A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 767

Chapter 767

An ebony fowl circled overhead before tucking its feathers and plunging. The velocity of its descent seemed to defy its gargantuan bulk, or perhaps its sheer mass only accelerated its terminal velocity.

A thunderous boom tore through the firmament as the air fractured. Just as the dark shape blurred past, Rem vanished from his position.

“That absolute maniac—”

Pell, witnessing Rem’s maneuver, couldn’t help but exhale a curse of genuine admiration. He had been skeptical when Rem demanded cover, but now he understood.

Moments before the avian beast struck, the wild man from the West had looped a length of cord around his hand axe and hurled it skyward. As the black bird barreled toward them, its beak extended like a massive lance, Rophod and Pell swung their blades to parry the strike wide. Simultaneously, the axe and tether Rem had launched snared firmly around the creature’s throat.

In a heartbeat, Rem had scaled his way onto the beast’s spine, and the bird ascended once more.

“Commander.”

Rophod called out to Enkrid, though Enkrid was already well aware of the capabilities of the one man on earth who required no concern.

“It’s Rem.”

That was the only explanation needed: a man who could perform his duties even while clinging to the heavens.

“Loo–loo–laa–la!”

A bizarre, guttural howl drifted down from the clouds. It was Rem’s voice. He was likely venting a manic joy, fueled by the echoes of Teresa’s hymn rising from below. It had been quite some time since Rem had reached back for the old chants of the West. Wasn’t there a superstition about the cry of a crow bringing misfortune?

Perched atop the monster’s back, Rem performed a rite to call forth a companion spirit. As the translucent image of a giant eagle materialized behind him, he plunged his left fingers deep between the black bird’s plumage. Like predatory claws, they tore through skin and locked into the muscle beneath.

*Piiiii—*

He pursed his lips and emitted a whistle that mimicked the piercing cry of a raptor. Using his anchored left hand for leverage, Rem lowered his center of gravity and began to scramble forward, moving with the agility of a climber on a vertical face. The only catch was that this “cliff” was a living, breathing leviathan thousands of feet in the air.

He surged toward the creature’s skull, driving the axe he had prepared earlier straight into its crown. Every motion was so seamless and calculated it happened in a blur. The black bird bucked and twisted violently, attempting to dislodge its passenger, but Rem remained unshakable.

Then came the strike.

*Thunk!*

The blade cleaved through the bird’s cranium. Dark ichor and brain matter sprayed from the small head. Still maintaining his grip with his left hand, Rem crouched low and then partially straightened his posture.

Looking up, he spotted the distorted, ashen sun receding in the distance, with another avian beast crossing its path. Rem had already calculated its trajectory. Holstering his current tool, he wrenched the axe from the skull of his dying mount and flung it with all his might. Given the bird’s size, it was an impossible target to miss.

*Thhhwip—*

The hand axe cut through the wind and bit deep into the back of the second creature. Though the first bird was beginning its terminal descent, it could still serve as a platform. Rem treated it as nothing more than a stepping stone. He coiled his muscles, flexed his legs, gripped the cord attached to the second bird, and gave a violent yank.

The second black bird, mid-flap, was jerked backward and momentarily stalled. That fraction of a second was all Rem required. He hauled on the tether and leaped, his arms wide to catch the drafts, landing squarely on the second bird’s back. With his limbs outstretched, he appeared as a literal eagle in flight.

Behind him, his previous mount crashed into the earth far from the front lines.

*Crash!*

As the impact resonated below, Rem’s axe once again found a home in the skull of his new ride.

*Piiii—*

His whistle shrilled through the sky once more.

—

How exactly did he plan to return to the ground?

It was a logical concern, but Enkrid didn’t voice it. He held a firm conviction that Rem would manage. Rem wasn’t the type to ascend without an exit strategy, and there were numerous ways down. He could use a tree to break his fall or simply signal Audin to catch him.

“He might snap a leg… but probably not.”

They weren’t so high that he was a mere dot in the sky; this height was manageable. Just as the thought crossed Enkrid’s mind, the final of the three black birds panicked as Rem boarded it and spiked upward toward the zenith. Even Enkrid could perceive the raw terror in the creature’s flight, though it was ultimately a futile, suicidal gesture.

Men cannot fly. Not even the most legendary knights. The bird that had once cast a massive shadow now looked no larger than a human from the ground. Would Rem ride it down by force?

No—he simply opened the bird’s throat.

Once more, dark blood rained from the heavens. Gouts of gore and feathers cascaded down alongside a falling carcass and a single man. Rem utilized the body as a platform one last time, performing a feat of incredible grace. Once he had dropped low enough, he effectively glided through the air.

Rem was no knight; he was a shaman. He invoked the eagle spirit to buoy his frame. It wasn’t true flight, but with his limbs splayed, he resembled a soaring predator more than a falling man.

The only problem was his trajectory.

“That man looks completely turned around.”

Having finished with the plague ghouls, Ragna approached and made the observation. When Enkrid remained silent, Ragna emphasized the point with a smirk.

“That fool who can’t find a straight path is drifting over there.”

He sounded almost entertained.

“…He’ll get here.”

The dying bird had carried Rem quite a distance. Whether that was a final act of spite from the beast was irrelevant; it was dead now. If it had intended to deal a parting blow, it had succeeded in moving him off-course. Still, Enkrid wasn’t bothered. Rem was a hunter of the West; he could navigate the Demon Realm with his eyes closed. There was no reason to wait.

Whatever their internal motives, both the magic spirit atop the spire and the priest or castellan had disappeared. In truth, they had likely withdrawn because they knew this chaotic band of warriors would continue to struggle until they were spent.

