A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Vancento devised the best plan for the given situation. No, he had devised one.

After killing the guards, including that bastard Encrid and his companions, he would seize this opportunity to join forces with Martai and overthrow the city.

He even added that this should have been done long ago.

But now, Vancento can no longer speak.

A person whose head is split open and buried in the ground cannot speak.

"Let's go."

Encrid searched the bodies and the carriage, taking what he needed, and buried the corpses.

'Not bad.'

A generous pouch of gold coins, a few jewels, and some black stones whose use he couldn't discern.

The black stones didn't seem to be jewels, but they emitted a strange aura when he looked at them.

Could they be sold? He wasn't sure, but he took them anyway, thinking they might be converted into gold coins.

After stuffing the gold and other items into his backpack and taking the black dagger used by the guard, he had gathered everything he could.

He felt like he had looted everything.

"I feel like a thief."

Encrid remarked.

"How about forming a band of thieves when we get out of the army? Encrid's Thieves' Guild?"

Rem joked. Despite his words, he wasn't the type to steal from innocent people.

Encrid and his companions moved immediately without resting. Naturally, Dunbachel, tied to the rope, had to follow.

There was no chance to escape.

She had told them about the ambush site.

Despite mentioning that some of the core forces of the Black Blade Bandits might be there, they were full of confidence.

"Rough wilderness, black sun, breaking ground, shattering sky."

Rem suddenly started singing a song that might be heard in a western frontier.

It wasn't a particularly good song, but Rem's voice was surprisingly excellent.

"Breaking the sky and charging to destroy."

As she listened to the song with half an ear, she could hear the other two talking ahead.

"How's your sword technique coming along? Have you mastered it?"

"I've memorized it all."

Despite the complexity of the question, the answer was clear.

The blonde who asked the question hesitated for a while. It seemed like he was choosing his words carefully. Then he suddenly spoke.

"Stretching your left hand is to guide the opponent to your right. You shouldn't ignore the meaning of the movement."

"Yeah. Got it."

Encrid, the leader, nodded.

'Got it?'

Dunbachel was bewildered. What on earth were they talking about?

Encrid continued.

"There is meaning in the steps and in the hand that holds the sword, right?"

The blonde nodded lightly and cheerfully.

"Yes. Every movement has meaning."

Although Dunbachel couldn't fully understand the conversation, she grasped one thing.

'It's about swordsmanship.'

She was still bewildered. Why were they so confident?

Something was stirring in her chest. Although she couldn't pinpoint what it was, one thing was clear.

Curiosity suddenly sprang up.

She was curious about who these people were.

* * *

Encrid listened to Ragna's words and gained a small realization.

It was what he needed to hear at the moment.

Ragna had grasped this from just one battle and conveyed it.

Even though his verbal skills were terrible and he expressed it messily.

'That can be understood if you listen well.'

There is no problem.

Encrid reiterated the teaching by speaking in reverse to organize his thoughts.

'Every movement in swordsmanship has meaning.'

It is correct to fully understand those meanings.

He had also felt something when dealing with the enemies at the rear before.

The harmony of Valen Mercenary Sword Technique and swordsmanship.

After all, it is up to the person holding the sword to wield it.

'Understanding and internalizing it.'

If he fully understood, he could deconstruct and use it, and extract the necessary movements at the required moment.

Ragna's words started with the meaning of the movements, but for Encrid, they ended with the attitude towards learning swordsmanship.

"Intermediate swordsmanship, once you fully understand the current techniques."

Ragna said from the side.

"After you understand and internalize what you're learning now."

Encrid added.

They both nodded as they looked ahead.

"There's an ambush ahead, isn't there?"

Rem had just finished his song, and the conversation with Ragna had ended. The beastman from behind spoke. No, she asked.

There was force in her voice, not hiding her bewilderment.

"What's your name again?"

Encrid turned his head slightly and asked.

He felt as if she had asked several times, but the beastman answered with eyes that said, 'What does my name matter?'

"Dunbachel."

"Right, Dunbachel."

Encrid tried to explain.

Why they were heading straight for the ambush site, why they were taking this risk.

Encrid did not consider the ambush ahead as a crisis.

Why?

Who had conveyed the strength of himself and his companions to the other side?

It would be the dead noble and his guards.

