Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 537 - Corruption

Chapter 537 - Corruption

Shinar glanced at Ragna.

Assessing his condition didn't require the keen senses of a fairy.

"He's not dead."

Ragna was leaning on his broken sword as if it were a cane, standing with one foot planted on the ground to support his weight.

His eyes were open, but they still appeared somewhat unfocused.

"If I try to kill him, he might still manage to black a few swings of her sword."

Even if projectiles came his way, Ragna could likely block one or two.

Of course, if an enemy with nothing left to lose hurled themselves at him, the outcome might be different.

But that was a matter to consider only in dire circumstances.

Unspoken, they had decided who would handle the enemy commander.

The commander had chosen to target Ragna first, effectively dividing their roles.

"Since he's alive, he should just rest."

If Ragna had died, Shinar would have been next to step in.

Knights didn't double their strength by fighting side by side.

The proper way to fight was to adapt to circumstances.

Although Ragna appeared to be on the verge of death, he was still determined to survive.

As for the enemies before her, they posed no significant threat.

The enemy commander, however, rolled his eyes and made his move.

"No surrender! Kill them all! We will carve our names into the Hall of Honor!"

In Aspen, the Hall of Honor stood as a monumental structure at the heart of the capital.

To have one's name engraved there was a prestigious achievement reserved for the dead who had sacrificed themselves for the nation.

Families of the honored received annual compensation, making it both a matter of glory and a means of ensuring their descendants' welfare.

Driven by these motives, the enemy soldiers retrieved pouches hidden in their armor and poured the contents into their mouths.

Some of the powder spilled onto the ground, but most of it mixed with their saliva and entered their stomachs.

Veins bulged on their temples and foreheads beneath their helmets.

Though the substance couldn't grant them the ability to use Will, it dulled their pain, suppressed fear, and temporarily doubled their strength.

This was "Fury," a black-market drug designed to evoke pure rage and force out latent potential.

"For the homeland!"

One of the soldiers, brimming with patriotic fervor, shouted.

Blood vessels burst in his eyes, and crimson tears flowed down his cheeks.

Others began bleeding profusely from their noses.

Five of them collapsed, trembling violently, unable to withstand the drug's effects.

The rest, however, charged forward, spitting blood and saliva, their eyes bloodshot with madness.

Ordinary people would quail at the sight of such frenzied attackers. Even the bravest might feel a chill.

Knights were not devoid of emotions, so feeling at least some discomfort was natural.

But Shinar wasn't fazed.

She remained calm and analytical.

"I can't catch him."

Her gaze shifted to the retreating commander behind the charging soldiers.

"Hyaaaa!"

As one of the blood-fueled soldiers charged at her, Shinar swung her leaf-blade.

The aura emanating from her weapon decapitated the soldier before the blade even touched him.

Though Shinar had the skill of a knight, she knew it didn't make her immune to physical forces.

If she allowed those brute-force charges to close the gap, even she might fall and sustain injuries.

But such an outcome was impossible.

Not even fighting with her eyes closed would lead to such a mistake.

With a leap, Shinar soared like a butterfly.

Her blade, resembling a leaf in motion, struck true, slicing necks and splitting skulls.

She moved with precision, expending just the necessary effort to eliminate her targets.

Meanwhile, the drugged soldiers charged at Ragna, only to fall before reaching him.

Leaving Ragna behind to pursue the fleeing commander was an option.

"Should I?"

Shinar dismissed the thought.

She couldn't afford to leave Ragna alone, even if he wasn't one to go down easily.

His condition was critical.

If the wound above his eye wasn't treated quickly, he might lose the eye entirely.

Pragmatism and efficiency dictated her actions.

One by one, Shinar slaughtered the frenzied soldiers while the commander escaped.

***

"I'm going to die."

Korwin had been gifted with an extraordinary ability for insight since childhood.

It was almost a supernatural talent.

After a few clashes, his intuition crystallized into one conclusion:

He would die.

No matter what he did, his death was inevitable.

Resisting any longer would only delay the predetermined outcome.

Korwin saw his fate, unchanging and fixed.

His response, driven by terror, was to flee.

It wasn't a calculated decision.

Against Rem, strategies based on foresight failed entirely.

That failure filled Korwin with dread.

His tactics worked against Barnas—why not against Rem?

The reason was simple: Rem didn't think before attacking. He fought on instinct, making split-second decisions to always find the optimal path. That was his way of fighting.

As the sling in Rem's hand whirled and the sound of splitting air intensified, it smashed the head of an assassin who had foolishly revealed themselves.

Even this move eluded Korwin's perception.

"How is this possible?"

It was.

Rem didn't calculate trajectories or strategies.

He simply threw the sling, aiming as the situation demanded.

There were no elaborate plans—only immediate, instinctive judgment.

Such an approach should be riddled with errors.

Humans couldn't always make the right choices under pressure.

Rem was no exception.

But when the red mist of a cursed dagger closed in on his back,

Rem, without thinking, raised his weapon to split Korwin's skull.

Korwin barely managed to deflect the blow, reading Rem's intent in the fleeting moment before impact.

