A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Andrew and Mac drew their swords.

Meanwhile, Enri repeatedly drew the bowstring of the shortbow he had brought instead of a crossbow.

He shot whenever he saw an opening.

If an enemy approached unexpectedly or if he saw a fallen enemy soldier on the ground, he would strike their head with a hand axe.

Thud!

Though he couldn’t split heads in one blow like Rem, it wasn’t as if the enemy’s head remained intact.

With a partially shattered head, blood flowing through the gaps in the helmet, and eyes filled with resentment or despair, they looked just like beasts he had killed.

Enri turned his gaze away, thinking such reflections were a luxury on the battlefield.

After all, that was all Enri did. The rest was handled by Andrew and Mac.

Even if they weren’t as fierce as those known as the “Madmen Platoon” they were still formidable.

“Do you think the Gray Hound is a joke?”

One of the enemy soldiers shouted, having taken down several of their own. He had a fierce look in his eyes, and blood dripped from the tip of the short spear in his hand.

Andrew faced him.

It took only five exchanges. He blocked twice, slashed twice, and then, with a swift thrust, he pierced the enemy with one hand.

That thrust strangely resembled Encrid’s technique, at least to Enri’s eyes.

Mac, meanwhile, efficiently cut down the enemy soldiers, ensuring that Andrew didn’t advance too far.

“That’s enough.”

When Mac’s words were heard, Andrew stopped dead in his tracks.

Then he began to pound his chest with both hands.

“Uaargh!”

What was that? Why was he shouting suddenly?

It seemed like he had learned something wrong from Rem.

“Come at me! Even these barely matured whelps!”

It was a clumsy taunt, and the chest-thumping was utterly baffling.

Still, in his excitement, Andrew fought well.

Enri watched the two of them, along with the others, from behind.

Blood spattered across the tops of helmets.

With the accompanying shouts.

“Kill, kill!”

The shouts filled with murderous intent.

“Please, no!”

The desperate pleas for life.

In the midst of the battlefield, where life and death mingled, Enri realized something.

‘This is it.’

While some cheered for the Crazy Platoon and others were moved by their actions, Enri saw his limits and realized that this was as far as he could go.

“Uaargh!”

Andrew let out a roar as his sword swished through the air, slicing through an enemy soldier’s collarbone and neck.

Squish.

He pulled the half-embedded sword out.

“Aaaah!”

The enemy soldier’s scream followed the movement of the blade.

After realizing his limits, Enri longed to return to being a plains hunter.

However, the plains he once knew had become a battlefield.

Now, returning to the city and living as the husband of the flower shop widow didn’t seem like a bad life.

She, that widow, who lost her husband in the war and was raising a child alone—she was a strong woman.

Enri missed the flower shop widow very much. He wanted to leave the battlefield and return to her immediately.

It was fitting to end the life of Enri the hunter, Enri the soldier, here.

“So sentimental.”

Enri muttered to himself as he watched the battlefield nearing its end.

The enemy commander was very quick on his feet. His judgment was swift.

At some point, the commander’s flag and his escort had quietly slipped away.

Most of the remaining troops surrendered.

Only a few resisted.

The battle was coming to an end.

In the midst of this.

“Hail to the madmen!”

Cheers, the likes of which had never been heard before, pierced the air.

It was the cry of victory.

* * *

The commander of Aspen’s forces was fleeing in haste.

“Damn bastards.”

He was a capable commander, so he quickly grasped the situation.

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Who was it that overturned the battlefield?

Where did the wind of change start blowing?

The guy with the axe and a few others.

Intelligence was needed. He had to inform them that there were dangerous individuals among the enemy.

Although he had already sent a pigeon.

As a commander who had experienced it firsthand, he felt the weight of final responsibility…

“I thought it was a false dawn. You bastards!”

His heart sank.

A sudden shout, a unit armed with various weapons blocking the rear. They seemed to be an independent force.

They were not allies. Definitely not.

The eagle emblem on their right shoulders was clearly visible.

“Did we lose because those guys weren’t there?”

The commander muttered to himself, his escort surrounding him tightly.

But that was the limit.

“The Slaughterer of the Frontier bastards.”

The enemy, Naurillia’s proud combat unit, was the Slaughterer of the Frontier.

