A Knight Who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 295

Chapter 295: CHAPTER 293 Chapter 295: CHAPTER 293 “Why are you acting like this?” Hmm, he’s still here.

Krais was still standing in front of him.

He waved his hand in front of his face, making a sweeping motion.

Then he spoke.

“Can you see me?

Ah, can you hear me?” “What are you doing?” “Seems like you can hear me now.” “My ears are fine.” “But I’m not so sure about your head.” Should I give him a smack if he keeps acting up?

Is Krais acting out because Rem went out?

Before he could do anything, Krais spoke up.

“If it’s because of that weird question from earlier, ask Esther.

And do you know we’ve got a mountain of urgent things to deal with right now?” “I’ll delegate full authority to you, so handle it.” “Ah, damn it, are you planning to run away again!” “Except for that.” Krais muttered some inaudible curses under his breath and turned away.

“Why is this my fate?” His lament sounded oddly affectionate.

At least he wasn’t planning to run away right now.

Encrid placed his hand on Esther’s head again.

Even if she couldn’t become human, the knowledge inside her wouldn’t go away.

Esther, as he had seen her until now, was no ordinary wizard.

She seemed special even among those spellcasters who bring mysteries to life.

Maybe she knows something?

He hadn’t asked with high expectations.

“Esther, did you hear that?” He just tossed out a single line.

Esther slowly raised her upper body.

If she were human, it might have made cracking sounds, but her supple panther-like body simply bent and straightened like a bow.

After standing up, Esther drew something on the ground with her claw.

Scratch, scratch.

It was a simple drawing.

A single shape, followed by three lines behind it.

What could this be?

The drawing skill made you think.

Perhaps it’s abstract art.

Esther then drew something long and pointed a little distance from the shape she had drawn.

Abstract art, indeed.

Encrid took a moment to appreciate Esther’s artistic world.

She hadn’t learned how to draw.

Magic and drawing are separate things.

He had heard a wizard babbling about how magic was art-what nonsense.

Esther then slapped her palm on the long, pointed shape and swiped her hand across the other shape she had drawn.

The dirt floor was quickly disturbed.

Her canvas, representing her artistic world, returned to being just dirt.

Encrid was a good listener and quick on the uptake.

Even if the teacher was a mess, he could still learn.

And this time, he did.

He understood the hidden intention between the abstract shape and lines.

“Strike before it activates?” Esther let out a low growl, curling her body.

It’s cold, so she must want to go back to sleep.

Encrid felt as though Esther was complaining about the cold, so he picked her up and went back inside the tent.

Whoosh.

He laid the panther down next to the torch, twisted his body a bit to relax and stretch his muscles, and then Audin walked in.

Krais was probably wandering around, trying to deal with something somehow.

Ragna, unusually motivated, was probably doing some sword training nearby.

Jaxon?

Who knows.

He’s probably doing fine somewhere.

So, it was just Audin and him.

“Brother.” Audin called out to him.

Encrid already knew what he was going to say, even before hearing the words.

It was about recovery.

Since Audin possessed Divine Power, he could probably heal the remaining injuries in Encrid’s body.

If only his right arm and left leg could be restored…

‘It would make things much easier.’ But is that the right thing to do?

Could it truly be called the right path?

Encrid was extremely perceptive.

And because of that, he had figured out a few things.

Audin hadn’t spoken much about his past, but from his actions, usual demeanor, and the things he had said so far, it wasn’t difficult to guess a few things.

‘He was either exiled, restricted by some divine prohibition, or for some other reason, he can’t use his Divine Power freely.’ Encrid had also noticed, albeit subtly, that after Audin used his healing power on him before, he had been affected by the aftermath, even though he pretended not to be.

“I can’t fully heal you, but I can reduce the pain.” “No need.” The refusal came quickly.

Above all, it was meaningless.

A partial recovery wasn’t enough, and pain reduction held no significance.

Pain was proof that he was still alive.

Especially now.

When that scroll or whatever it was wrapped around the child’s body exploded, he felt his own body being torn apart.

Was he the only one who felt it?

‘The kid must have suffered more.’ Thinking about that made his blood boil.

He didn’t know who had come up with such a wretched idea, but…

There was no way he would let things go according to that bastard’s plan.

He didn’t want to avoid it, thinking it was a ridiculous mess.

He wanted to face it head-on, to slash, strike, stab, cut, and hit.

The solution also came in a single day, thanks to Esther.

‘Just strike first.’ It was ridiculously simple.

Almost disappointingly easy.

He took out some seasoned jerky from his pocket and placed it in Esther’s mouth.

The panther took the jerky in her mouth and chewed it diligently.

“Brother, do as you will.” Audin spoke and turned away.

‘A fascinating brother.’ It seemed as though he had sensed Encrid’s situation.

The Divine Prohibition and the limitations on Divine Power.

He couldn’t know everything, as it hadn’t been explained to him.

