A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 457: Then Go Ahead and Dance

“Raise your bows!”

It was a command they had heard countless times. Even though the commander was just as exhilarated, he still did his job.

Millio’s gaze turned to one side.

From the edge of the forest, a mass of monsters broke away and advanced as a distinct cluster.

The soldiers atop the wall, upon seeing it, felt a strange sense of relief.

Millio was the same.

Because now they had an outlet—a target for the heat blazing through their hearts and the fire coursing through their bodies.

“Aim!”

The commander’s shout rang out across the ramparts. Each unit leader echoed it in unison.

“Aim!”

They notched arrows to the strings and adjusted their angles. The bows were made from the bones of beasts and monsters, the strings twisted from sinew.

Squeeeeeak.

Millio held his bowstring taut, waiting for the order.

Every soldier stood firm in their position.

The commander was too busy counting the size and number of the oncoming horde.

It was nighttime, making perfect visibility difficult. Even with a furrowed brow and intense focus, he couldn’t see clearly.

One of his men fired a flaming arrow.

Thump—it flew out and landed among the enemy ranks.

The monsters didn’t even flinch. A flaming arrow meant nothing to them. It couldn’t deal any real damage.

The black soil devoured the flames.

The fire snuffed out almost instantly.

And one shot wasn’t enough to illuminate the field.

“They’ll do. That area we’re looking at is right in the middle. Not more than we can handle. Not too many.”

Considering the twin moons, anyway.

Oara’s words trailed off. She stood with arms crossed on the rampart, unmoving.

Hearing her, the commander nodded.

That earlier flaming arrow would serve as the target for everyone.

They could roughly estimate the location.

“Fire!”

With his order, the signal flag dropped.

Flap!

Wind, crimson moonlight, torchfire, and elongated shadows tangled together. Next to the archers who had drawn their bows, the flag dropped—and the commander’s mouth opened.

“Release!”

A great archer is someone who hits the mark.

But a great archer unit is something else entirely.

They aren’t just sharpshooters—they’re people who can all fire precisely to a designated point.

And this was a well-trained military archer corps.

Arrows ripped through the air and rained down on the oncoming monster horde.

Red-hot arrowheads pierced spider heads and thudded into the ground.

***

Fwwwwweeeee!

Enkrid heard the whistling of arrows flying overhead. They were coming from behind—friendly fire.

And what did that mean?

It meant Rem and Dunbakel had done their job properly.

It wasn’t just Millio and the soldiers who’d been roused—Roman, Aisia, the short blonde, and the four squires moved as well.

“We hold the line here.”

Roman clenched his teeth and spoke.

“You four—group around me.”

The short blonde junior knight stepped between the squires and took command. Her weapons were a dagger and poison.

A fitting placement.

Roman and Aisia coordinated like clockwork.

Roman became a bold spearhead, driving massive strikes forward, while Aisia blocked the spiders' legs that shot through the gaps with her shield.

They were a perfect pair.

The monsters were many, and the twin moons were out.

“We kill them all.”

Roman didn’t hide his surging momentum. He brought his sword down as a torch burned behind him.

Whoosh—CRACK!

His great club-sword crushed six spiders in a single swing.

Before that, Aisia had darted in and out, driving the monsters into one spot.

Kill and strike—again and again. Enkrid felt something slide into his awareness from outside his field of vision.

Something sharp rising from below. A sharp pang hit his gut. It had aimed for his ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) abdomen.

He barely caught it and instinctively drew Gladius to deflect it.

He twisted his left wrist and used a technique that blended parrying and redirection.

CLANG—screeee!

He failed to completely deflect it. The force behind that line of attack was as heavy as a giant’s.

Enkrid twisted his side.

Rrrip!

His skin barely escaped being torn, and the attack scraped along the surface of his armor.

If he hadn’t been wearing that bandaged armor, at the very least, flesh would have been torn off.

The attacker had an arm shaped like a blade, with venom-tipped claws at the end.

A ghoul.

That was its name.

“Jericks!”

Oara’s shout echoed from atop the wall.

