A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 739: The Smiling Demon

“Get in.”

Enkrid didn’t say much more.

There was no need to strike them one by one like he had done with Harkventyo.

There were other ways.

“Where to?”

Jerry asked. He was a strong-willed man, but his voice now trembled faintly.

It was the pressure.

Enkrid looked far more dangerous than usual to his eyes.

If you mess around, he’ll cut you down.

The meaning was clear, even without words.

Harkventyo glared at Enkrid, limping. But what flickered in his eyes was not anger.

It was desperation—a feeble attempt to hide fear.

Ahead of them was a deep pit.

A trap meant to catch any large beasts that might appear.

The sharp stakes planted inside had been removed, but the depth was considerable.

Even if Jerry stepped on Harkventyo’s shoulder, it was unlikely he could reach the surface.

It had been dug at a slant rather than perfectly vertical, but that didn’t mean someone could simply crawl out.

Everyone began glancing around.

Are we really supposed to go in there?

What’s wrong with that outsider all of a sudden?

Wasn’t he supposed to be helping us?

Didn’t we agree that Harkventyo would go plead with him?

Enkrid shifted his posture without a word.

He could’ve asserted his dominance without even moving—but that would’ve been too forceful.

Uncontrolled pressure could make someone’s legs give out.

What was needed here wasn’t overwhelming terror, but the looming threat just close enough to feel.

As he opened his chest and twisted his waist, the handle of the Three Iron at Enkrid’s hip came into view.

That was the moment everyone realized what Harkventyo had already understood:

The threat of the beasts was far away—

But the sword before them was very, very close.

And there was no need to wonder which was more dangerous.

Jerry went down into the pit first.

A rope dropped from above.

Standing directly overhead, Enkrid said,

“You’ll climb out.”

Even if one used the territorial war between beasts and monsters to their advantage, surviving in a place like this demanded sheer tenacity.

Even without training, one's body would naturally grow strong just from living here.

But that didn’t mean climbing up a rope inside a pit was easy.

“Hrgh! Hrgh!”

Jerry scrambled up with all his might.

He’d strained himself so hard, even his palm muscles ached.

“Run. Over there. Quickly.”

Enkrid pointed lazily in a direction.

The pressure remained.

It felt like he was saying, I’ll cut you down at any moment. And it means nothing to me.

Jerry panted as he ran.

“Here! Step here, then there!”

Children stood around, shouting instructions like signposts.

Running in circles around a few trees, Jerry eventually returned.

The sky above him looked yellow.

“That was one round. Next.”

Enkrid’s voice rang out.

Next was a tough-built woman—stronger than Jerry, decent with a bow, rough in personality.

But she was just as scared. She didn’t ask why, didn’t argue, just went into the pit.

Then came a timid man who’d been part of the meeting.

He tried to be clever.

He was scared, but figured this wasn’t the kind of thing he’d get scolded for.

After climbing out of the pit, he ran at a modest pace, pretending to be out of breath.

He’d been good at running since childhood, so this was nothing.

Enkrid kicked the man’s thigh.

Thwack.

A light low kick.

The man collapsed with a thud and began slamming his fists against the ground.

“Ugh, ugh...”

From the sound of it, he really was in pain.

“If you try to cut corners...”

Enkrid didn’t even finish the sentence.

Everyone who could fight was made to climb out of the pit and run.

They repeated this more than ten times.

Their legs shook, and their arms were too sore to lift.

If a beast attacked now, they’d be easy prey.

“We’ll dig another pit.”

Enkrid said simply, then turned back to Brunhilt and the children who’d been watching.

As usual, he began teaching them how to handle a spear and throw an axe.

“This one’s better at it than I am, honestly.”

He even made a remark like that while showing them how to throw an axe.

What is this? What does he want?

They couldn’t even ask.

Even if they did, it didn’t seem like he’d answer.

Even Harkventyo kept his mouth shut.

The same thing continued for three days.

“Are you a demon?”

The timid man asked with a half-choked voice, nearly in tears.

He was too exhausted to care anymore.

Enkrid smiled and replied,

“Think whatever you want.”

If he wore that same smile in the capital city of Naurill, especially in a place like a salon, it would make several ladies blush.

Even if not, just at the city market in the Border Guard, many would turn their heads as he passed.

If Leona Lockfried had seen it—

That smile is way too easy to misinterpret. Stop smiling. I don’t want to die by a fairy’s blade.

She might have said that.

But to the man standing there, Enkrid looked like a demon—just without horns.

Who else could smile like that while pushing people to the brink of death?

* * *

The Ferryman narrowed his eyes.

He watched Enkrid in the present.

What the man had done these past three days... it was truly astonishing.

This guy.

Originally, if Enkrid had desperately tried to save these people, the Ferryman would’ve asked,

Do you think they’ll listen to you?

And maybe added,

Do you think training them will make a difference?

But none of that needed to be said.

Enkrid had made sure of it.

With just a few words, he grasped the situation and acted several moves ahead.

He already had excellent initiative—and now he was also calculating, intuitive.

This was the result.

He’d anticipated what the Ferryman would’ve said and moved accordingly.

You bastard.

Even so, the Ferryman couldn’t do anything just yet.

When he called Enkrid out at night, he had only one thing to say:

“Do you think it’ll go your way?”

It would.

He couldn’t see the future, but the Ferryman had lived long enough and seen enough to draw conclusions from patterns.

It’ll work.

Just watching that man move brought a new term to mind:

A master of the present.

Enkrid blinked and replied,

“Yes.”

“Go.”

“Yes.”

“Get lost.”

With those two brief answers, he left the raft behind.

The Ferryman closed his eyes.

He didn’t like how things were going—but he couldn’t help feeling a bit of anticipation.

Will it really turn out the way he wants?

