A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Finn had discovered traces of the enemy and realized they had split into three groups.

Afterward, she pursued the one she estimated to be the largest.

She was over half a day's distance from Enkrid's Mad Squad.

A distance that was vague if you wanted to call it vague, and reasonable if you wanted to call it reasonable.

If she truly went all out, she could probably close that distance in no time, not half a day.

That is, if this wasn't the Pen-Hanil mountain range.

But this place was practically a cradle of beasts, not unlike the Demon Realm.

Unless someone could mask their presence like a ghost and sprint at full speed, half a day's distance was going to stay half a day's distance.

'This is bad. Just bad.'

Was it bad luck? Or had she let her guard down?

Either way, that's how it had to be seen.

If Captain Silence saw her later, she'd probably say, "You went out and got yourself killed, huh?"

But Finn didn't have much choice.

Once she saw the tracks, she had to keep an eye on them and pursue.

If the enemy moved through another route and they missed each other, that would be the real problem.

Her mission was to ensure that friend and foe collided here. She had stuck to that mission.

And now it had led to this moment. But thinking back, it felt like the enemy had left those tracks on purpose just to lure her in.

'I got played.'

She didn't want to believe that, but judging from the situation, that was the truth.

The enemy had left just enough of a trail, and Finn had judged she could get through without being spotted by their scout force.

'We're trained by fairies, remember?'

That training was hell. If a fairy told you to run without cracking a single smile, you'd better run, and run hard. You think you wouldn't grow confidence after that?

More than anything, every member of the recon squad, including Finn, had passed Audin's foundational fitness training.

"Audin."

"Gah!"

There was a time when just hearing those three syllables would make her jolt awake.

They had survived those days, and while they didn't treat the Pen-Hanil mountain range like a playground, they could at least run around getting slightly injured rather than dying.

The fact that they weren't dead was an achievement in itself.

Had that confidence influenced her current decisions? Maybe.

But whatever the case, she didn't want to see it as a mistake.

This was her job, and it simply meant she lacked the skill.

And it wasn't even like she'd lost purely because of skill.

The enemy had pushed with numbers, and unless you were one of the select few, sheer headcount could become an overwhelming advantage.

Just because someone was near Enkrid didn't mean they could all push past their limits. In that sense, Finn was a very ordinary person.

At least, that's how she saw herself.

Of course, by normal standards, she was still a highly skilled soldier and a fierce ranger.

'I thought I was being careful.'

She felt the urge to smack her lips.

Knowing her limits, she didn't do the kind of crazy stunts Enkrid did.

Finn was a normal person—she wouldn't charge at the enemy with nothing but a sword, swearing to guard someone's back.

Behind her was a slanted slope, ahead a small clearing, tall trees to either side, and above her, a canopy of conifer trees.

Among the sharp-needled trees, a few broad-leaved ones stood out.

Sunlight filtered through, lighting up the clearing and the surrounding area.

It was early morning. The deep-blue dawn had passed, and the rising sun now lit the area.

Even if people said the Pen-Hanil range was cursed, life still thrived here.

Trees grew, insects buzzed, and mountain birds chirped.

While walking through the forest, you'd often hear the cries of insects or birds.

And then—those sounds suddenly cut off.

That told Finn that the situation had turned into something exactly like what a beast would recognize.

She lowered her posture beneath the shadow of a tree opposite the sunlight.

If you didn't look closely, you wouldn't even notice her.

'Is this where I die?'

She wondered, pulling her chin in and slowly exhaling and inhaling.

She hadn't been running from the start, so she wasn't out of breath.

Thanks to training, she had learned how fast she could walk without gasping.

Her breath felt a little warm as she exhaled deeply, but unless there was a fairy with eyes that could detect heat, there was no reason her position should be compromised.

Her boots were padded with cotton, so her steps made almost no sound.

They didn't have many people, either, so there was no fuss.

Just ten in total, and she had sent three to the rear.

Three up front, four in the middle, three in the back.

With such a stretched formation, only the front three were really exposed.

Finn, leading the front, raised a fist.

The two subordinates who saw the hand signal stopped and held their breath just like her.

That had been just a moment ago—when she halted her squad and started thinking.

Finn considered two possible scenarios.

One: They face off here and then part ways.

If the enemy didn't want to stir up trouble and risk alerting the main friendly force trailing behind, that might happen.

Two: A fight breaks out immediately.

Neither side expected to meet here, but they'd test the waters and then charge.

But both of Finn's assumptions were off the mark.

The enemy was already prepared.

