Eternally Regressing Knight

Vancento had devised the best plan in the given situation. Well, he had.

He had decided to kill the guards, Enkrid and his group, and then take the opportunity to ally with Martai and overthrow the city.

He even added that this was something that should have been done long ago.

Now, Vancento was in a position where he could no longer speak.

His head split open and buried in the ground, there was no more speech to be had.

“Let’s go.”

Enkrid sorted through the two corpses and the wagon, taking what could be taken, and buried the bodies in the ground.

‘Not bad.’

A hefty pouch of gold coins, a few jewels, and several black stones whose purpose was unknown.

The black stones didn’t seem like jewels, but when he looked at them, a strange energy was felt.

Could they be sold? They might be worth something, so he took them along.

Stuffing the gold and other items into his backpack, he also grabbed the black dagger that the guards had used. In the end, he had gathered everything of value.

It felt like he’d looted everything.

“I feel like a thief.”

Enkrid said, and Rem joked, “Enkrid’s band of thieves, what if we start an army?”

Despite the words, Rem wasn’t the type to steal from innocent people.

Without resting, Enkrid and his group moved on. Naturally, Dunbakel, tied up, had to follow along.

There was no chance to escape.

They were informed of the ambush position.

Even though they had been told that some of the Black Blade’s core forces might be there, they were all still relaxed.

“Rough wilderness, black sun, crumbling earth, breaking skies.”

Rem suddenly stopped walking and sang a song, one that sounded like something you’d hear in a frontier town.

It wasn’t a particularly good song, but surprisingly, Rem’s voice was quite good.

“Racing through the sky, shattering it down.”

Listening to his song with one ear and letting it slip out the other, Enkrid heard the others up ahead talking.

“How did you master the sword movements? How did you memorize them?”

“I’ve memorized them all.”

It seemed like a complicated question, but the answer was clear.

The blonde-haired person seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if choosing their words carefully, before blurting out,

“Reaching to the left with your hand is to send the opponent to the right. You must not disregard the meaning of each movement.”

“Okay, understood.”

Enkrid, the leader, nodded.

‘Understood?’ Dunbakel thought, utterly confused. What were they talking about?

Enkrid continued and clarified his understanding.

“Every step and every hand movement with the sword has meaning, right?”

The blonde nodded lightly, cheerfully.

“Yes, every movement has its meaning.”

Dunbakel still couldn’t quite grasp what they were talking about, but he understood one thing.

‘They’re talking about swordsmanship.’

Dunbakel remained baffled. Why were they so carefree?

Something itched in his chest. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but one thing was clear.

Curiosity welled up.

What were these people all about?

***

Enkrid had a small realization while listening to Ragna’s words.

It was exactly what he needed to hear right now.

Ragna had figured this out after a single battle and said it.

His awkwardness in phrasing didn’t matter.

‘As long as I understand it, it’s all good.’

The problem didn’t exist.

Enkrid reflected on the lesson he’d been given by rearranging his thoughts.

‘Every sword movement has meaning.’

It was essential to understand all of it.

He had also felt something while fighting the beasts from the rear earlier.

The combination of the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

Ultimately, wielding the sword was the responsibility of the person holding it.

‘Understanding and internalizing it.’

If he understood it fully, he could deconstruct it and use it, pulling out the needed movements when required.

Ragna’s words had begun with the meaning of movements, but for Enkrid, the end result was a lesson in how to approach learning swordsmanship.

“Medium swordsmanship should come after you’ve understood the sword techniques you’ve learned so far,” Ragna said.

“And after you’ve internalized them into your body,” Enkrid added.

They nodded, looking ahead.

“There’s an ambush up ahead,” Rem finished his song and Enkrid put an end to the conversation with Ragna. The beast-woman spoke up from behind them.

Her voice was strong, hiding none of her urgency.

“What’s your name?”

Enkrid turned his head slightly and asked.

Though he wondered why the beast-woman was asking the same question over and over, the beast-woman responded with a look that seemed to say, “Why does it matter?”

“Dunbakel.”

“Alright, Dunbakel.”

Enkrid tried to explain.

Why were they heading straight into the ambush? Why were they taking such risks?

Enkrid didn’t see this ambush as a threat.

Why?

Who was it that had passed on the information about his group’s forces?

The dead noble and the guards.

All the Black Blade assailants were dead, and the only survivor was this beast-woman.

If this beast-woman had secretly passed on word, things would be different.

