A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Now that he had a goal, all that was left was to push forward—again and again, relentlessly.

And so, Enkrid did just that.

He had already seen the path. His hands had already reached for it. All he had to do was raise everything he had to the next level. Walking the road laid out before him had always been his strength, his specialty.

What he needed was precision, meticulousness, delicacy.

‘I’ve already learned it.’

Then all that remained was to repeat it until it became second nature.

And for Enkrid, there was nothing easier than that.

All it required was time. The repetition of today.

And so, he repeated.

Enkrid lived out each day, fully and completely, again and again.

“Do you think that’ll work?”

The Ferryman asked. He urged him to embrace despair, to learn from failure. He insisted that suffering was inevitable, that it was only natural.

He planted doubt in his mind.

‘What if I’m wrong?’

What if this was the wrong path?

It didn’t matter.

Even if he overcame this and another wall appeared, he would simply overcome that one too. Right now, he was walking the path his will had carved. The wall was a condition, but he was the one who set the conditions.

Not killing—but bringing her down instead.

If there was something standing in his way, then he would surpass that as well.

It was a resolution, but at the same time, it was just a natural mindset.

He had already felt this truth within his mental realm, and if the Ferryman had a tongue, he would have clicked it in disbelief.

But as he had no physical tongue to do so, he merely muttered.

“That crazy bastard again.”

The Ferryman knew—the conditions of the wall had changed.

And it was his will, the will of the cursed one, that had altered them.

It was absurd, but not impossible. It wasn’t unheard of.

Even the Ferryman had experienced it before.

Most people, once they understood the conditions of the wall, would seek the easiest path. That was why this was rare.

But what about Enkrid?

A harder path.

He had chosen a path even more brutal.

To endure and subdue the orange-haired female knight was already an incredibly difficult challenge.

But Enkrid had set a goal to accomplish it in a short time.

Because he had instinctively realized—just enduring wouldn’t be enough to get through today.

“Mad, but mad in the cruelest way.”

The Ferryman muttered again.

No one answered. As always, he merely drifted alone upon the river.

***

Enkrid never considered the wall before him to be insurmountable.

He had crossed swords with Aisia countless times. He had grown familiar with her habits.

If it were a fight to the death, it would have been far easier.

But he had chosen this path precisely because he didn’t want that.

People often said that if you chased two rabbits, you would lose both.

But what if you could catch both?

‘Why should I settle for just one?’

He had the repetition of today on his side.

Then all he had to do was set the conditions to catch both.

‘I will neither kill Aisia nor fail to overcome this wall.’

He would subdue her quickly and move forward. He would find his rightful place.

And that place—would be ahead of Crang.

Enkrid decided to make that his benchmark.

What would come next?

That wasn’t his concern.

If another obstacle—some buzzkill bastard—stood in his way, then he would simply overcome that as well.

It wasn’t as if he had never encountered back-to-back walls before.

But he had an odd feeling.

That man only appeared under certain conditions. That alone made it seem like he wasn’t truly a wall blocking his path.

The fact that Aisia had faced him first only strengthened that feeling.

If it were his wall, then it would have stood in front of him first.

“Rem.”

A new today had arrived.

A today in which he had decided to move forward.

The moment he woke up, Enkrid called out to Rem.

“…The sun’s not even up yet.”

Rem responded without even opening his eyes.

“Get up, you savage bastard. I’m going to knock the filth out of your skull.”

His tone was too calm for it to be a provocation, but Rem responded to the words regardless.

The savage opened his eyes.

Gray irises pierced through the blue haze of dawn and locked onto Enkrid.

“Alright then. Let’s carve a gravestone today.”

It was a signal.

A signal from Enkrid, inviting a fight where they would wager half their lives.

And Rem accepted.

“What should the epitaph say?”

He asked as he grabbed his axe.

“Pioneer Who Split Open a Savage’s Skull.”

“You really have a death wish today?”

Rem was half-serious.

“Underestimate me, and you’ll be the one to die.”

Enkrid warned.

Rem had no idea what today’s accumulation had brought.

So he would be caught off guard.

The same went for Aisia.

