A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 857

Chapter 857 - Black and Soot-filled Ash-GrayThe monsters truly never stopped coming.

"What's this? An ambush?"

Rem spoke, having detected the enemy just from the vibrations felt through the soles of his feet.

It was a group of Scalers that had been waiting, dug into the earth.

They were the kind of creatures that charged while riding giant worms.

Because of the rainwater, their ambush was meaningless.

Of course, they would have noticed even if it hadn't been raining.

The creatures shot up from the ground and tried to surround the party, but it was futile.

Rem stepped forward, slicing and dicing them to death as he passed.

Hordes of ghouls and Drowned Ones rushing them was a common occurrence.

Among them, they often saw mutated versions where several ghouls had merged.

These were huge, comparable to dire wolves.

One might call them giants made of flesh.

"Hey, religion-freak. Are those your buddies?"

Rem's mouth ran nonstop, as usual.

"Ho ho, the Lord asks how you are, brother. Oh, Father, shall I send one of the West's pitiful children up to you?"

Theresa picked up on his words.

"Shall we do it now, brother?"

It made one wonder just what she and Audin talked about in their spare time.

What did she mean, ?

"Are you two planning my assassination in your free time? Look at these bastards."

Leaving the two to their squabble, Fel and Roford stepped forward.

"A bet on who kills the most?"

Fel proposed as he moved.

"And we'll count one of Sir Audin's relatives as ten kills?"

"Deal."

Of course, Audin overheard their conversation.

Rem cackled while Audin quietly watched their departing backs and said:

"Please, make sure you both come back alive."

The words were chilling.

To Fel and Roford, Audin's remark was far more terrifying than the ominous air of this land.

"Return, to the Lord's embrace, return, to the Lord's embrace."

Theresa sang a repeating refrain from a hymn she knew.

Dunbakel snickered.

Somehow, the beastkin's laughter was starting to resemble Rem's.

"The rain isn't stopping,"

Ragna remarked.

There was no tension in his voice.

There was, however, dissatisfaction.

Because of the ceaseless rain, it was impossible to cook anything hot.

All they could do was chew on damp jerky.

Ragna wanted a quality meal.

"It looks like it'll keep coming down for a while."

An excellent guide can gauge the weather by looking at the sky.

Enkrid had once worked as a guide.

He judged that the rain would not stop for at least three days.

Naturally, Ragna knew nothing of the sort.

He believed a true guide simply walks, rain or shine.

He would never get lost.

He would just wander until he reached the destination.

The bet between Fel and Ropord ended in a draw.

Fel killed one of Audin's 'cousins,' but Ropord swept across the entire battlefield and killed more ghouls and Drowned Ones than Fel.

After that, monsters continued to pop out from somewhere.

The most impressive among them was a single gnoll.

It was impressive even though it attacked alone, not in a pack.

It was a monster of extraordinary skill.

'A semi-knight? No, less than that?'

That was Enkrid's assessment.

It couldn't naturally use Will, but its monstrous physical abilities and innate strength, incomparable to a human's, compensated for this lack.

The creature had tailed the party with extreme stealth.

Before, a few owlbears had attacked using the darkness as a shield, but no one had been surprised then.

This gnoll was different.

It hid its presence to a degree that reminded him of Jaxen, even calculating the wind direction and approaching from downwind.

It didn't rush in recklessly, but calmly closed the distance until it was within arm's reach.

'It has patience, too.'

That was Enkrid's conclusion.

This was no common monster.

Patience, and the means to fully utilize its abilities.

'A monster that uses its head.'

A monster that had learned something from humans or another intelligent species.

The words of Balmnug, the Imperial Knight, came to mind once more.

In any case, the Jaxen-like gnoll targeted Ragna, who was at the very rear.

It was an ambush that reeked of a hunter's instinct.

The moment Ragna felt the killing intent behind him, he reacted instantly.

He spun around and unleashed a sword strike that seemed to split time.

