336 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

336. Rem, standing on the land of gray ghouls, hurled the axe in his left hand. The moment his left arm traced a circle, the axe in his hand shot forward faster than an arrow. To Encrid, it appeared as nothing more than a vertical flash of light. Instinctively responding to the sensation of evasion, Encrid's body moved accordingly. He raised the blade of his sword to obscure the trajectory of the spinning axe. From the side, it seemed as if Rem's arm and Encrid's movement had synchronized perfectly. Clang! With a lively sound, the axe bounced off to the side. His grip felt heavy. The force behind the thrown axe was substantial. Encrid managed to block Rem's projectile. As Rem's left hand brushed against his waist, a stone was flicked into the air. It seemed like a meaningless action. After all, wasn't he just tossing a simple stone upward? Yet, this act created an opening that Encrid didn't miss. Closing the gap, he activated the will of ‘Moment’, striking with a fiery thrust. It was a sword technique he named the Lightning Thrust. Starting from the muscles in his thighs, he used the recoil of his entire body to spring forward as if flying. Days and nights spent wandering the battlefield had honed this thrust into a sleek and polished strike. The flash of light, which even Rem couldn’t ignore, flew like a dot. Clang! Instead of throwing it, Rem turned the remaining axe to the side. Blocking the blaze with the flat of the axe, the axe's blade caved in, as the fiery thrust penetrated halfway through. Simultaneously. The fiery blade started to twist sideways. The moment the blaze pierced through the axe's blade, Rem twisted his wrist, diverting the force. Had he not done so, the point of light would have marked a spot on Rem's head beyond the axe's blade. Rem was skilled in using both sword and axe. He was indeed very proficient. In handling weapons, he was the best among the squad members. This was an acknowledged fact. Encrid pulled the blaze to the side. Crack! The sword blade, which pierced through metal, was withdrawn. Having invested the power of a heavy sword into a moment's acceleration, such force was natural. Though Encrid was about to attack again, in the meantime, Rem had retrieved a sling from his belongings. With a swift whirl over his head, the stone he’d tossed earlier fit snugly into the leather sling pocket. Soon, a buzzing noise echoed in his ears. It was as if showcasing a predetermined play sequence with fluid motion. Rem had predicted up to this point and acted accordingly. Predicting, calculating, and swiftly deciding the direction of the fight by leveraging anticipation—a skill derived from orthodox sword techniques. 'I’ve been hit.' Encrid, trained in the unnamed orthodox sword techniques, realized that his calculations had been outpaced here. Bang! As soon as the sound was heard, the stone was flying towards him. Its speed was incomparable to even the daggers thrown by Zaxen. Faster than the axe that had previously flown at him. The sensation of evasion rang alarm bells. Encrid felt a heat that seemed to set his eyes and mind ablaze. His concentration ignited to an unprecedented degree. Relying entirely on the heightened sense of evasion, he dodged the stone. Using his left foot as a pivot, he flung his body sideways. The stone whizzed by, grazing his hair, and flew backwards. Behind, there was a noise like something crashing and exploding. It sounded as if a boulder had fallen from the sky. Encrid had no time to catch his breath. Although he dodged the stone, he had to leave an opening for the oncoming axe blade. His posture had collapsed. “Hup.” Encrid took a short, sharp breath, and wielded his silver longsword vertically from below, cutting upwards. He used a reverse vertical slash technique from his intermediate sword forms. Then Rem's incoming axe abruptly veered away. ‘Crazy.’ It was a feint. The deception would have fooled even his instinctive senses—it meant Rem was serious up until the moment before attacking. Then came the second stone, which Encrid avoided once more, but nearly got his neck sliced by the axe. Had it been a direct hit, his neck would’ve been half-severed, and he would have been dead. Why was he still alive? He reflexively pulled back his neck, and at the last moment, Rem also withdrew his force. “You might get yourself killed like that.” Rem said, catching his breath a few times. “Then I’d just enjoy it until then.” Encrid replied as he got up from where he had fallen. “Dying during a spar?” Is that what enjoyment is? Rem asked back with a genuinely curious look in his eyes. Encrid answered without a change in expression. “Yeah. It’s exciting.” “Crazy bastard.” Rem couldn't hold back his thoughts but continued the sparring regardless. It was particularly educational for Encrid, as he was constantly learning new things. Especially from Rem, he learned how to handle various weapons. “Do you know the best training method to defend against weapons like axes, spears, maces, and flails?” He didn’t know. He didn’t answer. Rem didn’t wait for a reply. It was a phrase spoken after two weeks of rigorous sparring that felt like dipping one’s feet into the river of death. “Use them yourself.” And that's what Encrid did. For the next two weeks, he tried handling maces, axes, spears, and halberds. Rem wielded all these weapons as skillfully as he did his axe. Encrid's experience had transcended mere competence. He quickly grasped a few key insights and put them into practice. With the right tips, grasping the basics wasn’t difficult. “No way, it’s this slow?” Rem expressed his dissatisfaction without reserve. Following that, sparring and training continued endlessly. Anyway, Encrid found those times immensely valuable. He felt grateful for the opportunity. The moment to apply that valuable experience soon arrived. It was a matter already decided upon. “There’s a creature known as the gray ghoul. It's dangerous.” It was Krys, bustling around with tasks. He brought up the matter. The exact details were about connecting it with the central command for credit on this side, but Encrid didn’t concern himself with such processes. He was just a bit pleased that a real battle opportunity, impossible to experience through mere sparring, had come. It didn’t mean an immediate departure though; finishing current tasks took precedence. The sparring hadn’t ended, for today was the day to duel with Audin. “Hey, wait. I'll finish this first.” It was one day in spring, just starting after the end of winter. Krys couldn’t stop his commander. Nor was there a need to. Taking care of the ghoul wasn't a matter of urgency. Krys waited by the brazier for Encrid and his companions to arrive. Though it was spring, the wind was still chilly. The comforting warmth of the brazier enveloped his body. He felt drowsy. As he waited, Krys pondered that this task was the first step towards the independent development of the Border Guard. There were plenty of reasons to think so. Krys's eyes gradually closed. Even while dozing off, he organized his thoughts in preparation for what he needed to say. * * * The Ferryman gazed at the human tangled and bound to him from beyond the ordinary realm. He saw death. Over and over again, he saw it. It was a desperate scream to die alone, even though there was no barrier keeping him. The man was simply so consumed with training that he neglected to care for his life. Did he do so trusting in today's repetitions? That wasn't it. Just by looking, the Ferryman understood. The man was simply insane. And yet, did he die? No, even in moments when he should have perished, he barely survived. Was it skill or sheer luck? The Ferryman judged it to be skill. The combination of his opponent’s skills and his own managed to bend what seemed a certain death. 'What a strange character.' Today's Ferryman spoke in a lighter tone. He observed his opponent. No more lavish praise would be given. After all, hearing such words only fueled the man to push himself further. So from now on, he would only watch... “Crazy bastard.” Repeating it, the Ferryman continued his remarks, leaving his words in the mind of the briefly unconscious Encrid. It was a form of high praise. Encrid opened his eyes, tilting his head in confusion as he momentarily returned to the mental realm. The Ferryman, having lived for many years, had developed a keen sense of intuition through experience. With just a glance, he read meanings and conveyed his thoughts. Encrid’s eyes carried a question: Aren’t you busy? “Yes, I'm busy!” The Ferryman exclaimed. And the mental realm blurred. In truth, there was nothing pressing to do. Observing was his entire existence. * * * As Encrid opened his eyes, he recalled the last moment. Audin’s fist had swung, striking the side of his head. The flow, the process, and the trajectory were vividly etched in his memory. ‘I was stepping.’ He had initiated evasive maneuvers, but Audin had mirrored his steps. Despite his large build, Audin’s movements were incredibly swift. Normally, such an impact would scatter one’s memory of the moment, but either due to his beastly heart or his efforts to absorb every trace, technique, remnant, and spirit up until the very last moment, he retained every part of it. 'I diverted it right before it hit.' He had channeled the impact through his body. It was a technique he had learned from Audin and had since integrated into his movements. “Inspired by Commander Brother’s Snake Sword,” Audin had explained when introducing his new technique. Encrid felt anew that Audin was a genius. To create and utilize something just from observing his sword. Rem, Zaxen, and Lagna had similarly adopted such approaches. They were all geniuses. This wasn’t a reason for Encrid to feel suddenly deprived. Returning to the barracks after the spar, he found Krys seated by a table, dozing with his arms wrapped around the brazier. Krys seemed sleep-deprived. Esther was also present, quietly observing Encrid. “You’re here?” That was her greeting. “Yeah.” Fluctuating between the form of a leopard and a human, today she appeared human. While she still wore the black robe, today she had a soft, crimson shirt underneath for a change, thanks to Encrid’s suggestion to cover up more. It suited her well. “Oh, you’re back?” Krys awoke to their presence. Because of the sudden duel after just mentioning the grey ghouls, he had taken an unexpected nap, which, though brief, was refreshing. “Ugh, I’ve been overdoing it lately. I could use some rare medicine—hasn’t Zaxen returned?” Zaxen was the one who often procured various medicines for Krys. Some things Krys had reciprocated by obtaining them himself, but for herbs and tonics, Zaxen was the expert. “He’ll come when he does,” Encrid replied genuinely. Krys didn't specifically seek him out. “Well, shall we start the briefing?” Krys suggested, wiping sleep from his eyes. In everything, order and causation were vital. There’s a difference between doing something with knowledge versus without. That was Krys’s perspective. Yet, Rem and his subordinates thought differently. Lagna had been sleeping more frequently lately, while Rem, unconcerned, occupied himself with crafting slings or sharpening weapons Encrid had acquired. Maintaining one’s weapons was a fundamental duty of a warrior. Though he used to handle them quite carelessly in the past. Circumstances had changed now, though. There was an incident where the knight appeared. Even Rem had heard about it. ‘If he appears again, I can't just watch.’ Where Rem hailed from, there were no knights. Instead, there were those known as champions. The term meant brave people. There was always a reason for such titles. Come to think of it, weren't the beastkin's distinguished also called champions? Rem didn't particularly care. What mattered was what to do if a knightly figure appeared. To avoid being easily subdued, what did one need? What Encrid did: training and refining skills. Rem did likewise. He trained fiercely out of the public eye. Naturally, exhaustion accumulated. The past few months had been a relentless push without pause. ‘I’ve never worked this hard in my life.’ Except when he first wielded a weapon, he mused that he might be working even harder than back then. As Encrid's skills improved, opposing him was no easy task. It felt like treading on thin ice every step. Slip-ups either led to defeat or near-death situations. Teaching Encrid how to handle weapons unfamiliar to him reduced the danger somewhat, but being content with just that would be madness. ‘Seriously, crazy human.’ Rem concluded once again, resting as usual. He had just finished soaking in the bath after their session. The warmth from the hot water lingered, turning swiftly into drowsiness. Audin had excused himself for prayer, and Dunbake and Teresa didn’t overly concern themselves either. Esther, from the start, had absolutely no interest whatsoever. Encrid was the only one left, but Krys had anticipated that. Since when did humans ever listen intently to explanations? He directed his words at Encrid alone. At least the captain had the decency to listen, which was a relief. If even he didn't pay attention, then that would be a problem. "Are you aware of the dangers surrounding the Border Guard?" Krys’s speech was lengthy, yet Encrid proved to be an excellent listener. Though long-winded, Krys knew well how to distill his points. The gist was this: There were three areas resembling dangerous magical realms around the Border Guard, and one needed to be dealt with. This place, known as the Land of the Gray Ghoul, lay to the southwest of the Border Guard, forcing trade routes with the western territory to take a detour. “That’s essentially it.” Though Krys knew the political reasons behind why this hadn’t been dealt with until now, he wondered, ‘Would they even care if I told them?’ Encrid already seemed disinterested. “Ghoul?” See there, Encrid only showed interest in the monsters he was to slay. To everyone who sought Encrid until now, Krys gave the same explanation: “We’re preparing for a significant battle next spring. There will be changes in the area, so it’s best to prepare for them.” “What kind of changes?” Once a noble under Earl Molsen came to inquire—naturally, not Rosenberg, who had previously clashed with Encrid. After their altercation, Rosenberg didn't extend any friendly overtures Encrid’s way. Considering these things, Krys found himself impressed with Earl Molsen's fortitude. ‘After all that, he still invites him under his banner.’ Issues had arisen from the Earl’s disregard, not to mention the covert maneuvers. Sending his men to threaten the Border Guard was one example. While concrete evidence was lacking, Krys’s suspicions were clear. He was determined to find evidence if necessary, although denials made such efforts meaningless. “The Border Guard will expand.” He spoke indirectly about preparations that would turn a fortress into a full-fledged domain. Encrid was a key figure for such an endeavor. Did this mean the Border Guard was free to act autonomously? The former lord, Marcus, had once been accused of treason for similar actions. Expanding required permission from central authorities, meaning direct intervention from the royal court. “Tsk.” If a lesser noble were to claim Encrid, it’d be like disgracing the royal court. Having laid out his claims, Krys knew he needed to follow up with proof through action. The first step was eradicating the Gray Ghoul. Though he mixed subtle political dynamics into his explanation, Encrid remained uninterested. Krys finished speaking. What more could he say? Encrid was already filled with thoughts of going out to fight. Yet he wouldn’t recklessly seek danger. Such was the nature of a captain. ‘He’ll handle it.’ A captain has his tasks. Krys had his own duties to focus on—and he was well on his way to fulfilling them.