A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 856

"It's raining."Cypress received the words spoken by Ingis.

"Yes, it is."

Was this a good thing?

Judging by the current situation, it was right to view it as a good thing.

At the very least, griffons wouldn't fly.

Cypress looked not at griffon riders, but at the hordes of Drowned Ones emerging from the ground.

Normally, rainy days are the worst on the Southern Front.

Many soldiers had cursed upon waking up and seeing the falling rain.

'Fatigue is building up.'

Not just himself, but every soldier stationed on the front would be feeling it.

Instead of fireballs, icicle spears, and stones hurled by griffon riders, the falling rain met the earth, conceiving and giving birth to the Drowned Ones.

Now, the problem wasn't griffons; it was the malevolent spirits and Drowned Ones appearing within the trenches, the ghouls lurking outside, and the stealthy gnolls.

'There are too many monsters.'

They weren't a threat to Cypress or the knights, but they were a definite threat to the soldiers.

Nothing was easy.

If the Southern Front were a person, it would be injured and sick everywhere.

'Should I ask the Goddess of Fortune?'

Is this really what you want?

Are you serious about this?

Cypress did not challenge the heavens.

Instead, he simply engraved a new vow upon his heart.

"A malignant aura is pervasive."

Ingis repeated his concern.

"The soldiers will feel it too. We are veterans who have fought countless battles. There is no way they wouldn't sense this ominous atmosphere. So, do not try to artificially boost morale."

Ingis blinked.

In times like this, shouldn't he step up to encourage the soldiers?

If he was told not to do the obvious, there must be a reason.

What should he do if he didn't know the answer?

Ask.

Ingis opened his mouth.

"What should we do in a time like this?"

He had recently become a knight.

Apart from his skill, he was still inexperienced in leading a unit, at least in Cypress's eyes.

He, too, acknowledged this and asked his Master whenever something was unclear, just as he was doing now.

Asking was a good attitude.

It was proof that he hadn't succumbed to a sense of omnipotence, wasn't consumed by arrogance, and hadn't lost his curiosity.

"Wait for an opportunity."

Master Cypress said, stroking his wet, damp beard.

"Wait?"

Ingis prompted, and Cypress raised the hand that was stroking his beard, mimicking a thrust forward.

"If you don't see a gap, create one."

There was no need for forced encouragement.

All that was needed was a feat, such as stepping forward and taking the enemy commander's head.

The commander of Lihin-Stetten would not fight their forces directly.

They only send up the monsters that pop out of the Demon Realm and the griffon riders.

If they had engaged in a full-scale battle, they wouldn't have been suffering like this.

What the Southern Front needed now was a battle.

If Cypress, Ingis, or the third knight were to take the enemy general's head, the unit's atmosphere would naturally recover.

'Or a comparable achievement would suffice.'

As the Holy Relic's power faded, the ominous air within the camp was on the verge of manifesting as monsters.

If morale were to hit rock bottom here...

'Is this a battle lost before it even begins?'

We've been hit.

He was curious about the face of the schemer in the South.

He hadn't known it before he was hit, but now he understood.

'It is a strategy prepared, stone by stone.'

He had encountered similar situations before.

What did he do then?

'Just break through with sheer valor.'

If brains were lacking, one could solve it with strength.

Organizing his thoughts, Cypress savored the vow he had just engraved.

'I will be the first knight to die.'

A vow was the foundation of a knight's Will.

He stacked vows to become a guardian deity protecting the front line.

At least, that's how the soldiers and Ingis saw him.

"Yes, Master."

Ingis bowed his head in reply.

Today, too, he engraved his Master's teaching upon his heart.

Cypress's teaching was a highly condensed message, but they hadn't only been together for a day or two.

It was Cypress who had guided Ingis to become a knight, after all.

An ominous energy had settled over the front.

Perhaps the only marginally better news was that the King had personally arrived with an army last night.

They would face the Drowned Ones born of the rain in place of the weary Army.

***

The Madmen Knights wear cloaks embroidered with a step-like pattern symbolizing a fortress wall

The dark green cloak had become their symbol.

Most of the knights wore dark green cloaks.

Enkrid's was a bit more special, but the others' cloaks also kept out the rain.

Excluding Themares and Luagarne, the cloaks gifted by the elves were enough to keep out the rain.

The cloaks repelled the rain and didn't easily get wet.

They simply had to pull up the oil-soaked leather hood, sewn in two layers, to keep their heads dry.

The Dragonkin, who had no such cloak, let the rainwater soak their entire body without a care.

The Dragonkin was a solitary walker; illness couldn't even brush against him.

Such was the majesty of a race born with the natural ability to wield Will.

Of course, his mouth was quite far from majestic.

"Why can't you stop that mouth?"

Luagarne muttered.

The Dragonkin replied without looking back at Frog.

"Because there is no need."

Indeed, the words of an arrogant race.

