Eternally Regressing Knight

“You don’t know me, but do you know this?”
“Repent to the One True God, you bitch.”
The Wolf Bishop spoke.
At his gesture, the pack of beasts moved.

Leading the charge were two large wolves, with a dozen wolf-beasts following them, their yellow eyes gleaming as they drooled. Their exposed fangs looked sharp enough to pierce the flesh of giants or anything else.

Teresa didn’t move.
She held her shield in her left hand, her right arm hanging loosely.

“There are truly many interesting things in this world.”
Teresa said what she wanted to say.

“Traitor, apostate, let’s see how pretty your innards are.”
He said what he wanted to say too.

The Wolf Bishop scoffed.
He would tear her apart and kill her.
He would cut off her limbs and take out her intestines, showing them to her face.

The bishop knew this was possible. He knew how resilient a blade was Teresa. He was the one who had used her skills and power.

“I enjoy fighting.”
And doing so crazily.

A smile twisted on her face under his mask. It was a smile, not meant for anyone, just a natural expression.

The Wolf Bishop didn’t listen to the apostate’s words.
Nonetheless, Teresa spoke.

“Have you ever seen a giant fight with joy?”

No, he hadn’t.
The bishop’s eyes began to slowly turn yellow.

“You rotten bitch.”
The bishop recalled Teresa’s indifferent gaze from when she was his underling, remembering how she looked at him with that deadpan expression.

“Don’t think you’ll die easily.”

“I’ll show you.”

A brief word gleamed like a light of determination.
Since when had this been? Was it after her hair was cut by Enkrid? Or was it after that?

Teresa did not lower her stance.

But was the opponent in front of her someone worthy of respect? If there hadn’t been such people, would it have been easier for her to escape the clutches of the cult?

It made her question life itself.
If there had only been proper people, perhaps she would have had faith instead of doubt.

No, should she call them benefactors?
If they were benefactors, she should repay them, and she would do that with her sword and shield.

The Wildling’s blessing was enough for that.

As she thought that, hair began to grow from the bishop’s yellow eyes, pushing through his skin.

The sound of the thick, coarse hair piercing through his skin was as harsh as it was strong.

“Ugh…”
The bishop groaned. The transformation was painful. He was a werewolf, and that was his true nature.

Thick fur sprouted across his entire body, and his fingernails elongated, turning into sharp claws.

Eight clawed daggers, four on each hand, formed from his nails.

These claws were so sharp and hard that they could cut through even well-crafted swords.

Auuu!
The transformed bishop threw his head back and howled.

The werewolf’s howl reverberated, and its sound made the intestines churn. It disturbed the mind, spreading fear.

Teresa, even then, was unmoved, and even now, she remained unaffected. Whether the bishop stripped his clothes or transformed, her expression did not change.

She held no grudge. She didn’t resent him for showing his perverse desire. That was simply her life at the time.

And now?

“This is going to be fun.”

A rough, yet pleasant voice echoed.
She enjoyed fighting Enkrid, and she also enjoyed swinging her sword under his command.

Her blood boiled. The giant’s blood surged fiercely through her veins.

Ah.
Some people find the meaning of life in power, wealth, success, or love.

Teresa found the meaning of her life.

That was the reason she left the church.

“I was born to fight.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, two wolves charged from both sides.

Teresa swung her shield leftward and, using the pommel of her sword as a blunt instrument, struck the right side.

Thud!

“Mm?”
The Wolf Bishop noticed that Teresa’s movements were different from before. She was faster and cleaner in her actions.

Originally, she was more suited to defensive fighting. She wielded her shield and relied on her stamina as a weapon.

But now, she fought in a new way. A hybrid form of a giant, one he had never seen before.

It made sense. Who had Teresa been with all this time?

“I’ve never fought with full strength before, Bishop.”
Teresa spoke, killing the two wolves.

“What the hell are you saying, you damned apostate?”
Despite transforming into a werewolf, the bishop’s words were clear.

He charged alongside the wolf-beasts.

Teresa smiled and swung her sword.

Whooosh!
A blast of wind from her sword sent the approaching beasts reeling back. The thick edge of the blade created a pressure that pushed them away.

In that brief moment, Teresa lifted her shield horizontally and moved. She slammed it into the ground.

Thud!
The ground cracked. The sleet that had been falling followed her movements as she shifted direction.

