Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 879

879. The flower of war

The two members of the Ruby Knights, Machia and Achilles, took their positions, exchanged glances, and adjusted their postures.
They did so without even blinking. Their reactions were that swift. They weren’t even surprised by the sight of winged horses. While
there wasn’t any actual verbal communication between them, they knew what they needed to know.
Achilles remained expressionless, lost in thought.

‘You didn’t even dodge my javelin, and you’re using it to increase your fall speed?’

He’s not usually a handyman.

‘Is it a supernatural ability?’

It didn’t look like it.
Achilles lowered the tip of his spear at an angle. It was incredibly slow. It was slow enough for his opponent to see it and rush in, and even Asia and Marcus, who stood far behind, saw it as slow.
It was a decoy. Naturally, his opponent didn’t react.

‘I’ll maintain a defensive attitude.’

Even he would do the same.
The one who fell from the sky didn’t show any signs of aggression, just shifted position. It was like a calm lake. It was a lake where a fleeting smile was a truly unlucky sight.
He stood with himself and Machia on either side.
Machia recalled the moment he had swung his greatsword just moments ago.

‘Did I give less strength?’

No.
He’d been able to relax his grip when facing the cute orange-haired sergeant, but not this time. Which meant, even if he was a knight, he had to roll on the ground.
Even if his spine didn’t break, he had to use a timely fall technique to get knocked out. If that had happened, he could have continued his attack.
But that wasn’t the case. His prediction was wrong. The moment he’d seen through the knight’s insight had changed.
Was that the cute orange thing standing behind him blocking his back?

‘Will a cart wheel stuck in the mud come out just because a locust adds strength?’

Unless that locust is a mantis, one of the monsters, it’s impossible.

‘If it’s a monster, it wouldn’t even have the hand to push the carriage in the first place.’

The bottom line is this. Even though I swung with all my might, trying to knock him out, the man absorbed the shock from my greatsword.
The orange hair was merely a trigger. So even without her, that guy would have rolled on the floor, but wouldn’t have been in much trouble.

“He’s a really funny guy. Hey, can’t you hear me? Did you come here on Pegasus?”

Machia asked. The other knight answered in a calm tone.

“The ride was amazing. I even slept during the ride.”

If you can gain the upper hand by exploiting your opponent’s weaknesses before a fight, there’s no reason not to. This is also a knightly virtue.
Southern knights, including Machia, learned and practiced this. But it feels like it’s not making any sense.

‘You’re so calm in this situation?’

Giving space to two knights? And what more could he say? He even slept while he came?
The funny thing is, he seemed to be saying that with all his heart. Are you lying with all your heart and sincerity? Why? Or did you really sleep on horseback?
Sleeping on a galloping horse is a feat, but on a saddleless Pegasus?

“Look at this.”

Machia recognized her opponent’s skillful verbal skills. Achilles was less perceptive than she.

“Are you alone?”

The question was whether he intended to deal with the two alone.

“Yeah, I don’t have any specific plans to get married yet.”
“……What are you talking about, you crazy kid.”

Achilles showed his bewilderment. Was even that a trick? To Machia, it was a half-and-half. That was Achilles’s gambit. Half sincere. The embarrassment itself was genuine.
His fellow knight, who wielded a long spear better than he could, admitted his inability to defeat his opponents with words, and instead enjoyed exploiting that by feigning anger and deceiving them.
That’s why he exploited both genuine anger and genuine surprise. It’s the art of emotional manipulation.
A knight sees through even the most clumsy of tricks. Achilles’ technique was developed from observing the emotional control of fairies, who distorted the truth. That’s why he easily deceives his opponents.
However, for Encred, it was an all-too-obvious tactic.
At his side, a dozen times a day, someone twisted the truth as a joke and attacked him verbally.

“Hello, fiancé. Today is a good day to get married. And it’s the day I die.”

This morning greeting is a daily occurrence. Superficially, both are true, but a closer look reveals that the approach of death is common to all.
While it’s rare for someone to die knowing when they’ll die, intelligent species die at any moment. No being possessed of immortality.
Even the dragons will eventually die. Temares himself acknowledged this.
He even said that the dragons’ final moments are almost always suicide. And that this isn’t a sad or painful thing.
To them, death is a cessation of contemplation, a pause to rest. Pulling the fish of sorrow from the river of death is the privilege of those with short lives.
That’s why fairies and frogs often exclude sorrow from death. Dragons, even more so, fail to understand the reason for sorrow in death.
Encred ignored the spear-wielding man’s tricks and asked back.

“Are you alone too?”

Achilles wasn’t exactly handsome, no matter how you looked at him. His eyes were narrow and his nose was low. His lips were thick, like those of a river fish.
As a knight, he had a well-proportioned physique and a nice body, but his face ruined everything. A face doesn’t correlate with skill. Looks don’t make a knight. I know. I know, but it didn’t feel good.
If looks were a talent, it was even more unpleasant, coming from one of the most talented men on the continent.

