Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 141: Rem of the Charge

“We need to move the encampment forward. Leaving it as it is isn’t an option. We’ll secure the forested area and strike their rear.”

“What are you saying? If we advance recklessly, what happens to our retreat line? Do you even know how many rear guards Azpen has?”

“Then, are you suggesting we let that guerilla unit run rampant?”

“Because we’re ignoring them, morale is dropping even further.”

It was a strategic meeting. Around a table in the center, company captains and their deputies were gathered, speaking all at once.

First Company Captain Graham advocated for an aggressive advance.

Paltor, on the other hand, brought up another issue. Third Company Captain Rayon had died in a previous battle to an elven assassin, leaving his position vacant. As a result, the lieutenant of the first platoon of the third company had stepped up to fill the void.

That lieutenant kept silent, seemingly having nothing to add.

The rest of the seats were filled by Marcus’s deputies.

Opinions were offered, examined, and cross-verified. Watching this, the elven company commander found it all pointless.

The issue was clear.

‘The enemy has a tactician.’

On this side, however, there was none.

Battalion Commander Marcus’s nickname was “War Fanatic.”

Contrary to his nickname, he wasn’t stupid. Just observing his attitude toward Encrid was proof of that.

He knew how to elevate his subordinates, manage morale, and ride the tide of a situation.

Compared to the previous battalion commander, Marcus might as well be an archangel.

But Marcus wasn’t a tactical commander.

When Marcus needed to reverse the flow of a battle, what did he rely on?

Brilliant strategy? No. He either led personally or used a powerful armed force.

His approach in the last battle made that clear.

In the end, Marcus’s method relied on two swords.

One was the heavily armored First Company.

The other was his direct command, the Border Guards.

This made it evident: Marcus was a commander who prioritized brute force over strategy.

The enemy, on the other hand…

‘They’re clearly the tactical type.’

The elven company commander, having lived a long life, had no shortage of experience.

In such cases, the clumsy reactions of allies often led them straight into traps.

What if this was bait to lure them deeper?

What if the main force advanced further, only to be ambushed by enemy traps?

Even gathering intelligence was challenging, as this area was essentially the enemy’s backyard.

Sending reconnaissance deeper? Considering the guerrilla activity, it would lead to a game of cat and mouse across ridges.

Ignoring the guerrillas and striking the enemy’s rear? It might not be a bad option.

To the west lay the Cross Guards.

To the northeast lay the enemy’s main force.

The army couldn’t decide which direction to take.

When directionless, holding position was the best option.

After all, their mere presence threatened the enemy’s main force.

Ignoring the enemy’s tricks and holding firm wasn’t a bad choice.

Thud.

Marcus slammed his fist on the table with the strategy map spread over it.

Several game pieces and pins toppled over.

“To put it bluntly, we can’t advance or retreat in this situation, can we? We need actionable suggestions, not more talk!”

He was clearly frustrated.

In a normal scenario, the main force should have already routed the enemy’s main force and regrouped. Instead, the battle was dragging on.

Meanwhile, the enemy’s guerrillas kept harassing them, drawing attention and making plans to counter them all the more frustrating.

In the end, the strategy meeting ended inconclusively.

No worthwhile suggestions had been made.

As the elven company commander left the meeting and approached her quarters, a figure blocked her path.

It was a platoon leader armed with peculiar equipment—swords strapped to both sides of his waist.

Pressing his sword with his left hand, he bowed slightly. After saluting, Platoon Leader Encrid spoke.

“I would like to propose a tactical suggestion and request temporary operational command.”

The elf stared at him, noting his handsome face. Her expression asked what kind of suggestion he had.

From her perspective, Encrid didn’t seem like the type to devise clever strategies.

He was more the type to fight head-on.

“If you’re here to propose marriage, your timing is off, Platoon Leader.”

She casually joked in her own way.

By now, Encrid was accustomed to such remarks and calmly replied.

“This is about military strategy.”

Could she dismiss the opinion of a mere platoon leader?

No, she couldn’t.

Regardless of her personal feelings, Encrid had proven himself on every battlefield.

“Speak.”

Encrid kept his words brief.

“I request temporary command to disrupt the enemy’s formation.”

“And?”

“I also request support from one soldier skilled in navigation.”

“That’s all?”

“Additionally, I suggest the main force carve a path westward.”

The elf tilted her head slightly, listening.

Encrid explained what he had observed.

Where the army was positioned.

How the army’s movements would influence the enemy.

What outcomes such influence could produce.

It was a combination of observation and prediction.

“What if your expectations are off?”

“Then we retreat.”

In that case, they would retreat. From the start, the strategy was built with retreat in mind. The elven company commander wasn’t foolish. The moment she heard the plan, her mind raced.

‘This is workable.’

No, it wasn’t just workable. It seemed like the best option under the circumstances.

Each piece might be trivial on its own, but together, they could achieve something significant.

