A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 758

Chapter 758

“I was going to leave regardless. What?”
Rem grit his teeth, spinning on his heel. From every angle, beasts with salivating jaws were closing in on the settlement. In a sense, the situation was efficient—the need to hunt down individual monsters or predators one by one had vanished. Even the nomadic species that had been missing for some time were now emerging.
Keeaaa—!
A harpy with powerful eagle plumage and a robust torso beat her wings in the distant sky. She was a wandering terror identified as a minion of Drmul. These creatures typically led squads of ten, and every member was capable of launching strikes of invisible force. Since the commander was a harpy, the entire flock shared her lineage.
Eleven monsters, all capable of firing pressurized, unseen blades of gale throughout the night.
Drrrr…
Abruptly, the earth began a light rhythmic quaking. It mimicked the onset of a tremor, yet it was something else. It was the resonance—or rather, the physical pressure—of numerous massive entities sprinting forward. It was a specific vibration known only to those with a history on the front lines.
Squinting into the distance, Enkrid identified a pack of rhino beasts, their jagged horns protruding from their muzzles. These weren’t typical animals—they were beings that had triggered latent abilities, now emerging from the Demon Realm in pursuit of a grand feast.
Despite the rising grit and the shaking ground, they didn’t look like simple monsters. Judging by their frantic pace, they were likely clashing with one another during the charge—brawling over the choicest kills was a basic drive, after all.
Enkrid had predicted this exact turn of events. Because of that, a grin touched his lips. He finally spoke.
“A celebration.”
Beside him, the parasite—or more accurately, the demon—widened her eyes in disbelief at his choice of words. A celebration? Did he mean a massacre where they would all be slaughtered while he stood by?
Any onlooker might have reached that conclusion. Granted, the dark-haired warrior had taken down a Minotaur—but this scale was different. They no longer resided under the umbrella of the Demon God’s protection. The barrier that had once sheltered them was gone. Total annihilation seemed certain.
The people who had fought tooth and nail for every breath would now swallow misery and breathe out ruin.
“Aaaaah!”
A villager let out a cry—a sound caught between a gasp and a wail. Triggered by that noise, the rest of the crowd followed suit.
Lua Gharne took action.
She strode forward and grabbed the shrieking man by his throat.
“Gkk!”
The man’s breath hitched as Lua Gharne, her face reddening with effort, bellowed with a volume that threatened to shatter ears.
“BARTENDER—!”
The massive shout forced everyone to turn. Even members of the Mad Order of Knights shifted their gaze toward her. The impact of the scream was total. All talking stopped. She had their focus. Frokk’s mouth moved.
“Say it again.”
Though Lua Gharne belonged to the Frokk, she occasionally identified as an artist. She had once traveled with a theater group. She understood exactly what kind of rallying cry was required for this moment.
“Demon—”
“…Eh?”
“Knight.”
In that instant, invisible razors of wind began to pour from the clouds.
Shhhhhhhk.
The sound was audible, but the source was hidden. That lack of visibility turned the noise into a concentrated form of dread.
Rem swung his heavy axe with a casual grace, intercepting the strikes. As he struck, a sharp fracturing sound echoed.
Clang!
It sounded like a glass sphere being crushed by a hammer.
“So you want to play games from the sky, do you?”
Rem smirked as he spoke. The foes wanted to rain projectiles from a distance?
He didn’t need to reach for a mechanical launcher—known as a “slingstaff” in the central lands and a “muritmae” in the western regions.
Rem’s left hand gave a slight twitch. To the untrained eye, that was all it was. But to warriors like Enkrid, whose visual processing could track high-speed motion—the reality was far different.
Rem snatched the axe hanging at his hip with his left hand and launched it toward the heavens. It was even faster than the throw he had directed at Jaxon previously. The spinning weapon moved swifter than a hawk diving for its dinner.
BOOM!
The sound of broken air boomed. The axe buried itself squarely in the harpy commander’s skull.
Her head disintegrated, and her form was propelled even higher. From the ground, it appeared as though an invisible hand had gripped her by the throat and yanked her upward.
Suddenly, a dark mist of blood rained down. Rem took a few steps back to keep his clothes clean.
The harpy, which was the size of a grizzly, slammed into the dirt. Her limbs twitched a few times before going still.
