A Knight Who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 26

Chapter 26: CHAPTER 26
‘I should have dodged there.’

Encrid mulled over yesterday’s events that existed only for him.

‘No, dodging wasn’t the problem. I was too fixated on landing a single strike.’

Dodge what needs to be dodged, strike what needs to be struck.

Hadn’t he heard time and again how crucial split-second decisions were?

From countless swordsmanship instructors, and from Rem as well.

‘What’s the use of The Heart of the Beast if you can’t make the right choices? One wrong choice, and you’re dead.’

It felt as if Rem was standing next to him, snickering.

If that bastard Rem knew, he’d definitely say that.

Encrid mulled over the moment again and again.

‘Today, a slightly different route.’

He changed his path every day. It was a privilege of someone who repeated the same day.

‘We’re going to catch the enemy scouts beyond this grass field. How about it?’

As always, the scout squad leader was leading them all into ruin.

He had no intention of stopping him.

No, Encrid knew it was pointless to change the scouting route.

No matter which different route they took, it was the same.

‘The area is already full of ambushed troops.’

The enemy filled the tall grass field.

If he wanted to survive, the best option was to return to where he had woken up.

‘But that’s not possible.’

Doing so would be disobeying orders.

Disobeying orders could lead to summary execution in severe cases.

So should he desert and leave these nine behind?

Should he survive by doing that?

‘Is that why I learned the sword?’

Knight, general, hero.

Even now, he swung his sword, dreaming of such things.

But knowing they’d all be annihilated and just leaving them behind—was that the answer?

Was that really the best option?

‘No.’

Everyone has something they can’t compromise on.

Encrid knows he is neither a good person nor a saint.

But this was something he couldn’t compromise on.

Some would call it conviction.

Some would call it stubbornness.

And Encrid didn’t care what others thought.

‘It’s what I’ve decided.’

If he had lived by the standards set by others, he would have long since given up on everything and taken a leisurely position in a village vigilante group.

He discarded the option of fleeing.

The goal was to find a way to escape today beyond that.

He fought again. He shed blood and killed the enemy. This time, his sword broke while using it as a shield.

He was struck on the head by a spear shaft.

The world spun around.

Naturally, death followed.

Whether it was the spear blade piercing his chest or the blow to his head that caused his death, he wasn’t exactly sure.

The cycle repeated again.

He died and died again.

By repeatedly experiencing life-and-death battles, he digested what he had learned in practice.

He revisited what he already knew.

Throughout all that time, Encrid kept only two things in his mind.

One was how to fight better.

The other was how to escape this today.

Moving toward tomorrow.

Encrid knew that relentless effort was necessary for that moment.

Because he had survived two of today’s this way.

But this time, things were a bit different.

‘I can’t see a way.’

Everywhere he went was full of enemies.

Why they had so many troops ambushed in a humid, muddy land full of grasshoppers, locusts, and tall grass blocking their view, he couldn’t understand.

‘You damn bastards.’

Moreover, they are all properly trained soldiers.

They are not some ragtag mercenaries fighting for money.

They are not conscripts dragged out unwillingly.

They are all salaried soldiers.

And some even consider these soldiers to be elite troops.

On a large-scale battlefield, ‘elite’ might mean something different.

But in this kind of battlefield, professional soldiers like these are considered elite troops.

If soldiers who practice fighting, swinging their spears to fill their bellies, aren’t considered elite, then what soldiers can be called elite?

‘This is troublesome.’

In a surprise attack, he could kill three or four of them.

But more than that would be impossible.

Especially with a group of soldiers armed with crossbows behind him, fighting while fleeing was even more out of the question.

‘The strength to kill them all.’

Would it be possible if he repeated this today countless times?

To gain that kind of strength?

No, it’s not possible.

He knew because he had tried.

Why did he try to move on to tomorrow by surpassing the spearman the first time he repeated today?

‘There are limits to what you can learn within a stagnant time.’

Encrid knew himself well. To improve his skills and feel the joy of growth, he needed a good teacher and opportunity.