If luck was on their side…

And if Encrid personally led his platoon to carry it out…

“You’ll lead this?” the elf asked.

“No,” Encrid shook his head. He had no intention of stealing credit from his subordinates.

“This was the idea of a soldier named Krys.”

For Krys, it was a desperate suggestion made to avoid escalating risks.

If it worked, great. If not, he figured the leadership would at least have a backup plan.

Unexpectedly, it turned out to be the most needed suggestion.

“Fine.”

Leaving just that word, the elven company commander turned on her heels and headed toward the battalion commander’s tent where the strategy meeting had been held.

Soon after, the army’s movements shifted. They abandoned their positions and began preparing for a march.

While this was happening, Encrid had armed his platoon and begun speaking.

There wasn’t much need for a speech when heading into an operation, especially among them.

“Rem.”

“Yes?”

“Shall we go after that archer?”

He asked plainly, directing his question only to Rem.

Rem’s eyebrow twitched slightly—a sign of satisfaction.

“Sounds good.”

The smile Rem gave in response almost reeked of bloodlust.

“Just a little warm-up. Anyone want to sit this one out?”

Encrid made eye contact with each member: Ragna, Audin, Jaxson, Andrew, and Mack.

If anyone had wanted to bow out, he would have let them, but no one did.

Among them, he added, “This is Finn, who’s joining the platoon as of today.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Finn had been assigned to them. When Encrid requested support, they sent over a ranger who had formerly operated with the light-armored archery unit. That unit had now been reassigned to the Second Company, leaving Finn’s position ambiguous.

As a result, Finn ended up in the platoon as a squad leader—a bit of an awkward situation.

Even for an independent platoon, their numbers barely reached ten, and now they had two squad leaders.

A chaotic organizational structure, to put it mildly, but what could they do? This was the nature of their misfit platoon.

Finn had transferred because of Encrid. Even if it meant taking a demotion to squad leader, she wanted to keep an eye on him.

There were also other… personal reasons.

She had her objectives, including wanting to meet certain people.

“I’m Finn. Don’t expect me to throw my rank around as a squad leader. Let’s keep things casual. You must be Audin, right?”

Finn was direct. She said what she wanted and acted as she pleased.

One of her goals stood before her now—Audin, the one who had taught Encrid the Valaf-style martial arts.

Finn licked her lips once, her gaze fixed on Audin. His physique was impressive, tempting even.

‘Encrid aside, he seems promising too,’ she thought. Though she wondered if his impressive appearance hid an empty core.

She had confirmed Encrid’s potential the moment they met by the stream that day. That meeting had left an indelible mark, especially the view beneath his abs…

“Hmm.”

Finn shook off her thoughts. This wasn’t the time for such distractions.

“Yes, sister. The name’s Audin, granted by the Lord,” Audin replied with a grin, extending his hand for a firm shake.

Meanwhile, Rem, Ragna, and Jaxson barely paid attention, while Andrew approached to exchange greetings as a fellow squad leader. Mack simply nodded.

This was the team they had assembled.

“Now then, let’s begin with the operation overview,” Encrid said, looking at Krys.

His expression made it clear: ‘Your turn now.’

Krys cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped forward.

“Well, since the enemy guerrilla unit is causing trouble, we’ll do the same to them.”

Krys knew that complicating his explanation would only confuse the group. Instead, he kept things simple and straightforward.

The gist of his plan was this:

The enemy was using the terrain to disrupt their forces.

So, why couldn’t they do the same?

While the Border Guards had attempted similar tactics, Krys felt their efforts hadn’t left a strong impression on the enemy.

So, what could they do differently?

Make sure the enemy ‘never’ forgot this.

“Shall we get going?” Krys said, his voice a bit deflated.

Rem chuckled at him and responded, “That’s not how you rally the troops! You say, ‘Let’s wipe them out!’”

Rem raised his voice toward the end, grinning.

Only Encrid reacted.

“Not bad,” he said calmly.

The others ignored him. Jaxson had already started walking when Rem spoke, even asking Finn, “Not coming?”

Finn, observing the subtle hostility within the platoon, sighed internally. She had heard the warnings.

“This isn’t a normal platoon. Are you sure you’ll be fine?” the elven company commander had cautioned her.

Finn had nodded, her focus on Encrid and Audin.

The rest of the platoon? She could deal with them as needed.

With that, Encrid’s platoon began moving.

Finn led the way, finding the trail.

Tracking the enemy guerrillas would have been a pointless loop, so they targeted something else—the enemy’s main force.

For Finn, finding them was no issue.

“Phew, if there’s a knight, wouldn’t that cause trouble?” Andrew remarked.

Krys, the weakest combatant in the group, replied, “I doubt it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“If there was a knight, we’d just gauge the situation and retreat. Besides, if the enemy had the resources to deploy knights or other troops to their rear, they wouldn’t need guerrilla units in the first place. Those guerrillas are just a diversion.”

