A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 709

Chapter 709

“You possess a final opportunity. Pledge your loyalty to me, and I shall provide everything your heart craves.”

The voice originated from an indeterminate location, yet it struck the eardrums of everyone present like a sharp spike. It was the alchemist Drmul who spoke. A faint, sugary aroma drifted through the heavy air—likely the byproduct of a charm or spell—though only Enkrid appeared to catch the scent.

“Surrender, Tempe. As Drmul noted, what hope is there for two bladesmen and a single girl?”

Heskal gestured with his left hand as he spoke. From the shadows behind him, a fresh tide of abominations slithered into view. He then signaled with his right hand, and even more monstrosities surged forward.

‘He is categorizing them by breed.’

Enkrid scanned the horizon from side to side. It was bizarre enough that these creatures moved with the discipline of a professional military, but it was now undeniable that they were organized into specific divisions.

The units responding to Heskal’s left hand were Scalers mounted upon reptilian beasts. These great lizards flicked their tongues amidst the downpour, water cascading down their snouts. Their prominent brow ridges acted as gutters, channeling the rainfall into steady streams that poured off their faces.

In the murky chaos of the deluge, their true colors were difficult to distinguish, though the scales of the lizards—while dark—were not quite a pure black. There were easily more than three hundred of them in that cluster alone.

Despite the lack of saddles or reins, the Scalers sat with perfect stability atop their mounts. There was no sign they would lose their footing or be hindered by sudden maneuvers. Their carapaces looked sturdy; if they lacked the skill to ride and strike simultaneously, they would never have taken the field.

Heskal had turned his back on Zaun, but he hadn’t lost his mind. He remained as calculating as ever.

‘The numbers are overwhelming.’

The monstrous legion was approaching two thousand strong. More dark silhouettes were trudging up the gradual incline. The reinforcements would be endless. Even without the supernatural perception of a knight, that reality was painfully clear.

To Enkrid’s right, another contingent of over three hundred Scalers and Owlbears crouched in anticipation.

‘He concealed them masterfully.’

This was undoubtedly Heskal’s handiwork, given his reputation for controlling the flow of information. Even the forces ascending from the lower ground moved with purpose. Their advance wasn’t a chaotic rush; it was a structured maneuver. Enkrid made a silent vow: if the person responsible for drilling these beasts was human or possessed a reasoning mind, he would interrogate them on their tactics before delivering a killing blow.

It was a staggering display of coordination.

As he observed the dark shapes shifting through the tempest, Enkrid noted that several creatures on the right flank possessed leathery wings resembling those of a bat.

‘Are they capable of flight? Almost certainly.’

Those appendages weren’t just for show. The moment he realized this, the creatures seemed to lose their perceived weight in his mind. If they were built for the sky, their skeletal structures were likely hollow—beasts specifically bred for high-speed aerial strikes.

Enkrid surveyed the entire battlefield, noting the positions of his companions. He measured the gap between his group and the foe and appraised their collective combat potential. Every vital detail for the coming slaughter was etched into his mind.

“The rhythm of war is unpredictable. Even the most elite squads cannot anticipate every fluctuation in a fight. Granted, there are exceptions who can map out every possibility—thinkers like King Eyeball. But even someone of Kraiss’s caliber couldn’t foresee every spark on a battlefield.”

Lua Gharne had imparted these lessons while instructing him in the art of strategy.

“However, in any engagement where I am present, I can achieve something very close to that,” she had claimed with unwavering certainty. “That is the secret to how I dismantle opponents far more powerful than myself.”

That was her signature boldness. Was it a mistake to seek victory through means other than raw physical prowess? In a life-or-death struggle, did such distinctions even hold weight?

“Not in the slightest,” Enkrid whispered, his brain churning through endless variables.

Lua Gharne possessed a talent that was virtually unique on the continent, a fact Enkrid respected more deeply the more he studied under her.

“I am Frokk, a contender who has vowed to transcend my own boundaries.”

