Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 856

856. Rainwater’s Illegitimate Child

“It’s raining.”

Cyprus took what Inggis said.

“Yeah, he’s coming.”

Was this a good thing? Judging by the current situation, it was a good thing.
At least the griffons weren’t flying.
Cypress looked not at the griffon riders, but at the mass of drowned men rising from the ground.
Rainy days were the worst on the Southern Front.
Many soldiers would curse the moment they woke up and saw the falling rain.

‘Fatigue is building up.’

Not only himself, but all the soldiers stationed on the front lines would feel the same.
Instead of the fireballs, icicle spears, and rocks hurled by the gryphon riders, the rainwater that fell met the ground, conceiving and giving birth to the drowned.
Now, the problem wasn’t gryphons, but the evil spirits and drowned men appearing within the camp, the ghouls lurking outside, and the gnomes that concealed their presence.

‘There are too many monsters.’

While they weren’t a threat to Cyprus or the Knights Templar, they were a definite threat to the soldiers.
Nothing was easy. If the southern front were a human being, it would be no different from a wounded and sick person everywhere.

Should I ask the goddess of fate?

Is this really going to happen? Is this for real?
Cyprus didn’t ask the heavens. Instead, he simply engraved a new vow in his heart.

“It’s full of ominous energy.”

Inggis says it again.

“The soldiers will sense it too. These are elite troops, battle-tested. It’s impossible not to sense this ominous air. So don’t try to force morale.”

Inggis blinked. Isn’t it especially necessary to step up and encourage the soldiers in times like these? If they’re telling you not to do something obvious, there must be a reason.
What if you don’t know the answer? Just ask. Inggis opened her mouth.

“What should I do in this situation?”

He had recently become a knight. Regardless of his skills, he was still immature in leading a unit. From Cypress’s perspective, that was the case. He acknowledged this, and whenever he encountered something he didn’t understand, he asked his master, just like he did now.
Asking questions was a good thing. It showed he wasn’t consumed by omnipotence, wasn’t swayed by arrogance, and hadn’t lost his curiosity.

“Waiting for an opportunity.”

Master Cypress stroked his wet, clammy beard and said:

“Wait?”

Inggis added a hint, and Cypress raised the hand he had been stroking his beard with, making a motion to thrust forward.

“If you can’t see a gap, create one.”

There’s no need to force encouragement. What’s needed is a feat like decapitating the enemy.
Lichenstein’s commander doesn’t fight his allies. He simply sends up the monsters that emerge from the demonic realm and deploys the Griffon Riders.
If we had engaged in an all-out war, we wouldn’t be suffering like we are now.
What the southern front needs now is a battle.
If Cypress, Inggis, or one of the Third Knights could decapitate the enemy commander, the morale of the unit would naturally recover.

‘Or maybe it would be nice to show some similar performance.’

As the power of the sacred relics faded, a disturbing atmosphere emerged within the camp, threatening to manifest as demons.
And now, morale is at rock bottom.

‘Is this a fight we’re losing before we even start?’

I’ve been hit.
I wonder what the face of the guy who’s been scheming in the South looks like. I didn’t know it before, but now I know.

‘It’s a strategy prepared like stacking stones one by one.’

You’ve encountered similar situations before. What did you do each time?

‘I’ll just get through it with my strength.’

If you lack the brains, just solve it with brute force. Cyprus collected his thoughts and chewed over his newly engraved vow.

‘I will be the first to die among the knights.’

Oaths are the foundation of a knight’s will. He was a guardian deity who protected the front lines by piling up his oaths. At least, that’s how it seemed to the soldiers and Inggis.

“Yes, Master.”

Inggis bowed his head and answered. Today, too, he engraved the Master’s teachings in his heart.
Many of Cypress’s teachings were abridged, but they hadn’t been together for just a day or two. Wasn’t Cypress the one who had guided Inggis to become a knight? An
ominous aura hung over the front lines.
The only good news was that the king himself had come out of his palace last night, bringing an army with him.
They would welcome the drowned, born in the rain, in place of the exhausted southern army.

* * *

The Mad Knights wore cloaks embroidered with steps resembling castle walls. The dark green cloak had become their signature. Most of the knights wore one.
Encred’s was a bit more special, but the others also protected themselves from the rain.
Aside from Temares and Luagarne, the cloaks gifted by the fairies were more than enough to keep out the rain.
The cloaks deflected the rain, keeping them dry. All
they had to do was pull over the hood, double-stitched with oiled leather, to keep their heads dry. Even without a cloak, the dragons were soaked through and through. They walked alone, untouched by illness.
This was the dignity of a race born with will.
Of course, their mouths were far from majestic.

“Why can’t that mouth stop?”

