A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 244: You Will Never Be Enough

Beastkin, as they matured, developed far superior vision and highly elastic muscles compared to humans, allowing them to perform movements that surpassed physical limits.

Just like now.

As the speed of the charging horse beast and Dunbakel’s own met, she drove her left big toe into the ground.

With that push, she twisted her body. There was a narrow gap between the two charging beasts, and her golden eyes caught it.

Acting on that sharp instinct, she dove into the space with bold decisiveness.

“Are you even a beast, or what?”

Bold and decisive—that was one of Rem’s teachings. Dunbakel had adhered to it diligently.

And so, she slipped between the two beasts.

Even a slight miscalculation could have cost her her head, but her boldness afforded her the room to maneuver.

Twisting her body to the side, she used her extraordinary physical abilities to exploit the gap between the two beasts.

As she did so, her grip on the scimitar tightened.

The blade, held perfectly horizontal, met the charging beast and produced a macabre harmony.

Cr-r-r-unch!

Her right arm bore the strain of the impact, but she had prepared for it. Steadying herself, she gripped her right wrist with her left hand to withstand the pressure.

The moment passed in an instant. The beasts had charged past her, and her response had been equally instantaneous.

In truth, Dunbakel had fixed the position of her scimitar from the moment she began her sprint. The results spoke for themselves.

The blade sliced horizontally through the beast’s body as she ran by.

It wasn’t a magical weapon, but it held up admirably.

It was the kind of act that could have broken the blade, yet Dunbakel had anticipated this outcome.

“Support the blade with its edge aligned to horizontal force.”

Her scimitar had a thick blade. Like most mercenary weapons, it prioritized durability over sharpness.

Now, thanks to her terrifying speed, sharpness was unnecessary.

The blade cleaved through the beast, exiting with a gruesome efficiency.

Splatter!

The beast’s speed was so great that as its black blood and entrails spilled out, they stretched into a grotesque trail behind it.

Its innards, flesh, and bits of bone littered the ground. It could almost have been mistaken for some grotesque artwork.

“Phew!”

Dunbakel exhaled deeply and immediately spun her body around.

A horse doesn’t turn directions easily, even a monstrous one. The structure of its body doesn’t allow for sudden reversals.

Taking advantage of this, Dunbakel planted her right foot into the ground, pivoted sharply, and took off in a new direction.

One of the beasts that had grazed past her realized it had missed and turned wide to face her again.

Hieee!

The beast let out a cry as it charged once more. Dunbakel dashed diagonally, swinging her scimitar downward with all the elasticity in her body.

From a distance, it looked as if she was swinging at thin air.

But the trajectory of her blade intersected perfectly with the charging beast’s neck.

Thunk!

Thud! Thud!

The beast’s decapitated body tumbled twice on the ground before coming to a stop.

Its severed head flew backward, landing with a heavy thud.

Black blood sprayed into the air, droplets falling onto Dunbakel’s white hair, dyeing it as though speckled with ink.

She flicked her scimitar clean in the air and continued her sprint.

After slaughtering the two horse beasts, she was now confronted by a pack of Man-Beast Dogs.

Dunbakel’s scimitar danced to meet the oncoming horde.

Swish! Slash! Swish!

The crescent-shaped weapon moved savagely from side to side, cutting through the pack. Heads, forelegs, and even parts of their torsos were lopped off.

“What’s that weapon of yours?”

Rem had once started with a question, but he had always ended with violence.

Dunbakel had been forced to find her own answers in the meantime.

There had been a day when she’d almost crossed the river of death, merely for using her scimitar to stab.

“Do you ever think about the utility of your weapon? Or is that beastkin brain of yours only focused on reproduction? Just so you know, if you ever come at me naked, I’ll split you in half with my axe.”

Even reproduction required attraction.

Rem, however, was never an option.

Dunbakel let out a battle cry as the memory resurfaced.

“You will never be enough!”

Who or what she meant was irrelevant.

The soldiers watching her looked bewildered, but what did it matter?

With that shout, her curved blade danced a brutal, deadly waltz.

Parts of the Man-Beast Dogs—heads, torsos, limbs—flew through the air.

