A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“Shit, fall back! Fall back! Get out of there, you fucker! Hey, pull back, back, back! You crazy spell-slinging bastards!”

It was the shout of the driving corps commander. Even the driving corps, whose job was to order an advance even if they had to point their spears at their own side’s backs, was in this state. It meant that was how rattled they were. How the hell did a swamp suddenly pop up out of nowhere?

At the commander’s words the unit fell back, but the swamp’s mist was faster than that. The mist covered a set area.

Whatever had been done to the mist, once you went into it you not only couldn’t see ahead, you were also tormented by hallucinations.

“Mom?”

“Rebecca, you’re dead.”

“Fuck, get away, get away from me!”

The unit stabbed one another. Blood splashed and chunks of flesh fell. For a unit suffering under brutal hallucinations, this was no time to be talking about morale. This was the time to be talking about survival.

The mist, clumped together like a living thing, floated along and swallowed up soldiers three or four at a time. It looked exactly like a monster made of mist eating people.

The one fortunate thing was that the mist arose only within a fixed area. Those with quick eyes and quick feet were slipping away just fine.

Naturally, all of this was the work of magic. A miracle barred the army. They were going through a spell like this for the first time. The commander slipped past the mist and threw a look forward.

It was enough to drive him insane, wondering why, when the knight order had gone out, this mist still hadn’t cleared.

“Huh? Huuhhh.”

Dodging one mist mass, a couple of soldiers fell into the swamp. Once your feet were caught like that, the slowly approaching mist would gobble you up in no time.

“Shit!”

One hot-tempered soldier shouted. The swamp, which had been arising as if spreading within a fixed area, suddenly punched little holes all over the ground like ankle snares.

‘Is this even something that makes sense?’

They said it was a spell, but it practically behaved like a living thing.

“God, damn it, has the world gone crazy for real?”

The commander shouted, voice full of suffocated frustration. Even so, the gaze went to those fighting up ahead. At this rate, this was where the commander would die too. But that didn’t mean they could just pull out at random.

Before leaving his position, the knight commander had ordered “wait, then advance.”

The knight order stood above the driving corps. Put simply, they had the authority to summarily execute all of them if they pulled any funny business.

So defying orders meant death. It was branded into their minds to the point of brainwashing. Which meant the commander had only one wish.

‘Hurry up and kill them all and get this over with.’

The five of the Mud Order of Knights needed to hurry up, finish the job, and come back. That was the only way to stay alive. Through the strangely scattered mist in the commander’s eyes, the fight of the knights could be seen.

The imbalance in numbers was obvious. It was enough to make you wonder why things had stalled over there.

Maybe that was why even the commander of the order had stepped in. Just a little more and they should hold out, right? It was when he was clutching that hope.

‘What is that?’

In his eyes, a lump dropped straight down from the sky. At a glance, it looked like a person.

The lump crashed down over the head of one of their own knights. The commander suddenly remembered seeing an eagle pounce on a deer when he was young.

Right now, an eagle with dark green wings had just invaded the battlefield. That was how it looked to him.

Only, this eagle used a sword and had arms and legs.

***

Jaxon spat out the poison and sprawled on the ground. His legs tingled. Because he had forced himself to move, the strain had gone to his muscles.

“I’ll buy a bit of time. See to it you don’t go and die on your own.”

Enkrid spoke without even looking back. Whatever the meaning, Jaxon couldn’t help smiling at what he said.

See to it you don’t go and die on your own, was it.

Well, he fully intended to honor those words. As a member of the Mad Order of Knights.

If someone had told the Jaxon from a few years ago that a day like this would come, Jaxon would have kindly put five pretty holes in the throat of the one saying it.

Now, he was happy to follow the captain’s orders.

No sooner had Enkrid spoken than, looking ahead, he opened his mouth again. It was before the enemy could even react, you could say. From appearance to attitude, he was the one setting the mood.

“Attention, everyone, we’ll now have a short break......”

Bang-! Boom!

Pustis of the Mud Order of Knights listened to what the opponent was saying, then dropped posture and swung the flail forward.

