A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 771

Chapter 771

The divine representative didn’t view the situation as a total catastrophe yet, but seeing the fortification crumble made it obvious that these opponents were formidable. He signaled with his hand, prompting a pair of women with glowing gazes to emerge from his shadow.

“This marks only the second instance of that barrier falling since its creation,” one remarked. Positioned to the left of Enkrid, she possessed eyes that resembled polished blue jewels. Rather than natural pupils, solid cerulean stones occupied her sockets, emitting a soft, pulsating luminescence. While such a description might sound ethereal, the reality was grotesque; the sight suggested a level of insanity if the stones were merely a cosmetic choice.

Enkrid sensed the power bleeding off them and realized his suspicion was correct. ‘Witches.’

These two were clearly the source of the dark legends surrounding the Crystal Prison. Beyond their unsettling eyes, patches of their skin glittered like mineral deposits. The tales of people being “trapped” here likely meant they had fallen victim to the whims of these sorceresses.

The barrier of suffering spirits in jagged shrouds was gone, but the source of the dark bolts—the warden of the Crystal Prison—remained poised for battle alongside the architect of this misery.

“You’ll make a fine addition to my gallery,” the woman with red eyes declared, her gaze fixed intently on Enkrid. It was a clear sign of her morbid fascination with him.

A heavy silence fell over the battlefield. Normally, Shinar would have barked an insult at such a comment, but she remained silent, her grip tightening on the Leaf Blade as she focused entirely on the spirit entity. Rophod, finding the quietude jarring, attempted to fill the void.

“A magnetism that even moves the hearts of witches,” he remarked.

The comment drew incredulous stares from his allies. Their faces clearly asked what on earth he was thinking.

“…Are you trying to fill the role of the barbarian while he’s gone?” Pell whispered harshly.

Rophod clamped his jaw shut, regretting the attempt at levity. He knew further words would only invite more ridicule.

Enkrid merely blinked. The idea of “seducing” a witch was nonsensical to him; he had never encountered these women before. He turned his attention back to the enemy and gave a blunt reply.

“…No thanks.”

“Very well. We shall meet again shortly,” the red-eyed witch replied, brimming with dark confidence.

“Who managed it the first time?” Lua Gharne inquired suddenly. Her curiosity was piqued by the mention of a previous breach of the wall. The idea that another individual had once shattered those defenses made Frokk look up in surprise.

The lord of the castle cast a murderous look at Frokk and made a sharp sweeping motion with his hand, silently promising a future execution. Following his lead, a rasping sound—like steel against stone—erupted from behind the spirit. A construct emerged, a golem encased in obsidian crystal, brandishing a blade of the same material. Though smaller than the warrior Audin, it radiated a dangerous, lethal speed.

“Blinded by your own arrogance, you have marched straight to your deaths,” the castellan sneered.

Enkrid didn’t waste breath on a retort. Instead, he carved Duskforge through the empty air. To an uninitiated observer, the move looked pointless, but the elite warriors present knew better. They sensed that Enkrid had just severed something unseen.

*Ping.*

The sound was more a psychic vibration than an audible noise. The blue-eyed witch felt the snap within her own mind.

“What did you do?” she gasped. She had been in the middle of weaving a silent hex, yet the thread of the spell had been cleanly sliced apart.

Technically, it shouldn’t have been possible. A sword should only hit physical matter, leading her to wonder if another hidden sorcerer had interfered or if Enkrid carried a powerful anti-magic relic. She tried to convince herself it was mere luck.

“He stopped mine as well,” her companion added.

Enkrid had already followed up with a rising slash. In that instant, the flow of magical energy was disrupted again. It wasn’t that the mana had been destabilized by outside interference; the structure of the spell itself had been physically divided.

‘It shouldn’t be possible to cut magic,’ the blue-eyed witch thought, stunned.

Meanwhile, Enkrid felt a sense of clarity. ‘This is becoming natural.’

The lessons learned while cutting through the endless flames of the time loop and his training with Esther were bearing fruit. He was learning to treat the invisible as tangible. Jaxon, possessing a keen intuition for such things, looked at him and asked, “Did you actually slice through the magic?”

