Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 12: Two Days
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Frog replayed the scene in his mind.
‘I thought he would win.’
He had taught the soldier himself and he had decent talent.
His personality was quite unappealing, but that wasn’t his concern.
The soldier had focused on thrusting techniques.
He had considerable talent.
He wasn’t someone who would die in such a trivial battlefield.
If left alone, he would have at least reached the level of a company commander.
Frog pondered why the soldier had died.
‘Lack of experience?’
No, he had trained many soldiers like this before.
He wasn’t someone who would die so easily.
‘Bad opponent?’
So, he had bad luck. The goddess of fortune had turned her back on him.
Frog chuckled with a gurgling sound.
‘Luck is also a skill.’
As he entered the allied camp, his lieutenant approached.
“We’ve been looking for you, General.”
“Oh, really?”
“Were you in the enemy’s territory?”
“I just went out for a bit of fun.”
“You seem to be in a good mood.”
“I saw someone die from a stab to ‘there’.”
The heart was a taboo word for Frog.
Even seeing someone get stabbed in the heart made him sick.
But here he was, talking about it and laughing.
The lieutenant should have suspected that something was wrong with the general’s head.
But he didn’t.
The experienced Frog could sometimes utter the word heart.
And the Frog general before him was a seasoned soldier.
If he wanted to, he could say the word heart out loud.
So, he could laugh after seeing someone die from a heart stab if something more interesting was involved.
“You must have seen something amusing.”
“Just someone unusually interesting.”
It wasn’t an ally. If it had been, he would have brought him along.
Frog spoke nonchalantly as he walked.
Frog’s foot leather was thick. He didn’t need boots.
In fact, some Frogs even embedded nails in their feet to avoid slipping.
However, the Frog general disliked those who did that.
With excellent senses and proper training, slippery soles could be a weapon too.
‘He mimicked the thrust perfectly.’
It wasn’t a matter of talent. Frog’s eyes could gauge the level of skill an opponent had mastered.
The Frog general had seen the enemy soldier’s thrust. That’s how he knew.
‘A technique tempered countless times.’
It was more learned through risking his life than taught.
Not a matter of talent but relentless effort.
‘His talent was lacking.’
If luck had aligned dozens or hundreds of times, it wasn’t impossible.
Seeing countless thrusts up close and surviving could allow such movements.
Everything else was a mess, but his thrust was decent.
But does that make sense?
‘With that level of skill?’
Surviving on the battlefield repeatedly?
Learning by risking his life meant he had narrowly survived countless encounters with stronger opponents.
Does this make sense?
No.
That’s why it was intriguing.
‘I’d like to see him again.’
The Frog general didn’t think that would happen.
The goddess of fortune is unfair. She is a favoritist.
Sometimes she bestows all her luck on someone.
But luck has its limits.
‘He must have used up a lifetime’s worth of luck.’
There would be no next time.
That didn’t mean he would die today.
He had managed to block the kick he had delivered.
And seeing the two who came to his rescue at the end, he likely wouldn’t die in this battle.
Still, it wouldn’t last long.
If he continued recklessly challenging stronger opponents, he would improve with meager talent.
But he would need hundreds of lives.
“General.”
“Let’s eat.”
Frog ended his thoughts about that and shifted focus.
It was time to eat.
And time to devise strategies.
The blonde lieutenant nodded at the general’s words.
“Let’s go. I’ll prepare the meal.”
* * *
He saw the ferryman.
Encrid realized he was sitting on a small boat.
‘A dream?’
It felt like he had experienced this before.
A rather old memory. When was it?
‘When I first woke up again.’
A ferryman without a mouth.
A voice filled with curiosity.
Awakening an old memory.
‘Back then.’
He thought it was just a random dream. What importance did a ferryman in a dream hold?
“You’ve survived another day?”
The ferryman spoke.
As before, Encrid couldn’t say a word.
It seemed all he could do here was listen.
“Even with eyes, you cannot see, even with a mouth, you cannot speak, and even with ears, you cannot hear properly.”
The ferryman spoke like he was singing. His words were mixed with rhythm and melody.
Encrid couldn’t even blink.
He couldn’t move any part of his body at will.
It was stifling and frustrating.
‘What can I do now?’
In a dream, shouldn’t you be able to cast spells from your hands?
It was a dream, yet not a dream.
Realizing this, Encrid understood that all he could do was listen.
“Can you keep enduring? Can you keep going? Obstacles will continue to stand in your way.”
He didn’t understand what the ferryman was saying.
Didn’t he just say that even with ears, you can’t hear properly?
“You cannot even hear my name.”
Encrid looked at the ferryman. A vague figure appeared above the black veil.
Like dew drops forming in the morning mist.
That’s how vague it was.
Everything was black. At first, he thought only the mouth was missing, but nothing was there.
“All you can hear now is my whim and goodwill.”
The ferryman chuckled. He didn’t see him laugh; it felt like he was being told that he was laughing.
‘So what?’
“Child, nothing has ended yet, and you cannot escape. The ‘wall’ that stands before you will remain. It will become your destiny.”
The word wall sounded odd.
It felt like he had said something else, but it sounded like wall.
What was this about?
“Can you survive?”
He didn’t understand the gibberish, but.
“Of course.”
Huh? He spoke?
No need to question it.
The ferryman seemed more surprised.
“You…”
The ferryman whispered something, but Encrid’s mind became hazy.
Splash.
The boat disappeared. Encrid sank into deep water.
Beyond the water, through the dew, a black mass conveyed its will.
