Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 531 - Not All Knights Are the Same

Chapter 531 - Not All Knights Are the Same

"...To kill or not to kill, that is the question."

The man hesitated for a moment but then spoke again in the same tone as before.

The poetic knight of Aspen had wavy, deep indigo hair, a high nose bridge, and deep-set eyes framed by slightly recessed cheekbones.

Overall, he was reasonably handsome.

Not as much as Enkrid or Krais of course.

Regardless of his looks Rem decided to mock this idiot.

"Huh? What did you say? Hard to hear a guy who's been fooling around with ghouls."

The term fooling around is typically used for animals mating and ghouls, being sexless creatures couldn't engage in such acts.

Even if they could no one in their right mind would do such a thing.

Thus, this was a step beyond asking if someone's mother was a ghoul a sharp jab meant to provoke.

"What did you say?"

"Quite the peculiar taste you've got there."

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Huh? Can't hear me? What, got bad ears? Ghoul, fool, hooked up, ate each other, you freak."

Rem kindly broke the words down syllable by syllable, and the man dumbfounded listened silently.

'What the hell did that lunatic barbarian just say?'

It didn't take long for the words to travel from his ears to his brain.

The man, confident in his appearance prided himself on his soulful eyes and poetic flair.

It was all pretension.

Rem's words made veins bulge visibly on the forehead of the knight of Aspen's Royal Knights Order, who aspired to be nicknamed the Poet-Knight.

The veins were so thick and pronounced it was surprising they didn't burst.

His bare head, devoid of a helmet made them even more noticeable.

"Do not be swayed by a madman's words," a red-eyed figure said from knight's rear.

"Ohhh, he did get hooked up with ghouls, you say? Hooked up!"

Rem, childishly sticking out his tongue, spat nonsense.

The Aspen knight knew this was immature.

He also knew he should ignore it.

The problem was that the man taunting him radiated a presence that couldn't be dismissed.

Worse he seemed genuinely relaxed.

Even as he stood surrounded by the assassins from Monter's Swamp, he showed no tension even picking his nose.

His words, demeanor and appearance none of it sat well with the knight.

"You like that?" Rem chuckled, asking with a smirk.

The indigo-haired knight decided then and there to tear apart this barbarian's foul mouth with his own hands.

"Your tongue is vile, barbarian."

Had anyone ever treated him with such disdain before?

Perhaps not.

No one had ever mocked him this thoroughly, at least.

This mockery awakened the devil within him or so he thought.

The knight, a new recruit to Aspen's elite order lacked true mental discipline.

And why wouldn't he?

He had never once been outdone or left behind in his entire life.

He was born with talent, honed it with effort and was supported by a favorable environment.

The genius of the Ekkins family, Corwin Ekkins was his name.

Corwin placed his hand on his sword.

Ting!

The blade shimmered as it caught the light.

He had named his sword Fate.

If spoken in full it meant Predestined Fate.

"You, barbarian devoid of rhythm and romance. I shall claim your life."

A natural-born genius, Corwin had the ability to glimpse the future from a young age.

He could always see his opponent's attack trajectory and predict their next move.

Thus, his sword Fate, became the weapon that decided the destiny of his enemies.

And since he had never lost a life-or-death battle, he had unshakable confidence in his blade and his skills.

Corwin spoke once more as if reciting poetry, but Rem responded nonchalantly picking his ear.

"Sure, go ahead you ghoul-loving freak. Give it a try."

"...I told you not to engage him," the red-eyed figure added from behind.

In terms of verbal sparring, Rem had already won.

Corwin's veins thickened further, his sword pointed forward emanating an imposing aura.

As the tension built, Rem shrugged it off but the red-eyed man two steps behind Corwin suddenly dug his toes into the ground and kicked forward.

Thud!

A mound of dirt flew toward Rem with a loud noise.

Rem lowered his chin, raised both arms and blocked the dirt.

The motion was swift taking place in the span of a single breath.

In that fleeting moment, one of the assassins from Monter's Swamp fired a silent dart gun.