To the soldiers, the blade’s movements were nearly invisible.

All they could see was a line drawn in the air, followed by the grotesque results of the carnage.

Though they felt a brief wave of relief, they were well-trained soldiers under Enkrid’s guidance.

“Formation!”

The commanding officer barked an order.

These men were Border Guard regulars, trained rigorously by Enkrid himself.

In no time, they formed a line, all armed with spears, facing forward.

Should more horse beasts charge, they would meet a wall of pointed steel.

It wasn’t arrogance—it was confidence born of experience.

Their drill instructor, after all, had been one of the best.

And Dunbakel was living proof of that brutal training.

Two horse beasts charged at the line of spears.

The soldiers held their ground, bracing their weapons.

“Turn—now!”

The commander’s voice rang out at the critical moment.

The soldiers angled their spears as the beasts collided, their weight and momentum overwhelming the wooden shafts.

Crack!

The spears snapped in half under the pressure, but the soldiers, trained to adapt, rolled to the sides and evaded the beasts’ full impact.

Ragna’s words echoed in their minds.

“Would you stand still like that against a cavalry charge?”

The soldiers remembered every word, for survival demanded it.

And so, they held their ground.

The two horse beasts, unable to make further progress, collapsed under their own injuries.

But even as the chaos subsided, it was clear: these beasts were abnormal.

Something was wrong.

The horse beasts writhed on the ground, one still baring its fangs, despite a spear lodged deep in its chest. Blood-red eyes wept black tears, an unnatural and unnerving sight.

“Damn it... something’s off about these things,” one soldier muttered, his knees trembling.

It wasn’t the first time they had faced beasts or monsters, and it wasn’t as though the numbers were overwhelming. Yet, something about these creatures felt fundamentally wrong.

There was no time to dwell on it.

“Stop gawking! No time to stand around!” another soldier yelled, driving his spear down to crush the beast’s skull.

Thud!

The spear punctured the creature’s head with a sickening crack.

Now it was the Man-Beast Dogs’ turn.

Dunbakel, though formidable, couldn’t handle all of them alone. The sheer number of enemies made it impossible.

The soldiers, too, were forced to engage.

“We’re not dying here! Hold the line!” the commander barked.

Despite their initial hesitation, the soldiers found their rhythm. Each one drew their secondary weapons—short swords, arming swords, or even broken spear shafts—and charged into the fray.

“Damn it!”

Swearing under their breath, they struck, stabbed, and sliced at the oncoming beasts. Working together, they formed a tight formation, protecting each other while slowly retreating to a safer position.

Reinforcements would arrive soon. They just needed to hold out a little longer.

Dunbakel, meanwhile, moved like a whirlwind through the chaos.

Her scimitar was a guillotine, cutting down the Man-Beast Dogs one by one.

Her movements were fast and fluid, her strikes precise and powerful. Each attack left a trail of blood and body parts in her wake.

By the time she had dispatched nearly half of the pack, the remaining beasts should have fled. But instead, they seemed cursed—driven to frenzy and madness.

Even as half their numbers lay in pieces, they charged at her with reckless abandon.

“Kaaargh!”

“Krrrrh!”

The piercing cries of the Man-Beast Dogs grated on the soldiers’ ears.

Fighting through the chaos, Dunbakel picked up on a strange rhythm resonating from the forest.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was a heavy, rhythmic sound.

Hoofbeats?

From the forest’s shadows, a massive black figure surged forward.

It moved twice as fast as the horse beasts Dunbakel had fought before. But it wasn’t a horse—not truly.

A horse wouldn’t have hands capable of gripping a weapon, much less a heavy, club-like log.

The towering beast swung the massive club downward with brutal force.

Whoosh!

The heavy weapon swept over her head. If she hadn’t reflexively ducked, her skull might have been pulverized.

At the very least, she would have lost her footing.

Using her crouch for momentum, Dunbakel rolled forward, weaving through the snarling Man-Beast Dogs.

The grotesque creatures lunged at her, gnashing their sharp teeth.

She deflected and struck down most of them, but one managed to sink its fangs into her arm guard.

Gritting her teeth, Dunbakel grabbed the creature’s head and swung it like a weapon.

