Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 887

887. Four to two

While Venom was exploding with frustration and anger, Barrick was secretly surprised that he hadn’t even managed to inflict a single scratch on his opponent twice.
It was an unbelievable feat. It was truly incomprehensible. What kind of talent and training did he need to achieve such feats?
Curiosity mingled with bewilderment. His opponent had demonstrated remarkable skill. However, that wouldn’t change anything.
Understanding isn’t necessary to destroy something. Even if you don’t understand the structure of a wall, you can still tear it down with brute force.

Ding ding ding.

Fangs sprouted from the corners of Baric’s mouth. Wire-like hairs sprouted from his face. Droplets of blood formed between the hairs that pierced his skin.

Kkuadduk.

His entire body trembled, his skeleton shifting, and the armor he wore settled into place. It was armor he had originally worn with transformation in mind.
Barik was a bear-man, a beastman who had been abandoned for inheriting a cursed blood and form.
Perhaps his situation was similar to Dunbakel’s.
Of course, no one knows the true circumstances. Furthermore, even Barik himself had forgotten his past.

‘I am the commander of the Mud Knights.’

He often hears that he’s an undesirable opponent, no matter who he fights. He hasn’t forgotten his identity. He forgets the past and focuses on the present.
This time is no different. He fights for the Great Emperor. He puts his hand on his will and desires, and moves forward. By doing so, he will receive his own world and his own land.

Krrrrrr.

A thorn-like mane sprouted from his entire body, blending in with his armor. He still held the knife in his hand, but it was now merely a secondary weapon. It was quickly covered by the fur on the inside of his wrist, obscuring it.
Beyond his fingernails and toenails, the thorns that covered his entire body replaced his engraved weapon. Their strength was equal to that of the knife he held. The material for the engraved weapon was his own hide and fur. In other words, he was a genius who transformed his entire body into an engraved weapon.

“Ku …

The bear-like roar echoed through the air. Just hearing it sent shivers down my spine and made my hair stand on end. It stirred a fear that was ingrained in me.
Of course, this didn’t apply to Encred. He had even overcome the Balrog’s pressure.

“It’s a real bear man.”

He was calm. He knew he had to tell this story to Audin. He had to survive to do so.

“It’s a swordsmanship focused on defense. Just press on and you’re done.”

“Pustis spoke. His insight was extraordinary. He quickly read the characteristics of his opponent’s swordsmanship. Longarm, hindered by the gash in his thigh, took a step back. Blood was seeping from the gash in his leg. He had overexerted himself a moment ago.

‘Use your feet as little as possible.’

When an opening appears, thrust your sword. The secret technique of twisting and shaking off his trained arm muscles remains. He uses both arms like whips. He possesses enough skill to accelerate without using his feet.
Barod thrusts his face between two shields. He pulls his chin in and shrinks his neck. It was the preparation posture for a technique called the turtle charge. It was a skill that could deflect most blades.
Barod favored a tactic of combining offense and defense. He specialized in blocking, blocking, and pushing forward to crush his opponent. His current stance was the culmination of his special abilities.
Encred held Dawn in his right hand and let it hang. To those who didn’t know, it would seem a truly sloppy stance.

‘Ready to strike at any time.’

When Baric transforms, his reason fades. Instinct rears its head and asserts itself. Its source is destruction and slaughter.
Hot steam flowed from his mouth. His hot breath rose, and his saliva dripped to the floor.
Pustis observed the situation with a blank expression. His eyes watched, his ears listened, and his mind pondered.

‘There are four of us.’

Losing was out of the question. The Saxon of the Mad Knights was impressive, but strictly speaking, even when three of them faced each other, they weren’t outmatched.
If one of them had been defeated here, would the other two just watch?
As time passed, the outcome was uncertain. No, we were the ones who would have won. It would have been the same even if the captain and Barod hadn’t joined us.

‘Even if Barod hadn’t stopped it.’