But that didn’t mean he was wasting the repeated ‘today’.

He trained his hearing, practiced swordsmanship, and reviewed his battles.

He repeated and repeated.

His growth was slow, but continuous.

“I’m confident in archery, but my nerves get the best of me, and my hands tremble in the chaos of battle.”

Enri said beside him. It was something he had heard a few times.

He claimed to have small nerves but was quite skilled with a bow.

“Can you hit an apple placed on a head from a hundred paces away?””

To lighten the mood, he made a joke.

“Hundred paces is too far, but within thirty paces, I can give it a try. If you put an apple on the scout squad leader’s head, I’ll take a shot at it.”

“Too bad, we don’t have an apple.”

“Indeed, that’s a shame.”

Enri knew how to enjoy a joke.

“But I’m quite confident within thirty paces. Maybe not hitting an apple on the head, but hitting the head itself.”

Enri added, his face quite serious.

“If you can hit heads with your arrows, you could probably take out ten of the enemy.”

Encrid said, glancing at Enri’s quiver.

The flat leather quiver on his waist held about ten arrows.

To keep it from shaking, leather straps connected the quiver to his thigh and waist, binding the ten arrows together with another strap.

When the strap was loosened later, it would be easy to draw the arrows.

True to his background as a plains hunter, Enri seemed proficient in handling his bow and arrows.

“Hey. What are you laughing about? We’re on a scouting mission. Seriously, tsk.”

The scout squad leader glared and clicked his tongue.

Of course, Encrid didn’t care.

In this repeated ‘today’, the squad leader’s interjections were a common occurrence.

‘It would be nice to start by taking a few out with arrows.’

The tough-looking soldier walking behind the squad leader signaled to Encrid with a glance.

It seemed to mean not to respond and to just stay quiet.

Same as before.

There was no need to make a fuss, so there was nothing to argue about.

‘Then it’ll be easier to launch a surprise attack from here.’

In Encrid’s mind, the virtual battle continued. The information gathered from the repeated ‘today’ allowed him to vividly visualize a plausible battle in his head.

In the end, he dies. In most cases, he will die.

Even if there is a significant skill gap, the difference in numbers is too great.

Unless their side had the advantage in armament.

‘Which they don’t.’

What would Rem have done?

There would be no hesitation. He would have gone in with two axes in hand and swung them fiercely.

Even with Rem’s skills, he wouldn’t be able to kill all hundred of them.

But he could kill enough and then escape.

He was that agile and had exceptional skills.

‘It’s funny that such a guy is just a soldier.’

Rem himself didn’t seem to have any complaints.

In some ways, it seemed like Encrid was the only one with ambitions in their troublesome squad.

It seemed like he was the only one who wanted to be more than just a squad leader.

What’s the point of thinking about a squad member who isn’t here?

Encrid changed his line of thought.

A small snake slithered quickly through the short grass.

The grass underfoot was growing taller.

It was a sign they were approaching the tall grass field.

‘I’m not Rem.’

He pictured the virtual battle in his head again. A thought struck him.

‘How skilled is the scout squad leader?’

Until now, he had been too preoccupied to properly assess.

He just recognized that the leader wasn’t bad.

The scout squad leader, the tough-looking soldier, and Enri.

And the rest of the scout squad.

His thoughts followed one after another, leading to a conclusion.

“I don’t need to protect them.”

“…What?”

Enri asked, responding to the muttered words that escaped his lips.

“Nothing.”

He had been stupid. Until now, Encrid had tried to get through this alone.

He fought with the idea of protecting everyone by himself, reacting passively when encountering the enemy.

Thus, he thought he had tried every possible means, but one remained.

A means to completely change the game.

Crack.

Encrid twisted his neck from side to side.

There was still some time before they reached the grass field.

Striding forward, Encrid grabbed the shoulder of the tough-looking soldier and pulled him back.

“Huh?”

The soldier reflexively tensed up.

“What’s this about?”

“You glared at me earlier, didn’t you?”

He knew. It wasn’t a glare but a look asking for understanding.

But when your face is your weapon, just looking can seem like glaring.

