Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 150

Seduction, drinking, and partying.

It was a night of indulgence.

Had there ever been a party like this before?

Encrid searched his memories. It felt like the first time in years—maybe even his entire life—that he had experienced something like this.

Certainly, this was the first for the Border Guard. Even for Encrid personally, he’d only experienced such moments a handful of times since birth.

Perhaps during his mercenary days, there were gatherings that resembled banquets.

What had he done back then?

Barely wet his lips with alcohol and focused on revisiting battles in his mind.

—

“Have a drink, squad leader.”

It wasn’t just Finn or the Elf Commander offering him a drink; others handed him cups as well.

“When it’s time to have fun, you have to enjoy it. Don’t be such a bore,” even Rem chimed in.

So, Encrid drank. It wasn’t that he didn’t drink at all—he just didn’t enjoy it often.

‘Gulp.’

The sharp scent tickled his nose, and the sweet liquid slid down his throat, warming his stomach.

‘Not bad.’

Though neither a connoisseur nor a heavy drinker, his years of wandering had exposed him to all sorts of food and drink.

It was often said that the poor traveler ate whatever they could, yet they were also the best judges of flavor.

‘This must’ve cost quite a bit of Krong.’

It seemed Marcus had loosened his purse strings. Or rather, the Border Guard had treated the soldiers to this feast.

Surely, this wasn’t coming out of Marcus’ own pocket.

Regardless, Encrid ate, drank, and enjoyed the moment.

When he resolved to rest, he gave it his all. He knew that proper rest was vital preparation for what came next.

—

‘What a beautiful night.’

The moon and stars illuminated the sky like a tapestry of light. It felt like such a night deserved more than just drinking.

“Drinking should only be to cleanse the palate, brother. Now, shall we arm wrestle?” Audin’s cheerful voice rang out.

“You bastard, are you being picky again?” Rem’s voice carried a mocking tone.

“It simply doesn’t suit my taste,” Ragna replied curtly.

And where had Jaxson gone?

Apparently, he’d ventured into the city.

Jaxson didn’t seem like the type to enjoy banquets anyway.

—

Encrid found a seat and settled into it. Around him, soldiers were busy eating and drinking, their energy infectious.

Some shouted enthusiastically, others peppered their tales with curses as they recounted battle stories.

Every now and then, Finn, the Elf Commander, or another soldier would approach to speak with him.

In fact, he seemed to be the most popular figure at the banquet.

—

“I always knew you’d shine one day.”

It was Vell.

The soldier who had narrowly escaped death from an arrow during Encrid’s first repeat of that day.

Perhaps Vell’s fate had shifted thanks to Encrid.

“So, you want to spar?” Encrid joked.

“Spar? No way! I’ve heard you even took down the frontier garrison.”

“Just got lucky.”

Luck—it had become a habitual refrain.

“Does luck get you that far?” Vell laughed, his face lighting up with an innocent smile.

Shortly after, Benzense approached.

“Why are you here?” Encrid asked with a sigh.

Benzense didn’t answer directly. Instead, he offered a drink, chugged it, and quickly turned away.

In the past, Encrid wouldn’t have understood Benzense’s behavior, but now he did.

Words of comfort didn’t have to be grand to matter. Even if they were spoken casually, they could still reach the other person.

—

“The world is vast.”

Encrid spoke as if reciting a mantra, aiming to console Benzense.

“And there are plenty of women.”

‘Thunk.’

Benzense froze mid-step. The emotions behind his earlier sigh—jealousy and envy—were clear.

After all, he’d witnessed the Elf Commander and Finn inviting Encrid for drinks, as well as the peculiar looks from a few of the barmaids.

Was the comment inappropriate?

Benzense turned halfway back, his eyes burning with ghostly flames.

“You bastard.”

Seeing that reaction, Encrid concluded that his words had been effective.

Better to ignite a fiery determination than leave him sulking.

“Jenny?” Encrid feigned surprise, looking over Benzense’s shoulder.

Benzense spun around with alarming speed.

Jenny, the herb seller, was Benzense’s Achilles’ heel.

She was also the reason Benzense had initially resented Encrid.

—

‘Creaaaak.’

When Benzense realized there was no one behind him, he slowly turned back toward Encrid, his neck making an unsettling noise reminiscent of a skeleton warrior’s.

“You bastard! Spar with me.”

A spar? Encrid had planned to rest, but there was no avoiding it now.

“Fine.”

Encrid stood, his body straightening. Benzense immediately regretted his challenge.

He knew from experience that he wasn’t a match for Encrid.

But how could he stand by and let himself be mocked?

—

“They’re fighting!”

“Who? Who?”

“Benzense, the squad leader.”

“And his opponent?”

“The Seductive Squad Leader!”

That nickname again.

Encrid let the surrounding chatter flow past him, but the words “seductive” stuck in his mind.

It didn’t suit him. Not at all.

