A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Kraiss had determined that reinforcements were necessary, but he also believed that those reinforcements didn’t need to be a large force.

Are they lacking supplies?

No, that wasn’t it.

The kingdom’s army wouldn’t have launched an attack without at least that much preparation.

Then could sheer numbers alone be enough to turn the tide of battle?

He wasn’t sure.

It was difficult to predict. Count Molsen’s plans were unreadable.

That was expected.

Count Molsen had prepared something—a fusion of magic and sorcery—and was in the midst of painting a picture of blood across the battlefield.

Even so, Kraiss predicted that the enemy would reveal something unforeseen.

His mind, always envisioning the worst possibilities, shone once again.

In that case, it was only natural to send the fastest and strongest forces as reinforcements.

A small force with overwhelming combat ability was enough to flip the battlefield upside down.

Audin, Shinar, and Teresa.

Kraiss had provided each of them with two sturdy, fast horses.

That was why Audin and Shinar were here.

***

Enkrid took a step back. Audin had gently grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away. There was no reason to resist.

“Just sit back and watch. I did the same earlier.”

Rem spoke as he watched Audin step forward. Then, with a resounding thud, he clashed his weapons together.

In his right hand, he held his usual long-hafted axe, and in his left, a shorter-handled hammer—where he had picked it up from was anyone’s guess.

Enkrid knew that Rem didn’t discriminate when it came to weapons. In other words, Rem was fully prepared.

“So we just need to cut them down?”

Ragna dragged the tip of his sword along the ground as he spoke.

Whatever he had done to it, the blade’s edge was ruined, jagged like a saw. It would be fitting to call it a serrated blade.

Yet, because it was in Ragna’s hands, it was still fearsome. Even if he held nothing but a wooden sword, he would be just as menacing.

Today, more than ever.

His determination was evident—whatever stood in his way, he would cut it down.

Audin, having pulled Enkrid back, smiled and spoke.

“Father, those who must be chastised stand before us.”

A direct translation would mean he intended to send them straight to their god.

Audin’s fists were more than capable tools to deliver them to judgment.

He wore leather gauntlets, each stitch appearing meticulously sewn. The craftsmanship was sturdy and refined.

The material seemed to be made from a beast’s hide. Enkrid’s eyes weren’t mistaken.

Specifically, it was centaur hide.

Processing it took time, but it was remarkably tough and durable.

Kraiss had ordered them made and ensured they were properly delivered.

Curious, Enkrid asked,

“Leather gauntlets? Who made them?”

“There is an excellent tailor in our unit. I do not know his name, but his stitching is exquisite. He once served as a squad leader but is now in charge of supplies, brother.”

A face came to mind.

“Red nose, drinks too much?”

“How did you know?”

Though the tension between the five monstrosities and their group remained palpable, Enkrid spoke, and Audin answered.

It was as if they were saying it was fine to talk.

Of course, Audin’s gaze never wavered. His eyes were fixed on the largest of the five creatures.

“I owed him.”

It was the same man who had crafted his leather greaves and gauntlets during his first repetition of today. His skills had improved significantly.

He had become a supply officer for the Border Guard. That meant his craftsmanship had been recognized.

Kraiss oversaw logistics. There was no way he would allow an incompetent to handle supplies. That alone was proof of the tailor’s exceptional skill.

“Fiancée, who troubled you? Point them out.”

To Audin’s side, Shinar’s whimsical fairy humor remained unchanged.

His cold, intelligent appearance and flat tone made his words sound indifferent, yet their meaning was anything but.

“The one who troubled me is already gone.”

Enkrid replied, pointing a finger toward the sky.

“You sent them to the Lord. Well done.”

A priest who praised killing—aside from Audin, Enkrid doubted there were many like that.

Not every follower of a war god behaved this way.

Shinar, still without a hint of amusement, unsheathed his blade.

“A wretch who sullies the blood of the fae stands before us.”

And he was right.

One of the five was a fairy.

Rem was momentarily surprised.

He had met that one earlier.

The one who had kept running even after being cut in half.

But he hadn’t expected them to be alive.

And even if they had survived, he hadn’t expected them to stand here, looking whole.

He had distinctly seen their guts spilling from a neat axe wound to the torso, yet there they were.

Though faint traces of darkened blood seeped through poorly stitched wounds, the fact that they could move at all was astounding.

He had been certain he had killed them.

Shinar strode forward with his Leaf Blade.

And just like that, the group blocking Enkrid’s path consisted of Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Shinar.

Jaxon, meanwhile, was no longer standing in the same spot.

