Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 468 - When He Spoke, and Rem Followed

Chapter 468 - When He Spoke, and Rem Followed

Enkrid spoke, and Rem followed.

The journey, which had been more of a leisurely stroll while watching drifting clouds, had come to an end.

The arrival of the giant altered the atmosphere.

Enkrid adjusted the direction of his blade, observing the giant's reactions.

His opponent seemed indifferent, blinking his eyes like an innocent ox.

"What're you doing—playing with your sword?"

Feigning ignorance, the giant tilted his head in confusion.

His speech was awkward, but Enkrid wasn't fooled by the clumsy act.

This guy...

Even as he spoke, the giant subtly moved his hand toward his waist—clearly preparing to guard against Enkrid's blade.

Then, he began swinging the massive club in his right hand, whipping it through the air.

The gusts from the swings stung Enkrid's face.

The sheer force of the wind caused his eyes to water, but he narrowed them to shield his vision.

Two thoughts crossed his mind:

Getting hit won't just leave a bruise—it'll shatter something.

Could this be useful for training my strikes?

He adjusted his grip on the sword, pointing its tip toward the giant's abdomen, and shifted his footing.

"Need help?"

Dunbakel offered, though her intention seemed less about aiding him and more about venting her frustration from Rem's earlier beatings.

"No need," Enkrid replied curtly.

The giant's aura was exceptional—unique, even.

Enkrid didn't want to let such an opponent slip away.

As his skills grew, so did his thirst for battle.

Enjoying the fight itself was natural.

Yet succumbing to that pleasure would transform him into nothing more than a killing machine.

Of course, that would never happen to Enkrid.

He had a dream.

But should he be forced to live without any joy at all?

Of course not.

That was why he neither conceded nor abandoned his adversary.

The fragments of exhilaration he'd felt when fighting ghouls grew in his chest, offering him a strange joy.

Was his opponent dangerous?

Regardless of skill, the sheer power of that club would break bones or worse on impact, regardless of rank.

If I can't deflect it, I might die.

There was always danger in a duel to the death, and that element heightened the thrill.

The whip-like motions of the giant's swings betrayed nothing, but Enkrid knew his opponent was watching everything.

His instincts warned him.

This wasn't a fool—it was all a tactic.

"What are you looking at?"

Enkrid's question met the giant's gaze head-on.

Their eyes locked.

Enkrid's blue eyes were steadfast, glowing like stars.

The giant's were dull, resembling clumps of coarse sand—a murky brown hue.

Though outwardly vacant and feigning innocence, the intelligence within those eyes couldn't be entirely hidden.

Deceptive eyes.

The giant's pupils shifted slightly.

Enkrid tried to read his opponent's thoughts but failed.

He wasn't a mind-reader, after all.

But one thing was certain:

He's not retreating.

At that moment, the giant halted his club mid-swing.

"Aren't you scared?"

The giant's voice grew unexpectedly soft, almost coaxing, as if trying to lure him into complacency.

It was an impressive act, designed to catch him off guard.

"Leave one behind, and I'll spare the rest," the giant said, without so much as wetting his lips with a lie.

Throughout, Enkrid watched only the giant's eyes.

A pang of guilt flickered—for thinking briefly of Krais.

Similar, but different.

What was the biggest distinction?

Truth and falsehood.

The giant's eyes reveled in deceit, taking pleasure in manipulating and fooling his opponents.

The stench of treachery and savagery wafted from him.

"Will you do it?"

Enkrid's narrowed eyes met the giant's question with a calm reply.

"Sure," the giant responded.

"I swear it on the name of Banatur."

Both stood rigid as statues, neither moving a muscle.

Despite their words, their bodies remained taut with tension.

The giant, Banatur, realized his opponent wasn't deceived.

"Are you mocking me?"

Suddenly, the giant growled and lunged forward—feigning an attack.

His movements reminded Enkrid of the mercenaries of Valen: subtle but deceitful strategies aimed at overpowering their targets.

The giant leapt forward, halting mid-stride, and brought his club down in a calculated strike.

A deafening crash echoed.

Even a restrained swing tore through the air, showcasing the giant's raw power.

Banatur wasn't a giant in name only.

Enkrid remained calm.

The ferocity of his opponent's strength, the taunts, the promises of mercy—all of it left him unshaken.

The Heart of the Beast.

This discipline instilled an unshakable serenity, ensuring he never lost focus.

Enkrid's blade, Aker, rose diagonally just as the club came down.

The blade grazed the club, shaving off chunks of its spiked exterior with a sharp crack.

The giant shifted his weight to his right foot and kicked out with his left, sending debris flying.

The splinters from his shattered club became projectiles.

Enkrid twisted his body gracefully to avoid the barrage and switched Aker to his left hand.

In a fluid motion, he struck at the giant's shin.

Crack!

The blade collided with a protective sleeve around the giant's leg, cutting through but not quite breaking flesh.

Still, the resistance was palpable.

"Agh!"

The giant let out a pained cry, but his eyes betrayed no panic.

Even as he feigned agony, he thrust his hand forward—ready to crush anything it grabbed.

But Enkrid saw through the ploy.

This was no act of desperation.

Every motion—from the scream to the attack—was deliberate.

Banatur's shattered club descended silently this time, the angle sharper and the strike swifter.

Hmph.

Enkrid exhaled briefly and held his breath for a moment.

A singular focus.

