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A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 147 · Oct 14, 2026

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117 Chapter 117 2026-10-14
118 Chapter 118 2026-10-14
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120 Chapter 120 2026-10-14
121 Chapter 121 2026-10-14
122 Chapter 122 2026-10-14
123 Chapter 123 2026-10-14
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128 Chapter 128 2026-10-14
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133 Chapter 133 2026-10-14
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136 Chapter 136 2026-10-14
137 Chapter 137 2026-10-14
138 Chapter 138 2026-10-14
139 Chapter 139 2026-10-14
140 Chapter 140 2026-10-14
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142 Chapter 142 2026-10-14
143 Chapter 143 2026-10-14
144 Chapter 144 2026-10-14
145 Chapter 145 2026-10-14
146 Chapter 146 2026-10-14
147 Chapter 147 2026-10-14
148 Chapter 148 2026-10-14
149 Announcement! 2026-10-14
150 Chapter 149 2026-10-14

“Why aren’t they here?”

The special unit from the Duchy of Aspen, which included three junior Knights, couldn’t find any trace of the enemy.

Shouldn’t there be an army guarding the rear around here?

Or at least some kind of trace or something.

Aren’t they supposed to be heading toward the Cross Guard? So, why aren’t they here?

There’s not even a scout unit checking our movements.

Typically, before a serious fight, scout units meet, exchange some insults, maybe shoot some arrows, and then clash.

We need to encounter them to engage, and we’ve even diverted some of our forces for that.

No less than three junior Knights.

It means they pulled some members from the knight order.Even though they have a Giant and a few special forces on their side.

At this level, it’s a significant diversion of the main force.

So, they needed to fight. They needed to fight, but…

Crunch, crunch.

Pebbles scattered under the feet of the commander.

There’s nothing. The only thing we saw on the way were a few ghouls coming out of the riverbank?

Maybe traces of a camp from about three days ago?

“What about the Hawk’s Eyes?”

“Lost contact.”

Meanwhile, the guerrilla unit that was supposed to monitor this area and join up has disappeared too?

“Do you think they’re dead?”

The junior Knight, who was also the commander, asked.

The lieutenant hesitated before speaking.

“Yes. It seems that way.”

What do you mean, it seems that way?

They’re all dead.

The commander thought. So, should we attack the rear?

If we do, what will happen?

Will they go wild like a horse with its tail on fire?

I’m curious about Naurillia’s reaction.

At that moment, someone spoke.

“Signal fires have been lit!”

A sharp-eyed messenger came running and reported.

He had just crossed the mountain. The commander turned his gaze back. It was in the direction of the main force.

When are signal fires lit? When the main force is in danger.

So, what does it mean that they’ve lit the signal fires now?

“Return.”

The commander didn’t hesitate. It was a decisive move.

Thanks to rejoining the main force quickly, they avoided annihilation.

After joining Marcus’s infantry, Encrid rarely spoke.

The soldiers glanced at the Madmen Platoon but didn’t easily strike up a conversation.

“You’re here?”

At most, Vengeance would come and mutter a few words.

Encrid nodded briefly and walked. As he walked, he thought, and as he continued to think, he sank deeper into his thoughts, reflecting on the fight.

‘I couldn’t use the Sense of Evasion.’

The Heart of the Beast also required a long preparation to unleash.

He fought as if piecing together everything he had.

‘Plant the left hand on the opponent’s head, cut with the right hand.’

The foundation was ‘showing in advance’ and the Heart of the Beast.

He did feel exhilaration in the fight itself. Some of the methods of using two swords worked.

So what next?

It was reflection. He revisited the fight in his mind. Just because it was a won battle, does it mean there is nothing to learn? No, there’s always something to learn.

Crunch, crunch.

The unit, crossing the gravel field, headed straight to the rear of the main force.

The march continued like this.

After three days of eating, walking, and sleeping on repeat, they finally reached the allied camp where they were originally stationed.

Of course, whether or not the camp appeared was irrelevant to Encrid.

He was too busy reflecting and reflecting again.

He didn’t see or hear what was happening around him.

‘Basic skills.’

How was the mustached man’s swordsmanship? It was faithful to the basics. Sharp and delicate. Heavy and swift.

It changed as much as necessary at the right moment.

It’s the difference in basic skills.

Is winning or losing the problem?

Of course, that’s an issue too. It was a fight where losing meant dying.

It would be pointless to intentionally lose a fight that could be won.

Always do your best.

Stand firm, even if it’s just half a step.

For a better tomorrow than today.

Winning didn’t eliminate the yearning and thirst.

Did he think it was over just because he had mastered the basics?

‘Was I being arrogant?’

Is this something that happens in life?

Looking back at the past, where he was just struggling to survive, this was unimaginable.

Encrid reflected. It was only natural to hone the basics.

Just look at training in The Isolation Technique.

It’s repetition every day. Repeating the same actions.

Whether it’s Valaf-Style Martial Arts, Correct Sword Technique, or The Path of Magic.

‘Refinement and swift recovery.’ whatever it may be, basics, and basics again.

As soon as he thought that, he couldn’t resist. His hands itched, his heart raced, and his skin tingled.

