A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 770

Chapter 770

Will surged with a frantic energy. It was likely because few sensations in existence could match the sheer exhilaration of such a moment.
Enkrid occasionally sensed that Will possessed a life of its own, acting independently of his conscious choice. This was undeniably one of those instances.
Yet, if he had to judge whether such autonomy was a flaw, his response would be a firm denial.
‘The cravings of the subconscious.’
Those hidden desires find their expression through Will. In its fundamental makeup or function, it rarely deviated from that truth.
His wandering thoughts birthed a dozen flickering impressions, but they rapidly coalesced into a single, sharp focus.
‘Strike.’
Even his trembling Will unified. Answering his intent, it surged through his entire frame, traveling down his arms to his fingertips, gripping the hilt, and flooding into the steel.
‘An engraved weapon is merely an extension of my limb.’
The sensation was absolute.
It felt entirely right for Will to seek out and settle within Duskforge.
His steady rhythm of breathing halted; he narrowed his gaze, fixing it upon the barrier ahead.
From a distance, Ragna, clutching Sunrise, kept a steady watch on his leader.
To his eyes, the Will vibrating within Enkrid’s Duskforge was constantly layering and intensifying.
“Intriguing.”
Ragna whispered the word.
Shinar, seeing Enkrid spring into action, stilled her own wild movements.
She was much like Ragna in her focus. Having been attuned to him already, she had likely noticed Enkrid’s shift even sooner than the others.
The very atmosphere of the Demon Realm acted as a toxin to those of fairy kind. She only managed to withstand the environment because she possessed spiritual energy on par with a knight; otherwise, a fairy could not survive a single step in this realm.
The air here was truly foul, a heavy pressure that naturally constricted the lungs.
Nevertheless, as she watched Enkrid grip his blade, it felt as though the refreshing essence of a woodland grove was drifting from him.
Perhaps it was a lingering trace of the essence she had bestowed during the sword’s creation. Or, perhaps, her heightened fairy instincts were simply foreseeing the immediate future.
Regardless of the cause, the ‘why’ was irrelevant to Shinar.
A common observer might have been struck with terror, viewing Enkrid’s current state as pure insanity—but for Shinar, her spirit was filled only with the urge to support the madman leading the charge.
Was that not the only proper way to regard the one you loved?
Above all, Shinar held absolute faith in him.
Wherever he trod, a path would form; wherever he turned, light would follow. The blade destined to shield the child of forest and bloom surely carried a core of dark energy within.
The feeling made her want to hum a melodic fairy tune.
Instead of a song, she breathed a quiet word that mirrored her heart’s devotion.
“Vera, my beloved.”
Her whisper went unheard by the rest. Pell, busy intercepting projectiles, and Rophod, locked in combat with beasts, found their attention involuntarily pulled toward Enkrid.
Is what that man is preparing truly what I suspect?
The same realization quietly dawned on both Pell and Rophod.
Even as monsters swarmed, a portion of everyone’s focus shifted toward him.
Enkrid, certain that his steel would not fail him, channeled an unending torrent of Will into the edge with every ounce of his being.
The intangible force born of conviction seemed to pulse through every vessel in his body.
Every bit of it flowed into the blade. Duskforge took it all without resistance.
For a fleeting second, he felt as though the sudden drain might cause him to buckle.
He shifted his stance to maintain his balance. Then, Enkrid slammed his engraved weapon against the fortress barrier.
Click.
The edge, held parallel to the earth, bit a finger’s depth into the jagged, thorny wall.
Clutching the hilt with both hands, he steadied his internal rhythm.
No distractions remained.
His concentration was so piercing that it seemed a luminous blue ring had manifested within his eyes.
Uoooaaargh, uaargh, aaaagh.
The wall emitted a horrific wail, lashing out with needle-like spikes, while vines like whip-cracks sought to tangle the madman standing before them.
As if merely stepping aside, Enkrid shifted his weight.
He sprinted forward.
He moved while leaving the blade embedded in the structure. Effectively, the steel carved through the wall. This was no mere grazing blow—not with Will saturated into the metal.
