Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 529 - Because Peace Lasted Too Long

Chapter 529 - Because Peace Lasted Too Long

"The Moonlight Fairy Corps is quite a reliable force," remarked Barnas Hurrier abruptly.

His adjutant turned his gaze toward him, curious about the sudden comment.

"I was just thinking it's a bit of a waste to use them like this," Barnas added, smacking his lips.

The so-called 'final weapon of Aspen' spoke casually, yet the undertone was clear.

"Still, we managed to show the enemy scouts only what we wanted them to see."

This implied that even the enemy's movements were being manipulated as part of their plan.

"Well, yeah. Even if it's a shame, you use what you must. Hoard something for too long, and it becomes worthless." Barnas chuckled.

Why was he bringing this up?

The adjutant had no idea.

As he stared blankly at Barnas, the man grinned twisting his largemouth upward, then casually struck a sharp-leafed branch blocking his path with the edge of his hand.

The solid, living branch of the tree cracked sharply and broke.

It was an incredible skill one the adjutant could never hope to mimic.

He wasn't even close to the level of a junior knight, so it wasn't surprising.

His talents lay not in physical strength but in commanding troops against unconventional forces.

In essence, he was skilled in withstanding knights—not defeating or killing them, but surviving.

Facing knights was akin to surviving a disaster, not truly countering it.

"I hope they make it back alive," Barnas murmured again almost to himself.

According to his calculations, the Moonlight Fairy Corps faced high odds of perishing—either clashing with the enemy or bypassing them only to engage with their knights.

Even so, Barnas had sent them fully aware of this.

The commander leading the Moonlight Fairies didn't know this truth.

After all, not everyone on the battlefield was driven by a sense of duty.

The Moonlight Fairies, being closer to allies than subordinates, were treated with little regard for their value.

The adjutant, carefully watching his step replied, "I don't quite understand what you're saying."

Of course, they would survive.

The Moonlight Fairy Corps wasn't a mere scouting unit but a valuable military asset.

If they were wiped out, it would be a significant loss for Aspen, not to mention damaging their relationship with the Moonlight Fairies, who had lent their aid.

As he pondered, the adjutant trudged forward almost shoving the ground away with his steps.

Traversing this untouched wilderness was arduous.

While Naurillia had cleared away magical beasts to allow passage, the path was temporary and far from well-trodden.

This wasn't a path for hunters traveling through the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range.

There were no small trails to follow, only the occasional signs of magical beasts or animals passing through.

The terrain consisted of jagged rocks and steep slopes, draining their energy even before combat.

The adjutant silently thanked the daylight.

Even the best-trained troops would struggle to march these paths at night. A sprained ankle in such conditions wouldn't just be inconvenient—it could jeopardize the entire unit.

Gradually, the rough terrain began to ease. The jagged stones and sharp inclines diminished signaling they were nearing their destination.

"It's just a thought," Barnas commented offhandedly, breaking the silence.

The adjutant glanced at him.

Barnas Hurrier was a man of contradictions—sometimes cruel and heartless, but other times, strangely gentle.

People, after all, couldn't be defined by a single trait.Perspective mattered.

Barnas Hurrier was such a man, and so was Abnaier.

A benefactor to refugees, a supporter of orphanages for children who lost their parents to war and even a figure who respected monks and prayed devoutly.

He would work tirelessly, sacrificing his health for the kingdom's benefit.

Yet for this war, Abnaier had devised a strategy that demanded victory built upon sacrifice.

Aspen wasn't moving with a small elite force alone.

"Wasn't this originally a force prepared to challenge the empire?"

Barnas had dispatched Aspen's knights—the kingdom's core strength to where they were most needed. Now, only the adjutant, the commanding officer and a small fraction of their allied troops remained with him.

"So I've heard," the adjutant replied flatly, devoid of emotion. Barnas clicked his tongue displeased but not enough to press further.

Abnaier had outlined the plan and Barnas agreed to it. They would be sacrifices charging recklessly to inflict any wound on the enemy.

