A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Upon reflection, there were many strange aspects.

Encrid had left a scratch on Rem’s cheek.

But had he ever seen his platoon members get hurt like that before?

Even when facing opponents or on the battlefield, they rarely got injured.

They remained unscathed.

Unless it was intentional, they generally fought without knowing injury.

How was this possible?

‘The Sense of Evasion.’

It wasn’t simply a technique for avoiding attacks.

There was something vague that had been grasped, and now he intended to unravel it piece by piece.

Facing the charging knolls, Encrid scattered his hands in the air.

To an unfamiliar observer, especially to Krais, it might have seemed like he was just waving his hands in the air, but that wasn’t the case.

Thud, thud, thud.

Using his hands as strings, his chest as a launching pad, and utilizing the elasticity of his whole body, he threw daggers.

The daggers, now beams of light, embedded themselves into the heads and necks of the knolls and hyena beasts.

The action of drawing and throwing the daggers was so fast that it was barely visible.

Had his throwing skills not improved over time?

Indeed, they had. Thanks to the development of his Isolation Technique, strength training, and the balanced improvement of his bodily control.

Three beasts died instantly. Their charging bodies turned into corpses that rolled on the ground.

Other knolls and hyenas stumbled over them.

The ones that tripped became a tangled mess, over which more knolls and hyena beasts trampled.

The sound of their footsteps, ‘thud, thud’, was grating on the ears.

“A cult!”

Next to him, Luagarne pulled out a whip, shouted the same word, and dashed forward.

“Damn it! What the hell is this!”

Krais’s voice, filled with alarm, was also heard.

“Kyaa!”

Esther likewise stood guard beside him.

“The, the, ahhh!”

Even the shouts of the worker who had come out to urinate.

It was the same day.

But it was met differently. Encrid’s hands moved ceaselessly.

It was the second day.

This time it was a little different, more leisurely than before.

They already knew a wave of indiscriminate monsters was coming.

He threw all the daggers he had without hesitation.

A sharp whistling sound.

He killed the charging monsters and beasts by the dozens.

Yet, the fact remained unchanged.

There were many. The swarm of monsters and beasts became a wave again. Those who leaped over the corpses charged at Encrid.

“Front of the leader!”

Krais shouted as he drew his short sword with a metallic clang.

Encrid controlled his breathing.

He had learned something from the previous day, something that could only be felt when fighting for one’s life.

He honed his senses, sharpening his perception. Within the realms of intuition and instinct.

He received and parried the knoll’s attacks in succession, thrusting his sword into openings.

More vigorously than ever.

If nothing else, Encrid was confident in his stamina.

Coupled with his accumulated experience, he was like a compactor, grinding down the monsters and beasts.

Crack!

Some died with their heads severed.

Others died from being stabbed.

Amidst the chaos, the sounds of metal clashing and flesh tearing mingled.

Krais, watching this, couldn’t help but widen his eyes in amazement.

‘A monster.’

The impression he had felt when watching Rem or the other platoon members resurfaced.

Such was the level of Encrid’s movements.

He blocked everything, countered everything. His sword sliced through knolls and hyenas effortlessly.

Whether Krais was moved, amazed, or spouted nonsense,

Encrid heightened his focus. No, he had entered a naturally heightened state.

He shut out everything around him.

Only the sword remained in this world.

As time seemed to slow, only the enemy, himself, the sword, the world, and his sharpened intuition remained.

Before the relentless wave of monsters, the best a lone human could do.

Encrid swung his sword.

But the outcome did not change.

By midday, the sunlight was brighter, and while he was less injured than before,

this time, both of his thighs were severely slashed.

He couldn’t avoid the two cursed gladius swords.

Krais’s body was not found this time.

Encrid endured another repeated day, lasting just as long.

‘Perhaps that’s a relief.’

He noticed Esther had somehow climbed onto the roof of a hut. Her large, blue eyes seemed to hold some emotion, but he had neither the time nor the leisure to discern what it was.

“Grrr!”

