Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 90: It Was the Right Answer

The 4th platoon leader, newly transferred to the heavy infantry division, cursed under his breath.

‘What a mess.’

This operation had originally been intended as an introductory exercise—a way to adapt to the new unit while participating in a beast hunt.

It wasn’t supposed to escalate like this.

Their mission had been to wipe out a large pack of man-faced wolves, which, while challenging, was manageable.

And heavy infantry units had a reputation for being resource-hungry, so this assignment was also a chance to showcase their efficiency.

Then the harpies appeared.

It was a disaster.

Where the hell did harpies come from?

They’d fortified their positions, called for reinforcements, and prepared for defense—but soldiers had already been killed before backup could arrive.

While their crossbows fired uselessly into the sky, two light infantry soldiers arrived as reinforcements.

‘Are you kidding me?’

The platoon leader was incredulous.

Two light infantrymen, without so much as a hint of fear, stepped straight into the harpies’ attack range.

It was suicide.

The leader didn’t recognize Encrid or Rem, having only recently joined the unit.

He’d heard rumors—stories of a “curse-breaker” and a reckless squad leader—but had dismissed them. Those names weren’t something he had the time or patience to pay attention to.

And now here he was, cursing aloud as the two soldiers seemingly walked into certain death.

“Damn it!”

He swore reflexively, frustration boiling over. There was always tension between heavy infantry and light infantry, but nobody wanted to watch comrades get slaughtered.

Who could bear to see someone’s head ripped apart by a harpy?

Encrid and Rem weren’t supposed to be here alone. They had arrived ahead of the rest of their unit, leaving the archers still on their way.

“Hey, get back—!”

The platoon leader tried to shout a warning, but it was already too late.

A harpy spotted the newcomers and dove at them, its crimson feathers streaking through the air.

There was nothing the leader could do to stop it. With the heavy infantry locked in defensive formation, he could only watch as the harpy descended on the two light infantrymen.

He grimaced, already anticipating the gruesome end.

Just as the harpy’s talons were about to tear into one of them—

*Ching!*

*Shuk!*

A metallic hiss sliced through the air, followed by the sound of flesh tearing.

The platoon leader blinked, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.

The harpy’s massive body blocked his view of the light infantryman—he couldn’t see exactly what had happened.

All he saw was the harpy’s wing splitting in half, the creature’s body crashing to the ground like a skipping stone.

It tumbled across the dirt, its once-proud feathers now smeared with blood and mud.

*“Kieeeeek!”*

The harpy thrashed on the ground, writhing in agony.

The platoon leader could only gape in disbelief.

What the hell just happened?

“…Huh?”

He scanned the scene, trying to make sense of it.

‘The harpy swooped down… and he *cut it down*?’

How was that even possible?

It was the kind of stunt that only someone insane would attempt.

The slightest mistake—a misjudged angle, a faltering swing—and the harpy’s talons would have torn him apart.

Who in their right mind would do something so reckless?

Even among the infamous “Butchers of the Outskirts,” only a handful could pull off such a feat.

*Kreeee!*

Two more harpies dived toward the ground.

Their talons sliced through the air, aimed straight at the two soldiers below.

The platoon leader watched in stunned silence as Encrid and Rem responded to the attack.

It was surreal—almost incomprehensible.

Rem twisted his body, narrowly dodging the first harpy’s claws, and swung his axe in a perfect arc.

*Thwack!*

The harpy’s skull split open like a ripe fruit, and its lifeless body crashed to the ground, leaving a long smear of blood in its wake.

The other soldier—the one with the sword—moved just as fluidly.

Encrid waited for the second harpy to dive, timing his strike with precision. His blade flashed through the air, as if the harpy had willingly flown into it.

It was no coincidence—he had predicted the creature’s movement perfectly.

*Thump!*

This time, the strike was slightly off-target, hitting the harpy in the chest instead of the head.

But it didn’t matter.

The blade cleaved through the creature’s body, sending it tumbling to the ground in a heap of broken feathers and shattered bones.

The harpy’s limp form skidded across the dirt, its blood pooling beneath it.

The platoon leader stared in disbelief at the two soldiers.

Within moments of their arrival, three harpies were dead.

They had killed more enemies in mere seconds than the entire company had managed so far.

‘Are they really just soldiers?’

The platoon leader struggled to reconcile what he had seen.

Could these two be among the elite “Butchers of the Outskirts” after all?

Before he could dwell on the thought, he noticed movement in the distance.

More soldiers were arriving—armed with throwing weapons, longbows, and crossbows.

These newcomers wore cloaks adorned with eagle emblems.

The real reinforcements had finally arrived—the Border Guard.

Among them was Torres, a platoon leader Encrid knew well from previous missions.

Torres surveyed the scene, taking note of the two dead harpies lying at Encrid’s feet.

‘His skills… have improved.’

Torres had seen Encrid fight before, but this was on a different level.

Even Torres, an experienced warrior, wouldn’t have dared attempt such feats—not even once, let alone twice in a row.

‘Luck, maybe?’

It was the same thought that crossed the mind of the heavy infantry platoon leader.

At that moment, a third harpy dived toward Encrid from above.

Torres’s eyes flicked upward, and he shouted a warning.

“Hey! Look out above!”

—

What could you even call this?

Encrid didn’t hesitate.

He connected the dots in his mind—the path, the trajectory, the timing.