“No, hey, that’s not—”

“Why is your tongue so long?”

Wham!

Encrid swung his fist. The tough-looking soldier tilted his head back to dodge it.

“…Are you crazy?”

The scout squad leader asked in bewilderment from the front.

“Come on.”

Encrid ignored him and kicked at the soldier’s ankle. The tough-looking soldier dodged it too, frowning.

“You seemed like a perceptive guy.”

“Exactly, I could read your annoying look.”

Rem had once said that Encrid might be the best in the continent at getting under people’s skin with words.

“Come on, fight me, you ugly bastard.”

Indeed, just a few words had turned the seasoned soldier’s face red.

“Fine, you’re gonna get it now.”

Encrid fought him.

Instead of drawing his sword, he used his fists as blades and his feet as blunt weapons.

The exchange of blows was roughly even.

No, to be honest, he was slightly on the losing side.

‘He fights well.’

By the kingdom’s standards, he was at least at an intermediate level, possibly transitioning to advanced.

“You said you were a low-ranking soldier?”

The soldier, whose face looked like he’d fail at mating repeatedly, spat blood from his split lip end asked.

“That’s right. Low-ranking.”

“They say you get money and other stuff when you get promoted. Why aren’t you trying that?”

Encrid knew it too. He wasn’t at a low-ranking soldier’s level.

He hadn’t been low-ranking since he joined the army.

He just didn’t see the need to raise his rank.

He knew his skills and limits clearly.

There was no need to attach the label of a low-ranking soldier.

Of course, things are a bit different now.

If the opportunity arises, he will get promoted.

But it’s not his top priority.

The criteria that distinguish third-rate, second-rate, and first-rate mercenaries, or the grades of soldiers here—what’s the importance?

“You fight well.”

Encrid honestly admired him. Yes, he should at least be this good.

His skills were better than expected.

He’s the type to fight even better in actual combat.

If given the proper chance to fight, that is.

“What are you doing?”

The scout squad leader, watching the fight with a face turning red and blue, opened his mouth with a glare. He looked ready to pounce on Encrid at any moment.

Before he could, Encrid spoke first.

“It’s a sparring match. Just a good warm-up.”

His answer was not just brazen but confidently delivered, causing the scout squad leader to falter, words catching in his throat.

It was understandable that he was at a loss for words.

“Just leave it be. There’s no hard feelings.”

The tough-looking soldier intervened to calm the scout squad leader.

Encrid shrugged.

“Watch your mouth, troublesome squad leader. You might get in trouble because of that tongue of yours one day.”

“That’s for me to deal with.”

Encrid replied and turned back to his spot.

Next to him, Enri sidled up, eyeing the swollen area near his cheekbone.

“You said you were a low-ranking soldier?”

“That’s right.”

Was it really that surprising?

Several other scout squad members also glanced at Encrid.

“You fought too well for that.”

“I’ve trained hard.”

It wasn’t a lie.

He had put in relentless effort through the repeated ‘today’.

Despite the commotion, the scout squad leader stubbornly led them into the tall grass field.

There had to be something valuable hidden in there, if not a stash of gold then maybe a lover.

Snap! Crack.

Hearing the same sound, they realized the enemy was approaching again. A new ‘today’ was beginning. This was the start.

“Enemy.”

With his split lip, Encrid spoke and nudged Enri.

“There, shoot.”

He wanted to see Enri’s archery skills. Enri didn’t react immediately.

“What?”

It seemed like he froze at the mention of the enemy.

Afterward, he never really managed to shoot his bow properly. Maybe he did have a small liver, as he claimed, because as soon as the battle started, he was busy scrambling around.

Even so, seeing him shoot a few rapid shots, it was clear his form was solid.

‘This won’t do as long as I’m just a squad member.’

The others needed to respond to orders, but he hadn’t established that kind of relationship with them.

Encrid pondered his position.

‘For now, I’ll put this aside.’

In the end, he repeated similar events.

Struggling and dying.

Encrid repeated today a few more times.

During that time, he could assess the squad leader’s skills.

