Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 807

807. He won?

Encred, as always, found it amusing to see those rushing at him. It brought a smile to his face.
Seeing this, Shinar asked without blinking.

“Why are you smiling like Rem?”

Encred immediately responded.

“Why are you suddenly insulting me?”

Ragna, standing next to me, opened his mouth.

“Even if it wasn’t a very pleasant expression, it was excessive.”

Saxony also added a word.

“That’s an insult.”

Even Audin opened his mouth with a laugh.

“Just for a moment, Brother Leader, your true intentions have been revealed. Are you thinking of beating them to death right now?”

Of course not. Encred turned his head to the side and saw Rem harassing the soldiers, then pulling out an axe and burying it.

“Huh? You want to tear them all apart too? I know. I know. I fully understand how you feel. But you have to hold back. If I beat all those bastards to death, who’s going to be the meat shield?”

Rem was there, talking to her subordinate weapon.
The soldier right in front of him, who’d been bruised on his thigh for the sake of posture correction, broke out in a cold sweat.
Were the Mad Knights not crazy because they fought as well as the Berserkers? Why did they just seem like crazy bastards?
It was a daily routine for them, so Lawford and Fel didn’t even turn their heads. In reality, the two were busy fighting each other.
The skill gap was minimal, and they knew each other’s habits well. That’s why the match wasn’t easy.
Fel tried to twist his elbow, trying to twist his opponent’s attack by throwing his sword in an instant, but Lawford was recently relearning the Balaf style of martial arts he’d learned over his shoulder.
Of course, he kept it a secret from Fel. When Fel threw his sword and closed in, Lawford dropped his too. After that, the two rolled around on the ground like a dogfight.
They rolled in the muddy, rain-soaked mud, and they both looked like drenched stray dogs.
They don’t care if they get wet or dirty, and they’re determined to win even if it means letting go of their swords. It’s a determination to do whatever it takes to secure victory.
Their eyes reveal this extraordinary determination. You don’t need any discerning eyes to recognize it. The spirit of the two is palpable.

“It’s grown.”

Seeing that, Prok was once again amazed. She had helped them halfway to where they were, so it was rewarding.
Of course, Luagarne enjoyed seeing Encred’s transformation the most. Therefore, her life was currently filled with renewed happiness every day.

‘Kill the embers.’

It’s a swordsmanship based on insight, experience, and rapid thinking. No, it’s not swordsmanship, but rather a fighting style.
As evidenced by his subduing of Asia earlier, it wasn’t just a swordsmanship skill.

‘The experience of fending off Balrog’s attacks was a source of nourishment.’

Was it luck?
If not, there’s so much I can’t understand. I saw it as based on insight and experience. So, even if insight is true, what about experience?

‘Without having fought countless opponents of Balrog’s level.’

Although she hadn’t personally witnessed the fight, Luagarne knew Encred. He was so different before and after his fight with Balrog. This was the thought that came to her as she studied and discerned the differences.

“Beat me to death? This is sparring. Getting hurt during sparring is inevitable, but I have no intention of doing so.”

Encred spoke, subtly threatening. The soldier standing before him, eager to learn from him, seemed pitiful.
The fact that his legs didn’t tremble was enough to indicate his resilience. His name was Liavan, I think?

‘So, people haven’t changed.’

My skills have improved incredibly.

‘Can a rat defeat a snake by standing in front of it?’

Only by facing a natural enemy can one become skilled. If this isn’t a mystery, then what is?

Gulp gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.

As he pondered, the excited Frock’s cheeks puffed out, then subsided. His nostrils widened, and he even snorted. Part of the reason he was so easily elated was probably the delightful feeling of being drenched in rain. For Frock, the swamp and the rain gave him a warmth akin to a human sitting in front of a fireplace on a cold winter day, peeling a baked potato.
The soldiers watching him frantically watched.
Why was Frock acting like that all of a sudden?
Everyone knew Frock’s habits, but it wasn’t uncommon to see Frock so excited.
And what was that elf?
His appearance was superior to any other elf, but his words shattered expectations.
There were elves among the Royal Guard. They weren’t Kirhais natives, but their characteristically emotionless nature was bound to change. They knew that. But that elf, didn’t seem to be one of them.

“Don’t kill him. He’s pitiful.”

Even now, he’s saying that, but it’s only half-joking. If you think about it, it’s a joke. Half the soldiers here didn’t even understand the fairy’s joke.

“That’s why I said I won’t kill you.”

Encred, hearing those words, sheathed his sword, unsheathed it from his belt, and lifted it in his hand.
The click sounded more murderous than the sound of the sword being drawn. At least, that’s what the soldiers facing him thought.

“I kind of regret saying I would jump in.”

One of the soldiers muttered. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving up.” He said it, but his eyes didn’t. While not blazing, the coldness in his languid eyes clearly indicated a determination to try.

“Leevan, you don’t plan on staying up all night, do you?”

Encred asked.

“Of course, sir.”

The tone was filled with respect and reverence. The only
reason Leavan’s legs didn’t tremble was because he trusted Encred. He wouldn’t kill him. But the pressure was real.
Under pressure, Leavan somehow managed to draw his sword and swing it. His stroke wasn’t elegant, and by any measure, it wasn’t a spectacular strike, but those among the soldiers with discerning eyes nodded inwardly.

