Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 129: Heart of Monstrous Strength

Among the soldiers at the front line was Vel.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Vel was out of luck. It might have been better to die in the first blow.

A giant?

There was no option to retreat against something like that.

Shouldn’t the 1st Company handle this? Or perhaps the Border Guards?

The Turtle Heavy Infantry was positioned on their left flank, and the Border Guards were nowhere to be seen, as if they had all gone off to a drinking binge.

Vel felt sweat dripping down his back. His hands trembled with tension, and his legs felt like they would give out.

And yet, the giant had done nothing but grin.

No, the first hammer strike had already shown everything it was capable of.

That single blow, the sheer destructive force, and the resulting carnage—anyone unaffected by it would have to be out of their mind.

“Shit.”

Vel felt the cold grip of death.

If that hammer moved, he knew it would soon be his turn to die.

When the frontline broke, he somehow found himself thrust right into the vanguard.

“This is just great,” he muttered.

The squad leader next to him wasn’t looking much better. His trembling pupils said it all—it was a miracle he hadn’t shouted for them to flee.

Not that fleeing was an option. The vanguard commanders at their backs would just cut them down for retreating.

Oddly enough, seeing his terrified squad leader gave Vel a sense of calm.

Hell, maybe I’ll just die.

The moment he stepped onto the battlefield, his life had been mortgaged to heaven.

Perhaps now the creditor had come to collect.

“It’s all the same in the end,” Vel said.

The squad leader looked at him. Vel flashed a resigned smile, the kind that comes when all hope is abandoned.

“At least let me take a toe or two with me.”

The giant’s hide was said to be so tough that no ordinary blade could cut it.

But what if he stuck close and sliced away?

Even dragon bones could be whittled down if sawed persistently enough.

Who knows? Might as well try.

“The flower of the battlefield…”

Vel’s voice rang out—not in despair, but in determination.

He’d already wagered his life. Now he would see to it that it was spent well.

Running from a falling thunderbolt was a fool’s errand.

Vel had learned that from Encrid.

A man who didn’t know the meaning of the word “give up.”

How could he not learn something from being by such a man’s side?

Vel had learned, and he decided to act.

“The infantry,” the squad leader said reflexively, completing Vel’s phrase.

It was time to fight.

In other words, it was time to die—or so it seemed.

At that moment, the giant lifted its hammer, which had been resting on the ground.

‘Drdrdrk!’

Metal scraped against gravel as the massive weapon rose.

As the mist began to clear, the head of the hammer came into view, smeared with bits of flesh and blood, like crushed bread.

It stood out clearly—too clearly. That was death. The creditor come to collect his due.

“Krrhrhrh.”

The giant let out that same guttural, cavernous laughter and raised the hammer. This time, rather than swinging it vertically, it was lifted high before being swung sideways. Perhaps it wanted to kill as many as possible in one blow.

Vel racked his brain, wondering how to evade.

Would ducking low be enough?

Would the hammer swung by that massive figure even reach the ground?

It didn’t seem likely.

The giant bent its knees, bringing the massive hammer head even lower.

With the angle it was swinging, jumping seemed the only way to avoid it.

Or perhaps he needed to get out of its range entirely.

“This is just too much, you bastards,” a soldier behind him whimpered.

“Where’s the retreat signal? Didn’t you hear the whistle?”

It was a rookie, green and untested.

“Shit, fuck, damn it, those bastards!”

Another soldier just kept cursing, over and over.

The giant knew how to fight.

Had it simply attacked outright, it wouldn’t have created this situation.

The brief pause had instilled a deep, pervasive fear in the allied soldiers.

The giant had killed their spirit before killing their bodies.

“Hrraaah!”

Even its battle cry was monstrous.

With that, it unleashed the strike it had been preparing.

‘Huaaang!’

The hammer sliced through the air, its monstrous strength pushing it beyond human limits.

‘Hung!’

Vel, out of options, pressed his body against his shield, ready to leap backward and take the hit.

Maybe, just maybe, he could survive.

Though, of course, he expected to die. Still, he braced himself, hoping to endure.

In that moment, death loomed in every soldier’s eyes.

Vel couldn’t even clearly see the hammer’s movement.

Instead,

‘Huk!’

A shadow darted forward.

“Huh?”

Before he could register what it was,

‘Tzuaaaaaang!’

A thunderous roar struck his ears. The sheer force of the impact sent a shockwave that made him feel as if his body were being pushed back.

Only then did Vel see.

“What the… hell?”

The words slipped out in sheer bewilderment. It was the kind of situation where swearing seemed unavoidable.