Her declarations resonated in his memory. Her approach to warfare began with strategic planning, and those strategies were rooted in misdirection. What Heskal was currently demonstrating followed that same logic. He had masked his true strength. While Drmul’s presence was expected, the rest of this force was an anomaly.

The disciplined formation of these monsters was a total shock. This was no longer a skirmish; it was an army facing a small band. What Zaun required in this moment was a singular, guiding influence to pull their fragmented power together.

“Sense the current. Enki, you are capable of this. You have steered the course of a battle through raw instinct once before, haven’t you?”

He had. He had once halted Azpen’s legion with a barrier that no one could see. On that day, it was pure intuition that dictated his movements. This moment called for that same power.

*KRAANG.*

The heavens roared with divine fury.

*BOOM!*

A bolt of lightning seared the ground. The tempest grew even more violent. Within Enkrid’s heightened perception, even the falling droplets of rain seemed to fracture. One part of his consciousness monitored the immediate environment while the other performed rapid-fire calculations.

This was a specialized application of the Wavebreaker Sword Style. Due to the grueling sessions with Jaxon, his perceptions had evolved beyond the standard five senses. His intuition was now fully engaged. It bypassed his logical thoughts to provide the ultimate solution:

What actions to take.
What rhythm to establish.
How to secure a win.

‘What is the path to victory?’

The enemy had focused on wounding Zaun’s seasoned fighters specifically to shatter their cohesion. Therefore, the immediate requirement was a defensive structure—a shape that could not be broken.

*Hwoo—!*

Enkrid drew a deep, stabilizing breath into his core and then let it out. As the air vibrated through his throat, he infused his words with the weight of his Will.

“GAJU—! TO YOUR CURRENT FLANK—! BE THE WALL—!”

The command was abrupt and forceful. Would they comprehend? If they didn’t, they would speak up. The patriarch of the family did not bother to turn his head. Enkrid could only see the back of the man, but the leader responded through deed rather than speech.

*TONG!*

He drove his blade deep into the earth, carving a definitive line in the mud.

“The storm is gracious enough to fill our trench for us,” he remarked, a grim jest playing on his lips.

The message was clear: he was the bastion, and the scar in the earth was the boundary. No beast present would survive the attempt to cross it. The family head continued to speak without turning.

“WE ARE—”

“ZAUN—!”

“DISCIPLES OF THE BLADE’S JOURNEY—!”

“THE SEEKERS!”

Riley took up the refrain first. Another warrior chimed in. Kata raised her voice, and the nineteen-year-old prodigy of the Zaun line finished the declaration. Regardless of the horrors that approached, they would remain steadfast. This was the fortress the patriarch had built with his presence alone. It exceeded even Enkrid’s expectations.

Yet, it still wasn’t enough. A single man, no matter how great, could not halt a tidal wave of monsters. He was the anchor, but they needed more. Enkrid cupped his hand to his mouth and bellowed:

“Alexandra! Move ten paces to the Patriarch’s right! Lynox! Give me a real showing of your skill!”

“You’re questioning my ability? Drop the attitude, boy. I was drawing blood with a sword while you were still in swaddling clothes.”

“Doing something for a long time doesn’t make you a master of it.”

Enkrid traded a quick barb back. Why exchange jokes while their hearts pounded with adrenaline? It was a trait he shared with the Family Head—using humor before the slaughter to ease the tension in their muscles.

‘To sharpen their spirits.’

It was a calculated move.

‘Now, decipher the enemy’s momentum.’

He had to direct it—to lashing the battlefield into a shape of his own making. Enkrid’s gut instinct flared like a lightning strike in his mind.

“Anahera! Give them everything you have!”

With Enkrid’s shout, the mental chains holding back the Beast of Red Blood snapped.

“Hahaha!”

Under normal circumstances, Anahera suppressed her primal giant traits. Had she not, she would have accidentally crushed those around her long ago. But here, surrounded by a sea of foes, there was no reason to hold back.

*THUD! THUD! THUD!*

The giantess sprinted forward, her heavy footfalls churning the sodden ground. Arcs of mud sprayed into the air with every stride. As the debris fell back to the earth, Anahera slammed into the enemy’s vanguard. She crashed directly into the center of the lizard cavalry. To an observer, it looked like a lone, crazed titan throwing herself into an entire legion.

