A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

'I should have dodged there.'

Encrid mulled over yesterday's events that existed only for him.

'No, dodging wasn't the problem. I was too fixated on landing a single strike.'

Dodge what needs to be dodged, strike what needs to be struck.

Hadn't he heard time and again how crucial split-second decisions were?

From countless swordsmanship instructors, and from Rem as well.

'What's the use of The Heart of the Beast if you can't make the right choices? One wrong choice, and you're dead.'

It felt as if Rem was standing next to him, snickering.

If that bastard Rem knew, he'd definitely say that.

Encrid mulled over the moment again and again.

'Today, a slightly different route.'

He changed his path every day. It was a privilege of someone who repeated the same day.

'We're going to catch the enemy scouts beyond this grass field. How about it?'

As always, the scout squad leader was leading them all into ruin.

He had no intention of stopping him.

No, Encrid knew it was pointless to change the scouting route.

No matter which different route they took, it was the same.

'The area is already full of ambushed troops.'

The enemy filled the tall grass field.

If he wanted to survive, the best option was to return to where he had woken up.

'But that's not possible.'

Doing so would be disobeying orders.

Disobeying orders could lead to summary execution in severe cases.

So should he desert and leave these nine behind?

Should he survive by doing that?

'Is that why I learned the sword?'

Knight, general, hero.

Even now, he swung his sword, dreaming of such things.

But knowing they'd all be annihilated and just leaving them behind—was that the answer?

Was that really the best option?

'No.'

Everyone has something they can't compromise on.

Encrid knows he is neither a good person nor a saint.

But this was something he couldn't compromise on.

Some would call it conviction.

Some would call it stubbornness.

And Encrid didn't care what others thought.

'It's what I've decided.'

If he had lived by the standards set by others, he would have long since given up on everything and taken a leisurely position in a village vigilante group.

He discarded the option of fleeing.

The goal was to find a way to escape today beyond that.

He fought again. He shed blood and killed the enemy. This time, his sword broke while using it as a shield.

He was struck on the head by a spear shaft.

The world spun around.

Naturally, death followed.

Whether it was the spear blade piercing his chest or the blow to his head that caused his death, he wasn't exactly sure.

The cycle repeated again.

He died and died again.

By repeatedly experiencing life-and-death battles, he digested what he had learned in practice.

He revisited what he already knew.

Throughout all that time, Encrid kept only two things in his mind.

One was how to fight better.

The other was how to escape this today.

Moving toward tomorrow.

Encrid knew that relentless effort was necessary for that moment.

Because he had survived two of today's this way.

But this time, things were a bit different.

'I can't see a way.'

Everywhere he went was full of enemies.

Why they had so many troops ambushed in a humid, muddy land full of grasshoppers, locusts, and tall grass blocking their view, he couldn't understand.

'You damn bastards.'

Moreover, they are all properly trained soldiers.

They are not some ragtag mercenaries fighting for money.

They are not conscripts dragged out unwillingly.

They are all salaried soldiers.

And some even consider these soldiers to be elite troops.

On a large-scale battlefield, 'elite' might mean something different.

But in this kind of battlefield, professional soldiers like these are considered elite troops.

If soldiers who practice fighting, swinging their spears to fill their bellies, aren't considered elite, then what soldiers can be called elite?

'This is troublesome.'

In a surprise attack, he could kill three or four of them.

But more than that would be impossible.

Especially with a group of soldiers armed with crossbows behind him, fighting while fleeing was even more out of the question.

'The strength to kill them all.'

Would it be possible if he repeated this today countless times?

To gain that kind of strength?

No, it's not possible.

He knew because he had tried.

Why did he try to move on to tomorrow by surpassing the spearman the first time he repeated today?

'There are limits to what you can learn within a stagnant time.'

Encrid knew himself well. To improve his skills and feel the joy of growth, he needed a good teacher and opportunity.

But that didn't mean he was wasting the repeated 'today'.

He trained his hearing, practiced swordsmanship, and reviewed his battles.

He repeated and repeated.

His growth was slow, but continuous.

"I'm confident in archery, but my nerves get the best of me, and my hands tremble in the chaos of battle."

Enri said beside him. It was something he had heard a few times.

He claimed to have small nerves but was quite skilled with a bow.

"Can you hit an apple placed on a head from a hundred paces away?""

To lighten the mood, he made a joke.

