A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 90

Chapter 90: The Correct Answer

The commander of the 4th Platoon, part of the Heavy Infantry Company, was a recently transferred officer.

‘This is bullshit.’

He had volunteered for this monster extermination mission, thinking it would be a good chance to adapt and undergo some real combat training.

Of course, for something like that, the scale was pretty large. After all, their original mission was to exterminate a massive horde of Cynocephali.

Still, it was fine.

Heavy Infantry wasn’t called the Krona-eating division for nothing. The commander was confident in his unit’s power, however, a Harpy suddenly appeared.

It was a troublesome situation. Why the hell would a Harpy show up out of nowhere?

He called for reinforcements. He ordered his unit to form a defensive line with their shields.

However, In the meantime, a few soldiers supporting his unit were killed. While crossbows were uselessly slicing through the air, the reinforcements arrived.

Two Light Infantry soldiers.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

They fearlessly stepped right into the Harpy’s attack range. That was a death sentence. The commander didn’t know who Enkrid and Rem were.

He was still adjusting to the atmosphere within the unit, having recently transferred.

Sure, he had heard something about a Sorcery Breaker and a troublesome Squad Leader, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it.

The moment he saw the two, anger welled up inside him.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!”

The curse slipped out naturally, even though there was always some subtle tension between Heavy and Light Infantry.

Watching your comrades die right in front of your eyes was never something anyone enjoyed. Let alone seeing someone get their head ripped off by a Harpy.

The two Light Infantry soldiers were Enkrid and Rem, and they had rushed ahead to join the fight, leaving the rest of their unit behind. This meant that the archers had yet to arrive.

“Hey, fall back…!”

He was so frantic that the rest of the words never made it out. He wanted to tell them to run, or at least duck.

His unit could withstand the Harpy’s claws and attacks. They were equipped with thick gambeson over mail armor, layered with a breastplate and steel gauntlets, plus greaves on top of it all.

Add to that their square shields and the fortified defensive formation they had established. It was a strategic defensive posture befitting the nickname of the “Turtle Heavy Infantry.”

They could hold out until reinforcements arrived. So, to the Harpies, those two lighter-armored soldiers would seem like easier prey than his unit.

A Harpy, spotting the newly arrived “prey,” swooped down at terrifying speed. The commander’s eyes caught the sight of a red plume streaking downward in a long arc.

Even though he wanted to help, he had no means to do so. At this point, all he could do was watch them die quietly and plan revenge later.

The Harpy’s claws were just about to split the soldier’s head open when,

Shing!

Slash!

The commander’s ears picked up the sound of metal scraping and flesh being sliced.

All he could see was the Harpy’s back. The Harpy’s body was about the size of a grown man, so it blocked his view of what exactly the Light Infantryman had done.

All he could see was one of the Harpy’s wings being torn, its body crashing to the ground like a failed skipping stone, bouncing once in the air before rolling across the ground.

The Harpy’s once-proud red plumage and heaving chest were now soaked in blood, its entire body covered in dirt.

“Kieeeeeeeek!”

The Harpy lay sprawled on the ground, howling in agony. The commander couldn’t even blink.

What the hell was that?

“…Huh?”

A single word of disbelief escaped him as his eyes swept over the scene, shoving everything into the realm of comprehension.

‘A Harpy swooped in.’

And they cut it down with a sword? Is that even possible? It was an unbelievable feat.

What if the Harpy’s claws had been slightly off-target? What if the timing was missed? What if the force wasn’t enough?

Everything about it seemed problematic. Anyone attempting such a feat against a charging Harpy had to be insane.

Where in the world could you find someone who would do such a thing? How many soldiers in the Frontier Slaughterers could even pull this off?

Kreeeeek!

‘Coincidence, luck.’

The commander wasn’t the only one who thought it was just an incredible stroke of luck. Overhead, two more Harpies began circling and diving down at them again.

They were fast. He could almost hear the sound of their claws slicing through the air. The commander’s eyes were fixed on the two Light Infantry soldiers who had come as reinforcements.

The Harpies were attacking from a different angle than before. He clearly saw how the two soldiers responded.

Even though he saw it, he had no words to describe it, as their movements were still beyond his understanding.

