Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 89: Reflecting on the Past Without Regret

“Form up!”

The commander’s voice rang out.

Ahead of them were eight wolf-beasts, snarling as they approached.

Beasts and monsters were always a threat, especially in a city with bustling trade routes like this one. The Border Guard was diligent in keeping the surrounding areas clear.

“Why are they always more aggressive in winter?”

One soldier grumbled, raising his spear. To Encrid, it sounded like the soldier was trying to ease his nerves with idle chatter.

The squad of twenty soldiers formed a tight phalanx, bracing their spears against the approaching creatures.

When it came to beasts, standard protocol was always to fight them with superior numbers.

Their lieutenant adhered strictly to this doctrine.

And Encrid found that… frustrating.

‘This is a first.’

What he longed for was real combat—something that practice drills could never provide.

He craved the clarity that came from facing death, the kind of fight that forced you to organize everything you had learned into a single, decisive moment.

Instead, he was stuck poking at beasts with a spear. This wouldn’t help him. In fact, it was starting to bore him.

He knew he should have felt at least some fear when facing these beasts. But instead, he felt restless.

At his side, Rem grinned and chuckled.

“Looks like someone’s frustrated.”

Normally, Encrid would have told Rem to quit talking and focus on stabbing the beasts. But the irritation got the better of him.

“Is it that obvious?”

“You’re a square peg in a round hole now, Captain.”

Rem’s laugh was full of mischief, and he added one more jab:

“Didn’t you know there’s only a fine line between greatness and insanity?”

Encrid shook his head. No, he hadn’t known that.

What if he jumped straight into the pack of beasts right now?

With Rem covering his back, they could end this far more quickly than by poking one beast at a time with spears.

At this rate, how long would it take to clear all the beasts and monsters in the area?

It felt like a waste of time.

Though his body knew exactly what to do, smoothly moving within the phalanx, frustration gnawed at him.

Beside him, Rem chuckled again. The sound was starting to feel like a nudge, daring him to break formation.

Why had Rem tagged along if he was just going to stir trouble?

Encrid thrust his spear forward. The tip grazed the paw of an advancing wolf-beast.

*Growl!*

The creature bared its fangs in response, but before Encrid could follow up, the lieutenant speared toward its head. The beast pulled back just in time to avoid the blow.

With nothing else to do, Encrid tried to distract himself from the urge to leap into the fray and draw his sword.

His thoughts wandered to Esther—the black panther who had returned to him after his fight with the mad mage.

She had been utterly exhausted, likely from hunting sewer rats. She’d smelled foul, as though she’d spent hours lurking in the sewers.

He had felt sorry for her and softened some dried meat in water, feeding it to her piece by piece. Esther had devoured it without hesitation.

‘What the hell are you up to, really?’

*Snarl!*

His thoughts shattered as a wolf-beast lunged into range.

Encrid thrust his spear toward the creature’s head, slicing across its hide and drawing blood.

“Hold your ground!”

The lieutenant’s voice echoed across the line.

The phalanx tightened its formation, maintaining the perfect distance from the beasts with calculated spear thrusts.

The beasts, wounded but cautious, withdrew momentarily.

This was the right way to do it.

This was the textbook approach.

But it still grated on Encrid’s nerves.

Ahead of him, the lieutenant led with precision, a disciplined figure in perfect control.

He knew the man was either from the second or third company—he couldn’t recall which.

But none of that helped with the growing frustration.

Encrid’s hands moved automatically, stabbing and withdrawing his spear. But it felt awkward—like wearing clothes that didn’t fit.

Spears were never his weapon of choice.

If he had trained primarily with spears instead of swords, he doubted he’d have become half as proficient.

Ragna had once said, “The weapon you’re most comfortable with will always feel different from the rest.”

Most knights were encouraged to train with a variety of weapons, and Encrid had learned the basics of many.

But only the sword had ever felt right in his hands.

*The sword.*

From the moment he first held one, it had felt like meeting an old friend.

He remembered the joy, the anticipation—the warmth of the steel resting in his grip, the thrill of his heart pounding in time with each swing.

‘Damn it, I want to use my sword.’

He wanted to relive the lessons learned in the mage’s lair, to feel that clarity again.

But not with a spear. He needed his sword.

“I’ll grant your wish.”

Before Encrid could react, Rem shot forward, laughing as he charged toward the beasts.

“This is gonna take all day!”

Rem’s voice was filled with excitement, and each step sent dirt flying beneath his feet. He moved like a force of nature, as wild as the beasts themselves.

“That madman!”

The lieutenant bellowed in fury.

