Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 51: Assumptions Can Kill (2)
“Looks like you’re lucky.”
A soldier watching the duel commented. He was a fellow soldier who used to be a mercenary, just like the others. In fact, he was one of those who had grumbled about Encrid during the previous award ceremony.
With a frown, he stepped forward.
“Not tired yet, are you? How about another round?”
To be promoted, one needed to be acknowledged by three intermediate-level soldiers or defeat them in combat. Just fighting one wasn’t enough.
“Uh, Squad Leader?”
Big Eyes glanced nervously at the man growling. The atmosphere felt intense.
Encrid looked at the fallen soldier with a confused expression. *Is this right?*
All he did was trip the guy once, and the fight was over just like that.
The fallen soldier got up, clutching his wrist.
“Lucky bastard.”
The soldier muttered while retreating. Tears glistened in his eyes from the pain.
*Well, I guess it would hurt.*
Still, it didn’t seem like the kind of pain that would make someone cry.
Encrid shifted his gaze to his second opponent, assuming a stance as he looked at him.
“Not tired.”
“Good. This time, I’ll be your opponent.”
Encrid briefly reviewed the previous fight in his mind.
*I got lucky.*
The soldier had been too defenseless when he fell. He hadn’t thought to protect his body. It seemed like he never expected to be taken down at all.
*Why?*
The reason for his carelessness was that he underestimated Encrid. But was it possible for the outcome to be decided just by a light push?
*Does that make sense?*
*No matter. I’ll just do it again.*
The opponent pulled out a spear.
In the infantry battalion stationed at the Border Guard, there were two major types of soldiers: light infantry and heavy infantry. One of the hallmarks of the heavy infantry was that they wielded long spears.
They were well-trained soldiers raised with significant investment from the Kingdom of Naurilia. Compared to the light infantry, even intermediate-level soldiers were more thoroughly trained and skilled.
The soldier aimed his personal combat spear and began twirling its tip. Encrid didn’t let his eyes get distracted by the movement.
“When fighting, you need to keep your eyes on your opponent’s entire body.”
That was Ragna’s teaching, and Encrid followed it diligently.
*Swish.*
The spear darted toward Encrid’s side, as swift as a hawk diving for its prey.
*Too slow.*
Compared to the spear-thrusting maniac he met during the first iteration of this day, it was slow. The trajectory was clearly visible and easy to avoid.
Encrid shifted his body, using his left foot as the pivot, quickly twisting to avoid the spear. Not only did he dodge it, but he also trapped the spear under his arm.
The moment the spear got trapped, the soldier tried to pull it back.
Matching the pull, Encrid dashed forward.
“Huh!”
The soldier had expected Encrid to hold his ground, but when he loosened his grip and rushed in along with the spear, the soldier gasped in shock.
Startled, the soldier raised his left arm to block, but Encrid feigned a thrust at his eyes, then hooked his leg around the soldier’s shin. With his right foot hooked around the opponent’s leg, Encrid thrust forward with his shoulder, driving it into the soldier’s chest.
*Thud.*
A heavy sound followed as the soldier toppled over with a solid crash.
Encrid didn’t even need to raise his sword.
Looking down from above, he gazed at the fallen heavy infantryman, a soldier from the 1st Platoon of the 1st Company.
From below, the soldier looked up at Encrid. To his eyes, the troublesome squad leader’s body seemed twice as large as when they first met. This psychological pressure came from being completely overpowered.
*Damn it.*
The soldier, though knocked breathless, cursed the troublemaker of a squad leader who’d beaten him. Of course, he was cursing himself just as much.
*Who said this guy was the weakest?*
Encrid looked down at him and asked, “More?”
“No, no, let’s stop here.”
The second intermediate soldier backed down, and it was time for the third to step up.
“Idiots.”
One of the soldiers watching Encrid’s promotion trial muttered under his breath. It was Andrew, the same Andrew who had been on the reconnaissance mission with Encrid.
Andrew had thought that Encrid had already surpassed the intermediate level back then, but now he was fighting even better.
Something had clearly changed in his swordsmanship. It had become more refined.
Andrew praised himself for betting all his *krona* on Encrid, and he started to wonder who would win if they fought now. He had also spent his time diligently training.
Mack, standing beside him, looked at Andrew and said, “What the hell happened to that guy?”
