A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Chapter 403

[ … words ]

At the break of dawn, both armies began their movements.

They stood in the same formation as yesterday.

The vast plains served as their stage, and the rising wind became their silent spectator.

This time, instead of individual duels, archers, infantry, and cavalry lined up in formation.

There was no explicit agreement, but both commanders standing at the vanguard wordlessly accepted the sunrise as their signal.

Enkrid watched, walking forward.

His steps were light, as if he were on a morning stroll.

But this wasn’t a real stroll.

He was fully armed.

Three swords and his whistle dagger—every piece of gear was meticulously secured.

There was another difference from before.

The placement of his weapons had changed.

With two finger-widths of its blade missing, this new position was more practical.

Would the dwarf who forged this be upset if he saw it?

Dwarves took great pride in their weapons.

Just as elves took pride in the trees, flowers, and plants they nurtured—calling themselves the children of the forest—dwarves were the children of iron and flame.

Giants, who proved themselves through blood and slaughter, were the children of hot-blooded war.

Beastfolk, who hunted for survival, were the children of the mountains and fields.

Dragonkin, who stood alone, were children of no one.

The Frokk, who staked everything on their dreams, were the children of ambition.

And humans?

Humans had no symbolic lineage.

Because they could become anything.

It was a fleeting thought.

Walking alongside the army, Enkrid checked his equipment.

“Block, evade, strike.”

“Feint, strike, cleave.”

He simulated battle in his mind, replaying yesterday’s fight.

From the outside, he must have looked like a madman flailing his limbs as he walked.

But no one glared at him.

No one complained.

Instead—

“Are you fighting with us today as well?”

A soldier, mustering his courage, asked.

The man stood at the head of a fifty-man company halted in formation.

Their commander had spoken.

All fifty pairs of eyes turned toward him.

Enkrid nodded.

He would fight.

Against the same opponent as yesterday.

It was just a gut feeling.

But he was certain.

Though his enemy had admitted defeat, the flames burning in his eyes had not faded.

That man would return.

Enkrid finished his mental rehearsal and path adjustments as he moved between formations.

Behind him, Rem, Jaxon, Ragna, and Dunbakel followed.

“Look at this weather, huh?”

Rem mused.

Enkrid glanced up.

The clouds weren’t thick enough for rain yet, but they were gathering fast.

They moved quickly—visible even from afar.

But there was no scent of rain.

Dunbakel sniffed and said,

“Won’t rain until tomorrow.”

Ragna remained indifferent, while Jaxon, as always, kept his expression unreadable.

Rem, on the other hand, grinned like an excited child.

“We’re going to shit blood today.”

Enkrid nodded.

It was a reasonable statement.

Today would be brutal.

Earlier at dawn, he had discussed it with Rem.

“You realize something?”

“What?”

“If they had attacked immediately yesterday, we would’ve been in serious trouble.”

Enkrid didn’t need the explanation.

He had felt it instinctively and understood it logically.

The enemy had been in formation.

The kingdom’s forces had looked organized but had yet to truly unite.

And yet, the enemy withdrew.

Why?

It wasn’t because they were cowards.

If that were the case, things would be far too easy.

It meant they were preparing something.

“They were willing to waste a day.”

Enkrid had thought the same thing.

And Marcus had understood it as well.

“I know. But that time was necessary for us too.”

Their army was outnumbered, less trained, and lacked a cohesive chain of command.

The enemy was a well-disciplined unit under a single command structure.

But Enkrid’s performance yesterday had oiled the rusted gears in their own army.

Having someone like him on their side had boosted morale.

Their passion and determination had been redirected properly.

Marcus had used it all.

Crang had laid out strategies that had been put to full use.

Last night, crows had flown non-stop as messengers carried plans.

The enemy had bought themselves a day—

But that time had been just as valuable to them.

“That’s why I cooked meat.”

Rem said.

His words were not just about food.

His anticipation had boiled over.

Even when they killed the Undying Madman, Rem had been dissatisfied.

And why wouldn’t he be?

That wasn’t a proper battle.

It was a chase.

Rem wanted to fight.

To clash, to bleed, to struggle.

His bloodthirst burned.

A bonfire overflowing with fuel.

The flames licked outward, ready to consume everything.

“I will burn it all in battle.”

A true warrior must burn their soul in combat.

Enkrid looked at him.

“What’s with him today?”

The heat radiating from Rem was stronger than usual.

Ragna felt it too.

Jaxon, though silent, noticed it as well.

Dunbakel seemed deep in thought, and Esther perched on Enkrid’s shoulder, watching.

