A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

”So, what you’re saying is, you created five sword techniques, and all five of them are paths that lead one to becoming a Knight, right?”

Rem summarized what Enkrid had been explaining and demonstrating over the past several days.

Hearing Rem’s words, Enkrid’s eyes widened in surprise—a look of genuine astonishment, not quite shock, but still more than mild surprise.

”Why are you giving me that look?”

Rem, sensing annoyance, asked.

”You were completely hopeless when I was teaching and explaining, but now you summarize things perfectly?”

Enkrid spoke with his eyes still wide open.

At this point, anyone could tell he was doing it on purpose. Rem scowled.

”What do you mean, hopeless? If there’s a problem, it’s with the teacher, not the student, huh? And would you quit it with those eyes already?”

”It’s just that I’m really surprised.”

Rem, still frowning, twisted one corner of his mouth upward in a fierce grin.

He swung his axe without hesitation.

The swing of the axe was so fast, you couldn’t even see the motion of it being drawn.

The rhythm was out of sync with his walking pace as well—in other words, it was an attack deliberately launched at an unpredictable moment.

It wasn’t on the beat, but off-beat.

Enkrid responded smoothly to the axe swing.

Somehow, he’d already drawn his sword and was swinging it.

He brought it up in a diagonal slash, matching the path of the incoming axe.

Clang!

Steel clashed against steel, swung by human arms, and a gust of wind surged from the point where they met.

With a fluttering noise, Enkrid’s dark green cloak whipped backward.

This wasn’t a fight—it was simply a demonstration.

After that single exchange, Rem spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

”This is what you meant, right?”

Rem was actually a bit surprised.

Enkrid had blocked his sudden axe attack perfectly.

He realized now that he could no longer consider Enkrid beneath him in any way.

The man in front of him had received his axe strike as if it were nothing.

If Enkrid had dodged, Rem wouldn’t have thought much of it.

But Enkrid had swung his sword later than Rem, yet met the axe at exactly the same speed.

The fact that their strength and speed matched, even though this wasn’t a prearranged sparring match, was proof enough that they were both capable of much more.

Of course, Rem could swing his axe even faster and harder if he wanted to, but the crucial thing was how much Enkrid had improved compared to before—it was on a whole different level now.

Rem pushed aside his brief musings and snorted.

”That’s right.”

Enkrid’s reply was succinct.

In his previous move, Rem had eliminated all unnecessary options and poured everything into that one action.

Enkrid had understood the significance behind Rem’s display.

’A strike so fast, it defies calculation.’

It wasn’t just off-beat—the rhythm itself had been ignored.

His mind optimized his movements instinctively.

Truly, it was an astonishing skill.

If all this could be summed up simply as ”talent,” then it was terribly unfair.

”Show us the Straight Sword form as well, Brother,” Audin interjected.

Days of explanations were finally over—it had all started with the words, ”Wave-Blreaker is based on the Straight Sword.”

Throughout these explanations, Luagarne couldn’t hide her amazement and her cheeks had puffed with excitement more times than one could count.

”Show us. What’s next? So that’s how you used the Tactical Sword. I already suspected as much, but it’s still impressive.”

She kept adding comments like this.

It was swordsmanship suited to the five types—correct, heavy, deceptive, swift, and fluid.

The Wave-Blreaker Sword, orthodox swordplay, Flash, and Sword of Chance as well.

Of these, the demonstration of the heavy sword had yet to happen.

The others had been clearly shown, but unleashing a heavy blow carelessly was difficult.

And it couldn’t be demonstrated within the Imaginary Realm, either.

Only predictable techniques could be shown in there.

Therefore, if it hadn’t been demonstrated yet, there was no way to show it in the Imaginary Realm.

Naturally, Audin was keenly interested in how to channel power into a single strike.

Didn’t he say it was a combination of Valaf-style Martial Arts and Yohan-style Greatsword?

Fel and Ropord watched with eyes shining.

Somehow, there were now nine moving participants.

