Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 492 - A Vow of Vengeance

Chapter 492 - A Vow of Vengeance

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he spoke.

"Father, I will avenge you."

Once a genius shaman of his tribe, the man declared this as he cut off his finger and cursed himself.

It was all in preparation to kill one person.

Unable to succeed with regular thods, he would resort to anything, even relying on luck if necessary.

The man made up his mind.

***

Leaving the Silence demonic domain behind, the group veered southward, and patches of grassland began to appear. With the grass ca an increase in monsters.

There were two demonic domains in the west: one was the Silence, and the other was the River of Sand, from which no one returned.

The grassland they saw now was a place made barren by the Demonic domain of silence.

Naturally, the monsters weren't a problem for the group.

It was still like a picnic for them.

Even if ghouls, who fought like knights, appeared, they could easily kill them without losing an arm or a leg.

With Rem's assistance and Enkrid's current strength, it was a certainty.

Grrrrr.

When a ghoul appeared.

"Hyah!"

Dunbakel leapt forward to face it.

Whenever they passed by an area where monsters were gathered, they would often change course to move toward them.

"Let's stretch out."

That's when Enkrid would step forward.

Rem just watched idly.

'He's really improved.'

His steps were unhesitating, and there was no rcy in the swings of his sword.

A ratman lunged forward, thrusting a stick it had picked up, but Enkrid dodged it without looking and sliced its neck with Aker in his hand.

Swick.

The ratman's tough flesh was easily sliced through, and its head flew into the air.

Another ratman collapsed with a hole in its forehead.

It had been the result of the spark he had pulled out and used.

A faint afterimage appeared in front of the ratman with the hole in its head.

It was the illusion created by Enkrid's body moving at high speed. He was already elsewhere, swinging his sword.

The series of strikes was unstoppable and forceful.

He slashed vertically, thrust, and kicked.

All the movents were made in a single breath.

Three actions in one tempo.

It wasn't easy, but he was doing it quite well now.

Six more ratn died before the first one hit the ground.

Then a snake-like monster erged from the ground.

Enkrid had felt sothing strange beneath his feet earlier, and now the sandworm had appeared.

While large ones could create dunes in the desert, this one wasn't as big.

Though smaller, its girth was still as large as an adult man's thigh, and its tail tried to wrap around Enkrid's ankle.

Enkrid jumped forward to avoid it, but as soon as his foot left the ground, he quickly regained balance mid-air and drove the spark into the flat ground beneath the sandworm's head.

'How did he know its weak point?'

Rem thought to himself.

The sandworm usually hid its head when fighting, and its head was its weak spot.

Enkrid had intuitively identified and struck it.

Instinct?

That was likely it.

From a hunter's perspective, sandworms hid their weak spot instinctively.

So, Enkrid had attacked only its tail.

It was easy if you knew, but difficult if you didn't.

Yet, Enkrid had been relentless despite not even knowing it.

Reluctantly, Rem admitted it was due to Enkrid's sneaky, cat-like skills.

Rem's assessnt was accurate.

Enkrid could probably sense the enemy's location even with his eyes closed.

His sense skills had beco far more refined, allowing him to perceive everything sharply.

Fighting giants, killing mages, and sparring with Rem—it was clear to Enkrid that, despite training the sa way, sothing about his progress was different. It felt as though he was growing more each day.

'The sword just extends so smoothly.'

To explain, his physical state was always optimal.

He breathed easily, his arms extended effortlessly, and each movent flowed naturally, with the next action springing to mind.

If a ratman tried to stab with its claws, he would either block, slash, dodge, or counter with dozens of other attack options.

Enkrid simply chose one and acted accordingly.

The outco was predictable.

The sandworm was the sa.

As soon as its tail appeared, Enkrid instinctively knew where its body might be hiding.

He struck at the spot, and black blood erupted from the hole he made with the spark.

After killing a few monsters, Enkrid returned, with just a few droplets of black blood spattering on him.

He wasn't even out of breath.

Anyone who saw him would think he had just gone for a stroll.

A casual conversation like this would have been appropriate, as he returned completely unhard, having killed more than ten monsters, including the ratman.

"Insane."

Rem couldn't help but laugh.

Once they returned, he figured they'd have to force-feed herbs into the shaman to hurry up and find a solution to get him the magic.

Dunbakel's gaze seed unusual.

She appeared lost in thought as she watched Enkrid.

Luagarne simply nodded.

"Enjoying it ans forgetting your limits."

It seed she had co to so conclusion.

At any rate, the group continued moving.

When not fighting, they often chatted.

Whenever Juol beca imrsed in cooking, Ayul would tell an amusing story.

"Sotis, hunting groups from the continent settle near the western desert, close to the northern area."

"They say you can't co back once you go in there, right?"

It was a story about the outsiders living near the desert.

"Yeah, they just stay on the outskirts."

