A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The monsters charged at him endlessly, and human screams echoed in succession.

No, at some point, the screams disappeared, leaving only the stench of blood and the cries of monsters and beasts.

The fight had started at dawn, and now it was noon. The sun had passed overhead.

Encrid couldn’t block all the attacks.

A hyena beast’s head, detached from its body, was clamped onto his left thigh.

His left arm hung limp.

While his right hand was still functioning, his right foot was not.

His toes had been smashed by a hammer, causing his body to sway. His vision became slightly blurred.

And yet, the monsters kept coming.

“Growl!”

There were no more pleas for help or screams from somewhere nearby.

Dragging his foot, Encrid swung his sword.

He had overused the Heart of the Beast, causing his muscles to scream in pain.

From morning until past noon, he had been cutting down knolls and hyena beasts for almost half a day.

The number exceeded a hundred.

If anyone had known.

If anyone had seen.

It would have been a terrifying sight, but he was the only one left here.

“Ah, Krais.”

Taking a step back, he stumbled over something. It was a corpse, so damaged it couldn’t even groan as its stomach was torn open, spilling its intestines.

It was a familiar face.

Krais, with beast bite marks on his cheek.

His face was ruined.

He always claimed his face was his greatest asset.

Finn had gone out on patrol today. Lucky for her, since she’d probably run away if she saw this situation. At least Finn wouldn’t die.

The rest were probably all dead. Maybe.

Today, again, is a wall. It’s a near-certainty, a premonition.

Even without the ferryman telling him, he knew.

No, he could almost hear the mocking voice of the ferryman.

“Thinking you can surpass the wall just by training your sword? Go ahead, try it. Surrounded by monsters and beasts, you’ll suffocate. That’ll make you realize your limits.”

Encrid exhaled deeply and gripped his sword again.

‘Limits, my foot.’

The knoll group, which had been charging for a while, finally stopped.

“Growl!”

“Growl!”

“Growl!”

A rough cry erupted. Then, the group of monsters parted to the sides.

From the middle of the parted group, a knoll emerged.

It walked out with the typical hunched posture of knolls, its back arched with its spine protruding upwards.

It wasn’t a giant with an extra head or anything unusual.

It didn’t wield any extraordinary weapon, either.

It was just an ordinary knoll.

The only difference was that its fur stood more erect, and its mouth was longer than the others.

In its hands were two daggers, reflecting the sunlight as they gleamed. Whatever was coated on them made them shine.

The knoll’s appearance made the growling even louder.

The air resonated with the sound, hurting Encrid’s eardrums.

He raised his sword before his eyes, feeling his arms tremble.

It was the overuse of the Heart of the Beast.

‘This is it.’

Encrid felt a bit unjustly treated.

What was this?

He had just woken up and intended to do some training when suddenly, monsters came at him like a tidal wave.

And now here he was.

The glowing yellow eyes of the knoll before him stared at Encrid.

Encrid’s blue eyes, reminiscent of a lake, stared back at the knoll.

Blue eyes and yellow eyes acknowledged each other’s presence.

In a colony of monsters, there is always a leader.

You could tell just by the atmosphere.

This knoll was the leader.

The leader, holding daggers in both hands, twitched its nose. Then, its snout split into a grin.

Was that a smile of confidence in victory?

Was the knoll smiling?

Was that right?

Encrid pondered for a moment before deciding to ignore it completely.

It wasn’t a pleasant sight, but what did it matter whether the knoll smiled or not?

He just reflected on the events that had transpired during this desperate battle.

‘I practiced the Correct Sword Technique so thoroughly.’

Well, he had tried to master the basics. It was unlikely to yield any immediate results.

Especially when facing monsters, the Correct Sword Technique was difficult to employ.

It was, after all, a tide of monsters.

‘They aren’t opponents that you can just play around with using swordsmanship.’

Luagarne had once said that the Correct Sword Technique was the most disadvantageous when facing monsters.

To break through a tide of monsters alone, one would need to be at least of Knight level, or at least a Squire-Knight.

So, was there nothing to gain from this desperate struggle?

No, there was something.

Encrid smiled. As always, he discovered a new clue, and that brought him joy.

Countless spears, blades, and monsters—what he felt while facing them.

‘If I can move forward even at the risk of death.’

The Sense of Evasion couldn’t be acquired through mere training.

But now, he glimpsed its faint outline.

His body bore countless wounds—bitten, cut, slashed, and struck.

He felt it all in every moment.

He thought about it each time he was hit. Why did he get hit there? Why couldn’t he dodge it?

