341 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

341. A Heavy and Swift Sword Rem swung his axe backward, deflecting a spear. Clang! The spear's blade spun into the air. Trolls are indeed monstrous in strength, but Rem is a human of equal might. As Audin ran, he intercepted the spear mid-flight with a whoosh. The spear, flying with great heft, stopped dead in its tracks the moment it met Audin’s hand. For something with such momentum, it was absurdly easy to halt. This was a scene created by an abnormal strength. It seemed as though the laws of physics were being defied. They say power that surpasses limits can appear almost magical. That's true in this case—a strength honed to a ridiculous degree. It meant that when it came to pure strength, Audin surpassed even Rem. The troll brothers had no time to sense anything amiss. "Hahaha!" As Audin laughed and pushed off the ground, a loud boom echoed, causing dirt to erupt like a fountain. Boom, boom, boom! Not just once, but three more times the ground erupted. Audin's body left a lingering trace, forming a long line in the air. His massive frame covered distance at an unbelievable speed. To an ordinary person, it would appear as if he vanished suddenly. This rush was created by intense training of his thigh muscles and mastery over his body control. It was a charge that could rival that of a squire. Encreid thought as much at first glance. Audin advanced, swinging the spear like a cudgel, striking one of the troll’s heads. The troll couldn't dodge this unprecedentedly swift move. And with the addition of Encreid’s "condensed strike" technique. Crack! Bang! It was no wonder that the head shattered, black blood soaring into the sky. The skull and other components of the head scattered in all directions. Blood sprayed from where the spear contacted, spreading diagonally towards the opposite side. Even as darkness began to fall as the sun set, none were hindered by poor night vision. Thus... "Don’t let any escape." Encreid spoke. Dunvachel and Teresa charged forth. Audin laughed as he pummeled another troll. Limbs of the troll—a symbol of regeneration—were torn off, eyes popped and crushed. Encreid had nothing more to do. The five trolls couldn’t even think of fleeing. Even if just one escaped, it would hide away, leading to a game of hide-and-seek that would even be troublesome for Rem. Chasing a creature committed to hiding was a different issue entirely. So they couldn't let them escape. Predictably, they didn’t. Audin tore apart three with unchecked ruthlessness. Of the five, Rem swung his axe to slice one into nine pieces. "What was that?" After slicing it up, Rem spoke to Audin. It was a question wondering why that bear-like fellow was so excited. "Oh, what a fine night. The Lord is watching over us." Audin just responded with laughter. The last troll was left for Dunvachel and Teresa. The two tore, smashed, and split the troll in a contest of sorts. And that was the end. The trolls didn’t even have a chance to showcase their characteristic regenerative ability. Sinard had just been observing. No, he was busy putting out fires. Then he squatted, peering up to ask, "Should I rekindle it?" Encreid checked the sky to estimate the time. Evening had passed, and it was time to discuss the night. If it were dawn, resting would have been appropriate, but was it really necessary? No task requires absolute adherence. Encreid wanted to wash and considered this another training opportunity. More importantly, there was no reason to endure the discomfort of camping. "Let’s head back." If they pushed through the night running, they would reach Border Guard in two days. If they increased their pace, they could arrive by the next night. Was it too much? Such training was essential. After recovering from an injury and taking a rest, he hadn’t exerted himself as much. So it was the perfect chance. Simply running wasn’t enough to overexert the body. This would also serve as excellent training. Thus, through this thought process, resting was postponed until reaching the city. No one had any complaints. * * * The rumor of a group that had taken down three minor demonic zones, specifically two colonies, and five troublesome demons spread quickly around. "I’m at a loss for words." That was the first thing Kreis said upon hearing the news before anyone else. Who wouldn’t be surprised? It wasn’t in a bad sense. The moment Kreis heard of what Encreid had done upon his return, his mind spun rapidly. If such feats were possible. Then extraordinary warriors capable of slaughtering any approaching creature by burning, smashing, cutting, and slicing wouldn’t be in short supply if only asked to step forward. Ah, except for one. Ah, again. With one on vacation, two exceptions need to be made, but still, it was a tremendous force. Rem and Audin stepped up like never before. 