Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 109: A Habit of Setting Things Ablaze

As Letsha’s gaze locked on him, Encrid stared back into the mage’s eyes.

‘Mages have eyes too.’

They also have noses and mouths.

In the end, they’re human.

“Every human has reflexive behaviors,” Jaxson’s teachings came to mind.

Encrid had prepared accordingly.

All he needed was a brief moment to halt the onslaught of thorned vines.

For that, he had a hidden trump card.

It was something he had practiced several times in previous iterations of today.

The key was timing.

And that moment had come.

As Encrid deflected and dodged the relentless vines with his left hand holding the sword, one of the tendrils struck hard against his left wrist.

The surface of his leather gauntlet, scavenged from a sewer corpse enthusiast, shredded apart.

At that exact moment, Encrid raised his right hand high.

Letsha’s eyebrows twitched at the gesture.

She had seen him throw projectiles multiple times before—her reaction was instinctual.

But Letsha didn’t worry. Whatever he threw would be harmless, blocked by the magical barrier surrounding her.

Confident, she watched as the expected dagger turned out to be something else—a thin, crystalline orb.

*Flash!*

A sudden burst of blinding light.

It wasn’t just the brightness of a torch—it was something far more intense.

Reflexively, everyone’s eyes turned toward the object Encrid had thrown, including Letsha’s. For a brief moment, their vision was overwhelmed.

That short moment was enough.

‘Tch.’

Encrid inhaled sharply and moved.

Having focused entirely on the ground, he had been waiting for this chance.

The glowing stone he had scavenged from the sewer—he had spent considerable effort figuring out how to activate it.

Though he hadn’t expected to use it this way, it was hidden up his sleeve and thrown using the Hidden Knife Technique.

By showing his empty hand first, he had lured Letsha into complacency—and it worked perfectly.

All these elements combined to create a sliver of opportunity.

And for Encrid, a sliver was all he needed.

*Thud.*

It was a charge, one he had once observed from a squire during training.

Encrid crouched low, dashed forward, and gripped his sword with both hands, raising it high.

Shifting his weight forward from his back foot, he executed a powerful vertical slash.

Letsha’s vision began to recover just in time to see it coming.

“Aaah!” she screamed.

It was both her death cry and her final words.

*Shing. Crack.*

The magical barrier shattered under the force of Encrid’s heavy-sword style downward strike, bolstered by every ounce of strength he could muster.

The blade didn’t stop there.

It tore through Letsha’s scalp, sliced her ear, split her collarbone, and continued downward.

*Splurch.*

The sword exited near her waist, taking a third of her upper body and some internal organs with it.

A severed arm, along with chunks of flesh, fell to the ground with a *thud.*

Blood and viscera poured from her mangled form as she stood, an empty shell.

Even in death, her eyes glimmered faintly, as if desperately trying to perform one last spell.

But the vines behind Encrid lost their strength and collapsed.

‘Hoo.’

Encrid exhaled the breath he had been holding.

He had known from experience that Letsha’s barrier would break if hit with sufficient force.

Daggers and small attacks wouldn’t do it, but a full-force strike could shatter it.

Today’s battle had been the culmination of all the lessons learned from repeated iterations.

Even the use of the glowing stone as a Hidden Knife Technique was a culmination of his practice.

“Are you two going to finish the rest or not?” Encrid asked, snatching the glowing stone out of the air.

The light it emitted would quickly alert the city to the commotion on the wall. Time was running out.

*Whoosh.*

Finn moved first, with Torres following close behind.

There weren’t many soldiers left.

*Screams echoed across the wall.*

Under the moonlight, Encrid stood illuminated.

Even Torres, Finn, and the remaining soldiers couldn’t help but notice how the moonlight framed him, casting a halo-like glow.

He looked different, almost otherworldly—something more than human.

The air on the wall was filled with the mingling scents of blood and roses—a strange and oddly pleasant aroma, like an exotic perfume.

—

Once they descended from the wall, it became Finn’s domain.

She had prepared for this moment. Sticking close to the inner side of the wall, she dug into the ground and pulled out a bundle.

“Emergency supplies.”

Most likely, the spy known as “the Cat” had prepared it.

Inside the bundle was a filthy tarp.

Without hesitation, she threw it over Encrid and Torres.

As they crouched under the cover near the outskirts of a slum, Finn approached two vagrants and silently snapped their necks.

*Crack.* No sound, just clean, efficient movements.

