Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 131: A Single Sparring Match That Changed the Battlefield

Rem was exhilarated.

Ragna, fueled by the excitement, burned with determination.

Audin felt as though he had found an answer during his sparring with Encrid.

Prayers directed toward the Lord were always questions, and the answers never came.

The Lord wielded silence as His weapon.

Finding answers within that silence was humanity’s task.

Yet, at times—only rarely—Audin believed that God did offer answers.

Even if not through spoken words, He expressed them through other means.

Through that sparring match, Audin felt as though he had heard an answer from Encrid. It was as if…

‘What could that man possibly achieve through such effort? Can his efforts bear fruit?’

A person’s struggles quickly brushed against Audin’s longstanding questions.

‘Why, despite commanding us to protect the weak, do You not safeguard them? Why do You not reward their struggles?’

The strong and the weak, good and evil—these timeless dilemmas weighed heavily on him.

Why did those he deemed ‘evil’ thrive, while those he thought of as ‘good’ suffered?

He had witnessed good-hearted weaklings and noble strong ones fall.

He had seen evil prosper even within the sacred grounds proclaimed to be the Lord’s cradle and sanctuary.

Why did the Lord merely watch?

Why did He not intervene?

Why did inquisitors, those tasked with eradicating heresy, only bind the powerless with thorns atop their wagons?

Why did the Lord allow even this?

And yet, amidst it all, there was a man who lived as though he could drain a river dry with sheer effort.

He stood firmly before Audin, unchanged and steadfast, just as the sun rises every morning.

If God truly existed, He should provide an answer.

He could not turn away from someone who lived, burning so brightly.

Was there divine intervention?

Audin didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

But even if there wasn’t, it didn’t matter.

Through his time with Encrid, Audin had learned something too.

‘The questions lie within me.’

The ‘answers’ were within him as well.

Through the sparring match, he felt as though he had found answers to his questions.

To put it honestly and plainly—

A sense of clarity filled his chest.

It was enough to crush the skulls of a few enemy soldiers with this feeling alone.

Thus, Audin joined the sparring with Encrid.

Rem had already stepped forward, and so had Ragna.

No one would know before or after this moment, but for now, it could be said that Encrid’s fervor had shifted the tides of the battlefield.

That sparring match had stirred the hearts of the entire squad, pushing them forward into battle.

‘Lord, today I send to Your side those destined to stay by You.’

Killing could be considered a sin.

Yet, it could also not be.

All religions reflected their era, and Audin was no exception. His Lord did not shy away from killing.

If necessary, he could act. He could send warriors to stand by the Lord without holding back his strength.

Audin stepped forward boldly. The allied soldiers whispered among themselves but quickly fell silent.

“Those blessed with the coin of the Goddess of Fortune, it would be wise to step back.”

Audin spoke with compassion and mercy.

The mist allowed only a narrow view ahead.

One of the enemy soldiers noticed Audin and sneered.

“Are you trying to mimic the giant on our side?”

It could seem that way. Audin smiled faintly, unbothered by the remark.

There was no need for anger when he would soon send this man to the Lord’s side and grant him a chance for forgiveness.

There was no room for human displeasure in this moment.

“I do not impersonate others, brother.”

“Brother, my ass.”

They stood a few paces apart, facing each other. Audin slowly began to count.

“Five.”

No one understood the meaning behind the number.

“What’s he saying? Kill him!”

The battlefield, ignited by the presence of the enemy’s giant, began to heat up the soldiers.

The Azpen soldier who had confronted Audin thrust his spear forward.

Thud.

Audin deflected the spearhead with the back of his hand, smoothly redirecting it outward.

The spear wavered, its force dissipated.

The enemy soldier nearly stumbled before regaining his balance.

“Four.”

Audin continued his count.

“You bastard!”

The enemy soldier gestured, signaling his squad. He led a group and quickly moved to surround Audin.

Spears—one of the best weapons for infantry—pointed at him from all sides.

Ten soldiers surrounded one man.

“Three.”

Audin counted again, taking in the situation.

“This lunatic…”

Despite his words, the squad leader felt uneasy. A chill ran down his back, and his stomach churned.

What was that earlier?

How could anyone deflect a spear so easily with a bare hand?

Was he wearing something on his hand? He did wear thin white gloves, but they didn’t look like battle gauntlets.

And yet… his hands seemed unnaturally large.

“Two.”

Before he could dwell further, the countdown continued.

