365 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 365: Only a Dot Remains Visible Enkried had several reasons for visiting the capital, one of which was quite compelling. "Is there a chance to face off with the Masked Knight Order?" The threats posed by monsters and beasts did more than advance culinary and construction techniques. It also gathered those skilled in combat within the city walls. This was essential for both survival and defense. Among those who gathered, knights were considered the pinnacle, and thus, the knight order of the capital stood as a symbol of power. When it came to categorizing individuals as city-level, nation-level, or even continent-level, it always started with the knights. The term 'squire-level' first emerged because of them. It was all based on the presence of the knight order. The Marquis conducted a thorough investigation on Enkried. He had a good grasp of his opponent's preferences. What held greater value for Enkried than wealth, women, status, or power? By delving into his past, understanding his journey, and knowing his motives, one could grasp the essence of a person. That's the approach the Marquis took. "If I present myself as a gift, what does that mean?" As Aisia entered the mansion, she posed the question, and Enkried seemed to notice the Marquis smiling behind her. Standing on one side of the training field, Aisia had a sword strapped to her side, simply armored. 'Cunning serpent.' Andrew once described the Marquis as a human possessing the guts of a Hydra, having swallowed dozens of cunning serpents. A perfectly apt portrayal. An enigmatic figure. Was he aligned with the Queen, Krang, Count Molsen, Viscount Merne, or was he plotting to establish a new faction? No one knew. He was simply in the capital as the Marquis of Okto, a person with power that couldn't be ignored, making him someone even the Queen couldn't recklessly confront. Currently, in the kingdom, there were no grand dukes, nor anyone with a ducal title, and so, the Marquis of Baisar shared national power with him. Would such a Marquis support Krang? The emergence of a new grand duke, which hadn't occurred in the past, would undoubtedly affect his power. For that reason, it was heard that the Marquis of Baisar wasn't fond of Krang either. These were words directly from Marcus. And yet, despite being obviously on Krang's side, the Marquis personally visited, engaged in conversation, and even requested assistance. An unfathomable person, with motives and actions unclear. But setting all that aside for now... "It's not something you need to worry about." Enkried felt a sense of joy. Standing before him was one of the opponents he'd longed to meet, someone he wished to coax into a duel. "Feel free to speak casually." Aisia nodded, speaking in the same manner as before. She had a gentle face and short hair. Her orange hair was brushed up with her own hand as she gazed intently at Enkried. It was astonishing and bewildering. The very fact that the author stood before her was incredible. At the Border Guard, at Marcus's request, a sort of skill test took place. The memory of Enkried fainting under pressure was still vivid in her mind. 'The Luagar Family did mention he was different.' Aisia trusted her instincts more. Believing in personal experience over others' words was natural, especially for someone striving to become a knight, one who must instill conviction in her own journey. From her perspective, Enkried's talent was only at the 'squire level' at best. In her assessment, he was unlikely to advance beyond that point. And yet, here stood Enkried, renowned and confidently making eye contact. 'How did he do it?' What did he do to achieve such feats? A sense of competitive spirit began to rise. She wished to gauge the opponent's skills. She was there for work, but as soon as she saw him, she realized. She hadn't reached the rank of a squire within the knight order by mere chance. Becoming a squire wasn't easy without an obsession with combat and mastering the weapon that suited her best. Enkried, reading her eyes, paused what he was doing to face her. "Do it again." Speaking casually, as suggested. His straightforward attitude was to her liking. "What?" She asked back. "Your intimidation." "You might foam at the mouth." "Do it." This time, there were no support troops or subordinates glaring at him from behind, unlike the last time when she exerted pressure. Andrew Gardner didn't even register in her mind. What was concerning were the subordinates from before, yet they too were absent. Aisia summoned her intimidation. Pivoting on her foot, she adjusted her stance, placing her hand on the hilt of her sword. Intimidation is a technique that suppresses the opponent's will through sheer determination. 