It was all just a matter of intuition.

And yet, he showed consideration?

In this situation?

He hadn’t decided to run away but to stand and fight, even though he must have wanted to do something about his injuries.

Yet there wasn’t a hint of that.

That’s what made him an interesting person.

‘Oh, my Father in heaven, what is it that guides this man’s heart?’ Of course, there was no answer.

But he didn’t need one.

Audin prayed silently, so no one could hear.

‘My dear, small brother, if it is your wish, I shall lend my small strength to this battlefield as well.’ He was clear on who his opponent was.

Audin believed that smashing the head of the one leading the wolf-beast pack was a task given by the Gods.

After Audin left, Encrid pondered the concept of a Swift Sword.

He kept thinking about it.

Reviewing and organizing his thoughts was one of his specialties.

And so he did.

‘The Swift Sword.’ There was something Zimmer of Martai had shown him, and there were instances before that as well.

Rem was fast, and Ragna was fast too.

“I will move forward through pain.

I will not offer prayers to the Lord to forget the pain, I will endure the pain given by the Lord and move forward.” Even the bear, suddenly reciting scripture in front of the tent, was fast.

Who among them was ever slow?

What about the swordsman who had intimidated him?

Fast, and even faster.

The most recent was the sword of that bastard Laikanos.

‘It was too fast.’ Without a doubt, it was by far the fastest.

Speed-that’s what’s needed now.

Absolute speed.

Encrid became absorbed in it and faced each day, swinging his sword.

“What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger!” Encrid stood among the soldiers, who were shouting their slogans fiercely.

This was the path forward, infused with something he had explored and gained.

‘It detonated around here yesterday.’ He would get there first.

“Whoa!” As he suddenly dashed to the front line, he heard a soldier beside him exclaim in surprise.

He ignored it and kept running.

As he pushed himself to run faster, his left shin throbbed, but it was bearable.

It wasn’t enough to stop him.

He saw the child’s eyes widen in shock as he ran forward.

Strike.

He saw the scroll, that dull, reddish parchment wrapped around the body.

It wasn’t difficult to swing the sword and cut just the parchment.

Once, he couldn’t even imagine doing this, but now it was easy.

He was about to do just that.

Encrid’s blade was about to touch the child’s body.

Pop!

A flash of light burst out.

The spell activated again.

It was definitely faster than yesterday, and even though he had rushed ahead to strike before it could activate, it still went off first.

Someone behind was adjusting the timing of the scroll’s activation.

The light exploded, burning and crushing the child’s eyes.

The skin split and tore, sending the entrails and broken bones flying everywhere.

His head was burning.

The heat even reached his eyes.

The focus that had been activated allowed him to see every bit of it.

He saw everything, endured it, and Encrid died again.

‘This is hell.’ As a new day began, the image remained on his retinas.

In any case, after repeating this one more time, he knew everything he needed to know.

A third identical morning dawned.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.” “Do you really have to go that far?

Huh?” Encrid answered Krais’s question in advance, then got up and grabbed his sword.

Esther, who had been nestled in his arms, growled in displeasure and quickly curled back into her spot.

“Sigh.” Encrid took a deep breath and walked out of the tent.

“…What is this?” Krais stared at him, bewildered.

“What do you think?

It’s training.” Dunbachel provided the answer.

Seeing Encrid, Dunbachel decided to follow him.

She could tell what Encrid was about to do just by his movements and got up herself.

She was itching to swing her scimitar with all her might.

With Rem gone, her body was restless.

As Encrid stepped out in front of the tent, he cleared his mind, pushing away the iwizards burned into his retinas, and organized his thoughts.

He saw the path ahead, so he would move forward.

“What the hell is going on?” He could hear Krais muttering in a daze behind him, but Encrid, as usual, cheerfully ignored it.

Then, he gripped his sword and thrust it forward.

As always, his behavior seemed crazy.

He began his training.

* * * He put his best effort into the day given to him.

Encrid did so even without meaning to.

He started with contemplation, then realized and embodied it through his body.

As usual, Audin offered to heal him.

“No need.” He declined.

It was routine.

In the repetition of each day, some things changed, while others remained the same.

Audin’s persistence was one of those constants.

Every time Encrid refused healing, Audin would recite some scripture or prayer, adopting a certain posture.

There were moments when it seemed like he might do something drastic, but from what Encrid observed, Audin spent each day quietly.

“Healing?” “No need.” Another repeated day.

Audin never asked for a reason, just moved on.

Encrid accepted it as part of his daily routine without questioning it.

“Change.” On certain days, he would even throw Esther lightly against the wall while muttering something resembling a spell.

He wondered if she would change if she got angry, but all that happened was more claw marks on his face.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected much.

Aside from that, he wandered around the battlefield, poking his nose into various places.

He even asked an exceptional archer: “Do you think you could just hit the edge of the cloth wrapped around the body from this distance?” Maybe, if he was skilled enough, he could shoot an arrow and just graze the edge of the cloth.

