Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 873

873. The King and the Knight’s Provocation

At first, the total number of flying arrows didn’t exceed five. Then, the number gradually increased. From five to seven, from seven to ten, from ten to twenty.

Tung-

“The protest is over! Damn it, throw a spear!”

The soldiers who had been passively retreating gained momentum. That knight kept his word. So, should we just stand here and watch? No. The Lichenstätten army was furious.

“One, two, throw!”

They threw their javelins in sync. Still, no one crossed the line. Naurilia’s mad knight swung his black-bladed sword. He drew two arcs simultaneously, from bottom to top.
Five flying javelins were caught and cut by the blade. The cuts were sharp. It was
a fierce swing. A few Confederate soldiers gulped at the sight. If they changed their minds and charged, that swing would be aimed at their own necks. It would be a lie to say they weren’t afraid.

“Where!”

However, the knight seemed unwilling to cut off the heads of those who threw spears and shot arrows, as long as they didn’t cross the line. So, can he throw more?

“Throw as much as you want.”

That’s what they say.

“……Bring me the window.”

Several strong soldiers lined up in a line and approached a few steps, reaching a distance of five steps from the line drawn by the enemy knight.

“Throw it!”

There was no relief. They threw them simultaneously, and with a single swing of their swords, the javelins fell with a thud. This time, each threw at a different time,
firing a few more arrows in between. It was a mobile anti-personnel weapon, known within the Southern Army as the Trias Bow.
Its name, a mixture of ancient and imperial languages, meant a bow used by three people. Its advantage was its power, its disadvantage its durability.

Boom! Right!

The strings snapped under the repeated firing, unable to withstand the tension, or the supports anchored to the ground broke. The number of arrows flying in halved. Sweat trickled down Pell’s forehead. Still, he didn’t think he’d be hit by a javelin or arrow.

“Come out.”

One of the enemy soldiers pushed forward, pushing against the shoulder of his allies. He reached just in front of the line drawn by Fel.

“He said he’d cut me if I crossed it.”

Fel, who saw that, spoke. He dodged and deflected arrows without even a gasp of breath. It was eerie. The soldier froze at those words, then calmly calculated the distance and quickly threw down his shield.

Phew!
Thud!

It was meant to obscure the vision. Fel slammed his fist against the shield, deflecting it. Through the gap, javelins, bolts from crossbows, and thick arrows from the Thras Bow flew.
Fel’s pupils narrowed. He instantly captured and moved every projectile flying toward him.

pop!

Pell’s body moved sideways, drawing afterimages. Four arrows caught his sword and broke. One arrow, half broken, spun in the air before sinking into the ground.

“I said no.”

Even if he was hit, would it even pierce his flesh?
Fel had rolled and rolled in the Mad Knights. Was he just rolling? For the first time in his life, he gritted his teeth and struggled. He wouldn’t tolerate being left behind. In the process, he had learned and mastered the knightly art known as ironclad. Even the crude arrows they used would leave only scratches on his body.
He could withstand a direct hit without spilling. Yet, Fel dodged and parried them all. He didn’t even receive a scratch.
The enemy soldiers swarmed in, throwing arrows, javelins, and shields. One of the commanders threw his sword from his belt.
Fel caught it, hurled it, and planted it just before the line he had drawn.
He would not die unless he crossed. He was true to his word. From Commander Lichenstätten’s perspective, it was terror. A visualization of fear.

‘You can kill, but you don’t.’

With the death of three knights, morale plummeted, but they were already broken.
It was the spirit of the madman Fel had shown. It was a promise he didn’t have to keep. It wasn’t a vow, it wasn’t an oath. Yet, Fel kept it. He was true to his word.

“Don’t cross it.”

While leaving warnings here and there.

‘Knights are a disaster.’

The enemy commander’s legs gave out. He finally managed to stand, but he was already practically on his knees. The flying weapons stopped.

Dagdak, dagdak, dagdak, dagdak.

Behind him, a dark brown horse with a beautifully grown mane slowly approached. Its rider wore a cream-colored cloak. It bore three swords, a shield, and a cloak emblazoned with the symbol of the sun in red.

