Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 885

885. Dark green wall

Ferdinand of the Red Cloak Knights recalled a fight he had seen not long ago.

Was this a sure fight? Was victory certain?

This isn’t a conclusion I reached after mulling it over and over again. I didn’t act on that assumption. I didn’t calculate it.

‘It was like a wild horse running wild.’

I’m not referring to just one person. The entire Mad Knights seemed to be like that.

‘I will protect the camp by making my body a sacred object.’

Riding a flying horse, he leaped over griffons. He didn’t simply slay a few griffons. He literally leaped over them and fought. It was a sight that reminded me of my own Master. I
didn’t gasp in awe at the sight, but I couldn’t help but be astonished. It was that impressive.
Knight Ferdinand, a former commander of a unit under the Knights, had developed an intuition that allowed him to discern the outcome of a fight.

‘This is a loser.’

He assesses his chances of victory before even fighting. It’s a lesson, but it could also be called an old habit. To minimize the deaths of even one of his men, he must be skilled at calculation. This is, in his opinion, the quality of a great commander.
This habit continued even after becoming a knight. It became his specialty.
The good thing about this is that he never lets his guard down, whether he wins or loses.
His training, discipline, and fighting were about studying and exploring practical ways to win, rather than freely and courageously charging ahead. That’s why he avoids losing battles.
If he had to fight for his master or his comrades, he would fight even if he knew he’d lose. But would he be able to enjoy it? Like those so-called madmen?

‘I can’t do it.’

Ferdinand knows himself well. He has faced his limitations.

‘So should we stop here?’

The worry deepened. The rising sun stung my eyes. The distant southward came into view.
Ferdinand had volunteered for a reconnaissance mission, strolling the area. He stopped mid-walk and looked up. A pitch-black dot appeared ahead. It was the moment yesterday’s sun had set and a new morning had arrived.
A knight’s eyesight was far superior to that of an ordinary person, and the Knights of the Red Cloak were skilled in techniques that instantly enhanced their sight and hearing. It was one of the order’s training methods.
Ferdinand’s pupils dilated, becoming more adapted to seeing far into the distance. The moment he saw that, he turned. If he had seen it from this side, he would have seen it from that side.
He ran towards the main camp, abandoning any attempt at stealth. Dirt and rocks flew up in the wake of his run.

* * *

Venom.

Saxon was hearing the name for the first time, but he seemed to know the author’s previous nickname.

Miasma.

Polluted air, even poison, is a word that can be used interchangeably. The author, who accidentally ate a poisonous plant at birth and became a dwarf for the rest of his life, was originally a half-fairy.

‘Isn’t he well over a hundred years old?’

I heard that you once fought with my teacher, the Master.

“That dwarf is still going strong. Did I lose? Does your master, mentor, and adoptive father look that easy?”

I never called him father, but I didn’t understand why he was calling me adoptive father.

“Of course I won.”

The Master smiled, one eye turning blue. It wasn’t the swollen wound from the blow, but rather the venom seeping into it from the blade’s touch. He almost lost sight in one eye. Indeed, the Master’s vision in one eye was severely damaged afterward.

“Please, stop acting so smug and venomous.”
“He’ll just let it out on its own. Anyway, that dwarf is always up to no good. Next time I see him, I’ll kill him.”

“You should have made that resolution, Master.”
Saxon cursed inwardly, shifting his weight to his left foot and lowering his stance. After lowering himself, he used two daggers to block the blows above his head and in front of his left thigh. This wasn’t a simple defense. He had to instill the principles of the swordsmanship throughout his body. Otherwise, some of his flesh would be torn off in an instant.

Ttadang!

The tip of the flail swung by the man named Fustis acted like three living chunks of metal. It felt like blocking three blades simultaneously. Of
course, this was a engraved weapon wielded by a knight. This level of skill was normal.
Then, the blade, aimed for the right side of his head, moved with a whip-like motion. By swinging his arm in a swivel motion, he added speed to the blade, completing a slash as swift as a barbarian’s axe. He applied the principles of a whip to a blade. It was an ingenious attack. Between them, the dwarves Miasma and Venom intervened.

“He’s not only good at poison, he’s a natural-born assassin. That ugly dwarf.”

The Master had said so. The nickname “Miasma” was once the name of a legendary assassin widely known across the continent. The dwarf threw the Silence Knife. Even among Geor’s daggers, only two people, excluding Saxon himself, could wield it.
The dwarf was adept at using the throwing knife, which was nothing more than a blade. He struck with such precision that even knowing the angle and timing was difficult for anyone to react to.
Saxon spun dynamically, bending his waist and straightening his bent knees before abruptly stopping. The Silence Knife flew past where he needed to avoid it. It was a movement as if foresight had been planned. As
soon as he stopped, the flail flew again, and the whip-like blade suddenly thrust in like a harpoon. His arm swung, then plunged into a deep thrust. Simultaneously, Saxon recognized four darts aimed at his back. He had no time to breathe. Still, he continued to block and dodge.

