A Knight Who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 296

Chapter 296: CHAPTER 294 Chapter 296: CHAPTER 294 The scene unfolded on a dark river, atop a small ferry.

A violet lamp stood still, shining alone, but its light barely spread beyond its immediate vicinity.

It was just enough to see one’s own hands.

Despite being a familiar setting, today it felt more eerie than usual.

Even the ferryman’s tone was heavier, resonating through the heart and shaking the mind.

Encrid, intrigued by a particularly interesting part of what was being said, asked.  “A path?” Wasn’t he supposed to enjoy the suffering caused by being trapped against a wall?

So why give advice?

“Step back and watch.

If you evade, the path will open.” Usually, today was a day to endure and start anew.

In other words, evading wouldn’t be a way to face tomorrow.

But now, he was being told to avoid it?

The ferryman’s voice grew even more weighty.

“Evade.” The whining voice pierced through Encrid’s entire being, as if it was tearing through his insides.

There was no pain, it was a matter of sensation.

No, this was the realm of the mind, so it wasn’t even a sensation.

It was a mental issue.

What mattered was not the effect the voice had, but something deeper.

Encrid did not doubt the ferryman.

He didn’t question his purpose either.

The ferryman’s role was to keep him in ‘today’.

Perhaps that’s why he understood.

“A demon always comes in the guise of an angel.” Suddenly, a line from the sacred texts Audin recited every day came to mind.

“Evade.” The ferryman, still tearing through Encrid’s insides and scrambling his thoughts, continued to speak.

With that, the dark river suddenly receded, and Encrid found himself opening his eyes-again-a strange experience, as if he had already opened them once before, and he faced a new day.

The ferryman’s words lingered in his mind more vividly than ever.

Unlike usual dreams, which faded into a vague memory, this one did not.

It felt as if he had been brainwashed.

‘Run away.

Turn back.

Abandon just one child, and you can easily pass this day.

That would be enough.’ Indeed, Encrid understood the situation clearly.

The ferryman had offered him an easy way to get through ‘today’.

He pondered the words, and the more he did, the more he felt the desire to follow them.

“Is it really necessary to go this far?”  Krais’s slightly altered voice echoed in his mind.

The ferryman’s words were true.

Desire and longing combined with reason to point to a single path.

But why at this moment?

“Maybe I’ll acknowledge you later.

If I become famous for making potions, I might even give you one, so you better stay on my good side.” He recalled the image of a small child standing with hands on hips, chin raised, chattering away.

Originally, rejection should only react to the same type of pressure-whether it’s from willpower, a skill like Intimidation, or the inherent fear that monsters instill in humans.

Encrid instinctively knew this but muttered to himself.  ‘I refuse.’ Yet, in his mind, the ‘easy path’ kept echoing.

Again and again, reason told him it was the right choice.

His instincts agreed.

Despite limping, Encrid stepped forward to the front lines.

“…You’re going out again today?”  A soldier standing beside him asked.

Encrid’s face was covered with small cuts.

“I’ll be out again tomorrow too.” As he answered, Encrid threw off his leather helmet.

Helmets narrowed his vision and dulled some of his senses.

This time, he would thrust his sword before the spell could be cast.

‘By the quickest path.’ He traced the path and visualized the movement that would execute it.

A breeze brushed against his cheek.

Though it was daytime, the sky was dark, and the wind that touched his face was a biting cold wind.

Through the sharp, cold air, the scent of the battlefield pierced his nose.

Blood, steel, excrement, fear, terror, excitement, tension.

Everything was interpreted by the brain through the smell, merging the senses divided by the five into one, opening the Gate of the Sixth Sense.

As the Focus Point activated, his brain ignited, making everything on the battlefield appear to move in slow motion.

Soon, a child came running.

He blocked out the surrounding sounds.

No need to listen.

He focused solely on the child, ignoring everything else.

No need to see anything else.

All his senses-sight, hearing, smell, touch-blurred together to form a single line.

Point to point.

‘I am also just a point.’ He perceived himself as a point and saw the path the child was running as another point.

The shortest line connecting those two points.

His right knee bent deeply, then extended.

