A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 248: The Wild Stallion of Blue Sweat

The centaur leader ran. This was no time to worry about injuries.

It had already escaped twice before—a rare feat for a monster.

To possess intelligence meant knowing when to flee in the face of danger.

And it did exactly that.

The monster’s mind flashed to the being that had driven it to flee the first time.

Deep within the labyrinth humans referred to as the demonic domain, countless bizarre creatures roamed.

Of course, the centaur leader didn’t comprehend the term demonic domain or its geographical implications.

It simply recalled the entity that had toyed with it.

Long arms—arms that tore apart anything they touched.

Hands that shredded and gnawed, not even for sustenance, but for sheer enjoyment.

Thud! Snap!

The leader forced its way through branches that scraped its shoulders, shattering them with brute strength.

Black blood dripped steadily from its right foreleg.

The pain sharpened its focus.

The memories returned.

It had escaped those tearing hands, fled the edge of the boundary, and fought.

But it had been defeated, hunted down.

In the end, it had been driven to this place by humans as well.

One singular mantra echoed within the monster’s mind.

Survival is strength.

And to survive, what must it do?

Instinct spurred the monster forward.

“Subjugate the wild horse herd on the plains and create a larger group!”

If the monster had ambition, it was now.

More precisely, as it encountered humans, it began to learn something.

Its intelligence allowed for such growth.

It had learned to hide and grow its strength.

This time, it had also learned how to assess its enemies.

From the perspective of a human, letting such a creature escape would be a grave mistake.

No—an unmistakable threat.

If the leader survived this time, it would dominate the wild horses of the grasslands and subjugate them all.

After that, it would gather more monsters and beasts.

***

“If we let it go, it’ll be a serious pain later.”

The instinct was clear. It wasn’t just intuition; even reason confirmed it.

Monsters that survived long enough turned into something far worse—schemers.

And what exactly was a schemer?

A creature that became cunning and treacherous.

If deceit and slyness were added to a monster’s natural brutality...

“Yeah, that would be a massive headache.”

The situation could very well turn into the Dunbakel Funeral Battle—or something worse.

Enkrid didn’t feel personal guilt over Dunbakel’s death.

But from the moment he accepted her into his command until her last breath, she had been his responsibility.

If he hadn’t taken her in, it would be a different story. But he had.

And once someone was under his command, taking responsibility for them was the right thing to do.

On the battlefield, a soldier’s death was their own to bear, but what came after fell squarely on the commander’s shoulders.

Especially when Dunbakel had given her life to save others.

“Why did she do it?”

If she were alive, it was the first question he’d throw at her.

He pushed the fleeting thought aside and focused on running.

The forest came alive with obstacles—a flurry of fast-approaching leaves, tree roots jutting out of the ground like hidden snares.

All designed to slow his pursuit.

And the same went for the centaur monster he was chasing.

These impediments prevented him from catching it in an instant, but he hadn’t lost it, either.

Enkrid exhaled sharply, then inhaled deeply as he planted a foot on a raised root. With a quick slash, his dagger cut through an obstructing branch.

Ping!

The brittle branch snapped, ricocheting off his shoulder.

A sharp twig grazed his face, leaving a bead of blood on his cheek that flew backward, carried away by his furious sprint.

The forest was a minefield of barriers, but the centaur’s thick hide and powerful body allowed it to smash through effortlessly.

The leader monster charged ahead, ignoring minor impediments.

Enkrid had discarded his helmet long ago, throwing it directly at the monster’s back. The helmet had hit, but it hadn’t even flinched.

The centaur was fully committed to its escape.

Granted, throwing while running had dulled the impact.

“Should I train for throwing while sprinting?”

A problem for later.

For now, Enkrid wanted nothing more than to end this.

The weight of responsibility for Dunbakel, the looming danger this creature posed—it all needed to be resolved here.

At this pace, the monster would soon leave the forest and reach the open plains.

And once it hit the grasslands, famed for their abundance of wild horses, it would undoubtedly escape.

“Not happening.”

He refused to let it get away.

In that singular moment of focus, he activated his pinpoint concentration. His heightened senses flared to life, sharpening every detail in his surroundings.

The interplay of intuition and intent synchronized perfectly.

“I won’t lose it.”

As that thought cemented itself in his mind, something caught his eye—twenty steps ahead on the right.

A partially broken tree, its twisted grain exposed by the splintered break.

His senses surged violently, pointing the way forward.

The Will he had awakened through countless rejections stirred slightly.

Enkrid’s body moved instinctively along the path laid before him.

With a sudden burst, he kicked off the tree to his right and soared into the air. His dagger pierced the thick branch above, anchoring him.

Momentum propelled his body forward.

Releasing the dagger, he leapt like a monkey to the next branch, swinging himself further ahead.

He vaulted twice through the air before diving downward, hurling his sword as he fell.

It wasn’t just an impressive maneuver—it was acrobatics honed to perfection.

Years of grueling training, bordering on torture, had granted him mastery over his body.

His explosive strength, heightened by the Heart of Might, combined with his physical control, sensory acuity, and intuitive foresight.

All of it coalesced into this moment.

From an observer’s perspective, it would have seemed like he had leapt into the air, somersaulted twice, and shot forth like a beam of light.

The centaur leader had just burst out of the forest.

It felt a flicker of triumph.

“I’ve escaped!”

But as it stepped into the open plains, a sword embedded itself in its skull.

Enkrid’s thrown blade pierced straight through its head.

And in that very moment, something barreled into the creature’s side with a loud thud.

A black blur crashed into its body.

The intense focus had left Enkrid dizzy, a sharp buzzing in his head.

It wasn’t just concentration—Will had activated, though he was unaware of it.

Regardless, he twisted mid-air, landing in a controlled roll and using the momentum to spring upright.