How could I have avoided the dagger aimed for my head? If I had reacted the moment it touched, my head wouldn’t have been pierced.
Since I wasn’t wearing a helmet, I’d always been careful to wrap Will around my neck excessively. If only the armor that bound Will and toughened my skin had held on just a little longer, I could have bought myself more time. Then, I might have lost an eye, but I wouldn’t be dead.
The situation was clear. Our side had the advantage, the enemy had the disadvantage.
So why was I so anxious? Pustis’s gaze darted left and right. One of those anxieties was about to become reality.
His insight warned him. His gaze naturally stopped on one spot. It was the one called Saxon. The man, nearly dead, spoke.

“once.”

He spoke and threw a dagger. As if he had timed it, the captain rushed forward, swinging his flail as well.
Leading the attack was the captain, Barik.
Barik stomped his foot. BOOM! A deafening noise rang out. The ground shook as if an earthquake had struck under his feet.
The vibration was enough to throw anyone off balance. Yet, his opponent remained unfazed. He swung his sword, imbued with a faint blue light, and struck the captain’s claws. Just before the captain could charge, his opponent charged first.

Bang!

A loud noise and a shockwave spread. The opponent passed Barik and turned. Meanwhile, Barik raised his knee and struck diagonally with his elbow. He spun his sword around, gripping it backwards, and blocked his knee with the tip of his sword, and his elbow with the guard. It was an incredible feat. A
loud noise, “thud,” echoed between them, and the thorny leather covering the master’s knee snapped the blade back with a “kwang.” The opponent used that force to deflect the elbow slash with his guard.
It was an astonishingly sophisticated swordsmanship. While their breaths weren’t close enough, elbows and knees were more comfortable than fists. Only someone skilled
in close combat could do such a thing.
Longarm couldn’t intervene due to a thigh injury, and Barod, trying to follow the master’s movements and flank his opponent, suddenly lost his target when the master and his target switched positions.
Only Pustis himself slammed his flail with all his might. The three maces unfolded without colliding.
He intended to block the path of the enemy’s advance and strike him down. He simply intended to block it, then seize his sword with his three maces and strike him back. His opponent defied his intentions. He drew his second sword and stabbed him.
If he continued his attack, he would have punctured his throat. Pustis, unable to shake off the flail, retreated.

Clang! Thud! Thud!

Three hammers clashed against each other, making a loud noise.

“Crack.”

And after just one attack, Venom died. So it was just as Insight had warned. It
was the work of the one who exuded ominous energy.
Saxon had slit the throat of the unfortunate half-blood fairy, who had honed the art of assassination for over a century. The dwarf fairy, with a second mouth in his neck, collapsed to the floor, bleeding profusely. The words coming from his mouth, gurgling and spitting out blood, were difficult to understand.
He waved his hand in the air as he lay on the floor. There was no way to survive without the celestial god descending.
If he wanted to live, he would have to live as a slave to a wizard skilled in necromancy.
Fortunately or unfortunately, there were no celestial gods or wizards skilled in necromancy.
Blood dripped from Venom’s neck and soaked the floor. Victory was clear, the outcome was clear.
The reason for this outcome was simple: the disparity in skill between the two was obvious.
Sachsen had been determined to kill Venom from the beginning. He hadn’t just spoken to him and gotten his attention.
If the dagger he threw at Pustis hadn’t pierced his skull, Venom would have used that opportunity to target himself. He had even considered that.
Sachsen devised a strategy of giving flesh and taking bone. This was the outcome if there had been no variables when the three had attacked earlier.
You have to try anything to know. The road not taken is forever unknown.
So, he did his best not for yesterday, but for today, for tomorrow. That was all Sachsen did.

‘What I learned from the captain.’

You could say I did as I was taught.
I left four knights with my captain and killed the dwarf fairy who should have been killed long ago. My left arm was now wrapped tightly in something resembling a bandage.
Anne had painstakingly crafted a bandage containing a blood coagulant and painkiller. She even had the luxury of wrapping it while fighting Venom.

“Let’s get started now.”

