A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Chapter 863

[ … words ]

It was a day when the rain drizzled down.

The cold rain chilled the body, and a foul stench pierced the nose.

And there were dozens of people trembling violently with anxiety.

A land where the granaries were built of stone and the people’s homes were built of mere planks.

This was the reality of the farming villages that fed the city.

Fertile land, the land of okto.

What words would best describe the place?

Bloody Meal, grain soaked in blood.

Farmland could not be placed in the city.

Therefore, farming villages were built a short distance from the city, with stone granaries to protect against attacks from monsters and magical beasts.

Farmers risked their lives to go outside and farm.

The grain was protected by stone walls, while the people died protecting their homes.

This was how the city functioned.

Was this something to be accepted, given that there was a limit to the population a city could support?

The Enkrid of the past could not.

He had been on his way to escort a noblewoman when he was held up.

“This is all we have.”

He was an old man whose fingertips were black from a lifetime of tilling the soil.

His stooped back showed no sign of straightening.

His bowed head did not lift.

The wooden fence around the village, the rain falling upon it, and the people who lived there.

The keys to the stone granary were held by soldiers, and the lord who was supposed to protect the city protected ‘only’ the city.

The farmers, driven outside, could not abandon their land, knowing they would become paupers if they gave up this year’s harvest.

They pooled their assets and hired mercenaries.

It was a common story one could hear anywhere.

Insufficient wealth and blood-soaked grain.

People struggling to survive.

A ruler who turned a blind eye.

The heirlooms the stooped old man brought were nothing more than a copper ring and a crude glass craft.

Enkrid had a good eye for things and considerable experience as a noble’s escort, so he knew the value of the items.

‘Not even worth a single gold coin.’

It was a pathetic sum for hiring a mercenary band.

That was one of the reasons they had stopped him.

“Please, help us,” the old man said.

Enkrid took only the copper ring.

“I am alone, so this is enough.”

One of the young men watching glared with hostile eyes.

His rain-soaked hair was plastered to his cheek.

The rain fell ceaselessly.

“We can defend it ourselves.”

“Don’t be stupid, we can’t do it without a swordsman.”

It was an argument between the old man and a younger man, at least twenty years his junior.

This land had been lucky.

There had been a few beast invasions, but they had repelled them without issue.

It wasn’t that no one had died, but they had never tasted true despair.

“You bastard Tom, I’ll get revenge,” a man muttered, spitting on the ground.

His eyes were quite murderous.

Enkrid looked around at the gathered people and kept his mouth shut.

This was a group that wouldn’t change even with a good commander.

To be honest, he had his own hands full.

The option to ignore the village existed, but he didn’t take it.

Through the rain falling at the end of summer, a pack of magical beasts poked their heads out.

It was mainly wolves and foxes.

The pack did not aim for the stone granary.

They were aiming for the humans.

Poorly armed humans made for easy prey.

“…There are too many.”

One of the young men muttered, and Enkrid inwardly nodded.

There were over twenty starved magical beasts.

But were they supposed to just die?

All the men who could fight, excluding the women and children, had gathered.

He shouted for them to fight back-to-back, and even as his leg was bitten, he smashed a fox’s skull with a mace.

Even then, he had never neglected his daily training, so his physical strength was exceptional.

But this was not a crisis that could be overcome just by being a little stronger than others.

He was on the verge of becoming beast excrement along with the rest of the village.

He was holding on, limping with bitten limbs, thrusting his sword and swinging his mace.

“This one’s a crazy bastard.”

It was a mercenary band.

The man at their head had spoken.

“This rain is fucking biblical,” said the mercenary captain.

He spoke again and swung his sword.

To the Enkrid of that time, he was a man of considerable skill.

With a single swing, the pouncing fox beast yelped and retreated.

Others followed behind him.

They were fifteen armed warriors, all far more skilled than Enkrid.

“What, did someone offer up their daughter for you to go this far or something?” one of the mercenaries said cheerfully.

He was asking why they were putting up such a desperate fight.

The crisis had passed, and their lives were not over.

“No, really, you’re not even that skilled. What were you thinking?” the mercenary captain asked again.

“I just couldn’t leave them.”

“…You’re a new kind of crazy bastard.”

After this incident, Enkrid joined the mercenary band and learned a great deal.

He wasn’t someone Enkrid would call his first master, but he was the man who had taken him in and looked after him.

“You should put down the sword. That’s the right call. If you absolutely can’t, then hang around noblewomen.”

Had he given that advice, too?

The memory of that rainy day overlapped with the present.

Enkrid looked at the man from his memory.