Plague ghouls were exhausting foes, and the threats weren’t limited to them. Modified crow-beasts patrolled the skies, and beyond the ghouls lay horrors birthed from forbidden alchemy and dark sorcery. Furthermore, the enemy was entrenched behind a fortress of living thorns. They could afford to be patient.

From the perspective of the magic spirit, having spent her initial arrows, it was time to regroup. Their strategy was arrogant and calculated. They intended to mock the survivors from the safety of the battlements once the dust settled.

*“Splendid work, you fought quite well. Now, why not test your mettle against this four-armed lycanthrope? Oh, do forgive me—did you happen to notice my custom-built ‘elite’ specimen back there?”*

That was the speech they would give while looking down from the walls. The trials ahead would far exceed the difficulty of the ghouls. Arrows would pour from the tower trees, and crystal knights in charcoal plate would be deployed.

Even Enkrid couldn’t fully decipher the plans of the hidden priest or the spirit. But if they were putting their faith in those ramparts, he intended to demolish that faith entirely.

Though the leaders had retreated, the walls were not empty. Subtle shadows shifted along the perimeter, caught by Enkrid’s sharp eyes. In that same moment, he realized Jaxon was gone. Jaxon would be fulfilling his role, and those remaining would do the same.

Enkrid spoke.

“Lua.”

Lua Gharne didn’t respond with words. Instead, her wide eyes darted back and forth, scanning. The fortifications. The beasts. The projectiles. The spirit. The geography. The current state of the board. She was constructing a mental map of the entire battlefield.

Frokk Lua Gharne—she was a master of finding victory in the jaws of defeat. That was her craft. She was the sort of tactician who could transform a disadvantage into a stalemate, or even a win. Because her brilliance was rooted in a primal combat instinct, it was nearly impossible to replicate, but her genius was undeniable.

If she could pivot a losing battle, how much more terrifying would she be when the odds were in her favor? It was a simple truth: those who thrive in hardship become unstoppable when given the upper hand.

The core of Lua Gharne’s tactical bladework was built on that very principle. Enkrid had grasped the essence of it after dying a thousand deaths. It was no wonder Lua Gharne had taken a liking to him; combat intuition can’t be taught, yet he seemed to absorb it regardless. That hunger for excellence was what had piqued Frokk’s curiosity and kept her at his side.

As Lua Gharne gazed at the fortress, Enkrid’s thoughts mirrored her own.

“Siege experience.”

Enkrid looked back on his history of storming castles. They were few, but significant. There was no need to calculate the traditional pros and cons of defense. There was no water-filled moat, and they weren’t likely to face boiling pitch. But he knew that the moment they touched that wall, spirits bound in thorny shrouds would attempt to dismember them. He didn’t need to see it to know it was coming.

“This isn’t a typical bastion. Ordinary tactics won’t suffice.”

Usually, a defender would rely on a moat and send out scouts to harrying the supply lines. Defending was like protecting one’s hearth; attacking meant enduring the elements and the enemy’s blows.

“Normally, the defender holds the high ground.”

Unless, of course, the fortress was starving and could be waited out.

“None of that matters here.”

Their group was a tiny, elite strike team without a supply train. This thorned citadel in the Demon Realm defied conventional military logic.

Though he reflected deeply, Enkrid’s mind worked with lightning speed. He processed the variables, leaving only two essential questions.

What was their side missing?

“A siege engine.”

Even a makeshift ram or a catapult would have helped. The enemy possessed bone-crafted ballistae on the heights—assets his team lacked.

Then the second question: What did they actually have?

“Nine forces known as disasters… well, eight for the moment.”

Once Rem found his way back, the count would return to nine. For now, it was eight “disasters,” supplemented by Frokk’s ability to identify the fracture points in an enemy’s defense.

Enkrid’s eyes shifted to Lua Gharne. Lua didn’t make a sound; she simply stared. The pale sun was failing, overtaken by a creeping gloom. It looked as though a black ink was bleeding across the twilight sky.

Just before the darkness took hold, Lua Gharne’s cheek gave a slight twitch.

*Gurrrk.*

“This looks entertaining.”

That was her only commentary.

“We’ll break through with sheer power.”

Her directive was blunt. She understood the capabilities of every person in the unit. Suggesting they scout the perimeter or fight a war of attrition would have been a waste of their talents.

“Willpower has its limits.”

Even Enkrid, with his seemingly bottomless resolve, had a ceiling for physical exertion. The solution was a single, overwhelming thrust. They had the destructive potential to make it work. The enemy had made the mistake of underestimating them.

The group, which had been huddled close, began to fan out across the front of the wall. Lua Gharne didn’t overcomplicate things. Sometimes the simplest path was the most effective. If they hesitated to analyze every detail, they would lose the initiative. What they needed was something the enemy hadn’t prepared for.

If you possess absurd strength, you can perform absurd deeds. This was the outcome Lua Gharne anticipated. There were no gates in the fortress wall, no visible entrances. There were only thorns—sharp as needles, jagged enough to tear gaping holes in a man.

“I’ll create the opening,” Audin stated, his eyes locked on the seamless wall.

The lamentations of the spirits within the wall shifted again, perhaps reacting to Teresa’s presence. One entity expelled a dark crimson fluid that began to pool at the base of the wall like a makeshift moat. Another lashed out with a tongue coated in barbed spikes, snapping the air with the same rhythm as Lua’s whip.

*Crack, crack.*

The thorny tongue whipped about, ready to mince anyone who stepped within reach. Other spirits reached out with spindly arms or thrust sharpened facial protrusions forward like awls. Nothing was static.

“Shall I provide a song?” Teresa inquired.

“Keep your strength for now, Sister,” Audin replied, shaking his head.