“I will cut off your tongue.”

Achilles also ignored Encrid’s words.

“Do whatever you want.”

Machia answered. Encred, standing between them, took a deep breath. The smile from earlier had vanished.
Aside from the joy, there was no room for a smile amidst the sword, spear, and seriousness. If you fail, you die. Regardless of skill, a person dies from excessive bleeding, a beheading, or a punctured internal organ.
Asia, unable to join them, retreated. In this situation, nothing could be more foolish than fainting from blood loss.
She tore open the outer layer of her inner Gambison and wrapped it around her arm, squeezing the bleeding. The wound was too severe to voluntarily move her muscles to hold it in place.
Marcus watched from afar, Asia from nearby, and even further away, some of the allies and enemies.
The tunnel the two knights had dug was on the verge of collapse, so no one was coming out.
Instead, Commander Lichenstätten used his wits. He scooped up the earth the two knights had dug, using shields and the like, to smother some of the flames.
While the entire unit couldn’t march out in formation, some were able to come out and survey the area.
The commander, escorted by the Horseshoe Infantry, was observing the situation. Had two of my own knights ripped through the enemy?
That expectation wasn’t easily met. A knight had seemingly fallen from the sky.
Later, when I wrote my autobiography, would it be better to include the fact that an enemy knight had fallen from the sky? Or would it be better to omit it?
Two allies, one enemy.
The difference in numbers was clear. Moreover, the two Ruby Knights were men of extraordinary talent.
Macchia and Achilles were renowned knights even within the great nation.
The eerie air settled. The sound of the rocks shattering and exploding moments ago felt like it had happened a month ago. My sense of time was in disarray. Too much had happened in a short space of time.

Hurruk.

Only the sound of flames scorching the air reverberated, as if they were sworn enemies.
It had begun with Machia. Her nickname was monstrous strength, and she was confident in her strength. With a bang, the knight’s greatsword struck the ground, cutting a horizontal line across the air.
In time, Achilles’s long spear flew behind Encred’s right back of the head.
Both men possessed exceptional distance control. They came exactly to their desired distance, then stopped, revealing their true strengths. One with the greatsword, the other with the longsword.
Encred stood, clutching the dawn in both hands. This was no match for two swords. It would have been nice to be able to face two knights with two swords, but that would have been difficult. His best chance was with a single sword.
Against two knights, the lone one was naturally at a disadvantage, and the odds were slim. Everyone thought so.
Only one man in the room showed any confidence.

Zeng!

Encred flew sideways, meeting Dawn’s greatsword. Machia felt a momentary loss of strength.
There was no time to think. She needed to crush him with her sword. Following her instincts, Machia crushed her opponent. Achilles unleashed his pursuit as soon as
his target moved. He widened his stride, bending and then straightening his elbows.

‘The match is decided in an instant.’

The judgments of Macchia and Achilles overlapped.

“If you’re meeting your opponent for the first time, retreat.”
“If you don’t know your opponent, don’t expect a single blow.”
“Don’t forget that time and terrain can be your allies, and use them to your advantage.”

This was the moment when the instructor’s teachings were useless. There was no time to apply them.
The enemy stood between them, yet he didn’t retreat a single step, nor did he show any defensive posture.
He boldly turned his back to one side and met the other’s attack. It seemed as if his opponent’s feet had fallen before Machia’s sword had even struck. That’s how fast his reaction was. And that’s how crazy it was.
That’s why their pre-battle tactics were a mess.
While the two of them had learned and practiced tactics through hundreds of mock battles with the Knights, Encred struggled to survive with his meager skills. Later, he was taught by Prok, who could be called a genius in terms of individual tactics.
Encred made a bold decision based on rational thinking, and that’s all he did.
Time is on whose side? It’s not fixed. Will prolonging the battle give the enemy an advantage? Then, he simply needs to prevent them from exploiting that advantage.

“It’s simple. Simple actions are best. Thinking up tactics while throwing down your sword is foolish.”

These were Luagarne’s words.
Few within the Mad Knights could match Encred’s ability to make snap judgments and plan battles.
The two knights facing him, their minds drawn to the best path forward.

‘If I don’t know that author, you don’t know me.’

Machia understood the logic. Achilles felt the same way. They both gave it their all.

‘The power of the giant.’

Machia used her power to defeat a giant in arm wrestling. Achilles unleashed his invisible hand.
Many in the South were gifted with extraordinary abilities. Among them, two knights, gifted with brute strength and telekinesis, were present.

‘You’re out of luck.’

Achilles’s mind raced and his nose bled. He extended his long spear and grabbed Encred’s ankle with an invisible hand.
His eyes stung, his heart aching. It was a physical reaction to overusing his supernatural powers. Machia was no different. The veins in her forearms swelled, threatening to burst.
The opponent leaped to avoid the invisible hand, then struck the knight’s greatsword with brute force, then slid down, attempting to slice her wrist.
Machia instantly gripped her sword with only her left hand, striking her opponent with the blade of the greatsword and shaking him off.
Encred was bold here too. He didn’t even attempt an evasive maneuver.

bang!

