Pass the order—no more fighting."
Regardless of the shattered morale, combat was to cease.
This was his judgment.
He assumed the talk of madness was merely a ploy to erode morale.
It was a misunderstanding.
Neither Krais nor Abnaier could have predicted what was truly happening.
"Are you trying to pick a fight based on your size? I'll take care of this."
Just as Audin had started causing trouble, a prominent figure from Aspen stepped forward. The commander had just heard a message from Abnaier's messenger. The one who stepped forward was also a person skilled in martial arts.
"Defeat is unforgivable."
The person who stepped forward was part of Aspen's Royal Knight Order. Though not one of the top few, he was still a semi-knight.
"Hey! You'll pay the price for your arrogance!"
The semi-knight, mounted on a horse, charged forward. Audin dismounted and seemed to be enjoying the sunshine in silence. He tilted his head toward the sunlight closed his eyes and hummed a little tune.
Seeing this carefree demeanor, the semi-knight's anger only grew and without dismounting he swung his mace. From his position on the horse he added speed to his strike and channeling his Will to swing the mace diagonally downward. The strike became a black line in the air, almost like the scythe of death descending.
Audin hearing the galloping horse and the furious shout of his opponent spread his legs and took a stance. He then raised his head and precisely observed the black line flying toward him. Calculating the speed of the charge and the timing of the strike in an instant, Audin extended his left hand. The rough steel gauntlet on his left hand reflected the sunlight.
"Clang! Thud!"
The two loud noises hit the soldiers' eardrums. The sound erupted at the intersection where the Aspen knight and Audin the unarmed fighter collided. The Will imbued in the mace was a forceful determination to break Audin's defense. However, Audin did not engage in a contest of strength.
Despite appearing strong Audin's specialty was technique. He extended his hand to intercept the mace with the gauntlet's back redirecting its course and in the same motion, his right hand which had been idle became a weapon striking his opponent's waist.
The duel was over in an instant. Though the semi-knight was wearing a thick gambeson and chain armor, it could not block the strike of Audin's right hand. The flesh was torn and the waistbone shattered along with some of the internal organs spilling onto the ground.
The semi-knight had not been careless; he had trusted the hardness of his armor and intended to use his mount's advantage to wear Audin down. His strategy was a technique often used in battle: cutting away at the opponent's flesh. But Audin shattered this tactic with a single strike. The difference in their skill was stark.
Audin brushed his hand through the air, then spoke.
"Any more brothers who can fight?"
"Ugh..."
Before the words could even leave his mouth the Aspen semi-knight, still on his horse vomited blood and fell to the ground. His foot got caught in the stirrup and as his body tipped forward the frantic horse neighed loudly and reared up on its hind legs. The body of the now-dead man swayed with the motion and all that remained were the gruesome sounds of death.
"What the hell was that?" one of the soldiers in the front muttered in confusion.
The majority of soldiers watching the scene didn't understand why the man on horseback suddenly collapsed dead. It all happened too quickly; the man ran out and dropped dead. That was all they saw. The spilled innards were not visible and instead they only saw the monster calling for the next opponent.
A huge creature resembling a bear or giant appeared in the midst of the battlefield filling the soldiers' line of sight. Despite the overwhelming display of power, Audin remained composed. That in itself was terrifying.
So, was the next fight going to be against something like that? The Aspen semi-knight's death might have seemed unfair, but his opponent was undeniably formidable.
Audin had reached the level of a knight and without divine intervention was capable of facing semi-knights. As for the semi-knights of Aspen, they were no match for him at this point.
Perhaps Audin had unknowingly grown frustrated with Rem's return. Maybe that had contributed to his excessive display of strength today. But the emotions in his heart were his own and he didn't shy away from them. Rather, he wanted to embrace them to give himself a reason to fight.
"I will not discriminate against my brothers and sisters. Please come forward."
He shouted with a calm tone a promise that anyone who came forward would be treated to the same fate as the fallen semi-knight. The challenge echoed through the battlefield.
A response came from the allied side.
"You better hold back; even I wouldn't want to fight you."
Fel, who had walked up spoke with a troubled look on his face. He continued. "Step aside. If you stay here, no one will dare challenge. It's more effective to win one fight at a time rather than taking them all out at once as our big-eyed friend suggested."
Audin nodded, though he felt a slight disappointment.
"Understood."
He realized that, perhaps, he should have held back a little longer. But the moment his opponent spoke, his body had already moved on its own. It was instinct—something in that 'hey' reminded him of his barbarian brother's way of speaking. But, of course this was not about venting his frustration.
"Well then."
Audin stepped back, and Fel took his place.
"Next."
Fel's voice rang out.
Though Audin left, there were still several warriors from Aspen who were ready to fight. They had been held back by the commander, who was under orders from Abnaier to endure as long as possible. The thought of them dying in one strike was unsettling.
The commander's thoughts swirled. Were their own forces weak? Was Naurillia's army stronger? Was there something more to the opponent than it seemed?
"Let me go."
A menacing figure approached the commander, who turned to see the charging officer.
"If we charge now, our forces will be split. We need to take down at least one."
The officer who always led the charge understood that they would not gain any ground by waiting. If they kept fighting in this way they would be pushed back. The commander had the same thoughts, but he also knew something crucial; without Abnaier's approval, no charge could be made. A full-scale battle was out of the question.
Nonetheless, they could not just stand idly by.
"Go ahead."
"Understood."
The charge leader sprinted forward. Fel, however, remained still, calmly waiting. He wasn't accustomed to mounted combat, so he stayed on foot looking up at the sky and feeling the breeze, though the scent of blood had filled the air.
The question in Fel's mind though was not about the battlefield— rather it was a deeper question about his own abilities.
'Maybe I'm not as talented as I thought.'
He recalled when he had first seen Enkrid's rapid growth and thought to himself that he had never seen someone with such talent before. Back then Fel had considered himself a more talented fighter.
He had believed he could soon catch up to Enkrid.
It was similar when we met again. But now, Fel's belief in his own strength was beginning to crack.
So what's left?
'The idol killer remains.'
Is one magic sword everything to you? Is it everything that represents you?
It was what the swordsman Ropord had said.
Fel was lost. There were no stars in the dark night sky, only darkness. And in that darkness I felt a single spark of flame.
'I want to do something.'
I want to swing a sword.
It was a moment of overwhelming motivation. Encred's Will had an influence on him. A question arose from the depths of that motivation.
'Isn't it okay if there is someone more talented than me?'
Ironically, Encrid became a knight. He awakened right in front of me. And even after that, he never stopped training.
"A shepherd is someone who can get killed by his sheep at any time." That's what a shepherd is like. It's the same with a swordsman. Fel had once asked the village elder why anyone would become a shepherd when the job was so dangerous. The elder had answered him with a smile, though he didn't remember the exact words the elder said.
Should I say, 'Because someone has to do it?' Or, 'Because it's fun?' Or, should I say, 'Because it's a promise, so I have to keep it?'"
'The answer is within me.'
Fel no longer looked around. Instead, he focused on what needed to be done now and what would come next. Right now, he would fulfill his duty as a warrior and after that he would chase after his goal.
"Aren't you too young? How old are you?"
His next opponent had dismounted and as he did, asked the question. The charge leader known for his more unorthodox fighting methods was sizing him up.
Fel narrowed his eyes.

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