Eternally Regressing Knight Novel - Chapter 875
Chapter 875: Chapter 873 – The Provocation of the King and the Knight
Chapter 873 – The Provocation of the King and the Knight
At first, there were no more than five arrows flying at once.
Then the number of arrows gradually increased.
From five to seven, from seven to ten, from ten to twenty.
Tung-
“The bowstring snapped! Damn it, throw spears at least!”
The soldiers who had retreated passively raised their momentum.
That knight kept his word.
Then was this a time to just watch?
Probably not.
The Lihin-Stetten army struggled desperately.
“One, two, throw!”
They threw javelins in sync.
Still, the people did not cross the line.
The mad knight of Naurillia swung his black-bladed sword.
It drew two arcs simultaneously from bottom to top.
Five flying javelins were caught by the blade and cut.
The cut sections were sharp.
It was a fierce sword strike.
A couple of southern soldiers who saw it gulped.
If he changed his mind and attacked, that blade would be aimed at their necks.
It would be a lie to say they weren’t afraid.
“Where do you think you’re going!”
However, that knight seemed to have no intention of cutting the throats of those throwing spears and shooting arrows as long as they didn’t cross the line.
Then could they throw more?
“Throw as much as you want.”
Just in time, he told them to do so.
“…Bring the spears.”
Several strong soldiers lined up in a row and took a few steps forward.
Up to five steps away from the line the enemy knight had drawn.
“Throw!”
There was no slogan.
When they threw simultaneously, the javelins fell in a heap with a single slash.
This time, they each grabbed a different timing and threw.
In between, they shot a few more arrows.
A mobile anti-personnel weapon, called a Trias Bow within the southern army.
A name mixing ancient and imperial languages, meaning a bow shot by three.
Its advantage was power; its disadvantage was durability.
Tung-! Ujik!
With continuous firing, the bowstring couldn’t withstand the tension and snapped, or the support fixed to the ground broke.
The number of flying arrows was reduced to half of the beginning.
Sweat flowed from Fel’s forehead.
Still, it didn’t seem like he would be hit by a javelin or arrow.
“Come out.”
One of the enemy soldiers pushed past an ally’s shoulder and stepped further forward.
He came right up to the line Fel had drawn.
“I said I’d cut you if you cross.”
Fel, seeing that, said.
Even while dodging and swatting arrows, he wasn’t even breathing hard.
That made it eerie.
The soldier froze at those words, then calmly calculated the distance with his eyes and abruptly threw his shield.
Hu-ung! Teong!
It was intended to block his vision.
Fel struck the shield with his fist, deflecting it.
Through that gap, javelins, crossbow bolts, and the thick arrows of the Trias Bow flew in.
Fel’s pupils narrowed.
In an instant, he captured every projectile flying towards him and moved.
Peong!
Fel’s body drew an afterimage as he moved to the side.
Four arrows were caught by his sword and broken.
One broken arrow, with only half remaining, spun in the air before embedding itself in the ground.
“I said no.”
Even if he were hit, would his flesh even be pierced?
Fel had also rolled and rolled again in The Madmen Knights all this time.
Had he just rolled?
For the first time in his life, he had clenched his teeth and struggled.
He did not tolerate falling behind.
In that process, he had learned and mastered the knightly art called Iron Skin.
The crude arrows they used would likely leave only scratches on his body.
It was possible to endure even if he took them head-on without deflecting.
Yet Fel dodged and deflected them all.
Not even a scratch appeared on him.
Enemy soldiers gathered in droves and threw arrows, javelins, and shields.
Among them, one commander threw the sword at his waist.
Fel caught it and threw it back, embedding it right in front of the line he had drawn.
If you don’t cross, you won’t die.
He was faithful to those words.
To the eyes of the Lihin-Stetten commander, it was terror.
A visualization of fear.
‘He can kill us, yet he doesn’t.’
Morale had plummeted with the death of the three knights, but their spirits had been broken before that.
It was because of the spirit shown by the madman named Fel.
It was a word he didn’t necessarily have to keep.
It wasn’t a vow, nor an oath.
Yet Fel kept it.
He was faithful to the words he had spat from his own mouth.
“Don’t cross.”
Leaving warnings intermittently in between.
‘A knight is a disaster.’
The enemy commander’s legs gave way.
