A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 129

Chapter 129: Heart of Monstrous Strength

Bell stood among the soldiers at the front.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He was unlucky. He might have been better off dying in the first strike.

A Giant.

There was no way to retreat. Shouldn’t this be something for the First Company to handle?

Or maybe the Border Guard?

The Turtle Heavy Armor Unit was positioned on the left flank of their formation. But as for the Border Guard? Not even a shadow of them was in sight, as if they’d all gone drinking.

Bell felt sweat running down his back. His hands tingled with tension. He could barely keep his legs from shaking.

The Giant was just standing there, smirking, not even doing anything. But then again, the first swing of that hammer had already shown them everything it could do.

One strike, a scene of absolute carnage wrought by monstrous strength—anyone who was unaffected by that had something wrong with their head.

“Damn.”

Bell knew he was about to die. Once that hammer moved, it would be his turn. The frontline had broken, and somehow he was now standing right there at the front.

“This is hell.”

The squad leader beside him muttered.

His face didn’t look any better either. From the wild look in his eyes, it was a miracle he hadn’t already shouted for a retreat.

Not that they could even try to flee; the frontline commanders standing behind them would just cut them down.

Oddly, seeing his squad leader as scared as he was brought Bell some comfort.

Hell, he might as well just die. The moment he’d stepped onto the battlefield, his life had been a mortgage in heaven.

It looked like the debt collector had come knocking, and Bell decided to make his peace with that.

“We’re all dying anyway.”

Bell said aloud. His squad leader looked at him, and Bell shot him a grin of complete resignation.

“I just wish I could take a toe or two.”

It was said a Giant’s hide was so tough that it couldn’t be cut with an ordinary blade.

Would that really be the case? Maybe if he got in close and scraped and sawed at it?

Even if it were dragon bone, he figured he might be able to cut it if he got in close enough to saw at it. Who knows—maybe he’d try it.

“The beauty of battle is…”

Bell spoke. His tone was anything but bitter—it was one of resolve.

Since he’d already staked his life, he might as well go all out. Only a fool would stand still waiting for lightning to strike.

He’d learned that from Enkrid. A man who just didn’t know the meaning of the word “give up.”

How could anyone fight alongside him and not learn a thing or two?

Bell had learned, and he was going to put it into action. In response, the squad leader mumbled reflexively.

“We’re infantry.”

Yes, it was time to fight. In other words, it was time to die. Or, perhaps, a road toward dying. Right on cue, the Giant lifted the hammer it had let hang to the ground.

Grind.

A metal slab rose, scraping against the gravel.

As the mist slowly receded, the hammerhead appeared, smeared with chunks of flesh and blood like a loaf mashed and smashed.

He could see it clearly, much too clearly. That was death, his mortgaged debt.

“Hrrh hrrh.”

The Giant chuckled with that awful cave-like laughter, raising the hammer once more. While it had been swung downward before, this time the giant lifted it high, and was poised to sweep it sideways. Maybe the giant wanted to kill as many as it could in one go?

Bell was busy calculating if he could dodge it. If he crouched low, would he survive?

Would that massive hammer really reach all the way down?

No, it wouldn’t.

The Giant bent its knees. The hammerhead was too big. Swinging it at that angle—it would take a jump to dodge it.

Otherwise, they’d have to move out of the hammer’s entire range.

“This is bullshit! You bastards!”

A soldier behind him wailed.

“Where’s the retreat signal? Didn’t you hear a whistle?”

A rookie. Still green.

“Damn, shit, hell, those assholes.”

Another soldier cursed, spewing one insult after another. The Giant knew how to fight. Had it rushed them right away, it couldn’t have created this situation.

The brief pause had sewn terror into the allied ranks. The Giant had broken their spirits first.

“Hrrr!”

The Giant’s battle cry was beastly. And with that, it unleashed the blow it had prepared.

Whoosh!

Once again, air shattered as an inhuman strength sent the hammerhead hurtling forward.

Thunk!

Bell had no choice but to hug his shield close to his body and try to take the hit mid-jump.

With luck, he might survive. Of course, he knew he’d probably die. But he still tried to hold on.

As death fell upon every soldier’s eyes…

Bell could no longer even see the hammer moving.

Instead—

Fwip—a shadow dashed forward.

What?

Before he could make sense of what was happening—

BANG!

A deafening noise pounded his ears. It was such a brutal impact that he felt himself being pushed backward by the shockwave.