Breaking formation was reckless—putting both himself and the other soldiers at risk.

But Encrid knew what Rem was thinking.

‘If we kill them all, the problem’s solved.’

He couldn’t hold back anymore. The desire to fight, to test himself, was overwhelming.

Shutting off his rational thoughts, he followed his instincts.

Encrid threw his spear aside, planting his feet and launching himself forward.

“Now you too?!”

The lieutenant’s shout faded behind him.

Rem’s impulsiveness was something the lieutenant could deal with. But Encrid? That was another matter entirely.

“Having fun?” Rem called back with a grin as he swung both axes.

The sharp edges of his axes carved through the air in wide arcs, ending in devastating blows.

One axe split a wolf-beast’s skull, while the other cleaved through the jaw of another that tried to bite his arm.

Each swing was as swift and deadly as an executioner’s blade.

“Yeah, a little.”

Encrid drew his sword. As the first beast lunged at him, he swung in a wide horizontal slash, severing its foreleg.

*Yelp!*

The beast’s cry sounded pitifully like that of a wounded dog.

Without missing a beat, Encrid reversed his grip and brought the sword down vertically, cleaving through its head.

*Thud!*

He yanked the sword free just in time to slam the hilt into the skull of another wolf charging from the side.

*Wham!*

The beast tumbled across the ground, stunned.

Only eight of them.

‘When did eight beasts become just “only”?’ he wondered briefly.

Regardless, they posed no real threat.

Rem’s axes continued their deadly dance, while Encrid’s sword cut down everything in his path.

Though the arming sword lacked the heft of his longsword, it was still serviceable.

He regretted that Ragna hadn’t been able to join them.

Of the eight beasts, one had been killed by the phalanx, four by Rem’s axes, and three by Encrid’s sword.

It was a flawless display of skill.

One of the soldiers muttered in awe, “Damn… they fight like demons.”

The lieutenant should have reprimanded them—should have, but didn’t.

‘How can I criticize them when they fight like that?’

The lieutenant considered it carefully. The textbook strategy was to maintain formation. But when two soldiers possessed such exceptional combat skills, it would be foolish not to make use of them.

In the end, he decided against scolding them and instead prioritized efficiency.

That decision boded well for both Encrid and Rem.

By the book, Rem and Encrid were guilty of insubordination.

Yet, the lieutenant respected Encrid’s ability—his mere presence had proven valuable.

The officer had crossed paths with him before, back when Encrid hadn’t seemed like much. When had he become this skilled?

Had he improved overnight, as the rumors suggested?

The lieutenant couldn’t say for sure. All he knew was that results mattered most.

‘He’s beyond the rank of a normal soldier.’

He would believe it if someone said Encrid was one of the Border Guard’s elite—those infamous “Butchers of the Outskirts,” known for fighting solo without the need for formations.

“You two.”

Instead of scolding them, the lieutenant assigned them a new task.

“If you want to fight, go where the real trouble is.”

“Oh?”

Standing among the fallen beasts, Encrid, the beast-slaying soldier, nodded calmly.

The other soldiers cheered quietly.

The job here was done, and the squad could finally move on to assist elsewhere. For a brief moment, they could rest.

No one enjoyed gambling with their lives against beasts unless they were either exceptional—or insane.

“Fall back! We’re returning to the city to regroup,” the lieutenant ordered, leading the soldiers away from the battlefield.

Encrid cast a glance at Rem, who was wiping the beast blood off his axes.

Rem grinned.

“Do I owe you one?”

“Nope.”

Though Encrid said otherwise, the fight had left him satisfied.

Yet something still burned within him.

‘It’s not enough.’

The thirst wasn’t quenched by a mere handful of beasts. Training could never compare to real combat, and he felt the fire inside him flare hotter.

“Let’s go. There’s more waiting for us,” Rem said with a chuckle.

As the soldiers fell back, one of them playfully bumped Encrid’s chest with his fist.

“Guess we’ll head back first, thanks to you.”

The soldier’s face was familiar.

Encrid remembered—he was one of the men at the dice table the first time today had repeated.

The soldier pressed a cloth-wrapped bundle of jerky into Encrid’s hand.

“Try it. You’ll love it.”

With a grin, the soldier turned and rejoined the others.

Several other soldiers nodded in quiet approval.

A competent soldier was always appreciated, and Encrid’s good-natured demeanor hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Rem, on the other hand, received no such warm treatment.

His rough personality and reputation as a troublemaker kept others at a distance.

He was also an outsider—one of the few barbarians in the unit. His habit of picking fights when bored was well-known.