The Dragonkin had just read her mind and revealed the thought she had repeated inwardly: that she was his only companion.

Shinar nodded calmly, acknowledging it.

"Of course, only me."

Whatever the Dragonkin said, Shinar, too, had long stepped outside the bounds of normalcy.

Even by elven standards, and everyone present knew it.

Thus, no one was surprised when she spoke like that, maintaining a deadpan expression.

Shinar accepted the Dragonkin's words.

There was no reason to hide her thoughts.

"They said it was not easy to weave the thread."

Encrid casually disregarded Shinar's comment and muttered.

This cloak automatically expanded or contracted, blocking most attacks and shedding rainwater.

He recalled the words uttered by one of the Driads clan with shimmering yellow-green eyes:

"The essence of our clan is contained in this fabric."

The clan she referred to was the Driads.

Even elves were divided into several clans.

There were many who possessed such special talents.

'Including a certain Woodguard who smoke leaves, there are many elves who are not normal.'

Yet, looking at the blacksmith who mended the broken Penna, he seemed simply like someone passionate about his work.

Enkrid gripped and released the hilt of the Penna, which was diagonally fastened to his right hip.

Distractions.

A loophole that arose from having spare capacity.

Enkrid was neither frustrated nor depressed by the downpour.

If his heart had been shaken by the ominous raindrops, he would have been stuck in some past day.

Or he might have died before repeating the present day.

Knowing how to compose himself, if not achieve perfect tranquility, was one of Enkrid's specialties.

His tendency to provoke others in a calm tone was supported by this disposition.

"I am simply grateful that they gave me a cloak that fits my body."

Audin muttered.

He truly looked delighted.

The elves' gift was sincere.

They had even provided a cloak that fit Audin's body.

It was the first clothing gift he had ever received.

In his time as a monk, he had to sew three pieces of cloth together to make his own clothes that fit.

"Well, I guess they managed to size it properly."

Rem muttered.

Audin felt awkward wearing cloth as a cloak, not as a tent substitute.

But he was equally satisfied.

Theresa rubbed the cloak between her thumb and index finger.

Its texture was truly unique.

It wasn't even damp on a day like this.

Beyond simply not getting wet, the air inside the cloak was refreshing.

It was the essence of elven weaving technology and their magic.

"If you wish to make a fire, tell me. I am the elf who controls fire."

Shinar slightly raised the bridge of her nose.

That level was comparable to the arrogance of the Dragonkin.

Neigh.

A horse whinnied in response to the ominous atmosphere mixed with the rain.

Shinar gently patted the horse's head.

In no way was this a cheerful and pleasant journey.

It was a gloomy, ominous, dreary, and stifling day, yet they seemed one step removed from its influence.

They cracked jokes and spouted nonsense.

No one complained of headaches, nor did their bodies feel heavy.

The entire party continued without stopping, even while chatting.

They walked diligently.

Finding the way was not difficult.

They just had to keep going straight with a few mountain peaks on their left; anyone other than Ragnar could find the direction by looking at the rising sun.

"Wake me up if you think you might get lost."

Ragnar muttered a trivial remark and began to doze.

"Right."

Enkrid replied without much thought.

When the plain ended, they had to cross undulating hills.

It was land covered with short grass.

A forest was visible on the left.

If they were to circle widely to the east from here, they would reach Viscount Harrison's territory.

It is said the further south they went, the more Drowned Ones emerged.

Naturally, on a rainy day, Drowned Ones emerged everywhere.

Especially a long-lasting rain like this was the best day for the Drowned Ones to be active.

This was the result of observation, experimentation, and research by hundreds of scholars.

The Drowned Ones are born from water.

The seed forcefully scattered across the continent by the monsters, the Demon Realm, is now widespread.

The Drowned Ones are the bastards conceived and born when this forced, scattered seed is watered by the rain.

Such is the air and rain emanating from the Demon Realm.

Some scholars even referred to them as vanguards attacking the continent.

"Doesn't it get annoying with how many of them show up?"

Rem said, looking at the horde of Drowned Ones.

There was a limit to what one considered a fight.

These things were just obstacles cluttering the path.

At least, that's how they felt to them.

The ominous air, the gloom, and dreariness scattered by the Demon Realm, monsters, and magical beasts?

Rem was accustomed to this weather.

He was also used to this kind of atmosphere.

'It's better than near the Silence.'

Moreover, the place where he grew up was right next to a Demonic Domain named 'Silence'; anyone affected by the ominousness wouldn't even be able to handle sorcery.

He was as solid and robust as he was when he left Border Guard.

Rem narrowed his eyes and let the arm holding the axe droop.

Rainwater flowed down his forearm and along the axe blade.

His axe would not rust from mere rainwater.

What he held was an heirloom weapon.

The axe blade vibrated like a pulsing heart as sorcery energy clumped together.

"Huh? Isn't that right?"

