338 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

**Chapter 338** The essence of quick reflexes with the fourth sword can be likened to the acceleration of thought. It involves absorbing the information surrounding you and then selecting the most efficient and rational actions. During this process, distinguishing between necessary and unnecessary information is an exercise in discernment. As thought quickens, the capacity to visualize the shape of the battle becomes unparalleled. Encrid found a greater thrill in this aspect than in mastering other sword techniques. Even when the sword, bending like a snake, parries softly, it is crucial for the blade to remain sharp. Enter the fluid sword, the art of deflection. The true essence of this swordplay lies in the counteraction; it has significance only when this skill is mastered. Learning this brought immense joy as well. What about the thunderbolt thrust? How could the process of obtaining the will to accelerate 'in an instant’ not be exhilarating? The joy of learning is a gift in itself. The same applies to the crushing sword. It began with enduring a knight's blade and was honed through Ragnar's questioning. How does one cleave a thunderbolt? The answer lies in the realization: anticipate and evade the strike before it descends. In other words, thrust your sword before the opponent does. This way, your thrusting sword becomes a lightning rod. You can't slice through a thunderbolt, but you can deflect it. This was proven through action. For the knight's sword was as fearsome as any natural cataclysm. The processes of acquiring the techniques—snake, thunderbolt, and crush—were distinct in their paths, yet the elation they brought was remarkably similar. All were crafted with a singular purpose, skills ingrained into the body. In contrast, the fourth style, the precise and measured sword known as the 'Capturing Sword,' was somewhat different. "The fusion of technique is possible." Calculation and reasoning sparked anew, keener concentration than ever before bubbling up. While the prior three swordplays left discrete punctuations, the new sword derived from the precise style drew a continuous line. Hidden motives became visible amidst the throng of advancing ghouls. With extreme focus infused into the precise style, it felt as though the future unfolded before him, step-by-step. To counter what you see, employ the serpent's flickering blade. To control the situation, the crushing sword serves well. To shatter an opponent's intent from the onset, thrust first. “Ah.” Encrid marveled inwardly. The capturing sword is one where meticulous calculation closely follows. Layering technique atop it became natural. Despite having invented the capturing sword, there was an unfulfilled gap. Now he knew what was lacking. "Recognizing what you lack is the key to improvement." He recalled the advice of a mercenary. Encrid did just that—recognized, observed. What was missing? Having defined the form, an essence was needed to fill it. For the snake sword, it was the supple deflection. The thunderbolt thrust required the entire body's readiness, from feet to fingertips, for a singular puncture. The crushing sword was imbued with 'overwhelming pressure' to fill its core. Likewise, the precise capturing sword needed something of essence. The core necessity didn't have to stem from another swordplay. Nor did it have to incorporate an entirely new technique. The key was that something essential was needed. 'Yes, that's it.' Realizing it brought joy. Joy filled his being with a profound sense of elation. If this wasn't exhilarating, what could possibly be? Under a night sky devoid of starlight, he swung his sword to glimpse that very light. Despite countless nights passing without seeing the light, Encrid knew no fatigue. He simply swung his sword, without pause, treading a path that wasn't one, unseeing yet unwavering. He walked and continued to walk. Forgetting fatigue, he walked. Thus he swung his sword. How was it when that curse of 'today' was bestowed upon him? There was little need to verbally defy the coxswain's lament of despair. He harbored no fear of living today's life anew. Once more, he swung his sword. And with this, how could he not feel exhilarated? Now, starlight shone upon him; the path unfolded, and realization struck without repeating the days. The sheer delight overwhelmed him. "Oh, he's in high spirits." "At least he's not drooling, thank goodness, brother." "Wanderer Theresa offers her assistance." "What is there to assist with? There seems no opening at all." The exchange began with Rem and progressed to comments from those behind him. Only Sinar remained silent, engrossed in watching. For that man's sword was transforming in real-time. The fairy's keen senses detected every minute change with remarkable sensitivity. In fact, as each change was perceived, Sinar heightened his own attunement. Of course, from the sidelines, none of this could be gleaned. To observers, he merely appeared to be watching intently. Sinar, leveraging the fairy's sense of perception and learning, absorbed everything. Encrid discarded