Even without ‘Will’ infused, his thighs, strengthened through intense training, propelled Encrid’s body forward at an astonishing speed.

At the same time, he thrust the sword in his left hand forward.

To the observing soldier, the blade appeared before the human body did.

The blue-tinged blade moved faster than an arrow.

That’s how it seemed to the soldier watching.

Encrid faced today more swiftly than any other day.

He saw the child’s face.

He saw the eyes.

He saw the nose.

He saw the mouth.

The face of a child who had dreamed of becoming an herbalist, already dead, overlapped with the child’s face in front of him.

The sword struck toward the child’s shoulder.

With a delicate adjustment, it cut the strap on the shoulder.

The scroll hanging from the child’s chest, now cut in half, wavered as it spilled light.

It was a failure.

* * * “You are foolish.” The ferryman’s voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

Encrid did not respond.

He acted as he had before.

He repeated the same ‘today’.

When does a person despair?

If you’re told from the start that something is impossible, you might actually take it calmly.

You accept it.

You recognize it as the end.

But what if it seems within reach?

What if you almost touch it, but don’t?

Despair arrives at that moment.

And if, at that moment, someone shows you a shortcut, subtly hints at an easier way?

The ferryman, now changed as he was, felt puzzled by this being he had encountered for the first time.

Why doesn’t this human give up?

Why doesn’t this human feel despair?

Why, how can he be like this?

Doubt crept into the ferryman’s mind, and that doubt led him to make a second offer.

It was after eighty-six iterations of ‘today’ had passed.

“Even if you regret it, it will be too late.” Encrid tilted his head at the sudden remark.

Expressing such emotions in the realm of the mind?

It was surprising, but considering how many surprising things this human had done, this was no longer shocking.

“But I am generous.” “Generous?” The fact that he responded with a counter question, even adding emphasis, showed how firm his resolve and will were.

In this world of the mind, he spoke not with his body, but with his will.

His manner of speaking and attitude were utterly irreverent, but that didn’t matter.

The ferryman already knew this and realized that if he played along with such antics, he would only make a fool of himself.

So he chose to ignore it and continued with what he had to say.

“I’ll give you one more chance.” “Again?” Even so, that response was grating to hear.

The way Encrid tilted his head and furrowed his brow, as if mocking, made it all the more irritating.

However, the ferryman had long since transcended being human, so he remained composed.

If he were still living in the physical world, he would have cursed aloud.

But he was different from such humans, wasn’t he?

“Don’t let the entity behind the wall get closer.

Make it cross the river before it reaches you.” The ferryman maintained his aura, while Encrid, still in the same stance as before, questioned again.

“The river?” The ferryman took a breath, something he usually didn’t need to do.

A deep one.

Then he dismissed his opponent.

Only after Encrid disappeared from the realm of the mind did the ferryman allow his true feelings to show.

“Bastard.” It was a brief, but strong and clear expression of his will.

Even though he had tried to subtly manipulate Encrid and plant his intentions in the man’s mind… ‘The bastard will act on his own.’ The ferryman had a premonition that Encrid would betray his intentions.

And realizing this, the ferryman unknowingly let out a chuckle.

“Heh.” It was the first genuine emotion he had shown since becoming a ferryman.

A laugh that was half exasperation, half amusement.

* * * ‘He keeps spouting nonsense.

Is he bored?’ Encrid, who usually ignored all paths and bulldozed through everything, of course, dismissed this latest offer without a second thought.

His mind was consumed by a single thought.

‘Can it be done any faster?’ He connected the dots, his brain burning with focus, feeling as if his eyes would pop out.

And yet, it was still a failure.

So what is speed?

He thought he had seen many swords that embodied the essence of speed-those that were precise, quick, and sharp.

The answer came suddenly and easily.

“My hand wasn’t the fastest when I used to pickpocket.

But I was the best.

My hands were a bit slower, but I was quick to read the situation.

I just had to strike when the other person wasn’t looking.

Trying to win by sheer speed alone is something only fools do, right?” These words were from Krais, who happened to pass by after Encrid had exchanged the fastest sword strikes with Ragna and discussed the preemptive techniques of Valaf-Style Martial Arts with Audin.