Not bad.

It was clear he had learned proper swordsmanship somewhere.

“I’ll accept your challenge anytime.”

After engaging in a few mock fights and letting the leader win a bit, the squad leader seemed quite pleased.

Encrid got familiar with the leader’s habits and patterns by sparring with him a few times.

‘He lacks real combat experience.’

That was likely why the tough-looking soldier stuck to him like a nanny.

So, what was the relationship between them?

When he casually asked.

“He’s the son of someone I respected a long time ago.”

The tough-looking soldier blurted out.

This guy was overflowing with loyalty.

His entire presence here was for this kid.

He really was a nanny.

“A noble?”

“Don’t you know that fallen nobles aren’t treated as nobles?”

The scout squad leader was a fallen noble.

“I see.”

They brushed off the rest of the conversation, and Encrid looked at the sun overhead.

The noonday sun.

The wind was moderately cool.

Neither hot nor cold.

All the scouts wore light armor.

It made sense if they needed to move quickly.

Simple equipment and light armor.

That was the basic setup. Encrid reviewed the equipment, skills, and everything they had.

He needed to understand everything else, too. Encrid took in everything he knew about the current situation.

The weather, the wind, the location, the situation, allies, and enemies.

If he could move all these elements actively, it would reveal a way through, like an arrow hitting its mark.

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Chapter 27: CHAPTER 27
The name of the scout squad leader was Andrew.

His full name was Andrew Gardner.

Once a baron, he is now the sole heir of a fallen family.

He had only one desire: to revive the Gardner family in his generation.

“Andrew, you are our hope.”

His mother’s last words as she lay dying from illness remained vividly in his mind.

She had saved money by working as a seamstress and a maid in other people’s houses.

And all that money was spent on Andrew.

From swordsmanship lessons to clothes and food.

While he didn’t have an affluent upbringing, he didn’t lack either.

His mother, overwhelmed by work, gradually fell ill and died.

Her one wish was the same.

“Continue our family line, and become a great person.”

He decided to honor that wish.

There was only one way Andrew could think of to revive his family.

After all, it was an age of war.

He would fight and fight again to prove his abilities.

He received timely help at a point when training and connections were crucial.

Before she died, his mother sought help from a man who was once like a brother to her husband.

“He has talent,” said the man who was his father’s sworn brother.

After that, Andrew underwent rigorous training and joined the army.

He started as a professional soldier and earned the position of squad leader at a young age.

‘I need achievements.’

That thought filled Andrew’s mind.

He was confident in his abilities.

His confidence came from killing three or four ordinary soldiers on the battlefield.

“You must be cautious in everything.”

His advisor and supporter constantly nagged him. It was almost unbearable.

But Andrew didn’t ignore those words.

‘Surviving is also important.’

One must stay alive to ensure the revival of the family.

That doesn’t mean he could abandon a challenging life.

What happens to those who give up on challenges?

His father, who had lost the family’s prestige, was a perfect example.

His father, who lacked talent since childhood, swung his sword every day, but his efforts were futile.

Eventually, his father couldn’t dream of reviving the family. He gave up quickly.

Spending the remaining assets became the entirety of his life.

He died, stabbed by a gambler he got into a fight with.

‘A life without a future is bleak.’

Thus, while dreaming of reviving his family, he also valued his own life.

Of course, there were always annoying matters.

One such annoyance was the troublemaker squad leader who caught Andrew’s eye.

Andrew was in his position due to his abilities.

He was working tirelessly for the great task of reviving his family.

But what about that guy?

He was a bottom-tier soldier who had luckily become a squad leader, a salary thief.

Was he worthy of being a professional soldier?

Andrew saw traces of his father in him.

‘He’ll just live collecting his salary and eventually die.’

He would only pretend to train by swinging his sword.

It was laughable that a mere soldier wore a sword belt and carried a sword under the pretense of training.

If he knew Encrid, he wouldn’t have thought that way, but Andrew didn’t know him.

And now, from the morning, that troublemaker squad leader was staring at him.

Their eyes met.

