A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 131

Chapter 131: The Course of Battle Turned by a Single Sparring Match

Rem was ecstatic.

Ragna was fired up, burning with newfound enthusiasm.

Audin, too, felt like he had found an answer during his sparring match with Enkrid.

His prayers to the Lord had always been filled with questions, but there had never been an answer.

The Lord wielded silence as a weapon, leaving it to mortals to find answers within that quiet.

Yet sometimes, just sometimes, Audin believed that the Lord offered answers in other ways—through something or someone.

And on that day, through sparring, Audin felt that Enkrid had delivered such an answer. Or at least, it felt that way.

“What can that man possibly gain through such tireless effort? Will his hard work bear fruit?”

Audin’s questions about one man’s perseverance soon touched upon the deeper dilemmas he’d carried for years.

“You say protect the weak, yet why do you not shield them? Why do you not reward their efforts?”

Strength and weakness. Good and evil.

Ancient questions.

Why did those he deemed “evil” prosper while those he thought “good” suffer?

He had seen righteous weaklings and righteous strong men fall. He had seen evil flourish in the temples—the very cradle and foundation of the Lord’s creation.

Why did the Lord only watch?

Why did He not intervene?

And why did the Inquisitors, those who claimed to uphold the faith, only bind the powerless with thorns and drag them to their deaths?

Why did the Lord allow that, too?

Amidst all that, there was a man who lived with an unyielding determination to drain an entire river with nothing but his hands.

A man who stood unwavering before him, unchanged day after day, like the rising sun.

If God truly existed, then he must have sent this man as an answer. He could not turn away from someone who burned so brightly, living with such conviction.

Whether divine intervention had truly occurred, Audin didn’t know. He couldn’t.

But it didn’t matter.

Knowing Enkrid and spending time with him had taught Audin something.

“The questions are within me.”

And so were the answers.

Through sparring, Audin felt he had found a response to his own questions. To be honest, it was freeing. The weight lifted off his chest left him feeling light.

So light, in fact, that he could now crush the skulls of a few enemies without hesitation. It was this that had driven Audin to step forward after his sparring match with Enkrid.

Rem had joined. Ragna had joined.

Nobody would know for sure, but the direction of this battle had shifted because of Enkrid’s relentless spirit.

That one sparring match had shaken the hearts of all his squad members, driving them onto the battlefield.

“Lord, I send these souls to remain by your side today.”

Killing could be a sin, but it wasn’t always one. All religions reflected the times they lived in, and Audin’s was no exception. His God did not shy away from bloodshed.

When necessary, it was acceptable. Even now, he could send as many souls as needed to serve by the Lord’s side without holding back.

Audin stepped forward decisively. The soldiers around him whispered before falling silent.

“Those blessed by the Goddess of Fortune would do well to step back.”

Audin’s voice carried compassion and mercy. With the mist so thick, visibility extended no further than the immediate vicinity.

An enemy soldier spotted him and sneered.

“Trying to imitate our Giant, are you?”

It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. Audin let out a faint smile. He wasn’t offended. Not in the least.

He would send them to the Lord’s side, give them a chance to beg for forgiveness. Why waste time being upset?

This moment was no place for a mortal’s petty grievances.

“I do not imitate anyone, my brother.”

“Brother? My ass.”

They were only a few steps apart now, locked in a standoff. Audin began counting aloud.

“Five.”

No one understood the significance of the number.

“What the hell is he mumbling? Kill him!”

This battlefield, ignited by the Giant’s appearance, had already stirred the soldiers’ blood.

A soldier from the Azpen forces lunged with his spear.

Thunk.

Audin deflected the spearhead with the back of his hand, softly guiding it aside. The spear slipped along his hand and veered off course.

The soldier nearly stumbled before regaining his balance.

“Four.”

Audin continued counting.

“This bastard—!”

The soldier made a hand signal, commanding his squad. He was a squad leader.

The rest of his squad quickly surrounded Audin. Spears were the best weapons an infantryman could carry.

Now ten spearheads were aimed directly at Audin, all focusing on him.

“Three.”

Audin counted again.

“You’re out of your goddamned mind.”

The squad leader cursed, but he felt uneasy. A chill ran down his spine, and his stomach churned.

What had just happened?

Who deflects a spear barehanded like that?

Was he wearing something under those thin white gloves? They didn’t look like combat gauntlets.

And why were his hands so absurdly large?

“Two.”

Before he could make sense of it, the countdown continued. The squad leader spat on the ground and barked his order.

“Kill him.”