Wham! Thud! Crash!

She smashed the creature against the others, scattering them like bowling pins.

With her scimitar in hand, she drove the blade into the torso of the dog that had latched onto her arm and dragged it downward.

Black blood and entrails spilled onto the ground, but the beast’s teeth remained embedded in her arm guard.

“Annoying.”

She barely had a moment to breathe before the centaur-like creature returned.

It wasn’t just a beast—this was a monster.

Its lower half resembled a horse, while its upper half bore a grotesquely muscular humanoid torso. Its bulging chest muscles made Dunbakel gag.

“This is insane,” she muttered under her breath.

The monster charged again, wielding its massive club.

Crash! Smash! Crack!

The centaur plowed through the Man-Beast Dogs in its path, their bones shattering and skulls splitting as it barreled forward.

Whoosh!

The club swung again, carving through the air.

Dunbakel leaned back, narrowly avoiding the blow. It was a close call, but not impossible.

At least, she thought, the centaur had cleared out the other beasts, giving her some breathing room.

“Damn it.”

She was wrong.

It wasn’t alone.

More centaurs emerged from the forest, each as terrifying as the first.

“Kiii-yo-yo-yo!”

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Their guttural cries echoed as their blood-red, pupil-less eyes locked onto her.

Some of them turned their gaze toward the soldiers.

I want to live.

Dunbakel’s desire to survive surged within her. When had she first felt this overwhelming drive?

It had been after meeting Enkrid.

His mere presence had ignited something within her—a floodgate of yearning to exist, to thrive.

Living wasn’t just about surviving; it was about becoming part of something greater.

She didn’t want to die alone, estranged from the group she longed to belong to.

Should I run?

Would Enkrid blame her for fleeing? Probably not.

But...

“Them.”

Enkrid knew the name of every soldier under his command.

And Dunbakel? She hadn’t even memorized five.

Could she abandon them to die when she had the power to save them?

Life didn’t come with answers, only choices.

Is surviving alone truly the best I can do?

Enkrid had always pushed himself to find his best path forward.

And now, as her thoughts raced, Dunbakel made her choice.

She would fight.

She would live—not merely survive but live in a way that honored Enkrid’s belief in her.

Letting out a deep breath, she focused on a single thought:

“Have I ever thanked him for taking me in? I’ll live and thank him properly. Not just survive—I’ll do it his way.”

Her decision made, Dunbakel sprang into action.

“Look at me!”

She activated her transformation, her voice booming with power.

A fierce aura spread outward as her golden eyes locked onto the centaurs.

Her body shifted, fur sprouting as her form became leonine. She let out a deep, resonant roar.

“Grrrrr.”

It was a sound designed to unnerve any foe, and it worked.

Dunbakel lunged at the nearest centaur, her scimitar flashing in an arc.

Whoosh!

The centaur twisted its upper body while shifting its lower half, narrowly avoiding the strike.

It moved with agility no mounted cavalry could match.

Anticipating its evasion, Dunbakel struck with her left hand, claws extended.

Her razor-sharp nails raked across the centaur’s blood-red eyes.

“Screeeeech!”

The monster howled in agony.

“Come after me, you bastards!”

Her taunt was directed at the centaurs and the remaining Man-Beast Dogs alike.

The soldiers, too stunned to speak, could only watch as she dashed into the forest.

The centaurs roared in unison and gave chase, the Man-Beast Dogs following close behind.

The soldiers were saved—for now.

But centaurs were among the most dangerous mid-tier monsters, known for their deadly colonies.

“...We’re in trouble,” one of the soldiers muttered.

***

“So, Dunbakel has been missing in the forest for four days?”

Enkrid’s voice was calm, his expression unreadable.

The Border Guard had sent reinforcements, a single company of soldiers, who had just arrived to assess the situation.

The new company’s commander asked, “And now the centaur colony has taken over the plains near the forest?”

“Yes,” replied the new lord of Martai, formerly the frontier defense commander.

The gathered men couldn’t help but steal glances at Enkrid.

His expression was as impassive as ever.

And yet, for reasons they couldn’t explain, it felt like he was furious.