“…Tim?”

“Shit, who the hell is that? My name is Bunion.”

“Ah, right.”

Enkrid nodded.

Bunion.

That was his name.

“If you don’t remember, just don’t say anything. Why try a different name?” Ropord muttered.

“He was always like that. What are you asking for when you already know?”

Fel retorted.

Ropord had been more on edge than usual since arriving here.

His words were a result of that influence.

Perhaps this front was where he was originally meant to be.

Life is a series of coincidences; you never know what will change and how.

The choices between birth and death had a way of changing many things.

“Weren’t they close enough?”

Enkrid tilted his head, having heard Ropord’s mumbling.

Bunion stared straight ahead and smiled, ignoring the strange remarks.

He, too, had a knack for such nonsense.

“I never would have thought. You, the commander of The Madmen Knights? Then again, you were always destined for great things.”

Bunion said, wrinkling his nose.

It was a habit of his when he smiled.

The dark circles under his eyes and the heavy fatigue in his body were plain to see, but he smiled.

“Didn’t you once tell me to quit being a swordsman?”

“I did? When?” Bunion shrugged his shoulders as if wronged.

Enkrid smirked and held out his hand.

This shamelessness was Bunion’s signature.

The two clasped hands.

“I’m so glad to see you I could cry.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

“Yeah, well, my pride won’t allow me to cry over a man.”

It was an informal attitude.

Bunion was a squad leader in charge of ten soldiers.

The units on the Southern Front rotated, but some units remained here permanently.

Bunion belonged to one such unit.

Naturally, Bunion took on the role of guide.

He told them about the locations of the tents and the current situation.

After listening, Enkrid asked,

“How did you end up staying here?”

“Because someone has to do it. I’m just the one doing it.”

It was a veneer.

There were more words hidden beneath, but he didn’t seem inclined to say them now.

Just as when they first met, this man was soft for someone who made a living by the sword on the continent.

Which is why he had taken in and cared for the past Enkrid.

“You came to help us, right? Enkrid. Then please, help us. Lend a hand in defending this land.”

Kindness, grace.

It wouldn’t be wrong to say they were connected by such things.

Mercenary Captain Bunion had saved Enkrid’s life and taught him many things.

Even his way of making shameless jokes was learned from Bunion.

“Don’t worry.”

Kindness goes around.

Those who give will one day receive.

Bunion had been surprised to hear the name of the commander of The Madmen Knights, and today he saw him.

‘Will the situation change just because one knightly order has joined?’

What if they charge past the Southern Front?

Should they engage in a full-scale battle?

It was difficult.

Truly difficult.

One of Lihin-Stetten’s trump cards was an anti-personnel ballista.

It was a modified weapon, and each bolt it fired at people was thicker than a wooden spear.

‘It’s hard for even a knight to break through.’

Its weakness was that it could only be used from a fixed position, but the terrain from here to the southern army’s position was full of narrow passages and hills.

To break through head-on, they would have to climb hills and pass through narrow terrain while enduring attacks from ballistae that were thicker than throwing spears and faster than arrows.

In other words, it wasn’t easy.

‘What if we go around?’

A small number of knights could probably break through and return, but would the southern knights be idle in the meantime? It was bleak.

Bunion knew this.

He knew that even with a knightly order joining, not much would change.

And how were they supposed to deal with the monsters known as griffon riders?

“Somehow, it’ll work out.”

Enkrid said.

He had heard the situation.

There was no immediate answer.

Still, he said it.

The interesting thing was that at those words, Bunion’s cheeks, eyes, and fingers trembled.

“…Have you met Sir Cypress?” Bunion asked.

“No, not yet.”

Enkrid gave a slight shake of his head.

What was the commander of the Southern Front thinking?

He didn’t know.

Nor did he care why he hadn’t shown his face.

He had met Krang and determined what needed to be done.

For Enkrid, that was enough.

“Really? That’s strange,” Bunion said.

Enkrid didn’t know it, but “Somehow, it’ll work out,” was Cypress’s catchphrase.

‘He doesn’t know how to give up.’

One who shines even in despair.

Such was the knight who protected this land.

Most of the soldiers defending the South were like Bunion.

This was a land where it was difficult to remain without an extraordinary sense of duty.

If it rained, Drowned Ones emerged in droves, monsters frequently swarmed, and Lihin-Stetten’s army attacked amidst the chaos.

Recently, the griffon riders and the weakening of the holy relics had overlapped, making for the worst days yet.

And yet, there were no deserters.

Those who remained on the battlefield did not turn away from their duties even in this situation.

They went on guard duty while limping, and fought while wrapped in bandages.

