A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 316

Worry, ignorance, despair.

Those who had been chasing Enkrid gave up.

The commander, who had been at the forefront, could not speak.

His adjutant, standing beside him, spoke quietly.

"We've lost him."

It couldn't be helped.

They had thrown the rope, thinking it was the last chance, but it was cut by sheer force, and the target had escaped.

It was superhuman strength.

And that wasn't the end of it.

As if he were immune to fatigue, he kept running forward, forward, without stopping.

A madman had no need to rest.

He never stopped running.

Seeing that, no one had the courage to chase anymore.

The target never stopped, always moving forward.

Eventually, running and walking continued.

At some point, the orders from the commander began to dwindle, and his steps slowed.

Enkrid had completely escaped the trap set by Abnaier.

Even the Grey Dogs stopped.

The commander of the Grey Dogs stared blankly at the trace of the vanished man.

Not only had they gone beyond the encirclement, but they had even entered the enemy's lines.

If they pursued further, they would be met with a counterattack.

Thus, it was over.

‘Abnaier, Abnaier.’

The commander of the Grey Dogs repeatedly muttered the name of the man who had claimed he would take full responsibility for everything.

Hadn't he said that it didn't matter if every soldier died, just to capture that one elite soldier?

"Yes, call me a fool in the future, if you will.

Go ahead and call me an idiot who sacrificed a thousand soldiers just to capture one elite soldier!"

Abnaier's impassioned speech echoed in his mind.

If they had all died, what would he have said then?

Half of the soldiers hadn’t died.

In fact, only a small number had.

Two sorcerers, a few mercenaries, two swordsmen from the Hurrier family.

The number of regular soldiers lost was minimal.

The enemy had evaded them.

They had carved out an impossible, almost unacknowledgeable escape route that anyone would refuse to admit.

The commander of the Grey Dogs accepted it.

‘We can't catch him.’

All that was left was the report.

Had they really sacrificed a thousand soldiers just to kill him and end up as tragic losers?

Abnaier couldn't even achieve that.

He had been denied even that chance.

***

Abnaier acknowledged that something had happened with Galaph and Jun-Knight.

"They haven't arrived."

Looking far off toward the battlefield, his adjutant Nilf lowered his head.

With this, Abnaier had staked everything.

It was a gamble against the king.

The end was near.

"What about those who claimed they could assassinate him?"

He had sent out those who weren’t afraid to fight in the shadows.

"They're not responding."

"They’ve either fled... or..."

"They’ve been taken down," Abnaier muttered coldly.

Flee? Impossible. They couldn’t run.

These were people who could destroy an entire clan with just a gesture from Abnaier.

Which meant... they had been taken down.

By whom?

It was absurd.

They had been perfectly outplayed.

"Hahahaha."

Abnaier laughed.

If he didn’t feel a sense of despair, then he wasn’t human.

"Is the world against me?

Has the goddess of luck turned her back on me?

Or is it that I’ve missed something?

What did I miss?"

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He spoke to himself.

The calm words were daggers he was driving into himself.

Nilf couldn’t know what Abnaier didn’t understand.

Nilf kept silent.

They were in the commander's tent.

It was just the two of them, alone.

Abnaier sat down next to the brazier, lowering his head.

The hot flames scorched a few hairs on his head.

The crackling of fire echoes as sparks flew from the brazier.

One of those sparks landed on Abnaier’s face, but he didn’t seem to notice the sting as he lost himself in thought.

He pondered over his thoughts.

Was it really all a curse? Should everything be blamed?

Or should he just accept it?

What should he accept?

What should he accept?

Is it that luck didn’t favor him?

If it wasn’t luck, how had he escaped?

What happened to Galaph and Jun-Knight?

They were the ones he had sent to intercept.

It was the second contingency to capture the elite forces.

But that plan had been cut short before it even began.

Had they only captured a few of the most noticeable ones in the enemy lines and returned, only to be captured in return?

Could that really happen?

That Ayah?

Galaph, who grasped the river?

And what happened to those assassination clans?

They had planned to take down an enemy commander, but there had been no disturbance on the enemy side.

They had disappeared without a trace.

How could that be?

‘Did they send a knight from Naurillia?’

"Nilf!"

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his mouth opened.

"Was it a knight?

A red cloak? Cyphrus?"

Abnaier called out the names of those infamous in Azpen, but it was meaningless.

Nilf’s most important task was to survey Naurillia from within.

They couldn’t send out a knight right now.

That was the conclusion.

"No."

Nilf’s voice was softer than ever.

Abnaier closed his mouth again.

His mind searched for possibilities, but would there ever be an answer?

In truth, if Abnaier didn’t know that Enkrid was repeating today, he would never have understood.

Abnaier rubbed his forehead with both hands, letting out a big sigh before speaking.

"I’ve lost."

A clean defeat.

Looking at the possibilities, there was so much more the enemy could have done.