The squad leader spat on the ground and barked, “Kill him!”

As the command fell—

“One.”

Audin’s final number left his lips.

This was his final show of mercy.

A warning for those blessed by the Goddess of Fortune’s coin to step back.

‘At least for today.’

Though he wasn’t a herald of the War God, he had been called by Him today.

Audin hoped the enemy would send someone akin to their giant.

If he were to invoke the name of the War God, he wanted a proper fight.

“Well then.”

Amidst the spears flying toward him, Audin muttered indifferently.

‘One.’ As the word dropped, Audin drew his weapon.

It couldn’t be called a cherished blade. He had left his prized weapon behind at the temple.

This was merely a substitute—a wooden club, soaked in oil.

It bore no spikes or metal reinforcements, yet it was sufficient.

Swoosh.

To the enemy soldier thrusting his spear, it seemed as though Audin had vanished.

Of course, he hadn’t. He merely bent backward, dodging the spears while leaning as though reclining.

Three soldiers attacked simultaneously, each aiming for his chest.

Audin, demonstrating an agility that defied his bulk, pushed off the ground with the soles of his feet and stood upright.

He casually swung his club once, cutting an arc through the air.

‘Thud!’

With a single sweeping motion of the club, three spears clattered to the right, their shafts trembling violently.

“Ahh!”

As the three soldiers holding the spears staggered, losing their balance, Audin took another confident step forward.

Then, his club came crashing down on one of their heads.

‘Thwack!’

One blow, one head.

‘Wham! Thwack!’ ‘Wham! Thwack!’

One after another, three heads exploded in quick succession. Audin moved with the speed of a squirrel, completely at odds with his imposing stature.

“…What?”

What followed was more of the same. Whether it was a spear lunging at him or a throwing knife flying toward him, Audin either dodged effortlessly or caught it and threw it back.

Then, as he closed the distance, his club struck once more.

‘Thwack!’ The sound of bursting heads echoed.

It seemed as though a pumpkin would be tougher than these skulls.

A Naurilia soldier watching from behind stuck out his tongue in disbelief.

“That’s a monster.”

Dodge, strike, and win. It was a simple concept everyone understood, but few could execute like Audin.

With each ‘thwack’, heads burst open.

At first, he fought using only his two clubs.

When arrows began raining down and the enemy charged at him in earnest, he added kicks to his repertoire.

From that point on, it felt as if a charging cavalryman had entered the fray.

Enemies were flung away with every step he took forward.

“Hahaha!”

Audin let out a hearty laugh as he mowed through the enemy ranks.

“May the blessings of the War God be with you!”

He shouted once more, sounding like a man utterly unhinged.

But to the Naurilia soldiers watching, there was a sense of relief—this madman was on their side.

“Everyone, charge forward!”

The command center quickly assessed the situation and rallied the troops, advancing in sync with the changed tide.

Audin continued rampaging in the midst of the enemy ranks.

“You there, where do you think you’re going?!”

Even the skilled veterans of the Gray Dogs tried to take him down.

But—

“Welcome, brother!”

Audin feinted with his club, then spun on his left foot and delivered a kick with the force of a log.

‘Wham!’

‘Crack!’

A seemingly light kick folded his opponent’s body in half.

How could a kick have such power?

Did he have metal braces hidden under his boots?

The impact ruptured the victim’s internal organs, his face bursting with blood vessels, leaving his eyes bloodshot.

The body, crumpled in half, was flung into a cluster of enemy soldiers, toppling three or four of them.

“What the hell is this guy?!”

To the enemy soldiers, it was nothing short of bewildering.

Audin fought like an antlion, consuming everything that came toward him.

—

The elf commander stared at the approaching opponent.

The enemy was also an elf.

It wasn’t uncommon to face one’s kin in battle these days.

Times had changed.

How many elves still lived clustered together in the forests as they did in the past?

A closed society was bound to fade away.

And when it faded, it was forgotten—by gods and elves alike—until it fell to the hands of invaders.

The choices of previous generations had shaped the lives of those who came after them.

Among them were elves who traded their years for krona, becoming mercenaries or serving in armies for compensation.

Thus, the elf commander, Sinar, thought there wasn’t much difference between himself and his opponent.

Whether it was for krona or some other purpose, the fact remained—they were enemies, and they had to fight.

“A needle blade, is it?”

A ‘needle’ was a thin, pointed thrusting weapon, unlike the ‘leaf blade’ that was designed for slashing.

Both were specialized weapons for elves.

