A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

‘Is the moment from the dream now?’

Enkrid searched for the meaning of the nightmare the ferryman had shown him. It had been three days now.

He couldn’t just leave it at, it’s a nightmare, it’s painful, I can’t choose, and be done with it.

‘A moment of choice.’

That was what the ferryman was telling him through the nightmare. He didn’t know if that was truly the ferryman’s intention, but inside the nightmare, Enkrid felt consideration.

If he met it in a dream and asked whether it counted as consideration, would that become the kind of question where it would pull out the oar it had been rowing the river with and swing it at him?

‘Anyway, now isn’t that time.’

There was no reason to feel stuck like he had on the bridge. When he sprang forward, three giants blocked his path as if surrounding him. Two spread left and right, and one pulled back, naturally forming a formation that drew him inside.

‘They learned tactics.’

You don’t form a formation overnight. It takes training, and it has to be completed with real battle mixed in.

The movement those three giants showed was enough to see it as completed through training and real battle.

‘The south’s influence.’

Enkrid stepped into the intangible net the three giants had laid out. If he’d noticed, he could’ve avoided it, but he didn’t.

‘Here, with force.’

In terms of tactical judgment, he’d received the teachings of Lua Gharne, the Frokk who was called a combat scholar, and he possessed instincts he’d honed by dying and coming back hundreds of times.

It meant he was someone whose ability was incomparable even against an ordinary knight.

He grasped the correlation between what he had and what the opponent was aiming for and found the optimal path. That was how Enkrid swallowed his breath and entered a soundless world.

From left and right, two angular maces dropped down, and the one in the center thrust a spear. The weapons the giants held were large enough to match their arm length and bodies. Weapons they had smithed to fit their use, with the length and thickness set.

Enkrid swung his sword three times in place, using three methods at once.

It was the first time he properly used Endure in real battle. And he spat out the pressure that had piled up over several days of nightmares into it.

Thud, slice, whoom.

Three different noises formed.

The one who swung from the left—Enkrid wrapped heavy Will around himself and struck back, and the mace snapped upward and its half jammed into its owner’s skull, and on the opposite side he swung with speed packed into it, sharp.

The blade named Night Walk cut straight through the mace, brushed the giant’s Adam’s apple with a tap, and returned.

For the last one, he pulled Night Walk and met the giant’s spearhead. Naturally, Will turned like a clump of wool, took the spearhead into itself, and flowed it off to the side.

‘So Will moves on its own, the way I want.’

That was the core of Endure.

Will’s changes played, crossing back and forth over the boundary between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Two giants collapsed. Enkrid continued into a fourth swing.

‘Oara’s connecting sword.’

Endure, the changes of Will, could draw out any swordsmanship he’d refined in training in an instant.

And also, like when he’d faced that blond genius swordsman, he maintained a speed far superior to the opponent’s.

In the time it took the three giants to make one movement, Enkrid swung his sword four times.

Finally, the blade that performed a vertical cut from below to above in reverse split the giant’s head down the middle.

Enkrid left the intangible net the three giants had formed and walked forward.

Blood gushed from the place he passed.

The left one, with half its head caved in, died on its knees, and the right one, pressing a hand to its Adam’s apple, let out a gk, gk— groan, then collapsed with a thud.

It was a head and two taller than Enkrid. A head that was close enough to reach with a sword, but far enough that it was hard to strike the Adam’s apple with a hand, sprawled on the ground.

The last one was pushed back by the force carried in the cuts and fell over backward.

‘Aitri, what did you do?’

Enkrid felt shock and fun at the same time.

When he swung Night Walk out again, the sword’s power that had just tapped the giant’s Adam’s apple left itself vividly in his hand.

‘Its cutting power.’

It was to the point he couldn’t compare it to any sword he’d held until now. It wasn’t just a sword that cut well. And what about when he put weight into it?

It felt like it added force to match the center of gravity.

But separate from the movement of Will, you could say the sword itself was showing itself off too much.

I’m this incredible sword. Come on, swing me. Stab and cut as much as you want.

It was as if the sword was talking to him like that. It was desperate to show off what it could do.

I’m a weapon. I was born to kill people. So feed me blood.

A sword you could well call a demonic sword, or a bewitched sword. Naturally, Enkrid wasn’t influenced by anything the sword conveyed.

If he could wear Balrog’s leather armor without a problem, he could probably laugh off most mental attacks.

So his impression of the sword only passed by for a moment.

If some half-baked person had held it, they might’ve fallen for the sword’s wickedness and become a berserker, but Aitri handed it over without any worry. His trust was rewarded.

