A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“You’re lucky.”

One of the soldiers watching the duel spoke. He was also a former mercenary.

He was one of those who had grumbled to Encrid during the recent reward ceremony.

With a scowl on his face, he stepped forward.

“Not tired yet? How about one more round?”

To be promoted, one must be recognized by three intermediate soldiers or defeat three of them.

Facing just one wasn’t enough.

“Uh, Squad Leader?”

Big Eyes glanced around nervously. The atmosphere was tense, with the opponent growling.

Encrid looked at the fallen soldier with questioning eyes.

Is this right?

With just one trip, the match was decided.

The fallen soldier got up, clutching his wrist.

“You’re a lucky bastard.”

The soldier, holding his wrist, retreated, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes from the pain.

It must hurt a lot.

But it didn’t seem bad enough to cry over.

Encrid turned his gaze. It was toward the second opponent. Looking at him, Encrid assumed his stance.

“I’m not tired.”

“Alright, then this time I’ll be your opponent.”

Encrid briefly reviewed the previous fight in his mind.

‘Luck was on my side.’

The soldier had been too defenseless as he fell. He hadn’t thought to protect himself.

He hadn’t expected to be taken down at all.

‘Why?’

The reason for his carelessness was underestimating his opponent.

But can a match be decided just by a light kick?

Does that even make sense?

I don’t know. Then I’ll just have to try again.

The opponent pulled out a spear.

The infantry battalion stationed at the Border Guard consisted of two main types of soldiers.

One was light infantry, and the other was heavy infantry.

Using a spear as a weapon was a characteristic of the heavy infantry.

These were infantry soldiers whom the Border Guard had invested heavily in, training them with Krona.

Their status was different from that of the light infantry. As such, even as intermediate soldiers, they were better trained and more skilled.

The opponent aimed a short spear for individual combat and began spinning the spearhead.

Encrid didn’t let his gaze be drawn to it.

“When fighting, keep the opponent’s entire body in your sight.”

That was Ragna’s advice. Encrid adhered to it.

Whoosh.

The spearhead aimed for his side. It was a swift thrust, like a hawk targeting its prey.

‘Too slow.’

But compared to the thrusting maniac he’d faced earlier today, it was slow.

The trajectory was clear, and it was avoidable.

Encrid shifted his stance, pivoting on his left foot and adjusting his body’s centerline, instantly showing his wit. Not only did he dodge the spear, but he also trapped it by his side.

When the spear was suppressed with a thud, the opponent pulled it back.

Encrid jumped forward, matching the force pulling him.

“Huh!”

The soldier, who expected Encrid to resist, gasped when Encrid instead rushed forward with the spear.

Startled, the soldier raised his left arm from his two-handed grip on the spear to guard.

Encrid feigned a thrust at the opponent’s eyes with his sword, then extended his foot to trip the opponent’s shin.

With his right foot hooking the shin, Encrid extended his left foot forward, twisted his hips, and drove his shoulder into the opponent’s chest.

Thud.

With a heavy thud and a cracking sound, the opponent fell to the side.

There was no need to aim his sword.

Encrid simply looked down from above.

The soldier from the 1st Platoon of the 1st Company, heavy infantry, looked up at Encrid from the ground.

To him, the Troublesome Squad Leader’s body seemed twice as large as it had when they first faced each other.

This was due to the psychological pressure of being overpowered.

‘Damn.’

Even though he was breathless from being hit so hard, he cursed the Troublemaker Squad Leader who had bested him.

Of course, that included cursing himself as well.

‘What is the lowest level?’

Encrid looked down at him and asked,

“More?”

“No, no, let’s stop.”

The second intermediate soldier withdrew, and it was time for the third intermediate soldier to step forward.

“Idiots.”

One of the soldiers who had been watching Encrid’s promotion match muttered.

It was Andrew.

The same Andrew who had carried out the scouting mission with Encrid.

Andrew had judged that Encrid had already surpassed the intermediate level back then, but now he fought even better.

Something had happened in the meantime that had refined his swordsmanship.

Andrew praised himself for betting all his Krona on Encrid.

At the same time, he wondered who would win if he were to fight Encrid now. He had been diligently training as well.

Mac, who was standing right next to him, spoke as he watched Andrew.

