A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Pell let go of his sword and drove his forehead into the opponent’s head. Rados, too, had no time to grip his sword and do anything. Weren’t the two of them both rolling on the ground?

Still in that state, the two tangled a few times, and their posture quickly locked in. It was a posture where one side was on top while pinning the other side’s thigh down with a leg, and the one on top was Pell.

Rados tried to hold on to Pell’s arm until the end, and Pell, with his left arm caught by him, pulled his right elbow back behind him. From a half-awkward posture where he had lifted his waist, he rotated his torso and swung his elbow.

Bam! Crunch!

Rados barely used his arm as a shield and covered his face, but it was hard to say he blocked it. The forearm he used as a shield bent inward, and there was the sound of bone breaking.

“Ghk.”

A second groan spilled from Rados’s mouth. Even though his arm was broken, a scream did not burst out. Endure is a technique that prevents the body’s response from becoming dull to pain. It is a skill a knight commonly trains.

Rados endured. Pell, with the bastard’s body pinned down, looked into Rados’s wavering pupils.

It was like he was asking with his eyes. Why, why was he getting beaten like this.

He was a knight too, so of course he had wrapped himself in Iron Armor. Iron Armor is a technique that strengthens the skin and bones of the whole body through Will.

Of course, it’s not to the extent of blocking a blade wrapped in Will, but shouldn’t he be able to block a few strikes?

The meaning of the doubt held in his eyes was that.

“Not a chance.”

Pell said it out loud. He even caught his breath. It was fine to show that much leeway.

In a way, it was a natural result. One side, taking speed as its forte, unfolded ‘circle swordsmanship.’

He pursued extreme speed where if someone approached the area of a circle drawn centered on himself, he would stab and cut them all down. Would someone like that bother to train Iron Armor?

Also, Rados shaped and changed the Will inside his body into a thin, hard needle. That was clothing that fit perfectly and the most effective weapon when fighting with a sword while taking speed as a forte, but once it turned into a messy brawl while stuck together, it became a weakness.

This situation now was only the result of all of that mixing together.

Pell’s left hand wasn’t moving, but now Rados was the same.

Not long after, Pell’s elbow tore into Rados’s head. It was in the midst of thud, crack, whump sounds coming one after another. He tried to block with his broken arm and dodge somehow, but because he got hit cleanly, blood splashed everywhere. The outcome was decided. The amount of blood flowing was not small. Starting from the forehead, part of the ear was also torn, and he rolled on the ground.

Audin, who had come out at some point, spoke to Temares standing beside him.

“Look. As expected, a person has to learn while rolling.”

“I see.”

Pell hadn’t learned unarmed combat in depth, but as he got hit, it naturally got ingrained in his body. The opponent couldn’t.

The moment the two stuck together and rolled on the ground, it was already decided. For the Dragonkin, it was just so. His interest leaned to one side. Like all Dragonkin did.

However, the reason he had come out this far now wasn’t purely because of Enkrid.

It was because some unpleasant sensation stimulated him.

He planned to watch from now on and find out what it was.

“Aaaagh!”

Just because someone is a knight doesn’t mean their scream when they die is different from other people’s. Rados let out a death rattle. His head was torn and he felt dizziness, and he couldn’t stop Pell’s fist from lodging into his face. That was his last. One eyeball popped out and rolled on the ground.

“Waaa!”

Pell straightened his waist and let out a weird scream toward the sky. It was a victory roar.

Just because the start of the knights’ war was a duel didn’t mean every fight would end up as ‘you, come out.’

“Go out and sweep them away.”

The High Pontiff said the moment the outcome was decided. All of the southern knights stepped forward.

From far away, Enkrid saw part of the enemy knights approaching at a fast pace. There wasn’t a single unimpressive one among them. Each and every one revealed a fierce, ominous momentum.

It was right before fighting, so there was no need to hide killing intent. Momentum became intimidation, and intimidation clumped together like a chain-linked thundercloud and pressed down on the hearts of those watching.

“Cypress! Are you going to run because you’re tired? This was a fight between you and me anyway!”

In the center of that, a Frokk knight shouted triumphantly. This side was exhausted to the limit, and that side was in top condition. So it was a fight he could avoid.

Enkrid was also full of the intent to step in instead, but instinctively knew that would not happen.