The soldier wielding an axe twisted his body to dodge the incoming claws and then swung his axe.

He was only aware that the axe had been swung. By the time he realized, the Harpy’s head had already been split vertically with a loud crack.

The decapitated Harpy plummeted to the ground and burst like an overripe tomato, leaving a bloody streak on the ground along with its splattered remains.

One more Harpy dead.

He had witnessed the axe strike. The other soldier performed a similar feat.BThe first soldier who had torn the Harpy’s wing now raised his sword and delivered another vertical slash.

How was this even possible?

The sword had barely been swung when the Harpy lunged straight into its blade. It was as if the Harpy’s movements had been anticipated, resulting in a perfectly timed slash.

If this wasn’t a feat, what was it?

Thud!

This time, though, the sword strike was slightly off-target, hitting the Harpy in the chest. The soldier’s sword split the Harpy’s torso in half, but he lost his grip on the weapon.

Not that it made any difference.

Keek.

The sword was embedded between the Harpy’s two breasts, resembling a woman’s chest.

The monster tumbled to the ground, spraying more blood as it rolled across the dirt. Its innards were shredded and crushed, so it was as good as dead.

The commander couldn’t help but raise his gaze upward.

There were still eight Harpies left. His unit hadn’t even killed one, but these two had already taken down three.

‘Frontier Slaughterers?’

The commander misjudged them. Their skills were too overwhelming to be mere soldiers. Was this what being a special forces soldier meant?

He had heard rumors about the Frontier Slaughterers before his transfer, but he didn’t think it was to this extent.

The commander’s eyes caught sight of a group approaching behind the two soldiers. They were all armed with ranged weapons like javelins, longbows, and crossbows.

They wore cloaks with eagle emblems on their epaulets. These were the real Frontier Slaughterers. The soldier leading them also took note of the situation, witnessing it firsthand.

‘Their skills…’

They had improved even more. It was now impossible to say they could be easily defeated. The leader of the Slaughterers was Torres.

He was a platoon leader with ties to Enkrid, a member of the Frontier Slaughterers. Judging someone’s skills solely by the number of monsters they’ve killed would be foolish.

But Torres knew he couldn’t pull off such feats against an oncoming Harpy, not even twice in a row.

‘Was it luck?’

Torres thought the same thing as the Heavy Infantry platoon commander. At that moment, a third Harpy swooped down.

Torres’s eyes moved from the Harpy to the ground. There he saw Enkrid, pulling his sword from the chest of the recently slain Harpy.

“Hey!”

Torres shouted, a warning for Enkrid to look up.

What could he call this?

Enkrid had connected the dots. He had split time. He swung his sword as his instincts dictated. As a result, he had cut off the first Harpy’s wing.

“Whew.”

Beside him, Rem whistled. The lingering, exhilarating resistance in his grip told him of the heavy weight of the charging Harpy he had just killed.

It was worth cutting.

No problem. He gripped his sword again. Another Harpy was coming, and this time, he slashed right through its chest and released his grip on the sword.

Holding onto it would have torn his hand apart. His decision was spot on. A strike that connected the dots, and a sword strike with power behind it. The result was the death of a monster.

As Enkrid ducked and brought down his sword, a Harpy’s claws whizzed past his head. The sound of it slicing through the air was chilling, but it didn’t feel dangerous.

‘Just dodge it.’

It was a simple attack pattern. Dodge, cut, stab. It was an application of swordsmanship.

Taking quick steps, Enkrid placed his foot on the heaving chest of the dead Harpy, where a human’s collarbone would be, and yanked out his sword.

Kreeeeek.

Its life was tenacious. Even though its chest was half-split and its innards were spilling out, it blinked its eyes.

It was still alive.

Enkrid was watching the Harpy he had just cut down, but his senses were focused on the surroundings, particularly the Harpy plummeting from above.

He didn’t need to see it, he could feel the disturbance in the air.

His senses were sharper than ever.

“Hey!”

He heard the shout, but he was already moving before the warning reached him. He thrust the tip of his sword into the dying Harpy’s wing and pushed with all his strength.

Crunch!

The strain spread from his arm muscles down through his waist and thighs as he lifted the dying Harpy into the air.

Thud!

The diving Harpy collided with the one Enkrid had just thrown and was sent tumbling.