At the same time, a red-eyed figure lunged at Rem, thrusting a cursed, curved dagger toward his back.

The blade, imbued with a deadly poison, never reached Rem.

A spectral wolf, white and legless, intercepted the dagger by biting down on its blade.

"I never said I was fighting alone."

Rem murmured.

It didn't matter if his choices weren't perfect.

He had something to fill in the gaps.

The red-eyed figure immediately released the dagger, twisting the hilt.

The blade glowed crimson, charged with energy, and was about to explode.

"Eat it, Cloud."

At Rem's command, the wolf swallowed the cursed dagger and darted away.

A distant explosion followed.

The wolf dissipated briefly but reformed, slightly smaller than before.

It moved like a cloud, floating rather than walking, and its ethereal presence drew the attention of both Korwin and the red-eyed figure.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Rem flung his sling, drove his foot into the ground, and swung his axe downward.

The sling shattered the skull of another assassin, his stomp broke the clavicle of an underground ambusher, and the axe cleaved toward the red-eyed figure.

Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next.

Though the axe swung last, it reached its target first, slicing through the red-eyed figure's head.

Korwin, watching from behind, had the perfect opportunity to strike Rem's exposed back.

Yet, instead of attacking, Korwin fled.

"I'll handle the front!"

Even his retreat was accompanied by a pitiful deception—a feint to mask his cowardice.

It was a being formed entirely of sorcery, a raw manifestation of it.

Confronting it with more sorcery would have been a mistake.

"Man, that guy is something else."

Even as Rem tried not to lose track of the fleeing figure's presence, it was pointless.

He hadn't expected such a sudden retreat.

All the vigilance and preparation felt like a waste.

But there was no helping it.

What's done is done, he thought as he turned back toward the crimson eyes.

"Even with a favorable match-up, the result would have been the same."

Rem had analyzed the source of his opponent's strength and considered the sorcerous dynamics at play before speaking.

However, the crimson-eyed knight, who had barely risen to knighthood by awakening and pacifying a sealed ancient spirit, couldn't comprehend the principles Rem referred to.

'Curse that bastard Korwin.'

Instead, watching Korwin flee led the knight to a stark conclusion: the situation was as hopeless as a ghoul's reproductive organs.

In moments like this, life or death came down to a single decision.

'Leave it to me.'

The voice that had tempted him all this time echoed again, a whisper from the ancient spirit within.

Under normal circumstances, he would never heed such words.

The ancient spirit was a type of vampire, driven by a singular desire—blood.

It was a being consumed by insatiable hunger.

But when standing idle would only lead to death?

"They said never to do this..."

Though warned against it by Barnas, the crimson-eyed knight believed there was no other choice.

He mortgaged a fragment of his soul to the ancient vampire.

Still, he didn't intend to go down without a fight.

He aimed for a partial contract, sacrificing just enough to survive while preserving the rest.

It was an arrogant gamble.

He had once dreamt of subjugating the vampire's soul, eventually becoming an unprecedented knight who wielded the power of multiple ancient spirits.

"This body is mine now."

But the vampire's will took over his body in an instant, needing only a brief opening.

"So, this is the present world."

The vampire's voice rang out, speaking in a language Rem had never heard before.

Naturally, it made sense—the language of the vampire's era had long since faded into obscurity.

Not that it mattered.

The vampire's crimson eyes shone brilliantly, radiating an eerie allure.

It turned to Rem, commanding with an imperious tone:

"Kneel before me, that we may see eye to—"

Thwack! Crunch!

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

The vampire realized too late that its charm spell had failed.

And just as it processed this fact, a massive axe cleaved its head in two.

The split head began to knit itself back together in grotesque fashion, sinews and blood vessels writhing to restore what was lost.

It was a nauseating sight.

"You insolent wretch!"

The vampire raged even as its head was still reassembling.

"How many pieces can I cut you into?"

Rem spoke coldly, swinging his axe again.

Thwack!

The axe struck before the vampire could even raise its arm—a response far too slow.

The ancient vampire, even at full power, was only on par with a knight.

Having just seized control of a new body, it lacked mastery over its movements.

It needed time to adapt.

But even if it had fully adapted, the result wouldn't have changed.

The gap between them was simply too vast.

As Rem's axe danced through the air, the vampire couldn't utter another word.

Its sharp tongue and fangs were shattered to pieces.

Fragmented into dozens of pieces, the vampire's remains writhed briefly before releasing a puff of gray smoke and dissipating.

New novel 𝓬hapters are published on ƒreewebɳovel.com.

Rem wiped his axe clean in the empty air and muttered,

"Foul thing."

Fortunately, his axe seemed unbothered by the ordeal.

Turning his gaze toward the direction of the fleeing figure, Rem considered his next move.

One had escaped, but the job was done for the most part.

It was time to decide—pursue the runaway or regroup with the commander.

--------------------------------------------------------

If you enjoy the series and want to get more Chapters early, head over to my kofi

www.ko-fi.com/samowek

Many thanks to azuring for proofreading the Chapter