It was a trivial statement, and Krais didn’t even mean much by it.

In fact, what he said next was likely his real point.

“Our enemy knows us well.

It’s like trying to pickpocket Krona while they’re staring right at us.” He was saying that the situation was dire and they needed an unpredictable element, but Encrid didn’t respond.

No, he couldn’t respond.

Krais’s words struck Encrid’s mind like lightning.

‘From outside the range of perception.’ Speed is relative.

No matter how fast you are, if your intentions are visible, it’s slow.

If the enemy knows your intentions, they will prepare accordingly.

“Hey, you’re doing it again?

Can’t you hear me?

Hey?

Enki, you bastard!” Krais waved his hand and jumped up and down in front of him, but Encrid didn’t hear him.

Encrid had sunk deep into his own world.

His mouth hung half-open, and drool dripped down.

Even so, his thoughts didn’t stop.

“Enough.” Ragna pulled Krais away.

Encrid was in the process of breaking through something that had been confining his thoughts.

The enemy’s intentions and his own.

A human can convey meaning with just a gesture.

The art of distracting an opponent’s attention with hand movements developed from this.

Magic tricks performed with sleight of hand work in the same way.

It’s a skill easily seen in gambling dens.

Such is the nature of intent.

‘Deceive.’ One can deceive an opponent with mere intent.

Speed is acting outside the opponent’s perception.

Is this a battle of speed fought right in front of the enemy’s eyes?

No, at least Encrid didn’t see it that way.

This time, the wall was about whether he could save the child or not.

He had made up his mind about that.

Therefore, what he needed was an Illusionary Sword or a Phantom Sword.

The Valen Mercenary Sword Technique had countless such techniques.

‘Ah.’ A realization dawned on him.

Lightning struck his mind repeatedly.

What is speed?

It’s executing an action outside the opponent’s perception.

It’s ending the fight without even showing the opponent a fast sword.

The image of Jaxon’s deathless thrust flashed through his mind.

He added something new.

‘The Sense of Evasion relies on instinct.’ The Sense of Evasion avoids anything that falls within the realm of the sixth sense.

What if he added intent on top of that?

What if he gave direction to that instinct?

This was a path he hadn’t seen before.

It felt just within reach, and that’s why.

That’s why he had been fixated on speed.

But no, there isn’t just one path.

‘And if it’s also absolutely fast, even better.’ They say if you chase two rabbits, you won’t catch either.

But the experiences he’d accumulated, his left arm honed through mistakes, and his speed-all these things now showed him the path where both rabbits were running.

It felt like he could catch them both.

Above all, the previous training with Jaxon had been helpful.

Hadn’t he trained in using the Sense of Evasion at close range?

What was the purpose of dodging stones during that training?

Every question must have an intent, and every training session was a process leading to the result.

For Encrid, the result was singular.

‘Intent over instinct.’ The Sense of Evasion is a celebration of instinct.

It makes the body react through the sixth sense and intuition.

That’s why it’s called the Sense of Evasion.

It’s a skill born from the instinct to protect one’s body.

Encrid twisted that skill.

‘Imbue it with intent.’ It was a concept that could just as well be called the Sense of Attack.

Clang.

The psychological shackles the ferryman had implanted were shattered.

The wall that seemed so easily within reach, yet insurmountable.

And then, the offer that was given at that moment.

Everything is a trap.

Everything is a prison that confines him.

But Encrid didn’t even set foot near the prison.

He ignored the offer and found a new path on his own.

‘Ah.’ At the end of this realization, before he knew it, a new day had come, and the battlefield awaited him.

“Again today…” “What doesn’t kill me…” He was at the forefront of the battlefield, cutting off the words of the soldier who asked the same question every day beside him.

The soldier blankly met his gaze and finished the sentence.

“…only makes me stronger.” In reality, it’s the pain that doesn’t kill you that makes you stronger.

But the current phrase resonated more with him.

Encrid pushed through the biting wind and stepped forward.

From the other side of the battlefield, a child wrapped in scrolls came running towards him.