A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Every day, after learning Focus Point from Ragna, he would plunge into practice.

This was Encrid’s repeated routine today.

Countless repetitions.

Despite facing death repeatedly, the technique of single-point focus seemed just out of reach.

‘Don’t get impatient.’

Encrid shifted his thinking. For now, let’s try breaking the flagpole first.

When the battle began again,Encrid pondered how to minimize damage.

Thinking and contemplating were among his specialties.

Once more, the fog settled in. The fog of death. Hence, this spell was called the Fog of Annihilation.

Of course, Encrid didn’t know the name of the spell.

He just realized he couldn’t succumb like this.

Before the fog settled and Rem could shout anything, Encrid spoke first.

“Everyone, get down!”

They were caught off guard. Even the platoon leader ducked his head at someone’s shout.

“Shields up!”

When Encrid shouted again, the allies instinctively raised their shields. Feeling his left hand empty, Encrid grabbed a shield as well.

Lowering his stance and running while holding the shield at an angle, several bolts and arrows thudded against the shield.

The oil-soaked shield performed its role dutifully.

‘I should have brought a shield earlier.’

There had been times when he was hit by bolts or arrows while running here and had to start fighting.

Thanks to this, he became familiar with the routes to approach while dodging.

He ran forward while thinking. From his past experiences, he knew that to escape the fog’s influence, he had to get close to the enemy.

Encrid did just that.

While running, Encrid suddenly pushed off the ground and threw himself to the left.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Spears passed through the spot where Encrid had been. It was a pattern he had already memorized.

You can’t demonstrate Focus Point by deliberately creating a life-or-death crisis.

You have to struggle.

Encrid resolved to do so. After dodging the spears, he ran again, getting right up to the enemy’s nose.

Only then did he see the enemy beyond the fog. The face inside the round leather helmet was extremely startled.

Encrid kicked the ankle of the surprised enemy soldier.

“Ugh!”

He struck the head of the fallen enemy with the edge of his shield.

Crack!

The sound of splitting wood echoed. If the enemy survived that, it would be sheer luck.

As he passed the fallen enemy, he drew his longsword.

Drawing it and swinging it widely in one motion, several enemy soldiers trying to close in were taken aback. Seeing that, Encrid mapped out his route in his mind.

Today alone, he had repeated this over 300 times.

He could navigate the battlefield with his eyes closed.

He knew the location of the flagpole and the positioning of the enemy soldiers.

From the enemy’s perspective, Encrid’s movements must have seemed ghost-like.

* * *

Ron, a soldier of the Duchy of Aspen, was startled by the sudden movements of the Naurillia soldier as soon as the fog rolled in.

The soldier sprang out from the left, cutting down several of Ron’s comrades, then suddenly disappeared. At least, it seemed that way. It looked as if the soldier had vanished into thin air.

In reality, the soldier had just lowered his stance abruptly.

“Gah!”

“Below! He’s below!”

Ron knew that the fog surrounding him was created by some spell or magic. This fog didn’t obscure the vision of his allies. However, the thicker parts of the fog did hinder their view.

For instance, at ground level.

So, while they could see well above the chest, the ground was harder to make out. The enemy seemed to act as if he knew this.

“Kill him!”

“That bastard!”

Commotion erupted everywhere. The enemy moved as if he had ten bodies.

Ron tensed up. He was ready to strike the enemy’s head the moment he appeared nearby.

Tension filled the air.

“Argh!”

“Ugh!”

“Over here!”

The enemy continued to move through the fog on the ground as if it were his own domain.

Ron swallowed hard. It felt like a blade could appear right in front of him at any moment. He felt the urge to urinate. Yet, the enemy did not show himself for quite some time. Just as the tension reached its peak.

“Break the flagpole!”

A scream erupted from the back. It was the voice of the squad leader. Ron quickly turned his head.

He saw the squad leader falling forward and an enemy soldier rising next to him.

The enemy emerging from the fog on the ground looked like a skeletal soldier rising from a grave.

‘Was he alone?’

Did he cause all this chaos by himself?

The enemy, gripping his sword with both hands, struck the flagpole.

Smack!

With one heavy blow, the middle of the flagpole broke. The flag tilted and fell to the side.

The flag that had been fluttering in the wind just moments ago lost its sound and movement.

Thud.

The fallen flag kicked up a cloud of dust.

Through that dust, the enemy soldier seemed to tilt his head.

That’s how it appeared to Ron. Then the enemy moved again.

“Kill him, kill him!”