Then Bell saw it.

“…What the hell?”

A curse escaped his lips, his astonishment genuine. It was one of those moments where swearing just couldn’t be helped.

“Hey, you dumb, oversized bastard. How about playing with someone your own size?”

The shadow ahead spoke. It was a soldier’s back—an ally.

Though he seemed tiny in front of the Giant, he was gripping axes in both hands, blocking the hammer. The veins bulged in his forearms, and he’d torn off the arms of his gambeson to wear his armor like a vest.

But he’d held his ground.

His feet slid slightly on the gravel, leaving marks, but he’d stopped the blow. What the hell was this? Bell’s brain struggled to take in the scene.

And then.

“…We’re alive.”

A rookie spoke, his voice shaking, as he wept. The sound echoed in everyone’s ears.

As Bell took in everything, his chest felt full. He almost started crying himself.

The joy of survival, mixed with—

The back of the man who struck terror in friend and foe alike was as reassuring as it could be.

The Giant was a monster, a Red-Blooded Beast. A creature that worshiped violence and was addicted to carnage.

So what?

There was one here too.

A madman, a monster. One who struck terror into his own side just by fighting.

“Got honey on your mouth? Why so quiet?”

The monster spoke, in that same damned manner he always did. But today, it sounded like the orchestra of heaven.

“You little fucker!”

The Giant raged, while Rem sneered.

What an idiot.

Rem was in an amazing mood. So good it brought back memories of his first battle.

Thanks to that sparring match with the Platoon Leader. Was it normal to feel this great after just one match?

Maybe it was just that so much had been pent up. With his pent-up frustration finally released, Rem was ready to give this fight everything.

He also wanted Enkrid to see.

Watch closely.

This is what you’ll be learning next. Even as a child, Rem had never blinked, even with an axe blade flying toward him.

And that same Rem had learned and trained himself in the Heart of the Beast.

If it only gave him calmness and courage, he would never have bothered. Something useless like that would never be worth it.

Of course, it was useful, and that’s why he’d learned, trained, and honed it. Because the Heart of the Beast didn’t stop at giving courage. From this point, what he’d use was nearly half his own creation.

Something not of his tribe but uniquely his.

Thump.

His heart beat twice as fast, pumping blood through his entire body. The blood flow and circulation in his body sped up.

Thump-thump-thump-thump!

His blood vessels expanded, his muscles swelled, and his muscle density shifted. The ritual magic technique starting from his heart gave him monstrous strength.

Rem decided to call this the Heart of Monstrous Strength. His tribe only used it as an anti-aging technique.

In practice, only Rem used it this way.

Those who learned it wrong would either die from a burst heart, burst blood vessels, or muscle necrosis.

In any case, it wasn’t an easy technique to learn. He’d told Enkrid to watch and learn, but it would ultimately be his choice.

If Enkrid decided to learn it, Rem would teach him step-by-step, making sure he wouldn’t die in the process. It’d be painful, but Enkrid could endure it—he had a high pain tolerance.

Blocking the Giant’s hammer, Rem poured his monstrous strength into his axe.

Thunk!

The hammer crashed down at terrifying speed, and Rem swung his axe to deflect it.

Crack! Crunch! Pop!

The axe blade couldn’t withstand the force and shattered. It practically exploded. Even after deflecting as much of the impact as possible, this was the result.

Rem flicked his left arm outward, letting the broken axe shards fly off.

Some shards embedded themselves in the wood armor on the Giant’s body.

Should’ve brought a better weapon?

Though he could always use a club like some religious fanatic, axes just felt best in his hands.

Thunk.

He tossed aside the axe handle, flipping up a spear lying near his foot.

Left hand, spear. Right hand, axe.

Holding a weapon in each hand, Rem grinned. A grin of utter satisfaction, delighted to have a worthy opponent at last—this, after his high spirits from sparring with Enkrid.

“Hey, let’s have some real fun.”

The battle between them became ferocious. So intense no one could come near them.

Boom! Boom! Clang! Crash!

Rem would grab a spear from the ground to stab, then swing with his axe. When his weapons broke, he’d pick up more lying around.

As they started running out—

“Hey, throw them!”

Quick on the uptake, Bell threw his weapon.

Spears, hand axes—anything at hand.

Someone even threw a dagger aiming at the Giant’s eye, though the Giant turned his head, catching it on his forehead.