“Why don’t you die?”

This was the question from the author, a half-fairy who had evolved into a dwarf. How could he endure being poisoned and being unilaterally attacked by three men? His voice was filled with absurdity and bewilderment, but even this was a trick. His voice came from the left, and the dart flew from the right.
This was the situation. Death seemed imminent, yet a smile flickered across Saxon’s face from time to time.

‘It’s worth doing.’

The time spent hanging out with barbarians, lazy slackers, bear-men, and the leader shone through.
Even when they fought in a fit of rage, they still swung their axes, extended their fists, and stabbed with their swords with half-serious sincerity.
Saxon, seeing an opening, threw a Silence Knife. Without showing his body turning, he raised his hand skyward.
The knife flew silently, aiming for Pustis’s forehead. The trajectory curved downward. Throwing a dagger wasn’t simply a straight line.
The movement of the wrist, the position of the blade, everything organically influenced the blade, sending it flying in an impossible trajectory.

‘The swimming of the swallow.’

Swift Gliding, a technique where the blade glides through the air and pierces. It’s no wonder it’s imbued with Will. It’s powerful enough to pierce a knight’s armor and kill.
It also erases the killing intent. To erase the killing intent, you need to focus on the technique, not the opponent. You could even say you focus on perfecting the technique, not the killing. This
was familiar to Sachsen. The knife he threw escaped Venom’s sight. In terms of sheer skill as an assassin, Sachsen was far superior. Though
poisoned by Venom’s signature synthetic toxin, Sachsen’s body, having built up a tolerance for it through special training from his mentor and master, held its own. The dizziness and nausea were manageable with self-denial.
The technique, unusable to allies, was about to be pierced into Fustis’s forehead.
Sachsen’s Silence Knife was a custom-made blade, no larger than the size of his index and middle fingers combined. It’s small, but it’s powerful enough to kill a person if it’s lodged in the head.
Saxon leaped backwards, dodging the flail and the blade as soon as he threw the dagger. He somersaulted, gaining a significant distance. Venom, unable to react to the unexpected evasive maneuver, was contemplating whether to throw the dagger in his hand.
Just as the blade, with its muffled, life-threatening energy, reached its target, a shield intervened.

earth-!

Saxon’s decisive blow was blocked. The shield on his forearm blocked the dagger. He adjusted the angle to deflect it.
I couldn’t guess the entire process, but judging by the result, I could see part of it. The one who had intervened must have watched the fight from a distance before intervening.
The swift’s glide was difficult to detect up close. Even Venom, the legendary assassin and master of venom and stealth, missed.
A knight had intervened in the air and ruined the game. Of course, from the perspective of the Mud Knights, it was the right thing to do.

“That’s amazing.”

The author, who had entered, was impressed. He held an oval shield in both hands. No other weapon was visible. That was his signature weapon.

“The commander orders us to hurry. The swamp has widened, and over a hundred soldiers have drowned. If we leave this alone, the entire unit will be annihilated.”

The newcomer spoke. This leaves four knights with a fighting force of knightly caliber. Saxon alone holds the four back.
The funny thing is, Saxon, who seemed outmatched just moments ago, almost won against three.
If Fustis had a blade embedded in his skull, a nice decoration, it would have been just that.

“I told you, that bastard is a monster.”

Pustis wasn’t surprised by what his opponent had done. From the start, he was a tough opponent to deal with alone.

“Did you throw it avoiding my eyes?”

Venom spoke with hurt pride. He was also well-versed in assassination techniques. Just the move Saxon had shown him earlier had already proven his opponent superior. That gnawed at his nerves. But that wasn’t the only thing that gnawed at him. In the tumultuous movement, Saxon’s mask had long since fallen off. His face was revealed. It was the same face that drew the stares of countless ladies, even from the Border Guard.
Venom’s face twisted. He had been deeply self-conscious about his appearance since his youth. It had been since the poison had disfigured him.

“I will peel off your face.”

What more could he possibly face against someone with superior skill?
Wasn’t he just as unlucky as Geor’s dagger master before?
Sachsen looked ahead, no matter what Venom said. The fourth one to appear seemed to specialize in close combat. His weapon, of course, was a testament to that.

“I’ll hold you. In the meantime, strike from behind. Venom, don’t release poison into the air. Use your sword instead.”
“I’ll do it without you asking.”

The one who appeared naturally led the atmosphere of the room. Saxon still had a smile on his face.

‘This too.’

It was fun.
The captain wasn’t just talking about fun. Was it because it was about protecting people, not killing them?
Or was it because of his changed mindset?
Whatever the reason, it was fun.
The joy and delight. Even if this might be the end, even if it seemed inevitable that he wouldn’t win, it would still be a joyful death.
All of it combined, and Saxon opened his mouth.

“Are there four of them?”
“No, there are five.”