“Fought the same fight, but looks like they treat you better,” Rem grumbled. “Is this what they call discrimination?”

“Karma, probably.”

Encrid tore the jerky in half and handed a piece to Rem.

When he took a bite, he noticed something unexpected.

‘This is different.’

The jerky was delicious—soft and flavorful, with just the right balance of seasoning. It carried a sweet aftertaste, making it impossible not to savor.

“What the hell? Why’s this so good?”

“No idea. We should ask for more later.”

Curiosity about the recipe briefly crossed his mind.

Encrid adjusted the gloves on his hands.

The thick, rugged leather gloves—taken from the mad mage’s lair—fit perfectly, wrapping securely around his fingers.

He’d noticed the difference when striking wolves earlier. The gloves had absorbed far more impact than he’d expected.

It was clear that these weren’t ordinary gloves.

Whatever twisted things the mage had done, it didn’t change the fact that the items themselves were useful.

The reinforced leather, stitched layer upon layer, made the gloves excellent substitutes for gauntlets—not only protective but also perfect for throwing punches.

Beneath his gambeson, the enchanted leather armor had proven its worth as well.

It had saved him from the mage’s magic. What Encrid had initially thought was just sturdy armor had turned out to be far more valuable.

Armed with good gear and a heart full of determination, Encrid grinned.

“Let’s move.”

Following the lieutenant’s orders, Encrid and Rem set off for their next mission.

Half a day’s journey south of the city, they reached their destination—a fortified position where other troops had gathered.

“So this is the place?”

“Looks like it.”

The instructions they had received were vague, but the scale of the operation was clear.

A full encampment had been established. Such preparations were rare, only undertaken when dealing with something serious—like a large-scale hunt for monsters or beasts.

And things were already in motion.

As they approached, Encrid caught sight of something circling in the sky.

“Looks like we’re just in time.”

Rem bounded forward with a grin, keeping pace with Encrid.

Suddenly, a shrill cry pierced the air, sending a chill down their spines.

*Kreeee!*

Above them, a monstrous creature made its presence known.

Below, wounded soldiers lay scattered across the field—some missing eyes, others with torn limbs.

“My eyes! My eyes!”

“Arghhh!”

“Damn it! Kill it! Kill it!”

Crossbowmen fired bolt after bolt into the sky.

*Thunk-thunk-thunk!*

But the bolts missed their mark, slicing through empty air.

*Kaaaah!*

The creature’s screech reverberated through the battlefield, a sound so unsettling it made their ears ache.

This was a war zone—against beasts and monsters alike.

Below the flying creature, squads of heavily armored soldiers formed tight lines. The glint of chainmail revealed them as the first company—veterans clad in heavy armor.

“Hold your ground!”

The commander’s shout echoed across the field.

The creature circling above was a harpy—a monster with the upper body of a woman, wings instead of arms, and the lower body of an eagle.

Its crimson feathers shimmered in the sunlight, and its grotesque chest heaved with each screech.

Though it resembled a woman, there was nothing alluring about it—only revulsion.

As Encrid stared up at the harpy, memories flooded back.

He remembered a time when he had been forced to turn away from the battlefield, leaving fallen comrades behind.

The appearance of a harpy back then had signaled disaster—his comrades had fought desperately, but in the end, they could do nothing but flee.

It had been a bitter memory.

Though they hadn’t been close friends, he had lost over a dozen comrades that day.

*Kreee!*

The harpy’s cry shook their nerves, a sound that could unhinge the mind.

More than five harpies soared above, each darting unpredictably through the sky.

The crossbowmen kept firing, but as Encrid had already seen, they had little chance of hitting their targets.

Just as they reached the battlefield, one of the harpies dove toward them.

“Looks like things are about to get interesting. You good?” Rem asked casually.

In the same breath, the harpy plummeted toward them, talons outstretched.

*Whoosh!*

The air whistled as the creature dove, its talons sharp enough to tear through steel. If all it did was gouge out an eye, that would be considered lucky.

Otherwise, it could easily rip a head clean off.

The harpy’s approach stirred old memories in Encrid’s mind—but only briefly.

He had learned long ago not to dwell on the past or regret what was done.

Instead, he focused all his strength on moving forward. That was how he lived.

*Shing!*

He drew his sword.

Time seemed to slow around him as his instincts took over. His senses sharpened, and the path of the falling harpy became clear in his mind.

With the courage of a beast’s heart, Encrid planted his feet and swung his sword in sync with the harpy’s descent.

The next moment, his blade moved—decisive, swift, and deadly.