Abnaier hadn't just sent knights to this place.

He hadn't only gained that one genius beastman through his interracial unification policy.

Kraiss had predicted many things, but he wasn't a god.

There was no way he could foresee the existence of an entirely unknown unit.

And of course, you couldn't predict every single thing that might happen on the battlefield.

In such cases, you just had to assess and handle it on the spot.

Swishhh.

The sound came from the grass rustling across the clearing and to either side.

Grass grown to just the right height had hidden the allies' bodies until now, but now it seemed to serve as a corridor for the enemy's movement.

The shifting grass alone was enough to shake Finn's focus.

'Too many.'

It was impossible to estimate the enemy's numbers.

There were more than she'd expected.

'They're surrounding us.'

She had to choose again.

If she stalled for time, the seven behind might escape.

But she would die. No doubt about it.

If she fought head-on? Then they'd all die.

Finn was a soldier. She had lived by the blade.

She had always accepted that death like this would come someday.

Back when she served as a recon leader at the Cross Guard—

Were there no casualties? Of course there were.

This time, it was simply her turn.

Finn gave a hand signal.

She would buy time—so retreat.

Like any unit, following orders to the letter was a virtue.

That's how Finn saw it.

Peeep.

But then a friendly signal rang out.

A bird-like whistle.

Her lieutenant could mimic that sound so well even birds got confused.

As if replying to the signal, whistles echoed from the back as well.

"You insane?!"

Finn growled.

Now that they'd used the whistle, adding words didn't make it any worse.

Their exact position had been revealed to the enemy.

Rustle.

The enemies in the grass raised their /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ heads.

Finn frowned, then relaxed her expression.

Silence had said something once:

"You can fight anyone, but if you run into a pack of fairies in the forest, don't fight. It's a meaningless death."

That memory came rushing back.

No wonder they were unnaturally good at hiding their presence.

"A meaningless death, huh."

Finn muttered and swept her gaze side to side.

Judging the numbers, there were at least twenty.

Maybe even over twenty-five.

"We don't have a choice, do we."

Her lieutenant behind her spoke.

Probably meant: how could we abandon our captain and run?

"Shut up. That's insubordination. I'll execute you on the spot."

"We're gonna die anyway."

Bold bastards.

Even normally, they were far too good at talking.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"I'm not going down alone."

Finn spoke as she lowered her left hand. The recon squad members, now all assembled, mirrored her by lowering their left hands as well.

'If the enemy came at us with full force, then we should've done the same.'

Maybe they should've brought the entire force, not just a recon squad?

That thought flickered through her mind, but it was just idle noise.

The dead don't eat bread.

There are times when you simply have to let the past be the past.

Regretting stepping into the water while the tide's already crashing in—that was just idiotic.

The skin of the fairy emerging from the tall grass was blue, and her hair shimmered with a bluish hue.

Just as humans had pale or dark skin, fairies had their own variants.

This one was among them. She was of the Moonlight Fairy Tribe.

"Do they understand speech?"

"They don't."

The voice came from slightly above.

When she lifted her eyes a bit, she saw a human.

A woman crouched on a tree branch, a leather quiver slung on her back.

She balanced so well on the branch it looked as if she were standing flat on the ground.

She had a small frame but held a longbow that didn't suit her body. Even at a glance, she was no amateur.

As those few words were exchanged, the fairies—each holding a curved blade like a crescent moon—began to rise and approach one by one.

Finn and her subordinates were the type to laugh even when facing ghouls, but this felt different.

The fairies' eyes held no emotion, and their footsteps made no sound.

They looked like ghosts rising from the dead.

They couldn't just cower and die without a fight.

Finn didn't show her fear, but even she felt a chill.

'I left the markers behind.'

She had at least done her job.

Even if she died, the enemy's position had been marked.

She let out a slow breath.

Finn knew the importance of a first strike.

Whether ghost or not, the one who struck first always had the advantage—that was an ancient truth.

"So you can talk, huh?"

Finn extended her left hand forward.

Seeing that signal, the rest of the recon squad lined up to her left and right and mimicked her motion.

"You came too close. You all."

With Finn's words, a metallic twang echoed from under the armor covering her left hand.

Pibibibing!

It was gear issued to every recon soldier.

They had taken it from bandits they'd encountered before, and Kraiss had improved the design.

A tiny crossbow mounted on the back of the hand.

The bolts—each a palm's length—whistled through the air, hitting six of the fairies who had been silently approaching like ghosts.