An unpleasant feeling flowed between their gazes. At the end of that feeling, Andrew’s brows furrowed.

‘His eyes are irritating.’

Just as he was about to speak, the troublemaker squad leader spoke first.

“Your eyes are unpleasant.”

“Hmm? Who are you talking to right now?”

Andrew’s brows furrowed sharply, his scowl reflecting his state of mind.

One of the soldiers who had accompanied him stepped forward first.

“What did you just say?”

The soldier had a scar on his forehead. Wasn’t he the one who used to wander around fight clubs?

Andrew had once told him,

“Follow me. I’ll give you a life better than that of a thug.”

Since then, he had become Andrew’s loyal follower.

His skills were still poor, and he hadn’t completely shed his thuggish habits, but he was decent in a fight.

That’s why Andrew had brought him along.

There were three such soldiers.

The three of them stood up and surrounded the troublemaker squad leader.

* * *

Encrid had repeated several ‘todays’ and come to a conclusion.

‘As a squad member, it’s not enough.’

They needed to follow his words faithfully and act on his commands. That was the minimum requirement.

So what should he do?

How does a knight earn people’s trust?

How do they stir excitement as soon as they step onto the battlefield?

It’s for a simple reason.

Skill.

It was possible because they had shown their abilities.

Then what was needed to make the ten, including himself, move as one?

What was needed to earn trust?

It was impossible to get close and build a bond in just one day.

The only thing left was violence based on coercion.

“That mouth seems to be a problem. Should I give you a pretty tattoo or something?”

The soldier with the scar on his forehead said, his eyes gleaming. He had the look of someone who had beaten up a few people.

This guy’s lines are always the same.

Encrid thought as he looked at the positions of the three.

For them, this was the first time, but for him, it was just another repetition of today.

The reason for the repetition? There was only one.

The more overwhelming the violence and coercion, the better.

For that, experience was necessary.

Aside from skill, he needed to know their reactions and patterns.

For that reason, the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique was excluded.

He had to subdue them with pure skill.

The first hurdle to overcoming today’s repetition was to subdue the three thug soldiers.

“Cat got your tongue?”

The thug-turned-soldier swaggered.

Encrid thought words were unnecessary.

So he acted accordingly.

He took a step forward without a word.

The opponent reacted, flinching and raising his fist, preparing to fight.

One of the three even placed his hand on the hilt of his short sword.

Encrid lifted his left foot first, and that step was very slow.

With bewildered eyes, they watched, unsure of what was happening, finding it too ambiguous to say anything.

Then Encrid’s right foot struck the ground swiftly.

By mixing slow and fast movements, the slow one appeared quicker.

It was a simple trick, a tactic to launch the first attack.

And it was quite, no, extremely useful.

“Ugh!”

The soldier with the scar on his forehead gasped, trying to throw a punch.

But Encrid was faster, kicking his opponent’s shin.

Thud!

As he kicked the shin sideways, the opponent’s stance faltered. Immediately, Encrid struck the temple of his off-balance opponent with the back of his hand guard.

It was a satisfying, powerful swing.

Thwack!

“Ugh!”

The opponent let out a short cry and staggered to the side, collapsing.

Encrid’s next movements were fluid and smooth.

As he turned sideways, a short sword aimed at his exposed side sliced through the air. Almost as if it was a rehearsed move, he grabbed and twisted the wrist of the soldier holding the short sword.

The key was to apply just enough force to avoid causing serious injury.

Crunch. Snap.

He twisted the wrist and struck near the jaw at an angle, causing the second soldier to faint and collapse.

He gently laid the collapsing soldier down on the ground.

As he stood up, he picked up the fallen short sword. Encrid, his breathing unchanged, asked,

“Want to continue?”

The last soldier who had stepped forward broke into a cold sweat.

It was the opponent who had drawn their weapon first.

He wouldn’t have any complaints if Encrid stabbed him right then.

“What’s your intention?”

The scout squad leader, who had been watching up to that point, stepped forward.

“I didn’t like you from the start. A rookie barely learning to walk.”