The madman Saxon spoke and looked at Pustis. A dizzying sensation washed over Pustis. It was dizzying. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down. It was the repercussions of failing to gauge an opponent with insight.

“Poo-s-ti-s!”

Baric, the captain’s shout woke him up.

“There are two of them. Just kill them and that’s it.”

Even as his reason clouded by instinct, the captain spoke. No, he shouted. The will embedded in his shout remained unshaken. Only one Venom was killed. That was what the captain wanted to say.

“Yes, I know.”

Pustis, who had seen through it, answered. He quickly regained his composure. He wasn’t a member of the Knights for nothing.

“Longarm, don’t let your guard down. They’re skilled in the art of assassination.”

He continues. It’s a duet of composure and equanimity.
Do you have the knack of deceiving a knight’s senses? Then what about an opponent who broadens his horizons and holds firm?
If you prepare, you’ll have enough time to react. Even if you’re skilled in assassination techniques, it’ll be like that.
They’re not called disasters for nothing.

“If I just kill that swordsman, the situation will be the same.”

Barod spoke. He was right. Pustis caught his breath. After all, the fight is fleeting. When it’s over, life and death are simply divided.
So if you don’t want to die, fight; if you don’t want to die, you struggle. Didn’t he survive until now because he knew this principle?
Sachsen slowly took three steps back, catching his breath. His thin, long breaths were inaudible to anyone. He took a deep breath, then began to walk.
His figure faded into thin air like a mirage, vanishing.

‘What kind of talent is that?’

Longarm saw that and muttered to himself. He concentrated without blinking.
Even the most skilled assassin couldn’t kill a knight who was prepared and determined. He repeated the words he’d just learned. Then, Longarm’s senses returned to normal.

‘They’ll target me, who’s left alone.’

Will was young in his eyes. His determination shone with strength.

‘I survive today too.’

The Mud Knights are particularly adept at fighting in times of crisis. They are, after all, the ones who survive by wielding their inherent survival instincts.
When transformed, Baric’s reasoning becomes clouded. His instincts for murder and destruction take over.

‘The limits of the cursed beast.’

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think so. Yet, he survived, broke through his limitations, and reached the present. And now, Baric has surpassed his limits once again.

‘The vision is clear.’

When he transforms, his surroundings usually appear crimson, but not today.
No, to be precise, it did at first, but once he interacted with that swordsman, he came to his senses. The heightened spirit awakened his reason. The crisis propelled him to a new level.

‘If you act clumsy, you die.’

I don’t want to die. I’ll overcome this day. My body feels lighter than ever, and my hands and feet are filled with strength. My spirit is lifted, and my body is affected.

“Are you a mad knight?”

Baric asked. His opponent had shifted his stance, holding his sword at his side. His blue eyes, set against his black hair, were striking. Their color was clearly visible. His opponent’s jaw shifted slightly, barely visible, as he opened his mouth. It seemed as if he was preparing to counter his opponent’s attack, if he were to interrupt his words. He was a truly thorough brat.

“Encred of the Mad Knights.”
“I will remember that name.”

Of course, Barrick adopted the same stance. Even as he opened his mouth and spoke, his breathing and posture remained steady. He was fully prepared to react if his opponent attacked.
The conversation was brief, as they were no longer in a position to discuss further.
Barod, a master of shield-wielding, was aware of his surroundings and wrapped his entire body in Will. It was a skill he had developed after observing his commander’s transformation. Based on a shield, he covered his entire body in a shell harder than iron armor.

‘The armor of the silent one.’

Will responds with his shield and body. He even studied some of the giants’ skills for this purpose.
He became a chariot impervious to even the most formidable swordsmanship. This skill was perfected while fighting monsters rivaling those of a true knight.

‘Ogre.’

It was a monster larger than a giant. What was its strength like? A giant tree was snapped and uprooted with a careless swing of the hand. It was a monster that wielded the uprooted tree as a club.
Its armor was a skill that could not be broken even by such a monstrous force.