Even though they were still marching.

Shing.

He drew his sword. Then, vertically straight and proper, like a masterpiece honed and polished, his sword strike.

It was a top-down strike, just like the mustached man’s.

Swish.

In the middle of walking, he suddenly struck.

One might have said something, but it was Encrid who did it.

“What’s this? An ambush? Oh, is it Platoon Leader Encrid?”

“Isn’t he a bit, you know?”

One soldier twirled his finger around his ear.

“Crazy Platoon Leader?”

“Yeah, let’s just keep going.”

Everyone just let it slide.

This wasn’t the first time something like this happened.

Moreover, no one was unaware of the Madmen Platoon’s remarkable performance in the previous battlefield.

They were almost seen as heroes.

There was a mix of admiring and respectful glances.

‘They are so obsessed with training.’

Is that why they fight so well?

Such thoughts lingered in the soldiers’ minds.

Even the surrounding squad leader-level commanders left them alone. Perhaps there were special instructions from Battalion Commander Marcus.

It was clear to anyone that they were being treated specially.

Exempted from all duties, exempted from mess duty.

These were among the reasons.

Everyone just looked the other way.

The Madmen Platoon members themselves didn’t particularly care about the surrounding gazes.

Ragna watched his Platoon leader, who suddenly swung his sword, and thought.

He had something to say when they returned, but now it seemed pointless.

“Get back to mastering the basics.”

He had demonstrated Severance, but he hadn’t even started teaching yet.

What needed to be built up for that, what needed to be reiterated.

Would it become a wall of despair, or a new milestone?

It needed to be told and shown.

There was much to say. Often, after improving their skills, people forget certain things.

He intended to remind him of such things.

Ragna pondered deeply.

What does his Platoon leader need right now?

After much thought, he gathered his words.

Clatter.

The gravel field was coming to an end. Ragna stopped walking.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

And he muttered.

The Platoon leader didn’t need nagging. He reflects and fills in what’s lacking on his own. That’s just the kind of person he is.

Ragna felt a tingling sensation throughout his body as he muttered to himself.

The things he quickly forgot, the things he overlooked, the things he didn’t even feel the need to reflect on.

He builds them up one by one. He uses them as cornerstones. That’s what the Platoon leader did.

Ragna felt a flame of motivation igniting in his heart again.

It seemed absurd, but…

Seeing his Platoon leader made him want to swing his sword.

“Has he gone crazy? What is correct?”

It was Rem walking beside him. The crazy barbarian tilted his head and spoke.

“Heh, were you offering a prayer alone? Did the Lord respond?”

On the other side, the big religious man also joined the conversation.

Ragna didn’t want to reply. He didn’t want to ruin his good mood.

But Rem was persistent.

Audin was diligent.

“Hey, what’s right? Did a ghost get into your head? Hey, big guy. Shouldn’t you do something about this? Huh? Don’t you have a punch to get rid of ghosts?”

“Heh, brother, possession doesn’t happen so easily. Especially in a disciplined unit like this, it’s rare. I think he was praying. So, what did the Lord say?”

I wish they’d just go away.

Ragna’s wish quickly turned into murderous intent.

‘Should I just cut them all down?’

The sudden burst of killing intent made both Rem and Audin react simultaneously.

“Hey, are you planning to leave your head here? Need help?”

“Brother, are you upset because you didn’t receive the Lord’s answer? If that’s the case, sweating it out might not be a bad idea.”

When the killing intent surfaces, they fight. It was almost like a rule in the Madmen Platoon.

Of course, Encrid could stop them, but he was currently lost in his own world.

Clang.

Ragna drew his sword and swung it.

Rem reacted too.

Bang!

The axe and sword met, sparks flying, and the killing intent spread between Ragna and Rem.

Audin, who was on the other side, couldn’t just stand still. Ragna didn’t just watch him.

Using the rebound from hitting Rem’s axe, Ragna slashed at Audin’s chest.

Audin stepped back, deflecting the blade with his palm, a high-level skill.

Rem, Ragna, and Audin.

It was amazing how they could do such things without thinking much of it.

Soon the three of them were engaged.

Watching from the side, Jaxon thought they were all fools.

His eyes naturally shifted from the three to his Platoon leader.

He had a bit of dissatisfaction.

The Sense of Evasion, he seemed to know how to do it, but is it hard to improve body coordination?

It’s not easy, definitely not easy.

But doesn’t this seem a bit unfair?

He learned the Heart of the Beast so quickly, why is the Sense of Evasion slower?

Is he paying less attention? Putting less effort into my technique?

“It’s annoying.”

Jaxon muttered to himself, but no one responded.

The three were too busy fighting.

Andrew and Mac, not wanting to get caught up in the fight, moved away.

Finn was busy questioning whether this platoon was functioning properly.

Only Krais was accustomed to it and did his job.

He received orders through the Fairy Company Commander in place of the Platoon leader.

“Why you?” the Company Commander complained unnecessarily.

“If you interfere at times like this, both the Platoon leader and the members get upset, and it turns into chaos.” Krais explained.

“More chaotic than now?”