Kneeling on one leg, Enkrid stared at the centaur leader.

The creature, with a sword lodged in its skull, toppled sideways. Its body trembled violently, black blood pooling on the dirt.

Had it already died?

Enkrid’s gaze shifted to the figure that had struck the centaur.

Whinny!

A wild stallion, exhaling plumes of blue mist, stood before him.

The mist, rising from its entire body, momentarily gave the appearance of wings before dissipating.

Enkrid, drenched in sweat, mirrored the creature’s state. His evaporating sweat turned to vapor, cloaking him in a similar haze.

For a moment, beast and man stared at each other in silence.

The centaur’s body continued its spasms, its black blood soaking into the earth. But the standoff between the stallion and Enkrid didn’t last long.

“You caught it? Oh.”

From behind, Rem’s voice broke the quiet, laced with mild awe.

And Rem wasn’t alone.

“Brother, you’ve done well. Impressive.”

Audin’s rare words of praise followed.

Others approached as well. Someone snapped branches underfoot in the distance, and Jaxon emerged silently from the shadows.

The sound of snapping branches behind them signaled Teresa’s late arrival.

The giant’s pace was naturally slow, and even a half-giant would be no exception.

“Is Ragna with you by any chance?” Enkrid asked, almost as an afterthought.

“Oh, that bastard? He came in with us but bolted off on his own the moment he spotted a ‘shortcut,’” Rem grumbled.

Ah, Ragna.

Enkrid shook his head internally. That man, a veritable war god with a blade, had likely gotten himself lost again.

“Is it a monster? Hm?” Audin asked, his tone carrying a trace of curiosity. Perhaps his divine nature made him more sensitive to the presence of demonic energy.

Rem seemed to pick up on something as well and added, “That’s one hell of a beast.”

Enkrid didn’t respond, his eyes never straying from the wild horse before him—the creature exhaling faint blue mist as it glared at him.

The horse’s body was black as pitch, yet the sweat that gleamed on its hide shimmered faintly blue. It was an unusual sight, giving the vapor around it a bluish hue.

But that wasn’t the only remarkable feature.

Its eyes were different colors—one blue, the other red.

Heterochromia wasn’t rare, but this particular mismatch was unsettling. Especially since the red eye bore an eerie resemblance to that of a monster.

Enkrid glanced at the trembling corpse of the colony leader sprawled on the ground.

“How do monsters create beasts?”

Kraiss had once shared his vast, eclectic knowledge.

“Knowledge,” Kraiss had said with his characteristic smugness, “is a weapon that gives men an irresistible charm.”

Yes, a ridiculous but strangely fitting reason.

What Kraiss had explained was simple:

“They spill their blood and let the animals consume it. The result? The animal’s brain succumbs to demonic energy. For creatures like colony leaders, whose blood carries potent magic, the effect must be even more pronounced. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to command hordes of beasts.”

The colony leader had used this method to create its pack of monster horses. The same principle applied to how it had once led a pack of gnolls.

That was how herbivores became monstrous beasts en masse.

“Still, the number of monster horses wasn’t that large.”

Could it be that the wild horses in this area were few? Unlikely. The very existence of this exceptional creature before him disproved that theory.

“This one’s... incomplete,” Rem observed.

Enkrid saw it too.

The mismatched eyes, the faint mist, the sheer force it had unleashed when it rammed the colony leader—it all pointed to something.

The horse snorted, exhaling mist again as it kept a wary eye on Enkrid.

Its gaze spoke volumes.

“I will endure. I will prevail. I will not succumb to this foul blood.”

It exuded defiance, pride, and a powerful will.

Rem had felt it too, hence his earlier comment.

What does it mean to endure?

Though not much time had passed, Enkrid felt an inexplicable familiarity with the horse.

“Why?”

He asked himself, and the answer came swiftly.

Enkrid saw himself in this creature.

The unchanging truth was simple: animals tainted by monster blood became beasts.

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Yet here stood one that defied that truth.

“A curious thing, isn’t it, brother?” Audin murmured, his tone carrying a rare note of wonder.

Enkrid stared at the horse, locking eyes with its mismatched gaze. It was brimming with murderous intent, and something akin to an aura flickered around it. Its half-grown fangs, unbefitting a horse, glinted ominously.

Enkrid’s mind wandered to the past.

“A knight? Hah!”

Someone had mocked him.

“Stop spouting nonsense and wake up to reality.”

Another had scolded him.

“Give it up. I’m saying this for your sake.”

A voice had once pleaded with concern.

All of them had resigned themselves to unchangeable truths.

Enkrid reached out toward the horse.

Even if he hadn’t hurled his sword to slay the monster, the horse would have ended it with its own charge.

In the end, they had both claimed the victory.

“Were you aiming for it too?” Enkrid asked.

The horse’s intelligence was undeniable. He stepped closer.

The fact that it resisted the taint of the colony leader’s blood meant it had defied an immutable truth.

The horse bared its fangs and snorted, another plume of mist rising as if to warn him. It looked ready to bite his hand clean off if he made the wrong move.

But as it prepared to lunge, it paused. Its head shook, and its breath puffed out again. Its eyes flickered—wary, hostile, then hesitant, cycling through emotions.

Enkrid kept walking. The horse retreated a step but didn’t flee.

Everyone watched in silence, save for the sound of Teresa’s labored breathing as she caught up.

It felt like a meeting of two forces—something new and something extraordinary.

Enkrid’s hand finally reached the black stallion’s head, resting on its dark mane.

Was its bluish sweat due to the monster’s blood? Or was it natural?

It was impossible to know.

Half-monster, half-wild—this creature, carrying both traits, didn’t reject Enkrid’s touch.

And that was all there was to it.