He managed to stay standing, but it was no different from having knelt.
The flying weapons ceased.
Clop, clop, clop, clop.
Behind him, a dark brown horse with a beautifully grown mane approached slowly.
The person riding it wore a cream-colored cloak.
It was a cloak embroidered in red with three swords, a shield, and the pattern of the Sun Tree.
“Phew, what is it? Giving up?”
Fel caught his breath and spoke.
He had felt a presence from behind but hadn’t thought much of it.
Most of the soldiers had pale faces.
Monstrous bastards.
A knight is a disaster or a monster.
To the soldiers now, the man standing in front of that line was a disaster and a monster.
The commander, who had mustered courage to create the current situation, saw black spots before his eyes.
‘Should I have just let them attack?’
Even if he was a knight, he only had two hands.
Even if they rampaged, they would have inflicted at least a little damage.
Or should he say he hadn’t expected them to go this far?
A chill settled in everyone’s hearts due to the actions of that one light-brown-haired knight.
Wasn’t he doing something truly amazing as if it were nothing?
The highest person in charge of this unit gauged how many could survive here.
‘Surrender? Submission?’
The core of the southern army was not here.
If he surrendered here, he would die later anyway.
Because the Great Emperor, their king, would not forgive those who betrayed him even once.
The Great Emperor was not that soft.
That was the kind of existence their king was.
‘Then do we have to attack knowing we’ll die here?’
The commander sought God.
Naturally, God does not appear every time a human needs Him.
“Even in hell…”
Just as he was about to shout, Even in hell we fight, let’s fight even if we all die here.
It was late, but there was no other way left anyway.
He had no choice.
“If you don’t cross the line, I won’t kill you!”
The commander couldn’t finish his sentence.
Before his voice could even rise.
The owner of the cream-colored cloak shouted first.
Krang agreed with what Fel had done.
It seemed he had turned the momentum the knight had shown so far into words.
Everyone’s gaze gathered on the declaration shouted from horseback.
The dark brown horse raised its forelegs and brought them down.
Heeigh, the horse’s cry seemed to add strength to its master’s words.
The opponent had stolen the moment just as the commander-in-chief of Lihin-Stetten was about to say something.
They say a great orator knows the moment to open his mouth.
Krang was like that.
He seized the gazes of not only his allies but all the enemy troops.
Outwardly, he didn’t even take a deep breath.
With a calm attitude, he looked once at the enemy commander, appearing to appreciate the aftermath of what his allied knight had done.
Then came a single phrase.
“Impressive.”
Yes, even among the enemy soldiers, there were those who had that impression.
Did a knight necessarily keep the words he said?
Leaving aside knights, such people were rare.
Even if one was confident they could do it, it was truly rare for someone to take such risks and endure discomfort to do such a thing.
That was why the word “impressive” fit so well.
“Knight Fel.”
Krang called the madman.
“Speak, Your Highness.”
Fel wondered why he was doing this here when Enkrid had told him to protect the king.
As he spoke, he finished preparing to block any arrows in case the enemy shot again.
Four Royal Guards were lined up quietly behind the king.
The king had been like this while approaching, full of composure.
There was no urgency.
He didn’t look like a person facing a fight close to a massacre, who would soon order them all killed.
With just one word from him, the number of survivors among the enemy soldiers could soon be counted on less than ten fingers.
He was a person standing in a position to manipulate their lives and deaths at will.
“Is there anyone who has died at your hands?”
The king asked.
“There is not.”
Fel answered.
“Why?”
“Because they didn’t cross the line.”
Because those were the words he said.
Because he said he would keep them.
Even as he spat out these words, there was not a bit of hesitation.
Should one say this is what a knight is?
Even a light word, once it leaves his mouth, is kept.
It was an attitude like a textbook.
His origin was as a shepherd of the wilderness, but right now, he was more knightly than anyone else here.
Enkrid’s knightly order resembled him.
Krang swallowed a laugh.
Because he couldn’t laugh here.
“I see.”
Krang said, dismounting from his horse.
He stepped in front of Fel just like that.
Fel wondered if he should stop this.
‘Is it okay to leave him be?’
If he stepped forward like that, it would be inconvenient to block arrows.
Because there was always a “what if.”
Shouldn’t the king not get hurt, even by mistake?
“Your Highness.”
The leader of the Royal Guard followed closely.