And then—

They reached the edge of range.

Both armies were standing just within bowshot.

Both commanders, as if synchronized, shouted at the same time.

“Fire!”

Arrows soared.

The battle had begun.

Drums thundered.

Horns blared.

Arrows rained from both sides.

The kingdom’s archers numbered five hundred.

The enemy had over a thousand.

Their volleys collided in midair.

Oaken and pine shafts, fletched with steel-tipped heads, found their targets.

Thud!

A soldier collapsed, an arrow piercing the gap in his helmet.

But there weren’t many unlucky ones.

The frontline infantry raised angled shields to withstand the assault.

And then—

“Chargeeeeee!”

The enemy moved first.

As expected.

Marcus had prepared for a defensive counter-strategy.

From the right flank of the Count’s army, a cavalry detachment broke off.

“Ride!”

Lances lowered.

A cavalry charge.

If they broke the formation, it could spell instant defeat.

The kingdom’s forces had to hold the line.

“Move! Get there! Hold the line!”

A kingdom officer spotted {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} the target and issued orders.

His unit had spoken to Enkrid earlier.

Now, his voice rang out.

“Pikes, bracing positions!”

Whoosh!

Pikes angled upward, their butts dug into the ground.

A wall of spears.

The best defense against cavalry.

The enemy had no time to change course.

Thunderous hoofbeats roared.

And then—

Crash!

Spears impaled riders and mounts alike.

Blood exploded.

Bones shattered.

Screams tore through the battlefield.

And thus—

The slaughter began.

Crash!

The spearheads pierced through both mounts and riders alike.

Blood splattered in all directions.

The sound of bones snapping echoed across the battlefield.

The cavalry was obliterated.

Some of the riders, however, were thrown from their horses rather than impaled.

But that didn’t save them.

The momentum of their charge became their own executioner.

“Kuaaaagh!”

“Gaaahhh!”

Screams filled the battlefield—

A deafening declaration that this place was now Hell.

Among the fallen, a few barely clung to life.

But they were given no mercy.

The kingdom’s soldiers, their adrenaline surging, drew their longswords.

Slash! Stab!

“Die!”

“Bastard!”

Among the gaps in the spear wall, a few enemy cavalry managed to break through.

Their sheer weight alone turned them into weapons.

It was common for soldiers to be crushed under the weight of a falling horse, and even a single broken limb could mean certain death in the middle of battle.

A few riders collapsed as they forced their way through, creating gaps in the formation.

But the waiting infantry immediately thrust their spears forward, filling the breach.

“Charge! Charge!”

The enemy cavalry tried to force their way through by sheer numbers.

Yet the infantry holding the spear wall endured.

The soldiers fighting in the midst of the chaos couldn’t grasp the larger picture, but from the perspective of a commander, this was a major victory.

The battle had started well.

Marcus clenched his fist.

Then, the enemy moved again.

Another wave of cavalry surged from the opposing ranks.

“You’ve really prepared for everything, huh?”

They were mounted archers.

There weren’t many of them—only around fifty.

But tracking them down would be no easy task.

“Even if they just keep running and shooting…”

Every one of them was skilled enough to do that.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Their leader had charged ahead on the first day and died by Enkrid’s blade, but these soldiers were formidable warriors.

Their very nature as cavalry archers made them a threat.

They galloped toward the kingdom’s officers.

Even at a glance, it was clear this was a well-trained unit.

Perhaps this was the first blade the Count had prepared.

Enkrid’s gaze followed them.

On a wide-open plain, it was only natural that mounted movements stood out.

“If we leave them alone, they’ll cause real damage.”

He understood that much, but it wasn’t the time to move.

“Marcus isn’t an idiot.”

He had witnessed yesterday’s strategy meeting—

The officers under Marcus weren’t lacking, either.

Before his thoughts could fully settle, allied cavalry burst forward.

There were only a dozen or so, but leading the charge was a head of fiery orange hair.

Fwoosh!

A red cape billowed in the wind.

Aisia and the squires.

Though they had refused to rely on knights, these warriors were still former royal retainers.

“For Naurillia!”

Aisia’s voice rang out.

She and her squires charged forward.

In a blink, they closed the distance, hunting down the mounted archers.

The enemy cavalry fled, shooting arrows as they retreated.

Aisia swung her sword, deflecting the most dangerous shots.

Without a shield, she simply twisted her wrist, redirecting the arrows with flawless precision.

Then, she caught up and closed in.

Her blade swung, severing a man’s neck.

Before his head even hit the ground, her sword pierced another enemy’s back.