Because even without seeing him for long, he could tell what kind of knight Cypress was.

“My opponent is decided. May I leave the rest to you?”

Cypress said. Even though he didn’t point to anyone, everyone knew who his words were aimed at.

“It’ll be hard for me to face all the rest, though?”

Lien tossed it with a joke mixed in. The reason his words were a joke was because they weren’t aimed at him. In this place, the only person on Cypress’s level was the one in a position leading another knight order.

Without any special answer, Enkrid moved.

“Dunbakel, pull Pell out.”

Pell had just smashed an enemy’s skull in front. He had planted Idol Slayer into the ground and stood up, but he didn’t look like he was in a state to fight more. Dunbakel threw her body forward without answering.

Dunbakel, who kicked off and dashed, drew a white line, then dug into the ground with a grrrk sound and stood in front of Pell.

“I can still fight.”

Pell was stubborn with his mouth, but his body quietly left itself to the beastwoman. In truth, he had no stamina or Will left to push himself further here. It had been a pretty brutal fight.

“Could you shut it before I throw you into enemy lines?”

Dunbakel’s sprint was truly fast, and the other side didn’t overreach trying to kill Pell. Thanks to that, Pell quietly fell back.

“Got lucky?”

When he came back to the rear as a piece of baggage like that, Rophod saw it and said so. Pell forgot his injury and opened his mouth.

“It’s skill. A difference in talent. It was a tree you can’t climb. If it were you, you’d have died, so offer morning greetings in gratitude every morning. You pedant.”

“You want to get stabbed every morning?”

Rophod acted like he hadn’t seen Pell get angry over what he suffered, and Pell responded so Rophod couldn’t say useless things.

Either way, the two of them fought well. Now it was their turn to be spectators.

***

Enkrid watched Dunbakel bring Pell and opened his mouth.

“Rem.”

Rem didn’t need an explanation. Just from hearing his name, he reacted on his own.

“Look at ’em, there ain’t a single bastard that’ll go down easy, but you gotta say hello, right? That’s the courtesy toward guests. I’ll go with a western-style greeting.”

As he spoke, he gripped slings in both hands and spun them. It was instant for the whoom-whoom of the spinning slings to turn into a wheeeeing sound.

The projectile Rem threw with the sling felt like a teleportation spell activated by sorcery the moment it fired.

Before his hand could finish turning, the head of one knight wearing a black helmet burst. One of the fifteen that had survived the fight with Cypress. The one remaining raised a pitch-black rectangular shield and blocked.

Bang!

With an explosion, it should naturally have crumpled and shattered, but it didn’t. A few patterns on the surface of the shield glowed faintly, and a wobbling wave rippled where it blocked the projectile, and it held firm.

“Huh?”

Rem’s mouth opened on its own. Excluding the one dead bastard, all of them raised shields, and every last one reeked of sorcery.

It was a little different from the western style, but the structure itself wasn’t very different.

‘Something like a rock snail, maybe.’

In the west, there is a monster called a rock snail, and there exists an enchantment sorcery called a snail shell made by looking at that monster. The sorcery hung on those shields now also looked similar.

A rock snail’s shell has the property of taking in shock and spreading it. It is harder than steel, and has a hardness where an ordinary slash doesn’t even leave a scratch.

“These bastards are giving me a challenge spirit?”

As he spoke, Rem folded one of the two slings, placed his left hand on the handle of his axe, which was a down-swing weapon, and held only one sling in his right hand and spun it.

If the other side uses sorcery, is this side supposed to just use strength like some bear beastman or something?

‘Even that Audin bastard mixes in technique.’

Audin, too, enjoyed putting technique forward rather than putting strength forward. Bastards who jump in just by looking at appearances end up getting taken by Audin again and again.

‘Same now.’

If they think all they have to do is block a simple projectile.

‘It’s gonna hurt a lot.’

Wheeeeing.

The sling spun. In response to the projectile’s assault, the bastards with black shields stepped to the front and lined up, pressed together. The Rihinstetten knights walked without any formation. Even though they blocked the front with shields, there were quite a few who slipped out to the side and walked leisurely.

Some of them didn’t bother stepping outside the formation and quietly followed behind the shields.

The High Pontiff at the very back gave them no command.

