A Knight Who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 272

Chapter 272: CHAPTER 270
The Black Blade Bandits were large enough to be considered a small feudal state.

Therefore, it was not an exaggeration to say that they were one of the biggest blights and scourges afflicting Naurillia and the Kingdom.

They were truly dangerous entities.

Cheese, which had been in the mouth of one of the leaders, dribbled out.

This was because he had just heard something unbelievable.

He picked up a linen napkin, roughly wiped his mouth, and spoke.

“All the assassins are dead?”

He sent the Swift Blade, and swish.

He sent a mercenary unit, and they were utterly crushed.

Following that, the leader of the Black Blade Bandits unpacked his plans.

He had sent a unit composed of elite assassins.

And they failed.

Bang!

The leader slammed his fist on the table and shouted angrily.

“Are you trying to drag the reputation of the Black Blade through the mud?”

Fine, so you fight well, huh?

Then take this as well.

He gathered all the assassins in the branch. Every single elite assassin was sent.

No matter how outstanding a warrior or soldier might be, they can’t defend against a knife in the back.

Especially if it’s laced with poison.

Over fifteen assassins, skilled in both poison and blades, were sent.

If that’s the case, at least they should have inflicted serious injuries, if not killed the target, right?

“They’re unscathed? What about our men?”

“They’re all dead.”

“What about the watcher left behind for the report?”

“He’s dead too.”

If they hadn’t left a watcher to observe from afar for the cleanup, they wouldn’t have even gotten this much information.

“If I had gotten any closer, I would have been killed too.”

One of the subordinates, kneeling on one knee, spoke as sweat dripped down his face.

The sweat that fell onto the smooth stone floor stained it.

As the sweat dripped onto the light gray floor, it darkened.

The number of droplets staining the floor gradually increased.

He couldn’t see Jaxon. All he saw was the last moments of the watcher who had been closer to the group of assassins than he was.

“They were invisible.”

All he saw was his comrade struggling in the air, caught by something, before dying.

He ran away immediately.

Even though he hadn’t sensed any presence, as soon as he saw death, he fled.

Had he not done so, he would have died too.

His instincts told him so.

“What the hell kind of people are they?”

The leader’s tone was filled with exhaustion.

All the assassins he had spent his life gathering were dead.

They were there, and now they’re gone. Vanished. Dead, and never to be seen again.

“What the hell kind of bastards are they?”

His mouth hung open in disbelief, words failing to come out. Is this even possible? He asked the subordinate who had reported what he saw.

The subordinate hung his head. He had nothing to say either.

The so-called report amounted to nothing more than everyone being dead.

“What do we do now?”

Asked the attendant standing behind him.

“What do you mean, ‘what do we do?'”

The leader responded, mulling over the attendant’s question.

‘Damn it.’

The situation had taken a turn for the worse.

If things went wrong, he’d be devoured by someone rising up from below. There were plenty of people coveting his position.

Of course, it wasn’t like they could replace him immediately.

He had too many irons in the fire here.

‘Starting with the business.’

The reason his position was so solidified here was obvious.

It was because he spread the drugs. Thanks to his work, there were hardly any nobles in the Kingdom unaware of the drugs.

The Krona earned from selling those drugs directly funded the activities of the Black Blade Bandits.

“I’ll request help from the main branch. Until then, leave it alone.”

There was no one left to send. It made sense that they couldn’t touch it until reinforcements arrived from the main branch.

“In the meantime, we’ll focus on the ‘hole’ we’ve dug.”

Although he used some jargon, everyone in the room understood.

As long as the ‘hole’ remained intact, his foundation was secure. For now, he decided to forget about Encrid or whatever that cursed bastard was called.

Of course, he would soon be reminded of that grudge.

He had no intention of letting it go.

“Where is he now?”

“Probably swinging his sword around somewhere in the territory.”

The attendant was sharp and quick-witted. He spoke, his smooth, beardless face belonging to a strikingly handsome man.

His judgment was trustworthy.

They had previously conducted a detailed investigation into his daily life.

‘A sword-obsessed maniac.’

The guy was so obsessed with his sword that the term ‘sword-maniac’ came to mind.

Marcus had concealed the fact that Encrid and his group had left on a mission.

It wasn’t so much for any particular reason as it was a habit.

Marcus knew all too well that the more restricted information was, the more advantageous it became.

Above all, Encrid was the type who was easy to keep hidden.

He was the sort who could spend days holed up in the training grounds or his quarters without emerging.

Of course, eventually, it would become known that he was missing, but for about a week, no one would notice.

Because of this, the Black Blade leader had no idea that Encrid had already infiltrated his ‘hole’.