They had grown to knight rank in the middle of battle.

Or perhaps they had always been knights without anyone realizing.

In that case, it was inevitable what happened to Galaph and Jun-Knight.

It was the conclusion of what had happened with them.

The assassination clan had been outplayed.

Had the fairies intervened?

He had heard that there were fairy warriors in the enemy ranks.

However, no matter how skilled they were, it shouldn’t have been easy.

Well, let’s assume they had some hidden talent.

And Enkrid, Enkrid, Enkrid...

Abnaier repeated the name three times.

Enkrid had slipped through.

He truly didn’t understand.

How could anyone do such a thing?

He could’ve been born lucky.

But if not...

‘A genius of intuitive judgment.’

A commander who moves with instinct, not intellect.

He’d heard of such people.

But he never thought such a person could exist.

Intuition is the sum of experience.

You cannot strategize based solely on feelings.

Maybe, you could be lucky and feel the flow of military discipline once or twice, but to rely on intuition, you must know something first.

Only then does intuition become a valid judgment.

Thus, you need experience to feel that sense of foreboding.

But the enemy was a late-blooming genius, not a commander who’d been through battles his whole life.

Even the oldest veterans would find it impossible.

Even if you were a veteran who had been through a thousand battles, you could still capture and kill him.

But he missed.

"I can’t just give up and say it’s impossible."

Abnaier muttered to himself.

He had used all the moves he had, but still, he had something left to gain by putting his life on the line.

"Will you use it?"

Nilf asked, knowing the answer, and Abnaier nodded.

"It’s something I started. I have to finish it."

When he brought in the wizard and Jun-Knight, Abnaier had unwittingly gathered unexpected allies.

However, using them now would mean admitting his own defeat.

When he returned to the Kingdom, the arrows of blame would be waiting for him.

He wouldn’t be able to maintain the same position.

It would be lucky if he wasn’t executed.

Even so, he couldn’t end it in defeat.

Abnaier stepped outside.

‘I’ve never lost this badly before.’

None of his plans had succeeded.

What had his plan originally been?

The priority was to reduce the enemy’s main forces, represented by their elite troops.

The first target was Enkrid, and the second was his subordinates.

‘I didn’t expect Ayah to fail.’

Her eyes were special.

In some ways, they were more accurate than Frokk’s talent detection.

The eyes that ‘Will’ had given her could see through the strength of others at a glance.

Thanks to those eyes, she had earned the nickname ‘Ayah, who never fights a losing battle.’

She herself had walked around calling herself Azpen’s greatest beauty.

‘And now Ayah is down?’

In reality, something that could not be understood, yet had to be forced into comprehension.

He could not stop here.

Jun-Knight Ayah had gone to kill her target and succeeded.

Galaph was kept as a trump card for future contingencies.

Enkrid would be captured and killed.

That was the ultimate goal.

And that wasn’t even the end.

There was more to it.

The thought of throwing away a thousand soldiers just to kill one enemy soldier wasn’t meant to be the conclusion.

There were secondary objectives as well.

‘What a shame, what a shame.’

With this battle, Azpen could have at least regained access to Green Pearl.

Had the plan gone as expected, it could have been so.

The strategy was meant to capture the enemy’s elite forces, but now it had become useless.

What remained now was either stubbornness or lingering regret.

Abnaier couldn’t tell.

He gritted his teeth.

***

"Was it twisted?"

At Enkrid’s question, Ragna pulled up his sleeve, which had been hastily wrapped.

"It’s twisted."

So, he could just keep pushing through, could he?

Was that how it worked?

Even Audin had broken something, but he too said it was twisted, and Ragna, despite having a wound that looked nearly fatal, still spoke that way.

It wasn’t a proper treatment; it was an injury that should have rendered the arm unusable.

Naturally, Enkrid himself wasn’t in a good state either.

"My whole body’s twisted now."

Enkrid, looking at himself, spoke.

Ragna didn’t laugh.

Esther, who had been below, made a sound of disbelief, a sharp "krrr."

Enkrid tried to joke, but then turned around.

There was no trace of those they had been chasing.

Had they slipped away?

It seemed so.

There was no longer the ominous feeling that had been hanging over him, no more the sharp sense of foreboding that had pierced his body.

Now, what should he do?

Should he feel relieved?

Maybe it was time for that.

"Yaaaah!"

A cheer of some kind could be heard from far away.

It was a booming female voice.

Narrowing his eyes, Enkrid saw Dunbakel running toward him.

Dunbakel was covered in blood.

Her white fur was soaked with it, making her look like a crimson beast.

White and dark red mixed together in a mottled pattern.

‘Like a spotted cat.’

Enkrid had an idle thought.

She was charging toward him as if running at full speed.

Behind her, the movement of their allies could be seen.

Thanks to Kraiss, who had finally sent the army, they were in motion.

"Fiancée, is this how it’s going to be when I turn my eyes away?"