“I did,” Enkrid confirmed.

“That’s… insane,” the witch muttered.

Usually, a knight had the edge in a direct duel because of their focus on a single point, but a witch held the advantage when fighting on her own prepared ground. This was their domain. They had planted focal points and artifacts throughout the area to bolster their power. The loss of the spirit wall was actually a benefit, as it cleared the “static” from the air.

“Red Foot!” the red-eyed woman screamed.

Despite witnessing the feat twice, she refused to accept it. She suspected a trick or a specialized tool. Calling upon the name of her patron demon, she flooded the area with mana. The artifacts hidden beneath the earth began to hum and vibrate.

The atmosphere grew heavy as a massive runic circle manifested above Enkrid and his group. The center of the ring pulsed with a violent, crimson light.

*KWAANG!*

A roar of thunder followed. This was Flame Lightning, a catastrophic forbidden art. Casting it required immense preparation and the sacrifice of spiritual beings—in this case, the life force of three separate artifacts was consumed to trigger it instantly.

She had spared no expense to ensure their destruction. But the devastation she expected never arrived.

“…Ah.”

A soft, terrified sound escaped her. Beneath her reinforced leather and stone-hard armor, her chest tightened. She was experiencing a sensation she hadn’t felt in years: genuine terror.

—

As the heavens split and the red glare descended, the group reacted with the instincts of veteran monster hunters. The standard defense against high-level magic was to clear the impact zone immediately. However, Flame Lightning was designed to be inescapable. Unlike the “Walking Fire,” which was a slow burn, this was an instantaneous execution. It was a spell that outran the fastest reflexes of any knight.

The witch had played her strongest card immediately, knowing that holding back was a death sentence.

Enkrid’s mind entered a state of accelerated perception before the witch had even finished her incantation. His Will acted on instinct. He remembered Esther’s teachings: every spell, no matter how fast, has a “tell.” Whether it’s a vocal cue, a gesture, or simply the shifting of mana, a mage leaves a trail.

He didn’t just see the witch; he felt the mana. His senses merged into a single point of focus. He could see the trajectory of the bolt before it even exited the clouds. It was less about prediction and more about absolute insight.

To his heightened senses, her words were slow and distorted. He began his move while the first syllable was still hanging in the air. Initially, he considered dodging, which would have been easy with this much warning. But as he prepared to step away, Duskforge vibrated in his hand.

The blade seemed to challenge him: *Why run?*

Enkrid realized that if he dodged, the massive bolt would hit the ground and explode, likely catching his allies in the resulting blast. There was no need to retreat. He had already mastered the art of cutting fire; this was simply a more concentrated version.

He focused his Will into a single point of intent. Stepping forward with his left foot to anchor his weight, he locked his eyes onto the descending streak of crimson death. It was a jagged, violent mass of energy that promised total annihilation.

Enkrid channeled every ounce of his Will into the metal of Duskforge and swung upward.

To the red-eyed witch, the movement was a blur. One moment the lightning was falling, and the next, the man was standing there with his sword lowered, having already completed the strike.

*KWAARRRRRR.*

The Flame Lightning didn’t explode. It split into two harmless halves, veering off into the darkness where it dissipated into harmless sparks. For a few seconds, the night sky was filled with fist-sized embers that illuminated the faces of the combatants before fading into nothing.

The thunderous echo lingered, but the threat was gone. A mortal man had physically cleaved a forbidden spell in half.

The witch stared at Enkrid, paralyzed. He stood perfectly still, yet the mere aura he projected felt like a blade at her throat. The psychological shock caused her internal mana to recoil, tearing at her insides.

“Urgh.”

She spat out a mouthful of blackened blood. Enkrid remained motionless, steam rising from his skin as he recovered from the massive expenditure of Will. He had pushed himself to the limit twice in quick succession—first with the wall, and now with the sky itself. He needed a second to breathe.

Jaxon seized the opening. While mages were terrifying from a distance, they were vulnerable if someone could get close.

The blue-skinned spirit was the first to react to the shift. “Look out behind you!” she screamed as Jaxon launched his assault.