How many knights would Naurillia send? Abnaier wanted an assured victory, and for that they prepared sheer numbers—entire armies to accompany the knights.

These forces would die and Barnas would carve the word 'victory' over their deaths.

This was Abnaier's strategy.

"Don't you trust me?" Barnas suddenly asked.

"I only hope you can ease my unease," the adjutant replied, shaking his head.

The battlefield Abnaier envisioned promised a decisive victory. He had brought forth all the forces and prepared even before Aspen's prior defeat at Green Pearl—a hidden trump card meant for later conflicts.

This time, no traps or schemes to weaken Enkrid existed. It would be a pure clash of strength. Abnaier's stance was clear he would sap their strength before engaging head-on.

This wasn't an ordinary fight—it was a gambit of fate, an audacious investment.

Deceiving their own allies and sending them to die on the battlefield? It was madness—a strategy most wouldn't dare imagine, let alone execute. But Abnaier wasn't just anyone.

Heroes who earned praise and fools condemned for defeat were often separated by a razor's edge. If victorious, no one would question his audacity.

"Nice weather today," Barnas remarked, as if shaking off the heavy thoughts while reaching the destination Abnaier had chosen.

Fifty heavily armored infantrymen stood ready, armed with solid steel spears. They busied themselves preparing for battle as Barnas casually ate dried meat and bread, ignoring the tension.

Armor clinked as they geared up—chainmail, plates and reinforced arming doublets secured with chain-reinforced joints.

Could a knight endure if struck repeatedly by these soldiers empowered with Will? Barnas doubted it. He was confident he could fell one knight per strike if necessary, slicing through them with ease.

But if a veteran wolf-beast knight suddenly attacked them from behind.

"Wow, I'm pretty petty." Barnas muttered to himself with a grin.

He didn't see this as dishonorable. It was strategy, plain and simple and he embraced it with unshakable resolve.

"Don't you ever wonder why we fight like this?" Barnas asked, dragging the adjutant back into conversation.

The adjutant wasn't oblivious. He understood the events unfolding but lacked insight into just how coldly pragmatic Abnaier could be. Or perhaps he did and followed anyway. Barnas didn't press further—knowledge or ignorance changed nothing now.

At the rear, their troops stood ready. For now, Barnas indulged his curiosity as the adjutant spoke, answering for his stubborn yet respected superior.

"Because Border Guard grew too big."

It sounded ridiculous, yet wasn't entirely wrong. Of course, Border Guard was a city and had no voice to object though if anyone would dispute it, it would be Krais.

While skirmishes persisted across the continent, large-scale wars had long been rare. Decades of peace or what passed for it had stretched on.

In the meantime, nations like Naurillia had grown complacent, their internal divisions worsening.

Count Molsan's achievements had showcased the kingdom's strength, but cracks were beginning to show.

For decades, they prepared—waiting for the storm that would inevitably ignite the continent in flames.

No one knew whether the beginning would be a demonic realm or some other country or perhaps nothing would happen at all. Nevertheless, preparations had been made.

"The nations have stockpiled their power. By power, I mean..."

"Right, I'm not the only one raising knights, am I?"

Barnas served as an excellent listener, nodding in agreement. His adjutant also nodded, a helmet with a metal visor that could conceal his face hanging at his side.

"Of course, the major southern nations and even Kairos and the Holy State, would have advanced to the center of the continent if Naurillia had fallen."

That was the commander's prediction. Neither Barnas nor the commander were prophets who could divine the future; they merely perceived the facts with clarity.

And yet, Naurillia—expected to be ransacked, fragmented and ruined at the hands of Count Molsan—had turned the tables repeatedly.

Its beginning was the Border Guard.

Its finale, the Demon Slayer.

They had displayed power without reservation, and through that, Naurillia birthed an exceptional king.

Sure, there were schemes and meddling from other nations in between, but regardless Naurillia endured and survived it all.

Those who had wished for Molsan's success now placed their next move with regret.

Had they remained idle, Border Guard would have taken Green Pearl as well and their momentum would have been lost. Thus, there was inevitably a weakened nation.

