A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“You still have a chance. Come under me. I will grant you what you desire.”

The voice—though its source was unclear—pierced everyone’s ears like a nail. It was the alchemist Drmul speaking. A subtle, sweet scent floated in the air, possibly from a spell, but only Enkrid seemed to perceive it.

“Give up, Tempe. Like Drmul said, what can two swordsmen and a girl even do?”

Heskal spoke as he raised his left hand. From behind, another wave of monsters slithered forth.

Then he raised his right hand—more monsters emerged.

‘He’s divided them by type.’

Enkrid’s gaze shifted left and right.

It was already strange that the monsters were arrayed like a disciplined army—but now it «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» was clear they were divided by division.

The ones that came when Heskal raised his left hand were Scalers mounted on lizard beasts. These lizards flicked their tongues through the pouring rain, streams running down the bridge of their snouts. Their raised brows formed deep gullies at the center of their foreheads, turning the water into visible rivulets.

In the chaos of the storm, the color distinctions were hard to make out, but the lizards’ scales—while dark—weren’t entirely black.

There were easily over three hundred of them.

Despite having no reins, the Scalers sat firmly atop the lizards. It didn’t seem likely they’d fall off or be injured by any reckless movement. Their skulls weren’t fragile, and if they didn’t have the confidence to ride and fight, they wouldn’t even try.

Heskal betrayed Zaun, not his own head. In other words, he hadn’t become a fool.

‘There are too many.’

The monster army was nearing two thousand in number.

More shapes shifted slowly up the gently sloping path. The monsters would keep coming. Even without a knight’s insight, that much was obvious.

To Enkrid’s right, there were over three hundred more Scalers and Owlbears, crouched and waiting.

‘He hid them well.’

Likely Heskal’s doing. He was known for manipulating information.

Even those approaching from below were organized. Their movements weren’t random—they were formation-based.

If the instructor who trained them had been a human or an intelligent species, Enkrid vowed to ask about their methods before killing them.

It was an impressive sight.

As he watched those shadowy lumps move through the storm, Enkrid noticed that some of the ones on the right had membranous wings, similar to a bat’s.

‘Can they fly? They probably can.’

Those wings weren’t for decoration. Imagining it so, the creatures’ bodies suddenly looked much lighter.

If flight was their goal, then perhaps their bones were hollow—monsters engineered for aerial mobility?

Enkrid took in the entire army and checked the position of his allies. He calculated their distance from the enemy and evaluated their total strength.

He stored everything he needed for battle in his mind.

“The flow of battle is organic. Even elite troops can’t predict all variables in combat. Of course, there are those who do calculate everything—people like King Eyeball. But not even Kraiss could predict every detail of a battlefield.”

Lua Gharne had said that while teaching tactical thought.

“But in battles that include me, I can do something close to it,”

she’d continued.

“That’s how I can kill enemies stronger than myself.”

That was the kind of confidence she exuded.

Was it wrong to win without relying purely on skill? In a fight to win, did that even matter?

“Not at all.”

Enkrid muttered under his breath, calculations racing in his head.

Lua Gharne’s talent was rare across the continent. Enkrid acknowledged it. The more he learned from her, the more he understood that.

“I am Frokk, a challenger who has decided to exceed my limits.”

Her words echoed through his mind.

Her battles began with tactics. And tactics began with deception.

What Heskal had shown was no different. He had hidden his strength. Drmul had been within expectations, but the rest was not.

The military formation of monsters was entirely unexpected.

This would be a battle of many versus many.

What Zaun needed now was a unified flow to control their scattered forces.

“Feel the flow. Enki, you can do it. You’ve already led a battlefield through intuition before, haven’t you?”

Yes. He’d stopped Azpen’s army with an invisible wall. That time, too, it was intuition that moved him. This moment was no different.

KRAANG.

The wrath of the gods cracked through the sky.

BOOM!

Lightning scorched the earth.

The storm intensified once more.

In Enkrid’s vision, even the raindrops split apart.

One of his minds registered the situation. The other calculated.

This was a variant of the Wavebreaker Sword Style.

Thanks to his training with Jaxon, his senses had developed beyond the five. Now, intuition activated.

It tore through his thoughts and gave him the answer:

What to do.

What flow to establish.

How to win.

‘How do we win?’

The enemy had injured Zaun’s veterans—to break their formation. So what they needed now was formation—a shape that wouldn’t collapse.

Hwoo—!

Enkrid took a deep breath into his abdomen. Then he exhaled.

As the air passed his vocal cords, Will mixed into his voice.

“GAJU—! FROM THAT POSITION—! WALL—!”

Short and powerful words. Would they understand? If not, they’d ask.

The family head didn’t turn around. From Enkrid’s view, he saw only the back of the man’s head—but he answered with action.

TONG!

He thrust his sword into the ground, drawing a line.

“The rain will kindly fill the moat for us.”

He even cracked a joke.

He meant: He was the wall—and the line drawn by his sword was the moat.

No monster here would dare cross it.

The family head spoke with his back.

“WE ARE—”

“ZAUN—!”