Luagarne muttered. Yongin answered without even looking back at Frock.

“There’s no need for that.”

Indeed, those were the words of an arrogant race.
Yong-in, having read her mind a moment ago, revealed the words he had been repeating to himself: “He’s the only companion.” Shinar nodded calmly and acknowledged.

“Of course it’s just me.”

Whatever Yongin said, Shinar had long since deviated from the norm. Even by the standards of fairies, it was the same, and everyone present knew it.
Therefore, no one was surprised when he spoke without a trace of emotion. Shinar acknowledged Yongin’s words. There was no reason to hide his true feelings.

“They say spinning thread isn’t easy.”

Encred ignored Sinar’s words and muttered. The cloak expanded and contracted automatically, blocking most attacks and even shedding rainwater.
He remembered the words of one of the Dryus clan members, his green eyes gleaming.

“This cloth contains the essence of our clan.”

The clan she spoke of was the Druids. Even within the Elves, there were several clans. Many possessed special talents.

‘There are many fairies who are not normal, including the wood guards who burn tobacco.’

Looking at the blacksmith repairing the broken penna, he seemed like just another person passionate about his work. Encred gripped and released the penna, hung diagonally on his right waist.
A wandering thought. Perhaps it was the relaxation that came with leisure.
The pouring rain didn’t depress Encred. If his mind had been shaken by the unsettling rain, he would have long since stopped at today. Even if that hadn’t happened, he might have died before repeating today.
While not perfectly calm, the ability to always compose himself was one of Encred’s specialties.
His tendency to provoke others with a calm tone stemmed from this tendency.

“I am grateful that you gave me a cloak that fits my body well.”

Audín murmured. His joy was palpable. The fairy’s gift was genuine. She even gave him a cloak that fit his body perfectly.
It was the first clothing gift he had ever received. Back when he was a monk, he had to sew three garments together to fit himself.

“Yeah, you got it right.”

Rem muttered. It felt odd for Audin to be wearing a cloak made of cloth, not a tent. But it was equally satisfying.
Teresa rubbed the cloak between her thumb and index finger. The texture was truly unique. Even
on a day like this, it didn’t feel damp. It wasn’t
just dry; the air inside the cloak was refreshing. It was the weaving skill of the elves, imbued with the essence of their magic.

“If you want to make a fire, just tell me. I am the fairy who controls fire.”

Sinar puffed up his nose a little. That level of arrogance rivaled Yongin’s.

Heehee.

The horse neighed in the ominous air mixed with the rain. Shinar patted the horse’s head.
It was hardly a pleasant or pleasant journey, by any means. It was a gloomy, ominous, dreary, and stifling day, yet they seemed to be immune to its influence. They
joked and talked nonsense.
They didn’t complain of headaches, nor did they feel particularly heavy.
Despite their chatter, the group continued to walk steadily. They walked diligently. Finding the path wasn’t difficult. They
simply had to keep a few mountain peaks to their left and proceed straight ahead. Unless they were Ragna, they could simply watch the sunrise to find their bearings.

“If you feel lost, wake me up.”

Ragnar muttered something nonsensical and began to doze off.

“okay.”

Encred answered without much thought.
The plains ended, and they had to cross a series of rolling hills. It was a land overgrown with short brush. A forest appeared on the left.
From here, a sharp turn east led to Viscounty Harrison.
They say the further south you go, the more drowned you’ll find.
Rainy days tend to produce drowned people everywhere. These long, rainy days are particularly prime for the drowned.
This is the result of hundreds of scholars’ observations, experiments, and research.
The drowned are born from water. The seeds of a monster called the Demonic Realm were forcibly sown, and they spread across the continent. These forcibly sown seeds were then sprinkled with rainwater, conceiving and giving birth to the illegitimate offspring of the drowned.
The air and rain of the Demonic Realm are like this. Some scholars have even called them the vanguard of an attack on the continent.

“Oh really, isn’t it annoying that so many come out?”

“This is what Rem says, looking at the crowd of drowned people. Fighting is fighting. Those things were nothing more than filth blocking the path.
At least to them. The ominous air emanating from the demonic realm, the demons, the beasts? Ominous and gloomy? Rem was used to this kind of weather. She was used to this kind of air.
The West wasn’t a good place for humans to live. The climate was often unpredictable. To him, this kind of weather wasn’t unusual.

‘It’s better than near silence.’

Moreover, the place where he grew up was right next to the demonic realm called “Silence.” He couldn’t even wield sorcery if he was to be entangled in something like subversion.
He was as solid and sturdy as when he started out as a Border Guard.
Rem squinted, letting his arm, gripping his axe, hang loose. Rainwater flowed down his forearm and along the blade. It was barely enough to keep his axe from rusting. He held a falling weapon. The blade trembled like a beating heart, gathering magical power.

