A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 397

WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 397: Dawn Left Its Trace

= = =

Enkrid adjusted his grip on Silver.

At the same time, he thought.

The charging cavalryman, the flying spearhead.

Heart of the Beast gave him boldness, and Focus Point made the enemy's movements look as if they were breaking into segments.

With sharpened hearing and sight, he naturally calculated when the spearhead would reach him.

Then he cut.

Even so, something kept catching at his mind.

'Not enough.'

Something had been lacking.

The review ended in an instant, and he immediately knew what needed fixing.

What if he had stepped farther forward just then? Just half a step more would have done it. The transfer of force would have been easier.

A difference in stride changed how force carried through.

Enkrid swung his sword, reset his grip, pulled it back again, and moved exactly as he pictured it.

Widen the stride. Correct the stance. Then swing into empty air.

Whoosh.

He did not need speed. A moderate swing was enough as long as he could feel the transfer of force.

The blade sliced the air. It stopped exactly where he intended.

Conclusion: this was right. The wider stride made force transfer smoother. Enkrid understood it in his head and carved it into his body.

"No one coming?"

He raised his head as he said it.

Thousands were gathered there. Two armies stood watching.

Of course, Enkrid was not looking at the armies. He only looked up to see whether the next opponent would come out.

Why were they not coming?

He only watched with that question in mind.

This was the first clash and the first duel.

Those lined up in the back could not see clearly, but everyone in front saw it all.

The enemy line opposite them saw it too.

Under those circumstances, hesitating to step forward was only natural.

* * *

"One strike?"

Zalban's brow furrowed. He had two Lieutenants. The one who had gone out was the weaker of the two, but still talented enough not to be easily pushed around even by a knight order's squire.

"Did he get careless? Idiot."

The other Lieutenant spoke and stepped forward.

"Wait."

Zalban raised a hand and stopped him. The Lieutenant gripped the reins and halted.

Zalban judged that this opponent was no ordinary fighter.

Still, his Lieutenant really had let his guard down. He was not someone who should have died in one blow. After a brief thought, Zalban decided.

"I'll go. Binyu, follow behind and support me."

Zalban did not go alone. He took his Lieutenant with him.

The key was to make it look like backup from a few steps away.

That Lieutenant's specialty was Throwing Spear.

One well-timed assist would be enough.

Even if someone from the enemy side came out to help, the result would not change.

A man this lethal with a Throwing Spear was rare.

"Let's go."

Hiiiing.

Zalban spurred his horse forward, and his Lieutenant followed.

* * *

The guild master attached to Enkrid's group froze with his mouth hanging open in shock. Only when two men came out from the enemy side did he finally speak.

"Sh-shouldn't someone from our side go out too?"

He said it to Rem and Ragna.

"Haaah, that's nowhere near enough."

Rem answered with a yawn.

Enkrid had shown them enough over the last month.

No one was worried.

Ragna had found an apple somewhere and was chewing it hard.

Crunch, crunch, as if he might even eat the seeds.

Jaxon said nothing. He stood with his arms crossed and eyes closed. The guild master could not tell what he was thinking.

'What is with these people...'

No one was going out from the main force either?

He turned to look at the main army. It was quiet. No, there was murmuring, but they still did not look ready to charge.

In fact, they were watching too.

After Ingis left, command of the royal army had passed to Marcus.

His palms were slick with sweat. If they lost this duel and opening clash, they would lose the full engagement too.

If they lost momentum first, there was no coming back.

The enemy force was that superior.

'This is fucked.'

That had been his first thought when he heard the enemy numbers.

Then he saw their training level, and even Marcus nearly lost his will. That was when Enkrid stepped up.

At a moment no one expected, he did something no one expected.

That was how this fight began.

It had been a while since Marcus had seen Enkrid fight. He was stunned.

'He was this strong?'

The opponent had been one of the Lieutenants serving the Count's Five Weapons.

Even a Lieutenant there was no ordinary fighter.

Yet his waist was split in a single strike.

It was not luck. It was not exploiting a gap. Enkrid stood in front of him and crushed him with superior speed and power.

Marcus recognized at least that much.

Afterward, he thought for a moment. Their situation was no different from hanging off a cliff.

Or from trying to find solid footing in a swamp on all sides.

Either way, it was the same.

One bad choice, one bad move, and they were finished. That reality had made him cautious.

"Should we send support?"

Instead of deciding alone, he asked the knight beside him, Eisia.

"Just watch."

Eisia answered in a blunt tone and thought to herself.

'I should be the one stepping out there.'

Without a word, without a signal, without any warning, Enkrid had gone out alone and cut the enemy down.

'Can't exactly cancel this and tell him to come at me instead.'

For a moment, she imagined walking out in front of the enemy and saying they should reset and start over.

Obviously absurd.

Most of all, if Enkrid had not stepped out, they might have lost before it even began.

They had already assessed enemy strength by deploying the Reconnaissance Team. What they missed was the level of training and equipment.

The Count's territorial army was solid.

Like rock.

The power gap was dizzying.