“What on earth happened to that guy?”

“Why?”

“His skills have improved tremendously.”

“By how much?”

Seeing Andrew’s expression as he spoke, Mac shook his head.

“He’s different from before.”

After the previous scouting mission, Mac had told Andrew that if he wanted to properly challenge the Troublesome Squad Leader, he should gather his resolve and gain more experience.

But now he had to retract those words.

“If I fight him now, it will be difficult. It will be difficult for me too.”

Mac was an exceptionally skilled swordsman, capable of evaluating Andrew’s swordsmanship. For him to say it would be difficult was significant.

Andrew nodded. This was how it should be.

After all, this was the person who had knocked him down with one blow.

And for the first time in his life, he felt a natural desire to follow someone.

Off to the side, Vengeance was also watching the duel.

He had just finished his duty and was on his way back when he noticed the commotion in the corner of the training ground, where the dueling area made of soft earth was located.

“What’s going on?”

One of his subordinates explained the situation. Vengeance watched the duel, holding his spear at his side with his helmet hanging from the spear’s end.

Encrid had fought twice and had taken down his opponents twice.

It sounded easy when put into words, but anyone with a keen eye could see the truth.

‘If that’s luck.’

It would be as if the goddess of luck had been reincarnated as a man.

The third opponent was hesitant to step forward.

Krais finally realized that his Squad Leader fought better than expected. He was sharp enough to notice.

So he pointed out the third opponent himself.

“You there, 2nd Platoon? How about a match?”

Krais could be a bold provocateur if he had nothing to lose and something to gain.

If necessary, he would even provoke his opponent to draw them out.

“Me?”

The number of onlookers had increased significantly. Stepping forward only to get beaten wasn’t an appealing prospect.

“Who else would I mean? You seemed confident enough when talking behind my back, calling him a male prostitute and all.”

Krais sneered at his opponent.

At this point, the third soldier couldn’t refuse.

“Spit, fine, I’ll do it.”

The foul-mouthed soldier spat on the ground and stepped forward.

Standing on the soft earth, he faced Encrid. Encrid had just finished reviewing his second fight.

‘I’ve only had tough fights.’

This opponent seemed too easy. Rem and the other squad members often complained about the soldier ranking system being a mess.

“Can all intermediate soldiers be the same? Even the higher ranks are somewhat useful, but the disparity is too great. And do you think the outcome of a life-or-death battle is decided solely by skill? There are plenty of guys on the continent who, despite lacking skill, use their wits to kill their opponents.”

That was Rem’s opinion. Still, to gain recognition here, one had to rise through the soldier ranking system.

‘If not that, then stand above the ranking system itself.’

Those who stand above the ranking system.

They are the masters of the Red Cape.

The Border Guard is stationed with two battalions.

They take turns being dispatched to Green Pearl for rotational duty, so usually, one battalion and a reserve force are stationed in the city.

The unit currently stationed in the city is the 1st Battalion, to which Encrid belongs.

Half of the 2nd Battalion is out in the field in the Green Pearl plains. Even if not fighting the enemy, it is their duty to hold the fort.

Taking turns guarding through the winter each year is the role of the Border Guard’s standing army.

In a city with barely ten thousand people, there are two infantry battalions and a royal direct unit.

Although it was the first time a member of the Red Cape Knights participated directly in the battlefield, occasionally, knights from the order were dispatched.

All this is possible because the Border Guard is a direct dominion of the kingdom.

In the past, when relations with Aspen were good, the Border Guard was a trade city where various goods, including spices, were stored.

After Aspen started its invasion wars, this place transformed into a military and fortress city.

The low walls were built up, and watchtowers were erected.

The three watchtowers symbolized Naurillia keeping an eye on Aspen.

Because of this, most of the troops stationed within the unit were highly skilled.

Although it was a border town, it was a gathering place for forces seasoned by repeated battles.

That was the strength of the Border Guard.

So, even the soldier before him should be seen as having considerable skill.

For this reason, no opponent should be taken lightly.

At the beginning of this battle, it was the same. This place was filled with those more than capable of challenging Encrid.

“Were you daydreaming?”

The opponent asked.

“No.”

Encrid was startled but immediately shook his head.

Do not underestimate your opponent.

This was a phrase countless swordsmanship instructors had said.