“Whoa, what is it? Are you giving up?”

Pell took a deep breath and spoke. He sensed a presence behind him, but dismissed it as nothing. Most of the soldiers had tired expressions.
Those monstrous bastards.
A knight is a disaster, a monster. To the soldiers now, the man standing before that line was a disaster, a monster.
The commander, who had mustered the courage to create this situation, was blinded.

‘Should I have just let him attack?’

Even knights have two hands. Even if they were running wild, they would have inflicted at least some minor damage. Or perhaps, they simply didn’t expect them to go this far.
The actions of that one knight with light brown hair sent a chill down everyone’s spine. How could they do such a terrible thing so casually?
The commander of this unit wondered how many of them would survive here.

Surrender? Surrender?

The heart of the Southern Army isn’t here. Surrendering here will mean death in the long run.
The Emperor, their king, won’t forgive anyone who betrays them even once.
The Emperor isn’t that soft. That’s just the way their king is.

‘So, should I rush in here knowing I’ll die?’

The commander sought God. Of course, God doesn’t appear every time a human needs him.

“Geo…….”

He was about to shout, “Let’s fight even in hell. Let’s fight even if we all die here.” It was too late, but there was no other way. He had no choice.

“If you don’t cross the line, you won’t be killed!”

The commander couldn’t finish his sentence. Even before his voice could rise, the owner of the cream-colored cloak spoke first.
Krang agreed with Fel’s actions. The knight seemed to have converted the momentum he had displayed so far into words.
Everyone’s eyes were drawn to the declaration shouted from his horse. The dark-brown horse raised and lowered its forelegs. “Hiiiing,” the horse’s neigh seemed to add force to its master’s words. Just as the commander-in-chief of Lichenstätten was about to speak, his opponent stole the moment. They
say a great orator knows the moment to open his mouth.
Krang was just like that. He commanded the attention of not only his allies but also the enemy. He didn’t even take a deep breath. With a calm demeanor, he glanced at the enemy commander, seemingly appreciating the repercussions of his knight’s actions. The next words came:

“awesome.”

Yes, even among the enemy soldiers, there were those who felt the same way. Just because you’re a knight, does that mean you have to keep your word?
Aside from knights, such people are rare. Even if you’re confident you can do it, it’s rare to find someone willing to take risks, endure discomfort, and do something like this. That’s why the word “cool” fits so well.

“Knight Fel.”

The crane called the madman.

“Please speak.”

Fel wondered why Encred had come all this way when he had been ordered to protect the king.
He spoke, ready to block any further arrows fired by the enemy. Four royal guards stood quietly behind the king.
The king, as he had been approaching, was relaxed in every gesture and word. There was no sense of urgency. He didn’t seem like someone about to engage in a slaughter-like battle, where he would immediately order them all to die.
A single word from him would have saved only a handful of the enemy.
He held the power to control their lives and deaths.

“Is there anyone dead in your hands?”

The king asked.

“doesn’t exist.”

Fel answered.

“Why?”
“Don’t cross the line.”

That’s what I said. Because I promised to keep it.
Even as I uttered those words, there was no hesitation. Perhaps this is what
a knight is. Even the slightest word slips from his lips and he upholds it. His attitude is like a textbook. He may have come from the wilderness as a shepherd, but now, more than anyone else in this room, he was more knightly than anyone else. The Knights of Encred resembled him. Krang swallowed a laugh. He couldn’t laugh here.

“I see.”

Krang dismounted, speaking. He then stepped forward in front of Fel. Fel hesitated, wondering whether he should intervene.

‘Can I leave it alone?’

Stepping forward like that makes it difficult to block arrows. There’s always that one-in-a-million chance.
Wouldn’t it be a good idea if the king were to get hurt, even by accident?

“majesty.”

The head of the royal guard followed. The king stopped him with a wave of his hand. It was a gentle refusal.

“This is my stage. Don’t interfere.”

This is the moment when the king, who spoke in a mumbling manner, steps forward.

Fluttering.