Rem asked again, curling his lips into a sinister smirk.

He wasn't looking for an answer.

He saw the unearthly figures rising from the rain and tensed the muscles in his forearm.

Despite the hazy visibility due to the rain and fog, Enkrid counted the number of monsters blocking their way.

It wasn't difficult.

A knight's vision wasn't hampered by this much.

Furthermore, estimating headcounts was something he had done countless times as a scout, with his life on the line.

He mentally drew a circle, counted the Drowned Ones inside, and then multiplied the number by increasing the number of circles to estimate the total.

'Is it over two hundred?'

Is that a lot?

Yes, it is.

Enough to be considered a crisis if an ordinary traveling merchant or caravan encountered them.

Or enough to warrant an immediate retreat.

But not for them.

"Well. I would like to stretch my legs too, but it's difficult to leave before Weird Eyes comes back."

Shinar said.

The elf was the only one who could calm the horses' anxiety.

She was still gently patting the heads of several horses and reassuring the pack animals.

"Then I will."

Luagarne stepped forward.

The rain in the South was heavy, cold, and hard, but Frog enjoyed any downpour.

That's why only the Dragonkin and she did not wear cloaks.

Even to her, the rain near the Demon Realm wasn't particularly pleasant, but did that matter?

She nudged the Dragonkin's elbow and said,

"Have you heard of 'Friendship Fee,' Themares?"

"What is that? A new concept?"

"It means getting gold coins in exchange for playing with someone. I won't be receiving gold coins from you, so I'll have to take something else instead."

Themares thought for a moment after Luagarne's remark and then said,

"Do you wish me to transform into a woman and become that man's companion?"

"... What kind of mindset do you have to reach that conclusion?"

Shinar, who was watching, burst out in anger.

She abandoned the elf's expressionless look and raised an eyebrow.

This change in the elf's expression was no longer rare.

She contained clear anger.

Although, compared to a human, it was merely her eyebrow twitching and raising slightly.

Luagarne puffed up her cheeks and laughed with a gurgling sound, then said,

"Fight. Clear away those who block the path of the one you follow. Themares, it is time to pay the price for playing along."

The Dragonkin nodded without hesitation.

"I will."

A transaction implies an exchange.

The Dragonkin understood the concept of a transaction.

He recognized that there was a price to pay to be a friend or companion.

Enkrid also drew his sword.

He forgot the lack of communication.

There were plenty of monsters to receive his sword.

What kind of unknown magic was contained in this rain?

Perhaps it was because the Demon Realm was drawing closer.

Water currents gathered at the center of the Drowned Ones horde, and a translucent evil spirit appeared.

It was a Water Wraith.

Somewhere between a Drowned One and an evil spirit, it was considered a harbinger of death by ordinary soldiers and mercenaries.

"Should we hurry up a bit?"

Enkrid judged that there was no need to slow their pace because of the rain.

"That one is mine!"

Dunbakel shouted and dashed out.

Her steps were so swift that the afterimages mixed with the rainwater burst and scattered where she had passed.

The rainwater scattered like dandelion seeds.

"That smelly beast."

Rem pouted, having lost the first move.

A few Drowned Ones, aware of Dunbakel, swung their hands.

Purple-stained claws slashed the air.

Dunbakel crouched down and then leapt up, stomping on and bursting the head of one Drowned One.

Thwack!

The head burst, and black blood mixed with the rainwater.

Dunbakel flew towards the Water Wraith, soaring as if she were flying, and then slashed the wraith that was holding firm in the center with her Will-infused scimitar.

It happened in the span of two breaths.

It was a swift, quick, and daring cut.

As the wraith died, it threw water blades in all directions, but the agile Beastkin deflected the water blades by swinging her scimitar in mid-air, and then dodged by somersaulting after landing on the ground.

When Drowned Ones rushed her in between, she alternated between her blade, foot, and fist, cutting and smashing the monsters' heads and torsos.

"Haha! I am Dunbakel, the most beautiful woman of the East!"

She shouted while spinning in place on the ground.

With the spin, the water currents around Dunbakel churned and splattered everywhere like a whirlpool.

The cloak clinging to her body synchronized with her movements.

She might be planning to create a new nickname for herself with every battle.

"So loud."

Ragnar muttered as he walked forward.

"That crazy bitch keeps lying when it can't be confirmed."

Rem chuckled.

This one was a little cute, though.

Could the East be a place where people didn't live?

The number of people who would call Dunbakel a beauty after smelling her sour scent would be few and far between.

It didn't take long to clear the two hundred Drowned Ones.

The party cut through the horde and continued walking, even through the night.

The rain had become lighter, but it hadn't stopped.

It was a dreary day where a clear sky was nowhere to be seen.

It seemed as if a god was taking the Demon Realm's side.

The closer they got to the South, the thicker the ominous air became.

And the monster attacks didn't stop.

Naturally, the party's steps did not stop either.