A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 764

Chapter 764

Neither Rem nor Ragna truly intended to come to blows. Had they actually tried, Enkrid would have stepped in to halt them immediately.

“The scent of the Demon Realm, I see.”

Rem remarked as he observed Ragna. Having spent his youth scouring the western reaches of the Demon Realm, this environment didn’t bother him at all. Spell power was particularly effective at resisting such oppressive and lethal surroundings. Essentially, the atmosphere was a form of persistent hex.

By circulating his internal energy and projecting it outward, Rem could overwrite the local area with his own presence. It was a method that was simultaneously simple and grueling—exhaling spell power to reshape the toxic air into something breathable. It was a feat of technique that pure willpower alone couldn’t achieve. This allowed him to operate at near-peak capacity even within these corrupted lands. The trade-off was a constant drain on his reserves, limiting his ability to cast high-tier magic, but it was a necessary compromise.

“Hmph.”

Ragna was employing his own solution. His blade, Sunrise, functioned as both an inscribed and enchanted tool. The consciousness residing within Sunrise resonated with Ragna’s own spirit, physically repelling the miasma. While it didn’t cleanse the forest, it provided a bubble of safety for him to maneuver. In truth, even this was a luxury; Ragna was already recalibrating his physical senses to the environment in real-time, just as Rem was.

A massive silhouette glided between the two men, moving with a silence that defied its bulk. Its footsteps were mere whispers against the earth.

“If you two intend to dawdle, this servant of the Almighty shall take the lead.”

Audin was the preeminent master of holy energy on the continent. Navigating the Demon Realm’s toxicity was trivial for him. Shimmering in a translucent white radiance, he stepped forward, having condensed his Holy Light Armor into a more efficient form.

As Audin approached, a creature resembling a colossal wooden titan more than a simple plant lashed out with a heavy limb. The strike was instinctive and swift. Audin reacted by shaping his hand into a flat blade. A vertical sliver of blinding white light ignited along his palm. It didn’t just look like a razor; it functioned as one.

*Shhk!*

There was no resistance. The blade of light passed through the throbbing, dark wood as if it were soft curd. Black, viscous fluid erupted from the severed branch. A few stray drops flew toward Audin’s face, but they were instantly incinerated into mist by his protective aura.

“This is quite taxing on my holy reserves.”

He was performing a miniaturized version of the spirit-blade Ragna had demonstrated earlier, focusing the energy only at the precise moment of contact. To achieve such a sharp edge with a bare hand rather than a sword was a testament to his mastery. Audin smiled, relaxing his hand before clenching it into a solid fist.

“I find this method far more satisfying, brothers.”

He raised his knuckles to eye level and surged toward the wooden core of the monster with fluid, rhythmic steps. He moved with a deceptive grace—dipping low to build momentum before launching himself forward. Sweeping his right leg out for balance, he delivered a crushing left hook. His fist was encased in a dense sphere of white light, appearing like a glowing mace.

He moved like a dancer and struck like a thunderbolt. The impact was devastating.

*Boom!*

The wooden hide didn’t just crack; it disintegrated. The entire creature buckled as a geyser of dark sap exploded from the impact site, drenching the area. Some of the spray even reached Enkrid’s position. The sheer force required for such a result was something only Audin truly understood.

“Father in Heaven! I send another worker to your garden!”

His voice boomed, and the light radiating from him intensified. He became a blur of motion, his afterimages weaving through the dark timber.

*Boom! Crack!*

With every rhythmic strike, another timber beast fell, its sap spraying in a messy arc. One punch, one soul—each offered up as a grim form of spiritual guidance. Whether the monsters appreciated the theology behind the punches was irrelevant; they were likely meeting their maker before they could even register the pain.

*Thwack!*

A stray projectile whistled through the air. Rem and Ragna reacted simultaneously, their heads snapping toward the source before the arrow even arrived. It was aimed to skew them both. Despite their earlier bickering, they moved in perfect sync—the axe and the sword meeting in the air to intercept the bolt.

*Crash!*

The iron-tipped arrow was shattered into splinters by the combined impact.

“I’ll deal with you once we’re done here, you aimless lunatic,” Rem growled.

“We can finish it now if you prefer,” Ragna countered.

Neither gave an inch, but they broke off in opposite directions, the forest soon filling with the sounds of wood being splintered and crushed under their relentless assault.

“You’ve certainly managed to assemble quite a collection of personalities for a knightly order,” Lua Gharne remarked, her voice full of genuine wonder. It was a marvel that such volatile individuals could coexist.

“I was assigned as the leader of a group that was never meant to be tamed,” Enkrid replied. It was the simple truth. Without his intervention, they would have likely self-destructed or vanished. Rem would be hunting nobles; Ragna would be a wandering mercenary for the Empire or Azpen; Audin would be a hermit crushed by his own guilt.

Yet here they were, united in this moment. And at the heart of this transformation was a man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Time to finish this,” the man said.

“Agreed. And don’t worry about the arrows—I can handle those,” Pell muttered, sounding slightly defensive as he pushed forward. Rophod merely gave a silent nod and moved to the flank.

*Shrrrk.*

Lua Gharne uncoiled her whip, a predatory glint in her eyes. “I suppose I should join the festivities.”

While she wasn’t a physical powerhouse like the giants, Frokk possessed a fierce combat instinct and an insatiable curiosity. She ignited her whip, the leather catching fire—a technique she had supposedly adapted from witnessing a Balrog in battle.

