Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 103: Is This Love?

*“Is the goddess of fortune cursing me?”*

As a new day began, Encrid gazed upward at the sky.

The blue moon dominated his view, its brightness filling his eyes. Dawn had yet to break, and because he had risen so early, he was still seeing the same moon he had seen before falling asleep.

It was exceptionally bright.

*“When you think about it, doesn’t it seem that way?”*

The ferryman in his dreams spoke of walls and obstacles, but in reality, he just kept dying miserably, over and over.

This time was no different.

He had tried countless times to exploit gaps in the enemy’s formation, yet every time, misfortune struck at the worst moments.

When he targeted a spearman’s foot and pushed forward, a sudden cascade of dirt from above buried him.

Why did part of the ceiling collapse at that exact moment?

Why did the dirt have to fall into his eyes?

It didn’t end there.

He had charged along the fortress wall to strike the mage, only for a section of the seemingly solid wall to crumble beneath his footing.

Other instances were equally unlucky.

One lycanthrope had its heart on the opposite side of its body, a mutation that defied the usual rules.

And when he sought a moment’s rest by leaning against a tree, it turned out to be rotted and unable to support him, causing him to lose balance at a critical juncture.

This streak of bad luck wasn’t new.

Wasn’t being born without natural talent a form of misfortune too?

*”Is this some joke from the goddess?”*

He wanted to ask but knew there would be no answer.

Not that he truly expected one. It was just a way to mark the beginning of this particular day.

Today began with a greeting to the goddess.

He rose and began his training, using the *Isolation Technique.*

He moved in a crouched stance, lowering his body so that one knee was almost touching the ground.

As he immersed himself in training, others began to wake and stir.

Encrid sought out a reconnaissance member and asked, “Could you make something like this? I want to use it as a secret stash pouch.”

He explained further—it was a cloth pouch meant to be secured inside his sleeve, preferably with a firm attachment.

Given that they had time to salt ham and prepare various tools, they likely wouldn’t need him to provide materials.

“Huh? Well, sure, it won’t take long. But shouldn’t you be heading out soon this morning?”

“It’d be great if you could finish it before then,” Encrid replied.

The soldier blinked before nodding. “Alright, sure. Hey, cover my watch for me,” he called to another.

The comrade’s cheerful compliance earned a grateful pat on the shoulder from Encrid.

When his training was done, Finn approached him.

“Starting the day with an impressive show, huh?” she remarked, noticing Encrid practicing with his shirt off, swinging his sword.

“Do you know how to use a crossbow?” he asked.

“Is that even a question? It’s a basic ranger skill.”

Knowing she’d ask why he brought it up, Encrid preemptively replied, “Just curious.”

“…I have no idea how to respond to that,” she muttered.

“What’s the trick to muffling your footsteps with boots?”

“Oh, this?” Finn gestured to her boots. “This area has lots of sensitive beasts. So I layer fabric on the soles and stuff cotton inside the boots.”

Of course, Encrid wasn’t asking because he didn’t know.

“That’s a clever trick. I’d like that for my boots too.”

“Not hard to do.”

“Torres?”

“You want me to do it too?”

“There are lots of beasts around, apparently.”

“Not like we’ll run into them often,” Finn added, though she didn’t protest further.

Two members set to work modifying their boots.

“These boots are well-made. You can tell a lot of effort went into them,” one remarked as he examined Encrid’s boots.

It was satisfying to hear—the cobbler who had crafted them, back during the sewer incident with the corpse enthusiast, had indeed taken great care.

Adding layers of fabric and stuffing them with cotton didn’t take long.

Training completed and soundless boots ready, Encrid received the pouch he’d requested earlier that morning.

It was designed to slip inside his sleeve, secured by a drawstring around his wrist, and was expertly sewn.

The craftsmanship far surpassed that of their squad leader, who was notorious for his crude handiwork.

Encrid had specifically requested this particular soldier, already familiar with his skill after having assigned similar tasks to various others in the past.

Finn’s attempts, for instance, had been a disaster.

Her pouch had been an unsightly mess, too small to fit even a single finger, let alone serve any practical use.

“I haven’t sewn in a while,” she had said sheepishly on one of those earlier days.

It had been a rough start.

Now, Finn approached him, giving his shoulder a light tap.

“Time to go.”

Breakfast and preparations complete, they set off once more toward the burrow.

*“Seventy-ninth.”*

Encrid silently recited the number of times he had repeated this day, walking briskly along the path he now knew so well.

Finn occasionally glanced back at him, tilting her head in curiosity before asking, “Did you work in reconnaissance for a long time?”

“Me?”

“No,” Torres cut in, then redirected her gaze to Encrid.

“No,” Encrid replied while walking.

“Really?”

Torres didn’t understand why Finn was asking, but Encrid knew exactly what she was noticing.

She would soon follow up with the answer he already expected:

“You walk like a ranger.”

That was it.

By trailing Finn day after day, Encrid had learned her gait—the silent steps of a ranger, aided by the fabric-lined boots.

As they moved along the dirt path, scattered with grass and shrubs, Encrid broke the silence with a question.

“What do we do if the enemy is waiting for us at the burrow?”

It was abrupt but valid.

“We fight,” Torres replied, idly kicking a pebble forward.

The stone struck a flat, ochre rock, ricocheting off with a *thunk.*

Encrid watched it closely, listening intently.

“Unlikely, but if they’re there, we run,” Finn added.

“I see,” Encrid replied nonchalantly.

When they reached the shrub-covered slope, he asked another question.

“What if our retreat is cut off?”

Torres, stepping onto the slope, paused and looked at him, perplexed.

Their mission was simple: enter, check on the planted agent, and leave.