She rushed sideways, thrusting, cutting—

Merciless.

A terrifying momentum.

“Fight to the end!”

As the mounted archers dwindled, enemy cavalry surged forward to intercept the knights.

But that wasn’t all.

The enemy infantry advanced, and among them were a few distinct warriors, their eyes locked on Aisia.

***

As the infantry clashed, those with exceptional skills became more visible.

Rem sprang forward.

“I’ll go first!”

The moment his foot touched the ground, his entire body seemed to elongate, surging forward with incredible speed.

It was a movement that required skill.

Naturally, Enkrid could do it too.

Using the Heart of Might, he could slam the ground, not to jump upward—

but to thrust himself forward.

Of course, it wasn’t something just anyone could do.

Enkrid had engraved the technique into his body through countless repetitions.

Rem charged a warrior who had broken away from the enemy infantry line.

The enemy saw Rem and turned to face him.

Dual war hammers.

Rem drew his axe, swinging—

The opponent swung back.

Claang!

The impact rang like a bell.

The soldiers around them instinctively stepped back, creating a space for the duel.

Enkrid’s eyes caught a shadow rising behind Rem.

A hidden soldier, lying in wait, lunged from the ranks.

His thrust was unbelievably fast and precise.

A perfect ambush.

But Rem twisted his body, dodging at the last second.

The blade grazed his back.

Rem retaliated—his axe swung down.

The enemy leaped backward.

“No need to interfere.”

Enkrid knew.

If things got dangerous, Rem could escape.

If not—he’d win.

After all, this was Rem.

“Let’s start cutting them down.”

Enkrid turned his gaze.

“Fucking barbarian.”

Ragna scoffed, stepping forward.

Toward the enemy infantry’s flank.

He walked slowly.

The Mad Platoon had separated from the main force, but no one paid much attention to them.

The battlefield was too chaotic.

Enkrid watched Ragna’s back.

“A knight is a disaster for common soldiers.”

And Ragna was closer to a knight than anyone.

He wasn’t injured.

He wasn’t tired.

And he had eaten well.

Ragna slipped into the enemy’s ranks—

Or rather, he flowed in.

No need for strategy.

Anyone who stood before him was cut down.

The side of the enemy formation began to collapse.

His blade flickered.

A soldier’s head flew.

No scream.

No reaction.

They didn’t even realize they had died.

As Ragna’s sword carved through bodies, the enemy’s numbers plummeted.

Within moments, corpses piled up.

The enemy noticed him.

But it didn’t matter.

Realization only made things worse.

A grim reaper had walked into their ranks.

Enkrid’s gaze shifted to another group.

Among the enemy infantry, he saw several figures moving with clear intent.

“Jaxon?”

“Leave them to me.”

The enemy wasn’t stupid.

Their elite warriors weren’t engaging Rem or Ragna.

Instead, their lieutenants had infiltrated the regular troops, moving through the ranks like shadows.

A solid strategy.

A hidden force, surgically cutting down key soldiers, could turn the tide.

Jaxon moved.

Tracking down the ones who stood out.

Enkrid walked toward the enemy lines.

“What the hell is this guy?”

A waiting enemy unit saw him approach.

None of them dared to break formation—

But they didn’t attack right away either.

Then, a massive shadow loomed over Enkrid.

The sun blazed behind the figure.

“My name is Bennukt. I am a giant.”

A voice like rolling thunder.

It didn’t need to be said.

His size alone made that obvious.

The massive warrior clenched his fists.

Enkrid raised his blade.

The silver steel gleamed in the shadows.

Both warriors read each other’s breathing.

Searching for the perfect moment to seize the advantage.

Enkrid spoke first.

“Where’s your leader?”

Bennukt answered with action.

He lunged forward like a cannonball.

Boom!

Bennukt slammed his foot against the ground, launching his entire body forward like a cannonball.

Whoosh!

The air seemed to fold in on itself as he shot forward, his shoulder aimed straight at Enkrid.

The moment they collided—

Bang!

A thunderous impact burst between them.

The entire enemy formation, caught in the middle of their charge, turned to look.

A cloud of dust exploded into the air.

As it settled, their figures emerged.

Neither had stepped back.

They had clashed head-on.

The shockwave rippled outward, yet both of them had absorbed the force, letting what needed to flow past while holding their ground.

From that single exchange, Enkrid understood.

Bennukt, the so-called giant, was not as powerful as his size suggested.

It wasn’t arrogance.

It wasn’t overconfidence.

It was simply a cold, calculated assessment.