The sound of earth scattering, the distraction of overwhelming pressure these were all calculated tactics.

A nearly silent needle flew through the air toward Rem.

With a casual wave of his left hand, Rem swatted it away.

To the untrained eye, his hand seemed to move in a blur flicking up and down twice in rapid succession.

Whoosh!

A gust of wind followed and the needle veered off course and fell to the ground.

At the same time, a net with attached weights fell toward Rem's head and blades shot up from beneath his feet.

The assassins from Monter's Swamp thought they had spotted an opening in their target's defenses.

Of course, it was an intentional trap.

Rem stood still for a moment, then suddenly grinned swinging an axe he had somehow drawn unnoticed.

To Corwin Ekkins, all of this played out in slow motion burning into his mind.

Thwack!

The axe moved.

Thwack-thwack-thwack!

It moved continuously, demonstrating its purpose with every swing.

Each motion drew a line in the air crushing the assassins like overripe fruits.

Without even using the axe's blade, he had smashed and pulverized their heads.

Seven assassins who had charged him met the same fate skulls split, crushed, and shattered.

The net too, was torn into six pieces mid-air.

All of this happened in the span of a single exhalation.

"...May your spirit dwell within me," murmured the red-eyed man as he began chanting a spell.

It was a possession ritual, summoning the spirit of a high-ranking demon.

His body trembled, drooled and transformed as the demon's essence merged with his own.

When his eyes opened again his entire aura had changed exuding a menacing presence.

This was the forbidden art of embodying the spirit of a demon a practice feared even among sorcery.

Meanwhile, Rem leaned casually on a nearby tree with one hand speaking nonchalantly.

"The Big-Eyed guy who set up this ambush seemed pretty worried. I couldn't figure out why, honestly. Looks like this is an easy fight for me."

Even as he spoke, three more assassins lunged at him using the same tactics as before.

This time, darts and poisoned sand rained down.

Rem leapt aside, leaving the tree he had been leaning on.

The tree now severed began to tilt and fall.

The assassins hiding near or on the tree scattered like ants hit by raindrops.

Rem briefly scanned the chaos, then kicked a rock into the air and smashed it with the flat side of his axe.

Clang!

By adjusting his strength at the moment of impact, the rock flew faster than an arrow, striking an assassin's head and causing it to explode.

Pop!

Blood and brain matter sprayed in all directions.

Rem, unaffected continued speaking resting his axe on his shoulder.

"And the leader, you said you wouldn't sacrifice your allies? Then just do it, right? What's the point of talking? Just kill anyone who attacks. Simple, no?"

The knights of Aspen briefly exchanged glances, then spread out to reposition.

Their combat styles were different.

But Corwin Ekkins' Fate allowed him to foresee the future.

Thus, Corwin could coordinate effortlessly with his allies even if he despised it.

Rem watched them adjust their positions around him.

The red-eyed man's body briefly dissolved into red mist before reforming.

This was the work of the demon he had summoned—a vampire lord.

But Rem, unfazed muttered to his axe still on his shoulder:

"Are you feeling good today?"

The question wasn't directed at an enemy.

It was my axe asking me that, echoing its own sentiments back to me.

My Descending Weapon had just conveyed that it was in a good mood today, eager to play.

Assassins regrouped, surrounding us in a formation.

Having faced Jaxen before, Rem didn't even find Monster's swamp remotely impressive.

Neither did the other two.

Amateurs—cripples, even.

As Barnas Hurrier had confidently declared, not all knights are created equal.

"Have you ever fought someone whose Will never runs dry?"

Fel had been provoked, spewing nonsense about the air feeling different as Enkrid ascended to another level, consumed by madness.

Jaxen, too seemed shaken stealing glances at Enkrid.

And Rem was no exception.

A knight was not the endgame.

Enkrid communicated this with his actions and presence and it resonated deeply with Rem.

"Do you know how hard I pushed myself, training like crazy all because of that guy?"

As Rem spoke, he let his left hand hang loose.

It was time to show his true combat style, something he'd never revealed to allies. His hand brushed against his waist, soon gripping the end of a thick leather strap.