At the exact moment the command was given—

“One.”

Audin uttered the final number.

It was his last mercy, his final act of compassion. A warning for anyone who carried the Goddess’s coin to retreat.

Not today.

Today, he would act as the God of War’s agent. He didn’t intend to fully embody the War God’s apostle—not yet. This wasn’t the time.

But if the enemy forces wanted to send a Giant his way, so be it. If he was going to invoke the name of the God of War, he wanted a real fight to prove his worth.

“Well then.”

Audin spoke calmly as spears flew toward him.

And with that final word, he moved. He reached for his weapon. It wasn’t one he could call a favorite. His favored weapon had been left behind at the temple.

This was just a substitute.

A plain wooden club, oil-treated but unadorned. No studs or iron reinforcements.

But it would do.

Whoosh.

From the enemy’s perspective, Audin seemed to vanish as they thrust their spears. But that wasn’t the case. He had simply bent backward, arching low to avoid the strikes.

Three soldiers had aimed simultaneously, all targeting his chest.

Audin, moving with unnatural flexibility, pressed his feet into the ground and rose in one fluid motion.

With a simple swing of his club—

Thwack!

A wide, sweeping arc sent all three spears clattering to the side.

“Ahh!”

The soldiers staggered, thrown off balance. Audin stepped forward.

And his club came down.

Thunk!

One swing, one shattered skull.

Thunk, thunk!

Three swings, three skulls crushed. It happened in an instant. Audin, despite his size, moved with the speed of a squirrel.

“What the—?”

More enemies charged, launching spears and throwing knives. Audin avoided most, caught a few, and hurled them back with deadly precision.

When he closed the distance, his club struck again.

Thunk!

Heads burst like overripe melons, their contents spilling out. From behind him, a Naurillian soldier muttered, “He’s a monster.”

It wasn’t complicated. Dodge, strike, and win. Everyone knew the formula. The difference was in execution—few could actually pull it off.

Thunk!

Another head burst.

At first, he wielded only his club. When the enemy responded with arrows, he began using his feet as well. From that point on, it was like watching a cavalry charge.

Everyone who approached was flung away.

“Hahaha!”

All the while, Audin let out a boisterous laugh.

“May the God of War’s blessing be with us!”

And then he shouted again. If he was insane, he was utterly committed to it.

Of course, for the Naurillian soldiers watching, there was relief. At least this madman was on their side.

“Everyone, charge forward!”

The command center quickly adapted to the shifting tide, ordering the army to push ahead. Audin rampaged in the middle of the enemy ranks.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Even the most skilled fighters of the Gray Hounds attempted to face him.

But—

“Welcome, my brother!”

Audin feinted with his club, then spun on his left foot, driving his right leg forward in a kick.

Crack!

The mid-level strike folded the enemy soldier’s body in half.

What kind of kick was that?

It was like he had steel weights strapped to his feet. The man’s body bent inward, his insides rupturing. Blood vessels burst in his face, and his eyes turned crimson.

His lifeless body crashed into several other soldiers, toppling them like dominoes.

“What the hell is he?”

From the enemy’s perspective, it was incomprehensible. Audin fought like a ravenous antlion, devouring everything that approached.

Audin’s rampage continued unabated. No matter what the enemy tried, they could neither overwhelm nor outmaneuver him.

It wasn’t just his sheer power—it was the way he moved. It was the precision of every swing, the way his strikes always found their mark, the brutal efficiency with which he dispatched every foe.

Even as the battlefield raged around him, he remained an unshakable force, cutting through the chaos like a gale.

Meanwhile, the Elf Company Commander, Sinar, stood face-to-face with an opponent.

Another elf.

Meeting one of her own kind on the battlefield wasn’t particularly unusual these days.

The world had changed. Long gone were the days when elves lived clustered together in secluded forests.

Closed societies like that inevitably faded. When they faded, they were forgotten. Whether they were gods or elves, those who lived in isolation eventually surrendered their homes to invaders.

Somewhere along the way, decisions made by the previous generations of elves had altered the fate of their descendants.

Among those decisions was the choice to trade their years for Krona. Whether as mercenaries or in exchange for some other price, many elves had entered military service.

Thus, Sinar thought, there wasn’t much difference between her and the elf standing before her.

Whether for Krona or some other goal, they now faced each other as enemies.

“Needle-blade?”

The elf across from her carried a weapon similar to her own—a fine, slender Needle Blade designed for precise thrusts.

It was a traditional elven weapon, but its purpose here was clear—to kill.