After blocking the incoming Harpy with another Harpy, Enkrid rolled to the side, using a technique to disperse the impact. It was a calculated move, a deliberate action to absorb and dissipate the shock from the collision.

As soon as he finished his roll, Enkrid sprang to his feet and dashed towards the Harpy’s head lying on the ground, bringing his sword down in a decisive blow. Like chopping wood, his blade split the Harpy’s head with a loud crack.

That made four. Rem had killed one, and Enkrid had taken down three.

The first Harpy that fell had already been finished off by one of the nearby soldiers who had lodged a quarrel in its head.

The flock of Harpies flapping their wings above began to scatter one by one. Harpies were creatures that didn’t fight battles they couldn’t win.

The monsters fled.

Enkrid, his arms hanging limply at his sides, swallowed his disappointment.

‘Just a few more…’

He wanted to keep fighting. He needed more experience. He was still in the process of absorbing and digesting what he had learned.

To adapt and fully grasp what he had gained, he needed more real combat. Then he might be able to fully integrate what he had acquired in the sewers.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Rem chuckled beside him. Being the quick-witted barbarian he was, he seemed to have already figured out Enkrid’s state of mind.

“Some might call you crazy, but I’d say your skills have reached a remarkable level. But man, I have to admit it’s strange. I thought you needed more real combat, but how did you improve so much in just a day?”

Though he wasn’t prying too deeply, Rem voiced his doubts. It was only natural. Who could achieve such rapid growth in just a day with the worst possible talent?

Enkrid repeated the same excuse he always did.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Rem knew that no amount of luck could result in such a dramatic improvement. But he didn’t intend to argue the point.

What did it matter?

Seeing this guy so thrilled to swing his sword was entertaining for him too.

“There was a time when I barely escaped with my life from a Harpy.”

Enkrid muttered quietly.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t a statement filled with emotion or meaning, just a simple recollection of a past event. Enkrid briefly thought of the comrades he had lost back then and then brushed the thought away.

‘This isn’t really revenge.’

But at least there was satisfaction in killing the Harpy horde. The lingering sense of regret was inevitable.

“Hey, your unit— wait, never mind.”

The platoon commander, who had been holding the defensive formation like a turtle shell, approached. He looked bewildered.

“I’m Enkrid, 4th Platoon, 4th Company, 4th Squad Leader.”

Enkrid responded with a salute.

“A squad leader? You’re not with the Frontier Slaughterers?”

No, he wasn’t.

“The Frontier Slaughterers are over there.”

An old acquaintance, Torres, approached. He raised his hand as he spoke.

Even as he did, his eyes never left Enkrid. His gaze traveled from Enkrid’s head to his toes, as if trying to figure out what exactly had happened.

How had he improved so much?

“We came as reinforcements, but…”

They hadn’t even fired a single arrow.

What the hell was going on here?

Soon, the Heavy Infantry platoon commander and Torres exchanged brief introductions and assessed the situation.

Enkrid, listening to their conversation, suddenly spoke up. It was an issue of considerable importance to him.

“Is it over?”

“…What are you asking?”

“I’m asking if the monster extermination is over.”

What the hell? Why is he asking that? Two Light Infantry soldiers had just killed four Harpies.

While it wasn’t a monumental achievement, it was enough to deserve recognition. Yet here was one of them seriously asking if it was over.

The other one, who looked like an outsider, was busy laughing beside him. What is this insane duo?

The platoon commander pondered as he replied.

“Our primary target was the Cynocephali horde, so no, it’s not over.”

The commander hadn’t forgotten their original mission. A horde of Cynocephali had formed around the Border Guard Fortress City, halting the movement of trade caravans and traveling merchants.

That was the reason they had set out.

Though the horde hadn’t appeared directly on the route outside the city, the fact that individual Cynocephali had been sighted nearby meant trouble was imminent.

Their mission was to clear out the surrounding monsters and beasts to ensure the city’s safety.

“I’d like to join the operation.”

At Enkrid’s request, the platoon commander thought for a moment.

‘Does he want to fight more? He seems eager to fight. Am I seeing things?’

No, his eyes weren’t deceiving him; they were spot on. The platoon commander had guessed correctly.