The hyena’s characteristic growl echoed as the colony leader emerged.

It was the leader of the monsters.

It was the same as before. With his thighs injured and unable to move, evasion was more difficult, making the situation even worse than before.

However, Encrid was certain that his skills were improving, even in just one day.

Harsh and brutal as it was, his senses were becoming sharper.

“See you again.”

Encrid muttered incomprehensible words to the knoll, then died, flailing in poison.

Darkness. The ferryman did not appear, and a new day began.

This time, he didn’t bother to ask Luagarne unnecessary questions.

She was leaving regardless. There was no need to ask out of curiosity.

Asking why she wasn’t staying to protect the place would be a futile question.

Telling her to come back would be meaningless.

If she were going to return, she wouldn’t have left in the first place.

Leaving meant that whatever she was going after was more important to her.

Instead,

Rattle, rattle.

“It seems your way of waking people up is rather unique.”

He decided to wake himself up while gathering his gear.

“The weather is good. I thought it would be nice to wake up early.”

“Oof. It’s dawn, dawn. The moon hasn’t even set yet.”

Krais grumbled beside him, but Encrid ignored it.

He began sweating again.

This day was short. Or more accurately, there was little time to devote to training.

So what to do? Use battle as a field for training and practice.

That’s what Encrid did.

The pain of addiction, the terrible agony and torment?

It’s something that can be endured.

What is it that helps forget the pain?

The joy of progress, even if it’s just crawling forward.

Above all, now it felt like walking rather than crawling. A slightly brisk walk, a sense of progress.

How could that not be joyful?

‘This time, a little more.’

It was a continuous challenge.

Encrid set his own goals.

Simple but clear goals.

To delay the moment of injury as much as possible in the repeating days.

At first, he was struck on the shoulder after just a few battles.

The next day, he got slashed in both thighs, and then he was hit in the abdomen by a spear.

Thanks to his sturdy armor, it wasn’t fatal, but if his reactions had been just a bit slower, it could have been.

‘Still lacking, always lacking.’

It was self-reflection. Encrid recognized his shortcomings through his experiences so far.

“Platoon Leader Brother, martial arts are best learned through repetition until your body remembers, not just your mind. So, get rolling.”

He recalled Audin’s words.

“As soon as you see it, your body should react. Then you can dodge it. There’s no need for some weird concentration technique of a lazy person.”

He also remembered Jaxon’s words.

Encrid adapted the training to enhance his coordination and reflexes through body perception and senses in his own way.

‘What if I could make my muscles remember in every situation?’

That’s what he did.

In the repeating days, amidst the waves of monsters.

The third day, the fourth day, the fifth day.

He struggled and fought in every single one of those days.

Thus, more than twenty days passed.

Training was a given, but if the wave of monsters the ferryman spoke of was a wall, it seemed insurmountable.

Unless he became a Knight or had comparable strength.

Yet Encrid didn’t let this concern him.

He only built up today for the sake of tomorrow.

There were no distractions.

In the repeating ‘todays’, he simply did what needed to be done.

At first, he could handle fewer than ten monsters. After twenty days, he could block and dodge all attacks in the midst of the knolls, taking dozens of breaths while doing so.

“Wow.”

It was a feat impressive enough to leave the workers, who should have been fleeing, standing agape.

However, he couldn’t yet move through the monsters without getting a scratch.

So, what did he do? He kept repeating the process.

Thirty-some days passed.

Then another forty-some days passed.

Being poisoned every time, the pain became unbearable.

But he learned how to cope.

He endured the poison and kept swinging his sword.

What happens if you rush into the knoll’s ranks right after being poisoned?

Blades, hammers, axes, and spears would fly at you from all directions.

Slashing was far better than dying from the poison.

So, he rolled among the knolls and hyenas, risking his life. He rolled and rolled again.

In the midst of these days, he had opportunities to ask about the Cult.

“Have you heard of the Sacred Cult of the Demon Realm?”

It was a half-intentional question. With the days repeating and time short, he had no choice but to ask something new every day, making that his standard.