"Hundred paces is too far, but within thirty paces, I can give it a try. If you put an apple on the scout squad leader's head, I'll take a shot at it."

"Too bad, we don't have an apple."

"Indeed, that's a shame."

Enri knew how to enjoy a joke.

"But I'm quite confident within thirty paces. Maybe not hitting an apple on the head, but hitting the head itself."

Enri added, his face quite serious.

"If you can hit heads with your arrows, you could probably take out ten of the enemy."

Encrid said, glancing at Enri's quiver.

The flat leather quiver on his waist held about ten arrows.

To keep it from shaking, leather straps connected the quiver to his thigh and waist, binding the ten arrows together with another strap.

When the strap was loosened later, it would be easy to draw the arrows.

True to his background as a plains hunter, Enri seemed proficient in handling his bow and arrows.

"Hey. What are you laughing about? We're on a scouting mission. Seriously, tsk."

The scout squad leader glared and clicked his tongue.

Of course, Encrid didn't care.

In this repeated 'today', the squad leader's interjections were a common occurrence.

'It would be nice to start by taking a few out with arrows.'

The tough-looking soldier walking behind the squad leader signaled to Encrid with a glance.

It seemed to mean not to respond and to just stay quiet.

Same as before.

There was no need to make a fuss, so there was nothing to argue about.

'Then it'll be easier to launch a surprise attack from here.'

In Encrid's mind, the virtual battle continued. The information gathered from the repeated 'today' allowed him to vividly visualize a plausible battle in his head.

In the end, he dies. In most cases, he will die.

Even if there is a significant skill gap, the difference in numbers is too great.

Unless their side had the advantage in armament.

'Which they don't.'

What would Rem have done?

There would be no hesitation. He would have gone in with two axes in hand and swung them fiercely.

Even with Rem's skills, he wouldn't be able to kill all hundred of them.

But he could kill enough and then escape.

He was that agile and had exceptional skills.

'It's funny that such a guy is just a soldier.'

Rem himself didn't seem to have any complaints.

In some ways, it seemed like Encrid was the only one with ambitions in their troublesome squad.

It seemed like he was the only one who wanted to be more than just a squad leader.

What's the point of thinking about a squad member who isn't here?

Encrid changed his line of thought.

A small snake slithered quickly through the short grass.

The grass underfoot was growing taller.

It was a sign they were approaching the tall grass field.

'I'm not Rem.'

He pictured the virtual battle in his head again. A thought struck him.

'How skilled is the scout squad leader?'

Until now, he had been too preoccupied to properly assess.

He just recognized that the leader wasn't bad.

The scout squad leader, the tough-looking soldier, and Enri.

And the rest of the scout squad.

His thoughts followed one after another, leading to a conclusion.

"I don't need to protect them."

"…What?"

Enri asked, responding to the muttered words that escaped his lips.

"Nothing."

He had been stupid. Until now, Encrid had tried to get through this alone.

He fought with the idea of protecting everyone by himself, reacting passively when encountering the enemy.

Thus, he thought he had tried every possible means, but one remained.

A means to completely change the game.

Crack.

Encrid twisted his neck from side to side.

There was still some time before they reached the grass field.

Striding forward, Encrid grabbed the shoulder of the tough-looking soldier and pulled him back.

"Huh?"

The soldier reflexively tensed up.

"What's this about?"

"You glared at me earlier, didn't you?"

He knew. It wasn't a glare but a look asking for understanding.

But when your face is your weapon, just looking can seem like glaring.

"No, hey, that's not—"

"Why is your tongue so long?"

Wham!

Encrid swung his fist. The tough-looking soldier tilted his head back to dodge it.

"…Are you crazy?"

The scout squad leader asked in bewilderment from the front.

"Come on."

Encrid ignored him and kicked at the soldier's ankle. The tough-looking soldier dodged it too, frowning.

"You seemed like a perceptive guy."

"Exactly, I could read your annoying look."

Rem had once said that Encrid might be the best in the continent at getting under people's skin with words.

"Come on, fight me, you ugly bastard."

Indeed, just a few words had turned the seasoned soldier's face red.

"Fine, you're gonna get it now."

Encrid fought him.

Instead of drawing his sword, he used his fists as blades and his feet as blunt weapons.

The exchange of blows was roughly even.

No, to be honest, he was slightly on the losing side.

'He fights well.'