Freezing for a moment after seeing that was natural. The more experience you had, the more natural it was.

So was Enkrid out there because he did not know that?

No.

He knew all of it and still did not hesitate. He ran forward alone and took responsibility for starting this battle.

Eisia accepted defeat cleanly.

Not just in skill, but in spirit too.

'Cool bastard.'

She thought it inwardly and watched him.

Out there stood the man who had proudly said his dream was to be a knight, then half-smashed her face.

And the man who had saved her.

"Yeah, go. Kill them all."

Eisia muttered. Her heart slipped into her voice before she noticed.

In the center of the battlefield, while both armies watched, a battle cry exploded.

"Kkiyat!"

One of the Five Weapons.

Zalban, who used twin short spears, came charging in. Eisia saw it clearly.

* * *

Enkrid saw dust floating in the air. He saw droplets of blood scattered and beading on the grass.

About ten steps ahead, the rider jumped off his horse.

The instant his foot hit the ground, even the dirt kicked up beneath him looked like separate grains.

Blades of grass swayed in the wind. He heard a tiny tiddidik sound. Grass greeting grass.

He felt the weight of the sword in his hand. He felt the texture and weight of clothes and armor brushing his whole body too.

'Good weight.'

He had named the sword in his hand Silver.

Today, for some reason, he liked Silver's weight more than ever.

He looked at the blade and saw fine damage along the edge. It would be good to touch it up with a whetstone.

"You came this far because you're confident in your skill, right? What's your name?"

The approaching man asked.

Enkrid did not answer. He simply savored everything coming at him through his senses.

Wind brushed his cheek. Sunlight pressed on his helmet. Ah, that was a little disappointing.

Enkrid took his helmet off.

The sun and wind felt closer than before.

The broad plain had no hill large enough to hide behind. In other words, it was a perfect place for wind to run wild.

In ancient times, the Nauril Plains had been called the land of wind.

Wind raced across the open earth, blocked by nothing. A nonstop sprint.

Fwooooooosh!

A fierce gust blew in from somewhere.

Zalban instinctively braced his legs.

Enkrid let all strength drain from his body. Wind flowed over him, wrapped him, then scattered.

Zalban frowned. Had the opponent just floated for a second? No? Was that an illusion?

He wanted to rub his eyes.

But he also could not take his eyes off him for even a second.

If his focus wavered even a little, that blade would stab into his stomach.

Even without carelessness, the first man would not have lasted more than a few exchanges. Seeing it up close made Zalban sure.

'It's real.'

The opponent was above him.

Zalban tightened his grip on the short spear. Veins rose on the back of his hand.

He steadied his mind and drew the flow of battle in his head.

'Block his sword with the left hand...'

In the middle of that thought, Zalban's eyes shifted to Enkrid's waist. Two more swords were there. A belt across the chest for throwing daggers was plainly visible too.

Three swords. He had not brought those for nothing.

Then he would use the rest too.

Looking closer, Zalban also spotted a hidden knife near the ankle.

The opponent stood there with his arms hanging loose, still being pushed by the wind.

'Again.'

Zalban redrew the battle from the start. Block the sword in his hand with the left, then thrust faster than anyone with the short spear in the right?

'No, again.'

Sweat began to bead on Zalban's forehead. He was burning through mental energy.

He drew it once more.

'Thrust with the left. Force him to defend.'

After that, twist the grip of the right-hand short spear. Yes. Use every move he had prepared. That was right.

His eyes stung. It felt like being trapped in a prison where even blinking was forbidden. Even so, Zalban endured the pressure skillfully. He too was a warrior who had crossed the river of death countless times.

He had endured this kind of pressure many times before.

'Kill him.'

The moment he moved, his Lieutenant, like an extra pair of limbs, would throw a Throwing Spear.

'I couldn't block that either.'

A Throwing Spear flying in from outside the field of view in the middle of combat.

And that ally had first-rate skill.

The Lieutenant fought almost as well as a decent squire.

In Throwing Spear alone, calling him a junior knight would not have been strange.

Sweat dripped and hit the ground.

The opponent blinked once. Zalban flinched and his shoulders twitched.

That bastard? Under this much pressure, where even total concentration was not enough, he was relaxed enough to blink? Zalban nearly kicked off and lunged.

'Illusionary Sword?'

A feint? Yes, a feint. The moment he judged that, Zalban pushed off his planted foot.

He began to close the ten-step distance little by little.

A careful approach.

Enkrid watched the approaching opponent and looked beyond him too.

Everything still appeared in fine detail. The sensations on his body were still sharp.

But suddenly, his view opened wider and he could see what was around them.

First, the one in back slipping sideways little by little.

If things turned bad, he would jump in. The spear fixed on his back annoyed Enkrid.

Naturally, he watched the one coming toward him too. The way he was inching in felt frustrating.

At the same time, one thought came.

'If I lose here, the damage will be huge.'

He could already see the outcome.

Enemy strength was superior. Numbers too, and training too.

The Count had prepared properly.

Still, it seemed fine.

