Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 487 - It Was no Big Deal

Chapter 487 - It Was no Big Deal

Enkried immediately turned his body toward the black warrior.

Though the giant horde seemed to writhe and prepare for awakening, it felt manageable.

"It should be fine."

Rem was there, Dunbakel was there, and above all, Ayul and her people fought skillfully.

This was where it began—his instincts told him so.

"He's coming!"

One of the cannibals shouted at the sight of Enkried, his voice filled with fear.

And why wouldn't it be?

The one who had led them until now lay lifeless, his head severed from his neck.

Enkried caught a glimpse of the cannibal's blackened teeth but let it slide.

The situation, the battlefield—it all seeped into his mind, making the priorities clear.

He organized the sensory input, a skill honed during his battles with Aspen.

Beyond strategies and tactics, he instinctively understood what needed to be done.

As Enkried charged, fear grew in the eyes of the cannibal horde.

Pupils trembled, and some hands shook uncontrollably.

"How can we survive against such a monster?"

In truth, they had no need to ponder this.

Once dead, such worries would become irrelevant.

Though there were a few scratches on the protective armor of Luagarne, there were no severe wounds. A jagged piece of metal stuck out from her abdomen, the remnant of a cannibal's spear that had broken mid-flight.

On the other hand, the black warrior on the opposing side had lost an arm, its stump burnt and twisted—likely the work of a flame whip.

The battle seemed evenly matched, but the black warrior had the cannibals on his side, while Luagarne had the Westerners.

Was it precarious? It had been.

Not anymore.

A faint shadow appeared behind the black warrior.

Of course, it was Enkried. Moving with blinding speed, he swung his sword.

The silver blade severed the dead warrior's neck cleanly.

Spurt.

Though the soot scattered, the neck reattached almost instantly.

It was a body impervious to ordinary attacks unless imbued with magic.

But that was no issue; Enkried wielded Aker, a magic sword capable of wounding even the black warrior.

Still, it wasn't a sword strong enough to deliver a fatal blow in one strike.

And lately, he felt the sword's energy waning slightly, though it was still functional.

Even after his slashes lightened the warrior's dark form, it remained undying.

"It doesn't die."

Was there no point in decapitating it?

What now?

Perhaps repeated attacks to dissipate the darkness?

His thoughts were brief, and his actions swift.

Enkried swung Aker like a branch, slashing rapidly and repeatedly.

The blade, moving at incredible speed, cleaved through the black warrior's body again and again.

The black warrior retaliated with a spear, but it was futile.

Enkried shifted his position, dodging the spear and delivering three more cuts.

After a total of nineteen slashes, the black, shadowy warrior began to dissipate.

Ordinarily, such an enemy required magical tools or ritualistic handling.

That's why Geonnara had been preparing to summon her wolf again, even at great cost.

But there was no need for that now.

Seeing the summoned foe crumble under Enkried's swift strikes, Geonnara reflected:

"Do I really need to spar him?"

The shadowy figure dissolved like smoke from a cigarette, scattering into the air.

Sunlight filtered through as the black smoke disappeared, and the formidable enemy that had endangered Luagarne vanished without much resistance. The disparity in strength was undeniable.

"Run!"

"The sand ghost!"

The cannibal horde scattered in all directions. They chanted incantations and fled on foot.

Luagarne shouted and began chasing them down.

"Not a single one will escape!"

Enkried let them go without pursuit.

The fleeing cannibals wielded odd charms and weapons, but they seemed no match for Luagarne.

One cannibal threw a charm, causing sand to rise and form into humanoid shapes. However, Luagarne's flame whip wrapped around them, igniting them into blackened ashes.

Luagarne wasn't the only one taking action.

Over five Western warriors used spears or slings to intercept the fleeing enemies.

Geonnara hurled a hand axe with incredible force.

Whoosh!

The spinning axe struck a fleeing cannibal in the back, making a dull sound as he collapsed forward.

Immediately, his head was crushed under the foot of the Frog.

Crunch.

The sound of a skull breaking was followed by his eyes popping out and rolling on the ground—death.

Luagarne continued chasing others.

Though cannibal magic caused some unpredictability, Enkried blocked further magical efforts with ease.

He couldn't fully grasp the nature of the intervention, but it simply felt right.

The threat was gone.

The remaining enemies were too weak to pose any danger, fleeing as fast as they could.

"Enki, it's not over."

Geonnara called out to Enkried, who nodded and turned away.

The battle wouldn't end until the enemy's last resistance was quelled.

"Do you want to die twice? Fine, then die."

At that moment, Rem's shout echoed.

It didn't matter that the defeated enemies resurrected or that over a dozen threatening giants remained.

Enkried watched as Rem fought fiercely.

With his left-hand axe, he deflected a giant's club, while his right-hand axe slashed its wrist.

The powerful blow sent the giant's hand flying.

Next, he aimed for the neck.

Stepping onto the giant's foot, he launched herself upward, his axe cutting through the giant's throat.

Slash.

A new mouth appeared on its neck, gushing blood.

Rem's arm guard was soaked red. Blood splattered everywhere, and beside him stood Ayul.

