349 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

349. Diligence in This Weather "Diligent, even in this weather." Boom! As soon as Encrid muttered the words, a bolt of lightning struck. "Is something here?" Crang asked. Encrid nodded. The weather was throwing a tantrum. A sudden storm had erupted. Rain had been falling since they set out, but who could have predicted such a capricious change? It was such that even the weather seemed it wanted to befriend Ragna, notorious for his poor sense of direction. Yesterday had been a bright spring day, but suddenly, this storm... "Seven ahead, ten to the left, eight to the right, six behind," Jaxen reported. Ratatatat! The rain showed no signs of letting up. Seemed it wanted to dig into the ground. Even with an oil-soaked robe covering him, the rain, swept by the wind, slapped against Encrid's face, leaving his cheek stinging. The wind was fierce, making it difficult to keep eyes open against the swift gusts. Raindrops drumming against his clothes felt like arrows removing their feathers. Attack in this weather? That's more than just diligence. The enemy had an unwavering sense of duty. Or perhaps they came because they had no choice. "Are your families held hostage? Is that why?" Encrid called out, raising his voice against the storm, his words directed forward. As he spoke and took a step, his boots sunk halfway into the muddy path. Days like these made every step an irritant. Attacking in an ambush on a day like this? Wouldn't they catch a cold? He was genuinely perplexed. Though the path was called a road, it was more or less just sizeable stones laid out as guides. It was said that an ancestor of Crang, famously called the Wise King, had paved this route. Thus, the road earned the name 'Royal Blessing.' A road stretching from the outskirts to the royal family, a clear path leading to the kingdom. This was the core of the Nauresilian palace. It led to a lingering question. What could possibly confuse Ragna so much, even on this clear road? Coincidentally, Ragna, known to get lost at any moment, had just turned his body slightly. The group behind closed in step by step. The ones blocking their path were no different. Squinting his eyes to adjust his vision, he could see what was needed. Several figures donned in armor wielding short swords, while others stood with arms dangling. The leader of the group stepped forward to speak, or rather, he shouted, his voice slicing through the rain. "Are you mercenaries? Or regular soldiers? No need to risk your lives over this. We're only after one." Nonsense. Apart from the one who spoke, the demeanor of the group subtly changed. Wasn't it a technique similar to Balren mercenaries, who spoke while striking? The enemy had played a similar trick. Instead of focusing on the closing circle, Encrid abandoned the idea. The heavy rain made it impossible to hear clearly. Distinguishing anything amidst the wind-driven rain was futile. "Who?" Encrid asked knowingly. As he did, he brought his right hand to his ear, letting his left hand hang loose. "That..." The leader's voice trailed off, a conversational tactic to pique curiosity. It drew the attention of everyone amidst the tension. Boom. Above, the rain began forming some kind of shape. 'Oh.' Encrid was genuinely impressed. They had brought a sorcerer, it seemed. This was no amateur opponent. Encrid's admiration was sincere enough. He neither dodged nor brandished his sword. There was no need. Apologies, but they too had someone akin to a sorcerer. "Hmph." Behind, Ester, in human form rather than a leopard, waved her hand. As the rain began to form a spherical shape, it dispersed, scattering everywhere. It was breathtaking. Bang! The gathered rain exploded, echoing in everyone’s ears. Suddenly, the deluge overhead vanished. Instead, a wind, three to four times more intense than before, howled through the space where the opposing spells collided and blew outward. Encrid stabilized himself, planting his feet into the muddy ground. Whoosh! The gust threatened to blow him back, but he braced himself with core strength, bending slightly to withstand the gale. Naturally, everyone managed on their own. The assassins quickly ducked. "Sorcerer!" One of the opponents exclaimed. The enemy, too, wore oil-soaked robes. But the recent gust had stripped many of their robes away. Through the partially uncovered hood of the one who shouted, a glimpse of his middle-aged face, likely over fifty, was visible. His gaze turned sharply in one direction. So shocked was he that he didn’t even think to pull his hood back on. Where his gaze landed, Ester stood, stoically faced against the falling rain. Her robe repelled the raindrops while the wind lost its power upon nearing her. It was a mystical sight. Amidst the refracted rain, Ester raised a finger. Index and thumb extended, the rest of her fingers curled, she aimed at the one who declared them a sorcerer and whispered. "Arrow