On the continent, wars were decided by small groups of elites. The power of knights changed battlefields.

The first knight in history had changed what the word knight meant, back when it was merely tied to rank.

Knights changed the shape of war.

Enkrid was here because he wanted to change something too.

'Change it.'

Why had he wanted to become a knight?

'To save and protect.'

He wanted to fight for what he believed was right, and protect the people behind him.

From the moment he first gripped a sword, he had wanted to live that way.

A bard's song had lodged in his chest and become his signpost in life.

He had walked and walked and now stood here.

Dawn had stained his faded, torn dream and left its trace.

Ignoring the opponent's careful steps, Enkrid strode forward.

The way he kicked off the ground and moved looked half like a run.

But he did not look hurried.

He walked with his sword arm swinging, and the sword swayed with it.

When the distance narrowed to within five steps, Zalban drove off the ground.

"Kkiyot!"

He thrust the left-hand spear.

Enkrid gripped Silver, set a diagonal guard across his chest, and twisted his wrist.

A soft touch did not turn steel into cotton.

The instant his edge met the spear tip, he let the force slide away. His sword moved on while bleeding off the spear's power.

He saw the opponent's eyes. Brown, bloodshot eyes. Dry day today? Why were this guy's eyes such a mess?

A stray thought cut in.

The opponent raised his right hand and thrust.

It would not reach. Even so, he made the motion.

Boom!

With an explosive blast, the spear tip launched. It was a specially rigged weapon.

Enkrid did not knock away the flowing blade. He pulled back again.

Clang-clang!

The explanation was long, but it happened in an absurdly short instant.

Zalban thrust with the left, fired the right-hand spear, and two metallic sounds rang out.

Right after that came one flesh-ripping impact.

Thud!

Enkrid blocked twice and swung once. He did all of it with the one sword in his right hand.

His third cut tore through the opponent's chest.

Zalban wore multiple layers of leather and a thick inner layer that also served as armor, but Enkrid's sword split through all of it and carved into flesh and muscle.

It landed exactly over the heart.

The blood vessels in Zalban's eyes stood out even more.

"Cough!"

He spat blood, staggered back a few steps, then collapsed. His knees hit first.

"Gasp!"

Only then did the man in back throw his Throwing Spear.

It came for Enkrid's face.

The pressure in the air hit his face first with a whoom.

Enkrid chopped downward with his sword.

Clang!

The Throwing Spear caught his blade path, ricocheted aside, and rolled on the ground.

The Lieutenant's hand, about to throw a second Throwing Spear, stopped.

It was obvious another throw would not change anything, and his body stiffened on its own.

In the end, Enkrid swung his right-hand sword a fourth time and finished the fight.

Zalban saw the ground rushing toward his face. The world turned red. He thought:

'The skill gap was there from the start.'

The opponent was on a different level. Zalban had attacked twice, and one of those had been an unexpected launched spear tip, yet both were handled cleanly.

How did this happen?

The reason was simple.

The opponent's downward cut was faster and more precise than his. What they had built over time was different.

That was Zalban's conclusion.

Enkrid flicked blood from his sword into the air.

Until then, the Throwing Spear wielder could neither charge nor run.

His eyes only darted around.

"Not coming?"

Enkrid looked at him and asked calmly. It was not a taunt, not a rebuke. He sounded as if he were simply asking his intent.

A strange current formed, and the owner of the Throwing Spear steeled himself and tightened his grip on the shaft.

"Crazy bastard!"

One enemy soldier, in a panic, charged out again. He kicked his horse forward on the reins.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

He looked ready to charge straight in, but at about twenty steps he checked the reins.

Then, from horseback, he raised a short bow and drew.

That too was impressive skill.

Mounted archery was no common trick.

An arrow fired while closing distance would be as fast as a streak of light.

Watching him charge and shoot, Enkrid flicked his left hand.

Of course, he loaded Momentary Will into it.

He accelerated the motion of drawing, gripping, and throwing his sword.

Whoom, shing.

Sword and arrow crossed on different lines.

Thud!

A crisp impact followed.

The archer who had drawn at twenty steps loosed his arrow and immediately took a sword through the chest, his body lifting behind the saddle for a moment.

That scene was made by Enkrid's throw.

Gladius flew in a straight line and buried itself in the man's chest.

The incoming arrow looked like a dot to Enkrid, but it was well within his perception range. There was nothing to fear, so the moment he threw Gladius, he naturally dove and rolled aside.

Pak!

The arrow stuck in the ground.

Beyond it, the horse that had carried the archer ran off without its rider.

Clatter, clatter, clatter!

Hiiiiiing!

The horse gave a long cry. Maybe it knew its rider was dead.

The man struck in the chest flew backward and rolled on the ground, and blood pouring from him soaked the grass.

Enkrid walked over and pulled Gladius free.

A hard crack sounded from the corpse as ribs split and broke.

If, as a hypothetical, he had been given only three todays to face that Flow-Breaking Squire, what would have happened?

Enkrid felt he could prove it right here.

Instead of three todays, he had compressed all of that into one month.