“Why?”
“He’s improved too much.”
“How much?”
Mack shook his head after seeing Andrew’s expression.
“He’s not the same as before.”
After their reconnaissance mission, Mack had told Andrew that if he ever wanted to truly challenge the troublemaker squad leader, he’d need to harden his resolve and gain more experience.
But now he had to take those words back.
“If you fought him now, it’d be tough. Even I would struggle.”
Mack was skilled enough to spar with Andrew, a top-tier swordsman, so for him to say it would be difficult meant a lot.
Andrew nodded. *This is how it should be.*
After all, Encrid was the man who had taken him down with one blow. He was also the first person Andrew had ever instinctively wanted to follow.
Meanwhile, Vengeance had also been watching the duel.
He had just finished his shift and was on his way back when he noticed the commotion at the training grounds, where the soft soil of the sparring ring was being kicked up.
“What’s going on?”
One of his subordinates explained the situation. Vengeance, with his spear slung at his side and his helmet hooked onto the spear’s tip, watched the sparring match.
Encrid had fought twice and had brought down both opponents. It sounded simple when described, but anyone with an eye for it could see the truth.
*If that’s luck…*
Then Lady Luck must have reincarnated as a man.
The third opponent hesitated to step up.
Krys finally realized that his squad leader fought far better than he’d expected. His instincts were sharp, and he knew how to read the situation.
So Krys made the next move himself, pointing out the third opponent.
“Hey, 2nd Platoon, right? How about a round?”
Krys had a gambler’s flair for taking risks. If he didn’t have anything to bet on, fine. But if he had even the slightest chance, he’d provoke his opponent, drawing them into the game.
“Me?”
The crowd of onlookers had grown considerably. Getting beaten down in front of so many people wasn’t exactly an appealing prospect.
“Who else would I be talking to? You sure seemed confident earlier, calling us all sorts of names.”
Krys smirked, mocking the man.
At this point, there was no way for the guy to back down.
“Spit. Fine, I’ll do it.”
The crude-mouthed soldier spat on the ground and stepped forward, glaring at Encrid. But Encrid had just finished reviewing his second fight.
*I’ve been making things too hard on myself.*
The opponent was too easy. Rem and the other squad members had always complained about how terrible the ranking system was.
“Just because they’re all called intermediate soldiers, doesn’t mean they’re all at the same level. Maybe the upper-level guys are better, but even then, the skill gaps are huge. And in a life-or-death fight, do you really think it’s always about skill? There are plenty of people who, despite being less skilled, manage to kill their opponents by using their heads.”
That was Rem’s opinion. But to be acknowledged here, Encrid had to rise through the ranks.
*Unless you rise above the ranking system itself.*
Those above the system.
The owners of the red cloaks.
The Border Guard was home to two battalions. They took turns being deployed to the Green Pearl, a military outpost, which meant that typically, one battalion and its reserves were stationed in the city.
The battalion that Encrid belonged to, the 1st Army, was currently stationed in the city. Meanwhile, half of the 2nd Army was out in the Green Pearl Plains, maintaining defenses even in times of relative peace.
Every year, the two battalions took turns defending through the winter—that was the role of the Border Guard’s standing forces.
In a city with fewer than ten thousand people, there were two infantry battalions, a royal detachment, and members of the Red Cloak Knights stationed there.
This deployment of resources was possible because the Border Guard was part of the kingdom’s direct dominion.
In the past, when relations with Azpen were good, the Border Guard had been a trading city that dealt in a variety of goods, including spices.
But after Azpen began its war of invasion, the city transformed into a military and fortress town. The once low walls were raised higher, and watchtowers were built.
The three watchtowers symbolized that Naurilia was keeping a close eye on Azpen.
With such a military presence, most of the troops stationed here were highly skilled.
A border town filled with battle-hardened soldiers—that was the strength of the Border Guard.
Therefore, the soldiers standing before him should have been just as skilled.
When this battle began, that’s what Encrid had expected—that his opponents would be more than a match for him.
“You were daydreaming, weren’t you?”
The soldier asked.
“No.”
Encrid’s heart jumped, but he quickly shook his head.
Never underestimate your opponent.
That was a lesson taught by countless swordsmanship instructors.
To honor that lesson, he even pondered the city’s transformation into a strategic fortress.