He recalled similar moments in the past.

Hadn’t Audin once called him stubborn?

Stubborn? Not true.

Seductive? Also not true. It was all a misunderstanding.

—

“Wait! Hold on!” A voice called out from the crowd.

It was Krys, who had reappeared suddenly.

“Hold on. If there’s going to be a fight, we need a proper wager!”

Krys stepped into the circle, glancing between Encrid and Benzense.

“…Not that anyone would know this, but Benzense is trained in covert assassination techniques. Anyone betting on him?”

The silence answered for itself. No one placed a bet.

—

The spar began.

Benzense swung his sword with all his strength, but Encrid didn’t let his guard down.

As always, his eyes glinted with focus, his body poised.

Watching Benzense’s falling sword, Encrid shifted smoothly, raising his blade horizontally to block. At the same time, he swept his leg and struck Benzense’s thigh with his knee.

It was a blend of fundamentals and unconventional techniques.

“Argh!”

Benzense collapsed, clutching his side where Encrid’s knee had struck.

“Hmm.”

Encrid felt a vague sense of dissatisfaction, like pausing midstream during a relieving moment.

One strike—was that all it took?

Benzense was supposed to be a soldier aiming for higher ranks, wasn’t he?

“Didn’t I say something like, the soldier ranking system is a farce, or something along those lines?”

Rem’s voice echoed in his memory.

Looking around for someone like Rem, Encrid instead noticed a crowd of soldiers staring at him with peculiar expressions—eyes filled with admiration and awe.

He frowned briefly before relaxing his face.

What he wanted wasn’t admiration. What he wanted was someone to challenge him.

For a while, there had been an influx of sparring requests, but those had dwindled recently.

Even the frontier garrison soldiers were scarce now.

Just earlier, he thought he saw the frontier garrison captain among the soldiers.

And wasn’t the captain of the First Company nearby too?

Encrid scanned for them, and it wasn’t hard to spot them.

They’d been on his radar for a while.

But the heavy-armored captain was already drunk, and the garrison captain showed no signs of wanting to step up.

Both shared one thing in common—they were holding drinks and clearly uninterested in fighting.

“I was going to suggest a drink,” the First Company captain said with a flushed face before shaking his head, muttering about “crazy people,” and turning away.

Curious, Encrid glanced behind himself.

Surely, if he’d been called crazy, Rem had to be nearby, right?

He wasn’t.

So, who had the comment been directed at?

It certainly couldn’t have been him. After all, wasn’t he the only ‘sane’ one in the mad squad?

—

“What can I say? Should I be flattered that I meet their expectations of insanity?”

The garrison captain left with a similar comment, leaving Encrid alone once more.

To the side, the Elf Commander and Finn watched him. Esther, the panther, sat near them, yawning widely before turning her head.

For a moment, Encrid wondered if the panther had tried to cover her mouth with her paw. Could such a small paw even cover that wide yawn?

‘She almost seems human sometimes,’ Encrid thought, shaking his head.

He considered sheathing his sword.

It felt like pausing midstream or leaving a conversation unfinished—frustrating and unresolved.

What could he do? There simply wasn’t anyone around to match his energy.

—

“Are you really going to do it?”

“Yeah.”

The voices caught his attention, followed by an electrifying sensation that prickled his skin. It was as if a blade had materialized in the air.

Encrid instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Turning to the source of the tension, he saw Andrew.

‘Shing.’

Andrew wasn’t just standing there. He was drawing his sword—poised and ready to strike at any moment.

His movements carried a sense of resolve, and the interplay of starlight and torchlight reflected off his face, casting it in hues of blue and red.

Though his expression was calm, the steel in his gaze revealed his determination.

Andrew spoke, his voice steady.

“I’ve studied the Gardner family’s swordsmanship, sharpened it in battle, and walked a solitary path where giving up isn’t an option.”

Mack, who had been standing nearby, quietly stepped back, as did the surrounding soldiers.

The crowd created space, leaving Encrid and Andrew in the center.

One had his hand resting on his sword hilt, while the other had already drawn his blade.

Andrew, unwavering in his stance, continued speaking.

“I seek your guidance.”

For a moment, Encrid met Andrew’s gaze. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no admiration—only a burning intensity.

It was exactly the kind of determination Encrid appreciated.

‘Whoosh.’

The sound of a torch flaring nearby punctuated the moment.

A pleasant night breeze swept through.

It was said that spring carried magic—a phrase Encrid had heard so many times it bordered on annoying.

But tonight, it seemed true.

—

Encrid lifted his head to the sky.

The stars glittered above, a cascade of light filling the vast expanse.

Lowering his gaze, he finally spoke.

“Isn’t this a perfect night for a fight?”

He meant it. A night like this felt too precious to be wasted on a simple banquet.

If it had been another night—one without this brilliant starlight—perhaps he would’ve just enjoyed the revelry.

But this night was too extraordinary for that.