'Kneel or face death.' Enkried felt the killing intent mixed within the intimidation. A metaphorical sword flew towards him. Enkried knew it wasn't real. The Enkried who used to close his eyes at the sight of a sword and succumb to intimidation no longer existed. An innate will rose within him, pushing the intimidation away. Enkried took a step closer to Aisia. Her pupils widened. She had heard rumors, but only by witnessing it firsthand did she believe. He was the genuine article. What Luagarne had claimed was correct. Her own judgment, based on experience, had been off. He had not overly burdened his body to endure; he had parried with sheer will. "Sparring?" Enkried asked. "Absolutely!" Aisia replied enthusiastically. Shing! The slender and straight rapier from her waist was drawn. Holding the sword vertically before her face, Aisia spoke. "You don't think intimidation is my only specialty, do you?" "If you dislike losing, you better be serious." Enkried countered. A deft provocation. Aisia smiled brightly. It seemed to say she'd definitely teach him a lesson. Enkried found her change in expression quite satisfying. While she drew and adjusted her sword, Enkried also fixed his sword belt, adjusting his grip to a tighter hold. With a simple shift of his left foot, Enkried casually dropped his arm, entering a state of 'readiness' just before the fight. A duel right after arriving. The discussion about work was irrelevant now; none of that mattered. From the very beginning, Aisia was serious. There was no need for tentative probing between them. Both were at the squire level of knights, possessing a significant degree of martial prowess. The ability to withstand intimidation alone attested to that. "I'm not sure how many types of will you can use, but expect something interesting," Aisia said, lowering her vertically extended sword to point towards Enkried. Enkried instinctively measured the distance. Five steps. Despite holding the sword in a stance directed forward, it felt as if the sword's point was right in front of his nose. Enkried stepped aside, changing his position to stand with the sun at his back. Aisia, without moving her feet, pivoted on her left foot, only shifting the direction of her sword. The point of the sword remained constantly in front of Enkried's eyes. Initially, he looked directly at Aisia. But then, he shifted his gaze to focus on her shoulders, the center of her body. A single-point concentration naturally activated. She was a genuine squire of the knight order. He didn't assume that just because he had once received a knight's sword, he could easily overpower her. With the heart of a beast, full of audacity. Focusing his gaze solely on the opponent through intense concentration. Bolstering his senses to prepare for anything. He was full of thoughts of seizing the initiative. However, as Enkried continued to focus on Aisia's shoulder, his field of vision began to narrow. His view of her entire body contracted to her shoulder and hand, and then limited to the rapier and the hand holding it. Eventually, only the blade of the rapier was visible. A little more time passed, and his focus tightened, narrowing onto just the tip of the rapier. In the end, all he could see was a dot. Yet that dot seemed so large it filled his entire vision. Logically, he understood. The opponent was merely standing, holding a sword. But. 'I can't gauge the distance.' The distance of five steps had vanished. The sword's point appeared merely as a dot. Entirely, only a dot remained. There was no intimidation. No pressure. Naturally, the power of refusal didn't activate. There was simply the end of the sword. Enkried couldn't even attempt to find an opening in the opponent's defense. How could he, when he could see nothing but the dot? The more intense his concentration grew, the larger the dot projected by the opponent became. "What is he doing?" Andrew, watching from the sidelines, was bewildered. After being urged to try something and stepping forward, they abruptly decided to duel. Then, after drawing swords and aiming, they stopped. Enkried appeared to have adjusted his footing and measured the distance, but now both had stopped. 'Are they not going to fight?' He had expected to witness a high-level duel, but a considerable time had already passed. 