A winged horse dismounted behind him. Encred dismounted from his side and stood behind the king on his right. Cyprus had also followed the king. He stood behind the king on his left.

“What a luxurious escort.”

Krang muttered. This time, everyone heard what he said. It was truly remarkable, even though he didn’t speak very loudly, his voice carried widely.
Perhaps it was his pronunciation that was different.

“I speak to the Southern Army.”

Encred and Cypress didn’t show any signs of aggression, simply standing still, yet they naturally overpowered their surroundings.
Nevertheless, the eyes of all the enemy soldiers focused solely on the owner of the cream-colored cloak.
He raised his hand and pointed downward. Following the tip of his finger revealed a long line. A rough line drawn by Fel, splitting the earth.
Even during the fighting, it remained untouched, so it was still clearly visible.

“If you don’t cross the line, you won’t die. If that’s what this knight means, then I will respect it. My name is Kdianat Landius Nauril, and I stake my name on this statement.”

A shout rang out. A silence so deep that not even a single swallow could be heard flowed, then a commotion erupted. Words leaked out from the Lichenstätten army.

“……You’ll save me?”
“As long as I don’t cross the line?”
“……Why?”

It’s understandable. But no one among the enemy would understand Krang’s intentions.
Encred saw it that way. Realistically, what kind of lunatic would decide to let all the enemy soldiers live when they had a perfect chance of victory?
Especially when the two countries were engaged in an all-out war.

“If you want to end this battle in one fell swoop, just cross the line and cut my throat. It’s easy.”

Krang continued. This was an unexpected boldness. The enemy commander’s pupils didn’t even flinch. It wasn’t something to worry about.

‘That’s nonsense.’

On one side is the Griffon Slayer, waving his dark green cloak, and on the other is Cypress, the Knight of the Red Cloak, the guardian deity of southern Naurilia.

“Are you saying I can step back?”

The commander asked. He didn’t know why the king of Naurilia was here, and it was all surprising. Suspicion
naturally arose. Was he trying to give hope and drive them into despair? He wouldn’t be easily rebuffed if he said something like that.
Aren’t all the knights watching?
It was natural for them to revere honor and chivalry. To mock the enemy in this way was uncharacteristic of a knight. Even if the king did something like that, he would still be resented. That’s what knights are. The commander’s mind was in turmoil.

“You can go. Instead.”

Krang opened his mouth again. Without finishing his sentence, he met the commander’s eyes.
The Lichenstein commander looked at the enemy king. His eyes were like blue jewels. Within them, a young resolve truly shone.

‘I don’t have the eyes to discuss lies.’

The commander thought and waited for the king to continue speaking.

“Tell the Emperor I’m here. Tell him I expected to see that author’s face when I came here, but I’m disappointed.”

This is a highly provocative provocation. The king himself came to the battlefield to greet you, and the question was, “Where are you?”
Moreover, the South was steeped in a culture that revered the strong. The emperor was one of those people.

“Go and tell him. I’ll be waiting here.”

Krang spoke and turned, his cream-colored cloak billowing in the wind.

“You have planned something interesting, Your Majesty.”

Cypress spoke from beside him.
Encred had already read his friend’s mind. So it wasn’t surprising. Instead, he met the enemy commander’s eyes.
The commander, sensing Encred’s gaze, turned his head, questioning whether he could truly retreat.

“If this is all there is to the Knights Templar.”

What is that kid trying to say now?

“Please tell them I’m disappointed.”
“……Hmm?”
“They were all so weak that I couldn’t even relax.”

Encred was sincere. If this was all there was to it, he had no intention of hiding his disappointment. That’s why his expression clearly showed his emotions.

“Pfft.”

Krang laughed at those words. His majestic demeanor was shattered, but he didn’t care.

“ha ha ha!”

Instead, he laughed out loud. Cyprus also burst into laughter.

“I didn’t mean to make you laugh, but anyway, tell him to bring more knights.”

Encred spoke calmly and turned away.
That day, the commander had to choose his words as he retreated and relayed the news to the main force.
This didn’t provoke a violent outburst, but the armrest of his chair bore a handprint. It was crushed by the force of his grip.