of Dmoureux." Her words, muffled by the rainfall, reached no ears. But the spell condensed from the wind, taking form, flew forward. "Tch!" The enemy sorcerer let out a small sound. Thunk! His head burst open. "Die." Ester's voice rang clear, only after her opponent fell. Encrid thought, in this context, shouldn't she have said 'dead,' rather than 'die'? "...What." This muttering came not from the assassin leader, but from the whip escort, who seemed in disbelief. Surprised? I was too. Encrid pondered internally. Knowing Ester was a sorcerer was one thing, but witnessing her overwhelming power was another. "Why are you so good at fighting?" Rem asked Ester, nonchalantly. "I’ve always been good at it." Unexpectedly, Ester wasn't on bad terms with Rem. Her straightforward answer confirmed this. "Nice," Rem simply nodded. "Kill them all!" The assassin leader regained his composure and spoke. It was only then that the attackers surged in from all sides. Did they quickly forget the failure of their magic? No, it was evident they were well-trained individuals. What does being well-trained mean? It means executing what needs to be done at the right moment. These individuals exemplified that notion. They maintained their formation, using poisoned daggers and crossbows to strike. They didn't rush in recklessly. "Ah." Encrid had experience escaping places where sorcerers and magicians attacked alongside soldiers and terrain. Compared to that, this situation was hardly a siege. Especially now, with Rem, Jaxen, Ragna, Doonbakel, and Ester by his side. And the enemy sorcerer's head had exploded right from the start. 'We'll overpower them with sheer force.' As this thought crossed his mind, Encrid swung his sword. Five crossbow bolts aiming for Crang ricocheted off his silver longsword. The whip escort retrieved a shield, blocking one side efficiently. Daggers clattered against the shield. The long, vertical shield fulfilled its role. Meanwhile, Rem plunged into the group of assassins like a raging beast. As Rem charged in, the assassins scattered in various directions. But the moment they dispersed, their limbs flew through the air. The assassins hadn't retreated fast enough to match Rem's speed. Rem's advance was quicker than the assassins' retreat. Encrid's gaze caught Rem's axe as it briefly paused after his charge. It was a weapon he had modified at the smithy. "Make the handle longer." Rem's axe had a longer handle than usual. If the tomahawk he'd used before reached halfway up his forearm, it was now half that length again. The axe cut silently through the wind, slicing and cleaving the enemy's arms, legs, and heads. Its reach in the attack was much greater than it appeared. "Missed, did you?" Rem turned as he spoke. The assassin barely dodging his deliberate axe swing came into view. Wearing a gambeson or steel armor was difficult in this weather. It was the same for the enemy. He wore light leather armor studded with metal, wielding two shortswords. Throwing off his half-loosened cloak, he shouted, "You mad bastard!" He seemed more like a mercenary confident in his skills than an assassin. "Do you know who I am?" he shouted. Rem responded with weapon in hand. But his armament wasn't limited to the axe. Lurking at his waist were two throwing axes dangling precariously, and a collapsible short spear rested on his back. Additionally, numerous other short daggers adorned his body. One of these sliced through rain and wind. As Rem's left hand flashed, a spinning throwing axe flew and struck the enemy's head. The mercenary's feet lifted off the ground, hands crossing the chest reflexively. Though the motion was one entered before death, the axes already lodged into his skull. The two crossed swords clattered uselessly as they slipped and fell. His arms drooped, body lost its strength. He landed flat on his back. The axe, embedded in his skull like a tree stump, stood testament to its presence. The pouring rain quickly washed away the blood. Encrid realized this wasn't just a kind of power that could overcome anything. 'They don't know.' The fact laid bare. The group of assassins targeted Crang, yet had no idea who was with him. They had decided quickly and acted immediately, speeding to cut off the route. The opponents were desperate to block the road rather than thoroughly evaluate the situation. Naturally, they'd been outsmarted. It was exactly why Kryce suggested traveling fast along the path. Encrid hadn't expected them to fall into the trap so perfectly. "Screech!" "Urgh!" Cries echoed. From the rear. Ragna was on a rampage. Each time the hefty, long sword in his hands moved, blood spurted from the enemies' necks. Was it exhilarating greatswordsmanship? No. With precise stances and thrusts, he killed them one by one. Rem wreaks havoc, Ragna covers the rear. And among them, the most exhilarated charged forward, causing a ruckus. "Here, here! Over here!" Doonbakel advanced, swinging her scimitar. She