Thud!

What the hell was its skin made of?

The dagger blade couldn’t even scratch it and spun off into the air. Then, what kind of monster was Rem, who was fighting against it?

Who knows? The only thing that was certain was that this monster was protecting them.

Enkrid watched Rem’s battle. It was fierce, It was deadly and bove all—

“He’s matching the Giant’s strength?”

Then was his strength superior even to a Frog’s? So that’s it. This was what he meant by watch and learn.

Thump.

His heart pounded. He knew there was something new to learn. For Enkrid, the desire to learn was his most fundamental craving.

“Guess I’d better head out. Can’t watch him playing around any longer.”

Beside him, Ragna spoke.

Rem seemed to be enjoying himself against the Giant. Seeing it, Enkrid understood. Even though he could kill, Rem was still playing around.

Why?

For me to see?

The thought crossed his mind, though he doubted it. It seemed he was just having fun.

“Let’s get to work.”

Ragna seemed restless. Why? Why was he so eager to fight? A guy who usually had zero motivation.

“Come on.”

Seeing Ragna’s eagerness, Enkrid started moving too. He’d seen enough of Rem’s show. Ragna should have been heading toward the right, but he kept veering off.

Enkrid steered him back on course.

“If we clear just this side, that should be enough.”

Kraiss said as he stuck close behind.

Maybe so. Enkrid couldn’t see the entire battlefield. Only the here and now mattered.

As they moved right, he saw the enemy gathered there. A group of about ten, looking completely relaxed.

What was this?

Some kind of twist of fate?

As they got close enough to see faces, Enkrid recognized the man standing in the center.

Why was he here?

The man recognized him too. To be fair, Enkrid’s face was hard to forget—a strikingly handsome man.

“You—you’re alive?”

The man blinked in surprise and smiled, his eyes narrowing in an oddly unpleasant way. With his triangular eyes twisted, it was far from a friendly expression.

“Yes.”

Enkrid responded indifferently, and Ragna glanced over in question.

An acquaintance?

“From my mercenary days…”

Enkrid started to explain, then cut it short.

“A bastard I met back then.”

Yes, that was all the garbage he needed to say.

A filthy bastard who stabbed his allies in the back, raped women, and then killed them. He should’ve killed him back then.

He’d heard he fled after assaulting a noble—so he’d ended up here?

“Hey, is that how you greet an old friend?”

Friend? Enkrid was rarely so disgusted.

Friends with this trash?

Ragna looked at him again.

“No, a bastard.”

Giving the short, blunt answer again, Ragna nodded.

“Hah, yeah, you’ve always had a slick tongue. But how’d you survive? Found someone to lay under?”

Even back in his mercenary days, he’d heard that kind of insult often. It was the face—people said it because of his looks.

Even in the army, he’d still heard it.

It’d been a while since he’d last heard it. Lately, no one had dared to say such things to him.

Because he’d proven himself through skill, no one could mock him that way now. So Enkrid easily brushed off the taunt.

Ragna didn’t care either. The guy was as good as dead anyway.

“I’ll cut him down then.”

Ragna said and stepped aside. Looked like he was claiming the other nine.

“Three against just the ten of us?”

“I’m not fighting. These two will handle you.”

Kraiss said from behind. Enkrid took in the scene. What had this group of ten done?

It was obvious none of the allies nearby were eager to face them. He noticed the bodies strewn around.

Corpses full of gaping wounds. It was evidence of the weapon this bastard liked to use.

Enkrid’s gaze drifted over the rest of the bodies, noting the stab and slash wounds from swords, spears, and daggers.

Yet the wounds looked strangely nasty. The puncture wounds too, as if they’d been inflicted with some twisted, torturous intent.

“They’re blades soaked in blood. They seek to improve their skills through killing. It’s fine. I’ve said it before—those who don’t walk the right path always reach a limit.”

Ragna said beside him.

That was true. He’d warned him that if he stuck to the Vallen mercenary sword style, he’d hit a wall. So, he’d taken those words to heart. He rebuilt his foundations and moved forward again.

It was the signpost on his path.

Enkrid drew his sword.

Shiiing.

“I’ll take this one.”

As Ragna had said, it was a matter of vengeance and unfinished business.

Enkrid was honoring the memory of his comrades who had their hearts torn out by harpies…

By cutting off the head of that depraved piece of trash.