Reflecting on it while fighting, Encrid pondered and recalled.

Perhaps recognizing Encrid’s smile, or perhaps simply disliking the atmosphere, the knoll leader closed its split mouth and charged.

With a swift push off the ground, it dashed forward with frightening speed.

It lacked weight, but the speed was such that it could easily remind one of a Squire-Knight.

Without training in dynamic vision, it was a speed that could easily be missed. Even now, it was barely avoidable.

Encrid barely twisted his body, half-squatting as he dodged.

Knolls wield weapons, but they don’t use any particular swordsmanship.

The knoll’s attacks were simple and straightforward.

If they weren’t, dodging would have been impossible.

Encrid gripped his sword with both hands and slashed upwards.

His body was a mess, so he couldn’t deliver his best strike.

But he hadn’t expected the knoll to dodge so easily either.

With a quick movement, the knoll leader retreated as fast as it had charged, leaving an afterimage.

Encrid’s sword cut through empty air.

Between the knoll’s yellow fur, its black spots appeared and disappeared like a fleeting shadow, then reappeared right before his eyes!

The knoll had dodged the sword and charged again.

This time, Encrid had no way to dodge, the dagger stabbed deep into his thigh.

It felt like a red-hot poker being driven in, the searing pain spreading from his thigh throughout his body.

As the dagger pierced his thigh, Encrid tried to grab the knoll, but it retreated once again. His empty grasp cut through the air. The knoll backed away and watched Encrid. It circled him slowly, keeping him at the center.

Drawing out time? At this moment? Why?

What kind of monster is this?

At that moment, Encrid realized.

“You, you bastard.”

Instead of smiling, Encrid showed admiration.

The dagger stuck in his thigh, coated with something that gleamed.

A dull, throbbing pain and simultaneous nausea overwhelmed him. It wasn’t something he could endure.

“Ugh!”

It was only natural to vomit blood and whatever he had eaten.

Poison.

The dagger had been coated with poison.

‘Cunning bastard.’

The knoll knew its strengths well.

It was faster in both hands and feet and had quicker reactions than the other knolls. It knew that even a scratch on its opponent would lead to victory.

The knoll knew how to fight and knew how to win.

“Grr.”

With that, Encrid collapsed to the ground.

‘Luagarne isn’t coming back.’

He had wondered if holding on might bring help. It wasn’t hope or dependence, just an acknowledgment of reality.

Knowing that no help was coming, that was enough. It was the end.

He realized he had to endure alone and prepared for it.

Afterwards? He experienced pain like never before.

The knoll with the dagger poked Encrid’s body here and there as if playing.

Encrid, poisoned, suffered for over half an hour before he died.

Darkness, blackness, and then the ferryman again.

“The Correct Sword Technique? Do you think that would work? You’ve become a dinghy surrounded by waves of monsters and beasts?”

Ah, what could he say?

The ferryman’s response was so predictable.

“I see.”

Recalling Deutsche’s reaction, Encrid tried the same trick on the ferryman.

“…Hmm, you bastard?”

The ferryman seemed to guess Encrid’s intentions immediately and got angry.

Waking up again at dawn.

Encrid prepared his armor first.

Clanking as he moved, he gathered the remaining sword, various throwing weapons, and armor, feeling the heavy weight pressing on him. It brought a sense of stability.

The noise from his preparations likely woke the rest of the group.

This, too, was anticipated.

No, it was intentional. He had questions to ask.

Frog, Luagarne spoke up.

“Fully armed from the morning?”

“Do you know anything about the cult?”

The sudden question brought a chill into the hut.

It was Frog’s doing, not the usually calm Luagarne.

“Where did you hear that?”

Of course, it was from Luagarne’s mouth.

“Just briefly, during my mercenary days.”

“Hmm.”

“Could we talk outside?”

Luagarne suppressed the tension in the air. There was no need to say anything right now.

Fine, let’s go outside and hear what she has to say.

The mention of a cult piqued his curiosity.

Encrid stepped outside and checked his gear.

Everything was in order. It was the same as always with the Isolation Technique. Moving while fully armored was naturally burdensome and uncomfortable.

This discomfort forced him to correct his posture, and from that corrected posture, he recalled Audin’s teachings.

“Training the body is inherently uncomfortable.”

Hmm, truly a madman.

The discomfort was meant to burden the muscles, not the joints.

How much time had he invested in this? How many times had he repeated this today?

Encrid quickly corrected his posture. Today’s Isolation Technique would have to be short and intense.

There wasn’t much time.

Luagarne, stepping outside to talk, was baffled to see Encrid immediately engrossed in training, but she just accepted it.

