A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 339

The presence of the Grey Ghouls in this region was less due to geography and more due to political circumstances.

It was no surprise that the Border Guard's standing army had never actively sought out and exterminated these monsters.

"Why would I?"

According to the previous lord of the Border Guard—before Marcus—hunting creatures like the Grey Ghouls was a waste of resources and manpower.

As a result, the standard approach was to cull them sparingly—just enough to keep trade routes clear, such as the areas near the Pen-Hanil River and a few other key paths.

Even now, Green Pearl’s roads had been tidied up, and a passage to Martai had been opened, but none of it was perfect.

"What, is someone throwing monsters over here or something?"

That was the complaint Marcus had upon taking office.

The term monster tossing referred to luring a horde of creatures into a neighboring territory to offload the problem onto them.

Of course, that wasn’t actually happening here.

But his frustration was understandable—monsters seemed to be pouring in endlessly, as if from a bottomless pouch.

When the upper frontier city had been established, a Gnoll colony had appeared nearby.

Even with cultists stirring up trouble, it was only possible because the numbers were manageable.

That meant this region was swarming with monsters.

And that, in turn, meant the Border Guard was hardly the most livable place.

Because of that, they had always fought defensively, avoiding proactive sweeps.

The reason for this defensive stance was obvious.

Losing troops would make it harder to counter threats from Azpen.

And the surrounding monster hordes weren’t exactly weak.

Within the Border Guard’s jurisdiction alone, there were at least three areas that merchants avoided at all costs.

Places known as low-grade demon realms.

When a Centaur colony took root in the Forest of Grace, they had moved to eliminate it quickly, fearing that the land might become permanently infested.

That was why Kraiss had been explaining all of this to Enkrid.

There were many reasons to take action here.

But Enkrid?

He wasn’t listening.

What did it matter?

Cut them down.

Kill them.

Erase them.

That was all.

And he wasn’t wrong.

***

The ugly ghoul was dead.

The explanation could be drawn out endlessly, but the summary was simple.

"I was first."

"My mace landed first, thank you."

Two inhuman warriors had clashed to see who would land the killing blow first.

Rem had brought two axes and a flanged mace, using all three in battle.

The most striking moment was when she used the mace.

She had first planted one axe at her feet, then reached behind her back to pull out the mace before bringing it down in a brutal arc.

Whoom—BOOM!

The resulting shockwave had been the very definition of violence.

The ghoul’s head wasn’t just smashed—it was erased, leaving no trace of an upper body.

A perfect fusion of raw strength and technique.

It was as if an enormous boulder had fallen from the sky.

A monstrous combination of muscle and weapon.

From the ghoul’s perspective, it had been annihilation.

Rem continued to tear through anything in her path—unique ghoul or not.

Her shock-break charge was overwhelming.

And Audin?

He wasn’t just standing idly by either.

"To the Lord’s embrace."

Though his entire body was a weapon in itself, he wielded two heavy clubs.

Metal-rimmed, once brown but now permanently dyed black with ghoul blood.

"Lord."

With a single invocation, he took two steps.

And within those two steps, his clubs smashed two ghoul skulls.

His precise, cleaving strikes displayed a remarkable balance of control and destruction.

Despite his size, there was a refined sharpness to his movements.

And yet, his attacks remained utterly savage.

Thus, brute force and overwhelming momentum carved a direct path to the ghoul leader.

It felt as if their roles had been reversed somehow, but Enkrid thought this suited both Rem and Audin just fine.

The ghoul leader had laid traps, using its intelligence.

They had been broken.

Smashed.

Crushed.

It had gathered its kin to swarm the invaders.

But what could it do?

All of them had been destroyed by sheer force.

And it wasn’t just the two of them fighting.

"I’m fighting too!"

Dunbakel was in a frenzy.

"This is blasphemous. Utterly blasphemous."

Shinar drew her daggers.

"Just sit back and watch. Wandering Teresa will handle this."