I overcame that pressure. I shook it off and finally swung my sword. I must say I’m quite impressed.

As these thoughts crossed the soldiers’ minds, Encred’s mouth opened.

“Have you been playing?”

Encred, speaking alongside the horse, kicked Learvan’s thigh. “Thump!” He stepped onto the ground, then his right leg, transformed into a whip, seemed to slice into his thigh.

Liar!

It sounded like a muscle popping, but of course it wasn’t real.

“Ugh.”

Rearvan couldn’t even scream, his posture collapsing. Still, he didn’t fall. He held on with one right leg. His thigh, where he’d been hit, felt as if it had been severed, losing all feeling below his pelvis. Still, he held on.

“The spirit is not bad.”

That was Encred’s assessment.
Objectively, Learvan’s skills had improved considerably.
However, Encred’s standards were those of the Border Guard standing army. So, if they didn’t run, they’d be stabbed from behind with a sword, forced to run, forced to run across the Fen-Hanil Mountains with a single axe, and often subjected to the beatings of the genius, Ragnar. And if they didn’t lift a boulder heavier than their own body weight every day, they’d be asked, “Brother, are you one to break your promises?”

“next.”

Encred continued his sparring without hesitation. One of them even left an impression. It was the friend whose eyes had become cold.

‘talent.’

The way he swung his sword was ingenious. The child Broomhild immediately came to mind. The child I met in the Fen-Hanil Mountains was also a genius.
This soldier possessed similar talent.
However, he was still far from trained and experienced. It wasn’t hard to guess his condition just by standing before their swords crossed.

‘The type who believes in talent but is lazy about training.’

He is of the Ragnar lineage. Encrid taught him a lesson with sincerity.

“If you rely only on your talent and go all out, you will be caught by the Westerners.”

He tripped him with his foot, extended his fist, and struck him in the jaw. With that single blow, his legs gave out and he collapsed.

“And the spirit is worse than that of Rearban.”

The assessment was cold. I don’t know what he meant by his previous words.
The man vomited everything he had inside onto the floor. He
made a “wow” sound, and yellow liquid flowed from his mouth. Kneeling in the muddy water, he couldn’t even raise his head.

“At this rate, I’ll never be able to beat Rearban again.”

This man, who usually spends his time leisurely, must have let out something that had been inside him for a very long time.

‘This must have happened often to Rearban because of the excessive training.’

Talent doesn’t tell the whole story. The sum of the time and effort put in each day surpasses talent.
Encred himself is proof of this. No, he wanted to be proof.
He’d gotten to where he is today with the help of the boatman, but he still prioritized hard work over talent.

“Take her.”

The man, who had been rolling around in the mud, stared at Encred’s back with clouded eyes.
Next, the fairy pounced, and Encred didn’t spare her any attention.

“If a nimble body is your strength, is that all you need to do?”

His every word, if properly digested by the listener, was as valuable as a thousand gold nuggets.
Of course, Rem’s teachings were no different.

“What can you do if you have no will or spirit? Just roll around.”

Rem’s lips curved even more sharply than Encred’s. It wasn’t hard for the soldiers to picture the pervert taking sadistic pleasure in that face.
They’d been like this for days. And yet, no one had deserted. They were carefully selected and gathered here.
Encred liked that, too.

* * *

The next day, Encred set out at lunchtime to escort Krang. The midday sun had completely dried the previous day’s rain.
It was a hot day, a day when sweat would easily flow.
He wore a dark green cloak tied to his back, a Dawn Forge on his left waist, a broken Fenna on his right, and Balrog’s armor underneath his outer garment.
Regardless of skill, he always carried the best equipment possible, a habit he had since his mercenary days.
But hadn’t he heard there was some unsettling activity?

‘Is this the right time to inspect?’

I had my doubts, but it wasn’t Encred’s concern.
As I was heading toward the inner castle to meet Krang, I heard the captain of the Royal Guard kneel and let out a boiling voice.

“Your Majesty! You must have at least three close-quarters escorts, including Sir Matthew, in place of Sir Asia, and two hundred security forces, to prepare a minimum defense before you can proceed! Your Majesty, your head is not the only thing resting on your shoulders, is it?”

“Isn’t that a bit much?” he thought, but no one around him seemed surprised. Matthew and Marcus were present, but they merely listened.
From this, Encred was able to infer the usual relationship between Krang and the Royal Guard Captain.

‘A relationship without formality.’

Close escort, a group that even crosses the line for the king’s safety.
That’s the shield that protects the king, the Royal Guard.

“I told you it’s okay.”

Krang shook his head indifferently.

“majesty.”

The Royal Guard captain showed no intention of backing down. However, Krang was no pushover when it came to stubbornness, and he enjoyed using his brains more than his opponents.
This meant he was adept at creating situations where his opponents couldn’t refuse or reject him, setting the stage for a blunder.
Krang pointed to Encred, who had just appeared. His extended index finger and the smile on his face were truly confident.

“He won?”

The words that followed darkened the Royal Guard leader’s complexion.
Who in this land could possibly claim to have defeated the mad knight commander?
Even if he were confident in his abilities, he was a knight who had just returned from slaughtering a horde of monsters.
The Royal Guard captain’s mouth snapped shut like a clam.
Though his words were cutting off the context, the gist of them remained the same.
Even if hundreds of soldiers didn’t show up, the mere presence of a knight known as a disaster could replace them.