Time seemed to slow.

His senses expanded, perceiving everything around him, relaying the situation in vivid detail.

Fueled by the surging vitality of his Will, Enkrid moved.

With his right hand straightened like a blade, he struck outward, while the Aker in his left hand swung upward.

At the same time, he stepped forward, planting his foot squarely on the giant's instep.

Crack!

Crunch!

Snap!

The knife-hand strike shattered the giant's wrist, his foot broke the instep bones, and Aker pierced through and split the club in half.

Splinters and chunks of wood rained down from the broken weapon above his head.

"Graaaargh!"

Finally, the giant let out a genuine scream of pain.

It was real.

Retrieving Aker, Enkrid leaped back to create distance.

The giant, undeterred, dropped his club and swung his massive fist.

Whoosh!

The punch whistled through empty air.

One hit could have been fatal, but Enkrid had evaded it.

"Damn," the giant growled in frustration.

That too, was real.

Enkrid looked into the giant's tear-streaked eyes.

Those tears were also real.

He found himself satisfied.

While Enkrid was toying with one giant, Rem had already killed two others.

The fight on his side hadn't dragged on.

Initially, they exchanged blows at a mid-range, testing their weapon skills.

But soon, Rem closed the gap, entering the giants' reach.

Losing control of the distance, the two giants flailed their arms and legs in desperation, only for Rem to parry and shove them aside, driving his axe deep into their torsos.

One giant died, spilling its entrails through the gaping wound Rem had carved in its abdomen.

The other, with a hand axe embedded in its skull, staggered before collapsing.

Purple blood splattered across the ground.

Seeing the second giant keep fighting for a while despite an axe lodged in its head was a testament to their extraordinary vitality.

But even for giants, spilling all their entrails and having their skulls completely split meant certain death.

The three giants were simply unlucky—they had encountered monsters in human form.

"Who are you people?"

Rem approached after the brutal skirmish, directing his question to the sole surviving giant, whose wrist and instep Enkrid had shattered.

The giant blinked, seemingly pondering Rem's words.

"Why are your kind here?

You don't live in this place," Rem pressed again.

The giant, known as Bannatur, blinked once more.

"Ugh... It hurts.

Why are you asking me that?"

Feigning ignorance again.

Enkrid wasn't the only one who noticed.

Rem didn't waste words; instead, he drew a dagger and pressed it beneath the giant's eye.

Nearby, Luagarne used her whip like a rope to bind the giant's arms.

Approaching the giant at such close range was a dangerous gamble, but for Rem, it was manageable.

After all, no one expected him to fall victim to such antics.

Even kneeling, Rem remained slightly shorter than the seated giant but still held his gaze.

One foot planted firmly on the giant's thigh, ready to crush its femur at a moment's notice.

"I could start with your eyes," Rem said coldly.

"Unless you have another preference?

I've even been known to start with what's dangling in the middle.

Either way, I'll keep you alive for two days, at least."

If Jaxen was a master of torture, Rem was willing to match him if necessary.

He might not be an expert, but his extensive experience cutting people apart had undoubtedly given him a thorough understanding of the human body.

And giants, after all, weren't magical creatures with four hearts.

Their physiology was still human-like.

"Wait, if I talk, will you spare me?"

To Enkrid, the situation felt surreal.

He hadn't encountered many giants, but their reputation as the Red Blood Beasts was well-earned.

A species born for battle, known for their unrelenting combat instincts and refusal to retreat even in the face of certain death.

Yet, this giant had submitted after losing a hand and a foot.

He could still resist—Luagarne's whip bindings were tight but not unbreakable.

But instead, he cowered.

Rem drove the dagger deeper beneath the giant's eye.

Purple blood oozed out.

"I'll kill you quickly," Rem promised.

And Rem never lied.

"You're vile humans," the giant muttered.

Perhaps they were smarter than they appeared, though their language seemed rudimentary.

The deep, resonant voice carried a coarse, almost primal tone, making it harder to understand.

Still, their words slowly became clearer.

"Damn it.

No promises, just greed.

What's so great about this land, anyway?"

The giant rambled, his sentences disjointed, but the message was decipherable.

"All is as the prophet foretold," the giant declared suddenly, attempting to bash his head into Rem's dagger.

Of course, it didn't work.

Rem swiftly withdrew the blade and punched the giant in the cheekbone.

Thwack.

The giant's head snapped back.

Luagarne tightened the whip bindings, veins bulging beneath his smooth Frog skin.

Visit frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓ for the b𝘦st novel reading experience.

"It hurts!"

the giant roared.

"Did you think I'd hit you for pleasure?"

Rem quipped before twirling the dagger and driving it into the giant's eye.

Squish.

"Graaaargh!"

Another scream.

This too, was real.

The giant had been broken.

"This land is ours now," the giant confessed.

"We were told to take it."

"Who told you?"

"The great prophet."

Even with further questioning, little more was revealed.

At last, Rem slit the giant's throat with his dagger.

Purple blood sprayed forth in a high arc.

"We're still in the dark, but we'll learn more if we go deeper," Rem said calmly.

"Better if you don't follow," he added, echoing his earlier advice.

Enkrid remembered the moment he suggested diving into the demonic domain.

He had warned Rem it might be dangerous, yet he followed anyway.

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

In order to get more Chapters in advance head over to my ko-fi!

www.ko-fi.com/samowek

Thank you for supporting my work