If left alone, she would rush in and fight. Then this would just become another repeat of those other days.

So from now on—

I’ll force it.

He’d dig in his heels. Just like Ragna when he carved a path.

Enkrid had no intention of giving up this fight.

“Roman! This one’s a bet!”

Enkrid’s voice rang out.

Just then, a similar monster sprang up in front of Roman.

A spider swordsman. A creature that wielded all eight of its limbs like blades.

Everyone was stunned. The thing radiated a force akin to a knight’s.

And while they stood frozen in awe, a shadow rose behind the group of squires. An owlbear.

Enkrid hadn’t predicted every detail.

But he knew one thing for sure—whenever the board was set like this, the owlbear always aimed for the weakest part first.

If a unit was deployed in front of the ramparts, it would always go for them first.

So now, it was targeting the squires.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Enkrid had already predicted it before the shadow even moved. He shouted to Roman and twisted his body halfway back.

He saw the four squires clearly.

The torchlight, the shadows, the crimson moonlight, the short blonde, the positions of all four squires.

He took it all in at once—and saw the movement lurking behind Oliver.

Oliver had been panting and worn out for a while now. He lacked endurance.

The owlbear had picked up on that.

Enkrid turned his gaze, extended his right foot outward, twisted his waist in an arc, and flung his left hand forward. The sword in his hand turned vertical, cutting through the crimson moonlight like a spinning disc.

Whooosh!

Rather than regaining balance after throwing the sword, Enkrid spun his entire body again and slashed horizontally with Acker.

Clang! Thud!

Two sounds rang out at once.

One came from the owlbear. The other, from right in front of Enkrid.

Acker had struck the ghoul’s claw just as it lunged, and the owlbear had crossed its arms over its chest to block the thrown sword.

Its feathers tore slightly and black blood dripped out—but it wasn’t a fatal wound.

Gladius clattered to the ground after being deflected.

Come to think of it, lately he hadn’t really managed to split anything with Gladius, but the sword had done its job.

Enkrid raised Acker horizontally until it reached his face.

His blue eyes gleamed over the blade in the light of the red moons.

The ghoul stepped back after its claws were blocked.

Was it surprised the attack was stopped?

No—creatures like this had no such intellect.

It was likely a monster that had developed killing techniques purely through instinct.

Still, it was curious. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

This bastard really was worthy of the name Jericks.

“Crazy bastard,”

Lua Gharne muttered a beat too late.

Enkrid understood the meaning. Facing down a knight-level monster and still turning his back to save an ally—yeah, it was madness.

Which is why it was so damn fun.

Ah, this is so goddamn good.

Enkrid didn’t bother hiding his feelings. There was no need to.

He was smashing every last thing these monster bastards wanted.

And that made it all the more enjoyable. Just being able to fight like this was its own reward.

Enkrid smiled.

Up to this point, everything had gone according to plan.

But would everything go his way?

Probably not.

You can’t know everything.

Not everything unfolds as expected. Of course it doesn’t.

Today may repeat, but it can never be the same day every time.

Still, some things never change.

The ghoul. The owlbear. The spider swordsman.

Three types of monsters. These mutts. Bait set out for hunting knights.

This was the board laid out by the creature known as a shard of Balrog.

So what was Enkrid supposed to do?

He’d already decided.

“Your mother really must have been a ghoul.”

He muttered nonsense. The ghoul growled in response.

Its breath reeked of venom.

Its claws were poisonous. Its breath was, too.

“Brush your teeth, will you?”

More mad words from Enkrid.

“You sure you’re alright?” Lua Gharne asked.

Yeah, he was fine. This was just like warming up before a workout.

Like the ritual before a sacrifice.

Verbal taunts didn’t work on these things—but actions did.

See? Whether bastards like you are in front of me or not, I can still throw a sword at that damn owlbear behind you and still not get hit by the likes of you.

Grrr.

The ghoul exhaled again. Enkrid could feel the creature’s frustration as its plan began to fall apart, and that only made him smile wider.

“Trying to earn yourself a nickname like ‘Smiling Enkrid’ now?”