To honor those words, he pondered the past of the city, which had become a strategic point.

Do not underestimate, they said, a phrase that once seemed unrelatable.

‘Who can I afford to underestimate?’

But now, he had to steel himself to keep those words in mind.

He didn’t feel like laughing. He was simply content.

It was a joy separate from the pleasure of growth.

Proving and displaying his skills.

That brought Encrid joy.

“What’s so amusing?” the opponent asked again. Encrid realized he had a faint smile on his face.

“Fighting is fun.”

“You’re crazy.”

The opponent, after catching his breath, charged. He brought his sword down vertically. Encrid watched the trajectory of the swinging sword and moved accordingly.

He gathered strength from the foot planted on the ground, through his knee, and to his waist. With that momentum, he struck the opponent’s sword with his own.

Clang!

A sharp metallic sound rang out.

The opponent’s chest was exposed. When Encrid pulled back his sword and feigned a thrust, the opponent attempted to draw his arms back into a defensive position.

Encrid merely feigned the thrust and raised his sword tip while closing the distance.

Then, looking into the startled opponent’s eyes, he locked blades, extended his left foot to hook the opponent’s heel, and pushed forward with strength in his sword hand.

The opponent managed to bring his sword to his chest just in time.

With the blades locked together, the opponent couldn’t use his sword for an attack. The soldier was helplessly caught.

Thud.

Tripped by the hook, the opponent fell. He had no means to resist and landed hard on his backside.

Encrid placed the blade on the fallen opponent’s crown.

Everything had happened in an instant.

And with these three fights, Encrid had truly demonstrated his skill.

The fallen soldier looked up, his eyes widening as he saw the sword placed above his head.

“…I lost,” the soldier admitted.

Naurillia had always revered the strong. It wasn’t called the country of knights for nothing.

Andrew and Mac as well.

Vengeance, who had been watching from behind.

The Fairy Company Commander, who had come to watch at some point.

Rem, Ragna, and the other troublesome squad members.

Even the soldiers who had once insulted Encrid behind his back.

No one spoke.

The sunlight slanted down, reflecting off the blade and illuminating half of Encrid’s face. The light shone on his face, casting long shadows and creating a white mist rising from his shoulders in the cold air.

All these elements created a strange illusion.

It seemed as if Encrid had emerged from the center of the battlefield, tearing through the flagpole that served as the medium for the spell.

The fact they had all denied and pushed away now became a reality etched in their minds.

The one who had shattered the spell of the Fog of Annihilation was the person who had saved them.

“Unbelievable.”

Someone murmured. That was an acknowledgment.

They could criticize him when they were unaware of his skills, but now they couldn’t.

Acting foolishly was only temporary.

The soldier who had lost the second fight spoke.

“I spoke out of line. I apologize.”

Encrid silently nodded. After all, the Border Guard’s standing army was full of people like this.

A tough unit that could not tolerate standing before someone without skill.

That was the army of the Border Guard, the Sword of the Frontier.

Conversely, they would respect anyone who proved themselves through skill.

Encrid had proven himself by overwhelming the intermediate soldiers.

“Spellbreaker.”

Someone murmured. There was no cheer. The atmosphere wasn’t right for that. But it seemed likely that this would become his nickname.

Spellbreaker, it was an excessive title.

Encrid thought so, and after a brief moment of considering what to do next, he spoke.

“It looks like it’s time to face a superior soldier.”

He had taken down three intermediate soldiers with just one trip.

So, what’s left now?

What’s left is clear.

A superior soldier remains.

Thinking about fighting again in this situation?

Krais widened his already large eyes even more, thinking that their Squad Leader was truly unstoppable.

So, should they arrange another fight now?

As he pondered this,

“Whistle.”

Someone whistled and stepped forward. The soldier who stepped forward smiled plainly and said,

“Interesting.”

The soldier wore an epaulet with an eagle emblem. The emblem indicated that he was a member of the royal direct unit, the Frontier Guard.

It was a unit as famous as the Gray Hound, the independent company of Aspen.

They were known as the Frontier Slaughterers, a nickname given to the most ferocious unit within the already rough and tough Border Guard.

The total strength was two hundred, but as a royal direct unit, all members were advanced soldiers or higher.

The one who stepped forward was one of them.

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