“Hey, you big dumb bastard. Play with someone your own size, will you?”

The shadow in front of him spoke. It was an ally.

Standing before the giant, he looked pathetically small, yet he held off the hammer with two axes.

The veins in his forearms bulged as if they might burst. He had ripped the arm sections off his gambeson and was wearing his armor like a vest.

But he had stopped the hammer.

Though his feet slid slightly on the gravel, leaving marks, he had still managed to block it.

What the hell was this? Vel’s mind struggled to process the situation.

Then,

“…We’re alive.”

It was the rookie, crying as he spoke. His tearful voice reached everyone’s ears.

As Vel comprehended the situation, his chest swelled with emotion.

He almost started crying himself.

It wasn’t just the relief of surviving.

It was the sight of the back of the man who had so effortlessly overturned the fear and horror that had gripped both sides.

The giant was a monster, a “Red-Blooded Beast,” a being devoted to slaughter and reveling in carnage.

So what?

Here stood another.

A lunatic. A monster.

Someone who could shatter morale just by stepping into the fray.

“Cat got your tongue? Why so quiet?”

The monster spoke, his tone as crude and insolent as ever.

That day, it sounded like a heavenly orchestra.

“You damned, weakling vermin!” the giant roared in fury, while Rem let out a smirk.

‘What nonsense, idiot.’

—

Rem was in a great mood.

So great, in fact, that it reminded him of his first battle.

And it was all thanks to his sparring session with the platoon leader.

Could just one sparring match really have this much effect?

Probably because so much had been pent up for so long.

The rush of release made him eager for a real fight.

He also wanted to show Encrid.

“Watch closely,” he thought.

“This is what you’ll be learning next.”

Even as a child, Rem had never flinched when axes flew toward him.

Yet he, too, had learned and mastered the ‘Heart of the Beast.’

If it only provided courage and composure, why would anyone bother learning it?

It would be useless otherwise.

Of course, it had value—that’s why he learned, practiced, and mastered it.

The reason? The ‘Heart of the Beast’ didn’t stop at mere courage.

From this point on, the technique was half his own creation—a unique skill outside his tribe’s traditions.

‘Thump.’

His heart began to beat twice as fast as usual, sending blood rushing through his entire body. Blood flow quickened, coursing through him like a flood.

‘Thump, thump, thump, thump!’

His blood vessels expanded, his muscles swelled, and their density shifted.

The ritualistic technique that began in his heart transformed his body into one capable of monstrous strength.

Rem called this technique the ‘Heart of Monstrous Strength.’

While his tribe used this ability primarily to prevent aging, Rem had refined it for combat.

It was a skill only Rem had mastered.

Mistakes in learning it could lead to a ruptured heart, burst blood vessels, or muscle necrosis—a risk that made it nearly impossible for others to replicate.

Although he told Encrid to watch and learn, the choice would ultimately be his.

If Encrid wanted to learn it, Rem would teach him slowly, step by step, ensuring he wouldn’t die in the process.

It would hurt, no doubt, but Encrid was the type to endure pain to master something new.

As Rem blocked the giant’s hammer, he unleashed his monstrous strength, wielding his axes with terrifying power.

‘Whoom!’

The hammer came crashing down at an incredible speed, but Rem deflected it with a swing of his axe.

‘Clang! Rrrrack! Boom!’

The axe blade couldn’t withstand the impact and shattered, exploding into pieces.

Even though he had deflected the blow as much as possible, the result was still this devastating.

Rem swung his left arm outward, scattering the broken axe fragments.

Some shards embedded themselves into the wooden armor worn by the giant.

‘Should’ve used a better weapon, huh?’

If he were a lunatic like those religious fanatics, maybe he’d just use a club instead.

Although Rem wasn’t particular about weapons, axes fit his hands the best.

‘Clink.’

He discarded the broken axe handle and flicked up a spear lying near his foot.

Now holding a spear in his left hand and an axe in his right, Rem grinned—a deeply satisfied grin.

The joy of facing a worthy opponent, the thrill of combat after the sparring session with Encrid, filled him completely.

“Let’s have some fun,” he said.

What followed was a brutal fight—so intense that no one dared approach.

‘Bang! Bang! Crash! Clang, clang, clang!’

Rem picked up discarded weapons from the ground, stabbing with spears and hacking with axes.

When one weapon broke, he grabbed another from the battlefield.

And when those were about to run out—

“Hey, throw me something!”

Vel, quick to pick up on the situation, tossed him a weapon.

Spears, hand axes, anything they could find.

Someone even threw a dagger at the giant, aiming for its eyes, but the creature simply turned its head, letting the blade bounce harmlessly off its forehead.