Teresa, too, was swinging her shield and sword, drenching the ground in ghoul blood.

There was no need for Enkrid to step in this time.

Not that he noticed.

He had been too lost in his own battle—swinging his sword, developing new techniques, refining True Sword Form.

And that had infected the others.

Watching Enkrid fight made them want to fight.

Made them burn to join in.

Why wouldn’t it?

Even someone who had never held a sword before might think, Is this fun?

And feel tempted to grab one.

It was like watching someone dance in joy.

How much fun must it be to fight like that?

Of course, it had affected them.

After witnessing knights firsthand, Enkrid’s rapid growth had spurred them all forward.

Their strength had already surpassed that of lower-ranking knights.

And they had pushed themselves beyond that.

Rem and Audin had realized the moment they saw true knights that there was no more room for playing in battle.

Shinar as well.

"Go deeper."

She immersed herself in the sword.

A completed technique wasn’t complete.

There was no end.

She had changed her mindset.

Now, she would walk the path of the sword.

Dunbakel and Teresa were no different.

Some of them grew stronger.

Some of them finally unleashed what they had been holding back.

And so, the so-called low-grade demon realm, a place the knightly order would have refused to clear, did not even last a full day.

Despite its vastness.

Kraiss had estimated that it would take at least two companies and ten days of casualties to clear this battlefield.

It had been wiped out in a single day.

Many monsters had fled, but they couldn’t be chased down one by one.

"Are we done?"

Rem asked, shaking blackened blood from her axe.

Enkrid shook his head.

"Since we’re already here, let’s finish the job."

That hadn’t been Kraiss’ plan.

"We should take them one at a time. It’s not urgent."

That was what he had said.

There were still two more nearby locations with low-grade demon realm levels of threat.

Kraiss had intended for them to return, resupply, and rest before tackling them one by one.

Enkrid changed the plan.

They were already here.

They might as well clear all of them in one go.

There was no reason to hesitate.

The battlefield was littered with ghoul corpses.

The surviving ghouls dared not approach.

They were too busy fleeing.

"Let’s go."

Enkrid led the way, and the others followed.

As they moved, Enkrid drifted from one companion to another, talking all the while.

"That technique—what was it?"

He asked Rem first.

"Which part?"

"The way you swung the mace. It was different from usual."

"You want to learn that too?"

She had caught on immediately.

And she was right.

Enkrid did.

He didn’t need to answer.

The answer was obvious.

Rem studied his blue eyes.

Clear.

Determined.

Was this greed?

Or just madness?

She chose the latter.

*"It’s about where you place the pivot.

Especially for blunt weapons—it changes the destructive force entirely.

I told you before, didn’t I? Every weapon has its own way of being wielded."*

Enkrid blinked in surprise.

Rem was... explaining?

Clearly?

"Are you possessed? Some ghost take over you?"

"What?"

"You actually explained it well."

"You little—!"

Rem swung a punch.

Enkrid caught and deflected it.

Neither slowed their pace.

And then, he turned to Audin.

"That cleaving strike—"

"Control."

Audin answered before the question had even fully formed.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"I'm more accustomed to using my fists, but just because I have a weapon in my hands doesn’t mean I lose the sense for it."

"You mix heavy techniques with speed, applying strength only at the moment of impact."

"You have to know how to adjust your grip strength, how to loosen and tense your muscles at will."

Enkrid narrowed his eyes.

"Balraf-style martial arts?"

"Just weapon technique."

That just—

Enkrid caught something in that single word.

Something Audin wasn’t saying.

But he didn’t press.

What did the name matter?

"How do you get the knack for it?"

"Repetition."

"Do it when we return."

That was all Enkrid needed to hear.

As long as he could learn.

After that, Enkrid asked Dunbakel about how beastmen use their bodies, but her explanation was even worse than Rem’s.

No, if today was anything to go by, Rem might as well be an academy instructor.

In reality, his explanation wasn’t exactly eloquent, but it was impactful.