All the Black Blade attackers were dead, and the only survivor was the beastman.

If this beastman had secretly conveyed a message, it would be a different story.

'There's no sign of that.'

There hadn't been any opportunity for her to do so, but sometimes you can feel things just by looking.

Golden eyes mixed with questions, curiosity, and something resembling longing.

The beastman Dunbachel was simply asking.

Why head into the ambush?

The answer was simple.

If the elite few were waiting without understanding this side's strength.

'Then an ambush wouldn't really be an ambush.'

Of course, all these calculations could go wrong and they could face danger. That possibility always exists.

What if the Black Blade went half-mad and committed more than half their forces here?

'There's no way.'

The probability of that happening was exceedingly low.

As Krais acknowledged, Encrid's mind worked quite well when he chose to use it, even though he often didn't.

The expression might be somewhat bothersome, but it wasn't a bad remark. Encrid knew this well himself.

'If it were me.'

If he were the leader of the Black Blade group, he would send exactly twice the forces he had sent before.

That would be sufficient.

If more concern was needed, he would add someone whose specialty was assassination rather than fighting.

So, from the start, the strength composition would be mismatched. Not only was he here, but so were Rem and Ragna.

Ragna, yawning widely and mumbling about being sleepy.

Rem, kicking rocks as he walked.

There was no tension visible at all.

For now, both were overwhelmingly stronger than Encrid.

This is why it would be a mistake to underestimate their strength.

This was what Encrid believed.

Dunbachel kept insisting there was an ambush ahead, questioning why they were just marching forward.

There was an answer to that, but explaining it fully would take too long, and there was no need to convince the golden-eyed beastman in front of him.

"If you're asking why we're heading towards the ambush, it's simple."

He paused briefly, then added one more thing as he looked into the yearning eyes.

"I want to swing my sword more."

It wasn't a lie. He had made calculations, but it was also a desire he held in his heart.

At those words, Dunbachel's golden pupils shook wildly.

……Why?

Why for such a simple reason?

But also because it was the right reason.

Krimhalt's teachings surged from deep within her heart, striking her head like a fountain.

It was as if someone had struck a bell right next to her ear.

'Bloom and wither on the battlefield.'

Krimhalt, the God she believed in, had said to bloom and wither on the battlefield.

The man before her intended to do just that.

At the same time, she recalled the words of the fortune-teller she had heard when she was driven out of his village.

"When you wish to die in the future, there will be a guide by your side."

At the time, she thought it was merely words of pity, but now it felt different.

Dunbachel had prepared for death but survived.

Whose whim had caused that?

It was because of the man in front of her.

Between Dunbachel's jealousy, envy, and admiration, a gentle breeze of desire began to grow.

'I want to bear this man's child.'

In reality, it would be impossible.

Hybrids of beastmen and humans were rarely born.

The desire was not singular.

'I want to stay by his side.'

I want to stay by his side. I want to learn about his life. I want to die beside him.

These complex and subtle desires burned in her chest.

Encrid glanced at those eyes.

'What's up with her eyes?'

He thought he had gotten used to seeing people with crazed eyes lately, but this was the first time he'd seen eyes like these.

They were somehow both sensuous and intense.

"But why didn't Esther come along?"

As he looked into the beastwoman Dunbachel's eyes, Rem suddenly asked.

Avoiding those eyes, Encrid answered Rem.

"How would I know? Our Esther is quite the fickle one."

Encrid joked, and Rem laughed.

"If Esther hears that, she might scribble a music score on your face, but you're not entirely wrong."

Sometimes she acted like she'd never leave his side, and other times she would wander off for days without returning.

Her actions certainly made the label 'fickle' seem appropriate.

As they walked leisurely, they climbed a small hill.

A few small trees came into view, and soon there were enough trees to obscure their vision to the sides.

The path was cluttered. Stones jutted out of the ground.

Ants marched in lines, carrying what looked like the corpses of dead insects. They moved diligently.

It wasn't an easy path to walk.

As they walked, it felt more like a small hillock than a hill.

Once they crossed this place, it would be a two-day walk to the agreed-upon location.

The place where the envoy and the Black Blade were supposed to meet.

Of course, that meeting was now meaningless.

The leaves rustled in the wind, and sunlight streamed through the gaps.