Encrid was walking and swinging his sword alone.

The other three were busy fighting.

Jaxon remained stoic, sensing that it wouldn’t be wise to intervene right now.

Hmm, it’s chaotic enough already, though.

“Yes, even more than now.” Krais said with confidence.

If we try to stop them, it’ll get worse.

He knew this from experience.

“I see. The main force is returning.” the Company Commander said, sticking to the main point without making unnecessary jokes or comments.

Krais, feeling mischievous, asked, “You want our Platoon leader, don’t you?”

The Company Commander looked at Krais. The Fairy’s green eyes were like jewels completing an inhumanly beautiful face.

Like jewels, they were expressionless, and it was impossible for Krais to read any emotion from them.

However, he did sense something.

“Indeed.” the Company Commander replied, turning and walking away.

Krais shivered and rubbed his arms.

Then he waited for his Platoon leader to return to normal.

It was almost a whole day later, as they were stopping to prepare for camp, that Encrid finally stopped.

Does swinging a sword while walking actually help?

Krais had no idea.

Surprisingly, the fight between the three, including Rem, ended quickly.

Did they realize they wouldn’t finish the fight as they were?

Or maybe it wasn’t fun since the Platoon leader didn’t intervene.

Who knows? It’s not something Krais wanted to know.

“Captain.”

Encrid, sweating profusely, looked at Krais.

“We’re ordered to return to the city.”

“Hmm?”

Krais knew that his commander didn’t like long explanations. Although he felt like talking more, he knew it was best to keep it short and clear.

“It’s because our plan worked. When the enemy diverted part of their forces to the alternate route, the main force launched an assault.”

The essence of the plan Krais originally devised was simple.

The Madmen Platoon would attack from the rear.

They would draw in the unit known as the Hawk’s Eyes or whatever and wipe them out.

Meanwhile, Marcus’s battalion would pretend to advance towards the Cross Guard. Even just pretending was enough.

‘Already a losing battle.’

If he were the enemy commander, how would he feel?

Would he want to bear the shame of having the city attacked?

Maybe, maybe not.

Either way, there was nothing to lose.

Even just pretending gained a lot.

Krais’s goal was to ensure safety.

By pretending, it gave Marcus’s battalion a good excuse to return to their original position.

He considered distancing themselves from the enemy as a given.

As time passed, the variables decreased, and things fell into place as he had thought.

Of course, there were things that didn’t match Krais’s expectations at all.

For instance, the strength of the Madmen Platoon.

‘I knew they fought well, but…’

They fought exceptionally well.

As an independent platoon, as an elite unit, they might be even more impressive than the Slaughterers of the Frontier.

Later, they joined Marcus’s battalion.

Meanwhile, some forces, including the Knight order stationed in the Green Pearl plains, advanced.

This was slightly different from Krais’s expectation.

‘They’re advancing?’

Even if they ended it here, they would have expanded their territory and dealt a critical blow to Aspen.

They didn’t just advance and seize the advantage, they dealt a devastating blow.

It was a charge without a break, followed by a battle.

The difference in power was quite significant.

He heard it was an overwhelming victory.

Because of this, Marcus’s battalion and the Border Guard Reserve Unit were ordered to return to the city.

In case some of the enemy forces went mad and attacked the city, they needed an army to defend it.

Being a unit that had achieved merit, they likely wanted to give them some preferential treatment.

Instead of explaining all of this, Krais conveyed it simply and briefly.

“We’re ordered to go home.”

“Not bad.”

Did Encrid, the Platoon leader, understand all this?

He didn’t know. He’d explain it slowly later.

For now, they were allowed to go back.

Krais was quite satisfied with that.

Above all, a map he held close to his chest made him feel even warmer.

It was one of the treasures hidden by the enemy, and Krais knew instinctively.

‘This is real.’

Encrid also had no complaints about returning.

In fact, he was satisfied.

He had learned and gained a lot from the recent battle. He wanted to reflect on it all and engrave it into his body.

Therefore, he needed time.

As a slow learner, he knew he needed to struggle and push forward.

Encrid decided to do just that.

Yearning and thirst.

They burned within him, making it impossible to remain still.

‘But why does that guy…’

Encrid turned his gaze towards the occasional feeling of killing intent. It was Jaxon.

Whenever he was about to forget, he felt those piercing glances.

Jaxon seemed to have some complaint, but it didn’t seem like he would answer even if asked.

So, what could he do?

He had to let it be. Their complaints weren’t a new thing.

“We’re going back? You must be disappointed. Couldn’t see the Knights fight?” Rem chimed in sarcastically, and Encrid nodded.

“Disappointed, but…”

On the contrary, he didn’t really mind.

Clomp.

Matching his steps, Encrid looked at his hands.

His palms were full of calluses.

The weight of the two swords hung at his waist.

The armor draped over his body.

Mew.

The panther, which had returned at some point, walked alongside the platoon members.

Encrid was also walking.

And…

If he was confident in the path he was walking.

There was no need to check the destination.

“It’s fine.”

Encrid answered and lifted his head. The magic of spring spread, with the warm sunshine settling on his shoulders.

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