Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 4: Heart of the Beast

“Everyone, assemble! 4th Platoon, gather!”

The platoon leader’s shout echoed in front of the barracks.

A day filled with fulfillment was drawing to an end.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was starting to set in the west.

“In simple terms, this isn’t something you can learn by just training your body. Practicing a hundred times is useless. But seeing how much you’ve learned through training, it’s hard to say you have no talent at all,” said Rem seriously, which was unusual for him, as they moved towards the platoon leader’s call.

“Really?”

Encrid just responded vaguely.

It was hard to believe what was happening to him. Even if he did, it would be a problem.

If word got out?

If it were truly a blessing from the gods, it might be okay, but any slip-up and he’d end up having a talk with the inquisitors.

Could a conversation with those inquisitors ever end well?

No way.

At best, he’d be burned at the stake; at worst, he’d face torture.

No one wants to be nailed to a cross or have their fingernails pulled out.

Of course, Encrid was no exception.

During his time as a mercenary, he’d seen many falsely accused of heresy.

He had even helped some of them in secret.

Someone might have sneered that he was selective in his suicides.

It was that dangerous of a task.

But he did it because it was the right thing to do.

Without doing that, he wouldn’t have had a reason to live as a swordsman.

“What’s with the relaxed attitude? It’s annoying to watch. Did you find a gold bar? Planning to desert? Don’t you know you’ll get into trouble if you try to hog it all to yourself?”

A gold bar…

He’d found something even better.

“Shut up and move.”

When the order to assemble is given, it’s time to move.

Encrid wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.

Wearing a helmet like this would make it smell terrible.

But there was no time to wash up at the stream now.

Standing next to him, Rem didn’t even break a sweat. What kind of training made him like that?

Encrid belonged to the 4th Platoon.

He moved to the platoon’s position.

‘Will it work?’

Learning in just one day was too much. But he’d gotten the hang of it to some extent.

Thanks to the experience of being stabbed to death.

“We are!”

The platoon leader shouted.

“Victorious!”

The platoon leader was a person who followed orders well without any particular quirks.

The gates of the battlefield were opening again.

The sun was setting, and twilight began to creep in.

His heart trembled.

Why?

Encrid asked himself.

The answer came quickly.

Fear.

He’d been stabbed to death three times.

That pain, that terror, it wasn’t something he could get used to, no matter how many times it happened.

Encrid rubbed his neck.

Even without a wound, it stung. It felt like he’d swallowed a blade.

“What’s wrong? Can’t manage your neck?”

Rem whispered from beside him.

“Get a grip. It’s the battlefield.”

Encrid stepped forward at the command “Advance!”

Rem matched his steps.

“Tension makes your body stiff. Didn’t you learn that from me?”

True enough. That’s why it was annoying.

The Heart of the Beast.

Few could master it through teaching alone.

He suppressed his pounding heart.

He synchronized his breathing with his steps.

“Yeah, that’s it. Try not to die today, dreamer.”

Listening to Rem, Encrid decided that if he died again today, he wouldn’t talk about his knight dream tomorrow.

Back on the battlefield.

Close combat ensued.

Another identical day. It was Encrid’s fourth today.

He tried to stop his shield from being split but gave up.

What’s the role of a shield anyway?

It’s foolish to try and save it when it’s meant to block swords, spears, and axes.

‘Instead…’

His idle thoughts were interrupted by something flying at him suddenly.

Without uttering a sound, he reflexively leaned back and raised his shield.

His body tensed automatically.

Thud!

A spearhead struck the edge of his shield.

He barely blocked it.

His left shoulder throbbed. It was a spear. A well-aimed, powerful strike.

The enemy retracted the spear and thrust again.

Normally, his stiff body wouldn’t have loosened up.

He would’ve blocked it with a rigid posture, continually facing danger.

But his mind was calm. This let him see the spearhead.

It was twice as slow as the thrust that had killed him.

So it was avoidable.

He watched the spearhead and simply turned his head.

Whoosh.

The spearhead grazed his helmet.

It was almost a stunt, something he’d never done before.

The Heart of the Beast didn’t excite easily.

Dodging with small movements.

It created an opening.