“Cypress, you’re not thinking of blocking that again, are you? It’s the Black Iron Wall formation. Don’t charge in thinking it’ll be easy to break. If you get more tired than now, I won’t have any fun.”

Enkrid and a few others, including Rem spinning his sling, felt the sneakiness of Baerlich.

‘It’s like he’s reciting it all for us to pay attention.’

Because he made everyone think something like that.

Even knowing it, it was hard to ignore. The bastards who had formed the Black Iron Wall matched their breathing and stamped their shields on the ground.

Thud!

The ground trembled, and a cloud of dust rose around them. Stones caught on shield corners and the like cracked and scattered.

Instead of answering, Cypress took out his sword, Resolve, put it to his forehead, and prayed. Since he didn’t recite what he prayed with his mouth, there was no way to know it.

“Rem.”

Enkrid called his unit member.

“Don’t rush me.”

Rem answered, and again threw the projectile in his hand.

Boom-!

The air burst and the projectile struck the shield again.

Kwaaang!

Along with an ear-rending blast. A wave rippled over the shields pressed together. The shields heaved like small waves crashing three or four times in a row.

It felt like proof that simply putting strength forward would never break through.

“Hm?”

One knight behind the shields tilted his head.

“The three in front, put the shields down.”

It was a calm voice. The three faceless knights followed those words at once. Rem, watching, snapped his fingers and said,

“Too late.”

Crack, the center of the formation called Black Iron Wall. The projectile Rem fired did not bounce away. Stuck to it, it began to glow red-hot.

“Burst.”

Boom!

Flame and pressure tore the shield.

Just before throwing the projectile, Rem had layered two sorceries and imbued it.

One was the spirit of a metal leech, and the other was the spirit of a flame imp.

Both were to a level that an ordinary sorcerer couldn’t even imitate, using stored monster spirits.

A metal leech can’t resist metal, clings to it, and gnaws it down, and a flame imp makes flames burst bigger in proportion to the shock. Rem had added his own sorcery power to the two and packed them into the projectile before throwing it.

And so, with a single projectile thrown just now, the formation broke. The helmets of the three bastards in front split, revealing pale skin. The pooled bloodwater and broken skulls proved their lives were over.

Rem let out a big breath, showing that the blow just now wasn’t easy. To the opponent, it was a posture perfect for letting their guard down. Looking at Rem like that, the bastard who had spoken earlier said again,

“Another one is flying in.”

Just as he said. Rem drooped the sling as if he were resting, but he had already loaded another projectile into it long ago.

Buu-uuweeiiing!

With one turn and then the moment it became two, it was high-speed rotation. When he stretched out his hand like that, the projectile once again tore the air with a pop.

This time, one bastard snatched the shield of the bastard beside him and overlapped two.

Bang!

This time too, he stuck it with the metal leech’s spirit, but the opponent’s response was different from before. The bastard holding two overlapped shields threw the shields straight forward.

Hwoooaang!

A heavy lump of metal flew in, but there wasn’t a single person here who would get hit by something like that. The shield froze in the center between the two groups with a krrrk sound, icicles forming.

If earlier it was the spirit of a flame imp, this time he packed in the spirit of a snow-mountain evil spirit.

A snow-mountain evil spirit is a monster that freezes even blood the moment it touches. It was the kind you’d only see in polar regions, even beyond the west. The drawback was that it was for short decisive battles only.

If there was no medium around when ice formed, it quickly became nothing but an ordinary lump of ice.

It was the same as how a snow-mountain evil spirit naturally withers and dies when the blizzard stops. In short, its duration was terrible.

Because the shield flew in and turned into ice and burst in midair, patches of frozen ground formed here and there between the two groups. Someone had intentionally let water pool, turning it into dotted frozen ground.

“It’s seriously killing it.”

Lien nodded. He had no hesitation in acknowledging skill, whether ally or enemy.

That was just his personality. Enkrid didn’t have anything to marvel at, because he had expected Rem would do about this much.

It was surprising that flames rose and ice formed, though.

Enkrid quietly watched the situation, then stepped forward.

‘Is it right to deal with them slowly here?’

No matter how you looked at it, their numbers were clearly lacking. His eyes swept between the High Pontiff and the group of bastards with black shields that had formed the Black Iron Wall and then half-collapsed into a group.

‘Doesn’t seem like there’s a need for that.’

Enkrid thought, and moved.