They had bypassed the battlefield and secretly ambushed this location.

Their purpose was to disrupt the returning enemy forces, reduce their numbers, and demoralize them.

Originally, it would have been a meaningless move if the Giant’s blow had landed properly, but now it was a critical hit.

The Border Guard was also taken aback.

They were supposed to attack the rear and discreetly harass the enemy from behind.

But what was this?

The enemy had become a pack of pursued wild dogs.

It was not the time to consider the situation carefully.

The Border Guard Captain did what needed to be done.

Upon confirming Aspen’s rear was undefended, he switched the strategy to an ambush instead of overtaking the rear positions.

If the enemy hadn’t come, they planned to return to their main force, but since they had come…

“Take them all down.”

The Border Guard Captain issued the death sentence.

The enemy commander and his escort resisted, but the outcome remained unchanged.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

The commander shouted as he charged forward. It was quite an impressive scene.

Shouting for retreat while not fleeing but instead charging in, it was clear he was trying to save as many of his soldiers as possible.

Such an act deserved respect.

The Border Guard Captain stepped forward personally.

Klang! Klang! Klang!

In his hands was a flail, with the iron ball at the end spinning and the chain clinking.

“I’ll send you off properly.”

The captain kept his word.

The fight was brief. One side was originally a commander renowned for his strength.

The other side was specialized in strategic thinking.

Swish.

The iron ball at the end of the flail moved in an erratic trajectory.

Thud!

The head of Aspen’s commander shattered, with blood and brain matter splattering.

That was the end of it.

“Aaaah!”

It didn’t take long to deal with the remaining fleeing soldiers.

Thwack!

With an axe embedded in the last enemy soldier’s head, the battle concluded.

It was a scene befitting the title of “The Slaughterer of the Frontier”.

As they left the scene of the massacre behind, the Border Guard Captain spoke.

“Return to base.”

The Border Guard quickly moved back to their main camp.

Their intention had been to disrupt the enemy’s retreat or cut off their supply lines, not to crack the commander’s skull.

How had the battle turned out like this?

Curiosity, intrigue, and expectation mixed as they moved.

And finally, what they saw there was their own forces cheering in victory.

The victory on the battlefield was evident to all, marked by the overwhelming dominance they had displayed.

And there was no question about who was at the center of it all.

They were the ones who had shattered the enemy’s prepared defenses in every encounter.

And the man who led these warriors.

The unit he commanded.

Among the cheers, the name of the group resounded.

“Madmen Platooooon!”

“Crazy! Cra-zy!”

“You crazy bastards!”

Battalion Commander Marcus didn’t stop the cheers.

In fact, he made sure everyone knew who the heroes of this battle were. He had messengers shout the name of the Madmen Platoon.

Amidst the cheers.

Encrid and the Madmen Platoon stood there.

Surrounded by a circle of their own troops.

Torres also saw them and looked at Encrid’s face, thinking.

“It’s definitely a group of madmen.”

Where was the normalcy in any of them?

And though no one would admit it.

From what he had experienced.

Encrid was also a madman.

For many reasons, but the biggest one was.

‘The fact that he thrives among those crazy bastards.’

Wasn’t that proof of madness?

Moreover, he seemed to fit in perfectly.

* * *

The Fairy Company Commander murmured as she watched the cheers and the flow of the battlefield.

“Spring has its own magic.”

Spring, the season of gentle breezes, had returned.

The battle, which had begun at dawn, ended around midday.

As the sun passed overhead, a warm wind blew.

Spring.

Like flowers born in winter and blooming in spring.

The warm wind following the bitter cold always carried a certain magic.

Before the magic of spring, signaling a new beginning.

A man imbued with that magic stood tall, receiving the cheers of everyone.

The Fairy Company Commander’s gaze followed the man cloaked in the magic of spring.

Encrid.

The face of the man leading the Madmen Platoon came into her view.

* * *

Encrid enjoyed the cheers of the battlefield.

‘Not bad.’

People shouting his name.

Calling for the Madmen Platoon.

He knew who had changed the course of this battle.

It was his platoon members who had done it.

Rem had killed the Giant.

Audin had broken the enemy’s formation.

