A Knight Who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 278

Chapter 278: CHAPTER 276 Chapter 278: CHAPTER 276 “Hey, I’m called…

Laban.” The middle-aged man spoke.

Encrid did not bother to gather his thoughts.

Since when did he ever move by thinking?

Following his heart’s desires and chasing dreams had led him to where he was now.

Encrid swung his sword.

From below, the blade shot up, reflecting the light of the torches.

A dull sound echoed heavily.

Yes, dull.

It wasn’t sharp.

Though once called Tutor, now the blade of this sharp and unyielding sword merely cut through the man’s arm.

It wasn’t fast, it was dull and slow.

Laban could feel and had to watch as his arm was severed.

Even though he could see it coming, he couldn’t avoid it.

All he could do was watch as one of his limbs disappeared, feeling a burning heat instead of the loss.

“Arrgh!” A terrible scream echoed throughout the wide cave.

What had been attached below the shoulder fell to the ground.

The arm, now independent of the human body, twitched and moved.

It emphasized its claim by spraying blood everywhere.

The one who lost the arm screamed as if to oppose the claim.

“Ah!

Ahh!” The movement, accompanied by the screams, scattered red blood all around.

Much of it splattered onto the armor and face of Encrid, who stood in front, but he did not flinch and simply watched indifferently.

Blood that had splattered on his cheek trickled down and fell to the ground.

As Encrid watched Laban, who was going mad from the pain of losing his arm, he casually spoke.

“Can you stop the bleeding, Esther?” “It’s not difficult.” The method of stopping the bleeding was a bit extreme.

Esther reached out, and flames erupted from her hand, cauterizing the wound.

“Aaaargh!

S-Stop!

Please, stop!” Encrid wondered how many times this mad middle-aged bastard had heard such desperate screams like his own, then decided not to think about it.

“Why, why, I-I only did as I was told!

I sold out for just a few gold coins!” Already having lost a significant amount of blood before the cauterization, his voice was now hoarse from screaming in pain.

Encrid raised his sword.

“The leg.” With an emotionless word, he cut off the leg.

With a thud, the severed leg flew to the side.

The leg, now independent from the human body, also ruthlessly emphasized its claim.

Under the countless torches illuminating the area, bright red blood once again dyed the surroundings.

Then, Esther cauterized the wound again with magical flames, and another feeble, pained scream echoed out.

“Aaaah!” Having only lost his limbs and been cauterized, Laban now shed tears of blood.

His teeth broke, mixing blood with saliva as it spilled out of his mouth.

He continuously let out a chilling scream.

“It seems he’s in pain.” “When burned with fire, it always turns out like this.” Encrid spoke, and Jaxon replied.

It wasn’t just a simple brand.

They were cutting off his limbs and burning the severed parts.

Jaxon might not be a master of torture, but he knew how to do it.

He understood the human body and knew where the pain would be most effective.

Jaxon was also well-versed in the more refined methods of torture, like pulling out nails and driving needles underneath.

For someone like Jaxon, it was surprising that the alchemist was still alive.

Their conversation was indifferent.

As if they were talking about a worthless object, like a stone lying on the road.

And then, unable to endure the pain, Laban, or whatever his name was, finally rolled his eyes back.

It looked like he would die soon.

Encrid approached and poked his forehead with the sword.

No matter how much pain one is in, the senses are always sensitive to new pain.

Especially when the sword, after poking, was slowly dragged down to maximize the pain.

“S-S-Stop.” Laban spoke in a hoarse voice.

Encrid asked, “Is there a way to bring back the person trapped inside?” Jaxon thought it was an astonishingly timed question.

If a person doesn’t open their mouth at that moment, they aren’t human.

Even a specially trained assassin would choose to end their own life before getting to this point, rather than trying to endure it.

Laban blinked countless times, trembling, but still rolled his eyes.

The fact that his mind was still functioning showed that his true value lay in his head.

Then came his answer.

“I-it…

it is p-possible.” Though his pronunciation was heavily slurred, it wasn’t difficult to understand.

As soon as Encrid heard those words, he split the alchemist’s head in two.

He swung his sword vertically, mercilessly cleaving the head.

With a sickening sound, the skull cracked open, and the brain, which would have been invaluable if he were alive, spilled out.

“Why?” Why ask and then kill?

Jaxon asked the question without realizing it.

“What’s the point in asking something you already know?” Hearing Encrid’s answer, Jaxon nodded.

He understood too.

The alchemist, Laban, was just spouting nonsense.

There was no way to restore someone who had been so utterly broken.

No such method existed.

Even the greatest cleric on the continent couldn’t do what couldn’t be done.

The so-called saints could reattach a freshly severed arm, but they couldn’t heal a shattered mind.