He had already vanished.

The moment Enkrid realized it—

Jaxon appeared beside the count.

His slender rapier shot forward, aimed directly at the count’s head.

It was a strike no one had anticipated.

The blade was about to pierce the count’s skull—

But Jaxon did not achieve his goal.

Clang!

Like striking solid steel, his blade rebounded.

Jaxon was stunned.

The force had been far beyond what should have been possible for human skin.

But standing still meant praying for death. The moment he struck, Jaxon threw himself backward.

A black claw slashed through the air where he had stood.

One glance was enough to know that getting grazed by that would be a disaster. The black claws carried a heavy sense of malevolence.

Jaxon immediately understood that whatever had blocked his blade was not a defensive spell.

He had specifically targeted the count after sensing there was no magic in place.

Which meant—

The count’s skin was simply that tough.

“Have you transplanted a monster’s flesh into your own?”

Jaxon posed the question, delivering information to everyone at once.

The count’s skin was inhumanly durable. It was no different from a beast’s hide.

“A mere insect.”

The count scoffed, waving his hand. The black claws slashed toward Jaxon once more.

Jaxon disappeared into the ground like a shadow and reappeared five steps away. But the claws relentlessly pursued him.

At the same time, those who could be considered Rearvart’s kin—though they did not share blood—charged forward.

At the front was the fairy that Rem had half-killed.

“Uuuuuugh!”

She clawed at her own head before suddenly breaking into a sprint.

Not directly, but in a wide, arcing path.

Even so, she was terrifyingly fast.

To Enkrid’s eyes, she seemed faster than Rearvart.

And she was.

Had Rearvart discarded all restraint and relied solely on his physical capabilities, he might have replicated that speed.

But he hadn’t. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

As a human, as a knight, his honor had been his final shackle.

He had wanted to be a true knight.

That was why he had not fought like a beast.

But what if he had?

The answer stood before them.

In the blink of an eye, the enemy had vanished from view.

The moment Enkrid realized he had lost sight of them, a sharp sting spread across his right cheek.

Something sliced through the air. A strike empowered by sheer momentum.

Enkrid sensed it.

But there was no need to react himself.

One fairy had been muttering something for a while now.

Before the enemy had even moved, their words had already reached Enkrid’s ears.

“A kin of the forest who has lost their pride.”

It was not a jest. It was a genuine call to arms.

The Leaf Blade met another Leaf Blade.

Clang!

As the two swords met, green light scattered.

The impact forced the opponent back, and Shinar was pushed two steps as well. The two of them stood apart, facing each other.

Their swords were similar in shape. One was a traditional Leaf Blade, while the other was a grotesque imitation, its blade formed by tangled veins protruding from the back of the opponent’s hand.

“You can hardly be called kin.”

Shinar rebuked them. The fairy opponent, though not entirely devoid of intelligence, responded.

“What the hell are you saying, bitch?”

It wasn’t the kindest of words.

Shinar gave a faint smile. A smile so cold it almost stung just to look at.

“To speak such vulgarities before my betrothed.”

With those words, Shinar raised her Leaf Blade.

Though she had scorned the opponent, she had already sensed the difference after just one exchange of blows. Strength, speed, and bodily endurance—everything was different.

Still, she did not think of them as a knight.

They were nothing more than a monster struggling to imitate one.

Shinar had seen fairy knights before.

They were beings worthy of respect and honor.

No amount of self-mutilation could turn this creature into one.

And so, it must be cut down.

She had to free this foolish, ignorant fairy’s soul.

“I will speak to the forest and the flowers.”

Shinar spoke as she lifted her sword.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A strange thing happened. Though her weapon was the same, it seemed to emanate the scent of fresh greenery.

“Spring arrives, and spring is the season of boundless vitality.”

She murmured, continuing her chant.

Her secret art was one that drew upon the essence of the forest.

Just as she had once demonstrated in a sparring match that had entertained Enkrid.

She had used multiple phantom bodies to confuse her opponent, and through the forest’s essence, she could physically strike with them.

That, of course, was merely one aspect of her abilities.

That was just a trick.

She gathered the essence of the forest, called upon the spirits, and received their response.

Shinar infused herself with the essence.

It was a lost fairy technique, forgotten because no one could wield it anymore.

The corrupted fairy’s blade came flying toward her.

It bore the resemblance of a leaf and was thus called a Leaf Blade, its edge nearing her face.

Shinar had already consumed the gathered essence without reserve, matching her opponent’s speed.

Clang!

She didn’t merely deflect the strike.

As the descending blade came crashing down from above, she twisted her own sword upward and flung it away.