Truly, Finn’s mastery of the Aile Carraz Style had reached its peak. She moved like a seasoned expert, a testament to the countless iterations Encrid had observed.

The slum dwellers nearby showed no interest in their surroundings. No witnesses remained.

Wrapped in darkness and the filthy tarp, the three of them disappeared into the shadows.

As they moved, Encrid’s thoughts drifted.

He reflected, as always. Reviewing everything step by step.

During the repetitions of today, three paths had always been before him.

Did he have to choose just one?

‘Why choose one when I can use all three?’

Relaxing his shoulders, he saw the possibilities.

The three paths weren’t exclusive—he could use all of them.

The tunnel, where the Gray Wolves lay in ambush, taught him how to handle elite units.

The Lycan horde forced him to master survival and evasion in chaotic melee battles.

And Letsha, with her thorned vines, was an unparalleled teacher of precision and timing.

Encrid saw the Gray Wolves, the Lycans, and Letsha as tools. All of them were training dummies, helping him forge himself into something greater.

That was how he had shaped this iteration of today.

‘Not bad at all.’

His left wrist throbbed slightly from the earlier strike against his gauntlet, but it wasn’t broken.

The leather armor had absorbed most of the damage he couldn’t avoid. No critical injuries.

“Quiet. Lower your heads,” Finn whispered.

Encrid obeyed, pretending to sleep under the tarp.

The crude disguise, combined with some concealed gear, was complete.

“This smell is awful,” one patrolling soldier muttered.

“Deal with it. Didn’t you hear about the chaos on the wall? They could be hiding here.”

“Then let’s burn it all down.”

“Shh. What if they all come at us?”

As the patrol moved on, Encrid narrowed his eyes and followed Finn’s lead.

She moved with familiarity, guiding them confidently through the slums.

As they walked, Encrid caught glimpses of the city—a tall bell tower in the distance, dimly lit streets, and dark alleyways.

Finn sidled up to Torres and asked, “Is everyone in the Border Guard like this?”

“What?”

“Do they all fight like *him*?” She gestured back at Encrid with her thumb.

Torres paused, thinking.

A swordsman like Encrid? Someone who deflected a mage’s thorned vines with a sword instead of a shield, created openings, and struck with precision? Someone who adapted the Hidden Knife Technique in such innovative ways? Someone who survived between Lycans and elite soldiers, dodging and fighting on the brink of death?

Torres considered the most skilled soldiers he knew in the Border Guard.

Eisen? Barney? Hyouun?

‘No chance.’

Purely in terms of skill, Encrid had crossed some unseen boundary.

“Think there’s anyone else like him?” Torres finally replied.

“What?” Finn asked again.

“Think there are monsters like him everywhere?”

It was a strange feeling.

Not long ago, Encrid had been beneath him—a subordinate.

During their sparring sessions on the way here, they had been peers.

But now? He had changed. His mastery and his swordsmanship had transformed.

‘Hah.’

Finn exhaled a mix of awe and resignation.

The soldier named Encrid had done the unthinkable.

‘Is this guy just a platoon leader? Only a platoon leader?’

Finn couldn’t help but think this as they crept through the shadows, avoiding patrols under the moonlight. She wondered what would happen if she reported all this back.

While scanning the surroundings for hidden messages left by the Cat, she still found herself grappling with disbelief at what Encrid had done.

The wall they had scaled and left in chaos gradually quieted down, the commotion fading far too quickly.

Encrid, however, felt an ominous sense of foreboding.

Defeating the mage seemed to have sharpened his instincts, though he knew better than to trust them too much. Overconfidence had led him to disaster before.

Having utilized all three approaches to breach the wall, he wanted to make it through the night and see another day. There was no room for complacency, and his senses were on high alert, ready to react to any sign of trouble.

Finn, however, searched fruitlessly until dawn.

Despite their fatigue, nothing happened. The city seemed almost determined to hush up the chaos from the wall. Instead of rippling through the streets, it was met with eerie silence.

From their hiding place in an alley, they overheard two patrolling soldiers talking.

“Was there trouble last night? Someone said the wall was breached.”

“Shh! We’ve been ordered to keep quiet about it. You don’t want to lose a month’s pay for gossiping.”

As the patrol moved on, Finn muttered, “This isn’t good.”

“Why not?” Torres asked.

“The Cat’s dead,” she replied.

“So, this was all a wild goose chase?” Torres pressed, his irritation evident.

“No,” Finn shook her head. “There’s still something—there’s a message.”