The calm mind gave him a new perspective.

Encrid noticed a gap between the enemy’s helmet and breastplate.

A slit just enough to glimpse the chin.

Not wide but not narrow either.

Enough for a blade to fit.

He gripped his sword and thrust upwards.

No extraordinary skill was needed.

Thunk.

The blade pierced from below, going through the chin to the throat.

“Gurk.”

The enemy soldier spewed blood and bits of tongue.

A well-aimed stab didn’t require great strength. Encrid recalled his sword instructor’s words.

“If you can dodge an attack with minimal movement, the rest becomes easy.”

It was a rather expensive training center, but the teachings were few.

And even those few, Encrid once thought were nonsense.

‘It was worth the money.’

One of those ‘nonsense’ teachings had become reality.

Minimal movement dodges and attacks were effective. Efficient.

He kicked the enemy’s abdomen and pulled out his sword.

Blood gushed from the hole under the chin.

The enemy collapsed.

“You bastard!”

Another soldier charged from behind. Encrid neither gasped nor responded hastily.

‘Six steps.’

Encrid counted the steps and cut the strap securing his shield with his sword.

Rip.

Rip.

After two cuts, the strap was severed. Wrapping his arm with the shield strap was a trick he learned to survive.

This way, he wouldn’t easily lose the shield in a melee.

But now, it was unnecessary.

The enemy approached. Encrid threw his shield.

Thud!

The spear-wielding enemy pulled back in surprise as the shield flew at him.

Naturally, the spear in his hands also retreated.

His movements slowed down.

The broad shield was enough to obscure the enemy’s vision momentarily.

Encrid took two steps to the left while the enemy’s view was blocked.

Helmets protect the head but narrow side vision.

Encrid had experienced several times where an enemy suddenly vanished from sight.

He often used this to deceive the enemy’s eyes, duck, and tackle them backward.

He had done the same thing on his first day of dying.

This time, he did it more cleanly.

From the enemy’s right. Encrid checked the enemy’s hands before charging. The front of the long spear was held with the left hand, the right hand gripping the back.

Right-handed.

Things he wouldn’t normally notice became clear.

A calm mind provided clarity.

In small skirmishes or duels, such tricks were sometimes used, but they were rarely employed in chaotic melees.

These were insights he gained while surviving as a mercenary.

A right-handed spearman finds it hard to swing to the right.

The enemy who blocked the shield frantically looked left and right.

He was shocked. Naturally. His opponent had suddenly disappeared.

The enemy’s eyes soon found Encrid again.

While his head turned, Encrid slashed diagonally from the back of his head to the front of his chest.

Thwack!

The armor covered the back of the neck.

Thick fabric and thin leather over it prevented a complete decapitation.

The blade embedded halfway into the back of the neck.

“Gah…”

The enemy’s eyes showed fear. Eyes wide open.

Blood gushed from the half-severed neck.

Despite being half-decapitated, the spearman reflexively swung the spear. The shaft lightly tapped Encrid’s right shoulder.

No real impact. The dying man couldn’t put strength into the blow.

Encrid lifted his sword and yanked it out.

Crunch.

It had been lodged in bone, requiring considerable force to extract. Blood and flesh clung to the blade.

Encrid glanced around the battlefield and picked up a broken shield instead of an axe from the ground.

Now he had that kind of luxury.

‘This works.’

It was surprisingly easy. Normally, only half of one’s usual ability showed in battle.

That’s expected.

How could anyone move normally in the thick of death and killing?

Some might go berserk, but most would be flustered.

Before his three deaths, Encrid had been the same, but now things were different.

‘I can do it.’

He felt he could handle that thrust.

What he did wasn’t enough to change the tide of battle.

He was just one soldier fighting a bit better.

No significant shift in the battle.

But for Encrid personally, it was a huge change.

After taking down a few more enemies,

“Ugh!”

Vel fell again.

A bit of extra time allowed Encrid to help him up.

“Are you alright?”

“Damn, there’s a rock here.”

It was a dry field.

It wasn’t unusual for rocks to stick out in such a place.

But Vel had tripped over his own feet.

So, Vel falling was just his clumsiness.