The answer came from behind the newly emerged figure. He had grown out his hair, obscuring his vision. He was large and muscular, with a solid overall appearance. While not a giant, he was still enough to make anyone’s eyes roll.
Standing next to the bear-like figure would make for quite an interesting sight.

‘And it would have been more fun if there had been just one of those crazy things.’

I don’t even expect to be a captain. If just one of the three—the barbarian, the savage, and the bear beast—had been present, the course of the battle would have been different.
I can’t ask for assistance. Behind me is Esther. She performed a miracle that changed the landscape of the area. She
single-handedly trapped three thousand soldiers in a swamp. If a knight is a thousand against a thousand, then she’s currently facing three thousand. I can’t ask her to come here and take care of a couple of knights while she’s doing that.
After all, she’s a witch. Even if she’s skilled in this kind of combat, she’s not equipped to handle multiple knights.

‘That’s true for me too.’

But what can I do? This is all I have.
I twirled the two daggers in my grip. My hands were still intact, the dagger blades unharmed. My will to fight was stronger than ever.

‘Protect.’

Saxon’s eyes did not waver.

“This is Baric of the Mud Knights.”

The other man spoke. He had large, innocent-looking eyes, though it didn’t quite match his appearance. He held only a single knife in his right hand.
Instead, he wore thorny armor all over his body. His forearms, shins, and even his chest were covered in sharp protrusions.

‘This side also specializes in close combat.’

The two who appeared seemed to relish the fight, biting and grabbing each other. This wasn’t good news for Saxon.
In the current situation, it was more difficult to deal with those who charged with determination than those who kept their distance, measured their position, and took their time.

“The magician’s trick was extraordinary. On my way here, a hand emerged from the swamp and grabbed my ankle.”

If left alone, the entire unit would be thrown into turmoil. The Mud Knight Commander’s choice was clear:
break through the obstacle and eliminate the cause of all this. His experience dealing with mages was a powerful one, and he had reached this conclusion. Furthermore, the one before him was equally dangerous.
Therefore, all five of them would confront that man here. Meanwhile, all the sub-knights would be sent to keep the mage in check.
The Mud Knights, by nature, were choosing the path most advantageous to their survival, making it the most reasonable and rational choice.
If all five knights acted together, at least no one would die here. This was the basis of Varric’s judgment.

“Hey, just quietly back off. You don’t have to die here.”

Pustis spoke. He truly felt sorry for his opponent. Wouldn’t it be better to wait for another time rather than die here? Someone of his caliber is rare.
Saxon responded with action. He crossed the daggers in both hands diagonally in front of his chest and assumed a stance. He spread his legs slightly apart and relaxed his body. If he were to tense up, he would die instantly. Saxon knew that.

“Clean it up.”

The commander, Varic, spoke. The order was absolute. Everyone moved.
Blades, fists, daggers, and flails flew.
Of the dozens of options, only one was the path to survival. Saxon repeatedly defied implausible odds.
If you counted his attacks and defenses, he surpassed eight. A miracle? A skill? Some would call it a miracle. In terms of time, it was only enough time for five breaths to pass.
Even Varic, including Pustis, was impressed.
If you lose, you die. That is the unchanging truth. And the opponent has two legs to run. In other words, he doesn’t move even though he has a way to live. If he has a job to do and something to protect, he will protect it.
Doesn’t that seem to say something about the kind of person a knight is?

“I will remember the Mad Knights of Saxony.”

Pustis finally grabbed his opponent’s back and spoke. Saxon, with all his will, grabbed his disobedient left arm.
Sacrificing one arm, he pierced the thigh of the man who wielded his two swords like whips, but ultimately, five men were too much for him to block alone.
Death was approaching. A death he had known, a death filled with joy.
I thought of my lover and wanted to leave a message saying how much fun it had been, from the time he was a madman until now.
The captain would be furious, very angry. Would the barbarian just laugh it off? He would tear them all to pieces with a smile. The lazy bastard and the bear-man would be the same.
There wasn’t even time to blink. If I had been just a little bit later, I would have died and had to swim across the black river.

Kwaaang!

Lightning struck. The bolt struck the clear sky, ripping through the ground and sending up mounds of dirt.
Then, a squealing sound was heard overhead, and something flew in.

pop!

A series of noises erupted, and a dark green wall appeared before Saxon’s eyes. Parallel. A wall formed by the billowing of his cloak.
Through the gap, the author’s voice could be heard, as he grabbed Saxon by the collar and dragged him out of the black river.

“You didn’t use up all your strength, did you?”

Saxon spat out the poison he’d been holding in his mouth. It was the result of slowly gathering the poison that had seeped into his body since his first encounter with the dwarf. He didn’t know what would happen, but he hadn’t given up, so he’d been gathering the poison that had spread throughout his body. Spitting it out would require a brief moment of respite. That’s why he finally had the chance to spit out the poison.

“There’s still a long way to go.”

Saxon, who had been spitting poison, answered.