Jaxon must have done something as well, though he hadn’t asked or heard about it yet. But he was sure of it.

And then, he and Ragna had taken down those who appeared on the right side of the battlefield.

The ten mercenaries wielding deadly swords.

If left alone, they would have cut down their own forces.

‘Well done.’

It wasn’t bad. So it was alright to enjoy these cheers.

“Feels good, huh?”

Rem laughed nearby.

“Yeah.”

Encrid responded honestly, as usual.

“Seriously, you’re such a straightforward person.”

Rem grumbled, giving up on teasing him.

Why was he so quick to accept things?

Just then, others returned.

“Reporting back under Andrew’s command.”

No matter how much Rem beat him or how Audin threatened him with soft words, Andrew was proud to be the Squad leader of the Madmen Platoon.

Just by looking at the blood speckled on their helmets, it was clear they had fought quite fiercely.

Encrid nodded.

“Did you bring back a commander’s head? Or maybe the Giant’s balls?”

Failing to tease his Platoon leader, Rem turned his sights on Andrew.

“Well, instead of one Giant, it felt like I took down two hundred men with my own hands.”

It was clearly a boast. Everyone knew it was a boast.

But everyone also knew that, so it didn’t sound bad.

There was a certain lightness in the atmosphere within the platoon.

“Bullshit.”

Rem ended the conversation with a chuckle.

Ragna, too, seemed to have found a way to calm whatever had been boiling within him. He was now as relaxed and languid as usual.

Most notably, Jaxon was also smiling.

And as for Audin, there was nothing more to be said.

With his serene demeanor, he looked like a paladin summoned by the Gods, especially when the light behind him shone just right.

He gently surveyed the surroundings, even while holding a club stained dark red, the atmosphere remained calm.

Krais watched everyone and pondered.

‘How did things turn out like this?’

It was one of Krais’s habits to deduce the cause from the result.

‘Did it start with that sparring session?’

Krais prided himself on being the most perceptive in the platoon.

He sensed a peculiar atmosphere change after Encrid returned and the sparring sessions began.

Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, Audin.

The four who were the core of their combat strength had a change in demeanor.

They seemed to be in better spirits? That was the simple explanation.

Digging deeper, it felt as if some burden had been lifted.

Could it have been from just one sparring session? They sparred daily, after all.

‘No, that’s not it.’

He remembered seeing the Platoon leader fight Frog.

He also saw him bite off the enemy commander’s ear afterward.

Whether it was the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique or some other style.

That wasn’t what mattered.

Krais had observed his Platoon leader for a long time.

The same was true for the others.

‘Growth.’

A remarkable growth.

Even though they knew Encrid would never reach the same level as them, they had helped him nonetheless.

They wanted to see him rise, walk, and run.

But all the platoon members knew. They couldn’t ignore the reality that they had seen many who couldn’t surpass the limits of their talent.

No matter what Encrid did, standing alongside them was impossible.

But now, what was it?

“Well done, everyone.”

Encrid stood before all the platoon members and spoke.

Krais, looking at Encrid’s back, felt a surge of emotion.

He was the same Platoon leader as always, yet different in a way.

The afternoon sunlight, the warm breeze, the scent of the battlefield, the smell of rusted iron and blood, the aroma of death.

All these elements blended together and then faded away.

Krais admitted to himself that he was under some kind of spell.

Just looking at Encrid felt like being caught in a captivating enchantment.

It could be called the magic of spring.

As the saying goes, spring carries a certain magic.

The gazes of all the platoon members watching Encrid became similar.

And it wasn’t just them.

Battalion Commander Marcus, who had been observing from the side, had a similar expression as he approached.

“Raise a cheer.”

The Battalion Commander walked up and spoke.

Marcus smiled at Encrid, who turned to look at him.

“A cheer for the greatest hero of the battlefield.”

Amid the cheers and shouts for the Madmen Platoon, the Battalion Commander’s words spread widely.

A cheer that seemed to break the spring sky erupted.

Uwaaah!

It was the shout of those intoxicated by the joy of victory and the magic of spring.

It was the joy brought by victory on the battlefield.

Ultimately, it was a cheer for those who had achieved victory.

Encrid quietly enjoyed the cheer.

It wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

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