”I was just about to do that, actually.”

Enkrid responded as he gazed at the approaching monsters, unaware of anything else.

It was a Cyclops, a one-eyed giant.

It was barehanded, but even so, it was a monster that could tear through iron plates like freshly baked bread.

If such a creature appeared in the city, it was the kind that would have emergency bells ringing nonstop.

Was it because they had ventured deep into the Southern Demonic Domain that they could now encounter an unexpected monster like this?

Or maybe, after sweeping away all the ghouls, random monsters, and beasts along the way, this was all that was left.

Or perhaps it was just a coincidence.

None of these possibilities were Enkrid’s concern.

He’d been plenty willing to seek out such a monster, and now that it had shown itself on its own, he was simply glad.

Besides, it was a great opponent to test out his technique.

While the Cyclops advanced, their conversation ended. Enkrid’s foot moved forward.

He stepped out a few paces to welcome the monster.

”All right, watch closely.”

Despite facing the monster head-on, he remained perfectly calm.

The Cyclops’s arms were so long that its hands nearly touched the ground, and the muscles in its thighs were as thick as a grown man’s waist. When it stooped over, its knuckles dragged along the earth.

Thud, thud, thud.

On the barren ground, deep furrows appeared wherever its hand passed.

Even with light steps that merely grazed the surface, the hardened dirt was stripped away. It was hard to imagine how tough and heavy its skin must be to do that.

”We’re about to see something interesting.”

Luagarne, munching on a dried caterpillar, made herself comfortable.

She plopped down on the ground, ready to sit back and watch the show.

Although Fel and Ropord had only recently become knights, their ambition had grown even greater than before, so they spread out to the left and right of Enkrid, making sure not to miss a single moment.

Both men kept their hands on their weapons, lighting the candle of focus within themselves.

The burning looks in their eyes proved it.

The Cyclops approached, eyes fixed solely on Enkrid. It didn’t let out a monstrous roar. Instead of relying on intimidation through its voice, it simply preferred to tear things apart with both hands. After all, not all monsters shared the same preferences.

Enkrid strode boldly forward to meet the monster. There was no hesitation in his steps. He showed not even a trace of fear.

To an onlooker, it looked like suicide—approaching, only to be ripped apart.

Crunch—the Cyclops’s two feet dug deep into the ground. Its center of gravity shifted, and power gathered in its waist. In an instant, its hands, which had been dragging across the ground, moved at a speed the ordinary human mind could hardly follow.

Like a pair of hooks, both hands sliced through the air—one reaching for Enkrid’s waist on the left, the other aiming for his thigh on the right.

Smart.

Enkrid, observing with a relaxed mind, took note of the Cyclops’s tactics.

It wasn’t going for his head or neck right away—probably thanks to experience gained from countless past battles. This is why beasts that have survived for a long time become even more dangerous—they observe and learn as well.

That was a theory confirmed by Valfir Balmung, knight of the Empire.

No, actually, it’s a fact.

Enkrid slipped past the monster’s hook-like hands.

As long as he moved forward faster than the attacking swing, he’d be fine.

Channeling Will through his entire body, he thrust himself into the beast’s range, dodging its grasp.

That meant he’d entered the reach of a monster at least three times the size of a human.

The Cyclops immediately opened its mouth.

Its teeth jutted out unevenly like a warped stone wall, each one as large as a human fist. It looked as if it meant to bite his head off right then and there.

The beast’s two hands sliced through the air with a whoosh—the grotesquely mismatched teeth nearly met, and just as the stench from its mouth, fouler than rotting corpses, was about to hit him, Enkrid’s body began to spin.

Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted into motion like a whirlwind.

His cloak snapped shorter, clinging to his back.

To the Cyclops, it looked as if Enkrid’s black-haired head spun around in circles.

Gathering all his focus—which began as a single point but now spanned an entire realm of awareness—Enkrid condensed it into one singular force.

”Rotation.”

