A Knight Who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 124

Encrid naturally wanted to step forward.

Wasn’t that why he had come out?

He was also starting to feel the urge to move his body. Using two swords at the same time might still be a bit too much, and even if he needed to spare his right hand for recovery, it didn’t matter.

He was sure after observing the opponent’s stance, steps, and gestures.

His left hand would be sufficient. The opponent was not Mitch Hurrier.

Thud.

At that moment, the flat side of an axe was placed vertically against Encrid’s stomach.

At the same time, Jaxon held his sleeve, Audin his shoulder, and Ragna stepped in front of Encrid.

“I’ll handle it.” Ragna said.

 

“Where do you think you’re going? You need to recover first.” Rem added. There was something firm in his eyes, as if indicating that Encrid couldn’t step forward here.

 

The resolve of the entire platoon could be felt.

So, would they step forward?

Krais had mentioned that it was better if Rem and the others avoided stepping in unless necessary.

Then?

“That’s enough, rookie.” Rem said, holding the axe. The curve of his lips suggested he was quite enjoying the situation.

And then he called out to the rookie.

“Andrew?”

Encrid’s mouth opened, and Andrew tilted his head in confusion.

Why was he being called?

“Go out and kill that guy.” Rem said.

He spoke as if it were the most natural and easiest thing in the world.

Andrew blinked, recalling the anger he had felt earlier.

Wasn’t that the guy who had insulted him, calling him unripe?

The opponent was armed with a spear. The primary force of the Aspen Kingdom was their spearmen infantry.

Pointing the relatively short spear forward, there was no more effective weapon in infantry combat than the spear.

“Come out, you cowards!”

If one had to choose the most insulting word throughout history, “coward” would certainly be high on the list.

Andrew summoned the anger he had momentarily forgotten.

“Alright.” Andrew stepped forward, and so did his opponent.

As the two cautiously closed the distance, Mac watched Andrew with concern. Winning or losing wasn’t the issue, he worried Andrew might end up like a pincushion if arrows rained down on him.

The Platoon leader was ruthless with his words.

‘If it comes to that…’

Mac gripped the handle of the buckler tightly. The shield was larger than what he usually used, but he was skilled with sword and shield, a sword-and-board style.

‘Block and hold out.’

Their side wasn’t foolish, if arrows started flying, their archers would respond.

Seeing that those standing at the front on both sides carried large shields, it was unlikely the arrow attack would be fatal.

‘Hold out and withdraw…’

Worry was fleeting. On reflection, the figures present were not the kind to perish easily.

So, it was enough for Mac to just get Andrew out safely.

Mac set aside his worries, intending to observe calmly.

In reality, aside from arrows, there wasn’t much to worry about.

He had watched Andrew closely. He had improved, grown. He had become more absorbed in the sword.

The gaze of their allies was curious.

If Encrid or the others stepped forward, it would obviously be a fight they would win.

But it wasn’t them, it was another soldier who stepped forward.

Andrew Gardner.

A noble by birth, who had once been a squad leader but had joined Encrid’s squad as a regular soldier.

Some thought he was an oddball.

Others worried whether he could properly handle his weapon.

A tense atmosphere began to spread.

How many confident soldiers had been taken down so far?

Naturally, people hoped Encrid or someone else would step forward.

Andrew looked at his opponent with anger.

The opponent felt the same.

“Hmph, you just talk and leave the fighting to your subordinates, huh?”

That wasn’t the intention. Andrew had never seen Encrid avoid a fight.

Moreover, the difference in skill would be vast.

Even if Encrid was injured, there was no way this guy could take down their Platoon leader.

Andrew considered Encrid a genius. A real genius whose skills improved rapidly. A true talent, unlike himself.

He genuinely believed that.

“Unripe goods? What of it?”

“Bring the guy who called me a ghoul-head!”

They didn’t hear each other’s words. They only expressed their anger.

Soon, that anger turned into spears and swords.

As the cold mist cleared and sunlight fell on the sparse grass and gravel-covered ground, the two exchanged their thoughts in anger.

Seeing the spearhead coming at him, Andrew momentarily recalled the past few months.

It hadn’t been that long.

‘Crazy barbarian bastard.’

After dealing with Rem’s axe, facing an enemy soldier’s spear felt like child’s play.

Of course, if it hit, it would pierce a hole in his body.

It was a decisive blow that couldn’t be carelessly deflected.

“A guy who hesitates when he sees an opening has no right to complain if he dies, kid.”

Rem’s repeated words had become ingrained in him.

Mac acknowledged that Andrew had talent. Rem saw it too.