Everything is relative, after all.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Rem asked as Enkrid turned back from listening to Dunbakel’s ridiculous explanation.

“Begone, evil spirit.”

It wasn’t Enkrid who said that.

It was Dunbakel.

She must have wanted to say something ever since seeing the two bicker earlier.

Beastmen are vulnerable to impulses.

Once they set their minds on doing something, they had to see it through to the end.

If Frokk was dedicated to a singular purpose, beastmen were slaves to their immediate desires.

Naturally, the results were often unfavorable.

This was no exception.

Dunbakel simply couldn’t hold back her desire to speak.

“Here, take this.

An axe.

Just brace your forehead and take it head-on.”

Rem had phrased the act of slamming an axe into one’s skull in the most polite way possible, prompting Enkrid to scrutinize him once more.

Just in case there was anything... strange about him.

“There is no such thing as an evil spirit, brother and sister.”

Audin, having witnessed the exchange, reassured them.

At the very least, Rem didn’t actually swing the axe.

“When we return, let’s spar relentlessly. Yes, let’s do that.”

Enkrid cut the conversation short before turning back to Dunbakel for further explanation.

“All you gotta do is run well and dig in properly.”

That was Dunbakel’s answer when asked about handling a scimitar.

Enkrid wasn’t flustered.

This much was fine.

After all, he was an excellent listener.

Several questions and answers followed.

The conclusion he arrived at:

‘A swordsmanship that utilizes the whole body while stepping with precision.’

A technique that harnesses the elasticity of the muscles for fluid motion.

In terms of Precision-Weight Combat, it begins with speed, resembling a light sword, but because it transfers weight into the strikes, it ultimately carries the weight of a heavy sword.

That was the structure of the technique.

“I don’t know its name. I learned it as a child and have just made it my own over time.”

Thanks to Rem taking charge of Dunbakel’s training, her swordsmanship had improved drastically.

Enkrid had seen some of it and listened closely.

It was worth learning.

But this wasn’t a skill that could be taught through words alone.

Enkrid resumed walking.

“Is there anything about me that tempts you?”

It was Teresa.

Enkrid had long been interested in her sword-and-shield technique.

Perhaps he should get himself a shield and learn it when they returned.

“If one seeks to learn, the path will appear.

I learned that from watching the captain.”

Teresa’s words.

She was quoting scripture, likely picked up from following Audin around.

“A shield is a tool for blocking, but depending on how you use it, it can become an excellent bludgeon.”

Teresa had a way with words.

Enkrid considered that a fortunate thing.

As they conversed and walked, Enkrid glanced at the map.

They were nearing their destination.

A swamp stretched before them.

“Insects?”

Dunbakel asked.

Enkrid nodded.

The pale green wetlands were a treasure trove of herbs.

A land where various plant species thrived alongside amphibians and reptiles.

“A fine land indeed.”

Shinar, who had been lamenting the forest, now gleamed with interest.

She dealt in poisons and medicines.

To someone like her, this swamp was invaluable.

That was why Kraiss had been so adamant about reclaiming it.

“We must reclaim the wetlands.

We cannot allow monsters to take them from us.

This land belongs to those born here and who call it ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) home!”

It was an impassioned speech—sickeningly so.

“So, it’s a natural herb-growing site?”

“Yes!”

Kraiss wasn’t even pretending to mask his enthusiasm.

“If we restore just that area, we could turn it into a trade hub—or even a production site for special goods.

Of course, we’d need to... persuade a few capable alchemists to join us.”

He said “persuade,” but in reality, he meant abduction.

Recruiting people was one of Kraiss’ specialties.

So was acquiring goods.

There was a reason he had the reputation of being the army’s walking general store.

And now, that prized land lay before them.

The problem?

Someone—or something—already claimed it.

“There sure are a lot of bugs.”

Rem muttered.

And those bugs were the ones in charge.

Monsters come in countless varieties.

These were insect-type monsters.