Sinar stood still in the room, focusing.

The faint sound from the adjacent room faded away.

She assessed the situation through the surrounding noises.

She checked for any watchful eyes.

There were none.

The moment she realized that, she lifted her right index finger and made a small circular motion in the air.

It was a hand signal known only to some in the Fairy Company.

“Is this the last one?”

Finn asked.

“It seems so.”

She replied.

The Fairy Company Commander reclined on the bed, stretching out her legs as she spoke.

Her soft and flexible muscles visibly extended.

She didn’t seem to be affected by the cold, wearing only a pair of leather pants, which appeared to give her a greater range of motion.

Otherwise, her demeanor was completely calm.

There was a small brazier in the inn room, but she had pushed it aside as soon as she entered, seeming to find it more of an inconvenience.

When asked why, she responded, “It might start a fire.”

“But are we okay just wasting time here like this?”

Finn asked again as she adjusted the front of her armor, which was layered over her leather outfit.

The armor had hardened leather inserted between layers of fabric, but the leather wasn’t of great quality, making it somewhat stiff, and the front kept coming undone.

Still, it was warm and sturdy.

Sinar replied without a hint of a smile, “This task is important too.”

“That’s true.”

Finn agreed, bringing a chair over to the window and leaning back partially against it.

She needed to keep an eye on the outside and oil her spear.

After all, they would be making their move under the cover of night.

Finn, who had previously served as a ranger, had participated in various operations.

She was skilled at this kind of work, though not as much as Jaxon.

“The seventh one.”

Finn murmured. That was the number of operations Sinar and a few select members of the Fairy Company had carried out so far.

* * *

Jaxon didn’t miss a single detail.

He was incredibly meticulous.

Watching Jaxon, Encrid felt as though he was on the verge of grasping something.

It was just out of reach, almost within his grasp. It could have been frustrating, but he wasn’t in a rush.

In fact, he found this situation rather fascinating.

He wondered when he had ever seen something like this and had a thought come to mind.

This was yet another sign of his growth.

As Encrid observed, Jaxon spoke.

With Krais’s soul no longer present, these were purely Jaxon’s own words.

“Small things come together to create something big. Just as small streams converge to form a river, a lake, and eventually flow into the sea.”

It might have sounded like mere talk, but Encrid felt that what had been just out of reach had now moved a step closer.

He could now make out a faint, indistinct shape.

“Mastery of swordsmanship and training are important, but a single small preparation can determine victory or defeat. What if that fight is one where your life is at stake?”

Encrid had always lacked natural physical talent.

Now that he had roughly filled that gap, his sharp mind was kicking into gear, making him repeatedly reconsider and reflect on the process, bringing ideas to the surface.

Especially concerning swordsmanship and combat.

In some ways, what Jaxon spoke of was similar to the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

Encrid could now categorize different swordsmanship styles.

For example, the Correct Sword Technique is about the correct way to swing a sword, building layer upon layer of skill.

In contrast, the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique is a different kind of approach.

‘It’s more akin to individual tactics.’

– Those who enter a fight must use their brains.

This was a phrase written when he first learned the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

The phrase itself had been helpful, but upon reflecting on it again now.

‘Perhaps I should say, it saved my life.’

Since learning those words, they had saved his life multiple times.

The thoughts continued to flow, a series of small realizations.

This wouldn’t suddenly advance his swordsmanship or lead to some drastic change.

Instinctively, he knew that, but the mix of accumulated experience and learned knowledge left something meaningful within him.

What if the opponent uses a longsword?

What if their waist is thick? Could they be hiding something underneath?

What if they wear a curved blade like the Swift Blade instead of a belt?

Could he infer their habits by observing the direction of their sword belt?

Before that, what about assuming a slightly more comfortable stance or securing a favorable position?

All of this was possible, and Encrid realized he could make such preparations too. It was within the realm of personal tactics.

And so, the vague concept became something tangible, within his grasp.

The thrill, the joy of growth, began to well up again. But he didn’t suddenly drool or start laughing.

‘I’m not Rem, after all.’

Encrid sometimes drooled when he was deeply focused, though he would never admit it.

“Let’s have dinner.”

Jaxon suggested. Encrid nodded.

The first floor of the inn also served as a dining room. When they sat down, Jaxon summoned Krais back into his body.

Sinar continued to silently play the role of a Fairy guardian.

In truth, there was no need to act. All she had to do was refrain from her usual jokes.

“A Fairy, huh? That’s quite a rare guest.”

The innkeeper remarked as he personally brought over the stew and roasted pork.

He spoke while glancing repeatedly at the Fairy Company Commander, clearly fascinated.