Behind Dunbakel came Shinar.

She lightly kicked the ground and jumped, moving at a surprisingly fast pace.

It was the fairy-like agility she was known for.

She approached and spoke, and only then did Enkrid realize.

‘Tomorrow.’

The day was drawing to a close.

The long, stretched-out sun cast long shadows beneath the hill.

The light that had shone on all things was fading beyond the western horizon.

The orange-tinted sunset spoke of a different day than yesterday.

Enkrid took in the light.

He had survived, fought hard, and was now ready for tomorrow.

"Let’s go back."

Enkrid spoke.

No one knew what was going on with him.

No one could know for sure.

However, the battalion soldiers had seen Enkrid fight.

They knew that at the front, he alone had cut through the enemy lines, swinging his sword like a madman.

For Enkrid, stuck in the curse of repeating today, it was an ancient event, but for them, it had only happened a day or two ago.

Waaah!

The cheer tore through the air.

It was a song of praise for the hero who had pierced through the middle of the enemy and returned alive.

"Pain!"

"Death!"

Even the trivial slogans came along.

Enkrid felt all of it as distant.

It seemed like the sounds were growing farther away.

Why was that? His body was starting to lean.

Then someone beside him supported him.

Uncharacteristically, Ragna placed her shoulder against his.

"Idiot."

Enkrid spoke to Ragna.

With the sunset behind them, the two injured men leaned at the same time.

Ragna wasn’t in any condition to walk either.

Making it this far was impressive.

"Growl."

Esther shook her head from below.

It seemed like she was calling them foolish.

"Come on."

Dunbakel stepped forward.

She, too, was exhausted.

There were so many skilled sword users on the enemy side.

It wasn’t a life-or-death escape, but she was definitely worn out.

Still, it wasn’t to the point where she would collapse from walking.

Dunbakel lifted Enkrid onto her back.

The soft fur of the beastkin supported Enkrid’s body.

"Wow, you're soft."

Enkrid muttered, his mind hazy.

It was soft.

"Did you take some medicine or something while fighting?"

Dunbakel grumbled.

Enkrid turned around again.

The enemy in the distance, beyond the hill, could not approach any further.

"I could carry you."

Shinar, who had followed closely, said something, but Dunbakel ignored her and kept moving forward.

Ragna, who had been staggering while trying to support herself, collapsed.

Several soldiers nearby took care of Ragna.

The fact that she had even been walking this far didn’t make sense.

There was scarcely any part of her that wasn’t injured.

Waaah-?

The cheer quickly died down.

They weren’t chasing the enemy, but when they saw those returning in one piece, it seemed miraculous.

The quick-witted soldiers immediately sprang into action.

"Clear the way!"

"Inside!"

"Medic!"

The soldiers each did their part.

The commander stepped forward and directed the movement.

Enkrid and Ragna walked into the ranks.

Esther, trailing behind, noticed Enkrid’s condition and silently shook her head.

It looked like he had crossed more than a few lines between life and death.

From outward appearances, it seemed that Ragna was more injured, but in reality, Enkrid was in worse shape.

There were fractures and dislocations in several parts of his body.

That meant he had pushed himself to his limits.

But that didn’t mean Ragna was fine.

Esther didn’t care about Ragna, though.

With the sun setting, treatment was available within the camp, and Garrett, who had a bright-eyed expression, helped with the care.

Though technically, it was care, the real purpose was something else.

"Your mouth’s fine."

"You must have some interesting stories to tell."

They wanted to hear his tales.

Shinar, who had been listening beside them, held onto his years and spoke.

"I think [N O V E L I G H T] we need to learn how to respect the wounded who led us to victory."

It seemed like she was about to smack him.

Garrett, quick to catch on, responded.

"Nuat, I messed up, didn’t I?"

Nuat, always the one to watch his back, immediately answered.

"Yes, and if it goes on like this, my superior might change."

"Why would it change?"

"If he dies, it will."

"Let’s go."

Was she dragging him around for a joke?

Enkrid, wrapped in bandages, watched the two jokers.

"Tell me next time."

Garrett left, saying that.

"Focus on your treatment."

Shinar stood beside him, seemingly deep in thought.

"Are you not going?"

"I’m tired."

"Go ahead."

"Let me just watch you sleep."

Fairy humor still hadn’t become familiar to him.

Enkrid slowly let go of his consciousness.

Returning with cheers, honestly, his memory of it was spotty.

He had pushed his body hard.

He entered the medical tent, ate a little, applied ointment and herbs, and then lay down.

It felt like heat was rising all over his body.

If strength of body was a measure of pride, he would be second to none.

Enkrid fell asleep.

With his eyes closed, he saw a dark river.

It was the ferryman.

"The first is worry, the second is ignorance, and the third is despair."

Enkrid couldn’t understand what it meant.

Today, the ferryman seemed heavier than usual, and Enkrid, exhausted, didn’t even move his lips in his dreams.