drew power from her thigh muscles, sprinting forward like a line of light. Three of the assassins targeted her with slings. They quickly twirled their strings and launching apparatus over their heads, hurling handmade bullets. The projectiles were round stones. Doonbakel's eyes flickered at that sight. "Who dares throw this bad luck at me!" Frustrations erupted that had built up over time. The speed and force they threw couldn't compare to when Rem tossed things himself. Doonbakel deftly drew her scimitar and twisted her wrist. Effortlessly, she intercepted the bullet with the broad side of her scimitar. The expected collision sound didn't echo upon contact. Was the sound swallowed by the storm? No. Doonbakel absorbed the bullet's incoming force with her scimitar's wide side and deflected it. Ting ting ting! She expertly adjusted the angle, performing an astonishing trick. The interplay of finesse and boldness was a marvelous sight to behold. 'Doonbakel, too.' She was among the ranks of the prodigies. Wasn't she? After all, if she weren't remarkable, Rem wouldn't have insisted on teaching her. She flowed with the motion, parrying the bullet while charging in. If Rem seemed like a raging beast, Doonbakel was an actual beast. After all, she was part beastkin. Despite her fur being drenched, it weighed her down naught as she raced forward. The broad swings of her scimitar forced enemies back or she would slice off parts of those who let their guard down and struck with her claws towards the enemy's head. If caught by her claws, leather helmets would be sliced open, failing their duty. "Where did such monsters come from?" One of the assassins yelled. Encrid deflected crossbow bolts and daggers aimed at Crang, tossing those that fell to the ground with a flick of his foot before catching and hurling them. A lucky dagger found its mark in the brow of the one who had shouted. "Oh, sorry. Were you talking?" The fallen assassin said nothing more. The dagger embedded in his forehead shut him up, and his body quivered silently in the rain-drenched mud. The relentless downpour showed no sign of easing. Whoosh. Boom! The lightning was relentless. In the distance, a flash lit up the sky followed by the roar of thunder. Encrid spoke nonchalantly. "Have you always been this popular?" This question was directed at Crang. "Recently, even more so," Crang replied. "You might rival the greatest bard of the continent." "It's just a fleeting moment of popularity." Crang smoothly countered Encrid's joking comment. Having pursued poetry and writing as hobbies since childhood, Crang also had a knack for humor. The whip escort wanted to point out that this wasn't the time for jokes but kept his mouth shut. There was a reason for this. The battle was nearing its end just as quickly as it had begun. Ester, who had killed the sorcerer, stood negligently beside Encrid's horse. Rem had obliterated the ones blocking the front by hurling a throwing axe at the fleeing enemy. The one presumed to be the leader died with his head split during the first charge. Ragna was no different. The six blocking the rear thought they could kill Ragna with just one successful strike. Ragna had merely created that impression, but anyone able to discern that would have recognized his skill at first sight. They only realized the difference in skill after being cut down one by one by Ragna’s practiced stabs, but by then, it was too late. Jaxen focused on side-stepping occasionally or stabbing the hearts of those seeking an opening, returning swiftly to his original position. The rest fell to Doonbakel. "Hey, where are you going!" She even called out desperately to the escaping enemy. "They’re getting away." "Ah." Encrid commented, and Doonbakel let out a sigh of disappointment. "Crazy woman." The escort uncovered Doonbakel's identity too. Regardless of her madness, it was clear just from watching her fight. She was certainly not beneath him. Doonbakel hadn't been idle. The beastkin who had rolled and trained under Rem was different from when she first fought Encrid. Yet, what surprised the escort the most was the man before him. Encrid. The man who tossed around jokes deflected flying daggers, crossbow bolts, and bullets in this storm with his sword. It was akin to a performance. He did it effortlessly, an astounding feat. Encrid was aware his sensory skills had grown far sharper and more developed than before. 'Is this thanks to the experience of being surrounded by enemy forces?' His instinct had never been keener. It allowed him to block easily, even without seeing. "You're truly a formidable fighter," Crang marveled. Corpses lay strewn across the ground in a slaughter. It was hard to tell if they would later become ghouls or Drowners, monsters said to be born only in river waters or amidst storms, but that wasn't a concern for now. "Let’s set out again." Encrid merely led the group silently. With the threat handled, it was time to depart.