Why was he so focused on worst-case scenarios before they had even begun?

“We’re trying to prevent that from happening,” Finn answered, her tone noticeably more serious this time.

“How tall or wide is the burrow?” Encrid continued.

“Uh?”

“If we’re blocked from both sides, are there other exits?”

They had barely taken a few steps when the questions resumed.

“What’s with this guy?” Torres muttered, tilting her head.

He had been quiet until now—why this sudden barrage of questions?

It wasn’t fear.

Someone afraid of the burrow wouldn’t have charged into the middle of a pack of wolf-beasts or taken on harpies with a blade.

“Why? Got a bad feeling?” Torres asked.

Though she didn’t believe in superstition, she respected Encrid’s instincts.

“There are people with a similar knack for instincts in the Border Guards,” Encrid remarked casually.

His tone was calm, but he knew there was no choice but to proceed. Saying that his gut felt off would only derail their plans.

“It’s not that,” Encrid answered evenly when Torres threw him a questioning look.

Finn turned back toward him, her expression sharp. *Is this guy trying to pick a fight with me?* her face seemed to ask.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I was just wondering what we’d do if enemies showed up,” Encrid replied, his voice steady.

Finn tilted her head in confusion, then straightened it again. Something about his words was unsettling, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because he kept throwing out seemingly random objections?

“The burrow’s a main route for smugglers, not a path we or the enemy usually use. That’s why it’s one of the safer options right now,” Finn explained, as much to remind herself of her reasoning as to address Encrid’s question.

Torres nodded in agreement. While not a ranger herself, she had been part of countless missions and had learned to recognize a relatively safe route when she saw one.

*“This should be safe enough.”*

Encrid nodded as well, accepting the explanation. They stepped into the burrow, moving down the slope. After three or four steps inside, Encrid spoke again.

“What if there’s an armed force waiting ahead? Does that mean we’re as good as dead?”

“Damn it,” Finn finally snapped, a curse slipping from her lips.

She could pretend to stay calm, but this was still a path into enemy territory. Why was he bringing up such unnerving possibilities?

“If you don’t want to do this, then step aside,” she barked.

Her anger, barely contained, erupted as she glared at Encrid. He shook his head.

“It’s not that,” he replied calmly.

“Then what’s wrong with him?” Finn muttered, her frustration spilling over to Torres, who shrugged, unsure how to respond.

If Encrid kept pushing these unsettling remarks, it was bound to wear on anyone’s nerves.

“Let’s move,” Encrid said, stepping forward and taking the lead.

Finn, still fuming, looked ready to retort, but then something changed.

Both Finn and Torres felt it—a subtle, heavy presence radiating from Encrid. Unintentionally, their gazes locked onto him.

Why?

Because the weight of his aura had shifted, projecting a commanding intensity that neither of them could ignore.

Both Finn and Torres were highly skilled soldiers, yet they found themselves caught off guard by the sheer gravity of Encrid’s presence.

“Let’s just be careful,” Encrid said in a low, deliberate tone, cutting through the tension.

Finn swallowed hard, her annoyance suddenly evaporating.

*What is with this guy?*

Just moments ago, he had been grating on her nerves, but now… why did he suddenly seem so cool?

Her irritation gave way to an unexpected sense of admiration.

*“Is this love?”*

Finn had always been quick to develop crushes, a fact her entire reconnaissance team acknowledged. Fortunately, her feelings never got in the way of her work.

Love was love, men were men, and work was work.

For now, Finn acknowledged that her guard had lowered slightly.

There was no reason to believe their position was compromised, even if the planted agent had been captured. Entering the city was dangerous, but Finn was confident she could escape if necessary.

They had saved a “route” for emergencies, after all.

“Fine,” Finn said, her tone shifting to a more neutral one as she adjusted her stance and began moving more cautiously.

Torres followed suit. Though she cast Encrid a curious glance, she soon spoke up, “Of course we need to be careful.”

Encrid noticed the change in their attitudes and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He hadn’t thrown out those remarks aimlessly, nor had he projected his aura for nothing.

If they were going to slit the throats of the waiting enemies and survive, they needed to exploit every opening they could.

Conversely, they couldn’t afford to show any openings of their own.

The enemy was made up of heavily armed elite troops equipped with shields and spears, supported by archers positioned at the rear. Combined, there were over forty of them.

This was no situation for mistakes.

That’s why he had done it.

And it worked.

The caution of an average soldier was one thing; the caution of a ranger was another entirely.

“Strange,” Finn muttered as they walked, their path illuminated by torches.

Finn, with her ranger skills honed to a level that could embarrass even seasoned hunters and pathfinders, had detected something unusual.

“There’s something odd about these footprints,” she remarked.

Exactly what Encrid had been setting her up to notice.

The enemy had erased their tracks, but it was impossible to completely avoid the scrutiny of a ranger who was actively suspicious.

From the start, Encrid had not planned for a direct confrontation.

How many repetitions of today had it taken to reach this point?

Through those countless days, he had learned one vital lesson: a head-on approach wasn’t always necessary.

“The rear feels exposed,” Finn commented, voicing the unease Encrid had anticipated.

Seizing the moment, Encrid delivered his rehearsed response.

“Then let’s secure our retreat first.”

In essence, he was suggesting they circle back to “clear the way”—though what he really meant was to take out the archers stationed at the rear. Naturally, Finn and Torres wouldn’t know his true intentions yet.

Both of them turned their gazes toward Encrid.

“What if someone’s already blocking the retreat?”

There was no need to finish the sentence.

“Understood. Let’s go,” Finn said, nodding.

“What rotten luck,” Torres muttered as she and Finn pivoted and started moving in the direction Encrid had suggested. Chapter 103: Is This Love?