The holy relics aren’t working?

Then they just had to grit their teeth and fight harder.

The enemy throws things from out of reach?

Then they just had to hunker down and endure until an opportunity came.

While doing so, they also protected those who had joined them to fight for the South.

This was a group that didn’t know how to give up on anything.

***

“May we take a look inside?”

Audin and Theresa found the tent where the priests were staying.

The smell of death emanated from around the tent.

Amidst the fishy smell of the Demon Realm’s rain, the unique scent of dying people wafted.

As a monk, Audin had met many such people.

The musty, urinous smell; the scent that comes from the dying.

This tent was now filled with it.

In response to the giant man’s question, a soldier tensed his stomach and answered.

“Who did you say you were?”

The soldier’s mind was slow.

The headaches and the Demon Realm’s rain had clouded his head.

His cognitive and thinking abilities were less than half of what they normally were.

He simply focused on his duty.

In reality, if he didn’t, he was liable to be easily possessed by a spirit.

“A servant of the God of War.”

The soldier hesitated.

The people in the tent were dying anyway.

It wouldn’t be a problem to let anyone in.

Moreover, the person was a priest.

But his mission was to protect them.

Audin could have forced his way in, but he didn’t.

He respected these men.

“This is the middle of the camp. Pointing your spear will be sufficient if I do something wrong.”

In the first place, if he wasn’t an ally, he couldn’t have come this far.

And the priests in the tent behind him were beyond hope.

So the soldier could just step aside, but he wouldn’t readily give way.

“Let them pass.”

A voice came from behind Audin.

It was Rapild.

He was senior to the guard on duty.

He had been on his way to get some sleep.

He had been looking for the followers of the War God.

It wasn’t hard to find them.

Their builds were enormous, after all.

Besides, the two of them were in front of his benefactor’s tent.

“Senior Private Rapild.”

“I said, step aside.”

He spoke and pushed the soldier to the side.

The soldier guarding the tent blinked his clouded eyes and stepped away.

“Are you going in? If you enter carelessly, you could catch the sickness,” Rapild said.

His wish had been the same from the beginning.

The people suffering in that tent were too righteous to die here.

Even without the rain, this land wore people down.

So he simply wished they could be taken to the city, to a safe place.

“Yes, it is alright, brother with the sad face.”

As Audin spoke, Rapild’s brow furrowed and then relaxed.

“A strange title.”

The soldier moved aside, and Rapild pulled back the tent flap.

Audin bowed his head in thanks and stepped inside.

He saw people lying amidst the stench of urine and rot.

There were ten of them; the order of priests was gathered in the small tent.

Beside them were bowls of water and dry cloths.

Traces of care, even in this situation.

“They will die if left alone,” Rapild said from behind.

To be more honest, they could die at any moment.

Still, if it was possible, if even one could be saved.

Contrary to his hopes, the words that came out of his mouth were realistic.

“If you cannot save them, at least recite a prayer for their rest.”

Rapild’s voice was choked with tears.

The self-loathing of being unable to do anything for his benefactor weighed down his entire body, and he could only search for God inwardly.

‘O, Lord. If you would grant my wish, please.’

Save them.

‘If you save them, I will worship and serve you for the rest of my life.’

It was a prayer that wagered his faith, his life, his tomorrow, his everything.

The prayer was desperate.

“We are a little late,” Audin said.

At those words, Rapild felt an even deeper despair.

Even if he already knew, the confirmation still hurt.

“They will need to recuperate for at least a month.”

The words that followed left him speechless.

“Sister. Please sing.”

“Yes.”

And at the song that followed and the scene that unfolded before his eyes, he fell to his knees.

Aaaah—.

Theresa imbued her song with divinity.

It was not a dirge.

Her chant took the place of a holy relic.

The ten priests were afflicted with a plague spread by the Demon Realm.

Of course, they were not the only ones.

The plague had spread throughout the battlefield.

Rapild witnessed a miracle.

Light flowed from the lyrics, and that light saved the ten priests.

As the light brushed over the skin of one covered in black spots, who had been wheezing with shallow breaths, the priest who had saved his sister opened his eyes.

“…What happened?”

He hadn’t opened his eyes for three days, and they had been turning his body to prevent bedsores.

That man opened his eyes, turned his head, and spoke.

“Rapild?”

As the priest turned his head, his eyes fell first on Rapild, who was praying over and over with thanks, before he saw Audin and Theresa.

“You’re alive, Father.”

Rapild approached on his knees and wept, his shoulders shaking.

Humans cry from sadness, but also from overwhelming joy.