“Then let’s begin,” Andrew replied, raising his sword.

Encrid faced him, ready.

Their relationship had begun as scout and squad leader, but it had evolved rapidly.

Now, as Andrew’s sword danced in the starlight, it felt like a declaration.

His strikes were swift, focused on exploiting weaknesses—a blade honed for combat.

Encrid met him with equal care, precision, and intensity, revealing everything he had.

It was only right.

Andrew was giving his all, so Encrid would do the same.

Watching from a distance, Esther found the scene fascinating.

‘Tonight is truly…’

The panther pondered how the air seemed charged with magical energy.

To those attuned to such things, this night felt undeniably different.

The fight was not long.

The outcome was clear.

“Anyone who placed bets on this match, come forward!” Krys’ voice rang out, louder and sharper than usual.

He was perhaps the most energetic and passionate person on this night.

‘Thud.’

The sound of Andrew collapsing echoed across the field.

There hadn’t been dozens of exchanges—barely ten strikes, and the match was over.

Encrid extended a hand to Andrew, helping him to his feet.

As he did, a question crossed his mind.

“Are you planning to leave?”

“Phew, yes,” Andrew replied, exhaling deeply.

“Why?”

“There’s something I need to do.”

Then he had to go. You couldn’t hold back someone who had already made up their mind.

“It’s been fun.”

“It has, captain,” Andrew said with a smile. He was like a younger brother—someone who carried that kind of warmth.

“I’ve learned so much.”

Encrid nodded at Andrew’s heartfelt words.

—

For some, this was a night to drink themselves senseless.

For others, it was a night to gamble and chase after Krong.

For Encrid, it had been something else entirely.

For some, it was a banquet to strengthen camaraderie.

For Encrid, it was a night of starlight and sparring—a perfect evening to duel under the stars.

—

After Andrew’s duel, a few more emboldened soldiers challenged him, their spirits fueled by the heated atmosphere.

Encrid welcomed them.

The night passed with eating, drinking, and fighting.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he slept. But as always, he woke at the crack of dawn.

Morning training awaited.

The banquet might have come and gone, but his duties remained unchanged.

As he stepped into the training yard, however, he found an unexpected guest waiting.

The party had stretched on until the middle of the night.

Duty shifts were handled by another battalion that hadn’t participated in the battle.

“Thanks for covering for us,” Marcus had said, his gratitude genuine.

“It’s no trouble,” the commander replied, accepting Marcus’ request without hesitation.

After all, Marcus wasn’t just any battalion commander.

Back in the capital, he was destined for a new identity.

A noble, one of the five families wielding core power.

—

When the commander left, Marcus set down the bottle of liquor he had been holding.

He had engaged in festivities for the sake of morale, an act uncharacteristic of him.

Marcus much preferred tea to alcohol.

Even when he drank, he had a habit of mixing his liquor with tea.

He favored quiet spaces over noisy gatherings.

‘Perhaps it’s the result of my childhood education.’

The tea ceremonies he had been taught within his family had left their mark.

It didn’t matter much now. It was a habit he saw no need to break.

Marcus sipped his tea leisurely.

Even from his quarters, the noise of the festivities reached him.

Though summoning courtesans had been forbidden, many soldiers had still likely ventured to the red-light district after drinking.

Tonight, however, was about loosening control, showing leniency rather than strict discipline.

As the night wore on, a few familiar commanders dropped by.

Among them were those mindful of power and others who admired him for his reputation as a “war fanatic” and a battlefield hero.

Most of the captains had made an appearance.

‘Except for one.’

The Elf Commander was absent.

Not that it mattered much. Whether she sought favor or avoided sharing a drink with him was equally unimportant.

So Marcus continued his quiet evening, mixing his liquor with tea and chatting with the commanders.

When the moon replaced the sun in the sky, Marcus retired early.

He slept deeply, dreamlessly.

—

In the stillness of the early morning:

‘Knock, knock.’

“Commander.”

The voice of one of his guards, along with a firm knock, woke Marcus.

“What is it?”

He glanced at the window. It was still before dawn, the sky a blend of blue and orange hues that signaled the start of a new day.

“You have a visitor.”

A visitor? At this hour?

It was far too early for any ordinary person to come calling.

Who could it be, at this moment, in this time?

It had to be someone unconcerned with human formalities or noble authority.

Marcus didn’t seem flustered.

Though he hadn’t expected them this soon, he had an idea of who it might be.

‘I thought they wouldn’t come until tomorrow at the earliest.’

The battlefield cleanup had only just concluded.

Was this an impatient delivery, or had they themselves been anticipating this meeting?

“I’ll be out shortly.”

Marcus threw on a jacket over his shirt, letting it hang loosely as he stepped outside.

The guest had arrived, and now it was time to deliver his gift.

A gift that had been carefully considered, the result of much deliberation.

Its recipient was, of course, Encrid.