“Nice way to get the blood flowing.”
Rem grumbled, observing the result.
Enkrid had meticulously analyzed every aspect of Rem’s move. His battle intuition—which was nearing the realm of the divine—allowed him to grasp what Rem had accomplished.
He had condensed ritual energy to boost his muscular output in a single heartbeat.
He had repositioned himself into the perfect stance to create the ideal throwing arc just before the release.
It was only a few strides, but it was enough to calculate a mental path aimed straight for the harpy’s head.
Then, he activated the ritual and let fly.
Somewhere in that motion, precision explosions fueled by Will were triggered. Finally, he delicately managed the ritual energy to absorb the kickback from the Will’s violent discharge.
He used exactly the amount required, and not a drop more.
It was the same way Lynox from Zaun had demonstrated Will with flawless accuracy. Rem had performed it as if it were breathing.
Calling him a freak didn’t do the man justice.
As Enkrid improved, so did the incredible talents surrounding him. He felt he could match them today—but what about a few months from now? It was impossible to predict.
That was the gap between a prodigy and the common man. Between the gifted and the fool.
Even with a limitless supply of Will, I only gain this much ground.
If one wondered if that realization filled him with bitterness—it didn’t.
It was marvelous. It was exhilarating. A surge of pure electricity rushed through his frame. He had experienced this before—but it felt brand new every time.
“This is fantastic.”
The remark escaped his lips.
To the nearby villagers, however, he seemed like a madman. Claiming it was “fantastic” while predators and monsters were closing in to kill them?
Was the Demon God currently piloting this man’s shell?
Even if that wasn’t the case, everyone present now understood one thing—this individual was as terrifying as any deity of ruin.
Wait, what had the Frokk yelled before?
A few townspeople remembered and began to scream in unison.
“Demon—”
“Knight!”
The volume was low at first. But the intensity grew. Soon, every resident was bellowing with fervor.
“DEMON—!”
“KNIGHT!”
Hundreds of lungs joined in that single roar. There was raw power in it. More than the speech of a lone leader—there was weight in hundreds of people screaming the same words.
Enkrid glanced back. He had assumed it was just one of Frokk’s irritating pranks. But for Lua Gharne, no title was more appropriate.
“Demon”—it was a name that fit him like a glove.
Just look at him, drawing in a Balrog simply by being present.
“You really won’t let me have a moment of peace, will you?”
Even Shinar moved to the front.
“Pell, Rophod, get to work.”
Enkrid barked the order as he sprinted, and the two warriors reacted.
Roman had finally realized the truth. Even with monsters and beasts flooding in from every direction—this wasn’t a tragedy.
Why?
Because every person here… was a monster themselves.
Ragna moved to the flank, his blade unsheathed. His heavy sword shimmered in the gloom like a sun that defied the moon, standing tall in the blackness.
Roman, who had just finished being lectured by Rophod, fell in beside him.
Dudududu.
For the moment, the thundering rhino beasts were the primary threat.
Audin and Teresa stepped out to meet them.
“Let’s shove them back!”
Audin yelled, seizing the horns of a charging beast with both hands—and then he simply tossed it aside.
What? How is that physically possible?
Even Oara couldn’t have managed that if she were still breathing.
He had always believed Audin’s talent lay in sacred power—but the man hadn’t even used it. This was a combination of raw physical power and mastered mechanics.
Under Audin’s massive, heavy feet, the soil buckled, carving a deep arc. His limbs had turned into unyielding steel beams, redirecting the charging rhino beast as if it were a toy.
BOOM!
A massive crack echoed—like a bolt of lightning hitting a stone. The noise was so sharp it made the ears throb.
The rhino beast fell over, flattening several smaller monsters under its bulk. Next to him, the half-giant woman performed a similar miracle. However, she utilized a shield—absorbing the impact of the beast’s charge and pushing it away. Her leg drew a wide semi-circle on the earth, a movement meant to bleed off momentum.
Roman, even without being a master, was still a high-level warrior. He could recognize the sheer impossibility of those two feats.
Monsters!
The realization surged within him.
And then, the most terrifying monster of all stepped forward.
In the dead of night, his cloak seemed to be made of pure shadow. Roman knew that during the day, it was actually a dark forest green.
Flaaaap!