He was someone worth nurturing, different from Encrid in his own way.

Of course, they had only trained him up to a certain point. They hadn’t shown him the Heart of the Beast or mentioned other techniques.

Those were skills not to be shared lightly.

For Andrew, it was enough.

He did have genuine talent. Quite exceptional talent.

Seeing the spear coming, Andrew swung his sword from right to left.

Clang!

If the spear was advantageous for straight attacks, the sword, a shorter weapon, was better for horizontal attacks.

As the spear bounced off to the side, Andrew stepped forward, crunching on the gravel.

Closing the distance. The start of a fight and its end are both determined by the feet.

“Hngh!”

The enemy soldier pulled back the spear and swung his elbow.

Andrew, maintaining his forward momentum, swung his sword.

The upward slicing blade half-split the man’s forearm.

Blood sprayed from the arm of the soldier clad in a gambeson.

Amid the splattering blood, Andrew’s eyes gleamed.

Was there any need to just cut and end it?

No, this was a fight and a war.

Andrew’s foot moved again. A step to the left, then he swung his sword again, striking the spear shaft with a sharp sound.

He then calmly thrust his sword forward.

The speed wasn’t fast nor slow, but it was enough for the enemy soldier, who was reeling from the pain of his wounded arm.

Thump.

Andrew felt a certain resistance through the grip of his sword.

The blade had lodged between the gaps in the armor and helmet. As Andrew pulled the blade out, about half a foot deep, blood gushed forth.

“Grrr.”

The enemy soldier staggered and fell to his knees. He tried to clutch his neck, but it was futile.

The difference in skill was stark.

This happened because Andrew was skilled. The enemy soldier was also a well-trained regular soldier.

A soldier who had killed many of their own troops until now.

But he was no match for Andrew, who had been honed by Rem’s harsh training and was full of talent.

As the enemy, kneeling and clutching his neck, fell forward, his hands flailed.

He didn’t have long to live. He would die even if left alone.

Andrew, standing behind his enemy, drove his sword in vertically.

Thud.

He made sure to kill him. With that resolve, the sword entered from the back of the neck, taking the last breath of the enemy soldier.

Silence, and the quiet sunlight, were all that remained.

Krais, watching from a step behind, thought this outcome was better than if Encrid had stepped forward.

It was an unexpected person’s achievement.

“Mad Andrew!”

The name that had previously eaten away at their morale now sounded like a nightmare for the enemy.

Andrew’s name echoed all around as he killed the enemy soldier.

“Woohoo! Madman!”

“Andrew!”

What was this?

Even as Encrid listened, he shrugged.

The effect was better than expected?

It almost felt like the cheers were for him.

Among the shouts for Andrew, there were cries of him being a hero who killed the “ghoul-head”.

Rem chuckled.

“Captain, the rookie can handle it.”

When did he become a rookie?

“Andrew, fall back!” Mac shouted to Andrew. It was time to retreat.

Andrew took a few steps back, but he didn’t let his guard down, still watching the enemy.

“I’m all grown up now, you bastards!”

Oh, what was he saying now?

Mac was taken aback.

“Pfft.”

This time, even Encrid couldn’t help but laugh. Had he left some lingering feelings by teasing him?

“Come back, Andrew.”

Andrew’s return after killing the enemy soldier was met with cheers.

It was the moment the atmosphere began to shift.

What Krais had anticipated was starting.

It was the moment that Marcus, the Battalion Commander, had been waiting for.

* * *

Marcus was starting to feel a bit dry-mouthed.

‘Something needs to happen.’

In his judgment, the numbers were similar, and the level of training was comparable.

But the damned Aspen soldiers had skillfully presented themselves.

They had sent out their most skilled soldiers to engage in what seemed like knightly duels.

As a result, morale was low.

Still, it was manageable. However, a shift in the atmosphere was necessary.

He had hoped to see that change from the so-called “Madmen Squad”.

But when Rem, the barbarian soldier, stepped forward,

‘Why does the atmosphere feel even more ghoul-like?’

A dirty, vile, and toxic atmosphere.

Both their own troops and the enemy reacted coldly.

Should he try to change the atmosphere elsewhere?

It was during these thoughts that it happened.

An unknown soldier from the “Madmen Squad”, one of the soldiers taken in just to fill the numbers, easily defeated an enemy soldier.

Not a close victory, but an overwhelming one.

The time was now.

“Send them!”

At Marcus’ command, both the messenger and the adjutant moved.

Soon, a small flag was raised above the Battalion Commander’s tent.

This signal reached the unit commander waiting near the river, where there were scattered rocks.