Accelerated thought, a focus that entered a world of silence in an instant, and the mindset of being ready to cut down that bastard Rem at any moment.

It was a strike that combined everything.

As Ragna's waist turned, his horse's legs gave way.

A result of his violent movement on horseback.

The sound of the horse's legs breaking was followed by its scream.

Though his stance was broken, Ragna's Sunrise moved true, cleaving the ambusher's body in two.

His center of gravity had shifted, but he compensated with the strength of his core and forearms.

It was a technique and a level of swordsmanship so complete it was hard to believe it was an instantaneous strike.

This was why he was called a genius.

"All sorts of things here,"

Ragna said, still holding his striking pose.

It was as if the South was giving them a rough welcoming ceremony.

"Now that's a strange one. You sure it wasn't the wildcat in disguise?"

Rem said jokingly.

That's how stealthy the approach had been.

Even the elf and Enkrid, with their heightened senses, had missed its approach.

The rain, which made the surroundings damp and murky, had played a part.

Hadn't they experienced this before?

Just being near a Demonic Domain affects the senses of intelligent beings.

The South was a borderland to a Demonic Domain.

And though they didn't know it, the number of monsters had multiplied recently, allowing the Demon Realm's atmosphere to spread this far.

The air in the South was as thick with it as the air inside the Thornbriar Fortress Walls.

"Looks like there's a lot of interesting things in the South,"

Fel added.

Enkrid examined the dead gnoll.

It was of a similar class to the ghoul Jericks.

'A monster that wields Will.'

Should he call it familiar by now?

They were on their way to fight the South, yet it felt as if monsters were blocking their path.

In any case, their destination was now just ahead.

"When we get to the Southern Front, aren't we just going to find it crawling with monsters?"

Rem showed his talent for voicing ominous feelings.

"Everyone thinks that's an unlucky thing to say,"

the Dragonkin interpreted everyone's thoughts.

Luagarne thought that such an unpleasant rain was truly rare.

'The rain of the Demon Realm.'

This rain was imbued with the energy of the Demon Realm.

Whatever the case, the party walked diligently and finally arrived at the Southern border.

"This front line has held for decades,"

Ropord said, feeling his heart pound.

What was this feeling?

He couldn't identify all of it, but one thing was certain: pride.

He was once a member of the Crimson Cloak Knights.

Cypress was a hero's name, and the Crimson Cloak Knights who defended the South were a fortress wall and a dike unto themselves.

The name of the knightly order that had served as a wall and a dike for so long could fairly be called a legend.

The party saw dozens of tents.

Between them, their eyes were drawn to a tall banner depicting a Sun Tree and three swords.

It was the crest of the Naurillia's royal family.

The sound came from between the downpouring sheets of rain.

"Who goes there?"

A soldier with a severed arm blocked their path.

He was guarding the entrance of a wooden fence erected around the tents.

Enkrid saw that a gloom as dreary as the rain had settled over the entire unit.

For an army that had held out for so long, their morale was at rock bottom.

It wasn't hard to see why.

Monster carcasses were visible everywhere, and the stains of black blood were prominent.

The aura emanating from the army was ash-gray.

A black and soot-filled ash-gray.

"Enkrid of the Border Guard."

It was a simple introduction.

The soldier blinked.

He stared with such a look and remained silent.

"Reinforcements," another soldier standing beside him said.

There was no joy in his words.

Only the pervasive ash-gray.

The arrival of reinforcements should have been a cause for celebration, but there was no sign of it.

While Enkrid was talking with the sentries, Audin checked several holy relics erected on poles among the fences.

'They're faint.'

Holy relics were objects that contained divinity.

If the relics were doing their job, fighting monsters inside the camp would have been a rare event.

But that wasn't the case.

There were many signs of battle.

What did the current situation imply?

'The power spouted by the Demon Realm has shaken the holy relics.'

The ominous air had rapidly consumed the divinity dwelling in the relics.

He deduced the process from the result, something possible only because of his deep understanding of divinity.

'They'll need maintenance.'

