A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

When Leona parted ways with Rockfreed.

In front of the Border Guard’s wall, a bodyguard named Mathis drew all eyes to himself in an instant.

It was clearly intentional.

It was an aura.

“Killing intent becomes aura. Once the sixth sense opens, it can be done. It’s easy. Oh, it might be a bit difficult for the platoon leader.”

That crazy Jaxon bastard.

Anyway, his words are sharp. It’s as if his tongue was forged in a blacksmith’s shop.

There’s a knife in his words.

Not that Encrid cared much about it.

He just brushed it off, thinking he’s a crazy bastard.

In the end, Jaxon was right.

The sixth sense had opened.

Even though Encrid had used something similar to an aura during a mission to catch a cat, it was hard to make it a part of him.

But this time, he got the hang of it again. Once he relaxed his shoulders, it was easier than he thought.

And so, he ended up using it.

When he told Torres and Finn to be careful, Encrid raised his aura.

And now.

“Move aside, I’ll lure the rest.”

“What?”

Finn reacted.

“What nonsense is this?”

Torres reacted as well.

Encrid hadn’t known Finn for long, and Torres wasn’t much different, so they weren’t at the level of risking their lives for each other.

“Damn, Rangers don’t abandon their comrades.”

“Neither do I.”

But why were these two so eager?

Finn and Torres had eyes that sparkled with a firm resolve.

Yeah, you two are quite decent people.

I get that.

“But get lost. You’re in the way.”

Encrid was cold. There was no time to explain everything.

He had tried explaining in a different tone before.

But they stuck around like ticks.

“…Why is this cool?”

Then Finn muttered.

“This bastard?”

Torres was getting riled up, but they both understood his words.

Encrid was serious.

“Wait at the maximum distance. Once this is over, regroup. I have a plan. We can all survive.”

It was almost like a command. He had done this a few times, showing resolve was better than explaining. There wasn’t time to explain each detail.

Soon.

“See you later.”

Torres spoke with a double meaning and then moved aside.

Finn followed, looking back twice.

As Encrid watched them leave, he thought.

Even though they split up, all the enemies with spears had to come after him.

How should he do that?

He already knew the answer.

Encrid glanced back and shouted.

“Roger, take off your helmet!”

If anyone who knew nothing heard these words, they would find them meaningless.

“Roger! You who first killed my hair and sent it to the sky!”

Like a bard composing a poem, Encrid shouted loudly.

He had heard about what kind of person Roger was in seventy-eight different realities.

Although his bad relationship with Finn was for different reasons.

Roger had earned the nickname ‘the commander who never removes his helmet’.

It was quite memorable.

From his crown to his forehead, his head was a desert.

That was his weak point.

“Do you carry a barren wasteland on your head where not a single blade of grass grows?”

At first, Encrid wondered if this would work.

It was easy to confirm.

In another reality, when he was captured by Roger, he happened to remove Roger’s helmet.

“Bald, huh.”

He saw Roger’s eyes turn wild at this single remark.

To sum up, he needed to redirect the grudge against Finn onto himself.

‘I feel a bit sorry, though.’

Encrid casually ran his hand through his hair.

His thick black hair slipped through his fingers, flaunting its presence.

“That, bastard?”

Roger’s eyes widened in anger.

There was no doubt that if he were caught now, he wouldn’t die peacefully.

Torture would likely be the least of it.

So, he must not be caught.

Encrid ran, and even as he saw Finn and Torres retreating, Roger commanded.

“Catch him!”

Twenty-nine spear-wielding soldiers, filled with rage, rushed forward.

Although they were furious now, in such a state, Roger would soon want to split up the men and drive spears into the necks of Finn and Torres as well.

‘Soon.’

No sooner had he finished thinking.

On the opposite side of Encrid, from where the spearmen were, came the howling of a beast.

Awoooooooo!

The surroundings were bright because it was the night of a dual moon.

The moonlight provided enough visibility to clearly see the beast charging from the opposite side—a lycanthrope, a creature with the head of a wolf and running on two legs.

