A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“Gurk.”

The man wielding the throwing axe shouted his final curse.

A poisoned dagger embedded in his side, a spear tip pierced through his throat.

“Krrrrrrrr.”

Foam mingled with blood, light fading from his eyes.

And that’s it.

Encrid stared into the man’s eyes before stepping back.

“Uwaaaah!”

A comrade nearby screamed in agony.

Immediately, the enemy in front echoed the scream.

“Kraaaagh!”

Both were of considerable stature. The impact was like two carriages colliding head-on.

They grasped each other and began to spin around.

Watching this, Encrid stepped back.

What must he do to preserve himself?

What lessons had he learned, risking his life over a hundred times?

The art of self-preservation.

That meant avoiding fighting as much as possible.

Encrid took cover.

“You’re dead!”

“Damn it, you bastard.”

Curses instead of battle cries, rushing with swords, spears, axes, and clubs.

“Don’t touch my brother. You damn bastard.”

The dying soldier’s parting words.

“Stop bullshitting. Even if you say that, you’re not responsible for your brother.”

A soldier nonchalantly dismissing a comrade’s death.

“He’s dead! He’s dead!”

Amidst the heat of the battlefield, a rookie soldier lost in a frenzy.

“That crazy bastard.”

“Let him be, he’s just trying to play warrior.”

A veteran protecting his squad members while watching the frenzied rookie.

“My name is Bar-, kraack!”

The enemy soldier, showboating, is cut down mid-sentence.

Pulling out the spear he stabbed with, his comrades laugh at him.

Thud.

The toe of a boot hits the ground, kicking up dust.

In the pouring sunlight, dust floated lazily in the air.

Beside that, an enemy poured out blood with a loud splat.

Next to them, a comrade with a shattered head lay fallen.

Flesh scattered on the ground, blood staining the earth.

No matter how much you try to protect yourself.

You can’t survive the battlefield without doing anything.

“Sigh, hooo.”

Taking short breaths and exhaling long.

Encrid regulated his breathing.

Between the dust, a spear head flew menacingly towards him.

Encrid loosely held his shield and blocked the spear blade.

Twa-ang.

The shield hit the spear head, deflecting it to the side.

Loosely gripping the handle allowed him to absorb the impact.

At the same time, a club came flying diagonally from the side.

Encrid crouched forward to dodge the club and leaped towards the wielder.

Thud, he slammed his shoulder into their chest. As they fell, he pulled out his dagger and stabbed them in the thigh.

Squelch!

The blade, tearing through thick cloth and more, left a long gash on the opponent’s thigh.

“This son of a bitch!”

The enemy shouted, pushing Encrid back.

Using the force of the push to steady his stance, Encrid drew his sword and swung horizontally.

The thigh injury hindered movement. The stumbling opponent couldn’t dodge and took the blade to the neck.

Thump!

The blade sank halfway. Encrid applied force to pull it out.

Crunch.

As the blade withdrew, muscles, nerves, tendons, and bones were severed.

Blood gushed out, and the soldier instinctively covered his neck with his palm.

Naturally, trying to stop such a wound with a palm was futile.

Encrid didn’t look back. The spearman whose shield he had hit knew others would intervene.

“You damn bastard!”

It was Bell. His rescue wasn’t in vain. If he saved someone, he’d always watch his back.

He’s a loyal friend.

Clang! Clang!

The clashing of iron resounded continuously.

Encrid turned away from his fallen opponent and picked up a stone from the ground.

Then he turned and threw it immediately.

Amid the melee, an enemy soldier struck by the thrown rock hesitated.

Smash!

Bell swung his spear grandly, cleaving through the head.

It was a splendid strike.

“Seems like the debt’s been repaid?”

Bell gasped for breath as he spoke.

“Do you really think so?”

Is repaying a life debt that easy?

“I feel like I’ve only repaid half.”

Bell scratched his helmet with his blood-stained hand.

But would that be enough?

Bell stepped back slightly. Once you fall, you learn to protect yourself moderately.

Following the flow of the battlefield, Encrid also moved step by step.

“Please, save me.Gurgle.”

A soldier pleading, foaming at the mouth, appeared.

A familiar face.

A dice gambler who had seen death many times.

“I can’t save you.”

Encrid said calmly.

He had tried countless times, but saving him was impossible.

Thus, he stepped onto the battlefield.

In the approaching enemy ranks, he found the pervert shouting mercy.

It wasn’t difficult.

The moment he found him, Encrid drew his last remaining dagger and threw it in rhythm with his running.

Thwack, swoosh, swish!

If he was just an ordinary guy, the timing of the thrown dagger would draw a solid line in the air that couldn’t be avoided.

Thunk!

The man twisted his body to deflect the dagger with his shoulder.

