325 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

325. Encrid finally collapsed to the floor only after Kraice had departed. His legs were too weak to hold him up any longer. He landed with a thud, hitting the ground with his backside first. A heavy impact reverberated through his glutes. "It feels even more exhausting than being trapped by a thousand soldiers." The day had been more grueling than when he had desperately fought against many adversaries, exerting his body to the limit. Naturally so. After all, he had only swung his sword once this time. However, the fatigue that concentrated into that brief moment was extreme. Dizziness set in, and his mouth went dry. A sense of powerlessness was overwhelming. It felt as if all his strength was draining from his muscles. This was aside from the pain in his dislocated shoulder. It was incomparable to earlier today. The difference was beyond words if measured by time. No wonder the boatman kept singing about despair. He would often sing, as if he'd been writing songs and poems about it. Yet, they made it through. No, to be precise, they took charge of the situation and overcame it. They flipped the concept of merely receiving blows. By advancing first, they handled the "once." In the end, it was no different than taking a knight's sword blow. Ultimately, his dislocated shoulder and trembling body persisted, proving their survival and triumph. "Luck." Luck played a role, but more than that, it was contemplation and effort. Encrid was about to lie down, but someone stopped him. "Careful with the brazier." It was Sinar's hand. If he lay back, his burned back might aggravate. Her palm gently supported the back of his head. Not all his hair was burned, but the singed strands crumbled, falling like graphite dust to the floor. "What an event." Sinar remarked at the spot where the knight had vanished. "Yes, it truly is." Encrid replied, looking at the same spot. "Unbelievable." Ragna muttered to himself. Hearing it from Ragna made the knight’s formidable strength feel all the more surreal and inhuman. For Ragna to call something unbelievable— Ragna reaffirmed his path as he took another blow from the knight's sword. The opened path became clearer. So his task was clear. To maintain the current motivation. Fortunately, he did not need to work hard for that. "Next time." Encrid was already muttering about it. He spoke of future hopes and glory against the knight's sword. Ragna felt a strong urge not to be left behind by Encrid's resolve. It was quite amusing. So much so that he laughed. "What's so funny about taking a blow and smiling?" The commander commented unnecessarily. "Then why is the commander laughing?" Encrid, who asked this, also smiled. Despite the pain, with his back burned and sitting on the floor, he laughed. "If you want to laugh, just laugh. Haha!" Dunbakel added beside them. None answered her remark. --- The knight Jamal left, guided by Kraice. No one stepped in his way. "Captain Encrid's orders. Let him through. Don't obstruct him. Clear the path, clear the path." Kraice led the way, paving a path ahead. Within the current camp, the name Encrid was like a legendary sword capable of cutting anything. Who would dare stop him? Even Captain Garrett couldn't do anything, making it no different from wielding power based on the soldiers' respect. Still, some soldiers occasionally cast hostile glances. The knight’s calm demeanor likely unsettled them. There’d always be some fierce-tempered soldiers anywhere. "Move aside." Kraice deliberately hardened his gaze. Knight Jamal paid no heed to his surroundings. Why should he bother, as long as the soldiers were only at a level he could cut down at any time? Since it was not an honorable action, he did not prefer to step forward first, but if challenged, he could stab and slice without mercy. Luckily, no one challenged him, so Jamal asked out of sheer curiosity. "Is that kind of madness usual for you?" There was no need to specify whom he was referring to. Kraice immediately understood. No matter how he thought about it, it seemed as if Encrid had recognized him and launched his attack. Judging by his question about his affiliation, he didn't seem to know who he was, but he might have roughly gauged his skill. Hence, he directly included "Will" in his sword blow. It was a strike mixed with pressure, one he couldn’t not defend against. It seemed like it had been a long time since he was forced to swing his sword like that. A refreshing experience. Avenair might be appalled if he knew, but there's always something unavoidable. That’s what led him to ask. Was that madman always like that? 'If it had been just slightly different—' Encrid would have died. In other words, he had risked his life in swinging that sword. Setting aside the talk of honor, it was a sword thrusting through a tiny gap. The path he split through was akin to a place full of blades. Had he judged just a little slower, twisted the direction just slightly, 'He would have died.' Yet, was there hesitation in his opponent’s sword? Even as a blade that risked his life cut through, how did it show no reluctance? He called it a weighted sword. In just one moment, Encrid's sword lived up to its name. It crushed. It forced a reaction. Seeing that, how could the opponent seem normal? Even knights are human; fear and instinct are expected. Encrid seemed like a person outside the norm. Indeed, the knight’s perceptiveness was remarkable. From exchanging just one sword blow, he saw all he needed to see. Kraice carefully chose his words to reply. "You have a good eye. Yes, he is a madman." Kraice internally admired the making of a knight. His intuition was extraordinary, wasn’t it? To recognize his captain’s madness in an instant. "I see." The knight departed. Jamal had no more questions. Though the news was grim, it was time to return to his post after delivering his message. Would this incident spur Nawrilia into waging a large-scale war? The knight had drawn his sword, so the repercussions would be significant. --- Garrett belatedly rushed into the wrecked tent. Only arriving when safety was ensured, his survival instinct matched Kraice’s. "What's the meaning of all this?" Despite everything, Garrett wore a look of shock. Encrid explained everything, and Garrett chose not to disclose the incident. There was no benefit in revealing that a knight had come and gone. Should they tell the soldiers, who just thought they had won and everything was over, that a knight might soon return to cut them down? Even if assured the knight wouldn’t return, accepting it emotionally was a different matter. The individuals here seemed to have already set aside their worries. Moreover, Garrett had another reason for keeping quiet. "I need to report this to the central command first." Garrett stated. Kraice, who had returned after escorting the knight out, squinted at this. "Isn't it possible to just let this slide?" "That's not really up to us to decide." Kraice furrowed his brow. A stench of politics was in the air. Would something arise from this incident? Certainly. ‘Political advantage.’ Azpen was the first to break the pact. Though it wasn't a full non-aggression treaty, hadn't it been said not to cross the line for a while? They ignored that and crossed the border, only to lose. And they even sent a knight? This wouldn't be brushed aside. No doubt, Namuelia would stand to gain significant political benefit from this. They might agree to cover up the knight’s involvement under the condition of temporarily halting any war. It was all too obvious to Kraice. While it wasn’t directly his concern, it wasn’t entirely irrelevant to him either. Even amidst the stench, there were gains to be had. ‘From the Border Guard’s perspective.’ It would be a huge gain. It would benefit him as well if he could put his hand in. His mind naturally wandered towards earning advantages. "Alright, then get treated first." Garrett clapped his hands lightly and addressed the situation. After drawing everyone’s attention, he went outside and issued orders. A group of soldiers came in to clean up the mess in the tent after the commotion. Two medics set Encrid’s dislocated shoulder. Despite the considerable pain involved in repositioning a bone, Encrid remained calm. The sound of the bone snapping back into place made Dunbakel grimace. It was an unsettling sound. "Does it not hurt?" One of the medics asked, almost involuntarily. He’d heard of a rare disease where one couldn’t feel pain from birth. Was it such a condition? "It does hurt." "But you didn’t even let out a groan." "It doesn’t hurt any less if I do." While true, people naturally cry out when hurt. "You’re something else, Captain." Yet, why did they call him Captain? Encrid didn’t have the energy to respond. He neither groaned nor screamed but was bedridden with a fever for two days. In the meantime, Azpen retreated. Encrid heard the news in a daze. It seemed his body had truly been pushed to its limit. Still, it wasn’t all bad. During his fever, he even met the boatman. "Don’t get cocky." The boatman said. Encrid felt slightly wronged. He hadn’t said anything, just sat on the boat gazing leisurely at the dark waters. He simply thought it was worthwhile to observe the pitch-black water, even if only temporarily. Thinking it could be seen as a landscape that changed with one's mindset. "Arrogant." The boatman continued. There was no other conversation. There wasn’t anything else to say. "Sooner or later, a wall will block your path." The boatman spoke for the third time. Encrid nodded at that. It had always been that way, and it would continue to be. It was referred to as a curse. However, Encrid didn’t feel it as one. For him, it was an opportunity. An opportunity to bridge the gap between those with talent and those without. An opportunity that shaped who he was now. An opportunity that had allowed him to contest the knight’s sword. Without knowing why, Encrid suddenly felt inclined and said: "Thank you." As always, it was said with genuine sincerity. The boatman was unlike any other. Even when faced with unexpected words, he didn’t seem flustered. And that was it. The dream ended. Upon waking from the fever, Encrid saw Dunbakel nodding off in front of him. Why was she sitting there? He felt something placed on his forehead. It was a wet cloth. It was moderately cool. It looked like she had been frequently changing it. "Hey, why don’t you lie down and sleep?" "I just dozed off for a moment." Dunbakel wiped her mouth and opened her eyes. After blinking a few times and yawning, she scratched her cheek and then her neck with one hand in a manner that was rather amusing for someone trying to appear bashful—even if she didn’t truly appear so to him. "It felt like taking care of a little sick sibling." "I’m older, you know." "Well, I’ll get stronger. Strong enough to handle any scoundrel that comes our way, so don’t die." Dunbakel had glimpsed Encrid’s death for a fleeting moment. Her beastly survival instinct roared. She felt that if she faced him, she’d die. And yet, Encrid charged forward. Facing an opponent that instantly brought death to mind, he charged nonetheless. Dunbakel reflected on herself for not stepping forward in that moment. She felt a sense of failure. ‘I haven’t changed.’ That was the worst. She hadn’t stayed here to live differently from the days of surviving off a thief's blade? But she didn’t want to die. Stuck at a crossroads with two paths, she hadn’t been able to walk either. So, what should she do? ‘Let’s become incredibly strong.’ It was her tentative conclusion. Dwelling in despair belonged in the past; it was time to move forward. Was that not what she had learned from her crazy captain, Encrid? "You don’t die either." Encrid replied instinctively. After what had happened, or when he couldn’t move, Dunbakel had rushed at the knight’s sword with a contorted expression numerous times. Knowing she was rushing to her death was evident just by watching. But she still rushed in. What had driven her? "Don't overdo it..." "I'll definitely become stronger. Sniff. So, if you ever need a woman's warmth, just say the word. I'll lie with you." Before Encrid could finish speaking, Dunbakel interrupted with her own words. Was she learning this tendency to only say what she wanted to from Rem? It was strange how she seemed to be adopting even such traits. "I have Esther for that." A leopard was already settled in Encrid’s arms. Its eyes, reminiscent of a blue lake, looked at Dunbakel. Dunbakel, with her golden eyes, looked at Esther and spoke. "No monopolizing." What was that supposed to mean? "Growl." Esther let out something akin to a scoff. Was it just imagination, or did it seem like Esther was challenging her to try and take Encrid away? At that, Dunbakel relented and backed off. After Encrid slept a bit more and woke up, the outside of the camp was in an uproar. With Azpen's retreat, it was a victory. Thus, the festivities had begun.