By the kingdom's standards, he was at least at an intermediate level, possibly transitioning to advanced.

"You said you were a low-ranking soldier?"

The soldier, whose face looked like he'd fail at mating repeatedly, spat blood from his split lip end asked.

"That's right. Low-ranking."

"They say you get money and other stuff when you get promoted. Why aren't you trying that?"

Encrid knew it too. He wasn't at a low-ranking soldier's level.

He hadn't been low-ranking since he joined the army.

He just didn't see the need to raise his rank.

He knew his skills and limits clearly.

There was no need to attach the label of a low-ranking soldier.

Of course, things are a bit different now.

If the opportunity arises, he will get promoted.

But it's not his top priority.

The criteria that distinguish third-rate, second-rate, and first-rate mercenaries, or the grades of soldiers here—what's the importance?

"You fight well."

Encrid honestly admired him. Yes, he should at least be this good.

His skills were better than expected.

He's the type to fight even better in actual combat.

If given the proper chance to fight, that is.

"What are you doing?"

The scout squad leader, watching the fight with a face turning red and blue, opened his mouth with a glare. He looked ready to pounce on Encrid at any moment.

Before he could, Encrid spoke first.

"It's a sparring match. Just a good warm-up."

His answer was not just brazen but confidently delivered, causing the scout squad leader to falter, words catching in his throat.

It was understandable that he was at a loss for words.

"Just leave it be. There's no hard feelings."

The tough-looking soldier intervened to calm the scout squad leader.

Encrid shrugged.

"Watch your mouth, troublesome squad leader. You might get in trouble because of that tongue of yours one day."

"That's for me to deal with."

Encrid replied and turned back to his spot.

Next to him, Enri sidled up, eyeing the swollen area near his cheekbone.

"You said you were a low-ranking soldier?"

"That's right."

Was it really that surprising?

Several other scout squad members also glanced at Encrid.

"You fought too well for that."

"I've trained hard."

It wasn't a lie.

He had put in relentless effort through the repeated 'today'.

Despite the commotion, the scout squad leader stubbornly led them into the tall grass field.

There had to be something valuable hidden in there, if not a stash of gold then maybe a lover.

Snap! Crack.

Hearing the same sound, they realized the enemy was approaching again. A new 'today' was beginning. This was the start.

"Enemy."

With his split lip, Encrid spoke and nudged Enri.

"There, shoot."

He wanted to see Enri's archery skills. Enri didn't react immediately.

"What?"

It seemed like he froze at the mention of the enemy.

Afterward, he never really managed to shoot his bow properly. Maybe he did have a small liver, as he claimed, because as soon as the battle started, he was busy scrambling around.

Even so, seeing him shoot a few rapid shots, it was clear his form was solid.

'This won't do as long as I'm just a squad member.'

The others needed to respond to orders, but he hadn't established that kind of relationship with them.

Encrid pondered his position.

'For now, I'll put this aside.'

In the end, he repeated similar events.

Struggling and dying.

Encrid repeated today a few more times.

During that time, he could assess the squad leader's skills.

Not bad.

It was clear he had learned proper swordsmanship somewhere.

"I'll accept your challenge anytime."

After engaging in a few mock fights and letting the leader win a bit, the squad leader seemed quite pleased.

Encrid got familiar with the leader's habits and patterns by sparring with him a few times.

'He lacks real combat experience.'

That was likely why the tough-looking soldier stuck to him like a nanny.

So, what was the relationship between them?

When he casually asked.

"He's the son of someone I respected a long time ago."

The tough-looking soldier blurted out.

This guy was overflowing with loyalty.

His entire presence here was for this kid.

He really was a nanny.

"A noble?"

"Don't you know that fallen nobles aren't treated as nobles?"

The scout squad leader was a fallen noble.

"I see."

They brushed off the rest of the conversation, and Encrid looked at the sun overhead.

The noonday sun.

The wind was moderately cool.

Neither hot nor cold.

All the scouts wore light armor.

It made sense if they needed to move quickly.

Simple equipment and light armor.

That was the basic setup. Encrid reviewed the equipment, skills, and everything they had.

He needed to understand everything else, too. Encrid took in everything he knew about the current situation.

The weather, the wind, the location, the situation, allies, and enemies.

If he could move all these elements actively, it would reveal a way through, like an arrow hitting its mark.

[T/L: Please support me here: /revengerscans ]