The king stopped him with a single gesture.
It was a polite refusal.
“This is my stage. Do not interfere.”
It was the moment the king, who had spoken as if reciting, stepped forward.
Flutter.
A winged horse descended behind him.
Enkrid dismounted from Weird Eyes and stood to the king’s right rear.
Cypress had also followed the king.
He stood to the king’s left rear.
“A luxurious escort.”
Krang muttered.
What he said this time was heard by everyone.
It was truly strange; even though he hadn’t spoken very loudly, his voice spread widely.
Should one say his vocalization was different?
“I speak to the southern army.”
Enkrid and Cypress didn’t show any momentum and just stood there, but naturally, an aura that overwhelmed the surroundings flowed out.
Even so, only the owner of the cream-colored cloak entered the gazes of all the enemy soldiers.
He raised his hand and pointed down.
Following his fingertip, one could see a long drawn line.
The line Fel had roughly drawn in the dirt.
Because no one had touched it even in the midst of fighting, it was still clearly visible.
“If you don’t cross the line, I won’t kill you. If that is this knight’s will, then I, too, will respect this knight’s will. My name is Kryanaht Angius Naurilius, and I stake my name on these words.”
The shout rang out.
A silence flowed where not even the sound of swallowing could be heard, and soon a disturbance arose.
Whispers leaked from among the Lihin-Stetten troops.
“…He’s letting us live?”
“If we just don’t cross the line?”
“…Why?”
It was natural to have doubts.
But there would be no one among the enemy soldiers who understood Krang’s intent.
Enkrid saw it that way.
Realistically, what crazy person would decide to send all enemy soldiers back alive when they had perfectly seized the victory?
What’s more, the two countries were in the middle of an all-out war.
“If perchance you wish to end this battlefield at once, you just have to cross the line and take my head. It’s an easy method.”
Krang continued.
It was an unexpected boldness.
The enemy commander’s pupils didn’t even waver.
It wasn’t something to consider.
‘Nonsense.’
On one side was the Griffon Slayer with a fluttering dark green cloak, and on the other was Cypress of the Crimson Cloak Knights, the Guardian God protecting the South of Naurillia.
“Are you saying we can withdraw?”
The commander asked.
He didn’t know why the King of Naurillia was here, and everything was surprising.
Suspicion arose naturally.
Was he doing this to give hope and then drive them into despair?
After saying that much, it wouldn’t be easy to retract it.
Weren’t all the knights watching?
Revering honor and chivalry was natural to them.
Mocking the enemy army in this way was unknightly.
Even if the king did it, he would gain antipathy.
Knights were such people.
The commander’s head was very complicated.
“You may go. And.”
Krang opened his mouth again.
He didn’t finish his sentence and met the commander’s eyes.
The commander of Lihin-Stetten looked at the enemy king.
Eyes like blue jewels.
The will within them truly shone.
‘Those aren’t eyes that would speak lies.’
The commander thought, waiting for the king’s words to continue.
“Tell the Great Emperor that I am here. Tell him I expected to see that fellow’s face if I came here, but tell him I am disappointed.”
It was a high-level provocation.
A provocation containing the question: I, the king, came out to the battlefield myself, but where are you?
What’s more, the South had a prevalent culture of revering the strong.
The Great Emperor was also one such person.
“Go and tell him. That I am waiting here.”
Krang said, turning his body.
The cream-colored cloak fluttered in the wind.
“You have planned something interesting, Your Highness.”
Cypress said from beside him.
Enkrid had long since read his close friend’s intent.
So it wasn’t surprising.
Instead, he met the eyes of the enemy commander.
The commander, who contained the question of whether he could really withdraw like this, felt Enkrid’s gaze and turned his head.
“If by chance this is all of your knightly orders amount to…”
What is that bastard trying to say now?
“Tell him I am disappointed as well.”
“…Hm?”
“There were only guys so frail I couldn’t even warm up.”
Enkrid was sincere.
If this was really all of them, he had no intention of hiding his disappointment.
Therefore, he clearly revealed that emotion on his face.
“Pfft.”
Krang laughed at those words.
His dignified appearance was broken, but he didn’t care about such things.
“Hahaha!”
Rather, he laughed loudly.
Cypress also burst into laughter.
“I didn’t say it to make you laugh, but anyway, tell him to bring more knights.”