BZZZZZ!

The sound of beating wings pierced their ears.

Shinar’s hand rested on her sword.

Dozens of flies, each the size of a fingertip, swarmed toward them.

Bloodsucking flies.

With a flash, Shinar’s blade cut through the air, slicing both space and the insects.

Not too fast, not too slow.

A seamless series of graceful, uninterrupted strikes.

Even more delicate than when she had faced the ghouls.

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Her swordsmanship, likely a style of the Fairyfolk, displayed an extreme level of precision.

‘She could probably fillet a leaf.’

Enkrid thought.

And he wasn’t wrong.

Her technique was built upon the delicate practice of slicing leaves into paper-thin sheets.

Her blade flicked, curved, pierced, slashed, and deflected, all while cleanly carving through the insects’ bodies.

In no time, the swarming flies fell lifelessly to the ground.

Shinar turned back.

“If you’re not confident, you should retreat.

My fiancé is free to hide behind me.”

The emotionless beauty of the Fairyfolk spoke.

“Did you take something?”

Rem rubbed his ears at her absurd words.

“The Lord watches over us, and so even the lowliest creatures must be sent to Him.”

Audin responded with a prayer.

Dunbakel extended her claws and, rather than using her scimitar, simply stabbed the insects to death.

Bloodsucking flies were a nuisance.

A single bite, and they would drain blood ten times faster than an average leech.

That said, dealing with them wasn’t particularly difficult.

Even common merchants could swat or avoid them with enough bravery.

Wearing thick leather clothing several layers deep was enough to nullify them.

Of course, if one could simply skewer them on a sword or claw them to death, no amount of thick clothing was necessary.

Even Teresa, who seemed the least agile, wielded her shield with short, efficient motions to crush them.

Enkrid followed suit, slashing through the swarm while keeping close to Shinar.

Precision.

Tracking the insects’ flight paths as lines and cutting them at their intersections.

Sweeping strikes were the most efficient, so he did just that.

Then, he spoke to the Fairy beside him.

“That swordsmanship...”

“Shall I teach it to you as an engagement gift?”

“When is the engagement happening?”

He met her jest with another jest.

Shinar’s lips twitched.

Ever so slightly, they seemed to lift at the corners.

But only for a moment before returning to their usual expression.

“You are greedy.”

Whatever she said, his desire to learn remained unchanged.

He wasn’t asking for secret techniques or hidden knowledge.

The fundamentals would be enough.

‘To know what I lack.’

To understand how to improve.

Enkrid was a seeker.

He saw the path his ambition pointed to and wished to walk it.

Hadn’t he always learned, trained, and observed?

Even now, he was doing the same.

“There it is.”

Shinar suddenly shifted her gaze forward.

And before them stood the King of the Swamp.

A monster five times the size of a wasp, with six massive wings and razor-sharp mandibles.

A bloated abdomen armed with a venomous stinger and a gaping maw that split sideways.

Its name was Bel.

BZZZZZ!

Its wings roared.

And behind it, a horde of similar creatures swarmed toward them.

They moved as one.

More troublesome than ghouls.

BANG!

Yet one by one, they exploded into pulp.

The largest among them—the self-proclaimed king—was felled by a rock Rem threw.

“This time, I got it, right?”

Still locked in competition with Audin, he glanced back.

Audin smiled serenely.

Enkrid was sure that fool of a holy man would let Rem have this one.

‘He’ll say, As you wish.’

That was just how he was.

“I didn’t see it.”

Stumble.

Enkrid misstepped.

He didn’t fall, though.

Instead, he used the motion as a step forward.

A short horizontal swing of his sword crushed two insects midair.

“Lie better.”

“I’m not lying.

Brother.”

Audin was just as much a Mad Platoon lunatic as the rest of them.

Enkrid ignored them.

They wouldn’t change just because he told them to.

“Let’s go.”

At last, they reached the third low-tier demon realm—the final stop on their patrol route.