The dagger, entering at an angle, bounced off the scapula.

Even though it was a reflexive action, it was a defense close to perfect.

Encrid felt the gaze upon him.

Blocking the dagger and immediately identifying its source? He had thought it many times, but this sadistic attacker was no ordinary person.

He charged. With each pounding step kicking up bloody soil behind him.

It wasn’t more than a few steps away.

So, this was the moment to test everything learned through repeated trials today.

His physical condition was better than ever before.

Thus, the preparation was complete.

The man swung his sword vertically. Encrid raised his shield.

Thwack!

A solid force reverberated from the blade hitting the oiled wood.

“The basics of swordsmanship? It’s strength.”

One of the swordsmanship instructors had said.

“Overcome strength with technique? Hah, that’s a joke. Try defeating a giant with just technique.”

“Who knows how many fools died babbling about not spilling blood against giants.”

“The basis of swordsmanship is strength. Strength, that’s what rolls.”

Thanks to that teacher, he could properly prepare his body.

With his shield, Encrid didn’t easily give ground.

In terms of strength, he was nearly equal to his opponent.

“Hmph!”

The sadistic attacker sneered.

While his vision was obscured by the shield, the man swept at Encrid’s ankle.

Encrid blocked the man’s toe with his shin guard.

The steel-plated boots were weapons in themselves.

Thud.

There was a sharp pain in his thigh, but it didn’t break.

That’s good.

Pushing his shield outward, he drew his sword and swung from bottom to top.

Swoosh!

As if anticipating the thrust, the sadistic attacker had already retreated beyond the reach of the sword.

Encrid then leaped forward deeper than the distance he had retreated.

It was a charge aimed at exploiting the opening left by the sword swing.

“Hah!”

Encrid shouted as he swung his shield like a hammer, putting all his strength into it.

The charging pervert jerked his head back.

Thwack!

The man struck on the head and toppled sideways.

Encrid stepped back after attempting another swing with his sword.

Swoosh.

The fallen man pulled out his dagger and swung it diagonally.

If he had charged forward, the blade would have struck above Encrid’s shin guard.

It was seizing the opportunity to find a gap in the shin guard’s position in a brief moment.

The world might call such a skill a talent.

Encrid had to learn to hit The Heart of the Beast countless times to do that, even though it had cost him his life.

But his opponent was not that.

However, there was no skill that could roll endlessly on the battlefield.

Encrid could see it too. His opponent was either a rookie or a soldier with little battlefield experience. Otherwise, they wouldn’t charge so recklessly.

It was the same when they first met.

He almost fell victim to his own thrust.

Inexperienced yet gifted.

He wasn’t jealous.

‘I can catch him.’

“I can do it.” Confidence surged within him. He had a gut feeling that today’s efforts wouldn’t be in vain.

It was time for his efforts, accompanied by death, to reap their rewards.

“This bastard.”

Fierce anger gleamed in his eyes.

The man swiftly got up, and in the midst of it, another ally intervened between Encrid and him.

Without hesitation, the sadistic attacker crouched and struck at the ally’s shin with the hand holding the sword.

Crack.

The sound of bones breaking.

Whenever allies intervened, this pattern always followed.

Then, in one fluid motion, he stabbed the ally’s throat with his dagger.

A fluid attack pattern like flowing water.

It was a pattern he was already familiar with.

The sadistic attacker pulled out his dagger.

The startled soldier could do nothing but widen his eyes.

Just before the blade pierced his throat.

Swiftly, the soldier’s body jerked backward.

Slash, thunk.

Instead of piercing his throat, the blade stabbed his cheek, grazed his carotid artery, and scraped off his helmet.

“Ah!”

The startled soldier fell back, unable to speak, clutching his buttocks in pain.

Encrid released the hand that had gripped the soldier’s neck instead of the sword and stood before the soldier.

“Back off.”

This was his fight.

That was his opponent.

He had to confirm what he had achieved.

Thump.

His heart pounded.

Encrid felt a whirlwind of complex emotions.

Firstly, whether it was right to surpass this day.

Doubts about whether he could defeat his opponent.

Rising adrenaline rushing through him.

And an unfounded intuition that he had to surpass the opponent in front of him to move forward.

“I’m not impressed,” the sadistic attacker said.

Look, how petty this is.

It’s evidence of lack of experience, apart from talent.

If he had been truly serious.

‘He should have shown vulnerability instead of words.’

That’s right, he should have feigned carelessness and attacked back.

That’s what he needed to do to win.

So, Encrid did just that.

“Hoo, hoo.”

Deliberately breathing heavily.

Startling at a gesture from his opponent.

At one moment, the opponent’s eyes, which had seemed fiery red, now looked dull brown.