He heard another voice inside himself, but didn’t respond.

Success or failure, you only know by seeing it through.

You’ve gone soft enough to have thoughts like that.

To that, the Ferryman agreed.

Repeating today over and over would become Enkrid’s anchor—that fact would not change.

And yet, he still saw hope in it?

No.

It was just another kind of amusement now.

The Ferryman chuckled.

The sound of his laughter drifted over the water, echoed back from the riverbank.

Prisoners are only given limited space, after all.

His laughter would always be met with a wall to reflect it.

— * * * —

If you don’t do as you're told, you die.

In the midst of this madness, they’d already suffered three attacks from beasts—one of which was a wolf-type.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Each time, this merciless swordsman had slashed, shredded, and crushed the monsters.

Not just with his sword—he used fists and feet too, like a demon.

You couldn’t even see him move before the beasts’ heads exploded.

Sure, the defense perimeter had shrunk now that everyone was gathered in one place.

Still, it was astonishing.

He alone had the strength to wipe out entire packs of beasts.

“Ah...”

Someone watching let out half a breath, half a sound.

Was it awe?

No—it was disappointment.

The fight had ended too quickly.

Right now he was using that blade to slay beasts, but once the battle ended, it would poke at the backs of the exhausted.

And Enkrid, the demon, did exactly that.

He prodded the backs of those too tired to move.

They weren’t wounded—but it still sent chills down their spines.

“Stop?”

He’d say things like that.

It felt like magic.

That sharp poke at their backs and a single phrase—and somehow strength returned to their bodies.

“Whuph!”

Just three days ago, when beasts attacked, everyone had gone pale.

Not anymore.

As blood stench filled the village, Jerry finally mustered the courage to speak.

“We should clean up the area.”

Enkrid simply nodded.

This meant everyone got a brief rest.

But if anyone tried to slack off, he’d notice.

And he’d approach with that smile again.

Then rest was over—and hell resumed.

Even with the stink of beast blood in the air, they had to keep working.

Then clean it all up again afterward.

They’d been tough to begin with, but now?

Now they were downright sharp.

Naturally, roles began to sort themselves out.

And of course, Harkventyo stepped up in the middle to manage the coordination.

After three days of that, Enkrid finally gave a new order.

“Everyone, grab a spear and gather up.”

Now his words were law.

Either obey—or be ready to die.

Even the toughest of them, Harkventyo, followed without protest.

The timid man nodded beside him.

“Better to die than take another hit.”

Oddly enough, he had real courage.

After getting hit like that, he still tried to slack off while dragging away beast corpses.

Enkrid kicked him a few more times.

He sobbed and writhed on the ground—but strangely, his legs didn’t break.

No, they didn’t break at all.

Even after a while, though bruised, he didn’t even limp.

He knows how to hit.

The timid man realized this.

And that guy smiles when he hits.

He could do this hundreds of times.

Without killing anyone.

People who’ve never been tortured don’t have resistance to it.

To the timid man, Enkrid’s kicks felt like torture.

“Don’t screw around. Do as you’re told.”

He warned them all.

Harkventyo, in truth, understood what Enkrid was doing.

There were two main purposes.

One: Erase the fear of the beasts.

Start by overwhelming it with a bigger fear, then train them to stay calm even when seeing beast corpses.

Two: Make them move as one body.

There weren’t even seventy who could fight.

And none of them had real combat training.

Harkventyo had natural strength, but had never been trained as a soldier.

Responsibility alone doesn’t grant new abilities.

But he could observe, feel—maybe because he was in a leadership position in the village.

They started to read each other’s breaths.

With just glances, they could sense one another’s condition.

Only then did Enkrid gather them with spears and begin teaching formations.

They followed well.

The training paid off.

Of course it did—they’d spent three whole days being driven to death.

Aside from pits and sprints, all they’d done was run in sync and shout together.

Anyone with knowledge would call this basic drill training.

— * * * —

Interesting.

As he worked them, Enkrid found a strange enjoyment in training new recruits.

It wasn’t easy, but in a way—it was fun.

The Ferryman had guessed right.

His experience in Zaun had broadened Enkrid’s vision.

Now he was thinking several moves ahead.

He knew the Ferryman couldn’t see the past, but could use the present to predict the future.

They’re exclusive—but they /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ must be protected.

Endless waves of beasts.

A mountain range.

Resources.

Brunhilt’s talent.

A lack of combat training.

So many variables.

All of it settled in his mind, pointing him toward the path he had to take.

He didn’t need to wrangle with the Ferryman anymore.

A month might be short—but if condensed, it could be enough.

The Ferryman may have hoped to stay here, entangled in their lives, repeating today forever.

But that hope had been doomed from the start.

After about two weeks, a spark appeared in everyone’s eyes.

Until then, Enkrid had ruled them with fear.

Brunhilt, though just a child, was sharp.

She showed her doubts with her eyes, but focused more on learning how to use a spear.

She’d already been interested—but once training began for the villagers, she became obsessed.

She could feel it.

The time Enkrid had prepared was coming to an end.

But she misunderstood, and assumed he was the enemy.

“Stop bullying them.”

The genius’s spear pointed at Enkrid.

It was nostalgic, in a way.

When he’d first left the village, that same girl—barely half his size—had beaten him.

A lot had changed since then.

“Hah!”

Brunhilt thrust her spear for the sake of the villagers.

Enkrid grabbed it and flicked his middle finger against her forehead.

Snap!

“Ow!”

She clutched her forehead and rolled on the ground.

“Don’t get cocky.”

No matter how much of a genius she was, there was still a gap she couldn’t overcome.

Still, her instincts weren’t wrong.

The end was near.

It was time to begin training for actual combat.

“Bring out all the stored food.”

At Enkrid’s command, Harkventyo nodded.