Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 112: Immediate Deployment

For just a moment, it became clear.

He saw the way to capture Frok, to kill him, to win.

The signpost appeared, and the path ahead revealed itself.

Would today be yet another satisfying day?

Encrid had rested fully to ensure he was in perfect condition to face the repetitive “today” once more.

If he died now, he would simply start over.

But Frok’s blade didn’t descend.

The killing intent and aura were still there, yet the blade remained suspended in mid-air, as if frozen by an unseen force.

Frok’s cheeks puffed and deflated repeatedly.

“Why?”

From Encrid’s perspective, it was unclear, but Frok’s gaze wasn’t on him. Instead, it was fixed behind Encrid, at the figure of the blue-eyed leopard.

The Lake Panther.

In some regions, these creatures were considered sacred, revered even as guardian spirits.

Frok, however, wasn’t the type to be swayed by such beliefs.

To him, a beast was just a beast.

In other words, the mere sight of the Lake Panther glaring at him wasn’t what stopped him.

“Damn it,” Frok muttered inwardly. His slippery skin secreted a mucus-like substance instead of sweat—a reaction triggered by his rising tension.

Frok, with a white scar across his neck, was a seasoned warrior. Among his experiences were encounters with mages.

Mages, those bizarre beings who could manifest the world of spells into reality.

They were always troublesome to deal with.

The black fur and eyes of the Lake Panther exuded a faint magical aura.

Frok’s experience and his innate talent for assessing potential allowed him to discern traces of mana emanating from the panther.

The creature itself was tied to the world of magic, or at least to something related to it.

Frok realized that if he struck down the man in front of him now…

He would also be wagering his life.

The magical panther wasn’t the only problem.

The human before him wasn’t ordinary either.

This man had persistently targeted Frok’s heart, only to strike his arm at the last moment.

That final move—

The sword, the intent, the aura, all following the wide blade of Frok’s weapon.

It wasn’t a simple maneuver. The human had shifted his weight with his feet and displayed strength momentarily comparable to Frok’s.

Though smaller in stature, this man had exceptional muscle density.

And then there were those eyes.

“His eyes,” Frok thought bitterly.

They still burned with unyielding resolve. Even now, they held no hint of despair, only fighting spirit directed squarely at Frok.

How could someone with no chance of winning look at him like that?

It was as if this human had been forged from sheer willpower—something that refused to break no matter what.

He didn’t appear to rely on the magic-wielding panther behind him.

His focus was solely on the battle.

“This crazy bastard.”

Frok’s cheeks swelled even more, a physical manifestation of his dissatisfaction with the situation.

He weighed his options.

Was this human worth risking his life to kill?

Or should he leave and wait for another opportunity?

He wanted to kill him. This human deserved to die.

But if his own life was at stake?

He had to reconsider.

Frok’s keen eyes scrutinized Encrid.

Frok’s usual philosophy was to fight when he wanted, eat when he wanted, and love when he wanted.

But now his life was on the line, and he was bound by other obligations.

Was it worth disregarding all that to kill this man?

The scales tipped.

The answer became clear.

This border fortress city of Border Guard wasn’t significant enough to risk everything for.

Frok’s puffed cheeks deflated.

The blade poised to strike lowered.

His killing intent faded.

“A limit,” Frok concluded.

He judged that the human before him couldn’t grow much stronger than he was now.

Though Encrid’s muscle quality and momentary bursts of strength were remarkable, and his swordsmanship and tactics extraordinary, he still seemed like a creature from another world.

But even so—

Frok knew instinctively.

“It was half luck.”

Though Frok’s arm had been cut, he had crushed the human’s right wrist in return.

The human’s maneuver relied on luck. If they met again, Frok would kill him.

“I am Maelrun. Remember that, human,” Frok said.

And with that, it ended.

The killing aura vanished as Maelrun stepped back.

His gaze met the magical blue eyes of Esther behind Encrid.

The look in Maelrun’s eyes seemed to say, “I’ll leave now, so you back off too.”

Esther didn’t respond, only stared at him with her lake-like eyes.

Maelrun retrieved his cloak from the floor and retreated from the mansion.

Frok departed without anyone stopping him.

Some guild members hesitated, watching him leave.

“Stop gawking and clear the way. Let our guest leave,” Krys commanded, ensuring no one interfered.

Even with an injured arm, Frok was still Frok.

And just like that, he was gone.

* * *

Thanks to the magic tome Encrid had brought, Esther discovered a trick to free herself from her binding shackles.

Though she couldn’t return to human form immediately, she could partially manifest elements of the magical world even in her panther body.

“Of course, it’ll be a struggle each time,” she thought.

It required her to deplete stored mana and risk corrupting portions of the magical world she drew from.

The method came from the tome of a necromancer who had built his magical world using corpses—a twisted but effective workaround.

Still…

“I’ll use it someday,” she decided.

It was worth learning, even if only as a contingency.

And that moment had come.

Feigning calmness, Esther projected her presence, ensuring that Frok recognized her as a mage.

If you strike here, I will also pierce your heart.

That was the essence of her intent. Willpower could sometimes become mana.

For an instant, Esther had appeared not as a panther but as the mage she truly was.

And the result?

Maelrun—or whatever his name was—retreated.

If she had been in her original form, things might have turned out differently.

In her current state, even with Encrid’s help, their chances of victory would have been only fifty-fifty.