*Don’t underestimate anyone.* Once, that advice hadn’t meant much to him.
*Who could I ever look down on?*
But now, he had to remind himself of it to stay focused.
He didn’t feel like laughing. He just felt satisfied.
It was a thrill that had nothing to do with the joy of growth.
Proving his skills and showing them off—that was what brought Encrid joy.
“What’s so funny?”
His opponent asked again. Encrid realized he had a faint smile on his face.
“Fighting is fun.”
“You’re insane.”
His opponent steadied his breath and charged, swinging his sword vertically. Encrid tracked the sword’s path with his eyes as he moved.
Drawing power from his planted foot, he gathered it through his knee, then his waist. With that force, he swung his sword and struck his opponent’s blade.
*Clang!*
A crisp sound of steel rang out.
His opponent’s chest was wide open. Encrid pretended to thrust his sword, forcing the opponent to draw his arm back defensively.
Encrid didn’t actually follow through with the thrust. Instead, he lifted his sword upward while closing the gap between them.
Locking eyes with his surprised opponent, Encrid pressed their blades together, then stepped forward, hooking his left foot behind the opponent’s heel. He pushed forward, putting his weight behind the sword.
His opponent barely managed to pull his sword in front of his chest to defend.
When the swords were locked together, there was no room for a proper attack. The soldier had no defense against what came next.
*Thud.*
Tripped by his Achilles tendon, the soldier fell flat on his backside, unable to resist.
Encrid placed the tip of his sword against the soldier’s head.
It had all happened in an instant.
And with these three fights, Encrid had truly demonstrated his skill.
The fallen soldier glanced upward, staring at the sword resting above his head.
“I’ve lost.”
The soldier admitted.
In Naurilia, strength had always been revered. There was a reason it was called the land of knights.
Andrew and Mack.
Vengeance, who had been watching from the back.
The Company Captain, who had been observing from a distance.
Rem, Ragna, and the rest of the troublemaker squad.
Even the soldiers who had once insulted Encrid behind his back.
None of them said a word.
The sunlight angled down, reflecting off the blade and casting a glow on half of Encrid’s face.
As the light soaked into the scene, with long shadows stretching beneath the cold air, the mist rising from Encrid’s shoulders seemed to create a strange vision.
It was as if they were watching Encrid in the middle of the battlefield, tearing through a flag, a symbol of the cursed magic, and emerging victorious.
The fact they had all denied was now becoming a reality in their minds.
The mist of slaughter, the one who had broken the spell, had saved them all.
“I never would have thought…”
Someone muttered. That was their way of acknowledging it.
When they hadn’t known his abilities, they could criticize him. But now, they couldn’t.
Even the fool who had been acting out earlier couldn’t deny it anymore.
The second soldier who had lost to Encrid spoke up.
“I ran my mouth off. I apologize.”
Encrid simply nodded in acknowledgment. After all, the standing army of the Border Guard was full of people like this.
A rough unit that couldn’t tolerate anyone unworthy standing before them.
That was the sword of the frontier—the army of the Border Guard.
But if you proved yourself with skill, they would respect you immediately.
Encrid had proven himself by overpowering the intermediate soldiers.
“Spellbreaker.”
Someone muttered the word. There was no cheering. It wasn’t that kind of atmosphere. But it seemed like the nickname might stick.
*Spellbreaker? That’s a bit much.*
Encrid thought to himself. After a moment of deliberation, he spoke.
“Seems like it’s time to face the advanced soldiers.”
He had taken down three intermediate soldiers with just one trip each.
So, what was left now?
What else could be left?
The advanced soldiers, of course.
Was he really thinking of fighting again?
Krys widened his already big eyes in disbelief. His squad leader was truly unstoppable.
Should they just continue and start another fight?
As they were pondering that thought, someone whistled.
A soldier stepped forward, smiling faintly.
“Interesting.”
The soldier was wearing an eagle insignia on his shoulder. It signified that he was part of the Royal Frontier Defense Forces, the king’s direct unit stationed at the border.
They were as famous as the Grey Dogs, the independent company from Azpen.
Known as the Frontier Slaughterers, this was a brutal and fierce unit, even among the savage ranks of the Border Guard.
Their total number was two hundred, but as a royal unit, every single one of them was at least an advanced soldier.
The one who stepped forward was one of them.