the unnecessary chatter manifesting around him. Listening to their words was not presently essential. They were not a part of the selection process. Instead, the sound of ghouls’ footsteps mattered at this moment, in the now. And so, Encrid did just that. He filtered the audible inputs, selectively identifying what was necessary to perceive. Thunk! Thud, thump! The sound of feet striking the ground as they leaped. Snap, crack, crunch. Branches bending and breaking. Groan! A ghoul's characteristic guttural noise, as if vomiting. Researchers who studied monsters stated that the ghoul's peculiar wailing was due to stomach acid that seared its insides. Only human flesh could quell that burning acid. Hence, the ghouls turned to cannibalism. There are beasts attracted to human flesh, but others are simply born with such a predilection, or so it's said. This wasn't relevant information now. Briefly acknowledged and discarded. The accelerated mind incorporated something new. An ominous aura mingled among the cacophony of ghouls obstructing his path. Unlike others, that aura was silent. The being moved stealthily, positioning itself on a hefty branch above Encrid’s head. A slight sag of the branch went unnoticed as a first instinct would not be to attend to anything overhead with the ghouls charging head-on. In his right hand, Encrid grasped a silver longsword; in his left, a spark. He then filled the capturing sword with its necessary essence. Swish, thud, swoosh, stab, swing, crack, rustle, thud. A rhythm. The blade danced precisely to the beat. The silver longsword slashed, severed, and cleaved. The spark darted and withdrew. The two swords sang to a single rhythm. The capturing sword enshrined the beat as its core and ensnared its foes within its tempo. Within this rhythm, the ghouls were mere moths rushing to their deaths. “Oh.” A small gasp escaped Rem's lips. Meanwhile, Dunbakel subtly raised her head. There was something that rang an alarm within her instincts. Though Audin and Rem didn't look up, Dunbakel's gesture prompted even Theresa to tilt her head halfway up. Was there something up there? Theresa, too, felt an unsettling sensation. Encrid seemed entirely engrossed in wielding his dual swords. A succession of rhythmic sounds and discordant noises rippled through the air, almost compelling one to find the beat. “Above...” Theresa's voice burst forth unwittingly but halted abruptly. Swish—a shadow fell swiftly from above. It was a creature half the size of an average ghoul. With a grayish body like its kin, but its right arm was unnaturally long, and the claws attached were nearly twice as elongated and pointed. Four spires akin to daggers extended from it. But as quickly as the sight was registered, it vanished. The creature lunged, leaving behind a blur as its dagger-like claws descended. From the branch above, it swooped down, and Encrid adjusted his silver longsword with precision—a fraction of a beat faster than usual, swinging it vertically. He crafted a vertical circle with his sword, pivoting on his own head. Squelch! The blade sliced through the unique ghoul, cutting it slantwise. A silver line traversed from its head, through its torso, and down to its groin. As Encrid slashed, he sidestepped, executing even the ground-pushing stance within the rhythm's framework. The thud of his feet hitting and leaving the ground resonated perfectly in time. 'He already knew,' Theresa closed her mouth. He was ahead of her. Now that she thought about it, Rem and Audin seemed aware too, and it was evident that their leader knew as well. Thus, she remained silent. Encrid didn't disregard himself, nor did he swing mindlessly with reckless abandon. He calculated incessantly, yet realized anew that he didn't need to confine himself solely to calculations. 'What if calculations fail?' He could trust his instincts. For he possessed the weapons worthy of that assurance. Sensing evasion, he layered his intent upon it. Over twenty ghouls surged forward, and the ambush from above was indeed a perilous dagger. Had it been an ordinary soldier, death would have been certain. For ghouls to employ such diversionary tactics, while ordinary individuals might have succumbed, neither Encrid nor his companions were ordinary by any measure. Observing Encrid’s battle revealed much. “I can’t stand it!” Dunbakel erupted first. Gifted with the beastly sharp sense of smell, she sniffed out the hidden ghouls within the forest. She burst out to Encrid’s left side. “Is no one going to stop her?” Theresa questioned, her calm tone belied with a hint of urgency. Encrid spoke as he split the final ghoul’s head with a sword swing deliberately slowed by two beats. Thunk, the cranium was sent flying skyward. “What do you mean?” Encrid’s voice reached her. “Dunbakel is taking the initiative.” “You expected to just watch?” It was a misunderstanding. She believed Encrid intended to claim all the prey for himself, having thought his words meant every ghoul was his hunt, but that wasn’t it. Encrid was merely reveling in the excitement. He was overflowing with satisfaction. So what if Dunbakel was acting