“Huh? Isn’t that right?”

Rem asks, his lips quirked in a bitter smile. He’s not expecting an answer.
He tensed his forearms, watching the strange shapes rise from the rain.
Encred counted the number of monsters blocking his path, despite the haze of rain and fog. It wasn’t difficult. A knight’s vision wasn’t this impeded.
Counting the number of heads was something he’d already done countless times, risking half his life as a scout. He drew an
imaginary circle, counted the drowned within it, and then multiplied the circle to determine the total.

‘Over two hundred?’

Are there many? There are plenty. If a typical peddler or merchant encountered them, it would be a crisis.
Or even the right thing to do would be to run away.
But not for them.

“Okay. I’d like to relax, but it’s hard to leave before the idiot comes.”

“Only a fairy can calm a horse’s anxiety,” said Sinar. She continued to pat the heads of several horsemen, soothing her companions who were carrying their packs.

“Then me too.”

Luagarne stepped forward.
The southern rain was heavy, cold, and hard, but Frock enjoyed any kind of rain. That’s why only Yongin and she didn’t wear cloaks.
Even for her, the rain falling near the Demon Realm wasn’t particularly pleasant. But did that matter? She said, patting Yongin on the elbow.

“Have you heard of friend fees? Temares?”
“What’s that? Is it a new concept?”
“It’s where you play with someone in exchange for gold. I won’t be accepting gold from you, so I’ll have to give you something else instead.”

Temares thought for a moment at Luagarne’s words and then said.

“Do you want me to turn into a woman and become that man’s companion?”
“……What kind of mindset do you have to come to that conclusion?”

Shinar, who had been watching, grew angry. She abandoned her fairies’ indifferent expression and raised her eyebrows.
It was a change in a fairies’ expression that was hardly unusual these days. Her anger was palpable.
Of course, compared to a human, it was merely a trembling, raised eyebrow.
Luagarne puffed out her cheeks, let out a gurgling laugh, and spoke.

“Fight. Clear the path of those you follow. Temares, it’s time you paid the price for playing along.”

Yong-in nodded without any hesitation.

“Okay.”

Trade means giving and receiving. Yongin understood the concept of trade. He recognized that to remain friends or allies, there had to be a price to pay.
Encred also drew his sword, forgetting his lack of communication. There were many monsters waiting to receive his sword.
What magical power did this raindrop hold, unknown to him? Perhaps it was because the demonic realm was approaching.
The current gathered at the center of the group of drowned, and a translucent evil spirit appeared. It was a water ghost. It was somewhere between a drowned person and an evil spirit, and among ordinary soldiers and mercenaries, it was treated as a god of death.

“Should we go a little faster?”

Encred decided there was no need to slow down because of the rain.

“That’s mine!”

Dunbakel shouted and leaped forward. Her feet were so swift that a trail of rainwater mixed with her afterimages burst and scattered in her wake.
The rainwater scattered like dandelion seeds.

“That kid.”

Rem pouted, missing the player.
Several of the drowned, recognizing Dunbakel, waved their hands, their purple-tinged claws raking the air.
Dunbakel crouched, then leaped up, stomping on one of the drowned’s heads with his foot, blasting it open.

puck!

His skull shattered, black blood mixing with the rain. Dunbakel soared, almost flying, right in front of the water demon.
With his scimitar, he sliced ​​through the demon, who had been holding his ground in the center. It all happened in a matter of breaths. It was
a swift, swift, and daring swordsmanship.
As the demon died, it flung water blades in all directions, but the nimble waterman swung his scimitar in midair, blocking them. After hitting the ground, he dodged them with a few flips.
As the drowning men charged, he alternately extended his blade, kicked, and punched, slicing and crushing the monsters’ heads and torsos.

“Haha! I am the most beautiful woman in the East, Dunbakel!”

She shouted as she spun on the ground. With each turn, water swirled around Dunbakel, swirling in all directions. The cloak wrapped around her clung tightly to her body, synchronizing with her movements.
Perhaps she was planning to create a new nickname for herself with each fight.

“It’s noisy.”

Ragna muttered as he stepped forward.

“That kid keeps lying and saying he can’t confirm anything.”

Rem chuckled. This one was a bit cute.
Isn’t the East supposed to be a place where people live?
Few would call her beautiful while smelling the musty smell of Dunbakel. It
didn’t take long for the two hundred drowned to be sorted out.
The party continued to walk, even into the night, through the crowd of drowned. The rain had lightened, but it didn’t stop. It was a gloomy day, with clear skies a distant prospect. It seemed the gods were on the side of the demons.
The closer they got to the south, the thicker the ominous air became. And the monster attacks continued. Naturally, neither did the party.