As she charged forward, she raised her shield at an angle, swinging it.

Thwack!
The corner of the shield struck the head of one of the beasts.

The skull shattered, and the beast’s body slammed into Teresa’s thigh before falling to the side.

There was no shock. Her body itself was as deadly as a weapon.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

As she swung her shield, the bishop’s claws stabbed from behind.

The sensation of the claws digging into her back rang sharply in her head.

The Wolf Bishop’s claws sank into her back. Teresa stamped her foot into the ground, adjusting her balance and twisting her body before swinging her sword horizontally.

Whoosh!

The bishop withdrew his claws, retreating.

His movements, charging and then pulling back, demonstrated incredible agility.

But Dunbakel’s movements were more dynamic. The Bishop lacked the raw intensity of a beastkin’s.

The ferocity of the wolf’s claws was not as powerful as Rem’s axe.

The savagery of the wolves charging from the sides was not as brutal as Audin’s punch.

“Hahaha!”

Teresa laughed loudly in the midst of the fight, then drove her sword straight down.

Thud!

The sword hit the ground, sending dirt flying and lifting the sleet up into the air.

Dust and sleet mixed and surged like waves.

Momentarily blinded, the beasts lost track of Teresa.

Bang!

Teresa, having disappeared, kicked the skull of another beast.

Black blood and brain matter splattered from the shattered skull.

“Let’s keep going!”

She broke through the ones in her path and cleaved them down. It was too much fun.

And what made it even better was that it was a fight for Enkrid.

Teresa fought according to her instincts.

The bishop sensed something was wrong.

He urgently called for a direwolf, but it was too late to help now.

“What the hell is this?”

Teresa’s abilities were far beyond what he had expected.

Teresa, too, realized that her skills had grown significantly.

Most importantly, she felt at peace.

Fight. Fight.

Fight without holding back.

Pour everything into it.

It was a joy, and that’s exactly what she did.

After a few exchanges, the number of beasts dwindled.

Thud!

The bishop, now in his werewolf form, threw three swipes at Teresa’s side.

Teresa neatly accepted the hit and retaliated by punching the bishop’s head.

Thwack!

The bishop pulled his chin back to absorb the blow.

“Damn.”

Despite that, part of his skull caved in.

One of his eyes popped out.

Blood, both red and black, flowed from his head and nose.

The blood of a man who had taken the blood of a lycanthrope and turned into a demon.

“Fine, let’s die together.”

The bishop spoke.

Even as he said this, he had a strange belief.

The barbarian mercenary was coming from behind.

There was something else that caught his eye. Was it because his eye had popped out?

Behind the sorcerer, another figure appeared. One that did not look like an ally.

***

“Ah, it’s been a while.”

This level of injury was truly rare for him.

Even when he had killed a noble’s son and was being hunted, he had never been forced to move like this.

Was it because he was next to Enkrid, or because the situation around him had become so chaotic?

“I just wanted to live quietly.”

Rem thought sincerely. Of course, no one else saw it that way.

For someone who claimed to want a quiet life, he was too violent, loud, and reckless.

Even Enkrid and the other soldiers knew that Rem would swing his axe if he found someone he didn’t like or when the situation called for it.

Rem denied it, of course.

Anyway, Rem had entered the forest to hide. He used thick branches to cover his tracks, moving with his back to the wind.

“They’re still following me?”

He didn’t even need to look. His senses told him. His back felt a chill.

“Persistent little bastards.”

Should he just turn around and face them?

Normally, his temper would make him want to do just that.

But if he killed here, what would come next?

This was enemy territory. Could he make it back to the main force alive? Was it easy to win without preparation? Would he sustain worse injuries in the process?

Ah, he wasn’t sure, but should he just take it head-on?

No, he couldn’t. For whose benefit?

If he died, that sly cat might smile smugly.

The bear would probably hold a celebratory prayer for his funeral.

And the lazy one would probably just fall asleep.

Though recently, that bastard hadn’t been sleeping much and seemed to be wielding a sword. Strange fellow, that one.

As he thought, he found himself deep in the forest. If he really wanted to escape, he knew he wouldn’t be caught.

Since childhood, whether in the wastelands by the desert, the forests, or swamps, he had never been caught.

There was a game in the western tribes called “chase and be chased.”

It was just a simple game. One chases, the other runs. Rem had never been caught.

When he became more experienced and ventured into true hunting, it was the same.