He decided to ask about the Cult once every ten days.

He counted the days that way.

If he was going to ask anyway, he posed meaningful questions.

“A rotten group of fanatics.”

Luagarne, being a Frog, did not hold back her hatred.

It was hate. A hatred so intense it seemed to make the center of her white, puffy cheeks appear red.

“I’ll kill them all. Every last one I see.”

It made sense why she had run off.

“I swore on my heart.”

When she uttered the word ‘heart’, Luagarne’s demeanor showed her to be a seasoned Frog.

She hesitated a bit but eventually spoke.

This alone showed how remarkable a Frog she was.

The Sacred Cult of the Demon Realm.

Whether that was the official name or not, it referred to the group of madmen who believed their god was imprisoned in a source of monsters that humans couldn’t replicate.

A cult among cults.

The most notorious heresy on the continent.

It was said that they even used strange summoning rituals with humans as sacrifices.

And what came from those summons? Monsters. Sometimes even evil spirits.

Not all monsters were the same.

There were famous monsters across the continent, and rumors abounded that they were the result of these summoning rituals.

What might have been dismissed as mercenary gossip was confirmed by Luagarne to be true.

“You know Salamanders, right?”

It was a well-known monster.

It wasn’t enough that it scattered flames from its skin, it also spewed fire, earning it its nickname.

“That’s one of those bastards’ creations.”

The rumor was true.

“I was there.”

Luagarne was a witness.

So, does this matter?

Not really.

It was just a marker he remembered while repeating these days.

The training and practice began anew.

There was also a process of reflecting on the mistakes made in previous days.

It was around the fiftieth day.

‘I pushed too hard.’

Confident in his stamina, he expended everything from the start.

‘I’ll need to manage my stamina better.’

Learning how to fight in a multi-enemy situation, such things naturally became ingrained in him.

Days passed, marked by the knolls’ stench that made him shudder.

Encrid had repeated these days eighty-nine times.

Still, he could not stand before the leader without any injuries.

No, it was more accurate to say that unless he was injured, the leader wouldn’t appear.

He had extended his endurance from noon to evening.

Yet nothing changed.

The fact that he died remained the same, aside from being able to watch the sunset.

“You, you’re sly.”

He had to be injured, sustaining a critical wound for the leader to appear.

For instance, a hole in his abdomen or a nearly severed ankle.

The leader, of course, couldn’t be reasoned with.

In ninety-six repetitions, he was killed by the leader’s dagger. The end of each struggle was death, a seemingly predetermined fate.

Through these repeated days, he naturally began to learn the knolls’ habits.

‘Knolls have long upper bodies and short legs.’

Learning through the monsters’ physique.

They were slow on their feet but quick with their hands.

They wielded human weapons, albeit without formal techniques, often swinging wildly.

Their strength was akin to that of an average adult male, but their short legs made their charge slower than expected.

They enjoyed attacking from blind spots, and once in close combat, they would bite without hesitation.

Avoiding being bitten was crucial.

Their bite force was exceptional.

Both hyenas and knolls.

If bitten, without activating the power of the ‘Heart of the Beast’, it was nearly impossible to break free.

He also learned something else.

‘Two swords.’

When using two swords combined with the ‘Heart of the Beast’, he could accomplish incredible feats in a single moment.

“I could cut through everything.”

Even Krais felt relaxed enough to joke.

The problem was sustainability.

No matter how well he managed his stamina, he couldn’t maintain it indefinitely.

So, he repeated the process.

Dodge and dodge again.

The Sense of Evasion was somewhat a matter of innate talent.

While Jaxon claimed it could be developed through training, it only worked for those naturally predisposed to it.

Encrid addressed this by engraving each movement into his body.

Thus,

‘The muscles remember.’

He ingrained the act of seeing and reacting into his muscles through countless repetitions.

It became a reflex not stored in the mind but in the body.

Through repetition, he reached a point where he could react instantly upon seeing something.

His body coordination had finally settled in.

Seeing, evading, and reacting in an instant.

It became possible.

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