As he bolted forward, the cloak snapped like a war flag. It had somehow lengthened into a trailing, ribbon-like form, resembling a long scarf.
It trailed behind him—a line of ink against the dark.
“Assimilation!”
He yelled a word that made no sense and swung his blade.
A ghoul, using camouflage to hide in the brush, was split perfectly in two right in front of him.
When did he even see it—?
It was a creature that could turn invisible. And he had cut it down. Dark ichor and guts sprayed the ground—only to be instantly swallowed by the hungry shadows.
“DEMON—!”
“KNIGHT!”
The chant continued from the rear as Frokk led the townspeople in another round. The shout seemed to call forth the spirit of madness.
Roman embraced the feeling. With that, a fire-like passion surged through him—a desperate need to be part of the chaos.
Like dropping a match in dry grass.
“UWOOOOHHH! MAKE WAY FOR ROMAN OF OARA!”
Swept up in the adrenaline, Roman drove his greatsword forward.
CRACK!
A giant troll’s forehead met the edge of his steel.
“UWOOOH!”
With a grunt, he wrenched his sword upward with everything he had. The troll’s cranium split open. Regardless of how fast its healing was—if the brain was exposed, the fight was done.
Watch me! I am Roman of Oara!
His expression said it all.
Then, a blur passed him, and a steady voice dampened his excitement.
“No. You’re over-committing your strength. Keep your joints loose—apply force only at the moment of impact, and relax when you pull back.”
“If talking fixed bad form, I’d be a god by now. Leave him. If he wants to die swinging like a child, that’s his business.”
Another voice cut in. The first belonged to Rophod. The second was Pell.
As they sprinted, Rophod answered.
“I’m advising him so he stays alive.”
“And I’m telling you he won’t listen.”
“Maybe because you have a dog-faced demon’s anatomy stuck in your ear. But this guy? He isn’t like you.”
“Hey! You’re the one who said swearing makes a man sound low-class, remember?”
Rophod flinched for a second. He had ended up sounding exactly like Pell.
They had spent far too much time in each other’s company. Perhaps he was beginning to mirror him.
The thought made him even more frustrated.
Time to see who was superior.
“Whoever gets the most kills—”
“Done.”
Before Rophod could finish the challenge, Pell agreed. The two veered off in opposite directions. Creatures far more lethal than the troll Roman had killed were everywhere. It was the perfect stage for a contest.
Roman could see the signs as well.
Rustle! A few pebbles bounced off the ground.
BOOM!
A geyser of dirt and stone exploded upward.
A worm!
An enormous worm-like monster tore through the surface—thick enough to crush a bear in its coils.
“That one’s mine!”
Pell called it.
He leapt through the air, tucking his body into a tight spin, and lashed out with his sword.
It was an aerial maneuver Roman wouldn’t even dream of trying.
The worm writhed, its head cleaved open—but Pell didn’t stop there. He shredded the creature into segments.
His relaxed swings were just as deadly and precise as someone else’s life-or-death strike.
A sword style so deeply practiced it was performed by the body itself.
Roman felt the weight of that truth more clearly than ever.
Near the dying worm, five ghouls rushed forward, mouths dripping.
Rophod blocked their path.
He systematically took their heads off, one after another.
The entire sequence looked so effortless, so destined. But upon closer inspection—it was anything but.
Like a fly caught in a spider’s silk.
That was the feeling it gave. He restricted their paths, and when the moment was right, he finished them without hesitation.
After that, Roman lost the ability to watch anyone else.
He had to move—quickly. Too many enemies were pouring in.
It had begun with harpies. Now it was ghouls, dog-faced demons, ogres, trolls, armored skeletons, plague maidens, and toxic-breathing horrors…
But honestly, it wasn’t that bad.
That was what he told himself.
What’s the big deal about fighting for two nights straight?
The villagers who had been chanting “Demon-Knight” had long ago retreated to their shelters.
Lua Gharne had seen to it—there was no reason to leave them in the line of fire.
Later, Lua Gharne joined the fray herself. She plugged the leaks in the village square, overseeing the defense.
Her strategic blade-work, the foundation for Enkrid’s own style, was just as effective for leading a battle as it was for fighting one.
And so, forty-eight hours passed.
Roman gazed out across the remains of the monsters and beasts.
It wasn’t a figure of speech.
He was staring at a literal mountain of the dead.