“FOLLOWERS OF THE PATH OF THE SWORD—!”

“SEEKERS!”

Riley led the chant. Another soldier joined in. Kata shouted, and a nineteen-year-old girl—a genius of Zaun—finished the line.

No matter what came now, they would not waver.

Such was the wall the family head erected. It was more than what Enkrid asked for.

Still, it wasn’t enough. One man couldn’t stop a wave of monsters.

He was the center pillar.

Enkrid raised his right hand to his mouth and shouted:

“Alexandra! Ten paces to the right of the Family Head!

Lynox! How well can you fight?”

“You’re asking me how well I can fight? Cut the arrogance. I was wielding a sword before you were even born.”

“Just because you’ve done it long doesn’t mean you’re good at it.”

He even tossed in a joke.

Why joke while blood boiled? It was just like the Family Head. A joke before battle to loosen stiff shoulders.

‘To boost morale.’

Of course it was deliberate.

‘Next, read the enemy’s flow.’

Then guide it—trap the battlefield in your own design.

Enkrid’s intuition buzzed. Lightning cracked through his mind.

“Anahera! You may go wild!”

At Enkrid’s call, the restraints on the Beast of Red Blood were broken.

“Hahaha!”

Usually, Anahera held back her giant instincts. If she hadn’t, she’d have killed many around her.

But on a battlefield filled with enemies—there was no need for restraint.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

The giant raced forward, feet pounding the wet earth. Mud splashed up in great arcs.

As the fan-shaped mudfall returned to the ground, Anahera collided with the front line of monsters.

It was the front of the lizard-mounted cavalry.

From above, it looked like a mad giant charging into the enemy ranks alone.

“Intercept her!”

Someone on Heskal’s side shouted.

Several arrows flew.

They weren’t arced—they were point-blank, direct shots from hidden archers.

Thwick! Pluck! Tong!

Some glanced off her thick skin. One struck her head—but bounced off the metal helmet.

Only one arrow pierced her arm—and even that was soon shaken free.

Her tough, thick hide repelled most arrows.

Those trapped in Zaun had forgotten that.

Enkrid realized: The Hunter’s Village was the enemy. And among them, surely a sharpshooter existed?

Of course.

But could even they pierce a giant’s flesh?

Several archers paused mid-draw—panic spreading through the enemy ranks.

Anahera reached the Scaler on the lizard.

The lizard opened its jaws, revealing saw-like teeth. The Scaler atop it reversed his grip on a dark-stained short spear and stabbed.

Enkrid didn’t see it—but Anahera grinned, twisting her lips, then swung her sword.

She was a giant—but never forgot she was also Zaun’s sword.

Thus, what she unleashed was Zaun’s swordsmanship.

FWOOOOOM.

Her left foot sank into the earth. With a step, she brought her sword down vertically—infused with Will.

It was a heavy crescent slash.

CRAAACK!

The harmony of giant strength and Will split the lizard and its rider down the middle.

SPLOOSH!

Black blood splattered over her helmet—but was quickly washed away by the rain.

“KILL THEM AAAALL!”

The giant roared at the sky.

Was all this planned?

No. Enkrid was simply following his intuition.

“Kato! Follow and protect Anahera’s rear!”

Enkrid turned his head left and right.

Monsters were charging at the Family Head.

‘If I were Heskal, I’d use the monsters to wear us down first.’

A tactic a human army couldn’t easily employ—

But for a monster army, there was no reason not to.

Monsters knew no fear. If you could wear down the enemy, it was a net gain.

Was this also part of Enkrid’s plan?

Not at all. He had raised the wall on instinct—to reduce casualties.

Scalers on lizards. Black scales mixed with red ones. Owlbears with steel feathers. Flying beasts above.

Monsters charged in formation.

And they were met by just three:

The Family Head, Alexandra, and Lynox.

Only three?

No—three was plenty.

Knights are disasters. They cut down thousands.

They too could do it.

Anahera rampaged. Kato guarded her back.

Enkrid left them alone. They weren’t suited for group battles.

Anahera needed to fight without restraint, turning instinct into power.

‘Kato hides weapons all over his body.’

He was at his best surrounded by enemies.

He had trained like that—fighting whole groups while traveling village to village.

Eventually, he honed his current style.

Some people are built for real combat, not sparring. Kato was exactly that.

Enkrid deployed them first to break the enemy lines.

Attacking before the enemy charges always disrupts formation.

That was true even if the monsters’ grandfathers were charging.

The front lines were now entangled in chaos.

Enkrid’s plan had worked. Heskal withdrew the unengaged monsters, reformed their ranks, and flanked.

‘He’s smart.’

Yes, Heskal was smart. Enkrid felt it anew.

But he fought with his head. Enkrid fought with intuition.

So there was no need for panic.

The enemy had seen through the intent? Then just respond to the next move.

The enemy’s aim was clear:

“Our side fights alone. Theirs fights in formation.”

Zaun had lost many seasoned veterans.

But in their place stood a commander who had crawled up from the mud, forged by endless battles in the Border Guard.

A man trained in tactics by the challenger Frokk—Lua Gharne.