unpredictably? It mattered not; it didn't interfere with his enjoyment. “Incoming.” Sinar stated. The fairy’s senses were keen even amidst the ominous forest. He sensed enemies before Encrid did. In terms of scouting ability alone, he was unparalleled against Rem and others. “Then.” Even Theresa stepped forward. Seeing others act, her blood boiled, making it hard to hold back. Was this the blood of the mixed giant, or was it a testament to her identity as Theresa? Answers eluded her at that moment. So she dismissed it. When a massive tree blocked her sight, she swung her sword decisively. Whack. Crack! Her sword embedded itself midway through the tree. Theresa found the tree more solid than anticipated. Beyond just any ordinary chunk of wood, its compacted density felt notable. Thus, she applied more strength. “Hah.” With a shout, she exerted all her might, her arm muscles swelling audibly as they sliced the tree in two. As the tree began its perilous tilt forward, Theresa bashed it like a shield. Bang! With a thunderous crash, the tree three times her size altered its trajectory to collapse forward. Towards the oncoming ghouls. “May the Lord take mercy upon you.” Watching the falling tree, Theresa intoned a prayer. “Grant them reflection under God’s grace.” Audin picked up her words with satisfaction. He found pleasure in the prayers she recited. Theresa did not conceal her fervor, looking towards Encrid, a fierce smile revealing her fanged canines—a physical manifestation of her mixed giant heritage. Her canines were notably sharp. She spun her arms like windmills thereafter. The sword and shield in Theresa's hands slashed, smashed, and split the charging ghouls. “Hahahaha!” Her laughter reverberated loudly through the forest. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a stealth mission?” “If that gray ghoul hears that laughter and comes for us, lucky us. If it scampers away, even better.” Encrid responded to Rem’s comment. It was true. If it came out to face them, the search time would be reduced. And if it fled, they'd avoid fighting on its preferred terrain. Either outcome was favorable. "Yeah, that's smart thinking." Rem nodded. There's a difference between disliking brainy tasks and being foolish. Rem understood Encrid’s reasoning well. “The captain's desire won’t be fulfilled just yet.” Audin laughed gently as he spoke from the back, as he usually did. He too was right. Where Dunbakel had charged, numerous long-clawed assassin ghouls awaited. On the side where Theresa matched her opponents, there was a ghoul that was half again larger than the others. These creatures, with their grayish flesh, were much sturdier than typical ghouls. 'It usually takes two or three spearmen to handle one regular ghoul.' Yet the ones inhabiting this forest were more challenging. Reflecting on their earlier diversion tactics, even well-trained troops would have had to brace for significant damage. While Encrid and his party were not a knightly order, their combat prowess was near equivalent, allowing them to fight so effectively. "It keeps things from getting boring," Encrid commented. Rem nodded in agreement. "You're right on that." Feeling restless, Rem joined in on the action. Whiiir! He pulled out a sling, whirling it above his head. Soon, ghouls hiding in ambush for the right moment to strike emerged—those that could be considered commanders and even a few unique ones with yellow eyes—but it was all for naught. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The stones that landed on the ground served as both Rem's weapon and his personal marvel. About three slings broke, and the pebble projectiles smashed the ghouls' heads without mercy. Encrid continued his stride. Yet a subtle unease crept over him. 'A trap?' It was a hunch, but it felt likely. Just then, Sinar approached him from the side. "Bad feeling, my betrothed." Why does he never forget to use that title? Encrid thought as he responded. "It's this way." The fairy’s intuition and his own instinct pointed to the same location. There, the hideous ghoul rumored to rule this area likely resided. Encrid's steps led in that direction. He could almost discern his opponent's subtle intentions. 'They're making way.' The intent was subtle, but their goals were clear. Looked at keenly, it all came into view. Instead of highly dangerous ghouls, there were the so-called ordinary ghouls. Even these required at least five or six ordinary spearmen to deal with, boasting tough skin and agile movements, yet they were considerably weaker in comparison. It felt like the entire swarm was herding them in that direction. They were purposely clearing a path. Almost like they were coaxing them to proceed. "How ridiculous. Really." Rem muttered from behind, having deciphered their ploy as well. "It seems the ghoul brothers are eager to meet the Lord Father," Audin quietly declared their fate. Encrid, without a word, continued forward. Before long, they arrived at their destination. It was a clearing where the enemy's intent was blatantly apparent. More than a hundred pairs of yellow eyes encircled the area, standing as evidence.