'Dunvachel and Teresa were also significant forces.' There was also Esther and Odd-Eye, but they were considered exceptional cases. "I have to go see the lord." Kreis announced. Encreid nodded with a general understanding. You could see the spark of realization in his eyes. He must have seen a way to earn crowns. Encreid then washed, rested, ate and immersed himself again in the art of isolation. The "condensed strike" is a technique that requires the body to support it. It hinged on the compression and explosion of muscles. Once mastered, even the feat he suffered earlier would be possible. After beating the troll to death, Audin, looking more elated than ever, personally demonstrated the technique to Encreid. "If you become proficient, this is also possible." He said this as he approached, holding a hammer in his left hand. The sight was quite intimidating, yet it sparked anticipation, and that anticipation was fulfilled. At a close distance, with his form comparable to a giant, he looked down. Though Encreid was not short himself, their eye levels didn't align. "Watch this." Audin spoke, thrusting a fist and stopping it an inch before Encreid’s abdomen. It was a moment that seemed nonsensical. The sensation of evasion kicked in. There was no time to evade. Instinctively, Encreid tensed his abs. Boom! A burst of sound—more precisely, the sound of an explosion before him—flung Encreid into the air. His feet left the ground, and he felt a momentary sensation of flight before landing a few steps back. However, he didn't tumble clumsily. He maintained his balance. Being pounded by a hammer all this time hadn't been for nothing. His resilience had significantly increased. "What is this?" "It's the 'Condensed Strike.'" Encreid looked down. The dry earth of the training ground bore clear marks. The ground was deeply imprinted and twisted, as if a small vortex had formed there. 'Rotation of the ankle.' The compression and explosion of all muscles in the body. It displays destructive power just inches away, encapsulating everything into it. A fearsome yet fascinating skill. "Not bad." Encreid praised earnestly before immersing himself once again. His body and mind were fully occupied. After all, he wasn't just learning the "Condensed Strike." Audin still hammered him all over with a literal hammer, sparing only the head, hitting any place with muscle uniformly. Afterward, he roughly grasped Dunvachel’s whole-body flexible swordsmanship. He fetched a shield from the forge and paired with Teresa, learning how to wield various weapons from Rem. "Will learning all these different things really help you?" Rem asked. While some might argue that depth in learning something is important, that saying doesn’t seem to apply to this mad fellow. In other words, he already knew the answer when he asked. "It does." A succinct reply. Encreid found his path through the domain of experience and intuition. Is this the path to knighthood? He didn’t know. Regardless, one thought persisted: ‘This is maddening.’ He was captivated by joy and fun. Ecstasy filled his body as he learned and mastered new things at an astonishing pace. "The boss's body seems a bit dumb. I mean, you manage to do everything like the Will, yet you struggle with this?" Even Rem's sarcasm crept in, but it was fine. Comparatively, his current growth was unbelievably rapid. Laguna gazed at this with languid eyes from a distance. It's not that his motivation vanished. Rather, having seen the sword of a knight and recognizing the path he must traverse, he simply did what he needed to do. It was time for organization and arrangement. Collect what he had and calmly consolidate and prepare it. Laguna had wandered the continent for a long time. Half of that time was unintentional, having lost his way, but he encountered many people along the journey. They demonstrated a variety of skills, each in their own manner. Mercenaries or warriors from trade guilds did so. Laguna was a genius, and he quickly grasped and mastered their techniques. After seeing something once, he could replicate it, and with a couple of repetitions, he rose to the original user's level, surpassing them in less than two days. “Devil… Such devilish talent.” He even heard such remarks from a bodyguard of a guild. From that, Laguna understood his distinction from ordinary people. The question arose: ‘Should I move forward?’ None around him could catch up if he pushed ahead. Was there any value in pursuing such a path? Doubt clouded him. That doubt corroded Laguna's spirit. Thus, he ceased advancing from a certain point. Even with regained motivation, he only focused on refining what he'd learned over the years. A turning point was necessary, and that came during his combat with the squire Ayah. Through that, he broke past his limits. How was this possible? Because what had once gnawed at his spirit disappeared. “When will you stop playing? Let’s spar.” Yes, it was because of this person. Encreid said this, wagging his sword from the front. Laguna nodded. His mind was clear, and the refinement of the myriad skills etched onto his body had concluded. Having begun forging his own path like the man before him. Thus, the birth of the Laguna style of swordsmanship took place. Rather than being confined within the box of orthodox swordsmanship, Laguna had paved a new path. “It’s a heavy and swift sword.” Simultaneously, Encreid recalled the knight’s sword. In an instant, it seemed to fold space as it vanished and reappeared. There was a different kind of speed. The heaviness was distinct as well. At the moment when Encreid raised his sword horizontally to block—thud!—a thunderous sound reverberated through his body. 'Is it a cleaving strike?' Not the same as the "Condensed Strike," yet possessing similar power. He attempts to integrate techniques merely by observing them, adapting them to suit his own style. The mark of a genius. “You crazy bastard.” Rem laughed as he watched and picked up an axe. “Now, I can finally beat your ass.” As Encreid retreated from the first strike, Laguna slyly remarked this to Rem. “What’s that lazy bum yapping about?” “I meant I can beat you senseless without killing you now. Have trouble understanding? Want me to show you with gestures?” “Fine. Let's see, meet your end.” Soon, Laguna and Rem clashed. Encreid didn’t feel the need to intervene. This fight was unlike their previous ones. Rem was being pushed back. Laguna had transcended a certain threshold. Not that Rem was just being overpowered. Encreid watched the spar intently. There was so much to learn. Things unseen before now lay visible. A heavy and swift sword, Laguna’s technique lived up to his words. It seemed light yet it clashed against the axe with an incredible weight. Bang! The explosive sounds continued, drawing the attention of nearby soldiers. Some were surprised, yet others, while surprised, seemed to accept it as an ordinary occurrence. For the squad of madmen was no ordinary group. Watching their duel gave Encreid chills, filling him with ecstatic exhilaration. He couldn’t resist. “Will you just watch?” Encreid slid Sinard into the mix, who had approached at some point. With a delicate grace hidden within her sword, he wished to observe and learn through sparring. “You greedy fiancé, what will you give me in return if I offer this?” Excluding marriage proposals, anything. “A date perhaps?” The faerie asked, and Encreid could no longer contain his longing. “Let’s do it.” A date in exchange for swordsmanship. It was a ludicrous proposition, yet satisfying for both Encreid and Sinard. * * * “Are you planning to raid the marshland?” The butler bowed his head as he reported to Count Molsen. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't expect them to move so quickly." It was the Count himself who had scattered monsters in the marshland. He used bell wasps and blood-sucking flies to prevent people from approaching, and conducted some magical experiments there. It was also a convenient place to gather rare magical herbs and ingredients. The Count knew that the Encreid fellow had left the city to target the Grey Ghoul Forest. Intelligence gathering wasn't for nothing. Even if the Frog were running amok, surely, they would gather some information. And so he knew. “They've even taken out five trolls.” “What are these people?” The Count was baffled. Do they ever sleep? The terrain was too rugged for carriages to pass through. Did they run through paths that weren't paved? The absurdity left him speechless for a moment. Though he felt a pang of discomfort, he quickly discarded it. ‘It’s simply unbelievable.’ It was too late to make a move. He couldn't admit to unleashing the monsters, could he? Anyway, once he achieved what he sought, none of this would matter. “A guild aiming to reclaim the kingdom's language has infiltrated the territory.” “Deal with them.” “There are a few troublesome mercenaries involved.” This meant they couldn’t handle it with just the territory's security forces. The Count erased the mad squad from his mind. Once his thoughts cleared, an answer emerged. “Send Mats.” “Yes.” The butler bowed again. The Count sat in silence, pondering. He wasn't fully prepared yet, so he would have to wait. But how long should he wait? At most, a year or two. Is the urge to ascend inherent in human nature, or is it the desire instilled from being born and raised to wield power? He didn’t know. He’d find out when he climbed there. Until then, he didn’t care to know. His current ignorance would offer him the pleasure of discovery through future experiences. Until that time, ‘Will they still be alive?’ The madmen squad, Encreid. What an unusual individual. Quite impressive. So, by then, they should not stand against him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to keep them alive. The Count hoped to keep him around. It was rare for someone to spark such interest in him.