"Greed causes trouble. If you crawl into the desert, you end up as a skeleton soldier, but that's a long way from here."

Rem chid in from the side.

As Juol stirred the pot with barley, oats, and thinly sliced salted at, adding oil and frying it, he spoke.

"The hunters co for the jeweled-tailed lizards and jeweled-eared foxes. Sotis, they venture out to the desert's outskirts to catch them."

It was the first ti Enkrid had heard of such creatures.

The west was ho to many strange animals, and these were among them.

According to Juol, the animals had jewels attached to them.

The lizards had jewels on their tails, and the foxes on their ears.

They lived on sand and were described as quite wild but didn't die from exposure to water.

They were also said to be immune to poison.

While hunting them was dangerous, they would often flee if they were sprayed with water.

If you succeeded in hunting one, you could obtain a few jewels, but failing wouldn't necessarily cost you your life.

Then, what was needed?

"Maintaining your boundaries. Not venturing further and waiting patiently."

"Luck needs to be on your side. Just waiting won't guarantee you et them."

"Luck? Understanding their habits is what matters first."

Rem, Juol, and Ayul each had slightly different perspectives.

But they all seed to understand.

It took a clever and prepared hunter to catch them, and patience was essential.

Then, how many skilled hunters ca to the west to catch the jeweled-tailed lizards or jeweled-eared foxes?

Criminals, fugitives, deserters, debtors, and various other types of people—many who were desperate ca to try.

Naturally, the foolish ones often ended up getting into trouble.

Juol said that once, a rcenary group ca to hunt foxes and ended up raiding a tribe in the west.

Sizzle.

Juol shook the pot up and down. The salted at and grains bubbled, sending a rich, savory aroma into the air.

Enkrid, ever the attentive listener, added his own comnt to the rhythm of Juol's actions.

"So, what happened? This slls amazing."

"Expect the best. This is the western specialty, fried barley. What happened? They tried to kill a few, but they ran away. The rest probably beca monster food."

Occasionally, so hunters managed to wait patiently and return with jewels, but it didn't sound like an easy task.

And even if they succeeded, the jewels didn't seem to be enough to change their lives.

'If Krais hears this, would he organize a whole unit of hunters to co after them?'

It didn't seem likely. Krais hated leaving things to chance.

If, despite everything, they still wanted to catch the gemstone animals, they would first have to understand their habits and sohow find a thod, moving in a way that eliminated as much luck as possible.

What about Enkrid himself?

He wouldn't catch them.

Krona could be earned another way.

It was just idle chatter.

Sizzle.

Steam rose from the pot.

The famous barley stir-fry from the west was ready.

The dish was made with wild barley, oats, and various dried vegetables.

The seasoning was perfected with finely chopped salted at, and the taste was beyond words.

Taking a large bite, the barley bounced between his teeth and rolled around in his mouth.

As he caught it and chewed, the nutty flavor spread, and the harmony of the herb fragrance and saltiness was exquisite.

Without realizing it, Enkrid gave a thumbs up.

"Very good indeed."

Juol grinned with satisfaction.

The group tidied up the remaining monsters and returned to their tribe.

"Did you return?"

The chief greeted them first.

Once back, life resud as usual, and two days later, Rem ca and said:

"I'll be off. Don't cause any trouble while I'm gone."

"I never thought I'd hear that from you."

"It'll be fun when I return."

Rem laughed as he turned to leave.

What exactly was magic? He wasn't sure. But one thing was clear:

Ragna had reached the domain of knights first, but Rem would soon reach a similar level.

"If you're not careful, you could die."

The higher the talent, the higher the chance of dying. That's what Enkrid had heard about magic.

It was sothing Ayul had told him. He asked Rem about it, and Rem simply turned his head to ask back:

"Do you think I'll die?"

"No."

The answer ca imdiately.

At that response, Rem chuckled and left.

Enkrid also smirked and finished what he was doing.

In other words, wielding his sword, moving his body, and occasionally sparring.

"Isn't this boring?"

One of the twins asked from the side.

One of them was passed out.

The two of them alternated saying a single sentence, and Enkrid had wondered if the one who fainted would only speak half, but that didn't seem to be the case.

Enkrid responded to the twin's question with a question of his own:

"What?"

"Training."

"Why would this be boring?"

The twin fell silent.

Enkrid ignored the question in one ear and enjoyed the anticipation.

He had learned sothing from Ragna, and he would surely learn sothing from Rem as well.

That was what made Enkrid's heart race.

Later, Ayul ca and said it would take about two weeks for Rem to return.

Enkrid thought that wasn't such a long ti.

During that period, the fortune-teller tribe that had fled was captured, and a young shaman saved a poor cripple from his tribe.

It was said he had been a man the cannibals had been keeping as prey.

His face was covered with pokemarks, and his left hand was completely severed except for the thumb. He spoke haltingly.

While he wasn't exceptionally gifted in magic, his dedication to caring for the sick was remarkable.