As Enkrid raced ahead, the barrier detonated behind him in a series of violent crashes.
Kyaaaaaagh, the trapped souls shrieked in agony.
KRRRAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKANG!
The sound thundered in time with his heavy steps. Enkrid hauled Duskforge through the base of the thorn-choked wall along his path.
Dark ichor sprayed as the foundation of the barrier was sliced, ruptured, shattered, and ground to dust. A pale, vaporous mist swirled upward.
And as with all things, his run eventually reached its conclusion.
Enkrid came to a halt. Heat rolled off his shoulders like steam.
Flap-flap-flap—
His deep green mantle, which had been whipping in the gale of his movement, fell still against his back.
Marking his path was a massive, jagged wound torn into the thorn wall. Moments later, a subtle tremor shook the earth, and the entire structure began to sway and lurch backward.
KUGUGUGUGUNG.
The ground groaned, and a massive segment of the wall toppled over.
It was a marvel. A sight that forced one to question if a human hand could truly achieve such a thing.
Though the sight of the collapsing fortress seemed like a hallucination, the vibrating earth and the thunderous impact confirmed its reality.
As the ruined wall slammed into the dirt, the sheer weight of it made its presence known.
KWAAAAAANG!
A roar and a concussive wave tore through the air—powerful enough to shatter the hearing of anyone ordinary.
The shaking was total.
It mirrored a tectonic shift.
The soil shuddered.
It was only natural—Enkrid had forced a massive section of the fortification to fail along the line of his strike.
The stones once used to reinforce the thorns cracked and disintegrated, sending up plumes of grey grit.
The Demon Realm didn’t turn its dust black or purple. Stone remained stone, regardless of the realm.
Over the violet terrain of this dark land, the night had truly set in, and in a gloom so deep that colors vanished, the dust still billowed high.
Like a pale shroud over the darkness of the night, the white powder coated the scene.
Between the echoes of the collapse and the settling dust, a brief, heavy silence took hold.
Even the monsters that had been attacking seemed ready to flee, rattled by the sound and the shifting ground.
Every person froze in shock, gripped by a sudden stillness.
Could the man known for building iron walls also be the one to tear them down?
Dazed stares converged on Enkrid.
However, they were the Mad Order of Knights.
They were stunned—but they had not lost their battle senses.
“Not just a breach… he sliced it through and knocked it over?”
Pell’s voice was a low murmur.
Despite the haze, Pell had witnessed the feat, and his eyes were wide with disbelief.
How was such a thing even possible?
The question was more than just shock. It was a reflection of the sheer impossibility of the sight.
“Did you want to know what we’re capable of—!”
Lua Gharne’s shout better expressed the collective feeling of the group.
Thump—
His pulse quickened, fueled by a sudden rush of adrenaline. Damn, he really pulled that off? That’s actually possible?
As those thoughts raced, he simply felt the fire of excitement.
From Frokk’s throat came a guttural cry that rang across the field like a signal. Frokk’s voice carried his challenge to the enemy, echoing in every direction.
Audin paused his assault for a moment.
‘Brother.’
It was a moment that demanded reverence. He had cleaved a fortress with a blade. Instead of feeling a sense of competition, Audin felt a surge of inspiration, wanting to match the glory Enkrid had just displayed. Before him sat a section of the wall he had already dented with his own strikes.
“Lord.”
He lunged into the heart of the barrier he had begun to break. It was a chaotic mess of thorns—shuffling, grasping, and hopelessly tangled.
“Pure madness.”
Rophod breathed out in disbelief.
He watched as Audin threw himself into the mass of twitching vines that were already trying to knit themselves back together. As soon as Audin vanished inside, the wall seemed to react with desperation—its healing speed surged.
Furthermore, the vines knotted together, sealing the path Audin had taken.
Seconds later, the opening was completely choked with thorns, but through the cracks of the distorted wall—made of screaming faces, briars, and broken masonry—beams of light began to pierce through.
The rays of light originating from the blocked hole intensified and multiplied. Then, the trapped radiance merged and erupted.
That white light—the purest holy fire—was silent in its power.