The conclusion was clear after careful consideration.

Why did their opponent back off?

“Luck.”

That was the only reasonable explanation.

Encrid’s improved skills? They were surprising, even astonishing to Esther.

But not enough to explain why Frok had retreated.

Of course, before calling it luck, the situation had shifted in unexpected ways.

And those shifts were thanks to the man who had stayed by her side.

“His left arm.”

Not the heart, but the arm.

Had Encrid continued targeting the heart, the enemy might have persisted.

But severing the arm halfway had tipped the balance.

It might be faster for Frok to regrow a new arm than to reattach the one he’d lost.

A one-armed swordsman.

It was a manageable opponent now.

“Damn it.”

How had things ended up like this?

Esther sighed, lightly tapping the back of the man who had nearly wasted all the mana she’d painstakingly accumulated.

Why wasn’t he getting up?

“Esth— Ugh!”

Encrid, who had barely managed to hold himself together, began retching.

Esther leapt back to avoid him.

Krys approached next.

“You okay? Wait, did you—did you find Ragna? You understood what I said, right?”

“Hah.”

After emptying his stomach, Encrid managed to raise his upper body and reply.

“You’ve been holed up here for six days without going to the frontlines and didn’t even realize the squad was gone? Aren’t you supposed to be the guy in charge of handling information?”

His tone wasn’t scolding, just matter-of-fact.

“Uh?”

Only then did Krys realize his oversight.

Thinking about it now, the squad members were familiar faces he always expected to see upon returning.

He had heard deployment rumors, but who would have taken the squad out without Encrid?

No sane commander would risk their life leading a squad like that: a commanding officer slayer, a chronic slacker who disappeared without notice, a religious fanatic who wouldn’t fight without divine permission, and other misfits.

Naturally, Krys had assumed they’d stayed behind, waiting for their squad leader.

It was a mistake.

“They’re gone. All deployed.”

“Didn’t see that coming. So it’s just you and Esther now?”

“Yes.”

Krys slid an arm under Encrid’s to help him stand.

“You hurt bad?”

“Other than my right hand, it’s manageable.”

As he answered, Encrid realized he was in better shape than expected.

Then a question arose.

“Why did he just leave?”

Frok could have killed both him and Krys with a single slash.

“Why?”

His gaze shifted to Esther, the panther.

“What did you do? Really? Against someone like Frok?”

The weight of that name settled heavily on Encrid. What could a small, young panther possibly have done?

He didn’t know. He had no idea.

“Mrow.”

Sensing his gaze, Esther let out a chastising sound as if to say, “How could you collapse from just that?”

Taking a deep breath, Encrid tried to organize his thoughts.

“I don’t know.”

Would pondering the unknown yield an answer?

No.

Experience had taught him that some things remain mysteries. Instead, Encrid chose to be satisfied with the experience he’d gained and the momentum it gave him for tomorrow.

“It worked.”

What else could he say?

For a moment, he had felt as though he’d overwhelmed Frok.

He had lured Frok into his plans and struck him.

He had severed an arm—not the heart, but the arm. It would regenerate, eventually.

But not while fighting him.

If Frok had dodged that last strike to his wrist…

“If he had.”

The fight’s outcome would have been different. There was much to learn from this encounter.

Encrid reflected as he began walking back to the barracks.

Krys supported him, while Esther, instead of leaping into his arms, glanced behind before trotting at his side.

When they arrived at the barracks and were about to settle down to rest—

“Where have you been!”

It was the commander of the Second Company, Benzense’s superior officer.

Sweat glistened on the commander’s forehead as if he’d been searching for Encrid frantically. What kind of commander ran around personally instead of sending a messenger?

As Encrid considered this and prepared to salute—

“Immediate deployment!”

The commander interrupted him.

“I’ve been injured, sir.”

If possible, Encrid would have liked another day or two to recover. After all, his absence wouldn’t drastically impact the battlefield.

He was just a recently returned platoon leader, and a little leniency might not have been too much to ask.

“What? How did that happen?”

The commander already knew he’d returned unscathed from the mission.

“I got into a fight with a thug.”

“What were you thinking, causing trouble at a time like this?”

The commander scolded him, but then shook his head, resigned.

“Still, we don’t need your swordsmanship for this. If you can move, I’m requesting you to depart immediately.”

It wasn’t an order but more of a plea.

To Encrid, it sounded like trouble had erupted on the frontlines.

“Why?”

Encrid hadn’t yet received any updates on the battlefield situation.

After returning, he’d spent one full day resting and another dueling Frok.

“Ranger Finn will accompany you. Can you leave right away?”

“What’s so urgent?” Krys interjected, voicing the question Encrid hadn’t asked yet. Familiar with the commander, Krys prompted a response.

“It’s… without their platoon leader, they refuse to fight anymore.”

The commander trailed off, but Encrid quickly grasped the meaning.

“My squad members?”

“It’s essentially a deployment to persuade them. You don’t even need to fight—just stay in the field and let them see you. It’s a request from your direct company commander.”

It seemed like he had no choice. Resting his wrist wasn’t an option.

He could still hold a sword, albeit clumsily.

“Rem.”

Hearing this, Encrid immediately began to worry.

He figured he could learn about the battlefield situation on the way.

With a few quick bandages and some medicine for his cuts, he’d be ready to go.

“Understood.”

Encrid saluted, signaling his agreement to leave at once.