Even Lua Gharne tensed.

It was that kind of monster.

With a grin still lingering on his face, Enkrid recalled his goal.

To send Oara out—unharmed, unexhausted.

To send out a smiling Oara.

If the enemy wanted an Oara who didn’t smile, a hollow shell stripped of will—

Then Enkrid would show them an Oara bursting with life.

“What bet?”

Roman’s voice finally reached him.

He spoke while watching the front with sharp eyes.

Enkrid sensed Oara approaching from behind. She made no effort to conceal her presence.

The usual pressure—it radiated outward in waves and bore down upon everything ahead. This time, the ones feeling it were the monsters.

Some of the spider beasts near her even recoiled, flung back as if by sheer force.

And she hadn’t even drawn her sword.

“That one’s mine.”

She spoke. Her will rang clear in her voice.

Enkrid refused that clear will.

“Please wait your turn.”

A brief silence pressed down on their shoulders. Wordless pressure.

Enkrid refused that, too.

Oara broke the silence and asked,

“You sure you don’t need help?”

“Just cheer me on.”

Enkrid replied without missing a beat. An answer that radiated certainty—this was his fight, and his alone.

He was digging in. Stubborn. Willful. Relentless.

So Jericks was the prey she’d chosen?

Too bad. He was Enkrid’s now. His hunt.

A will bordering on obsession flared up and became sheer force.

There was no red cloak on his back, but what Oara saw was someone more than worthy of the knight’s mantle.

“Fascinating little bastard.”

Oara said it like a compliment.

Did she smile at those words? Probably. But Enkrid didn’t have the time to look back.

The ghoul’s energy surged. As if warning him: turn your gaze the wrong way, and you’ll get a strike just like that knight from Azpen.

Enkrid opened his chest and spoke with his body.

Go ahead. Try it.

The dice had been cast—now it was time to see the result.

In the first repetition of this day, there had been constants that never changed—just like the unchanging dice roll, this battlefield had its own laws.

So what was the condition to break through?

Simple. Survive. Even the Ferryman had said it.

Run away.

He called it kindness.

But to Enkrid, it could never be kindness.

If all he wanted was to survive—

“I never even dreamed of that.”

Enkrid muttered again. And with that, his will shone brighter. The obsession rising from his body halted Oara in place.

The ghoul didn’t understand human speech, so it just stood there silently after hearing Enkrid’s mumble.

Enkrid took a breath and focused.

He could imitate a knight’s strike.

But would the enemy just stand still and take it?

Tension stiffened the shoulders. Better to loosen up a little.

Enkrid kept his eyes locked on the ghoul and finally answered Roman’s earlier question about the bet.

“Roman—if you kill your monster before I kill mine, I’ll admit your face is better-looking than mine.”

To say something like that in a moment like this—insane.

But if one couldn’t enjoy a moment like this, they would never make it to the level of a junior knight.

A knight: one in ten thousand talent.

A junior knight: almost the same.

If it weren’t for this endlessly repeated day—

There’d be no talk of wagers here. No claiming of prey. No fighting with obsessive resolve.

Enkrid felt the hairs on his body stand on end.

He’d never thought dying was fine—but he knew without a doubt this was the kind of moment he lived for.

A life lived with someone to protect at his back.

A knight’s life, like the lines from a bard’s song.

“I want to be a knight.”

That single phrase had once been a dream. Torn, faded with time—

But now it had been stitched back together and was gleaming once again.

“Deal.”

Roman’s answer came.

Sometimes, a man needs recognition from his rival.

“You said just to cheer you on?”

Oara’s voice came from behind. This time, it lacked the same iron-clad will.

But the pressure remained—she could step in at any moment. That much was clear.

Enkrid knew Oara’s weakness. She couldn’t fight long once poisoned.

Her endurance wasn’t befitting a knight.

So the one meant to dance on this battlefield wasn’t her. Not yet.

The sword called Oara wasn’t meant to be drawn now.

“Then go ahead and dance.”

Enkrid said, and swung his sword.