As someone was dying, they grabbed the enemy soldier’s pant leg. It was commendable, a display of the elite soldiers of Aspen, disregarding their own life.

Allies swarmed over him like bees.

With two spears stuck in his left side and five quarrels embedded in his thigh, the enemy soldier bled profusely as he asked,

“Why isn’t the fog clearing? It’s supposed to be the medium for the spell.”

A squad member scoffed in place of the dead squad leader.

“You fool, why do you think there are six flagpoles?”

The squad member didn’t mince words. The enemy was about to die anyway. Knowing this wouldn’t change anything.

“Five are decoys, and only one is real.”

“Crazy bastard.”

“Why is Focus Point so difficult? Then again, nothing has been easy so far.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sigh, focus, focus, focus.”

“He’s out of his mind.”

Smack!

The enemy soldier, muttering to himself after asking and hearing the answer, was struck by Ron, who couldn’t hold back any longer.

His head exploded, spraying blood.

The struck enemy writhed on the ground, spewing blood from his limbs.

“Grrrhh.”

Ron turned away from the foaming, bloodied enemy and looked around.

Even though one enemy had prevented the flag unit from completing its mission, the tide of the battle had already turned.

It was a great victory for the Duchy of Aspen. As long as this fog was present, they could not lose.

* * *

Agonizing pain filled Encrid’s entire body. To forget the pain, he sank into thought.

‘How did I learn ‘The Heart of the Beast’?’

The ‘Sense of the Blade’ was greatly aided by the assassin. ‘The Heart of the Beast’ was learned by rolling on the battlefield until the brink of death.

But ‘Focus Point’ was not coming easily.

Was the boldness given by ‘The Heart of the Beast’ a hindrance? That didn’t seem to be the case.

If he had easily achieved it within a few attempts, Encrid would have been a person of outstanding talent.

It could have been frustrating, but Encrid remained calm. He wasn’t impatient.

There was no need to be.

‘If it doesn’t work, I’ll keep at it until it does.’

Because his heart was resolute and firm, he did not know despair or frustration.

Death would visit him again, and he would wake up in the morning. He would steady his mind, trusting his body to the sunlight and wind.

“It’s called ‘Focus Point.’ Do you want to learn it?”

Ragna kept teaching as if following a predetermined path, and Encrid nodded.

He learned and learned again, but still couldn’t grasp it.

Through learning the basics of the northern-style heavysword with Ragna, he had a small realization. When learning something for the first time, it must be learned properly.

“Does the fear of death make your nerves stand on end?”

No matter how much he tried, it felt like an ill-fitting garment, so he asked.

“How did you learn it?”

“I just did.”

Ragna said kindly.

This made him seem even more annoying. Why was he being kind now?

Encrid almost preferred the times when Ragna spoke harshly.

“Just like that?”

“Yes, I soon became one with the sword by forgetting my surroundings and focusing.”

It wasn’t said boastfully. His tone was flat.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

What was trivial for Ragna seemed like an unreachable star for Encrid.

However, this did not stir jealousy or envy in him. If his spirit could be broken by this, he wouldn’t have dared to dream of becoming a knight.

He repeated the same action countless times. Ragna stopped his sword right in front of Encrid’s eyes, urging him to feel the fear of death.

In terms of speed, Ragna seemed faster than Rem.

When watching the two fight, Rem appeared faster.

Encrid’s mind still vividly remembered their duel.

When he actually faced them himself, Ragna seemed faster.

“What are you doing? We’re supposed to gather. Are you practicing with the squad leader as a straw dummy? Still bitter about losing to me before?”

“Who’s the one who lost? Your head, maybe?”

Why do these two always fight whenever they meet?

“Let’s go.”

Back to the battlefield. Encrid had learned much through death. One of those things was that five out of the six flagpoles were decoys.

‘I have to choose the right one.’

It was time to test his luck. This time, before the fog even rose, he rushed toward the enemy who had suddenly approached.

“…Squad Leader?”

He heard Ragna’s astonished question from behind. It must have seemed like a reckless move to anyone.

“The Squad Leader has gone mad!”

Rem also shouted. Others were whispering, wondering why he was doing that, questioning if he had lost his mind.

At that moment, the fog engulfed them.

“What!”

“I can’t see!”

Encrid shouted while running.

“Get down! Shields up!”

Having done this before, he expected them to follow his orders, but the result was different this time.

The response from his allies was delayed.

Arrows and quarrels flew, tearing into his comrades. The enemy, wielding spears, approached and started stabbing while his unit was still in a state of panic.