Simply training the body wasn’t enough; there were clear limits to that.

If one wanted to become stronger, to increase their power, what else was there to do?

If you’re not satisfied with simply smashing rocks in a single strike, this is the path you must take.

You mix everything you’ve seen, learned, and experienced firsthand up to this point.

Having created a few sword techniques himself, he gained a new perspective.

’All I need is a single strike.’

His body twisted around his left foot like a serpent, muscles tightening and releasing, the explosion of a single point mixed in.

’Only as much as my body can handle.’

With an unending reserve of Will, overdoing it would only tear the fibers of his muscles.

He knew that from experience.

The rotation began at the tips of his toes, traveled up his calves, gathered at his waist, transformed into force, and was delivered through his sword as it surged forward.

The blade drove straight into the monster’s body.

’It’s splitting nicely.’

That was the impression he had, felt in a split second.

He’d thought the Duskforged, his engraved weapon, lacked sharpness compared to Penna, but once he actually swung it, it cleaved through the monster as easily as slicing a boiled potato. The resistance he felt in his hand was less than with any other sword.

The Cyclops was a monster—its skin ought to be hard as rock, its bones just as tough—yet the blade entered and exited its body more smoothly than even True Silver, which had been made by Aetri.

After channeling the rotational power and cutting, he slipped out to the side.

To the onlookers, it appeared as if, right after his arms had crossed, the blade burst forth from within the monster’s body.

Along the line traced by that blade, black blood, innards, brain matter—everything spilled out.

And just like that, the monster known as a Nightmare, a terror over this entire area, died.

The Cyclops was known throughout the Southern Region by the nickname ”the Wandering Demon.”

Why was it called a demon, even though it wasn’t an actual demon?

Perhaps it was because of the sheer strength of the monster, but more than that, it was likely due to the number of people who had died at its hands over the years.

Unlike monsters that lurked in fixed lairs, these roaming monsters were far harder to find and to hunt. It probably managed to avoid knights for so long simply because of luck.

Enkrid split the monster vertically and slipped free. A few drops of black blood splattered onto his cloak, but the dark green fabric absorbed every drop without a trace.

It was a living cloak.

So was the sword.

Enkrid could feel it, beyond any doubt.

’You responded to my will, didn’t you?’

Enkrid spoke to his sword in his mind.

He usually oiled it and stroked it with his fingers; during those times, it seemed dull and unassuming, but the moment he wielded it, it resonated perfectly with him.

It felt as if he were fighting alongside a friend who understood him completely.

Perhaps that’s why these weapons are called Engraved Weapons.

After all, ”engraved” means a part of oneself has been inscribed into it.

”Brother, did you call that Vortex?”

It was Audin speaking.

Those with a discerning eye and some talent had noticed the subtle brilliance in Enkrid’s strike.

It was a blow wrung from the very core of his being, unleashing his full power in one moment.

It was as if he bent a branch until just before it snapped, then let it snap back.

’To be precise, he swings the branch with all his might, then lets it recoil like that.’

Or maybe it was more like pulling a bowstring all the way back, rushing forward, and releasing an arrow when only three steps away from the target.

At such a close range, it felt like the full force stored in the arrow would be delivered.

Audin’s eyes sparkled continuously.

This was a technique fundamentally connected to Valaf-style Martial Arts, yet surpassed and evolved beyond it.

”That was a valuable lesson.”

Audin said, examining even the corpse of the slain monster.

Traces left by the Whirlpool were clearly visible.

The size of the wound didn’t match the size of the blade.

The flesh was torn and shredded.

’He didn’t just thrust with the sword—he unleashed his Will as well.’

Could something similar be achieved with divine power?

More than just imitation, what would it take to attain this level of destructive force?

It was time to start thinking.

It wasn’t just Audin.

Ragna, relying on talent and instinct, was also analyzing the meaning behind each action, reverse-engineering the ”calculations.”

Rem too, and everyone else was the same.