The only noise was the subsequent crashing of the structure being incinerated and collapsing.
Kudududu.
The earth trembled as another section of the wall gave way, spilling vines and massive stones onto the ground.
A ballista-beast that Jaxon hadn’t yet reached was crushed under the falling debris, leaving a smear of dark blood.
As the knights scrambled to avoid the falling ruins, their attention shifted to Audin.
If Enkrid had sliced the wall apart, Audin had blasted a gaping void through its center.
“Ha, ha, ha! This is wonderful, brother!”
The glowing plate covering his powerful frame served as his trademark.
The thick briars hanging above him and the stones possessed by spirits seemed frozen in a silent scream.
The scene was nightmarish—but facing it, Audin wore a brilliant, beaming expression. It was a look of pure joy.
“The Creator is waiting for you in the beyond.”
The wailing and the curses emanating from the wall ceased instantly.
The vines that had fought so hard finally went limp.
“These insane lunatics, what are they even doing…”
Only then did the figure who had been taunting them show himself.
A magic spirit trailed behind him, and Enkrid noted for the first time just how wide a fairy’s eyes could stretch.
‘No—at this point, it’s not a fairy anymore.’
It consumed spiritual energy, so it was a fairy. It lived in the Demon Realm, so it was a magic spirit.
Carrying a longbow and a thin, needle-like blade at its side—the spirit’s eyes were locked on Enkrid.
Simultaneously, Shinar was burning holes into the magic spirit with her gaze.
To an outsider, her look might have seemed soft. But Enkrid, who had learned to read fairy moods, knew it was a look of pure loathing.
“You, a creature whose very essence has rotted into that filth.”
The magic spirit flicked its gaze toward Shinar at her insult, but the events occurring before it were far more pressing.
What kind of madmen cut down fortifications with swords and shatter them with bare hands?
These were the freaks standing before him.
“You people, truly…”
Whether he was the master of this fort, a warlock, or an underling of Red Foot, the man couldn’t find the words to finish.
What kind of monsters are you?
Lua Gharne puffed her cheeks out, looking satisfied.
Frokk, mirroring her expression, finally spoke.
“What do you think? There is your answer to what we can do.”
The castellan surveyed his surroundings. Seeing the piles of dead beasts and the lack of any incoming reinforcements, it was clear the three magic spirits on the battlements were already gone.
The situation was nonsensical, but he hadn’t forgotten his duty. Moreover, this wasn’t the first time he’d seen a wall fall.
“Eliminate them.”
He gave the order, and immediately, dark shapes lunged from the shadows behind Enkrid and Audin.
These were magic spirits built for murder. Purple-skinned, wielding jagged knives, and possessing a terrifying ability to mask their sound, scent, and very existence.
Jaxon, observing them, noted that they could have easily held a rank within Geor Dagger.
Two enemy silhouettes rose.
But a friendly shadow rose just as quickly behind the killer targeting Audin.
Jaxon drew a stiletto across the throat of the one approaching Audin’s back.
A wet slicing sound filled the air as the neck opened, and at the same moment, a dull thud echoed from the head of the one closing in on Enkrid.
It was the sound of the Silence Dagger Enkrid had hurled finding its mark.
The spirit with the blade in its skull made a futile stabbing motion at the air before hitting the ground.
“Was that even necessary?”
Enkrid asked, glancing back.
He had left Duskforge where it fell and had already gripped Penna.
He likely could have handled it even without help.
He was in a state of deep focus; although he had used his Will to fell the wall, he wasn’t exhausted. He felt no loss of power.
“I don’t need a thank you, do I?”
Audin felt the same. He might have taken a glancing blow, but he was still cloaked in a layer of holy radiance.
His protection wasn’t just a simple edge of Will like Ragna’s—it was a suit of spiritual light so dense that common blades couldn’t hope to pierce it.
“It felt like my turn to step in.”
Jaxon answered with a shrug.
And now, the true denizen of the Demon Realm—the fort commander, the sorcerer, the tool of Red Foot—was beyond being shocked.
Right, so none of you are easy targets. Is that the way it is?