Her sword shimmered with a soft green hue.

The Leaf Blade’s art, Seasons, altered the nature of the blade.

At this moment, the sword in her grasp was spring.

Spring’s Leaf Blade exuded boundless energy, alive with essence.

Its {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} form remained unchanged, but the power it held was transformed.

From then on, Shinar’s movements resembled a dance.

If not for the fact that she was striking, cutting, and piercing, it might have simply been a dance.

And with each strike, she shattered the enemy’s sword.

She crushed the chimera fairy who had once dreamed of becoming a knight.

***

Watching Shinar initiate her battle, Audin spoke.

“I was late, so as a penalty, I shall take on two of them.”

The moment he finished speaking, the remaining guards lunged forward.

Like the corrupted fairy, they moved.

And like the others, they were faster than Rearvart had been.

Of course, that was no real issue for Audin and the two beside him.

As Audin spoke, Ragna extended his sword.

Faster. Stronger.

To achieve that—

Will.

That intangible force infused his arms.

He laid his intent upon it and willed it into his limbs.

He sensed how Will moved and directed it.

That was the answer Ragna had found.

And so, he did it.

It would only last for the span of two breaths before dissipating, but that was enough.

Ragna, for an instant, wielded a knight’s sword.

More precisely, he wielded the sword of an Azpen knight.

It had been nothing more than speed and sharpness.

And so, Ragna followed suit.

His left foot moved half a step forward.

He shortened his motion as much as possible, channeling power from his ankles through his waist as he twisted.

It was a preparatory movement.

Compared to the monster charging at him, he was undeniably slower in raising his sword and adjusting his stance.

To an observer, it might have seemed that he would be skewered in an instant, his heart or some of his entrails ripped out, knocking on the gates of heaven.

If they could perceive what was happening, that is.

Ragna’s blade accelerated.

It was far faster than the creature’s charge.

Before it could even react, his sword drew its line through the air.

Against an unfathomable speed and strength, the false tower they had built crumbled without resistance.

Slice. Rip!

It happened in an instant.

The creature lunged—only to be split in two and sent flying in opposite directions.

Rem, who had been swinging his axe and hammer, saw it happen.

That crazy bastard.

He was even more unhinged than before.

Having faced one of these things himself, Rem knew—they were far from weak.

Rem didn’t hesitate.

He retrieved the items he had taken while capturing the Undying Berserker.

In the West, in Rem’s homeland, the concept of Will did not exist.

There wasn’t even a word for it.

But they had a path of honing their hearts and advancing forward.

They called it sorcery.

To Rem’s people, sorcery was an essential weapon required to become a warrior.

Their inherited weapons had stemmed from it as well.

“Watch closely, you bastard.”

Rem spoke toward Ragna and snapped a small totem between his thumb and forefinger.

It was a tiny effigy, no thicker than two fingers.

Its effect was simple.

It imbued the caster’s body with Lightning Stride.

Then, without hesitation, Rem pulled out another charm, crumpled it, and shoved it into his mouth.

This one granted The Strength of the Bear.

Two spells to reinforce the strength of his limbs.

It wasn’t originally his magic. It wasn’t something he had cultivated.

It was a trick that allowed him to temporarily use these sorceries.

And that trick made his body even faster.

His muscles surged with power.

Rem’s opponent wielded a pair of heavy swords.

The creature dodged every time, avoiding Rem’s attacks effortlessly.

It was as if evasion alone would suffice.

Just as Enkrid had once struggled to fend off Rearvart, Rem’s axe had been forced into constant defense.

But then—

His axe moved at an angle never seen before.

It surged upward from below before crashing down like a thunderbolt.

Boom!

The opponent blocked it—

But was sent flying backward.

The impact jolted through their body, forcing them back.

Even with sorcery, such force was difficult to achieve.

This was possible only because it was Rem.

He had an innate talent not just for wielding his body but for utilizing sorcery.

And he used it to its fullest.

His hammer slammed into the creature’s ribs, and as it reeled, his axe slipped past its guard.

Crack!

The head split vertically.

Whether due to monster blood or thickened bones, it was only half-severed—one eye dangling loosely as pieces of the brain spilled out.

Rem let his arms drop, exhaling.

This is going to have consequences.

It was the price for borrowing another’s sorcery.

His gaze shifted to the final two remaining opponents.

At a glance, Audin seemed barely holding them off.

But of course—

No one interfered.

He had said he would take two.

He had to take responsibility.

Rem still thought Audin was a damned zealot.

But at least, he was one who kept his word.