There were ten bolts in total, but since no targets had been assigned in advance, some had doubled up.

Even as they died, the fairies didn't scream.

Only a faint croak escaped them.

That too was eerie—but regardless, the fight had begun.

"A last gasp."

The voice came again from the tree.

At the same time, the fairies began to charge.

Pit-pit—that was the sound of them moving.

Those blue ghost-like figures swung their blades.

Half-moon shapes turned into full moons above them, raining down like falling stars.

The wide, curved blades came down hard, aiming straight for Finn's head.

Finn wore an open-faced helmet to better hear sounds.

But just because she had a helmet didn't mean she wanted to test whether it was tougher than the enemy's weapon.

She fell backward and rolled.

"Survive on your own!"

"Ahk!"

Her subordinates responded with a chant they had learned during basic training.

Even after that, Finn didn't hold back in the fight.

She had told them to survive on their own, but whenever one was in danger, she charged in headfirst.

'I'm just an ordinary person.'

This was too much.

'I'm not Enkrid.'

Even so, her body moved on its own.

Thud!

She parried a blade with her shortsword and pushed back with strength.

In raw power, Finn had the upper hand.

But that curved blade was a problem.

It was built to deflect and absorb most incoming attacks.

Enkrid was behind them—but still half a day's distance away.

Even if he was following, it wouldn't be now.

This was the Pen-Hanil mountain range.

Even Silence couldn't close a half-day gap instantly here.

If her subordinates had really pulled back earlier, they would've survived.

"So are you giving up?"

It was as if Enkrid were asking from somewhere.

'Fuck no.'

Finn answered silently and closed in on the enemy who had just grazed her shoulder.

She drove her sword into their abdomen and pulled it out.

Crunch.

The fairy wore armor made of wood.

It was stiff. That made stabbing in and pulling out difficult.

But she'd made a proper hole in its gut. That one was dead.

As blood gushed from the open wound, the fairy's eyes lost focus.

The body crumpled forward like a pile of hay.

Finn raised her sword again.

In exchange for that one kill, her pauldron had been half-sliced, and her shoulder burned with pain.

'Did I get cut deep?'

She moved her left arm and felt a sting.

Still, it moved.

'That's good enough.'

Finn steadied herself again.

Her sword was what they called a Guard Sword—broad-bladed and slightly short in length.

And after all that fighting, she'd only taken down one.

Each of them was no pushover.

"Come on then. Bring it."

She took two cautious steps back, trying to press her back to a tree—but the killing intent behind her made her roll forward instantly.

Whoosh!

Crazy fairy bitch.

Blue flashes shimmered between the trees.

Even fighting them head-on was tough, but now they were hiding and attacking like real ghosts.

If she lost track of them, blades came flying out of nowhere.

"I told you it's not gonna work."

The small-framed woman on the tree spoke.

"You just wait. You're next, after these ones."

Finn bluffed.

No one here believed that for a second.

"Whatever."

The woman on the tree replied.

And again, the fairies' ambush, their blades, Finn's resistance, and the squad's desperate battle resumed.

Thud!

She swung her blade, knocked theirs aside, and threw daggers at exposed enemies.

Then she rolled on the ground and saw the remaining squad members.

How lucky could they be?

Not one had died.

They were all bleeding and exhausted, but intact.

Then she suddenly noticed how bright the sunlight was.

Why was the sky so clear, and the sun so warm?

Was it a perfect day to die?

"You won't die."

Finn said it again—something no one would believe.

"Obviously."

A voice replied.

It wasn't her subordinate.

It came with no presence, no sound.

Finn looked up.

The voice had come from above her head.

But the speaker was already behind her, to the right.

The man who approached had reddish-brown hair.

Twin short swords in his hands dripped blood.

Fairy or human—blood was always red.

That blood was vividly, unmistakably red.

It wasn't luck that had kept everyone, Finn included, alive.

While Finn had been cornered and fighting with everything she had, someone had bitten into the fairies' rear.

Silently, without a trace.

"To fight fairies, you'd need to be at least a first-rate assassin to even stand a chance.

Even then, fighting a group of fairies is reckless."

Silence had said that once.

And had added:

"But I suppose there are always those who defy everything I say."

Jaxon Bensino.

The Master of Dawn's Dew.

The master of Geor Dagger.

Unrivaled in the current continent's assassin world.

He had received the commander's order to rendezvous with Finn.

And he had carried out the prior order he received before deployment as well.

"No one dies on this battlefield."

That's what Enkrid had said.

And Jaxon intended to make sure of it.