It wasn’t aimed at a precise point of impact; it was to block whatever came charging in. You could call it a hurried defense.

Surprised, and yet he had responded at once.

‘Talking in the middle then striking?’

Pustis thought as the attack was deflected. It was a deceptive sword he’d taken from the Valensic mercenary sword. Deceptive sword-forms were originally closer to tactics. Some punk who’d just appeared was utilizing that. And even doing it better than when Pustis used it themself.

‘Crazy bastard.’

Adjusting force, the bastard spewed out something utterly absurd. Suddenly calling for a break here, drawing all eyes for an instant, and then launching a charge that followed.

Paaang!

The sound of the flail cutting the air was crisp. That was because it didn’t hit anything.

‘This bastard?’

The bastard hadn’t even charged. That too was a feint. Feigning a rush, striking the ground with a foot, then only taking a single step and stopping. At the same time, the sword swept to the left. The left foot that stepped out became the first step perfect for swinging the sword.

The moment the foot stretched out, a blue line shot out, splitting the space. The roar burst from there.

It was a swing driven precisely toward a fellow knight. Having seen the sword coming for the knight, the obvious reaction came out. Swinging the sword, the knight took the attack.

Two swords that had ripped the air met and then parted. From the point where the two chunks of iron met, shock waves spread out in concentric circles.

Like a typhoon bearing down, wind slammed out in all directions and the cloak wrapped around the crazy bastard billowed.

Flutter-flap-flap-flap!

Had the cloak shrunk a little compared to earlier? When the newcomer had first appeared, it had gone beyond covering the body to reach down to the legs.

Hadn’t it looked just like wings?

When Enkrid had dropped from Odd-Eye’s back, he had spread the cloak and glided, riding the wind, but now it was unnecessary, so naturally it had shortened on its own.

Knight Longarm, whose sword had met the opponent’s, tapped at the ground and backed up two steps. It was a motion to disperse the shock.

Longarm furrowed the brow. Having taken the blow, that knight had no choice but to let the shock disperse, and yet the opponent was standing stock-still in place.

Even with a wound in the thigh, the difference was clear.

What did this exchange of blows just now have to say?

‘The difference in strength is blatant.’

Drawing on insight, Pustis judged that that monster was an opponent with brute strength on par with the unit commander.

“What did you ride in on?”

Longarm asked. Every one of them threw a glance up at the sky once. Up above, a winged horse was looking down at them. It looked like it was going to jump into things if anything set it off.

“A monster?”

Longarm muttered.

“A divine beast.”

Enkrid answered. The mood was one where the exchange of questions and answers seemed like it would go on for a while. Commander Barik knew how to make use of a mood like that.

Just before the opponent opened the mouth, strength had already gone into Barik’s legs. Power that began in the feet reached the knees and waist, traveled up through the body. Moving forward like that, Barik put force into the knife being swung.

The knife had a blade longer than a hand-span and a total length equal to the forearm of an average grown man. It had a single-edged blade and a shifted center of gravity, and as a weapon it was a knife that would cut and chop anything it caught. In Barik’s hand it looked like a short knife, but it wouldn’t be wrong to call it a falchion.

On top of that, the unique brute strength was poured into it with technique layered over. It wasn’t just a simple strength-based swing. Speed, timing, and force came together in harmony.

Block it and you still got cut; dodging it wasn’t easy either. Once upon a time, around the Demon-lands, it had been called a stroke that cut even demons. It was just before that stroke could begin. Unfortunately, Barik was unable to move forward or swing the blade at the timing Barik wanted.

Paa!

Because of a grating noise and a projectile flying toward the soft of the throat. Just as Barik was about to move in, center of gravity shifted in an instant, wrist turned, and the blade face became a shield to block what flew in.

Boom!

Another roar exploded. What had been blocked was a strangely shaped knife. The heavy chunk that had met the edge of Barik’s blade bounced aside and buried itself in the ground. Even having been deflected, it sank so deep that no hint of a hilt could be seen. The sound was loud, and yet had weight to it. On top of that, the spot chosen for the throw was truly clever.