Enkrid said with a calm attitude and turned around.
That day, the commander, after withdrawing, had to choose his words carefully while delivering the news to the main force.
The Great Emperor didn’t jump up and down in rage at this, but handprints were left on the armrests of his chair.
Armrests crushed because he had gripped them with force.
***
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Chapter 874 – Marcus’s Bravado
The laugh Krang had worn while putting on a show of bravado disappeared in an instant.
The Lihin-Stetten army had retreated.
Four knights had died, and the griffon riders had vanished like mosquitoes in the cold.
Had there been any bad news?
No.
And yet, Krang’s complexion was dull.
He looked like a housewife worrying about a summer night’s storm.
A face that seemed to fear the ruthlessness of the storm, unable to gauge its strength even after preparing for it.
It was an expression only Enkrid saw.
Before entering the small tent, Krang had maintained a confident attitude, even laughing as he turned around.
He only revealed his anxiety once inside the tent.
Was this a moment requiring deduction?
One might make countless jokes about trivial matters, but such mischief wouldn’t be necessary for genuinely important matters.
Enkrid chose the fastest path.
He looked at his close friend and asked.
“Why?”
Without needing a long explanation, everything was contained in the short and bold question.
From Why is your expression like that? to What is the cause of your anxiety? and Why can’t you celebrate the victory?
The first answer came not from Krang, but from Cypress.
“The number of troops, including knights, is too small. The knights, especially, are few. It’s a disappointing number to consider as the main force.”
Lihin-Stetten’s troop strength was superior to Naurillia’s.
Just in knight numbers, they had at least three times as many.
That was what was known.
Since they had three knightly orders alone.
Among them, he had given four of the Amethyst Knights the chance to leave this life and greet a new one, but Cypress judged that it was insufficient for a force left behind to stop him.
Even with the griffon riders, this was nothing more and nothing less than a stalling tactic.
“Lihin-Stetten split their forces and sent them out. Their potential is such that it’s hard to call them a detached unit.”
Krang added.
The worst-case scenario had occurred.
He was certain of it now, after defeating the enemy.
However, the king’s words right now were greatly mistaken.
In truth, if one looked only at the unit’s strength, this side was the detached unit, and the hidden side would be the main force.
In other words, the allied main force was tied up by this detached unit.
“We’ve been had.”
The king said again.
Enkrid’s helmet rack spun rapidly to prove that it was used for more than just fighting.
‘Krang brought only the Royal Guard and a portion of the troops here. The headcount is small for a king’s personal expedition.’
Then where were the rest?
They probably remained where Krang originally was.
The royal palace, the capital, or the road to the capital.
‘Krang came with a small number but noisily raised his flag.
Now that he has won, he has even made his position known to the enemy.
I don’t know for sure, but just letting that many enemy soldiers go is an act worthy of a line in the history books.’
Naturally, if he won, it would be written as glorious, and if he lost, he would be written as the stupidest moron of a king in the world.
‘The word that the king of a nation has stepped onto the battlefield will spread widely. Not as a clumsy rumor, but as a proven fact.’
Were there just one or two witnesses?
There were over hundreds.
Among them, how many were commanders whose words held credibility?
The knights were killed, but the unit survived.
The commander also returned alive, so he would speak of the appearance of someone with blond hair, blue eyes, and a cream-colored cloak he saw with his own eyes, and he would also convey the story he heard with his own ears.
What Krang did was no different from throwing down a gauntlet, declaring that the king was here and challenging them to a decisive battle here without needing a prolonged fight.
‘If he had even mimed throwing a leather glove in their face, it would have been perfect.’
Krang had thrown a winning move.
Lihin-Stetten had crossed Naurillia’s border from the start.
As soon as he recognized that, Krang sought and walked the best path he could.
He wished to minimize the sacrifice of those within the fence called the country.
He did so even if it meant using himself as bait.
“If it goes well, I’ll be a sage king; if it fails, I’ll be a moron. I know, Enki.”
In between, Krang had revealed his intentions a few times, and he added further explanation now.
It was a short conversation, but the understanding was complete.
Krang nodded at his close friend realizing his intent.
“An army consumes supplies just by moving. If they have already moved, they won’t just clap their hands and come back, thinking ‘oh well’. It would be natural for them to conquer a city and plunder supplies before returning. Do you wish to send Rien and Ingis? My King.”