Enkrid moved to stand before Shinar. “Are you holding up?”

Shinar looked drained. She had unsheathed her Leaf Blade, but she was clearly pushing herself.

“Take a moment to breathe,” Enkrid suggested.

Shinar took a few shallow breaths, then looked past the carnage toward the dense, wall-like forest ahead. “So thoughtful of you.”

“…Excuse me?”

“I might just find myself falling for your charms all over again.”

Enkrid sighed inwardly. “Can we please retire that particular joke?”

The threat to the fairy city had passed, and the one who had nearly turned into a demon was gone. Shinar was free of her burdens, yet she persisted with her dry, biting humor.

“Do you truly believe I’m joking?” Shinar asked, her expression suddenly grave. She turned her green eyes toward him, locking onto his gaze.

“…Let’s assume you aren’t. For now, just stay behind me.”

Enkrid gave up the argument. He’d find a way to pay her back for the teasing later. He stepped forward, raising his blade.

*Baaang!*

The occasional arrow still whistled in, carrying immense force, but none found their mark. Rem’s earlier shout had turned the skirmish into a game of pride.

“The first one to get hit is the loser!”

The Mad Order of Knights fought with renewed intensity, weaving through the projectiles. To the side, Teresa was a whirlwind of steel and fury, her half-giant heritage fueling a berserker rage.

“AAAAAAHHHHH!”

The wooden monsters were being decimated. Enkrid didn’t even need to intervene. It made sense—this group represented the concentrated power of a kingdom. Any one of them was a walking catastrophe; together, they were an army of nine. Even excluding himself, Shinar, and Jaxon, the remaining six could likely topple a nation.

*Bang, boom! Clang!*

The air was filled with the sound of breaking wood and splashing sap. No human blood was spilled—save for a tiny exception. Pell, in a moment of overzealousness, had dived between three enemies while dodging an arrow. A blade-like branch grazed his arm. His heavy bracer, crafted from layers of harpy and troll hide with Noir Mountain iron, held firm, but the flexible joint was nicked. A single drop of red appeared.

“Pell, you’re the loser,” Rophod called out, darting past a rising wooden spike with the agility of a starving predator.

Rophod’s transformation was complete. The once-cautious squire now thrived on the edge of danger, if only for the opportunity to mock his companions.

“It wasn’t an arrow! It doesn’t count!” Pell shouted back.

“Doesn’t count? That looks like a mortal wound to me. Should we carry you to the back?”

It was a mere scratch, but Rophod wasn’t about to let it go.

“Is your vision failing you?” Pell snapped.

Rophod just laughed and vanished into the fray.

“Pathetic,” Rem added as he passed.

“Everyone stumbles eventually,” Ragna offered, his “consolation” being far more insulting than the mockery.

Pell resolved to double his defensive training as he vented his frustration on the remaining monsters. Then, as a black bolt struck the earth, Jaxon reappeared at the edge of the dense forest. The ground was slick with black ichor, and the sunlight was a sickly, filtered gray, yet the group remained undeterred.

Jaxon was the only one who remained perfectly clean.

“The path is open,” Jaxon reported before Rem could speak. “And there’s something ‘interesting’ up ahead.”

In their shared vocabulary, “interesting” was code for “lethally dangerous.”

“Moving out,” Enkrid commanded. He wouldn’t give the enemy time to reset.

“You can’t just spam teleporting arrows of Will forever,” Rem noted as he took the lead. He understood the toll such techniques took on a caster.

The group pushed through the final layer of the wooden wall. Beyond it lay their true obstacle.

*Gwoooohhh.*

A massive fortification rose before them—a wall composed of agonizing human faces and jagged thorns. This was the Thornbush Fortress, a key Demon Realm stronghold.

“I can handle the magic bolts, but what are those things?” Rem asked, gesturing with his axe toward the ramparts.

High above, perched on a spire, stood a figure with a bow. It had elongated ears, flowing gray hair, and skin the color of a dark sea. Its features were unmistakably elven, yet wrong.

“A fairy?” Rophod whispered.

“No,” Shinar replied, her voice cold and lethal. “That is a rotted husk. A corrupted elemental, warped by the abyss.”

The creature, its eyes glowing with a malevolent purple light, stared down at them.

“A handsome catch,” the creature hissed.

Enkrid gauged the distance in silence. He reached for a rod at his hip and flicked it.

*Thunk.*

The rod elongated into a spear. In one fluid motion, he planted his foot, rotated his torso using a refined Vortex technique, and hurled the weapon with everything he had. It was a spear throw executed with the precision of a master swordsman.

*Boom! CRASH!*

The javelin became a streak of lightning, slamming into the high lookout post. It didn’t kill the fairy—Enkrid hadn’t expected it to—but the shockwave sent the creature reeling.

The projectile had been intercepted by a hulking, armored figure standing beside the archer. Clad in massive iron plates and a closed helm, the guardian held a smoldering morning star in one hand and a heavy shield in the other. It was the shield that had deflected Enkrid’s throw.

“Unfortunate,” Enkrid muttered, resetting his stance.

*GROOOAAHHH.*

The wall of souls let out a collective moan, almost as if they were shocked by the sudden aggression.

“When someone sends you so many arrows, it’s only polite to send something back,” Enkrid said calmly.

“Agreed,” Ragna said, as the rest of the group prepared for the breach.