A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 368: A Battle That Ends Upon Encounter
The captain of the South Gate Guard adjusted his hat—a feathered cap, his signature piece. As he tilted the brim a few times, he gazed at the bright full moon above.
"What is my duty?"
To protect the capital.
It wasn’t a newfound realization.
He had always known, but recent events had reignited his resolve.
A noble of royal blood, a bastard once branded a prodigal son—
The queen’s kin had now embraced his duty and responsibility.
Then, he too must fulfill his role.
And so, the captain reached a conclusion—he could no longer turn a blind eye to the so-called Moonlight Beast.
Thus, he acted. A squire had fallen victim, so he made his move, fully prepared.
"This way," the captain instructed his men.
"But, Captain, are we sure it’s coming out tonight?"
A scruffy soldier, unshaven and rough-looking, asked doubtfully.
"Of course."
There were those in the capital who had taken an interest in the Moonlight Beast—and the South Gate Guard Captain was one of them.
He had investigated, surveyed the area, and predicted the creature’s most likely hunting grounds.
In other words, he operated on the same thought process as Enkrid.
A full moon.
A location far from the noble district.
"Here."
If it didn’t show up, then they would simply start again.
They didn’t have the manpower to sweep the entire district.
He had only brought three of his most trusted men.
With himself and three subordinates, they could take down a single /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ werewolf.
He had no idea how it hid during the day and only appeared at night.
"Must be some weird magic at work."
A spell cast by some insane sorcerer, no doubt.
The captain scanned his surroundings under the moonlight.
Would the beast appear?
His question was answered.
Thud!
A sickening splatter, followed by the overwhelming stench of blood.
It came from deeper in the alley.
The captain sprinted forward.
"Captain?"
"Follow me!"
He shouted, dashing into the alley.
And there, drenched in blood, was a monster.
Ears pointed sharply upward.
Its body was covered not in fur, but in feathers as hard as steel.
It was twice the height of a human.
Its arms were as thick as a man’s thighs.
It nearly filled the entire alleyway.
The passage was wide enough for three grown men to walk side by side.
The captain swallowed hard.
If fear took hold, even a winnable fight would be lost.
He steadied his resolve and spoke.
"So it’s not a werewolf—it’s an owlbear."
As he spoke, he drew his sword.
The sching of metal rang out as the blade reflected the moonlight.
Gripping the sword with both hands, he faced his opponent.
The owlbear turned slightly, revealing its profile.
Its round eyes bulged, and thick red veins ran visibly through them.
For them to be visible even in the moonlight, they had to be massive.
To meet its gaze, the captain had to tilt his head back.
His eyes followed from its head, down its entire body, to the ground.
Blood pooled thickly on the cobblestones.
A corpse lay discarded to the side.
Gnarled intestines dangled from between the beast’s claws.
Torn flesh, shattered bones—the dark crimson stains remained murky even under the moonlight.
Each of the beast’s talons was thick and sharp, resembling brutal, serrated blades.
Yet the owlbear paid no attention to the captain’s scrutiny.
It trembled, its entire body shuddering.
And at that moment, the captain knew.
This damned thing was enjoying itself.
It was drunk on bloodlust.
It relished the slaughter.
"Having fun, are you!?"
His duty was to protect the city.
To protect its citizens.
To cut down the monsters that turned moonlit nights into nightmares.
He kicked off the ground—
And swung his sword in a vertical slash.
He closed the distance in a single step.
He wasn’t aiming to sever its limbs or torso in one blow.
But with the right angle, he could carve out a chunk of flesh.
A clean, precise strike—his specialty.
The owlbear blocked it with a single swipe of its arm.
It saw the incoming blade’s trajectory—
And tilted a single claw outward to deflect it.
Clang!
Sparks flew as the blade was parried.
The moment his attack was stopped, the captain immediately leaped backward.
He wasn’t a knight, but he was skilled enough to handle most foes.
At the very least, he considered himself on par with a squire.
That was why he had risen to the rank of captain.
But this—
Was different.
Hadn’t a squire barely managed to survive against this thing?
"Even though I didn’t swing with full force—"
The moment their weapons clashed, his hands nearly went numb.
More than anything, that movement—
The angle, the defense—
It was as if the beast had learned swordplay.
He was outmatched.
If he fought alone, he would die.
He would end up just like that squire.
Fortunately, he wasn’t alone.
Sweat trickled down his back.
Instead of succumbing to fear, he boldly retreated further and shouted—
"Surround it!"
The owlbear’s eyes locked onto him.
Joy.
Desire.
Murderous intent.
Hatred.
Everything swirled within those brown eyes.
The deep red veins bulging from them only made it more horrifying.
Even though it hadn’t opened its mouth, its sharp beak looked like it could skewer him in an instant.
And those eyes—
They were disturbingly human.
But there was no time to dwell on such thoughts.
As he backed away, the owlbear stalked after him, slow and deliberate.
It followed him right to the alley’s entrance—
Where his three men were waiting with spears.