There was a time when a conflict broke out with a neighboring tribe, and he had to hide for over two weeks.

How did he manage it?

He ate caterpillars and chewed on tree bark to survive.

He lived by hiding and killing one after another, earning himself the nickname “Death’s Sorcerer.”

A sorcerer?

He was more of an idiot. He had run off without receiving proper training in magic.

His past memories resurfaced, fragments of the old days.

The ones who played with him.

The ones who followed him around, not knowing why.

Those who believed they were superior.

And eventually, the one who stabbed him in the back.

The betrayer, and the naive one who fell victim.

Himself

In the face of rapidly changing situations, he had to abandon many things.

“Those bastards.”

Rem thought about the ones who had chased him, and the ones who had beaten him senseless.

Even so, his movements remained practiced.

He climbed a large tree and plucked a few leaves, crushing them and scattering them. The thick green liquid dripped onto his body. It was a way to mask his scent.

‘If they’re using magic to track me…’

He couldn’t afford to run away half-heartedly. They wouldn’t just track his physical trail, but his spiritual trace as well.

‘Then, I just need to run until they can’t see me.’

It was simple. Even though there was magic that could track him, not all of it could see everything. Once he increased the distance, it was enough.

Now that he had shaken off the human pursuit, it was time to elude the magical eyes.

Rem moved swiftly.

After creating some distance, he dropped to the ground and began running.

The forest was familiar to him.

After losing the trail, he felt the sharp sensation in his back fade away.

If they came after him again, he’d just run again.

He took a brief break, sitting on a large tree stump. Now that he finally had the chance to check his body, it was a mess.

‘My side is bruised.’

A deep, blue bruise on his side. He didn’t need to touch it to know because of the pain.

His ankle was swollen. It wasn’t broken, but it would be difficult to move at full strength for a while.

Well, pushing himself a few times wasn’t a big deal.

At the moment he assessed his injuries, he mentally rethought his fighting approach.

No matter what anyone said, Rem was also a genius.

He was thinking of throwing a stone at the bastard’s face the next time they crossed paths.

‘It’s been a while since someone called me an idiot.’

It wasn’t an untrue statement, but it wasn’t a pleasant one either.

He had never been beaten by half-measures.

But this time, it was dangerous.

Rem looked around and moved to a new position, walking slowly. His steps were calm, careful not to strain his body too much.

Now was the time to recover.

He swept the ground lightly, gathered leaves, and peeled some tree bark with his hands.

“It hurts. It really hurts.”

He muttered to himself as he crushed the leaves and applied them to his wounds.

Mixing silky herbs with a citrus scent might burn his skin, but it was good for broken bones.

To endure the pain, Rem silently asked himself.

“Boss, tell me. What should I do with that bastard?”

Enkrid answered.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Why not? Why are you so grumpy? You only act like this around me.”

“You crazy bastard, just do what you always do.”

“Alright, I’ll do that.”

He answered, laughing to himself. Enkrid probably chuckled too.

He was such a strange person.

Watching him was always interesting.

The sorcerer barbarian seemed like he had come to kill Enkrid, so Rem had to take care of him as well.

After all, some of the western chiefs had even put bounties on his head.

It didn’t mean much now.

“Those who need to die should just die.”

Rem tended to his wounds, gathered more leaves, and set up a temporary camp.

He wandered around, caught a few snakes that had gone into winter hibernation, and started a fire.

Click.

Striking flints a couple of times, he created a spark and blew air into the embers to keep the fire alive.

The fire grew quickly from the kindling, roaring to life.

It was something he had done countless times before.

After peeling the snake, he grabbed his axe and used the long blade to poke into its poison sack, pulling it out before severing its head.

He drank from its blood, then split the body vertically, skewering it with a stick to roast it.

“It’s damn cold.”

He hated the cold. Even though he tried to close up the openings in his warm leather tunic, the cold seeped through.

No matter how he tried to fix it, it was still cold.

He absolutely hated being cold.

The well-roasted snake meat dripped with oil.

He ate it right away, and then, while at it, threw stones to hunt a few more.

It would be nice to pluck their scales and wash off the blood with water, but it was too much of a hassle to go to the stream, so he endured the smell and roasted them.

Having eaten enough, he lay down and slept soundly.

Rem rested for the next two days in the same manner.

He took short naps, kept the fire burning, folded his body, ate well, and rested well.