If Aspen had the Gray Hound,

Naurillia had the Slaughterer of the Frontier.

They were all soldiers capable of taking on ten men at once.

‘Fools.’

Marcus welcomed the enemy commander’s clumsy maneuver.

The atmosphere on the battlefield can change in an instant.

Especially when morale, which had been at rock bottom, surges, the impact is even greater.

Moreover, Marcus believed that victory in battle ultimately came down to who could kill more effectively.

So,

“Kill them all.”

Though Marcus’ mutterings went unheard, the order had already been given.

The Border Patrol, Naurillia’s proud independent company, moved as one to strike the enemy’s flank.

From appearing to be a small force hiding among the rocks and near the water to the moment they charged and engaged the enemy, it was an unexpected blow for the Aspen commander.

“Sweep them.”

The Border Patrol captain ordered, and the unit carried it out.

Torres was among them.

An approaching enemy soldier thrust a spear. Grabbing the spear shaft with his hand and pulling, the enemy resisted. Using that pulling force, Torres closed the distance and thrust a dagger under the enemy’s chin.

Thump.

With a short noise, the enemy soldier with a metal beard under his chin fell sideways.

Torres didn’t have time to retrieve his dagger and immediately charged at the next enemy.

The rest of the Border Patrol was equally engaged in battle.

Hyoun, a soldier from the north known for his excellent swordsmanship, was among them.

Hyoun’s sword danced through the air, swiftly taking the lives of two enemy soldiers. Half-turning, he delivered a powerful slash.

Thud!

The shield of the enemy soldier blocking the strike flew back, and the heavy blow sent the soldier reeling.

The airborne soldier was finished off by Aizen.

Aizen’s specialty was the trident.

Originally a fisherman, he was adept with the three-pronged spear.

Aizen’s trident pierced the back of an enemy soldier. The central blade of the trident penetrated through the gambeson, out of the armor, and through the abdomen.

Barney, known for her speed, was also in the midst of the fight.

Being a woman was no disadvantage for this soldier.

Barney darted between the enemy soldiers, throwing daggers and then leaping back to hurl stones with her sling.

Thud! Whiz! Crack!

An enemy soldier, struck in the head by a stone, collapsed to the side. Leather helmets were no match for the impact of projectiles launched from a sling. Although the carved stones used were labor-intensive to produce, their effectiveness was undeniable.

The Border Patrol was made up of individuals with distinct personalities.

They specialized in guerrilla warfare rather than large-scale battles.

And so they fought, breaking through and killing as they advanced.

Torres, leading his platoon, began to press into one side.

Beside him, Hyoun swung his sword multiple times, fending off enemy soldiers.

Their target was the group of soldiers with longbows—their true objective being to take out the commander of the archers.

Each squad of the Border Patrol moved toward their respective targets, causing a significant shift in the battlefield.

The enemy commander, unwilling to risk further disruption to the already chaotic battlefield, made a decision.

“Retreat.”

The Border Patrol was to hold off the Gray Hound, while the rest of the enemy forces pulled back.

* * *

If it were wind, it would be a storm.

If it was an earthquake, it would be a major quake.

If there were waves, it would be a tsunami.

The flow of a battlefield is always prone to such upheaval.

It was strange that they had been in a standoff for so long.

Encrid also sensed the change in the atmosphere.

Even if he hadn’t seen the movements of the Border Patrol, something had definitely started.

If not…

“Fire!”

It was unlikely that their own archers would act in such a manner.

Thwip, thwip, thwip.

Arrows arched over the heads of Encrid and the Madmen Platoon members.

In contrast, the enemy’s counterattack was feeble.

Only a few arrows flew back in return.

Instead, a swift scout unit equipped with crossbows and light armor pursued Encrid’s group.

“Kill them all, leave no one alive!”

Encrid quickly assessed the situation.

“Turn around, attack, and then pull back to the side.”

He gave the order.

There were at most twenty pursuers.

There was no need to retreat.

Two squads were manageable.

“Sounds good!” Rem shouted excitedly, swinging his axe.

He was so enthusiastic that Enri, standing next to him, had to dodge aside to avoid the wildly swinging axe.

“They’re armed with crossbows!” Enri shouted after looking back.

Was that a problem?

It wouldn’t be.

Encrid himself had dodged incoming arrows several times. His platoon members should be capable of doing the same.

The more he learned and improved, the more he saw new possibilities.

They were strong.

With Rem in the lead, the Madmen Squad, positioned behind him, stopped and turned to charge back down the path they had come from.

They found themselves at the forefront of the assault, with Rem at the head.

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