‘But there’s not even a hint of that.’

They hadn’t left room for that to happen, but there was something they could feel just from looking at her.

Questions, curiosity, and a mix of desire were in his golden eyes.

Dunbakel, the beast-woman, was only asking.

Why head toward the ambush?

The answer was simple.

If a small elite force was waiting without understanding the strength of their enemies, then—

‘An ambush wouldn’t be an ambush in that case.’

Of course, all these calculations could go awry, and they could end up in danger. The probability of that was always present.

But what if the Black Sword had gone half-mad and sent more than half of their forces here?

‘That won’t happen.’

The chances of that were extremely low.

Krais had acknowledged that Enkrid wasn’t using his head, but when he did, it worked out quite well.

Though the phrasing irked him a bit, it wasn’t a bad remark. Enkrid knew it well.

‘If it were me…’

If he were the leader of the Black Sword, he’d send exactly twice the number of forces than the ones previously sent.

That would be enough.

If he were to worry more, he would add someone skilled at murder rather than combat.

So.

The strength composition would be flawed. But it wasn’t just him; Rem and Ragnar were also with him.

Ragnar, who yawned and muttered he was sleepy as he walked with his mouth agape.

Rem, kicking stones as he walked.

Neither of them showed any signs of tension.

Both were still overwhelming in strength compared to Enkrid.

This was the miscalculation about their strength estimation.

This was Enkrid’s belief.

Dunbakel’s repeated mention of the ambush ahead was his way of asking why they were moving forward.

Enkrid had an answer, but saying all of it would make things long-winded, and there was no need to explain it to the golden-eyed beastman before him.

“If you’re asking why we’re heading toward an ambush, it’s simple.”

He paused for a moment before glancing at the beast-woman’s eager eyes and added:

“Because I want to swing my sword more.”

It wasn’t a lie. He had calculated, but it was also a desire deep within his heart.

At those words, Dunbakel’s golden eyes started to shake wildly.

“…Why?”

Why would they go for such a reason?

But at the same time, it made sense.

The teachings of Krimhart surged from the depths of her heart, like a fountain striking his head.

Ding— It felt like someone had struck a bell right next to his ear.

‘You will live and die on the battlefield.’

Krimhart, the god she believed in, had said this.

The man before him was about to live that way.

At the same time, he remembered the words of the fortune-teller she had heard when she was driven out of the village.

“When you seek death in the future, a guide will be by your side.”

At the time, he had thought it was just a pitying remark, but now it seemed different.

Dunbakel had prepared herself for death, but he was still alive.

Whose whim had saved him?

It was because of the man before him.

Within Dunbakel’s heart, a subtle breeze of envy, jealousy, and admiration grew.

‘I want to have his child.’

In reality, it would be impossible.

Hybrid children of beastmen and humans weren’t easy to conceive.

But there was more than one wish.

‘I want to stay beside him.’

I want to be by his side. I want to learn from his life. I want to die by his side.

Complicated and subtle desires burned in her heart.

Enkrid caught a glimpse of her eyes.

‘Why are her eyes like that?’

He had gotten used to seeing people with crazy eyes recently, but this was the first time he had seen such a look.

Something strange yet intense.

“By the way, why didn’t Esther come along?”

While staring into Dunbakel’s eyes, Rem suddenly asked.

Avoiding her gaze, Enkrid responded to Rem.

“I don’t know. Our Esther is fickle.”

Enkrid said it as a joke, and Rem chuckled.

“If Esther hears that, she’ll probably draw a musical score on your face. But it doesn’t seem like an entirely wrong statement either.”

Esther, who would act like she would never leave his side one moment, would then disappear from the camp for several days at a time.

Considering her behavior, the term ‘fickle’ seemed quite fitting.

The group walked leisurely up a small hill.

A few small trees appeared in sight, and soon the trees were dense enough to obscure their view on both sides.

The path was rough. Rocks jutted out from the soil, and ants marched in lines, carrying the bodies of dead insects.

It was a hard path to walk.

As they walked, it didn’t feel like they were on a hill, but more like a small mound.

Originally, if they crossed this place, it would be a two-day walk to their agreed destination.

The place where the envoy and the Black Sword should meet.

Of course, the promise had now become meaningless.

Heh.

The wind rustled the leaves, and sunlight filtered through them.

It was a pleasant day. The wind wasn’t suffocating, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves, not too hot.