“Whew.”

Seeing this, Encrid exhaled once to steady his breathing and stopped.

This was the decisive moment. He had to tie up both the spearmen and the lycanthrope.

‘Look at me.’

The way to exude aura.

It involves channeling the intent to kill into your entire body.

It’s about deciding that you can cut down and kill everyone present.

The grip, sheathed in the scabbard, is grasped and slowly drawn. The blade reflects the moonlight as it emerges.

Encrid took a half step forward with his right foot and conveyed with his whole body: If you approach, I’ll cut you down.

Aura, killing intent, battle spirit.

Expressed in words, it’s clearly one of these—an invisible pressure spreading out.

The intense aura was strong enough to make the entire spear-wielding unit and the charging lycanthrope forget about Torres and Finn, who had sidestepped.

Drawn by this aura, the lycanthrope horde and the spear unit charged.

At the center of it was Encrid.

It looked almost like a suicidal act.

* * *

Roger was getting increasingly irritated.

What should have been a simple task of catching one wildcat-like woman was getting strangely complicated.

Should he just let her go?

No. He wanted to catch and kill her.

Wasn’t she the one who killed his brother?

“Damn it, chase them.”

He was determined to catch and kill her. The moment he resolved to do so, Encrid’s shout erupted.

From “Take off your helmet” to “barren wasteland”.

Thump, his heart pounded. The anger rose, and it felt like his blood was boiling.

“That bastard?”

He made up his mind and resolved.

When he caught that bastard, he wouldn’t let him die easily.

He would make him beg for death.

In that moment, losing his reason, he shouted and ordered the chase.

Roger himself started running when—

Awooooo!

The howl of a beast burst out.

The moment Roger saw the lycanthrope horde coming from the opposite side, frustration surged up.

“Damn it.”

How did things turn out like this?

“That bastard.”

It was because of that bastard’s mocking poem about his baldness.

He couldn’t regain his composure because of that bastard’s taunts.

“Damn it.”

Roger cursed at the lycanthropes, trying to steady his mind, but it wasn’t easy.

So, what should he do?

The decision was quick.

“Kill them all.”

The creature, whether it was called by Resha or whatever, was nothing more than a beast.

If they formed a proper formation, they could handle even a colony of lycanthropes.

It was at that moment, just as he was about to speak, having made up his mind.

The pursuer, Encrid, exhaled and then stopped, gripping his sword.

He held his sword and spoke with his body, with his aura, with his intent to kill.

“If you come closer, I’ll cut you down.”

In Roger’s eyes, the surrounding background faded, leaving only the man with the drawn sword.

If it looked like this to him, imagine how it appeared to the other soldiers.

Despite their formation, they were overwhelmed by the aura, and thus the battle began.

There were no orders to stop, so the spearmen at the front did what they always did, fight when they saw an enemy.

And so.

Swoosh!

They thrust their spears with force.

Howl!

Crack!

The claws of an approaching lycanthrope deflected the spear’s blade.

The discordant sound of the wolf’s howl, claws, and spear shaft.

At that sound, a cold streak of reason returned to Roger’s mind.

‘Ah, damn.’

They had attacked without properly forming a line.

It was due to urgency.

No, it was also because the enemy had mocked his weakness.

The aura, the aura was also a problem.

Things were tangled.

And so, chaos ensued.

* * *

Huff.

The first to reach Encrid was the lycanthrope.

Its claws targeted his neck. Watching its large arm movement, Encrid stepped back.

“Hoo.”

He steadied his breathing. He couldn’t afford to be out of breath now.

From this point on, it was like walking a narrow path between cliffs.

Not only was there no room for complacency,there was no room for mistakes.

So, what was needed?

‘Boldness.’

The Heart of the Beast beat strongly.

Thump.

The charging lycanthrope horde and the spearmen flanking them.

Enemies surrounded him on all sides, but there was no reason for him to be anxious. After all, wasn’t this the battlefield he had created?

‘So, what’s next?’

Sharpening his senses, he advanced beyond the realm of the five senses into the sixth sense.