“Stop her!” a voice from Heskal’s side commanded.

A volley of arrows hissed through the air. These weren’t high-arcing shots; they were flat, lethal trajectories fired by hidden marksmen at close range.

*Thwick! Pluck! Tong!*

Several shafts skidded off her dense skin. One hit her forehead but was deflected by her iron helm. Only a single arrow managed to bite into her shoulder, and she shook it loose almost immediately. Her incredibly resilient hide acted as natural armor. Those who had been holed up in Zaun had failed to account for that.

Enkrid understood the threat: The Hunter’s Village was the opposition. Among them, there were surely masters of the bow. But could even the best of them truly find purchase in the flesh of a giant? Many archers froze mid-shot, a wave of hesitation rippling through the enemy.

Anahera reached the first Scaler. The lizard mount snapped its jaws, exposing rows of jagged teeth. The rider flipped his spear and lunged with the dark-tipped point. Enkrid couldn’t see her expression, but he knew Anahera was grinning as she swung her massive blade. She was a giant, yes, but she never lost sight of the fact that she was a blade of Zaun.

What she unleashed was the family’s lethal art.

*FWOOOOOM.*

Her left foot anchored into the mud. With a massive heave, she brought her sword down in a vertical arc powered by her Will. It was a crushing, crescent-shaped strike.

*CRAAACK!*

The combination of titanic strength and focused Will sheared through both the lizard and the rider in a single motion.

*SPLOOSH!*

Dark ichor sprayed across her face, only to be instantly sluiced away by the rain.

“SLAY THEM ALL!” the giantess screamed at the thundering sky.

Was this all choreographed? No. Enkrid was simply riding the wave of his own intuition.

“Kato! Move in and cover Anahera’s blind spots!”

Enkrid scanned the field again. Monsters were now throwing themselves at the Family Head.

‘If I were in Heskal’s position, I would use the beasts to exhaust us first.’

It was a strategy a human commander couldn’t easily justify with their own men, but for a swarm of monsters, it was the logical choice. These creatures felt no fear. Using them to drain the defenders’ stamina was a winning move.

Was this part of Enkrid’s foresight? Not exactly. He had positioned the “wall” on a gut feeling—simply to keep his people alive.

Scalers on lizards, red scales clashing with black. Owlbears with metallic plumage. Sky-beasts circling above. The monsters pressed forward in tight ranks. They were met by only three defenders: The Patriarch, Alexandra, and Lynox.

Only three? No—three was more than enough. Knights are living catastrophes; they can reap thousands. These three were capable of the same.

Anahera was a whirlwind of destruction. Kato shadowed her, protecting her rear. Enkrid let them be. They weren’t designed for rigid formation fighting. Anahera needed the freedom to let her instincts drive her power.

‘Kato is a walking arsenal.’

He thrived when surrounded. His entire history was built on fighting off mobs as he traveled between settlements. He had refined his style specifically for these odds. Some warriors are built for the training hall, others for the chaos of the pit. Kato belonged to the pit.

Enkrid sent them out first to shatter the enemy’s momentum. Pre-empting a charge always ruins the coordination of the attacker, even if that attacker is a legion of monsters. The front lines were now a tangled mess of blood and steel.

Enkrid’s gambit was paying off. Heskal began to pull back his unengaged units, attempting to reorganize and probe the flanks.

‘He is perceptive.’

Indeed, Heskal was bright. Enkrid felt that truth once more. But Heskal was a man of logic and planning. Enkrid was a creature of intuition. There was no cause for alarm. If the enemy figured out the intent, you simply shifted to the next instinctive response.

The enemy’s strategy was obvious: “Our side fights as individuals. Theirs fights as a machine.”

Zaun had buried many of its legends. But standing in the gap now was a leader who had risen from the filth, tempered by the endless carnage of the Border Guard. A man who had been schooled in the ways of war by the challenger Frokk—Lua Gharne.