The moonlight illuminated the entrance perfectly, leaving the inside of the alley shrouded in darkness.
One of the nervous soldiers gulped audibly.
Meanwhile, the captain was drenched in sweat.
The owlbear took a slow step forward.
For a creature of its size, it was eerily quiet.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
If it wanted to, it could ambush prey without making a sound.
It moved with the steps of a born hunter.
As it stepped into the open and saw the weapons aimed at it—
It breathed in deeply.
Its chest expanded.
"Strike!"
The captain shouted, knowing they had to attack first.
A desperate gamble born from fear.
Even as he realized how powerful the enemy was, his sense of duty remained.
The moment he gave the order—
"Oooooooooh!"
The beast roared.
Its cry drowned out the captain’s command, reverberating through the air.
The sheer force of its call slammed into their ears.
"Guh!"
The moment he heard it, the captain felt his entire body lock up.
His heartbeat pounded wildly, his muscles seized—he froze.
A prey animal that encounters its natural predator cannot escape fear.
This was why monsters were called humanity’s natural predators.
Some of the more powerful ones could paralyze people with just their voices.
For a brief moment, he saw it—
The vision of the beast’s claws tearing out his throat, its talons digging into his chest.
And in that instant—
He froze.
His men did too.
"We’re going to die."
The paralyzing fear of death took hold.
It was the kind of terror only high-ranking monsters could invoke—the kind that turned battle-hardened men into trembling prey.
Like a mouse freezing before a cat, the owlbear’s cry had subjugated its enemies with a single sound.
The creature raised its claw.
It was ready to pluck off their heads, one by one, to savor the warm, fresh brains inside.
There was no finer delicacy.
"Kuhh."
A low chuckle escaped.
This was a pleasure beyond anything a human life could offer.
At first, it had resented this transformation—cursed the grotesque form forced upon it.
But now?
Now, it was bliss.
Why resist something so exhilarating?
As long as it avoided knights, there was nothing to fear.
What would they send after it?
A couple of squires, at best?
More guards?
The bodies at its feet confirmed the truth:
The capital was now its hunting ground.
A feast, endless and overflowing, stretched before it.
How could it not rejoice?
Ecstasy surged through its veins, its feathers trembling with anticipation.
Every fiber of its body tensed and relaxed in waves, the thrill of the hunt consuming it.
It was time to indulge.
"Kuhrhrhr."
Drool dripped from its beak.
The urge to sink its talons into flesh was unbearable.
It would think no longer—
It would act.
Just as it prepared to strike—
Tap, tap, tap.
The faint sound of footfalls.
Behind.
To the left.
Roughly twenty paces away.
Since acquiring this body, its hearing had become exquisite.
Calculating distance from sound alone was trivial.
Someone was closing in.
Faster.
Too fast.
Before human reasoning could catch up, the beast’s instincts took over.
Shkk!
Its claws extended—twice their previous length.
Both arms crossed in front, forming a defense.
From the darkness of the alley, it saw—
A flash of white streaking toward it.
Its nocturnal vision turned night into day, allowing it to see clearly.
A shape burst forth, leaving only a ghostly blur in its wake.
Then—
Hwoom!
Something shot toward it—three times faster than the approaching footsteps.
Two sharp lines cut across its vision—
Originating from the figure’s arms, slicing toward its body.
The owlbear instinctively raised its arms, leveling them parallel to the ground—
As if forming a shield.
The twin streaks slammed into its forearm.
Thunk!
A dull, heavy impact.
The owlbear felt the force travel through its bones.
Its iron-hard feathers held—its body wasn’t cut.
But the shock from the blow lingered.
Its attacker had already retreated, vanishing just as quickly as they had struck.
The moment its guard was raised, a second movement followed.
A calculated retreat—
Dodging the owlbear’s counterattack before it even landed.
Its talons carved through empty space, raking the spot where the intruder had just stood.
Regaining its footing, the beast straightened.
Then it spoke.
It cocked its head, curiosity flickering in its bloodthirsty eyes.
"...Huh. There was someone else?"
Its voice was hoarse, deep—barely human anymore.
A slow grin spread across its monstrous face.
"Well then... the feast just got bigger."
The creature stood in its half-beast form—its human origins twisted into a monstrous hybrid of man and predator.
And yet, it spoke.
Flawlessly.
No hesitation, no struggle.
Even as its mouth curved into an inhuman grin, its words carried the ease of conversation.
But its senses told it the truth.
The one before it was not alone.
Its sharp ears and nose caught the faint traces of others nearby.
Still, it couldn’t afford to divide its attention.
The presence before it exuded too much pressure.
This was the one who had slashed at it with twin golden arcs—eyes burning bright as the sun even beneath the pale moonlight.
And then, the figure spoke.
"Hey, dumbass. I’m a beastkin."
The words were aimed directly at it.
"And? I was human once, too. Then I became an owlbear. What’s the difference?"
It wasn’t a lie.
It had felt anger at first, at its transformation. But now?