Enkrid was fine. More than that, in that brief clash, his chest felt cleared wide open. A duet of liberation and ecstasy pounded at his heart.

‘If I want it, the way I want.’

If he set his mind to it, Will moved. He’d felt it in sparring too, but this really—

‘It’s fun.’

It had been the same ever since he started repeating today for the first time.

‘It’s so fun.’

Enkrid didn’t get tired of this at all. The sludge that had built up in his head because of the nightmares blew away in one go.

After breaking through the three giants, he saw eight more giants holding maces, spears, axes, and the like.

‘Not few.’

There were still this many opponents left to talk about swords with.

To the giants, this was nothing but a monster. Wind blew in, and the cloak Enkrid wore fluttered. It was enough for the pattern on the cloak to show.

“That’s that.”

One sharp-eyed giant spotted the step pattern.

“Madman.”

It muttered next. Enkrid twitched Night Walk in his right hand and finished his calculation.

‘There’s no threat.’

There were no knight-class giants. There were two at a level of imitation, and that was all. To an ordinary mercenary, it would be a tough opponent, but not to him.

If they scattered and ran away, that would be one thing, but if they came at the caravan, he was brimming with confidence he wouldn’t let a single one slip past him.

‘This isn’t the moment of choice.’

Just as expected. This level couldn’t force a choice on him.

Thinking back, a lot had changed now.

Even without deliberately thinking, Enkrid caught the intention of the group that had come out.

In Owl’s letter, it said giant bastards were sticking around between Naurillia and the west, aiming at cities, but—

‘They aimed.’

They moved expecting a caravan would come on this road. It wasn’t loaded with some great strategic intent.

They just poked at the west here and there, then saw the road got cleared and did something like an ambush.

They fought well, but they didn’t draw a big picture. That was the conclusion. Still, it was surprising. A giant pack with this much tactical ability.

Guessing what they were wasn’t hard. He’d already come after hearing information.

‘The south.’

How many giants could recognize the pattern on his cloak? These were ones that came out of the south.

And even after seeing the cloak’s pattern, they didn’t retreat. They were ones with different spirit. One that covered its chest with an axe, one whose eyes reddened as it pulled its momentum up—there was resolve showing that not one of them planned to back down.

“Fight.”

One giant said. The others nodded, saying it was good.

Before leaving, Kraiss had said that the giant pack that came out of the south seemed to be aiming at something, taking advantage of the chaotic time.

“What is that something?”

“I don’t know.”

It was natural not to know, but it was irritating anyway.

“Want to spar?”

“...With me? That just sounds like you want to beat me up.”

When he tried to check Kraiss’s skill after a long time, Abnaier, who’d been listening beside them, cut in.

“It would be a stupid thing to do.”

Abnaier’s words after that were reasonable.

“Giants aren’t a species that uses their heads much. It’s not that there aren’t special ones among them, but if they were ones who served in the army, they would’ve marched expecting some price, and what they’re doing now is desertion. Someone who thinks would not do something like this. That’s why my guess is that they’re ones who decided to make a quick killing and run somewhere.”

Just because they were big didn’t mean they were stupid. Even among giants, there were quite a few who were sly and used their heads well.

‘Since my mercenary days, I’ve been fooled by judging only by the outside more than once.’

Enkrid thought that, but looking now, Abnaier’s perspective seemed right.

“If we do well, we can kill.”

“Then all those wagons are ours.”

“Kill all the people! This road is ours!”

Words the giants exchanged.

The giant pack intended to kill every last one without leaving any behind. You could say their intent was transparent.

If you go onto a battlefield, you have to be prepared to die as much as you’re prepared to kill. It was a creed he’d gained after living off the blade for a long time.

The giant pack must’ve charged in with everything taken into account too. Enkrid repaid their resolve.

To the giant body that showed the trick of turning its skin into steel, he answered with sword strikes that cut steel too.

Thunk.

As the neck was cut, he felt the texture of cutting metal, and the sound was the same.

The decapitated giant sprayed red blood in all directions. A few drops of blood splattered onto his cloak. Enkrid moved to the side and swung his sword again.

It wasn’t an empty fight, but it was a one-sided fight.

Leona, watching from one side, didn’t even understand what was happening. The only thing she knew was that if the ones guarding the caravan right now were together, it was the safest place on the continent.

It wasn’t for nothing that she’d led the caravan out in step with Enkrid’s movement.

‘Their movement is weird.’

From the caravan’s perspective too, the giant pack that pushed into the west was a headache. The obsidian that came out of this side was a specialty that extended all the way to the trade city.

If the trade route had been cut here, it would’ve been quite troublesome. In the middle of that, when Enkrid said he was heading west, joining up was only natural.