They could have done this even back when they were Border Guards, but a change in environment brought a shift in mindset, and with that, what they could see and accept began to change.

You could say this was a time when everyone delved more seriously than ever into technique, swordsmanship, and training methods.

Enkrid would teach again what he had observed and learned from his own subordinates, and Rem, along with the rest, was unreserved in learning new things from Enkrid.

Watching everyone review and chew over what they’d learned, Enkrid, in turn, learned even more from them.

In a way, it was a strange and fascinating sight—everyone sharing what they knew, looking at each other’s methods, and learning from one another.

”I heard it was around here.”

Ropord muttered this as he walked for a while.

At his words, Enkrid and the rest turned their gaze toward him.

It had been about four days since they’d turned south and started heading down this way, and Ropord had pieced together some information based on the rumors he’d heard.

He’d found an old Demonic Domain in this area that had long been the subject of local stories.

Simply put, it was like the Gray Forest of the city Oara.

It wouldn’t be accurate to say such cases were common, but being close to the Demonic Domain, it wasn’t exactly special, either.

A scholar had once remarked that approaching the Demonic Domain in the Southern Region was like passing by a hundred islands. Having seen the sea before and even sailed near the coast, the image of a hundred islands wasn’t something that resonated directly—but the meaning was perfectly clear.

There would be a hundred or so minor Demonic Domains scattered near the main one.

”If there really are a hundred, how many do you plan to deal with?”

Rem asked, and Enkrid responded with firm resolve.

”All of them.”

If it was possible, that’s what he intended to do.

It wasn’t that he absolutely had to do it.

Rem nodded.

That’s just the kind of person the Commander was.

If they hadn’t met that Cyclops this time, he would have made a point to track it down.

How could he just pass by a monster known as the ”Demon,” and leave it be?

That would never do.

Even out of curiosity alone, he’d have to face it.

”Over there,”

Jaxen said, pointing to one side, and Shinar nodded in agreement.

Among the group, Shinar had the keenest senses and the ability to identify things based on what felt out of place.

It was a forest thick with deep brown leaves.

Not a Gray Forest, but what people called a Brown Forest.

But the color itself had an unsettling, almost ominous shade.

”Full of things you can’t eat,”

Luagarne said, puffing out her cheeks ever-so-slightly.

They hadn’t even entered the forest yet, but Enkrid could already see things wriggling and crawling along the ground.

Some looked like worms, while others had rounder shapes. The ecosystem had been warped by the influence of the Demonic Domain—even the insects looked different.

A headwind blew, carrying the strange scent lingering in the woods over to the group.

The stench of rot was thick in the air.

”They say this is where the monster known as the Parasitic Beast has made its nest. I’ve heard that even a Junior Knight could be taken out if they let their guard down…”

As if in step with Ropord’s words, a swordsman emerged from within the forest.

One side of his face was covered in brown veins, and the whites of his eyes were fully exposed.

Ropord amended his statement.

”Looks like someone’s already been taken.”

The figure clearly appeared more monster than human, so Rem didn’t hesitate for a moment.

The instant he saw it, his handaxe was already slicing through the air.

With a whistling sound, the handaxe cut through the air, about to strike the swordsman’s head—as if it had teleported—

Thud!

The swordsman blocked it at an angle with his greatsword.

Enkrid, watching intently, spoke up.

”Don’t kill him.”

”Why not?”

Rem glanced back and asked, sounding absolutely confident that whatever that monster up ahead was, it wouldn’t be any match for him.

”I know that face.”

Enkrid replied.

He meant it.

The man’s name was Roman, and he was a Junior Knight.

Roman, the Junior Knight who was supposed to be in the city of Oara, appeared here, his eyes rolling back in his head.

”Should I just take off his leg?” Rem asked.

”No, just subdue him.” Enkrid replied.

It might seem like a pretty tough job, depending on how you look at it.

Roman, who used to be a Junior Knight, swung his greatsword—and the wind buckled and burst with a loud pop under the force.

***