“Get it together.”

Encrid pulled Vel up by his hand.

“Thanks for saving me.”

Encrid didn’t let go of Vel’s hand, gripping it tightly.

“…Could you let go?”

Vel muttered, asking him to release his hand.

The half-split helmet, blood-soaked head, and Vel’s eyes were visible.

The flash of an arrow, and that arrow would soon pierce Vel’s head.

Encrid knew this already.

However, recognizing an arrow in the chaos of battle was extremely difficult. Too difficult.

Encrid tried to pull Vel towards him.

Vel stumbled, barely regaining his balance.

Thud.

Vel’s head split open.

An arrow had flown and shattered Vel’s head.

Blood splattered on Encrid’s breastplate.

Encrid, seeing Vel’s head explode, immediately ducked.

Something ominous whizzed overhead.

Probably an arrow.

It hit the corpse of a fallen ally behind him with a dull thud.

“Did you pray to the goddess of luck or something?”

Rem’s voice came as Encrid dodged.

He couldn’t protect Vel’s head, but he saved his own.

Rem would have saved him even if he hadn’t dodged.

For the fourth time, the same situation.

“Something like that.”

Encrid replied vaguely, making Rem snicker.

Through the gap in his helmet, Rem’s teeth were visible.

He had a fairly delicate appearance, but his manner of speaking and actions were rough and unrefined.

“Alright then. The guy shooting those arrows is supposedly Hawk’s Nipple or something. I’m going to find him. Pray ten more times to the goddess.”

“I’ll pray for you too, so you don’t die on the way.”

“That’d be nice. Don’t forget this.”

Rem tapped his left chest with his axe handle before heading back into the battlefield.

To hunt down the archer nicknamed after a hawk.

Encrid nodded, hoping he’d get to ask Rem tonight if he had killed that archer.

The spot where Rem had been soon filled with allied and enemy soldiers.

As the gap narrowed, Encrid judged that the battle’s flow wasn’t looking good.

He had experienced this three times already.

The allies were being pushed back.

But there was only one thing he could do.

Survive.

Encrid felt a strange excitement enveloping him.

Soon, he would face that skilled soldier again.

Not long after, it became a reality.

That thrust aimed at his head again.

Instead of dodging, Encrid brought his blade up to meet the incoming sword.

Ting, ting, ting!

Sparks flew in the air.

Encrid locked eyes with the enemy soldier.

Block this?

His eyes seemed to question.

“You’re quite skilled.”

The enemy soldier spoke, thrusting his sword again.

Once, twice, thrice.

The first was blocked by his shield, the second dodged with a roll, the third countered with a swing of his own sword.

Encrid’s blade traced a short arc through the air.

As the enemy soldier pulled his arm back, something struck Encrid’s waist from behind.

Thud!

“Gah!”

He swallowed a scream.

The thrust came again. Encrid deliberately leaned forward, planning to roll to the ground.

The intent was good, but the timing was off.

Thunk.

The blade broke his collarbone, embedding itself in his neck.

It felt like a hot iron rod was searing his flesh and bones.

“Gah!”

The pain was so intense, he couldn’t even scream.

As he tried to grab the blade, the enemy pulled it out smoothly.

The blade must have been meticulously sharpened. It cut cleanly and hurt terribly.

His vision turned white from the pain.

Encrid clenched his teeth and looked back.

A hulking enemy soldier stood there.

Holding a club.

That must have been what struck his waist.

“Mercy.”

The soldier who had killed him three times said, raising his sword vertically and bringing it down.

That was the last thing he saw.

His eyes closed. Darkness seeped in.

Bang, bang, bang.

The sound of a ladle striking a pot echoed again.

“The fifth time.”

Damn it.

He thought he had it this time.

“What’s the fifth time?”

Rem asked from beside him.

“There’s a bug in your boot.”

Encrid spoke as he got up.

He died again, but he had learned something.

It was a lesson he had paid for with gold coins at the training school.

Nothing happens in one go.

So, what should he do?

If it doesn’t work once, try ten times. If it doesn’t work ten times, try a hundred.

Normally, one death would be the end.

Fortunately, Encrid could repeat this countless times.