“And why is that?” Andrew started, but Krys cut him off.

“Enough of that.”

Andrew had seen it before: Krys would ramble on endlessly once he got started.

Half of what he said was incomprehensible anyway.

To Krys, this was frustrating. No one seemed to listen, except for Encrid, who paid close attention and showed genuine consideration.

That was satisfying, at least.

Even Krys felt some unease about his plan. As he quickened his pace to walk beside Encrid, he said, “Commander, I believe those guerrillas are just a distraction. They want us to stay put, remain idle, or move into traps they’ve prepared. If that’s the case, we should act unpredictably and move in a way they don’t expect.”

Krys’s plan continued, and Encrid listened carefully.

“Why are you repeating this?” Encrid finally asked.

“You’ve already told me. This is the third time.”

“Ah, well, I just felt like saying it again… Never mind.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Commander, you wouldn’t understand.”

Krys considered himself an ordinary person, unlike Encrid, who seemed extraordinary.

To him, someone like Encrid couldn’t possibly grasp what it meant to lack talent. In Krys’s mind, giving up dreams was the normal thing to do when faced with limitations. Dreams?

Chasing after something like that—how could it possibly be normal?

It wasn’t a realistic goal. It was, quite literally, a dream.

And yet, every day, he repeated the same routine. Training endlessly. Day after day, demonstrating what it meant to push oneself to the limit.

How could this possibly be considered normal?

Krys stopped speaking. Watching his commander, he felt as though no matter what happened, Encrid would find a way to overcome it.

His anxiety subsided a little.

“This way.”

Finn, a skilled ranger and pathfinder, led the group.

Despite being unfamiliar with the terrain, she was adept at tracking.

The enemy’s guerrilla unit had tried various tricks to cover their tracks, leaving traps along the way.

Some of the Border Guards had pursued them with fervor, encountering these traps several times.

The misfit platoon, however, didn’t bother with such traces.

They marched straight ahead—directly toward the enemy’s rear.

Through forests and across ridges, they pressed on until the enemy’s rear guard finally came into view.

“I’ll go first. And if anyone goes ahead of me, I’ll make sure to smash the back of their head. Consider yourselves warned.”

Rem growled his warning, and the others allowed it.

No one seemed interested in taking the lead anyway.

Krys surveyed the enemy’s formation.

Spread across the broad terrain, from the tall grasses to this spot, the enemy had positioned themselves.

This must be the rear, or perhaps the right flank.

That seemed about right. They had crossed ridges for over half a day to get here.

“Do you see any knights?” Encrid asked.

Jaxson, with his keen eyesight, scanned the area.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

Then it was time to begin.

Rem descended the ridge first, with Encrid following close behind.

As they moved down the slope, dust rose around them.

Remaining behind were Mack, Andrew, Finn, Audin, and Jaxson. They stayed back as both support and backup in case anything went wrong.

Only Rem, Encrid, and Ragna descended.

“I’ll be watching,” Ragna said as he stayed close to Encrid. He wanted to see for himself how well Encrid had mastered the dual-wielding techniques he had taught him.

‘A test, huh.’

To Encrid, it felt like an experiment as well.

The art of wielding two swords—how effective would it be?

“What’s this?”

The enemy’s sentries spotted the three approaching figures and spoke. The descent had kicked up dust, and the open terrain left no cover.

They reached the fertile plains—the land that would soon belong to whoever won this battle.

Rem raised a hand and waved casually, as though greeting an old friend.

“Hey!”

His nonchalance made the enemy soldier tilt his head in confusion. Was that an enemy? Or not?

As the distance between them closed, the sentry raised his voice, signaling them to stop.

At that moment, Rem’s hand moved.

The handaxe at his waist flew through the air.

His movement was lightning fast.

The throwing axe arced through the air, tracing a long trajectory before embedding itself with a dull ‘thud’.

A new “decoration” adorned the enemy sentry’s head—a fatal one.

The axe lodged deep, and the soldier staggered back, his arms flailing briefly before he collapsed with a heavy thud.

The sentry next to him hastily reached for his whistle, but Rem was faster.

With explosive power in his legs, he launched into a charge.

Encrid knew of Rem’s abilities, yet the display still shocked him.

The charge was reminiscent of that knight—back when Encrid had seen him sprint with such ferocity.

Rem wasn’t even at that level, yet his charge was eerily similar.

‘Rem.’

It seemed he had been holding back.

As Rem closed the gap, he grabbed the sentry’s wrist and twisted.

‘Crack.’

“Guh.”

With his other hand, wielding an axe, Rem swung horizontally, slashing through the sentry’s neck.

‘Thud.’

The soldier fell, blood pouring from his half-severed neck and staining the ground.

“Geez, they’re pathetically weak,” Rem muttered, standing between the two fallen sentries.