“What kind of message?”

Finn groaned as she crouched in the shadows of the alley. “The Cat buried it in a spot near the main gate.”

“Why the main gate?” Torres asked, annoyed.

“Probably the last place they could reach in case of failure. If they were caught escaping, they’d try there as a last resort.”

It was a troublesome situation.

Torres nudged Encrid. “Got any bright ideas?”

“We get the item from the gate and leave. Simple as that.”

“It won’t be simple.”

‘This is a dilemma?’ Encrid thought, glancing at the two of them. ‘Their minds are locked up.’

It was understandable. The night’s events had been overwhelming, and both were likely still reeling from the display of Encrid’s swordsmanship and audacity.

His decisive and unconventional actions had stunned them both.

“Let’s set a fire,” Encrid said.

“…What?”

“We’ll use the night as cover, start a fire, and slip away. Grab the item on the way. From what I overheard, they’re waiting for whoever caused trouble at the wall to make their next move. So let’s give them what they’re waiting for.”

Finn’s eyes lit up—it was a brilliant plan. And with it came the realization: ‘I should have thought of that first.’

She acknowledged her own sluggish thinking, but that was fine. She was an excellent ranger, and a good ranger knew when to embrace chaos.

From the enemy’s perspective, of course.

That night, the three remained hidden until they reached a hay-filled inn. They split up and set six simultaneous fires across the area.

*Whoosh.*

The flames roared to life.

Finn, in high spirits, moved quickly, her hands deft and her voice loud as she shouted warnings about the fire, spreading panic among the townsfolk. Her actions sowed confusion, masking their movements.

As Encrid darted through the shadows, his mind wandered.

‘Why do I keep setting things on fire?’

It felt like he was becoming more of an arsonist than a knight. Worse, it seemed like he was getting used to it—developing a habit.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it, though. Encrid grabbed a torch, hurled it onto a hay pile, and added a stolen bottle of oil from the inn.

*Whoosh.*

The blaze spread beautifully.

He was no amateur arsonist anymore—he was becoming an expert. And the results were undeniable.

“Fire! FIRE!”

Though the overcast sky hinted at spring rain, it didn’t come tonight. The hay and wooden buildings burned fiercely, and when Encrid toppled a few torch stands, the flames climbed even higher.

With all eyes drawn to the inferno, Finn, Torres, and Encrid slipped away unnoticed.

Just before the city gates closed, Finn dug up the buried message.

“We can leave now,” Torres said.

Finn and Encrid nodded in agreement. It was time to return.

—

As they walked back toward the Border Guard, Torres finally asked the question he’d been holding back.

“How did you know the mage’s name?”

Encrid replied with the excuse he had prepared in advance.

“Luck. During my mercenary days, I heard about a mage by that name who killed a lot of my comrades. It just came to mind.”

Torres frowned, skeptical. ‘Does he expect us to believe that?’

The explanation didn’t make sense, which paradoxically made it seem plausible. Torres decided to drop it.

‘Who cares?’

It was over, and that was all that mattered. It was the mindset of a good soldier.

—

In the office of the Cross Guard, Abnair couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

“Ha.”

‘They got through? In one night?’

They had captured a spy, extracted information, and laid a trap. They even leaked false information, hoping to lure anyone who dared to infiltrate.

But never had they expected someone to actually infiltrate the Cross Guard.

And yet—

‘The elite unit at the tunnel was almost wiped out.’

Letsha was dead.

She wasn’t supposed to die here. Letsha of the Thorned Vines was a renowned mage.

“If it were a knight, at least that would make sense.”

But it wasn’t a knight.

They had tried to capture whoever was responsible, even using his personal unit. They waited, prepared for any possibility, including assassination attempts.

And then there was a fire.

No assassins. No lingering traces of the infiltrators.

Just fire.

‘They set a fire and left?’

Abnair kept laughing, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Known as the brilliant strategist of Azpen, he had been completely outmaneuvered.

How could he not laugh?

—

‘Achoo!’

As they returned to the Border Guard, Finn sneezed when Encrid suggested sparring again.

Finn was certain Encrid was insane, and Torres politely declined.

“Aren’t you tired? I’m exhausted.”

When they arrived at the Border Guard outpost, Encrid witnessed an odd sight.

A bald man in shabby, almost beggar-like clothing was pleading with a soldier.

It was such a bizarre scene that Encrid couldn’t help but tilt his head in bewilderment.