Just as iron left in the water rusts, the holy relics would regain their original power if they were properly maintained.

'Assuming there's a priest who can channel that power, that is.'

And if not?

They would just have to erect new ones.

The two sentries looked at each other and sent word inside.

One of the commanders watching from behind the soldiers began to move with a limp.

It was not a quick pace.

The sentry was missing an arm, and the commander delivering the message limped.

One of the two soldiers kept his brow furrowed the entire time.

He wore an expression that looked ready to spill a torrent of curses if he opened his mouth.

A face full of dissatisfaction or discomfort.

The atmosphere in the unit was the absolute worst.

As they waited to see who would emerge, an unexpected person appeared.

"We meet again."

Ingis.

A knight of the Crimson Cloak order came out himself.

His faded blond hair, soaked by the rain, represented his current state.

Like a drowned rat, one might say.

And yet, the light in his eyes was not extinguished.

Enkrid observed him carefully.

"Have your skills improved?"

He spoke based on various factors like his posture and the look in his eyes.

"I was fortunate. I heard that you, Sir Enkrid, have improved to an unrecognizable degree."

Ingis returned the sentiment.

The two sentries merely rolled their eyes, observing from the side.

The soldiers trapped in the South were out of touch with news from the rest of the continent.

They were too busy fighting.

They had heard the name of The Madmen Knights, but they were shocked to see Ingis come out in person.

On the Southern Front, the fame of the Crimson Cloak Knights was on par with that of a god of war.

"The situation is quite bad,"

Ingis said, extending a hand to guide them.

"So it seems,"

Enkrid replied, following him.

Ingis's gaze swept over the entire knightly order, starting with Enkrid.

His moniker was the Iron Mask, because he rarely showed emotion on his face and was seldom stirred.

Yet even Ingis's pupils trembled slightly.

'Frog and an elf.'

Those two were unusual, but he already knew about them.

He also knew of Rem, Ragna, and the bear-like beastkin.

He had looked forward to their arrival as soon as he heard The Madmen Knights were coming as reinforcements.

'What is that one?'

Even to a knight's eyes, there was an extraordinary person mixed in.

His pupils were split vertically, he clearly did not look human, and he walked casually even as the falling rain soaked his entire body.

His lemon-blond hair shone faintly even when drenched in the Demon Realm's rain.

'As bizarre as ever.'

The fame of The Madmen Knights was great.

And the name of a knightly order with such fame was 'Madmen.'

They were not in the realm of normal.

Ingis shook off his stray thoughts and quickly returned to his usual self.

Wavering was not good.

One must always have a pillar erected in one's heart.

That was Ingis's talent.

'It's not my place to question it.'

The Southern Front was in a state where it needed to borrow even a child's hands.

The support of a knightly order would be a considerable help.

Whether that order was made of madmen or something else.

'Not that much will change with them alone.'

If this was a battlefield that could be changed by a knight's martial prowess, the Master would have already done it.

What was the biggest problem on the Southern Front right now?

The enemy flew in the sky, but their only response was throwing spears.

'And that's not the only problem.'

If all of this was the South's scheme, it had hit its mark brilliantly.

The rain still hadn't stopped.

The pattering rain soaked their shoulders.

Instead of griffon riders, the rain fell, Drowned Ones emerged, the power of the holy relics in the camp grew faint, the number of injured increased, and something like a plague was spreading.

Nothing was easy.

The Southern Front was doing all it could just to hold on.

'Even that has clear limits.'

Lihin-Stetten did not engage in an all-out war.

They sent spies to Naurillia to sow discord, and on the front, they only sent waves of monsters and griffon riders.

Based on the story he heard from the king and his experiences on the front line, Ingis saw through what the South was aiming for.

'To dry us out and kill us.'

A war of attrition.

Or, they were waiting for all the power of the royal family and Naurillia to be concentrated here.

What should be done here, on the Southern Front?

What new vow had Cypress, the Master, engraved upon his heart?

Ingis's thoughts deepened.