“An elf.”

The Azpen elf was a sharp-eyed man with short hair and a stubborn set to his mouth.

Then again, most elves were stubborn. Even Sinar, an elf himself, would admit that much.

The man’s blade was red, blood dripping from its tip onto the ground.

The two of them stood surrounded, their respective squads retreating to form a circle.

One was a commander.

The other was a secret weapon prepared by the military.

“If you run, I won’t chase you down,” the man said.

Sinar, staring at the blood-stained needle, unsheathed his own blade.

‘Cling!’

It was a ‘leaf blade.’

“I was about to say the same thing.”

The two exchanged blows.

The duel didn’t last long. Sinar was several steps ahead of the other elf in talent, skill, experience, and finesse.

In just a few strikes, the ‘leaf blade’ grazed the man’s neck.

‘Shing!’

The sensation in his hand confirmed the kill.

The elf clutched his neck and collapsed forward.

Watching him fall, Sinar felt an odd sense of discomfort.

‘Bastards.’

It had been a decoy.

The real threat came next.

He could feel at least three distinct killing intents targeting him.

They had used the decoy to draw his attention and strike from behind.

It was a tactic often used for assassinating commanders.

Their objective was painfully obvious.

The only variable was that his allies hadn’t arrived in time to save the decoy from dying.

And so, the elf had died with his eyes wide open, glaring.

‘Disgusting.’

Of course, on the battlefield, such tactics were only “disgusting” if they failed.

Unfortunately for the enemy, they had lost their chance to succeed.

The killing intent vanished.

There could only be two reasons:

Either the enemy had fled preemptively, or an external force had intervened.

It was the latter.

A man stood cleaning his sword on the dead elf’s clothing.

His eyes were a mix of brown and red, and his hair, the same reddish-brown, was moderately long but impeccably clean—untouched by the bloodshed.

Sinar had never seen this man drenched in blood, no matter the battle.

He was always pristine.

Except, of course, when he was with courtesans. Those times, his attire was a mess.

“Here?”

“Nothing else to do.”

Jaxson answered casually as Sinar addressed him.

Was Jaxson any different?

Watching Encrid, Jaxson couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his growth. If he stayed near him, he’d surely blurt it out.

His lips itched to speak, and his hands itched to act.

Somewhere, he wanted to unleash this feeling, and it seemed the perfect targets had appeared.

Emerging through the mist, Jaxson followed behind the elf commander.

He swiftly dispatched the three assassins targeting her.

It wasn’t a difficult task.

Though the enemies were elves and skilled by normal standards, to Jaxson, they were unremarkable.

Rather than being thoroughly trained, they relied on innate talent honed through experience, making them a relatively straightforward challenge for someone like him.

“Not going to check on your captain?”

At the elf’s question, Jaxson tilted his head slightly.

“If he were the type to die here, he’d have been dead long ago.”

It was high praise.

A testament to Jaxson’s unwavering trust in Encrid.

Encrid had grown to the point where he no longer needed constant oversight.

‘Next time.’

It would be time to teach him something other than how to walk.

Once he had sharpened his senses, the next step of training was clear.

If he could open the ‘Gate of the Sixth Sense,’

‘Observe, react.’

These were still things that required time and effort to master.

Had Jaxson ever taught anyone such things properly before?

He didn’t think so.

‘Sigh.’

Jaxson exhaled, wondering why he was taking this so seriously.

In truth, it wasn’t something he needed to teach at all.

The elf commander, observing him, spoke up.

“This battalion commander isn’t a fool. He knows how to fight by reading the flow of battle.”

Did she think Jaxson’s sigh was born of frustration at the unit’s lack of movement?

That wasn’t the case.

Jaxson, ever one to conceal his thoughts, hadn’t given her any reason to misunderstand.

The elf commander didn’t mistake his sigh for disinterest. She knew this eccentric squad hardly cared about such things.

Yet here was Jaxson, standing before her, having effortlessly slain three assassins to demonstrate his skill.

Her remark was a reflection of the shifting momentum of the battlefield.

Her words weren’t for Jaxson’s ears alone; they reached the surrounding soldiers as well.

The tide of the battle would shift, and with it, victory would come to their side.

“Form ranks!”

At her command, five company soldiers who had been idly standing as her guard moved to position themselves behind her.

Before the echo of her words had faded, horns blared from all directions, and messengers began to run.

As she had predicted,

Marcus could read the flow of battle and act accordingly.