"Kill them all!"

She swung her axe with a loud cry, her movements demonstrating techniques likely taught by the twins.

Her entire body emitted a faint blue aura, which enhanced her speed and precision.

The combination of her powerful physique and the heavy axe created devastating strikes.

One of her swings cracked a giant's shinbone, causing black blood to ooze from the wound. The massive creature couldn't support its weight and fell with a thud.

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Another giant swung its fist, only for Ayul to catch it single-handedly.

Thud!

Instead of deflecting, she held it firmly—an immense display of strength.

"The spirit of the bear is with me," Ayul murmured, deflecting the giant's fist and delivering a massive blow with her oversized battle axe.

Crunch.

Bones shattered, and black blood sprayed as Ayul smiled faintly—a smile of joy and exhilaration.

The female Rem was undeniably formidable.

The couple fought like a well-coordinated pair, while Dunbakel also wreaked havoc nearby.

"Why do they keep coming back to life?"

Though faced with persistent foes, she employed hit-and-run tactics, buying time for the Westerners to throw spears.

Even Dunbakel seemed more than capable of holding her own, despite the number of giants.

Then, unexpectedly, something else happened.

Thwip, thwip, thwip.

A group of smaller Westerners fired darts and swung grappling hooks, blinding the giants and causing blood to pour from their eyes and noses.

Though not enough to kill instantly, it significantly weakened their combat abilities.

The poison was likely the work of the small tribe summoned by Rem.

Recognizing them as allies, Enkried joined the fray with measured movements.

A giant suddenly swung its arms and legs like a windmill as it approached. Encrid parried the blows from its club and feet with his sword, Aker, and then thrust upwards, piercing the giant's head.

As he pulled out the blade with a wet squelch, streams of blood sprayed out.

The giant twitched on the ground for a moment but did not rise again.

"Doesn't look like it'll come back to life," he muttered.

Though many Westerners had been terrified by the recent resurgence of awakened giants, they had grown accustomed to such horrors.

They no longer panicked but remained steadfast.

Facing the giant directly, Encrid quickly realized it was weaker compared to the two he had fought previously. Normally, a necromancer would summon spectral armor and bone weapons to fully empower these deathly giant warriors, but the necromancer had already been slain.

This left the giants as incomplete versions of their intended might.

The chief, observing the battle, was overcome with tears. He had feared something might go wrong mid-fight but was relieved it hadn't.

The warriors, led by the chief, had marched out with resolve, ready to die for their homeland, their freedom, and their survival.

But to their astonishment, no one had perished.

Even the final, desperate curse of the fallen necromancer had been destroyed by Encrid, Rem, and the blade of the beastwoman warrior.

Poison from their shamans had immobilized the giants' feet. From a distance, tribal villagers stopped throwing spears—the giants were all dead. With no more foes to fight, the small tribes that had joined the battle quickly retreated, vanishing as silently as they had arrived. They considered even conversing with others a potential breach of their traditions. The Westerners respected their culture and let them go without question.

The battle had begun at dawn and ended well before noon. Yet, no one felt the anticlimax of an easy victory. Nor did anyone presume the outcome had been simple. They only felt the weight of survival—the recognition that they had eliminated a threat to their existence.

Basking in the gentle warmth of the Western sun, Encrid felt the wind blow cool against his skin. Purple blood flowed in rivulets like streams, its stench thick in the air.

Corpses lay scattered across the battlefield.

Yet, the Westerners, including their chief, seemed oblivious to these grisly details.

Their eyes were fixed on two figures in the distance—those who had led and concluded the battle.

Who were they?

One was the prodigal son who had returned; the other, the outsider he had brought with him.

While Encrid enjoyed the breeze with Aker hanging loosely in his hand, Rem approached him.

Anticipating what Rem might say, Encrid spoke first.

"You don't need to bow your head and thank me."

"What are you talking about?" Rem tilted his head, confused.

Fortunately, their conversation was out of earshot, sparing the spectators from having their awe shattered by mundane banter.

Only Ayul came close, observing Encrid with a mix of incredulity and curiosity.

Isn't this guy a little unhinged? she wondered.

Still, as their benefactor, she kept her thoughts to herself.

Saying otherwise might make her seem ungrateful—a fool undeserving of the salvation they had been granted.

"Well," Encrid continued, "if you're thankful, just do better from now on."

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound like you're hearing things. Maybe we really should bring you to a priest."

Rem's response was dry, but it carried a familiarity that Ayul could recognize.

It spoke volumes about how these two had been living, fighting, and joking together.

She couldn't help but feel a bittersweet warmth as she watched them.

This was the time her husband had spent apart from her.

Seeing Enkrid and Rem together, she could glimpse a version of Rem's life she had never known.

They had fought, they had won, and now they shared a frivolous joke.

"Let's have a drink," Rem said in his own way of expressing gratitude.

Encrid nodded nonchalantly. "Sure."

To him, it was no big deal.

Compared to what Rem had given him over time, this truly felt insignificant.

The battle was over.

The threat to the West had passed.

Yet, the story wasn't finished.

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