‘Thunk!’

What kind of skin was that?

The sharp dagger left not even a scratch, spinning away uselessly into the air.

Then what was Rem, who was fighting such a monster, supposed to be?

No one knew.

But one thing was clear—this “monster” was protecting them.

Encrid watched Rem’s battle.

It was ferocious, savage, and most of all…

‘“He’s matching strength with a giant?”’

Did that mean he was stronger than Frok?

Was this what Rem had meant by “Watch closely”?

‘Thump.’

Encrid’s heart raced.

The prospect of learning something new filled him with excitement.

For Encrid, the desire to learn was his deepest longing.

“Time to move. Seems like he’s just playing now,” Ragna said from beside him.

Rem appeared to be enjoying himself. Seeing this made it clear—he could win, he could kill the giant, but he was holding back.

Why?

“To show me?”

The thought crossed Encrid’s mind, but he dismissed it. That would be too far-fetched.

It seemed more likely that Rem was just reveling in the fight.

“Let’s get going,” Ragna urged, his impatience showing.

Why was he so eager to fight today?

For someone who usually had no motivation, it was unusual.

“Alright.”

Spurred on, Encrid finally moved. He felt like he had seen everything Rem wanted to show him.

Ragna was supposed to head to the right flank, but he kept straying in the wrong direction. Encrid had to steer him back on course.

“If we clear this area, it should be manageable,” Krys said, sticking close behind them.

Maybe.

Encrid couldn’t see the bigger picture of the battlefield. All that mattered was the here and now.

As they moved toward the right, they spotted a group of ten enemies gathered with relaxed confidence.

Was this some cruel twist of fate?

As they got closer, Encrid realized that he recognized the man standing at the center.

What was he doing here?

The man seemed to recognize Encrid as well.

Encrid’s face was hard to forget—it was strikingly handsome.

“You… You’re alive?”

The man blinked a few times in surprise before breaking into a smile, his eyes curving as he laughed.

Though his triangle-shaped eyes made his smile far from friendly.

“Yeah,” Encrid replied bluntly.

Ragna shot him a questioning look.

“An acquaintance?”

“From my mercenary days…” Encrid trailed off, deciding to keep it brief.

“A bastard I ran into.”

That summed it up well enough.

The man was a scumbag—a traitor who stabbed his allies in the back, raped women, and killed them afterward.

Encrid should have killed him back then.

After crossing a noble and fleeing, the bastard had apparently ended up here.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“Friend?”

Encrid felt a rare sense of disgust.

‘Friends with someone like that?’

Ragna once again asked with his eyes.

“No. Just a bastard,” Encrid said curtly.

Ragna nodded in understanding.

“Hah, well, your tongue was always sharp. But you managed to stay alive? What, been selling yourself to survive?”

Such accusations weren’t new; he had heard them often during his mercenary days—mostly because of his face.

Even after joining the military, such comments would occasionally surface.

Though it had been a while since someone last mocked him in this way. Recently, no one dared to taunt him.

After proving his skill, no one had a reason to.

Thus, Encrid brushed off the provocation without much concern.

Ragna didn’t care either. ‘He’s dead meat anyway.’

“You take care of him, Captain,” Ragna said, stepping aside.

It seemed he intended to handle the other nine himself.

“Three of you against the ten of us?”

“I’m not fighting. Just focus on those two,” Krys said from behind, his tone dry.

Encrid scanned their surroundings.

What had these ten done?

It was clear they were no ordinary foes, given the hesitation in the allied soldiers nearby.

The scattered corpses littering the area caught his attention.

Bodies riddled with holes.

The telltale marks of a weapon frequently used by this bastard.

Encrid’s gaze swept over the other corpses, noting the wounds.

Cuts and stabs from swords, spears, and daggers were evident.

But something about the wounds seemed off—peculiarly filthy.

Even the puncture marks had an air of deliberate cruelty, as though the victims had been tortured.

“They’re killers obsessed with blade skills,” Ragna commented from beside him. “They seek to improve their technique through murder. It’s fine. Haven’t I told you before? If you don’t walk the right path, your limits are inevitable.”

He had said that. That being shackled to Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship would eventually lead to stagnation.

That’s why Encrid had built new foundations and advanced again.

It was a road with a clear milestone.

Encrid drew his sword.

‘Chiring.’

“I’ll take him.”

Just as Ragna had implied, this wasn’t merely a fight—it could be seen as vengeance or a chapter in a tale of retribution.

Encrid decided to honor his comrades whose hearts had been torn out by harpies and those who had died back then.

He would do so by severing the neck of this depraved scum.