“This will not remain in your memory. But.”
He chuckled.
“You are truly amusing.”
And that was the end.
Sinking into the deep water, Encrid lost consciousness, plunging into a deep abyss.
* * *
“…Who is the hero of this battlefield?”
“Cypress!”
“Who is the master of this battlefield?”
“Cypress!”
“Who charges towards tomorrow?”
“Cypress!”
“Who delivers the verdict?”
It was a song. A cheerful melody, a deep voice, a perfect rhythm.
‘A marching song?’
No, it wasn’t a marching song.
After joining this unit, he had learned a few marching songs, but none like this.
The songs he learned here were more like rhythmic shouts.
We will win!
With the blessing of the undefeated sun!
With the power of the chief god!
Something like that. No melody, just shouts.
But now there was melody and rhythm.
It was a familiar song.
‘A bard’s song.’
Not all bards are the same.
Some join armies to boost morale by singing on the battlefield.
This was likely one of those cases.
What bard would want to compose and sing a song praising Cypress?
Moreover, that person had probably never seen the knight Cypress.
“You’re awake?”
He turned his head at the voice and saw Rem.
His side throbbed intensely.
When he raised his hand to touch it, Rem grabbed his hand.
“You’re lucky it didn’t break completely. Your head got quite a shake, though. How many fingers?”
Rem waved a few fingers in front of him.
“Go to hell.”
Encrid tried to grasp the situation.
‘Today’ had ended.
Just realizing that made him feel overwhelmed.
He couldn’t play along with Rem’s jokes.
“See, he’s out of it. I’m Rem, your eternal buddy.”
“Crazy bastard.”
“Forgot me? That’s too harsh.”
Encrid closed his eyes for a moment and opened them.
He had survived the day.
That meant a day had passed.
His mind was scattered. The dream had been too chaotic.
‘Didn’t he say I wouldn’t remember?’
Yet, it was all vividly clear.
Black water, a small boat, the ferryman without eyes, nose, or mouth.
He remembered everything he said.
It felt a bit hazy, like a distant memory.
But he had always had a good memory since he was a child.
Encrid remembered everything.
“I didn’t forget. The noble hunter.”
He mentioned Rem’s old nickname.
“Shh, I told you that was a secret.”
Finally, Rem’s banter stopped, and he glared. Why bring that up?
Encrid collected himself.
First.
“What happened to me?”
He finally heard the full story.
The dead soldier, his drastically improved skills, and the Frog.
‘A Frog got involved?’
He had been a mercenary for years, but this was his first time seeing a Frog.
Of course, it was also his first time being hit by one.
It was a miracle his ribs weren’t all broken.
Facing a Frog as an enemy on the battlefield?
“Run.”
“Hide.”
“Die.”
Three seasoned mercenaries each gave different answers.
But the conclusion was the same.
If you couldn’t run or hide, you’d die.
That’s how dangerous and terrifying Frogs were.
All fighting races were like that.
Giants, dragonkin, elves.
All were superior to humans.
But most of those who rose to knighthood were humans.
That’s why humans had the largest presence on this continent.
“After that, I carried you out of the battlefield myself. It was quite a rough journey.I almost died.”
If it had been truly dangerous, he wouldn’t be speaking like this.
“I owe you.”
“Then you could do the dishes ten times as repayment.”
This guy, really.
Encrid sighed inwardly and nodded.
When the conversation ended, Rem didn’t get up easily.
He wore his usual smile.
“Did you practice alone? When I wasn’t watching?”
What was he talking about now?
“Your heart was maturing.”
Huh?
“I taught you that, but you thought I wouldn’t notice?”
‘Ah!’
Encrid realized that Rem had been watching him.
Since he had been watching, he could help at the right moment.
“I somehow figured it out after narrowly escaping death a few times.”
He had thought of dozens of plausible excuses.
This was the most believable one.
It was also true, albeit slightly understated.
He couldn’t say he actually died a few times narrowly escaping death.
“Well done.”
Only then did Rem get up.
“Rest well. You need to recover before anything else.”
Encrid finally looked around. He was in the medical tent.
The place where the wounded gathered.
Should he try to get up?
As he tried to rise, a soldier sitting nearby spoke with blurry eyes.
“You shouldn’t move yet. It’ll get worse if you strain yourself. Your head was badly shaken.”
It seemed a medic had visited him.
Usually, if a common soldier was injured, they’d be lucky if a comrade knew some herbs.
Otherwise, they often just died.
‘Managed to reach the medical tent somehow.’
How he got here didn’t matter much.
He could find out later.
What mattered more was.
‘I survived today.’
A new day had begun.
Looking towards the entrance of the tent, light seeped through the gap.
It wasn’t sunlight.
It was the flickering light of torches, casting shadows.
The bard’s song continued.
“Who is the hero?”
“Cypress!”
The soldiers shouted in chorus.
He had survived today and lived to see the next.
But it seemed he had spent the whole day unconscious and woke up in the evening.
“Did I survive the day?”
He asked the medic.
“Day? It’s the second day.”
The shock had been significant.
Encrid thought as he closed his eyes.
Anyway, surviving today was what mattered.
He had defeated the thrusting soldier.
He had surpassed him with skill.
Afterward, Encrid thought about the ferryman.
He recalled and pondered his words.
He had no choice.
The ferryman had said it would repeat.
So.
‘If I die, today will repeat.’
The ferryman spoke as if to punish him.
But.
‘Why is that a punishment?’
To Encrid, it wasn’t a punishment, but a reward.
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