He had to dodge the claws or spearheads flying from behind.

Encrid did just that.

Stepping forward with his left foot, he swung his sword sideways.

Though it wasn’t a powerful slash,it was enough to block the claws of the wolf that lunged at him from the side.

Ting!

He took a passing step to the side, pivoting on his left foot—a technique from the northern style.

Ordinarily, at this point, he would follow up with a downward strike to break the arm or weapon of the attacker from behind.

‘Move forward again.’

Instead, he bent forward.

Whoosh!

The wolf’s claws brushed over his head.

Encrid’s eyes were half-closed.

His vision was blurred.

If someone looked closely, they would say his eyes resembled those of a fish out of water.

‘Focus.’

Rather than concentrating on a single target, this was the method Encrid chose to survive here.

‘Widen your focus.’

He sharpened and spread his focus, encompassing the area around him where his sword could reach.

The outcome of the battle would depend on judgment, distance, timing, and positioning.

He judged in an instant.

He gauged the distance between him and his opponent.

He measured the time it took for his feet to move and the enemy’s weapon to reach him.

He calculated the time it took for his sword to reach its intended target.

He became aware of his current position and where he would need to move next.

With that, Encrid danced alone in this battlefield.

Clang.

Occasionally, the lycanthrope’s claws met his blade.

A spearhead grazed the side of his gambeson.

Claws narrowly missed his neck.

There were even enemies who tried to step on his feet.

Encrid didn’t cut anyone down.

Even when an enemy nearly stepped on his foot, he only nudged them away with his shoulder.

The result was

“Ack!”

A soldier’s death cry.

The soldier he pushed was bitten in the neck by a lycanthrope.

Blood splattered, leaving a mark on the creature’s face.

It wasn’t intentional.

He dodged again and again.

Growl!

When a lycanthrope tried to bite his shoulder, he ducked.

Snap!

He heard the sound of the beast’s jaws snapping shut and then pushed it away.

This action was followed by a pained yelp from the creature.

Thud, thud, thud!

The result was a spear piercing the belly of the lycanthrope that had been targeting Encrid.

He focused on evasion rather than attack.

As he slipped away along the outskirts of the battlefield, not the center,the lycanthropes had to deal with the humans wielding spears,and the spear unit had to fight off the lycanthropes.

All of this was visible to Torres and Finn, who hadn’t moved far away.

“…That…”

“He’s crazy, completely crazy.”

Torres and Finn spoke alternately.

They stood frozen, forgetting the situation, their eyes fixed on Encrid’s movements.

Encrid dodged and dodged again.

Sometimes, he was hit by spear shafts or clawed by the lycanthropes,but he managed to avoid serious injuries. There were no fatal wounds.

Most importantly, look at what he created from the center with a few words and raised aura.

The fight between the beasts and the elite soldiers turned into a chaotic melee.

“It seems like the humans might win.”

The elite soldiers were still elite.

Although their formation had broken, the soldiers grouped into threes or fours, covering each other’s backs.

This allowed them to recover some of the energy they had lost from the initial charge.

They formed groups to block and stab with their shields.

This strategy proved effective.

Then, Roger moved.

He faced three or four lycanthropes alone, spearing one in the head and killing it.

He fought with a short spear instead of a long one, like a tiger on a rampage.

“If we leave him alone…”

They saw him heading straight toward Encrid.

Finn knew without looking that Roger’s eyes would be filled with malice.

Roger always went berserk when mocked about his baldness.

“Crazy bastard.”

“We need to help him.”

Torres shouted, seemingly making a decision.

In the meantime, Roger, the enemy commander, charged fiercely, thrusting his spear toward Encrid.

“Ah.”

Finn gasped, fearing the worst as it appeared that Encrid had been pierced in the side.

“Damn. No, he dodged it.”

Torres corrected. He was right, it was a misunderstanding.

Encrid had trapped the spear under his arm and side while dodging. He had narrowly avoided the blow.

It appeared to be a critical moment.

At least, it seemed so to Torres.

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