There was no point in denying it.
Pleasure. Hunger. The thrill of the hunt.
The joy of it all.
It had no quarrel with another predator.
There was more than enough food to go around.
Man, woman, young, old—it made no difference.
But the golden-eyed beastkin gritted their teeth, snarling before shouting—
"You dumb son of a bitch, there are no owlbear beastkin!"
And with that, Dunbakel lunged.
Bang!
The earth cracked beneath her step as her body stretched forward.
In each hand, she wielded a curved blade.
Shorter than a scimitar, but already a natural extension of her limbs.
The air split as she swung—one blade rising, the other falling.
A chaotic, twisting assault.
A technique of her own making, drawn from observing Enkrid and forging it into something uniquely hers.
A strike that could slash or pierce mid-motion.
Yet—
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Steel met claw.
The owlbear blocked, countered, and struck in turn.
Its talons were harder than iron, easily deflecting the assault.
And then, it lunged—
A single swipe, talons growing mid-motion, aiming straight for Dunbakel’s unguarded stomach.
But she twisted.
Pivoting on her left foot, she spun away—
And in the same motion, she slashed.
Fwoosh!
Faster than before.
The blade cut through empty air, grazing the edge of its feathers.
The owlbear did not advance.
"Tch. Annoying."
This one fought better than the squire from before.
Still—
It was manageable.
Even if things went south, it could always retreat.
But then—
"Oi, what the hell? You’re just some oversized owl?"
A voice rang out behind it.
A man stood there, twirling a long-handled axe.
Familiar.
It had seen that face before.
Where?
Its memory failed, but its instincts screamed.
A problem.
"Maybe I should run—"
It never finished the thought.
"Answer my question, and I’ll let you walk away."
A voice.
Right behind it.
A chill raced down its spine.
It lashed out, elbow slamming back—
Its steel-feathered arm was a weapon.
Anything human would be crushed, bones turned to pulp—
But the strike missed.
The bastard had already moved.
Too fast.
Too smooth.
They had anticipated the attack.
And then—
"Who leads the Black Blade?"
The owlbear didn’t answer.
Instead, it inhaled—
And roared.
OooOOOOOOHH!
A monstrous bellow, heavy with power.
A predator’s scream meant to shatter the resolve of lesser beings.
It had worked before.
The guards had frozen.
Pissed themselves.
Surely—
...Wait.
Why was no one screaming?
The hat-wearing bastard flinched, but still held his ground.
The others?
Unfazed.
One of them—the axe-wielder—
Smirked.
"Shut the fuck up, monster."
Another approached.
Steps slow, deliberate.
Holding... a whip?
"You out for a midnight stroll, too?"
The axe-wielder asked, amused.
The one with the whip?
Matthew.
A name it recognized.
A man from the palace.
The bodyguard of Cridianart Landeous Nauril.
A noble stirring unrest in the kingdom.
One who had turned the palace into a battleground of politics and ambition.
And because of that—
Because of that man’s actions—
The city had become chaotic.
Guards distracted.
The capital too preoccupied to care about the occasional disappearance of a few commoners.
No one would hunt a beast that only preyed on expendables.
Or so it had thought.
It hadn’t expected this.
Hunters who weren’t bound by status or duty.
People who didn’t chase it for their own gain.
Warriors who fought because they chose to.
It didn’t understand.
But it knew.
It had miscalculated.
And miscalculations kill.
The owlbear let out a low growl.
It would not die.
It had tasted pleasure.
Had indulged in its instincts.
It would live to feast again.
Would gorge itself on the flesh of the weak.
Would bathe in their blood, crack their bones, and devour their—
"Pathetic."
The word cut through its thoughts.
Spoken with utter disdain.
The owlbear bared its fangs.
"Gahah! You bastards think you can—"
"Why does it talk so much?"
The axe-wielder scoffed.
Matthew, on the other hand, ignored the beast entirely.
His focus was on the men around him.
"So, you’re here on the Marquess’ orders? Figures. He did say he’d handle this personally."
Updated from freewёbnoνel.com.
Dunbakel sneered.
"Shut up, freak."
And then there was him.
The silent one.
He hadn’t drawn his weapon.
Hadn’t spoken since demanding its answer.
Just watched.
Calm.
Still.
Dangerous.
The owlbear’s instincts screamed.
If it moved—
If it attacked—
That one would be the end.
And then—
"Who leads the Black Blade?"
The voice came again.
Cold.
Unrelenting.
"Answer."
"I don’t fucking know!"
The owlbear snapped.
It had meant to stay silent.
But the pressure.
It was suffocating.
"I see."
And then—
The weight disappeared.
The man stepped back.
One.
Single.
Step.
But the air shifted.
The noose that had been tightening around its throat loosened.
Just enough.
It wasn’t out of danger.
But it could move.
Escape.
It just needed an opening—
"Captain?"
A new voice.
Familiar.
One it recognized.
And in that instant—
It knew.
This fight was over.