Cypress asked.
The knight with light brown hair showing gray had a calm attitude, without any murderous intent or dizzying aura.
He was as always.
No different from when they first met.
However, the implication contained in his words was like a naked blade.
Now, decide, My King.
Those you left behind have stepped up to block the storm with a single thin plank.
Are they enough?
Or will you endure their sacrifice?
Or will you send a means to block the storm, even late?
Such words were the hidden proposal.
Enkrid judged it a harsh moment, but since he was the king, he left him to handle it.
Also, because he was his knight, he merely found and did what he had to do.
Enkrid asked the name of the person who remained behind, blocking the road to the capital, harboring recklessness or perhaps courage.
“Who remained?”
Krang answered readily.
“Marquis Baisar volunteered.”
A man who liked tea, outwardly preferred immorality, but inwardly respected his father.
He was once his battalion commander.
Krang showed a smile, but it was bitter.
A bitter and wry smile.
With the bitter smile, Krang continued.
“I know it’s a gamble. I have no intention of making excuses. Marcus might die.”
As if the speaker himself didn’t believe it, his eyes were full of strength.
Leading a portion of the troops to block an enemy army that included knightly forces.
He didn’t have to defeat them.
He just had to buy time.
The king, the symbol of Naurillia, was here, and two pillars supporting the royal family were also here.
Ultimately, it was a fight that would only end if they removed the knightly orders and killed or captured the king.
Therefore, while Marcus bought time, Krang was revealing his name here to draw all the enemy forces to this place.
That was the form of the strategy.
Should he name it something like “ant lion pit”?
‘If he had said the king was here after being defeated or in urgency, it would look like the enemy figured out his intent or like he was revealing his weakness.’
Krang waited for his allies’ victory instead of stepping up abruptly.
He didn’t cry out that he was here, or plead for them not to touch the kingdom’s people.
He didn’t beg.
‘Because he must not reveal weakness.’
It was a time when he had to endure, even if his insides burned and his intestines felt like they were being cut.
He did so.
That was the reason he stood before the battlefield, taking risks after seeing what Fel did.
And the reason a provocation that seemed arrogant yet not desperate was needed.
Fel might not know what he had done, but coincidences overlapped to help what Krang wanted.
What was all this for?
It was time.
‘Short and bold.’
Striking like lightning instead of burning long like a candle—that was the core of this war.
In the midst of this, they needed people to hold the enemy’s feet and accumulate damage so they couldn’t exert force elsewhere.
They needed soldiers to buy time and die instead of letting a city fall.
They needed a hero to show bravado, saying they wouldn’t just be beaten by the enemy.
They needed a great man to gauge the enemy’s strength and convey it even while dying by a knight’s blade.
This was the result of that necessity.
“‘Why? Do they think we’ll just be beaten if there are no knights? I will show them how I fight.’ That is the message Marcus asked me to convey.”
Marcus’s bravado was conveyed through the king’s mouth.
Instead of a bitter smile, a genuine smile accompanied it.
In his smile, faith, trust, and loyalty were mixed with anxiety, tension, and sadness.
Krang conveyed Marcus Baisar’s words with an expression only a human bearing agony could make.
“I share the same opinion. Everyone is fighting for what they want in their own place.”
The king’s will did not change.
He had staked much for a short and bold fight.
His own life, and the life of a subject who was a close friend—everything.
If he lost here, Krang would die too.
It was like demanding such a war.
For that, he spared the knightly forces.
He had to gather them in one place.
Because he had to slap the cheek of the Great Emperor leading Lihin-Stetten here.
It was the best way to fight and win with numbers inferior to the South.
Cypress decided not to send the Crimson Cloak Knights.
Rien and Ingis could go, but if they went now, they would likely just carve a name on Marcus’s tombstone and return.
Or maybe they would have to just cover Marcus’s dead body with dirt a few times without even time for that and return immediately.
There were no wings in the knightly order, but there were a few fast horses with reserved stamina.
However, no mount could exceed physical limits.
“Whether it is right or wrong will be discussed by historians of the distant future, not today, but for now, I will agree with Your Highness’s choice.”
Cypress was a man who knew how to console.
He spoke to Krang.
Krang reduced the anxiety, tension, and sadness in his expression a little and spoke, giving more weight to faith and trust.