He split time and swung his sword according to his instincts.

As a result, he severed the first harpy’s wing.

“Phew.”

Beside him, Rem whistled. The sharp resistance left in his grasp conveyed the hefty weight of the attacking harpy.

It was worth cutting.

There was no issue. He raised his sword again. Another harpy swooped in, and this time, he slashed it straight across the center of its chest, letting go of his sword in the process.

Holding on would have torn his grip apart.

It was the right call.

A well-timed strike that connected the dots and carried the weight of his swing.

The result: the death of the monster.

As Encrid bent down to swing his sword, the harpy’s talons grazed the air above his head.

The sharp whoosh of air was unsettling, but it didn’t feel dangerous.

‘Just dodge, and that’s it.’

It was a simple attack pattern.

Dodge, slash, thrust. This was the application of swordsmanship.

He calmly stepped onto the bouncing chest of the slain harpy, placing his foot where a human’s collarbone would be, and pulled out his sword.

“Skreee!”

Its tenacious vitality persisted. Although its chest was half split and its innards spilled out, the creature still blinked its eyes.

It was still alive.

Though he was focused on the harpy he had just cut down, Encrid’s senses were attuned to his surroundings, especially the harpy diving down from above.

Even without looking, he felt the ripples in the air.

His senses were sharper than ever.

“Hey!”

He heard a shout, but he had already moved.

He stabbed the dying harpy’s wing with the tip of his sword and pushed with all his strength.

Crunch!

The strain spread through both of his arms, his waist, and his thighs.

He hoisted the dying harpy upward.

Thud!

The incoming harpy collided with it and was sent sprawling.

After blocking the harpy with another harpy, Encrid rolled to the side, dispersing the force with a flowing motion.

It was a deliberate and calculated movement to absorb the remaining impact.

The moment he rolled to his feet, he leapt toward the fallen harpy’s head and struck with his sword.

With a crack, the harpy’s head split open under the blow, like chopping firewood.

That made four.

Rem had taken down one, and Encrid had slain three.

The first harpy that fell had already been shot with a quarrel by the nearby soldiers.

One by one, the harpies flapping their wings above began to retreat. Harpies never fought losing battles.

As the creatures fled, Encrid let his arms hang loosely and swallowed his frustration.

‘Just a few more.’

He wanted to keep fighting. He needed more experience. He was still in the process of mastering and reinforcing what he had learned.

He needed more battles to fully absorb what he had gained in the sewer.

“Feeling good?”

Rem chuckled next to him. The keen barbarian seemed to have already picked up on Encrid’s state of mind.

“People might think you’re crazy, but at this level, it’s safe to say your skills are exceptional. But seriously, it’s fascinating. I figured you needed real combat, but how did it happen all in one day?”

Though he wasn’t prying too deeply, Rem expressed his curiosity. It was only natural—who could develop so dramatically with such poor talent in just one day?

Encrid gave his usual excuse.

“I got lucky.”

Rem knew that luck alone couldn’t foster such skill. But he didn’t plan to press the issue.

Why would he?

It was fun seeing this guy so excited, swinging his sword.

“There was a time I barely survived being chased by harpies,” Encrid muttered.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t a statement loaded with emotion or meaning—just a fact.

Encrid briefly recalled the companions he had lost back then and let the memory go.

‘This isn’t exactly revenge.’

But at least there was some satisfaction in killing the harpy swarm. The lingering frustration, however, was unavoidable.

“Hey, you two, your unit, wait, but…”

The commander, who had been holding the defensive formation like a turtle shell, approached, looking bewildered.

“I’m Encrid, commander of the 4th Squad, 4th Platoon, 4th Company.”

Encrid responded with a military salute.

“A squad commander? Not part of the border guard?”

Nope.

“The border guard is over here.”

A familiar face, Torres, approached, raising a hand in greeting.

Even as he spoke, his gaze remained locked on Encrid, scanning him from head to toe.

He was dying to ask what the hell had happened.

How had he improved so much?

“We came to provide support, but…”

They hadn’t even fired a single arrow.

What in the world just happened?

Soon, the commander of the heavy infantry platoon and Torres exchanged greetings and began to assess the situation.

As Encrid listened to their conversation, he suddenly asked a question that was quite important to him.

“Is it over?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I’m asking if the monster subjugation is over.”

What was this? Why was he asking that?

Two light infantry soldiers had just killed four harpies and saved a heavy infantry platoon. It might not be an extraordinary achievement, but it was certainly worthy of recognition.

Yet, one of them was seriously asking if this was the end, while the other—who looked like a foreigner—was chuckling beside him.

What kind of crazy pair was this?

The commander thought for a moment, then answered.

“The original mission was to exterminate the pack of gnolls, so no, it’s not over.”

The commander hadn’t forgotten the mission objective. The gnolls had gathered near the border guard’s jurisdiction, blocking trade routes and disrupting merchants.

That’s why they were out here in the first place.

While the gnolls hadn’t reached the main trade road outside the city walls, the occasional sighting of one or two nearby suggested that trouble was brewing.

The mission was to eliminate the surrounding monsters and beasts to ensure the city’s safety.

“I’d like to join,” Encrid said.

The commander pondered.

‘Does he just want to keep fighting? He looks like he’s itching for it. Am I seeing things?’

No, he wasn’t seeing things.

What he saw was exactly right.