At the end of the strap was a leather pouch, just the right size to hold something in his palm. A sling.

The strap was crafted from tiger sinew and twisted owlbear leather, all handmade. The pouch was reinforced with scales dismantled from a Drake's armor, a modification that once made Krais smack his forehead.

"Do you have any idea how much that's worth?"

"Should I care?"

"No, just live in ignorance."

Krais never intended to convince Rem.

He spoke out of sheer exasperation, unable to let it go.

Even if he were beaten within an inch of his life, Krais couldn't have held his tongue.

It was similar to how Enkrid couldn't sleep a single night without training.

Rem had scoured riverbanks collecting dozens of rounded stones and even had the blacksmith forge metal projectiles of a similar shape.

The sling, now unwound, trailed down to Rem's feet. Its length was absurdly long, but it suited him perfectly.

In his right hand, the axe; in his left the sling.

This was Rem's ultimate combat form, the same he had used to kill the cannibal warrior long ago.

"Man, it's been ages since I used this. Consider yourselves honored, you ghoul-loving bastards."

Rem sneered at his foes as he spoke.

Corwin no longer reacted to his words.

He discarded any pretense of pride or vanity.

As an Aspen knight who had survived countless battles, his instincts whispered a terrifying truth.

The gray-haired beast before him was more dangerous than anyone he'd ever faced.

For a fleeting moment, Corwin even thought this opponent seemed greater than his master Barnas Hurrier.

"Nonsense."

He quickly dismissed the thought.

Allowing an enemy to take root in his mind was the fastest path to defeat.

A knight must sharpen the blade of their resolve.

"I will win."

Corwin reaffirmed his determination.

Opposite to him, the red-eyed man coldly assessed the situation.

He too recognized the need to fortify his resolve.

Through sorcery that infused intent into his body, he had become a knight.

Unconventional yes, but not dishonorable.

Even Barnas Hurrier had acknowledged it.

"Hmm? That's an interesting technique. So what if people mock you for it?

Why should you care?

As long as you're confident, that's all that matters.

Besides, in the end you'll meet everyone on the same path—it's just a matter of method."

With Aspen's greatest knight validating him, the red-eyed man steeled his mind for the one he believed in.

Hooong, hooong, hooong.

Rem began spinning his sling.

A circular blur soon formed above his head.

Wheeeeeeee!

The sound alone was enough to overwhelm the surroundings.

Without hesitation, Rem extended his left arm and released the sling proving that the sound wasn't just for show.

Bang!

The projectile struck an assassin's skull, scattering blood and brain matter in a radial spray across the ground.

The remains splattered against a large tree trunk nearby, leaving marks akin to smashed ripe tomatoes.

The dead assassin and the tree stood more than ten paces apart.

Whiiing, hooong, wheeeee!

As soon as one projectile was launched, the sling spun again.

"Next one's coming."

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Without missing a beat, Rem prepared his second shot.

Corwin, sensing the trajectory of the projectile activated his ability: a vision of fleeting futures.

Seeing no point to remain passive, Corwin slashed through the air with his sword surging forward and bringing his blade down in a vertical arc.

As the sword neared Rem's back, an axe appeared deflecting the blade with a loud clang.

At that moment, the red-eyed man descended from above, clawed fingers outstretched aiming for Rem's head.

But Rem's axe wasn't just for show; it batted away all ten of the incoming claws as well.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Sparks flew and for a moment the air grew hot.

Hooowooom!

With a swift motion, Rem swung his axe and released his second sling projectile at an angle before it reached full speed.

Ping! Bang!

Another assassin fell, killed instantly.

It was an unpredictable attack timing, momentarily freezing the group of assassins.

"Attack all at once! Those who hesitate will face a punishment far worse than death!"

The red-eyed man's shout spurred the assassins back into action.

Still, none of this registered as a threat to Rem.

Even against two knights he felt no pressure.

'These guys are easier to deal with than that directionally-challenged idiot or the stray cat.'

More than anything, sparring with Enkrid was far more fun.

That was Rem's honest opinion.

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Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapter