328 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

328. **The Agility of Thought** For three consecutive days, Encrid engaged in intense contemplation and rehearsal. He had no choice otherwise. The extent to which he had pushed his body bordered on the miraculous that it hadn’t broken down. As a result, his physical training was limited to only the simplest of movements. Just a few exercises to maintain flexibility and a bit of sword swinging into the air to stay sharp. All remaining time was devoted to contemplation and rehearsal. Yet, it wasn’t particularly tiresome. “Using your body right now is like pouring water into a broken vessel. Brother,” Audin remarked. What he meant was that no matter what Encrid did now, barely anything could be salvaged as it would just slip through. In the past, before becoming aware of repeating today’s events, he would have kept on going regardless of whether the vessel broke or not. But now, he knew better. There are times when one must rest. “It’s necessary to rest properly in order to move forward, Brother. There was a goat named ‘Nu’ in the old days. Nu could walk endlessly. That was because it had very strong legs. The goat Nu walked without ever resting, believing that moving forward without pause was the reason it was given such strong legs. Yet the Lord, witnessing this, said, ‘If you walk without knowing your direction, you will end up lost.’” Audin’s sermon was lengthy but not unpleasant to hear. Beside him, Teresa knelt, listening alongside him. The two matched each other curiously well. To begin with, they were of a similar stature, leading them to be nicknamed the giant siblings. Looking back now, even their atmospheres seemed to blend together. After Audin’s sermon and nagging, Teresa shared her stories of what had happened. Reflecting on their first meeting, it could have been awkward, but Encrid had a knack for smoothing out relationships between people. If conversing was a skill, Encrid was quite proficient. “Taking a break because of an injury, we’re in the same boat,” he remarked. “Yes, indeed,” she agreed. “Won’t they come charging after you with glaring eyes now that you’ve killed the bishop?” “I am not sure.” “What’s your countermeasure?” “I plan to do what I can.” Surprisingly, Teresa wasn’t very informed about happenings within her sect. Thus, obtaining information through her was challenging. Nonetheless, in those circumstances, Krais seemed to be piecing together some insights from bits and pieces of what he heard. “Recently, I’ve been learning to sing,” Teresa suddenly mentioned. Her voice was notably husky. It had a rough quality, like coarse wood grain, yet Encrid, with his keen senses honed through his art, could peer into the advantages of her voice. ‘Although it’s husky,’ he thought, ‘it's a charming voice.’ It’s the kind of voice that, though resembling rough wood, when crafted into a table, could become a splendid piece of furniture. Encrid himself had no talent for singing, but he had picked up quite a few songs here and there during his travels. It occurred to him that her husky voice might pair well with the unexpectedly clear and fine voice of Garett. “What were you up to while the commander was working hard?” “I was fighting.” “So, where were you fighting? Are you deliberately being vague? Oh, you like being hit, don’t you?” “I don’t.” “Alright, alright, let’s go. Let's spar, not fight.” In a corner, Rem was savagely drilling Dunbacal, almost as if waiting for this moment. Lagna was dozing off in another corner, still in the midst of recovery. Meanwhile, there was talk of a possible feast, but Encrid focused primarily on resting outside of basic training. His rest included contemplation, rehearsal, and dialogue with his comrades. He made sure to eat heartily. “If someone delivers an eel, make sure to try it.” He even went as far as recommending this. Rem, noticing Lagna nodding in agreement, showed interest. “So, that’s approved by that picky tongue? I’ve had eel too, but—” “The seasoning is different.” A strange air lingered inside the barracks, Encrid noticed. He had seen Lagna and Rem ignore each other, like indifferent birds countless times before. There was a tension that seemed similar to that which surrounds a brewing storm. None of this was unfamiliar to Encrid, so he shrugged it off with ease. “Here’s some ointment.” Shinar occasionally stopped by, dropping off more ointment. “Did you rob a fairy’s treasure vault or something?” “How did you guess?” Having grown accustomed to fairy humor, Encrid swiftly bantered back. “Just a hunch.” “I heard you survived and returned, thanks to that hunch. Quite commendable.” With a casual jest, Shinar vanished in a flash. The ointment was handmade. A faint herbal scent wafted from the small, worn clay pot, evidence that it was freshly prepared. The pot was old, but the content smelled new, hence, it was handmade. After Shinar left, life continued without disruption. Whenever he found a moment, Encrid delved inward, reflecting on what he had learned and mastered. With his inability to engage in rigorous physical activities, his mind needed to work furiously. This period granted him numerous insights. ‘Couldn’t intuition be applied in combat as well?’ It seemed entirely plausible. From a broader perspective, it could translate into the intuition necessary to determine the turning points in battle. ‘By focusing on the opponent standing before me, I can use this in different ways.’ It was a theory he had already proven through his clash with a knight of the Kongwang Order. His courage, derived from the heart of a beast, combined with the sharpness of trained senses, and an additional edge of concentration. What was he lacking? Contemplation is understanding. It’s the power to develop the vision to face one’s present self realistically. Having done this thousands of times, Encrid quickly grasped what he lacked. More precisely, he had the ability to discern what was necessary and what he was currently fixated upon, hence, the answer emerged easily. What he needed now was quick thinking and agility in terms of thought. How to respond to situations, moments, and phenomena. To swiftly process various possibilities and choose the best course of action. It wasn’t just a matter of sensory ability; thinking itself needed to become second nature. ‘Not intuition.’ It was about compressing the thinking process. The phrase “by feel” contained the intuition born of experience. The conclusion was the agility of thought. Relying solely on intuition leaves one vulnerable to deceitful blades. During that time, Encrid utilized the Valen mercenary sword to significant advantage. He never thought of himself as special. He always kept in mind that he could suffer defeat at any moment. It was only natural. Since leaving the village as a child, labeled a genius, he had experienced countless defeats and wounds. This is why repetition and training had become second nature to him. Once the flame of thought ignited within him, it never extinguished but burned brightly. While Encrid immersed himself deeply within his thoughts, events were transpiring outside, yet they were none of his concern. Or rather, they went unheard by him. “Who are you here to see?” He ignored the faint sounds from outside. Encrid delved deeper into himself. ‘The knight.’ The paths of that sword repeatedly appeared in his mind. His only achievement had been discerning its trajectory. He couldn’t even sense the knight’s breathing; it was after endless near-death observations that he could finally react. ‘What makes it different?’ He understood there was a difference. However, what was the fundamental reason behind it? As he submerged himself and analyzed deeply, realizations began to dawn upon him. By surpassing the repetitiveness of today, Encrid gained a new perspective. What was the speed required to rescue the child? Crossing the wall named strategy required perception. The knight’s sword was said to be despair. It was despair but also not. The broadened perspective and his previous experience facing the knight awoke something within Encrid. He changed his viewpoint to overcome the knight’s sword. Instead of defending, he struck first. That was how he overcame the condition the opponent had set, namely ‘once.’ ‘Ah.’ A small revelation flickered like a flame, extinguished, and then reignited. At the moment of recognition, Encrid urged himself towards transformation. What did he gain by kicking the ground to save the child? ‘A moment of will.’ He needed the speed to slip through the short gap when others’ attention wavered. Thus, 'will' was imbued in his actions. It was the same even when trapped in the framework of strategy. Are the shackles of ominousness, the senses of evasion, and embedding the intent to attack on top of sensation all different? No, they are the same. They permeate and blend into the art of sense. They merge and mold into one. In this way, he achieved an absurd level of intuition. Was ‘will’ not involved in that at all? No, it was. It was felt. It was possible because willpower, ‘will,’ was superimposed upon his intent. It was akin to realizing rejection to overcome intimidation. Consider the crushing sword crafted to withstand the knight’s blade. Here, Encrid pondered. Should he take a significant step forward? He felt he could. However, whether it was the right path, he didn’t know. He thought he closed his eyes while seated but perhaps dozed off since he saw a sailor. “Keep doing as you have been.” The sailor's face appeared vaguely and then vanished. Was it advice or a hindrance? Even in such moments, Encrid’s intuition activated. It sounded like advice. He set a milestone and decided to walk. Step by step, consistently, he decided to do as he always had. That felt like the answer. After settling his thoughts and opening his eyes, he heard Rem’s voice. “Why don’t you fix this habit of dozing off?” Unknowingly, he had once again lost himself in the world of the sword. “How long was it?” “It’s been two days.” Krais answered for him. However, that wasn’t the main problem it seemed. “It’d be best to see the Lord quickly.” “Why?” “There’s someone who’s been waiting since yesterday.” Encrid assessed the situation promptly. He was in the barracks, and Audin was nowhere to be seen. His enhanced hearing informed him that Audin was conversing with someone in the distance. “I intercepted them yesterday,” Rem added. His demeanor was a bit disgruntled. Encrid could deduce the situation. Once again, he had immersed himself, drooling, into the world of the sword, leading the unit to fend off disruptions. But knowing this, would the lord of Greyham have just left him alone? It seemed unlikely that anyone less significant would summon him out. “Who’s here?” Encrid asked as he stood up. “Count Molsen,” Krais replied. “In person?” “Yes.” Upon Krais’s confirmation, Encrid started moving. A monarch of the border, an ambitious monster and nobleman. If he came here, he must have a plan. “He specifically said he came to see you, so be careful.” Krais warned him. A noble had waited two days. Though he might push it further if necessary, that would be foolish. While Encrid was passionate about swords, he wasn’t foolish. He knew the easier path. Even though he was somewhat hungry, his mind was clear, and his body wasn’t in a terrible state. “Just a moment.” As Encrid headed quickly, Krais followed. Thinking Krais would catch up if he had anything to say, he headed straight towards the barracks’ entrance. There, with Audin, was a woman with long black hair, wearing a thin fur coat that stood out. It was Esther. “Tired of living as a leopard?” he teased. The fur had been soft and warm. Turning her head at his remark, Esther replied, “I didn’t become a beast by choice.” She was as prickly as ever. A man with a fierce impression and a woman in scale armor stood in front of Audin. The woman had her eyes half-closed, with a peculiar light emanating from them. The man appeared solid as rock, and the woman stood straight in posture. Several soldiers stood lined up behind the woman. “When you get the story, you should leave,” Krais started from behind before the woman, eyeing Encrid from head to toe, spoke. “Are you the man named Encrid?” “Yes, that’s me. And you are?” “Sister, you see, by waiting, he’s indeed come out.” Audin interjected. “It’s the second day, making the Count wait,” the man with the rocky demeanor finally spoke. His jaw muscles clenched as he gritted his teeth, the tension visible. His muscles seemed capable of crunching even rocks. Perhaps his main weapon was his teeth. They stood in front of the barracks. The soldiers on duty seemed puzzled, but Audin maintained his usual calm demeanor, adding with a gentle smile. “Well, now that he’s here, it’s all good, Brother.” “Do you take the Count’s name lightly in these lands? Careful, or there’ll be trouble, you big brute,” warned the man. Encrid stepped forward in front of Audin. Audin wasn’t one to get angry easily, but that didn’t mean he would simply brush aside provocations. Knowing this well, Encrid took the lead. Although Audin wouldn’t just start pounding on someone without reason, it was better to avoid unnecessary conflict. Now that Encrid was present, it should suffice. “My apologies. Let’s proceed now.” “I think you should hear us out first,” the woman standing straight and proper stated. She held a rounded helmet under one arm and wore a thick fur cloak; the color of her eyes was peculiar. Her pupils shimmered white. “She belongs to a clan that imbues spells into their eyes,” Esther’s voice came from behind. Is there such a clan? Encrid looked at her curiously. So what? The enchantment in her eyes wasn’t what mattered, was it? Though it seemed that was what brought Esther out here. Having a mage on the opposing side might’ve raised concerns, confirming Encrid’s suspicion. Esther was prepared to make them pay if they tried any clumsy tricks. Whispering incantations in secret would not go unchecked. Encrid scratched his chin with his right index finger. All this precaution just to ensure he wasn’t disturbed was nothing short of astonishing. ‘Or perhaps it’s not surprising anymore.’ That they would behave this way was now something he could fully anticipate. It was true. The woman with enchanted eyes spoke again. “We come from Baisar. Someone of importance awaits you.” How many nobles existed in the Kingdom of Nowrilia? Certainly more than a few. In that circle, Encrid, by common standards, was a rustic outsider. Though he’d been to the capital, living there was costly, and opportunities were few. That’s why he wandered the borders. Meeting a sword master on an obscure coastal corner wasn’t just happenstance. Even Encrid knew of Centerfol, also known as the Thumb Family, one of the five families that constituted the kingdom. Marcus’s original family. The Marquis of Baisar, a family also known colloquially as Centerfol or the Thumb Family. A family wielding substantial influence in the capital. Had Marcus returned, they wouldn’t have come in this manner. Someone else had come. Encrid pieced together the situation with a few words. Quick thinking was useful in such moments. By condensing the thought process, he decided and acted. “Let’s go together then.” He figured it wouldn’t matter since their intentions were obvious. In fact, he thought it might even be better for him. With this suggestion, the rock-jawed man and the woman with the enchanted eyes glanced at each other. It was clear they couldn’t afford to wait any longer. They had been excessively patient until now. Without the reputation of being a war hero, or the potential future knight, they wouldn’t have waited this long at all. Before long, both nodded in agreement.