Those brown eyes gleamed.

The sadistic attacker approached confidently, drawing his knife.

Swish!

It was a completely different speed than before.

Thump.

His heart pounded. There was no panic or closing of the eyes.

The Heart of the Beast was always courageous.

“Watch Closely and just dodge.”

Rem always said that.

I thought I was being mocked.

No.

It showed. He put force into his ankle, twisting his body.

The blade grazed his shoulder raw.

After dodging, he slashed horizontally with the blade.

Ping!

The opponent stood their dagger upright.

Encrid’s sword and the opponent’s dagger formed a cross.

Tididididing!

In that state, he exerted force, causing the blades to spark.

The opponent twisted their dagger obliquely, deflecting the blade sideways.

Encrid didn’t thrust his sword but held his shield close to his body.

Clang!

The blade struck the edge of the shield.

Sparks flew here too.

The thrusting man had somehow pulled the sword and swung it.

Did he experience it once or twice?

The pattern became familiar.

Quickly turning his head, suddenly the enemy’s figure was gone.

Encrid raised his sword vertically and stamped it on the ground.

The man charging forward stopped.

With a loud thud, the tip of the sword pierced the blood-soaked ground.

The man bent over with a twisted posture, only lifting his head.

His youthful eyes were fierce.

“Tricks.”

With his words, he clenched his teeth.

Tricks are also a talent. My son.

Encrid didn’t reply.

Instead, he kicked dirt at his opponent.

Thwack!

“Ugh!”

The man swiftly blocked his face with his forearm.

Blocking with reflexes again.

Not the first or second time seeing this scene.

It was trivial.

“This bastard!”

When gaining the upper hand, he boasted mercy and discussed vile joy.

Easily agitated in the heat of the moment.

His character was grasped early on.

As he rose, the man charged again.

Thwack! Thud! Bam!

Blocking the continuous sword strikes with his shield, the shield soon began to creak.

Amidst the flurry, the man closed the gap and thrust with his dagger.

Aiming for the side.

Previously, he had staggered and died from this.

Encrid raised his elbow to intercept.

Thud!

The blade was blocked by sturdy leather armor.

At the same time, Encrid leaned forward, pushing his forehead out.

Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, close combat.

A headbutt.

Bam!

“Ugh!”

With all my strength, I pushed forward, and his head jerked back.

Normally, at this time, there would be someone swinging a club from behind.

But not today.

No one threw an throwing axe either.

Instead, there was Bell.

“Damn, I’m helping!”

Bell shouted.

“Deal with anyone interfering or blocking.”

‘Because he’s my opponent.’

Suppressing the rising nausea, he balanced himself and heard the opponent muttering as anger surged in him.

“This crazy bastard.”

‘Yeah, if my head is spinning, yours will too.’

The dizziness quickly faded.

“Watch as you struggle and die.”

The stab fiend took a stance. One foot forward, the other back.

A posture akin to charging cavalry.

From that stance begins the arrow-like speed of his thrust.

Tension squeezed his heart.He exhaled to release the tension.

‘Stay calm.’

Could he overcome the wall of talent with repetition of today?

It’s time to find that answer.

He moved.

It was just a dot. It seemed so simple.

Many times I’ve experienced it, yet it remained the same.

The dot soon became light and then a blade, piercing through Encrid’s body. No, narrowly dodged.

Pang.

The blade grazed his side.

Anticipating the stance, predicting where he aimed, he moved with the blade’s motion.

Encrid’s body faithfully followed his thoughts.

A sharp pain followed as his side grazed.

He ignored it.

Instead, his left foot forward, sword back.

His right elbow pulled back with strength. Like an arrow drawn for battle.

Power to his left foot shifted the center of gravity.

Learned by watching.

Learned by being pierced.

Mastered through sparring with Rem.

Thud.

Advancing, focusing more on balance than strength.

His determination imbued in the blade.

‘Stab.’

With resolute determination imbued into the sword,

Releasing the tensioned muscles, he thrust his sword.

Thwack!

The meticulously sharpened tip of the sword pierced through the fiend’s heart.

Breaking through leather and thick cloth armor.

Touching that heart.

It felt as though sword, hand, and arm had become one in satisfaction.

In that moment of enjoying the fruits of effort, the taste of achievement.

“Hey!”

Someone shouted.

Encrid didn’t even register the cry.

Before he could revel in the joy of victory.

Thwack!

Starting from his left side, he felt a tremendous shock that lifted his body into the air.

‘Huh?’

What’s this?

In the twenty-five ‘todays,’ he had never experienced such a situation.

“It’s a damn frog!”

Whether it was Bell or someone else, he couldn’t tell, but he heard that shout.

That was Encrid’s last memory.

He blacked out.

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