That was just the kind of person Encrid was.

“Cult, why did you suddenly bring that up?”

Encrid glanced at Luagarne.

She had seen cultists before and had even been involved in wiping them out.

They often operated in dark corners and shady backstreets of cities.

Of course, such matters were typically handled by the church’s inquisitors, so mercenaries rarely got involved.

Occasionally, such problems arose in rural villages, where the village head would hire mercenaries.

Encrid had once dealt with people who smoked a certain herb that scrambled the brain, like some kind of weed.

They were half-crazed individuals.

Luagarne probably wasn’t referring to those kinds of cultists.

So, she had to ask and listen.

The sudden mention of a cult had come from Luagarne.

“It appeared suddenly in a dream.”

Encrid was a good talker.

Being a good talker meant being able to gauge the other person’s intentions, being quick-witted, and having good reflexes.

Encrid knew that Luagarne wasn’t looking at him normally.

‘She probably doesn’t think I’m sane.’

Even saying this might smooth things over.

If not? Then so be it.

He could give up on learning about the cult. Half of it was curiosity, and the other half was a feeling that something might be connected.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that this wasn’t just a random colony or gathering of monsters.

The number of monsters converging wasn’t normal.

“A dream?”

Luagarne couldn’t help but feel a deep interest in the man before him. Part of that interest stemmed from the fact that Encrid’s mind didn’t seem entirely normal.

‘Well, that could be the case.’

It seemed Luagarne had accepted it.

Even in this situation, this man was still moving, fully armored.

How could that be normal?

He was indeed worthy of being called the leader of the Madmen Platoon.

“True cultists are dangerous, very dangerous. Even mentioning their name lightly can be risky.”

Luagarne said.

“Yes, I understand.”

Was the explanation lacking? Luagarne thought for a moment and added a few more words.

“Cults spread across the entire continent, but the truly dangerous ones are those who believe in the ‘Demon Realm’ as their sacred place. The only real threat is the ‘Cult of the Demon Realm Sanctuary,’ also known as the ‘Rebirth Cult,’ who worship the Six Demons.”

That should suffice. It was a superficial explanation, but there was no need to know more.

Luagarne kept her words brief.

Encrid felt he had heard enough.

Whether it was the Cult of the Demon Realm Sanctuary, the Rebirth Cult, or the group worshipping the Six Demons.

‘Could it be connected to them?’

It wasn’t appropriate to ask Luagarne further about that.

He would have to figure it out through observation over time.

Encrid continued his training.

Luagarne, watching him, asked with a grumbling stomach noise,

“But, aren’t you hot?”

Sweat trickled down Encrid’s forehead.

It was hot.

Training his muscles while fully armored.

It must have looked a bit odd.

“The weight of the armor adds strain to the muscles, which is beneficial.”

Encrid casually responded, making up an explanation that sounded plausible. This was quick thinking.

Luagarne thought it made some sense.

Time passed again.

Encrid considered if he could evacuate Esther and Krais in advance.

The thick palisade wasn’t an easy barrier to overcome, and there were two gates.

One at the front, and the other connected to the rocky hill used as a quarry.

Send them to the back?

But the back gate was securely closed.

Krais had mentioned that they never opened it during normal times and tried to keep the quarry area hidden.

‘Are they hiding something?’

It didn’t matter.

Encrid didn’t push his body too hard.

He relaxed slightly, yet sweat still dripped to the ground.

The day was hot. Even in the morning, wearing such armor made him sweat, and swinging a sword added to it.

Waiting like this for the horde of monsters and beasts.

It was as if the ferryman was asking,

“What can a lone human do in the face of an oncoming wave of monsters?”

No, it wasn’t the ferryman’s question.

It was Encrid asking himself.

What can a human, standing alone, really do?

There was much.

Things he had realized, things he had recalled anew.

Within the wave of monsters, he could train his senses.

Reaction training, judgment training based on quickly incoming information, training the ability to contract muscles instantly, and training crisis control by maneuvering his body against multiple blades.

Everything was training.

Hadn’t he realized this before, when facing the wizard Resha, the lycanthrope colony, and the ambush unit of Aspen?

He resolved to use everything he had as he moved towards tomorrow, making the most of today.

He had committed not just to getting through today, but to fully utilizing it.

So he would do just that.

Encrid steeled himself inwardly.

With the blade of his mind as a foundation.

He held his sword forward.

Thus, he faced a new day. Encrid turned his back on the dawning sky.

Thud!

Roar!

Soon, a loud noise was followed by the cries of the knolls.

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