Even if they didn’t bring it up directly while talking, it was something both Leona and Enkrid recognized in each other.

Whatever it was, Enkrid didn’t show mercy to the sword. He cut, stabbed, and killed.

“Why are you so strong.”

One giant muttered as it died.

Even with an arm cut off, they charged, and if a leg was cut off, they threw the weapon in their hand and opened their grip.

It was a fighting spirit that suited the words “red-blooded beast-creature” well.

When it was time to fight, they were the kind that rushed in drunk on ferocity, reason thrown away.

Even if he moved leaving only afterimages, they reached out somehow. Their desire to fight clung like a vicious tick.

And like that, with a few cuts, he turned the giant bandit pack into a dead bandit pack.

“Is it over?”

Rem came up, caked in blood, and said it. The clotted blood on the axe blade in his right hand dripped onto the ground, drop by drop.

It looked like the axe blade was gulping down blood and letting it run.

“You fought without me again.”

Dunbakel came up and said it too. She’d killed two giants as well. The total number of the giant bandit pack was a little over thirty.

Since the giants had piled up on Rem’s side, they must’ve planned to threaten from the front and then, from behind, wipe everything out in one go.

‘And someone shoved tactical movement into them.’

In reality, they were a group with no thought.

If they were the kind that knew how to use their heads in the first place, they wouldn’t have left the south’s embrace and drifted all the way here.

“I saw traces of sorcery here and there too. What kind of bastards are they, really.”

Rem said, stripping all humor from his face.

He didn’t like that things like this kept popping out in the west.

“Are you going to chase them?”

“If we chase just by traces, even staying up for several nights won’t be enough.”

It was a tone like it wasn’t a big deal. A natural attitude. Would Owl have called Rem just because a few giants popped out?

Enkrid didn’t think so either. In the west, there weren’t few people with force even if they weren’t a knight order.

Owl, Gennarae, the twins, Juol, even Ire.

Besides them, there were many warriors who fought riding bellopters.

‘At this level, it’s not a threat.’

It was just annoying.

“Let’s go.”

Rem said. The giants’ attack cut the dream in the middle. Maybe because of that, that night Enkrid didn’t have a nightmare.

Instead, he had a dream where Night Walk turned into a person and walked together with him.

“I fight well, right?”

The sword just flat-out bragged about itself. Black, long hair, and eyes black too. Overall, its looks resembled Esther.

“Yeah.”

Enkrid soothed the sword that had turned into a woman.

Then, on one side, Dawn approached. This one had pale blue hair, and eyes of gold.

“Just because dawn broke doesn’t mean you don’t need me anymore.”

Dawn had broken, but Enkrid asked himself whether it had really broken.

‘Is that right?’

Dreams are an outflow of the unconscious. If reality is light, dreams are shadow. The shadow settled into dawn and whispered.

“I’m still here.”

That was the end of the dream. It wasn’t long or short, but when he woke, only an afterimage that had passed in an instant remained.

Opening his eyes, Enkrid saw snow flurries. Snowflakes fell from the dark sky.

He thought he’d heard snow was rare in the west.

Winter’s cold didn’t spare its influence here either.

Looking at the sky, the dream, the snow flurries, Enkrid organized his thoughts.

“Organizing your ideas and thoughts is as important as training your body.”

Words Lua Gharne had told him one day. Enkrid chewed on those words and digested them.

‘Is an engraved weapon finished when you make it?’

No. That was the answer his intuition gave him.

‘Then?’

Did Dawn, the first engraved weapon he’d held, break and end?

‘It remained inside me.’

The experience and traces that blade had given him remained clearly.

An engraved weapon doesn’t end when you make it. The one who holds it has to accept that weapon. That’s why that weapon has to resemble its owner.

Why engraving? Because once you bind, it gains absolute binding force, so it’s an engraved weapon.

‘Ah.’

A short realization struck his head. The Night Walk he held now might become a friend, but it wouldn’t go as far as engraving. This sword was similar, but different. A sword that couldn’t engrave him.

He could feel in his chest why Aitri was hammering a new sword.

Dawn opens the morning. Noon and sunset pass through the day. The flow that rides over the night completes today. That was Aitri’s intent. It was filled with a heart that wanted each day that meets dawn to continue, no matter what.

While he was thinking, they arrived at a western village. Since caravans came and went often, it was rare for people to pour out in a rush.

Only a few people with business came out.

In the middle of that, someone ran over. By Enkrid’s standards, it was a little kid. Was it even ten years old?

“Honey!”

The little girl shouted.

“Hm.”

Leona tilted her head.

The little girl ran straight into Enkrid’s arms.