“Do you think that’s possible?” The soldier was so taken aback that he asked again in disbelief.

Encrid gave up on that idea.

So, he realized he would have to get up close somehow.

Then, what if he infiltrated before the scroll carrier even set out?

What if he rescued them before everything began?

“Where’s Jaxon?” “I don’t know.

He hasn’t been seen since last night.” According to Krais, Jaxon hadn’t been seen since the previous evening.

Now that he thought about it, even as the days repeated, Jaxon was the one person he hadn’t seen.

Throwing Esther around or snooping elsewhere had become something of a habit.

There was a crack in the wall that caused this repeated day.

Hadn’t he taken advantage of it several times before?

That’s why he checked.

He also asked around to see if there were any other wizards within the unit.

But where were wizards that common?

‘For something so uncommon, I seem to run into them often enough.’ He scratched his chin as the thought crossed his mind.

Aside from briefly scanning the surroundings during lunch, he spent the rest of the day focused solely on swinging his sword.

There were moments when he forgot the time, forgot the day, and even forgot his purpose.

‘Ah.’ As he stabbed and swung, he would fall into a state of self-forgetfulness, but he had never succeeded in fully achieving it.

And so, nine days passed.

There wasn’t a single day he allowed himself to be complacent.

Yet, despite that, he failed.

He was close, but not quite there.

‘Why?’ He asked himself this question, believing there must be a way.

There’s no wall that can’t be overcome.

Encrid mulled over what he had figured out.

After repeating the day nine times, there were things he had confirmed and become certain of.

For one, the scroll and spell were real.

Esther would give a warning before the explosion.

Someone was monitoring and remotely triggering the explosion.

No matter how fast he ran to save the child, he couldn’t outrun the activation of the spell.

This was what he had learned so far, but there were still things he didn’t know.

Would simply cutting the scroll prevent its activation?

Is this really the right path?

Doubt and mistrust surged on the fifth day, but Encrid brushed them aside easily.

Right or wrong, if this was the only thing he could do now, then it was the right thing to do.

“Run instead of wasting time worrying.

If you lack talent, you better at least have stamina.” That’s what a swordsmanship instructor from a small trading territory had once told him.

He was the first proper teacher Encrid had ever met.

It was obvious that stamina was the foundation of everything.

It was also obvious that your body needed to be in good shape to manifest that stamina.

“Don’t get injured.

If you’re lazy about maintaining your body, you’ll find yourself floundering in critical moments.

And when you flounder, you die.” This was the man who taught him mercenary-style practical swordsmanship based on countless real battles.

The son of a merchant family, who had been listening alongside him, once said: “Let’s skip the obvious nonsense and get on with it.” But Encrid had paid close attention to the words of the mercenary-turned-teacher.

He didn’t dismiss what he learned, even though he only paid a few Krona for it.

He chose the opposite path from the merchant’s son, who had criticized those teachings as mere cliches.

He listened and acted.

Instead of wasting time thinking, he swung his sword.

He absorbed their words, their advice, and the lessons he learned from swinging his sword into his life.

‘Never neglect your body.’ He had adhered to that lesson quite diligently.

Despite injuring his shin and right arm, he was fine.

Ever since he was forced to use his left hand, Encrid had also pushed his left hand hard.

He never stopped training.

If he did a hundred downward strikes with his right hand, he did a hundred and fifty with his left.

That’s why his left hand didn’t feel awkward now.

“In case you lose a leg, this is the training for that.” There were things he learned from Rem too.

In battle, anything could happen.

What would you do if, all of a sudden, one leg stopped working?

“In that case, you fight like this.” It was a nameless technique, where you shifted your stance and position by briefly curling and then extending one foot.

It was ridiculously difficult, and getting it to become second nature felt like it might kill him, but the efforts back then were far from wasted.

“It’s a good way to kill time.” Jaxon, who had been watching, didn’t exactly praise him with those words.

If he had truly thought it was pointless, he would’ve told him to practice dodging with a dagger instead.

After learning how to push off the ground with one foot, he even gave it a name.

“Let’s call it the Limping Step.” He hammered the lessons into his body and refined them further.

After repeating the day nine times, Encrid was in the process of developing a faster sword with his left hand than with his right.

It wasn’t easy.

There were repeated failures.

There were times when his sword barely grazed the child’s body, but somehow, as if someone was watching, the scroll would immediately explode.

Encrid mentally ran through the scenario countless times.

‘Preparation is necessary.’ He applied what he had learned from Jaxon.

What needed to be done to draw the fastest sword?

Was there a way to block the observing eyes?

On the fifteenth day, as a seemingly insurmountable wall blocked his path, it was a moment when anyone might start to despair.

“I pity you, so I’ll tell you the way.

You have two paths before you.” The ferryman spoke.

Pity?

That word didn’t seem to suit a ferryman at all.