He raised his left arm and blocked the greatsword, deflecting it. It was a body deflection technique typical of the Balaf style. Simultaneously, the sword in his right hand curled like a snake and pierced Machia’s neck.
If he were accustomed to wielding two swords simultaneously, this would be possible. He would use the technique by staggering the tempo of both hands.
To be precise, he staggered the tempo of his body and right hand.
Encred struck the sword before blocking, and Machia hadn’t anticipated this. It all came down to a simple and clear word:
the difference in skill .
One was faster, had more combat experience, and was equally strong.

Gulp.

As Machia gushed blood, Achilles’ spear struck Encred’s side. Even that wasn’t a fatal blow.

“It hurts.”

There were various reasons, but for someone who had punched a hole in a knight’s neck with a single blow, the words were too plain.

“you.”

Achilles couldn’t hide his bewilderment. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. When startled, people either hold their breath or inhale more air.
Those trained as knights usually do the latter. They maximize their oxygen supply for explosive muscle movements.
They fill their alveoli with fresh air and increase the oxygen concentration in their blood, preparing them for the intense activity ahead.

Gulp.

The bubbling wound clenched her muscles, and Machia raised her greatsword again. A puncture to the neck would have meant instant death, but a trained knight could endure. Her will held her.

“That creak, what’s the power?”

Of course, it’s easier said than done. Even if you hold out, it won’t be for long.

“I got this by training with the bear every morning, noon, and night.”

The moment our swords met, I knew my opponent’s strength was his. That’s why even if the question was disjointed, it was easy to answer.

“One more time.”

Machia said, wrapping a healing scroll around her neck for emergency use. Blood trickled down the scroll.
Will she survive? Achilles considered it unlikely. It wasn’t a puncture from a needle or awl. The tip
of a sword went in and out. The hole was smaller than three fingertips, but larger than two.

“There is no time.”

The situation had changed. Now, Encred had the advantage of prolonging the fight.
But he didn’t want to watch his opponent die while occupying the high ground.

“this guy!”

When Achilles and Macchia charged again, he confronted them. He didn’t retreat. He didn’t turn back and defend.
He did so despite possessing the secret technique of extinguishing the embers.
He was an opponent who would win with exceptional talent, a skill honed through a lifetime of training and discipline.

‘It would be a shame not to confront it.’

That was the madman’s thinking.
Machia saw fate and fortune playing tricks on her in their first fight.
She attacked again, planning to win with a single blow, and this time, two of Achilles’ fingers were severed.
He had just tried to cover his eyes with his opponent’s cloak, but failed. That was the price he paid. The blood flowing between the healing scrolls around Machia’s neck increased. What had flowed a moment ago was a gentle stream, now it was a raging river. Even knights could not continue fighting with a near-death wound.
Encred had made it clear to them both: even if they charged with all their might, it wouldn’t work. The difference in their abilities was clear.

“Are you avoiding it?”

Akireunon asked before he died. His left arm, severed from the elbow, dangled, an eyeball missing, and his armor torn and burst open, pink intestines bowing and greeting him.
Encred struggled to find a response to the other man’s question. It was a difficult question. Trying to explain would have been too long. He
had honed his sensory skills by coercing a man named Saxon, and his self-proclaimed fiancé, an older fairy who lived for jokes, had stabbed him with invisible blades of energy during their sparring matches.
So, he was accustomed to blocking invisible attacks. Even the blades of energy concealed their traces, and Saxon’s unkillable stabs even hid his life force.
His opponent’s telekinesis was similar.
Judging by the way he used them—grabbing ankles or grabbing his cloak—he could tell they were deliberately trying to smother his life force. But would he still be alive by the time he finished speaking? Probably not.
Therefore, he had to respond in the Mad Knights style.

“Just avoid it.”

This is how the Knights Templar, including Encred, usually respond.

“A dog……like, bird.”

Achilles cursed and fell, his head thumping against the ground. Encred shook the bloody dawn into the air. Whether it was a sympathizer or something else, it was still his signature weapon.
Just moments ago, it had clung to his hand, extending wherever he pleased. That was truly satisfying.
Two knights were dead. He had killed two knights alone. It wasn’t a common occurrence.

“The flower of war.”
“The devil?”

One of the commanders, recognizing Encred, blurted out these words without realizing it. Word quickly spread.
The war had only just begun, and Lichenstätten had lost six knights from the start. It was truly an encouraging development, from Naurilia’s perspective.
Encred wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, and a winged horse landed beside him.
Seeing this, Marcus roared “hirahhirah” and galloped away.
The enemy simply watched, dumbfounded. Does this make sense? Why lose with two knights?
Humans freeze and their minds harden when their common sense is challenged. Just as they had when they first saw the knights, those who witnessed this power that changed the course of the battlefield froze, their mouths agape, as if they had just stared at Medusa.