Because of his own body's abnormalities, it seed he had a deep understanding of others' pain.

He cared for those still under the curse of Boramain and, like Enkrid, used the sa barracks.

The crippled man, always crawling on the ground, made strange noises as he approached.

Sssshh, sswhhh, ssshhhhh.

The sound of him crawling with his arms on the ground.

***

It had been five days since Rem left for the holy land.

Enkrid had gotten up early in the morning and was practicing the Isolation technique.

It was earlier than usual, and since Luagarne and Dunbakel hadn't yet gotten up, he was alone.

As he moved his body, Enkrid pondered a thought.

'If the curses don't work, does that an magic doesn't affect ?'

Does that an I can relax when dealing with shamans?

Probably not.

But curses don't work, that much was clear.

That created a small gap for Enkrid.

"You know the curse doesn't work on you."

The crippled man spoke.

Enkrid hadn't paid attention, but he noticed that the man's speech had changed.

There was no longer the usual awkwardness.

Enkrid was wearing armor and had Aker at his waist.

He was fully equipped.

Why was he ard?

There was no specific reason.

He could train without weapons, but today he had decided otherwise.

This morning, Enkrid had co to the conclusion that comfort was a compromise, and steady training and repetition were the true sources of strength for tomorrow.

So, it also ant checking his equipnt.

That was why he had ard himself.

Moreover, he was carrying the bow he had received as a gift, though he had yet to use it properly.

That was unfortunate for his opponent.

Even if he wasn't ard, it would have been fine, but with armor and a bow, it was even worse for the other side.

Enkrid could see dozens of possible attack lines, and he knew the opponent's disability was genuine.

The enemy was also within the range of his sword.

If Enkrid wanted to, he could defeat the opponent without even needing to take a breath.

"The curse does not work on you. You're our natural enemy."

The man said again.

Enkrid made eye contact, and he seed to recognize him.

He had briefly passed by him, but the impression of the man who he had swung his last dagger at after killing the Apostle was vivid in his mory.

It was him.

Was he a mber of the fortune-teller tribe?

Ah, he was said to be the most talented person after Rem.

A mber of the fortune-teller tribe, an exceptional shaman, possibly even more talented than Rem.

He was a young man from the west, too young to be so gifted.

Enkrid had noticed him too late; his greasy hair and eye crust were a clear sign, and his missing front tooth seed as if he had misplaced it.

Had he lost his leg due to the dagger he'd thrown? Did he simply cut it off because he couldn't move it?

It looked that way.

His appearance was a ss.

The man laughed.

But instead of joy, there was madness in his expression—madness filled with hatred.

It looked as though soone had poured boiling water into his eyes.

The steam of hatred seed to rise from his eyes.

His voice matched the madness, filled with such tornt, as though his intestines were being torn apart.

"You thought there was no way once the curse didn't work?"

With a fake, agonizing laugh, he continued:

"This is a magic I created by sacrificing everything—my future, my soul."

Why did it remind him of the fairy assassin he encountered when he was at Beldar Guard?

It wasn't because of negligence.

It was because of a gap that he had allowed.

That dagger, it was similar.

"I sacrifice the past, present, and future."

The man spoke and stretched out his hand.

From his fingertips, sothing resembling thread ca out and touched Enkrid's body.

It wasn't dangerous, so Enkrid ignored it.

But he reflexively struck out with his sword.

In the ti it took for him to breathe, his sword cleaved the man's head in two.

Crack.

The man's head split open, his brain and skull spilling out.

The world before Enkrid's eyes turned pitch black.

Even so, he didn't close his eyes.

The surroundings spun, and the world flipped.

There was a feeling of floating, a sensation he had never experienced except when being hit and thrown.

At the end of the floating feeling, a burst of light appeared before his closed eyes, forcing him to shut them completely.

The first sensation he felt was heat.

It wasn't like the warm sunlight of Oara city or the gentle heat of the west; this was scorching, as though it would burn his flesh.

When he opened his eyes, the world was yellow.

The sky was high, and there was only sand around him.

What was peculiar was that there were three corpses sitting on their knees in three directions, dried up with no sign of life.

Even without looking, Enkrid could tell.

There was no life left in them.

They were already dead.

Enkrid's strength was in his ability to assess situations quickly.

Let's think this through—what happened?

One thing was certain.

There was sothing he had learned.

Never let your guard down, no matter what.

Even if you're wearing full plate armor, a sharp dagger can pierce you.

He realized this was what had happened to him.

He surveyed the surroundings.

All he could see was sand.

Sand dunes, the heat rising from the ground.

He thought of one thing.

Wasn't this the river of sand they said you couldn't return from?

It seed like the last resort of his enemy.

A technique, not a curse, created by a genius shaman who sacrificed his life and even his comrades.

Since the curse didn't work, he had been sent to the desert.

Looking at the situation, Enkrid concluded that this was likely the case.

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