“You’re one of us,” the elf from Azpen remarked, his voice sharp and cutting.

He had a cold, resolute expression, with cropped hair and a tightly set jaw. Most elves were stubborn, and Sinar wasn’t about to deny that she shared that trait.

The tip of the man’s blade was stained red, blood dripping steadily onto the ground. Around them, their respective forces had pulled back, creating a wide circle.

On one side stood a company commander. On the other, a soldier armed with a blade that had been prepared specifically for moments like this.

“If you run, I won’t chase you down.”

The man’s voice was harsh, his words dismissive as though he was offering her an easy way out. Sinar’s response was to draw her own blade.

Shing.

The sound of her Needle Blade—a Leaf Blade—ringing free from its sheath cut through the air.

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

The two closed the distance in an instant, their weapons flashing. The duel didn’t last long.

Sinar was far above her opponent in skill, experience, and precision. Whether it was natural talent, training, or sheer adaptability, the male elf fell short in every way.

In a handful of exchanges, Sinar’s blade found its mark.

Slash!

Her Needle Blade grazed the elf’s neck, the strike clean and fatal.

The man clutched his throat, blood pouring through his fingers as he collapsed forward.

Sinar stood over him, her blade dripping. But instead of satisfaction, all she felt was a deep sense of disgust.

“Filthy bastards.”

This had been a trap. She realized now that the male elf had been bait. At least three distinct killing intents had circled her while she’d been focused on the duel.

This had all been a ploy to draw her attention, to distract her long enough for assassins to strike.

Their objective was clear—to assassinate a commander. It wasn’t a bad plan, she supposed. It might have even worked had they been a little luckier.

But luck had abandoned them. The killing intents she’d sensed earlier were now gone.

There were only two possible reasons for this. Either the assassins had fled after deciding the attempt was futile, or…

Someone else had taken care of them.

The answer revealed itself as a man stepped into view. He casually wiped his blade clean on the corpse’s clothing, his expression as calm as if he’d just been out for a stroll.

His brown eyes gleamed faintly red in the light, complementing his auburn hair.

The slight waves in his hair gave it a rugged charm, and not a speck of blood marred its surface.

In all the time Sinar had known Jaxon, she’d never seen him get dirty during a fight.

He was always spotless.

Ah, well—except for that one time. After spending an evening in a brothel, his clothes had been a disaster. She remembered seeing him emerge, clearly having had his fun.

“And here?”

“Nothing left to do.”

Sinar asked, and Jaxon answered.

He was no different from the others. Watching Enkrid’s growth had left him restless, eager to contribute.

There was something about being around Enkrid that made him itch to move, to act.

His hands had itched, too. And his blade.

So when the opportunity arose, he’d decided to join in. Pushing through the mist, Jaxon had silently eliminated the three assassins who’d been targeting Sinar.

It wasn’t a difficult task for him.

The assassins were elves, and their skills were excellent by ordinary standards.

But to Jaxon, they were little more than minor inconveniences. They relied on talent honed through innate ability rather than rigorous training.

That made them easy targets for someone like him.

“Leaving your commander behind?”

Sinar asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaxon tilted his head, his expression thoughtful.

“If he were going to die in a place like this, he’d already be dead.”

It was high praise.

There was no doubt in his voice—Jaxon trusted Enkrid completely. At this point, he didn’t even feel the need to check on him.

Next time.

He thought to himself.

Next time, it wouldn’t be about basic steps. He’d need to teach something more advanced. If Enkrid had already unlocked the door to intuition, then—

“Observe and react.”

That was the next stage. The kind of skill that took time and effort to master. Had he ever taught someone this before?

No, he hadn’t.

“Hah.”

Jaxon let out a soft sigh, realizing how deeply he was thinking about all this.

He didn’t have to teach Enkrid, not really. Sinar, noticing his sigh, misinterpreted it.

“The battalion commander isn’t a fool. He knows how to read the tide of battle.”

She thought his sigh was frustration with the army’s lack of movement.

That wasn’t it.

But Jaxon, ever the master at hiding his thoughts, didn’t bother correcting her.

The Elf Company Commander assumed that the man standing before her—who had just effortlessly dispatched three assassins—was simply impatient for the tide of the battle to turn.

Her words, however, reached the ears of nearby soldiers. If the tide was changing, it meant victory was near.

“Reform the ranks!”

At her command, five company members, who had been following as her guard, quickly assembled behind her.

Moments later, horns blared from all directions, and runners carried new orders.

Just as she had predicted, Marcus had caught the shift in the battlefield’s momentum.