Who else could it be but Aspen?

It was only natural that Aspen acted now.

Those who had fervently prayed—whether through spells, faith, or sheer will—for Naurillia's downfall were still united in a single cause.

As such, it was almost certain that the South would provoke their yearly conflicts again, ensuring that the Crimson Cloak Order couldn't withdraw.

Kairos, in the northwest of Naurillia would likely make similar moves, while the Holy State might lodge some protests as well.

Some threats would be minor nuisances or mere verbal challenges, but even these were enough for Barnas to consider himself to have gained another advantage.

'Especially now that all their forces are exposed.'

The forces that Naurillia had supposedly kept hidden—at least from an outsider's perspective had proven their worth.

Their capabilities were made clear through their achievements.

Yes, they fought well. That much was obvious. But they had revealed themselves too clearly.

From Aspen's standpoint, their enemy lost their mystery while they themselves had learned much about their foe.

This was why Aspen's strategy shifted—from gradual probing strikes meant to chip away to an all-out strategy.

Admittedly, Aspen had been dealt a heavy blow and lost Green Pearl, which also played a role.

Here's the question:

What happens after they crush Border Guard?

Naurillia would then hastily dispatch the Crimson Cloak Order.

By that time, Aspen would have claimed Green Pearl entirely, patting their full bellies in satisfaction.

Struggles, wars, and chaos would follow.

"We've been far too peaceful for too long."

Barnas casually uttered a remark that would provoke curses from anyone who had lost family, friends or lovers to war.

Still, from a continental perspective, he wasn't entirely wrong.

After all, the skirmishes between Aspen and the Border Guard weren't considered large-scale wars.

As they bantered and filled their bellies, a rustling sound of wind slicing through foliage arose from the opposite thicket. Leaves and twigs fell to the ground with a rustle, creating a gap in the forest.

Light seeped through the opening penetrating the eyes of those watching. The light refracted through the lenses of their eyes allowing them to discern the figures before them.

"Just the two of you?"

Barnas asked upon noticing the newcomers. Their destination was clearly a battlefield.

It wasn't exactly an open area, but it was a space cleared enough for combat with trimmed vegetation creating a makeshift arena.

Two figures entered.

A fairy and a human.

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The human was a blond man wielding a black greatsword. His appearance seemed vaguely familiar.

"It's you, isn't it? That crazed murderer?"

The human turned his head slightly toward the fairy beside him.

"Have you been killing indiscriminately?"

"He's not talking about me. He means you. How dense can you be? Deserved to be scorned by the barbarian."

"Me?"

Shinar ignored Ragna's light jab and turned her gaze forward.

Before them stood a middle-aged beastkin who resembled a dog.

Beastkin youth was known to last a long time, so he might have been old rather than middle-aged.

"An old mutt?"

"Quick with your tongue, I see."

Barnas dusted off his rear as he stood up retrieving his weapon and slipping it over his hand.

Three sharp claws adorned the back of his hand attached to his wrist by straps and extending to elbow-length gauntlets.

"I damaged my claws fighting as a child."

Although he used to fight barehanded he had lost two fingers to Cypress of the Crimson Cloak Order ten years ago.

Since then, Barnas had adopted the claw as his weapon of choice.

Embarrassed by the switch Barnas muttered this explanation though no one present paid attention to his bashfulness.

Not that it mattered.

"Full squad, to arms!"

Barnas's adjutant shouted.

The human and the fairy both snapped their heads forward, their gazes fixed firmly on Barnas.

Their joking demeanor vanished replaced by sharp, unwavering stares.

Before them stood a heavily armed enemy unit, their spears aimed skyward, led by a wolf beastkin who appeared to be a knight.

"A knight, is it?"

Barnas asked, thinking fortune was on his side.

If there were only two here, the rest would be an easier fight.

The crazed murderer gave no reply, raising his sword instead.

Had this guy ever answered any of his questions from the beginning?

No, he hadn't.

"This bastard."

Barnas muttered with a grin, feeling the rising irritation that came with facing such a character.

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