That was beyond the realm of the Divinity.

What could be done for a drugged woman who was gnawing on her own arm, or a boy who was already dead?

And what about something that was neither a ghoul nor a human?

If someone could undo such things, that person would rightly be called a God.

“It would have been valuable to take him alive.” Sinar asked, posing a reasonable question, and a reasonable answer came back.

“I didn’t like the look of him.” “I see, that’s understandable.” Sinar nodded in agreement, and Esther also nodded solemnly.

“He was a wretched one.” Those who walk the path of magic, mystery, and spells also tread the path of the inhuman.

But at the same time, they confront the real world.

They do not forget their own bodies and flesh, or the fact that they are human.

A true wizard remembers this.

Whether dealing with Fairies, Dwarves, or Dragons, because they have physical bodies, a wizard must not forget this either.

But that alchemist had strayed from this path.

It was evident in the things he had done, seen everywhere, and in the contents of his research notes.

They were truly putrid and vile.

Thus, he was a wretched one.

That’s what she meant.

Although his appearance was also wretched.

Esther noticed that Encrid seemed unaffected, as if he hadn’t lost anything like anger or resentment.

So, where did the motivation to move the sword come from?

Esther wondered, but she didn’t ask.

She would observe, analyze, and figure it out.

It’s a better way to learn than asking directly.

In truth, there was no complicated reason.

Encrid cut him down as if discarding something filthy.

It was like washing off dirt from his hands.

Punish the one who wielded the sword rather than the sword itself?

What kind of nonsense is that?

This wasn’t the work of a sword, it was the work of a man.

A man who could take charge of his own life.

He had both the ability and the will.

He just did what he wanted to do.

Not only the one who ordered it, but also the one who carried it out bears responsibility.

From Encrid’s perspective, those who committed such acts had no right to live.

What if the other party was the ruler of a nation?

What then?

It wouldn’t matter.

Even if he had to spend his life being chased, living as a fugitive, and treated like a golden pouch by bounty hunters, Encrid would still do it.

That was how he pursued his dreams, how he walked his path.

If anyone had known his true intentions, at the very least, Finn would have shaken her head.

Because it was nothing short of madness.

“There’s no shortage of scum like that on this continent!” She might have shouted this.

And that’s why.

Encrid wanted to cut down such people whenever he encountered them.

That’s why he took up the sword.

Because being a Knight isn’t just about fighting well.

Of course, Finn couldn’t read Encrid’s thoughts.

“He died well enough.

There was some foolish alchemist here, and now he’s dead.

What more can be done?” She spoke as if it was a matter of course.

It was her way of saying there was no need to take responsibility.

Encrid didn’t have much to say, and Jaxon silently respected his Commander’s choice.

In any case, he had already gained everything he needed.

And to be honest…

‘I might have killed him myself.’ He didn’t want to keep him alive.

It wasn’t a calculated decision, it was a feeling.

An emotion.

For the first time in a long while, it was an emotional response.

‘This isn’t the place to use it.’ He couldn’t let his worn-out and withered emotions spill out here.

His emotions were like a prepared blade, and those who would receive it were already determined.

“Company Commander’s troops have entered from outside.

Let’s bring them in to clean up.

And it might be better to leave some of those still alive locked up as they are.” Those who were drugged would undoubtedly cause chaos if they were let out.

“Let’s do that.” Sinar said, looking over a few sheets of paper in her hand.

After reading the common language written on the thin paper, she spoke.

“There are a few more villages like this one.

It seems like it’s going to be a long outing.

What do you think?” Though her question was concise, Encrid understood it clearly.

Jaxon would follow his orders, and Finn would follow Sinar’s.

“One of the villages was even raising beasts.” Encrid could tell from Sinar’s words that they had not been idle.

They simply had too many opponents to meticulously investigate each one.

Encrid’s mind naturally grasped the current situation.

‘If we don’t strike with an elite force, all the experiments and research materials will be lost and destroyed.’ ‘In that case, there will be nothing to gain after the battle.’ ‘And it will give those who need to be killed a chance to escape.’ They were facing an opponent that needed to be confronted with a full company.

Even in this village, there had been a witch capable of striking with lightning.

So, they needed to prepare for that as well.

The Black Blade Bandits were not a group to be taken lightly.

Encrid had slightly misunderstood the situation.

The Black Blade Bandits had prepared various types of hideouts.

Some were places where they sold slaves.

Others were where they tamed beasts with drugs.

This place was the most important, which is why there was a valuable wizard here.

Even for the Black Blade Bandits, wizards were not common.

His thoughts concluded.

There was nothing more to ponder.

“Let’s go.” Encrid responded.