The weather was good. The wind wasn't stifling, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves wasn't too hot.

As they moved forward, a clearing came into view, beyond which dense foliage and thorns mixed.

It was a dead-end.

"This is as far as you go."

About ten people were visible inside the clearing. One of them spoke up.

Three women and seven men.

Among them, there was someone with an axe, someone standing with both hands lowered, someone sitting neatly on a fairly large rock, and even someone perched on a branch above. �

A motley crew.

A cold tension filled the air. The speaker glared, and Encrid and his group stopped walking.

Now, what to do?

Tension hung in the air. In the midst of it, Encrid opened his mouth.

"Wow, an ambush."

His tone was theatrical. And his acting was terrible.

"Wow, we've been caught."

Rem joined in.

"This is so surprising."

Ragna added something similar, picking at the sleep from his eyes, making it seem like he was genuinely surprised.

Watching this, Dunbachel remained bewildered.

An impromptu play here?

"To think you were waiting for us here. Such meticulous people."

Encrid continued, impressively picking his ear while talking about meticulousness.

"Totally unexpected. I'm trembling in my boots."

Rem said, picking his nose.

Even while picking his nose, Rem's handsome face didn't lose its charm.

"I was so surprised I almost bit my tongue."

As Encrid spoke, he chewed on a candy.

Crunch.

It was sweet. But where did that candy come from?

Dunbachel, who had been watching, couldn't help but wonder.

"Ugh, I want to run away."

Encrid said, and Rem, who always enjoyed teasing others, played along.

What were they doing?

It was a provocation.

Listening to their words, which immediately got under the skin, even Dunbachel felt annoyed.

So how would their opponents feel?

"Are they insane?"

One of them expressed bewilderment.

"Do you all have a death wish?"

A woman feigning composure.

"They're dead men anyway."

One who didn't even care about them.

"These fucking bastards?"

Even one who was angry.

Seeing these reactions, Encrid nodded and looked at Rem. Rem looked back at Encrid, snorted, and nodded.

They seemed quite pleased with their opponents' reactions.

"Don't run away, stay here."

The blonde with red eyes, Ragna, said, then stepped back.

If there was ever a moment to escape, it was now.

But Dunbachel chose to watch instead of running.

She wanted to know, to see.

What exactly were these three relying on to come here?

Their opponents were known as some of the best within the Black Blade group.

Dunbachel still didn't fully know the skills of Encrid, Rem, and Ragna.

"I've never seen anyone like you in my life. Seeing that Vancento isn't here, I assume you've already dealt with him. Did you know we were waiting and came anyway?"

A bearded man standing at the front said. His weapon was a halberd.

The sharp point and the axe blade attached to the side were about the size of a palm.

Even just seeing the way he held it at an angle showed he wasn't an easy opponent.

If one got caught by that axe blade, their skull would burst like a ripe fruit.

"How did you know?"

Encrid asked, "How did you know?"

"…You've got a natural talent for getting under people's skin, don't you?" said the man with the halberd, glaring.

Rem chuckled and said, "Correct! I've never met someone with such a sharp tongue in my life."

Encrid felt wronged. "I was just being sincere."

Of course, he did intend to tease a bit, but wasn't that a natural thing to say in this situation?

"How did you know?"

It was the perfect line.

"So, instead of trying to win with words, it's better to come at us with your weapons."

Rem said, as if concluding the situation.

The man with the halberd frowned.

He hesitated for a moment, really just a moment.

'Did they come knowing about the ambush?'

There wasn't much time to ponder.

"What's there to think about!"

The brawler moved first, wearing knuckles with flat iron plates on his fists.

Encrid's tactic was to provoke them, anticipating their suspicion and hesitation.

So their reaction was exactly what he had hoped for.

Seeing the brawler step forward, the man with the halberd had no choice.

'We'll kill them.'

The force gathered here was recognized within their local branch of the Black Blade. They were known as the 'Ten Blades' excluding the branch leader.

In this area, when their ten gathered, they didn't think they could be defeated by anyone.

As long as it wasn't a Knight order.

Considering that the Red Cape Knights wouldn't be here in this situation, the man with the halberd was confident of victory.

Yes, he was. He had thought so.

At least until the moment the brawler and the axe-wielding guy exchanged their first blows.

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