“Why?”

The timing was the problem. He should have given them a moment to catch their breath after the initial confusion. It was a mistake he knew well.

It’s fine. He would do better next time.

Others might say that the goddess of luck had kissed him or given him a bagful of coins.

But Encrid knew himself well.

He wasn’t particularly lucky.

The second flagpole he attacked.

A fierce battle was necessary, just like before.

Though he still hadn’t mastered Focus Point.

However, combining his newly acquired basic skills with real combat seemed to have significantly improved his abilities.

‘Still a long way to go.’

Encrid’s standards were Rem and Ragna. It took three more days to break the second flagpole.

When he broke the flagpole, the squad leader, with a dagger stuck in his belly, laughed and coughed up blood.

“It’s a decoy!”

“I know.”

Encrid nodded with two arrows lodged in his thigh.

“…What?”

“Four more to go.”

“What did you say?”

“Focus, focus.”

Was it a lack of concentration that made it difficult?

Focus Point was challenging.

Ignoring the enemy squad leader’s chatter, Encrid focused his concentration.

He boldly deflected and parried the enemy’s spear, swinging his sword.

The upward slash, now several times more familiar, split the enemy’s chin.

It cleaved from the mouth up to the nose.

A quarrel flew from the side.

Thunk, it lodged in his side. Thanks to his armor, he didn’t die, but he hadn’t noticed the five soldiers with crossbows.

There were about 80 enemy soldiers near the flagpole.

A number he couldn’t handle alone.

‘I need to attack the flagpole and also consider a retreat route.’

He pondered and deliberated repeatedly. To achieve Focus Point and break the flagpole, he transcended death.

The third flagpole required five more days.

The fourth flagpole required seven more days.

‘If I were the enemy commander,he would hide the flagpole in the safest place.’

Before the fog settled, he used two more days to observe the enemy formation.

Then he saw it.

The enemy had encircled a single flag unit.

It was in the innermost part.

Encrid warned his allies without making a mistake and ran forward.

Everyone ducked well and held their shields properly.

“Rem, follow me!”

He then brought Rem along.

“Magic… what?”

“Just follow me!”

He shouted and dashed forward, with Rem following behind.

“What kind of crazy thing are you trying to do?”

Encrid didn’t answer and instead charged toward the flag unit blocking their path, with Rem by his side.

“Just the two of you!”

An enemy soldier roared in anger. Encrid skillfully shifted his position, lowering his body to hide in the fog and leaving the enemy to Rem.

“Who cast the spell?”

Rem’s voice was like a cold flame as he swung his axe.

Turning back, Encrid saw the enemy soldier’s head fly off with a thud even though the axe wasn’t clearly visible.

Blood spurted like a fountain from the severed neck before the body crumpled to the side.

“I’ll get the answer from the next one.”

Rem went berserk.

Watching this, Encrid mentally mapped out the enemy’s movements.

It took five more days to finally encounter the innermost flag unit.

Only after five more grueling days could he penetrate that unit.

Encrid used his head. Instead of charging head-on, he slipped in from the side, lowering his stance and watching carefully.

He stealthily approached the flagpole.

Then someone blocked his way.

“Am I dreaming?”

The one blocking his way spoke.

Who is this guy?

“The gods have favored me and granted my wish. I always wanted to kill you with my own hands.”

Encrid tilted his head, looking at the opponent blocking his way.

He didn’t remember who he was.

“…You forgot me in just a few days?”

For the opponent, it had only been a few days, but for Encrid, thanks to the repeated days, it had been a year on this battlefield.

“Sorry. Please introduce yourself.”

Encrid said politely, and a vein popped on the opponent’s forehead.

“I’m Mitch Hurrier, squad leader of the Duchy of Aspen.”

Even hearing the name didn’t jog Encrid’s memory.

“I see.”

When he nodded, Mitch’s eyes flared with anger.

“You bastard.”

Mitch drew his sword in a rage. The clang of the drawn sword seemed somewhat familiar.

“Where have I seen this before?”

“Wait.”

Encrid raised his hand to stop him. Mitch pointed his sword at him and asked,

“What is it?”

“I truly don’t remember. Who are you?”

“You’ll remember after a few sword strikes!”

Mitch charged at him. Encrid drew his longsword to face him.

Clang, clang!

Swords clashed, resonating with the sound of metal on metal.

They locked swords and then separated, and Mitch was inwardly surprised.

“This guy?”

His skills had improved significantly.

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