If there were more of these places, they needed to be dealt with.

A small, elite group had gathered, those skilled in moving stealthily.

There was a wizard among them.

Even if Esther didn’t take the lead again, she would speak up if she sensed anything.

In many ways, it was a good opportunity.

Above all, if they didn’t eliminate everything now, the enemies would just go into hiding again.

“Aren’t you curious about who the leader of the Black Blade Bandits is?” Sinar asked, without adding any commentary.

“Do you know?” “I’ve learned that it’s one of the Kingdom’s nobles.” Jaxon was also listening to this conversation.

There was a deliberate intent.

The information they had leaked to certain parts of the Kingdom was finally showing results.

Jaxon, too, was very eager to see the leader of the Black Blade Bandits.

If he had a wife separated by war, he would want to see this person even more than her.

After entrusting the village cleanup to the allied troops that had entered, the group moved on.

“This is horrendous.” The Platoon leader who had entered shook his head after seeing the horrors inside the cave.

A few inexperienced soldiers couldn’t hold back their nausea and vomited.

The foul smell of vomit spread throughout the cave.

This was one of the reasons why Encrid had taken up the sword-to not let such things live.

And so, the group set off into the mountains.

Taking the rough path often leads to a shortcut.

Finn was an excellent guide in this regard.

* * * In one of the Black Blade’s villages, four village chiefs operated as one.

They were four men who had grown up together since childhood, and everyone called them the Bolun Brothers.

They had bald heads and fierce looks, typical of bandits.

They were skilled enough to raid from various places while managing the village.

After all, the Black Blade Bandits were essentially a group that also engaged in banditry.

In front of the four stood a man with black hair.

It was broad daylight.

“How did you get in here?” The eldest asked, rubbing his shaved head with his hand.

It was a cloudy day, but no snow was falling.

The second brother narrowed his eyes.

The village was oddly quiet.

There were dozens of members here.

How had this guy made it in without any noise?

The man silently adjusted his sword belt, placed his hand on the grip of his sword, and asked, “If you feel you’ve been wronged, now’s the time to say so.

I’m a bit busy.” Busy?

The third brother’s large eyes rolled around.

The fourth brother was quick-witted.

He already sensed danger and quietly slipped back, grabbing the end of a hidden net.

He was ready to throw it if things went south.

The net, with weights attached to its corners, was the fourth brother’s prized weapon.

In fact, the brothers had gained many advantages in fights using nets.

The third brother was a master at throwing darts.

He, too, was ready, his hand caressing the poisoned dart tips.

The second and eldest brothers were masters of hand-to-hand combat.

No more words were exchanged.

Encrid and the four brothers locked eyes in a tense standoff.

The tension between the five of them filled the air.

The spacious hall, which the bald brothers usually treated like a palace, now felt cramped.

‘What the hell is this guy?’ After a brief moment of thought, the fourth brother threw the net.

Encrid, standing calmly, saw the falling net and the two bald brothers as mere points.

He mentally connected those points with a line, moved his feet, and swung his sword along the line drawn by his body and hand.

As the sword moved, it struck the weights at the ends of the net, causing it to tangle in midair, and left long marks on the necks of the third and fourth brothers who had thrown it.

Of course, since these marks were made by a sword, blood gushed out from them.

Seeing the blood pouring out in torrents, the second brother’s eyes turned wild.

“You son of a bitch!” The fight wasn’t particularly fierce.

In other words, it ended in an instant.

As the thick blade of the approaching enemy swung down, Encrid deflected it with a Fluid Sword Technique.

Defense and attack happened simultaneously.

As he deflected the blow, the tip of his sword struck the end of the enemy’s forehead.

The blade pierced into the forehead.

“You bastard!” The eldest brother’s axe came flying at him.

It was a thick and heavy weapon, wielded by a man who prided himself on his great strength.

The eldest brother put all his might into the strike.

Encrid, having punctured a hole in the second brother’s forehead, pivoted on his left foot and countered the attack.

Boom!

A thunderous sound erupted.

And then…

“…Who are you?” The eldest brother, unable to withstand the force and with both arms broken, spoke in a defeated tone.

Encrid took a deep breath, releasing the Heart of Great Strength, and replied.

“What’s it to you?” You’re about to die anyway.

Encrid’s sword showed no mercy or forgiveness.

And that was the end of it.

There was no wizard, and Jaxon, having found some kind of artifact from who knows where, went on a rampage.

Jaxon silently killed the five bandits guarding the village center, allowing Encrid to enter.

However, even after thoroughly searching the village, nothing hidden was found.

What is this place?

Just a gathering point for troops?

As Encrid showed signs of doubt, Finn stepped forward.

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