So—

‘If you can’t stop me, then neither can Aisia.’

The moment he stepped outside, measured his stance, and calculated the distance—

Andrew, rubbing his eyes as he walked out, froze in shock.

Clang!

A sound echoed, scattering the mist of dawn.

Enkrid, launching forward with Momentary Will, slashed down with his longsword.

And Rem, meeting the attack, stood firm.

The two were frozen like a painting—sword against axe.

Their breaths rose into the cold morning air, merging with the mist, appearing as if blue smoke.

Both of them were twice as threatening as usual.

“Shit. Did you have a good dream?”

Still locked in their clash, Rem asked.

“I dream that every day.”

Dreams of dying weren’t good dreams.

But there was never a day wasted meaninglessly.

Every single today had value.

Sensing his unusually strong resolve, Rem responded in kind.

“Good. Let’s die, then.”

Enkrid had already been doing just that—dying halfway to learn.

His fights with Aisia had been repeated over and over.

Enkrid had kept walking forward. He had continued.

By now, he had stacked dozens of todays atop each other.

The spar with Rem ended at an appropriate point.

Enkrid had taken everything he could from it.

“Sometimes, you’re honestly too strange to even understand.”

In the end, Rem said that.

There was no outright shock in his eyes, but there was clear surprise.

It was a feeling shared by Ragna and Jaxon as well.

Even Dunbakel, normally unfazed, opened her eyes a little wider.

Even Esther, just before leaving, had noticed it.

Enkrid ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the sweat.

Preparation was complete.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Repeating the same day over and over—reaching Aisia—

By now, he could do it with his eyes closed.

And in fact, he did.

With his eyes shut, he once again knocked out the forward-advancing, loudmouthed drill instructor.

“What the fuck?! Why are you fighting with your eyes closed?!”

Ignoring the dying man’s screams, he slit his throat, helped a maid to her feet, told her to hide, and kept moving forward.

He nearly ran—straight toward Aisia.

“Who’s standing behind you?”

Once he reached her, he asked.

“What?”

“I’m asking—who’s behind you?”

At Enkrid’s question, Aisia frowned.

“What do you know?”

“Nothing. That’s why I’m asking.”

“…Then why do you sound so damn confident?”

“Habit.”

“Are you insane?”

“I hear that often.”

“Either way, I can’t let you go. It’ll be a pointless death.”

“No, it won’t.”

“Prove it.”

A familiar conversation.

Aisia aimed her sword, and Enkrid, with his eyes closed, knocked it aside.

Bang!

“…What the hell.”

“There’s no need to do it again, but you’ll have doubts, won’t you? Try it again.”

Aisia furrowed her brows but did as he said.

She aimed her sword. Bang!

Once again, he deflected it. Enkrid swung his sword as if he had his eyes open, even though they were closed.

After that, he stopped focusing on it entirely, disregarding sword-tip aiming.

“What the hell did you do?”

Aisia asked, shocked.

“Just attack already.”

There was no need for words.

What were Aisia’s strengths?

What were her defining traits?

At a glance, they weren’t obvious. That was how well she concealed herself. It was fitting for someone who specialized in Phantom Blade techniques.

She began with sword-tip aiming, followed by parrying and rapid strikes. Her footwork was exceptionally fast, and she subtly used Intimidation in between movements to disrupt her opponent.

‘Then what’s her weakness?’

Strength. She lacked raw power.

And so, countering her was simple.

He would corner her with precise strikes and overwhelm her with heavy blows.

Bang! Bang!

Enkrid wielded his gladius in one hand, striking in short, controlled motions.

Aisia blocked each attack, over and over.

But Enkrid was pushing her back methodically.

He relentlessly exploited her weaknesses, honed through the repetition of today.

“You!”

Aisia suddenly shouted—not quite a battle cry, but something close—as she moved her feet.

She swapped her footing and leaped to the side in an instant.

With a sharp kick, she propelled herself off the ground, then ran along the wall, slashing down as she did.

It was only possible due to her quick feet and lightweight body.

It was also a result of Enkrid’s relentless pressure.

She kicked off the wall, moving parallel to the ground as she lunged at him.