He seemed genuinely amazed.

When Sinar had entered the village, she had kept her face hidden under a robe, so she hadn’t revealed she was a Fairy until they were inside the inn.

Otherwise, she would have drawn everyone’s attention as they passed by.

Seeing the innkeeper’s reaction to the Fairy, Jaxon spoke with a subtle air of pride.

“Oh, please don’t bother her too much. She’s a guard my father assigned to me, and she has a bit of a sensitive temperament.”

With that one statement, Jaxon revealed that he was affiliated with a certain Merchant Guild and hinted at part of his own personality.

He was now playing the role of a spoiled merchant’s son.

His act of arrogance seemed so natural that he appeared as if he had been born and raised to be that annoying.

‘Seems like you’ve changed a bit from Krais.’

Just then, a servant who had been following the innkeeper suddenly tripped, dropping the cup he was carrying.

With a thud, the wooden cup fell, spilling wine all over the floor.

“You fool!”

The innkeeper approached angrily, and the servant repeatedly bowed his head in apology.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t much of a commotion.

Two men—one with a thick beard drinking wine and another with ordinary brown hair—glanced over but quickly returned to their business.

“Hey, take it easy on him, take it easy.”

Jaxon interjected with a remark. This was typical of Krais under the influence of the drug—always inserting himself into things with a comment.

Sinar stood still, staring blankly at one side of the table like a doll, without shifting her gaze.

Meanwhile, Finn, standing beside him, said something like, “Young master, you need to return to the trade route in two days.”

Of course, it was all part of the script.

Jaxon had prepared a simple play.

“This should buy us a day.”

It was a simple tactic. Since they would be leaving in two days, the enemy would likely leave them alone until then.

Presenting the Fairy was a warning not to try any cheap tricks or poison while she was around. Emphasizing her prickliness was for the same reason.

By making the enemy unsure of who they were dealing with and recognizing them as a tough opponent, they could buy themselves a day.

“This will do for me.”

Sinar played her role well, holding up some dried fruit to show she didn’t need a full meal.

“Not knowing the joy of food!”

Even then, Jaxon couldn’t resist a comment as he dipped a wooden spoon into the stew.

Encrid ate comfortably as well. Jaxon’s actions signaled that there was no poison.

Meanwhile, the inn’s servant brought another bottle of wine. The way he walked carefully this time made it clear he didn’t plan on dropping it again.

“You fool, be careful.”

The servant shot a quick glance at Encrid’s waist while he was being scolded by Jaxon, who didn’t give him a single coin for his trouble.

He was staring at the sword belt and the sword neatly hanging there.

Noticing this, Jaxon smiled and said,

“This man is my friend and has agreed to assist with this task. He’s not that rough, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind showing you his sword if you ask.”

Some swordsmen with nasty tempers might threaten to gouge out someone’s eyes with just a glance or draw their sword at the slightest provocation, just like this servant before them.

“No? It’s fine, really.”

The servant stammered.

“I’ll just show you the blade.”

Encrid replied calmly, drawing his sword halfway out.

Srrrng.

Encrid’s movements as he drew the sword were deliberately awkward.

He was demonstrating a small display of preparation.

He intentionally concealed his true skill. It wasn’t difficult for him.

All he had to do was recall the first time he ever drew a sword.

Having clawed his way up from the bottom, imitating a beginner was easier for Encrid than for anyone else.

He just had to do everything people are told not to do.

For example, gripping the scabbard too close with his left hand while drawing the sword was a classic mistake—a sure way to accidentally slice open your hand on the blade. It was something one should never do.

Everything else, however, he made look more convincing, because that was the essence of a swordsman with a flair for showmanship.

“Wow, the blade is blue.”

The servant remarked, eyes wide with amazement.

Encrid thought the guy was quite bold.

His walk, his mannerisms—it was clear he was a trained individual, yet here he was, dropping a cup and making a fuss over seeing a sword for the first time.

Regardless, Encrid played the role of the naive swordsman tagging along with the merchant’s son, and it seemed to have worked quite well.

That night, when everyone was asleep, the oiled hinges allowed the window to open silently.

“Well then.”

Jaxon whispered as he stepped out into the night.

In the adjacent room, Finn also began to move.

They met on the inn’s roof, exchanged only a brief glance, and then went their separate ways.

They had agreed to gather the information they needed individually and then regroup in the morning to piece it all together.

Jaxon moved across the rooftops, leaping over two houses, while Finn descended below.

Suddenly, Jaxon noticed a blade thrusting towards him from the side.

There had been no sound, no warning.

The blade hadn’t even registered in his senses.

The sharp blade pierced through his clothing.