As they moved a little further, an open area appeared, and behind it, thick foliage and thorn bushes mixed together.

So, there was no more path forward. It was a dead end.

“This is as far as you go.”

Inside the open area, about ten people were visible. One of them spoke.

Three women and seven men.

Among them, there was someone wielding an axe, someone standing with their arms hanging down, someone sitting on a moderately large rock, and even someone perched on a tree branch above.

There was a variety of them.

The atmosphere grew cold. The one who spoke glared, and Enkrid and his group stopped walking.

Now, what would they do?

Tension thickened the air. In the midst of it, Enkrid spoke up.

“Wow, an ambush.”

It was in a theatrical tone. Moreover, his acting was terrible.

“Wow, we’ve been caught.”

Rem chimed in.

“How surprising.”

Ragnar added something similar, while yawning and rubbing his eyes, making it look like he was genuinely shocked.

Dunbakel, watching them, was still confused.

Suddenly a performance?

“To wait for us here, these are some meticulous ones.”

Enkrid continued. He was talking about their meticulousness while picking his ears, which was quite an impression.

“An unexpected moment. I’m so nervous I could die.”

Rem said, scratching his nose.

Even with his nose in his hands, Rem still looked handsome, and that never faded.

“I almost bit my tongue from surprise.”

As he spoke, Enkrid popped a candy into his mouth.

Crunch.

Sweet. But where did that candy come from?

Dunbakel couldn’t help but wonder about it.

“Ugh, I want to run away.”

Enkrid’s words were matched by Rem, who was usually sincere in teasing others.

What were the two of them doing?

Provocation.

Hearing their words, scratching at the enemy’s insides right away, even Dunbakel was starting to get irritated.

What about the enemy?

“Are these guys crazy?”

One of them showed his confusion.

“Do you all want to die that badly?”

A woman feigned casualness.

“You’re all dead anyway.”

One who clearly wasn’t interested in them.

“You little bastards?”

One was getting angry.

Enkrid nodded after observing the reactions and looked at Rem. Rem also looked at Enkrid, snorted, and nodded.

Both seemed quite pleased with the reactions they had provoked.

“Don’t run away, stay here.”

A blonde with red eyes, a person named Ragnar, said and pulled her back.

If there was a time to run, it would be now.

However, Dunbakel chose not to flee, but to watch.

She wanted to know, to see.

What were these three relying on to come this far?

The enemy was a well-known force even in the Black Sword.

Dunbakel still didn’t know the full extent of Enkrid, Rem, and Ragnar’s abilities.

“I’ve never met anyone like this in my life. Since I don’t see Vancento, I guess they’ve already taken care of him, but did youq know we were waiting?”

The man standing at the front had a scruffy beard. His weapon was a trident.

The tip was sharp, and the axe blade beside the spearhead was as wide as the palm of a hand.

Just the way he held it diagonally showed he wasn’t someone to take lightly.

If that axe blade caught you, your skull would split open like a ripe fruit.

“How did you know?”

Enkrid asked.

“You have a natural talent for teasing people, huh?”

The one with the trident widened his eyes and spoke.

Rem chuckled.

“Correct! I’ve never met a person with a tongue as sharp as yours.”

Enkrid felt a little wronged.

“I was just being sincere.”

Of course, he had a bit of teasing intent, but wasn’t that a reasonable thing to say in this situation?

How did he know? That was perfectly appropriate.

“So, don’t think you’ll win with your tongue, you should come at me with your weapons.”

Rem said, as if wrapping up the situation.

The trident-wielder frowned.

He hesitated for a brief moment, just a moment.

‘They came knowing about the ambush?’

There was no time for prolonged hesitation.

“What’s there to think about?”

The fighter was the first to step forward. He wore brass knuckles with flat iron plates attached to them.

Enkrid had made the move and provoked them, anticipating that the enemy might hesitate.

The enemy’s response was exactly what he had hoped for.

When the brawler stepped forward, the trident-wielder could no longer hold back.

‘Kill them first.’

The force of the Black Sword here was well-regarded in the branch.

Except for the branch leader, they were known as the “Ten Swords.”

When their group of ten gathered, they felt confident they could beat anyone, as long as they weren’t facing a knight order.

Considering the current situation, there was no chance the Red Cloak Knights would arrive, so the trident-wielder was confident in victory and moved forward with the plan.

That’s how it was. That’s what he thought. He believed in it.

That was until the brawler and the axe-wielder were about to strike their first blow.