He had seen this countless times before, but her adaptability remained remarkable.

It was likely a side effect of mastering Phantom Blade techniques—a vast range of experience had granted her the ability to counter unexpected situations.

Because of that, she was always within a prepared response range, no matter the situation.

Even now, as she escaped the precise strikes and the crushing pressure of his heavier blows, this was within her expected counterplay.

By kicking off the wall, she momentarily exited the range of precise strikes and escaped the pressure of heavier attacks.

That was the purpose behind her swift, acrobatic maneuver.

‘Then what if I step outside her expectations?’

After countless fights, Enkrid had figured out exactly where Aisia’s expectation range ended.

It was something he could only have learned through repeating today over and over.

And so—

‘I’ll surpass it.’

It was an impressive move.

But he had anticipated it.

Enkrid positioned his gladius along her sword’s trajectory—

Then let go of it.

Ting!

The gladius fell to the ground.

At the same time, he charged beneath her, using his speed and low posture to rush forward.

Thud!

The carpet beneath his feet ripped apart from the force.

Aisia had no time to pull back her sword, so instead, she drew the dagger hidden in her coat.

A short dagger, barely the length of a palm, flicked out of her left hand, stabbing forward.

It was as fast as Momentary Will, but he had already prepared for it.

This was the moment Enkrid gambled on.

If he succeeded, he would subdue her instantly.

If he failed, he would just repeat it again.

This was already his seventh attempt.

With absolute focus, Aisia’s dagger seemed to slow down in his vision.

Enkrid felt as though he was wading through mud, crossing his arms as he reached forward.

It was a Balraf-style weapon disarmament technique.

Between his crossed wrists, he pressed down on her wrist.

Her dagger’s trajectory shifted off course.

Enkrid deliberately guided the blade toward his stomach.

The outer layer of his leather armor was pierced with a dull thunk, but the bandaged reinforcement underneath stopped it completely.

In that moment, he twisted both hands outward.

Crunch!

“Nngh—!”

Aisia let out a strained gasp as her wrist twisted unnaturally.

At the same time, Enkrid’s left hand gripped her wrist, while his right hand opened between thumb and forefinger, then struck forward—hitting her throat.

Aisia’s dagger pierced into his armor just as his strike landed.

Crack!

A sharp impact rang out.

“Kuhh—!”

Aisia let out a second gasp.

If the first was shock, the second was pain.

Enkrid stepped forward, hooked her ankle with his foot, then grabbed a fistful of her hair—

And slammed her head into the shield emblem on the wall.

Bang!

Blood burst from her nose and forehead.

It was brutal. It was merciless.

But it wasn’t over.

He released her mid-fall, then dropped his full weight, slamming his elbow into her ribs.

Crack!

Several ribs shattered.

Her internal organs were likely damaged as well.

“…Hah.”

Only then did Enkrid exhale, rolling to the side and standing up.

Aisia’s eyes had already rolled back. She was unconscious, her face an utter mess.

Still—divine power would fully restore her.

There was no time to check on her.

Enkrid took a brief moment to catch his breath.

If he had hesitated for even a second, she would have escaped his grasp.

This wasn’t overkill—this was exactly what was necessary.

And so, after shattering Aisia like a broken vase—

The sun still hadn’t set.

Enkrid picked up his fallen sword and walked forward.

Straight inside.

He followed the sounds of commotion.

As he ran, his heart pounded alongside his footsteps.

Even with the calm and confidence granted by Beast’s Heart, his pulse refused to slow down.

Because something awaited him ahead.

And the anticipation of it made his heart rage.

He followed the sound.

At the entrance of a half-destroyed door, several men stood, about to step inside.

One of them turned—locking eyes with him.

“Do you even know where you are?”

A sharp-eyed man blocked his path.

His level? Unclear.

But Enkrid recognized the insignia on his armor.

A sword and the Solar Tree—the symbol of the kingdom.

The emblem of the Red Cloak Order.

Even so, his running stride never slowed.

Instead, he adjusted his grip on his sword.

“You’re insane—!”

The man thrust his sword forward.

As the blade streaked toward him, Enkrid swung his own.