If the throw had aimed for the head, Barik would simply have dipped the head to evade and rushed in, and if it had aimed for the torso, the armor could be trusted to deflect it.

‘Aiming for my throat.’

It was targeting the gap in the armor exactly. It was a spot hard to evade with just a little tilt of the head.

The attack was cut off before it could begin. It was like bringing together kindling to light a fire, only to have the flame snuffed out with a puff of wind before it could even catch.

Was this a crisis? Barik asked inwardly. Probably not.

The fortunate thing was that the unit of knights under Barik’s command was here together.

Wasn’t it the Mud Order of Knights that would do anything at all in order to win and live?

The advantage hadn’t been lost. The situation hadn’t changed.

That was Barik’s judgment. It was in the moment when Barik had blocked the thrown dagger and was faltering.

The instant the opponent showed an opening, Knight Barod brought both hands together and drove the edge of a shield used for combined offense and defense into the opponent’s left shoulder area.

The opponent had a sword in the right hand and had just thrown a dagger with the left. Enkrid lifted the hand that had thrown the dagger. Palm turned up. Just before Barod’s attack landed, that hand struck the elbow.

Tong!

When it hit the armor around the elbow, the point of impact blurred and posture collapsed. Barod stepped back.

There was no forcing things now. Give it time and in a drawn-out fight, this side held the advantage. There was no need to force a fight.

It was only enough time to draw a couple of breaths, but the skill the one who had suddenly dropped out of the sky had shown was remarkable.

Pustis had been blocked by an attack that had come in while Pustis was in the middle of talking, then Knight Longarm had been forced back by the sword the bastard swung, Barik had been stopped by the thrown dagger, and lastly even Barod’s attack had been checked.

Was this the time to at least toss out a comment about being impressed?

All four did no such thing. The eyes of the four shifted to behind the one who had appeared.

The one left was Venom, and that one had always fought in a perverse way. Venom went not for Enkrid, but for Jaxon, who was sitting and kneading a calf.

Just as the blade dropped, aiming for Jaxon’s skull. It looked like a hand had suddenly come out of empty air.

It was the power of a relic similar to a transparent cloak that concealed form and presence.

Until the very instant a hand came out from under the cloak, there wasn’t the slightest hint of presence to be felt from the attack. And yet Jaxon neatly swung a dagger to block it.

Thud—

With the attack blocked, Venom bounced back, feet thumping. The motion was like a pig’s bladder packed full of air. It was speed buoyed up by elasticity.

“Once you’ve passed a certain level, don’t lean on relics.”

Jaxon muttered.

“Are you trying to teach me?”

Venom spoke in a low whisper full of killing intent.

“My master said, if I ever met you, to pass that along.”

“......You.”

“The master of the Dagger of Geor is my master.”

“That nauseating bastard.”

An assassin only had to be good at killing people, so what was all that talk about cause, about there having to be meaning? Wasn’t this the one who’d gone charging in after seeing Venom grab people for poison research and use them in experiments? A lump of hypocrisy.

“A fine master.”

Jaxon spoke and stood up. Jaxon had made good use of the time Enkrid had bought.

In that time, Enkrid had once more blocked an attempt by the four to attack. Venom had struck at the same time as the four had tried to attack, but the four knights hadn’t gotten what they wanted. Before they could really engage the opponent properly, their momentum kept getting cut short.

Naturally, what Enkrid was using now was snuffing embers. The skill that had blocked even Balrog’s attacks. Afterward, Enkrid had continued to throw strength into training, repeating the high refinement again and again. The result was what they were seeing now. The four of the Mud Order of Knights had hands and feet tied. The four knights showed their bewilderment. Enkrid steadied breathing, maintained focus, and asked:

“Ready?”

The question was aimed behind.

“Ready.”

An answer came back to the question. Enkrid didn’t ask at length, and Jaxon’s answer was simple. Watching that, Venom wrinkled the brow.

“Insolent bastards. You think something’s going to change just because one has become two?”

No answer came back. It was being ignored. There was no particular reason. This was simply the time to be focusing on what they had to do.

Of course, Venom was thoroughly riled.

“You fucking mongrels.”