Encrid turned away from the frightened soldier towards the scout squad leader.

There was no need to get angry over trivial matters, so he usually let things slide without putting much meaning into what others said or did. That had been the case until now.

But if there was a need to get angry?

Then he would say everything he had to say.

“If I follow a guy like you, we might all get wiped out on even a simple scout mission, so let’s settle this with skill.”

Defiance was a serious offense.

However, the situation was delicate.

Encrid was originally a squad leader.

If the other had respected that, it might have been different.

But the scout squad leader had shown complete disregard and hostility.

No one could blame him for not putting up with it.

In fact, the higher-ups wouldn’t care which of the two led the scout squad.

Didn’t the platoon leader tell them to look after the young squad leader when he left?

Now was the time for that.

Not just to watch his back, but to step up and take charge.

“…Whoever wins the fight will take command of the squad?”

The scout squad leader frowned and asked.

“That works for me. I have no intention of being under someone weaker than myself.”

In fact, in the troublemaker squad, except for Krais, there were only monsters who fought better than Encrid.

But that was just an excuse.

It was best if the opponent got riled up and attacked first.

“Bring it on, you wet-behind-the-ears brat. Have you ever slept with a woman? Or is your manhood still underdeveloped?”

Andrew’s expression hardened.

He hadn’t had his first experience yet.

He had used that time to train his body.

He felt as if the scout squad leader was mocking all the time, effort, and everything he had done to get this far.

Thump.

The squad leader drew his short sword.

“You can draw your sword too. The length of the blade won’t determine skill.”

“Alright, then.”

The rough-looking soldier beside Andrew initially tried to intervene but then shook his head and sighed, stepping back.

He had worked as a mercenary for quite a long time and had seen such situations countless times.

There had been discord from the beginning. It might be better to resolve it now.

Letting emotions fester would be a bigger problem.

Men often cleared the air by fighting it out.

Moreover, he knew Andrew well. He had taught him swordsmanship.

In some ways, Andrew might seem like a brash young upstart.

But he knew how to handle a sword and had a straightforward nature.

Most importantly, he knew right from wrong.

‘It won’t be easy, though.’

If things went south, he would step in.

However, there was one thing.

Judging by the troublemaker squad leader’s stance and the position of his feet, he didn’t seem like an ordinary opponent.

His thick, hard calluses, which had formed from gripping a sword for so long, were evident on his palms.

They were not the marks of someone who had trained for just a day or two.

“Alright. I’ll do it barehanded.”

“This bastard?”

Andrew got excited. That was a flaw.

He easily showed his emotions.

The man thought to himself that this was something to point out later.

He decided to sit back and watch comfortably.

It didn’t seem like it would end quickly.

Both of them were not exceptionally skilled, but neither did they appear completely incompetent.

Nevertheless, he secretly hoped Andrew would win.

Being excited didn’t mean his basic skills would disappear.

He had talent.

The troublemaker squad leader gestured, beckoning Andrew to attack. Andrew charged forward.

And then.

Thud!

“…In one blow?”

What was this?

The rough-looking soldier’s eyes widened in surprise.

The moment Andrew charged, the troublemaker squad leader made a feint with his left hand.

Sensing this, Andrew swung his short sword.

But his opponent perfectly read the trajectory of the sword and struck the blade with the leather gauntlet on his left hand.

As a result, Andrew’s chest was momentarily exposed.

The troublemaker squad leader lunged into Andrew’s open chest. In that tight space, his body moved dynamically.

Whack!

He kicked off the ground, twisting his body inside and drove his elbow precisely into Andrew’s solar plexus.

That one blow was enough.

“Ugh.”

Andrew groaned. His legs trembled. His breath caught, and his limbs went weak.

That’s what happens when you get hit in a vital spot.

Andrew groaned again, bending his back like a shrimp.

If this had been a real fight, he would have been dead.

‘What a strength.’

He managed to deliver a blow through thick gambeson armor.

His skill was better than that of an average mercenary.

An inevitable question arose.

Why is he considered a bottom-tier soldier?