“Just because the Goddess of the Scales’ balance has tipped, I do not think those placed on it can do nothing. Their death is not a predetermined fact.”
The Goddess of the Scales enjoys difficult problems.
What can you do on a tilted scale?
The Goddess asks, and humans only answer.
If you do nothing, you fall from the tilted scale and die.
If you struggle and hold on, you might hang onto the scale and live a little longer.
If you enter the Grand Chapel in the capital Naurill, a painting symbolizing the Goddess’s dilemma hangs on the left wall.
It shows a person hanging on and enduring on the scale, and something painted black pressing down hard on the other side.
Cypress looked into the king’s eyes.
The will contained in those eyes shone.
“War gives the victor the right to rewrite history.”
If they lost, Marcus’s sacrifice might become worthless.
So he would win here and remember the spirit they showed.
Enkrid figured out one of Cypress’s habits.
He spoke in a complicated way.
It might be a habit formed from old age.
Since he was an old man over seventy.
“Do people sometimes tell you that your gaze is insolent?”
Cypress suddenly asked Enkrid.
“I’ve never heard such a thing.”
Enkrid was not an elf, so he would speak falsehoods as much as necessary.
Krang chuckled.
Cypress went outside with a faint smile.
“Marcus isn’t the type to be beaten quietly.”
Enkrid said continuously.
He had considerable experience fighting alongside him.
He knew Marcus as a battalion commander, and he knew his eccentricity of mixing alcohol into his tea.
He was a man who used his nickname, hid his strength, and would do anything to win.
Although one couldn’t say he possessed outstanding strategy and tactics.
‘But he’s not a fool.’
Krang nodded.
“Sharp. Enki.”
Enkrid heard the strategy Marcus had prepared.
It was an interesting story.
“Indeed.”
Should he call him Marcus the War Maniac?
Hadn’t he often done things that suited his nickname in the past?
‘War Maniac’ was a nickname Marcus had given himself.
Originally, his specialty was aiming for the opponent’s loopholes using the fame of enjoying war.
It was similar this time.
‘But knights are different.’
Can he stop them?
Probably not.
It was a fact he knew without racking his brain.
“I could go there for a moment.”
Enkrid’s tone was as light as if he were saying he would walk over and get a glass of water.
“It’s already too late. This is a calculated fight.”
Krang replied.
They had considered splitting the knightly order in response to the enemy’s movement, but then the size of the bait on this front would decrease.
The current situation was the result of the agony of dozens of strategists in the royal palace racking their brains.
Well, if things didn’t go as planned, he intended to lead the entire knightly order across the southern border and wage a war that called for destruction, saying let’s die together.
In the past, were kingdom battles fought like this called wars of annihilation?
In other words, this was a written challenge and a threat to the enemy army.
If you leave us here and spread out to fight, we’ll just march and burn the southern royal palace?
A threat like that, perhaps?
Therefore, there wasn’t enough time to strike the southern army that was using the land widely.
Because the distance was far and the terrain rough.
Enkrid spoke, still nonchalantly.
“Not late. It’s quick if I ride.”
He answered and stepped out of the tent to meet his friend whose excitement hadn’t faded.
“With so many mouths, rumors will spread quickly. Huh?”
As soon as he opened the tent entrance, he saw Rem’s face.
He didn’t know when he had arrived.
“You’re going to ride Rem? Are you saying that’s faster than just running?”
Krang asked.
It was a nasty joke.
Cypress, who had gone out first, couldn’t hold it in and smirked.
A madman riding a barbarian—wasn’t it quite a funny sight?
“No, come out. Why are you here?”
Enkrid pushed Rem.
“Did I come somewhere I shouldn’t?”
Rem retorted grumpily, and Enkrid pointed to another comrade still frolicking in the sky behind him.
***
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Next 100 chapters – 25e [Be sure to message me on discord for any information]
[SHOP BEST BUY] – 50e – Every chapter translated – Latest WN-1024 + daily chapters from monday to friday for a month.
-KNIGHT – Cost 20e – Chapters 960-1024 + daily chapters from Monday to Friday for a month
I welcome you to join our discord https://discord.gg/RY7BbJpeAZ
**ANY INFO ONLY APPLIES TO THE LATEST CHAPTER HERE ON WEBNOVEL**