'Should I say something?' "Leave it." Just as those thoughts formed, Rem, who had approached without Andrew noticing, placed a hand on his shoulder and said. Feeling Rem's grip on his shoulder and neck, Andrew's body froze. "If you interrupt now, that blade will come flying at you." Saying this, Rem pulled him back. Andrew quietly complied. Rem wasn't the only one who came out. Ragna, Saxon, and Dunbakel also emerged. Their gazes focused intently on the center of the training ground. Sweat began to bead on Enkried's forehead. Aisia wasn't entirely composed either. The opponent's presence was fierce and feral. Any slight opening would see him erupting forth like a volcanic explosion. If it erupted, maintaining her current advantage would prove difficult. Leonesis divided swordsmanship into five techniques: upright, deceptive, heavy, flowing, and swift, each with strengths and weaknesses identified, creating a cycle of interactions. Upright swords were weak against deceptive ones. Their tactic to confine the opponent within their intent made the upright swords vulnerable to deception. Deceptive swords were weak against heavy swords. Deceptive swords, reliant on trickery, faltered against steadfast attacks. A straightforward, weighty strike was the heavy sword's forte. Heavy swords were caught by flowing swords. Their steadfastness often caused them to miss the mark, caught in the current. Flowing swords struggled against swift ones. The rapidity of an attack, before a parry could even begin, left no room for defensive actions. Finally, swift swords were vulnerable to upright ones. When caught within expectations, the power of speed diminished, making them susceptible to upright swords. A righteous blade against a deceitful one. A deceitful blade against a heavy one. A heavy blade against a flowing one. A flowing blade against a swift one. A swift blade against a righteous one, and so on. Of course, being a swift blade doesn't guarantee superiority over an upright one, nor does being an upright one guarantee subjugation to a deceitful blade. Everything changes with the level of training, and the outcome of a fight is never straightforward. One could still perish fighting an opponent of much inferior skill. It's an age-old adage. Swords do not rely on sight. If struck by a blind sword, anyone can perish. Death is unbiased. To escape such fairness, humans sought to transcend their limits. That was 'Will.' The embodiment of determination, and knights were the ultimate expression of that determination. Aisia wielded a deceptive sword technique. It was a counter-strike technique that used the opponent's focus against them. Upon recognizing Aisia's technique, Rem, Saxon, and Ragna each conjured ways to counter it. They were geniuses, naturally. Of course, facing her directly, Aisia would employ her own variations, making the outcome uncertain without actual engagement. Dunbakel couldn't instantly grasp the opponent's technique but knew what he could do. 'Strike before they draw.' Enkried couldn't immediately discern Aisia's technique. Yet, he had steadily constructed his own path, brick by brick. It became his personal swordsmanship. Whether dots or lines appeared, what did it matter? If he couldn't break through, he would shatter it here. Determining that time was not in his favor, at that moment, Enkried moved his hand. Ssshit! The sound of the drawing sword was peculiar, executed with such speed and smoothness that it minimized friction. It was the result of persistent training. The 'Will of the Moment.' What he drew was an ember. The spark turned into a white streak, striking the dot. Clang! The sound of metal meeting rang out. As soon as something touched the tip of her sword, Aisia explosively contracted her entire body's muscles. Whoosh! Her sword rebounded faster than it had been struck and flew towards Enkried's neck. Though it seemed like blood would soon gush out with a swoosh—no such thing happened. Enkried narrowly evaded, leaning his neck back just in time. Aisia halted there. Continuing any further would turn this into a deadly battle. For a first sparring session, it had already been quite intense. It was questionable whether this could even be called a spar. Within the knight order, if real swords were used like this, it would usually provoke anger. Asking if the intent was to kill. Yet... "Another round?" Enkried's eyes sparkled. A subtle smile formed on his face, one of genuine delight. He looked utterly thrilled. Didn't he just have a near-death experience? And yet, he wore such an expression? No matter how brave someone might be, or how much they enjoyed the encounter, surviving a near-death moment typically invites at least some negativity. But Enkried showed not even a trace of resentment, complaint, or any negative emotions, not even a speck. "Huh?" Aisia found herself baffled. She was encountering someone truly unique for the first time. "If you're tired, we can take a break and go again later." There was reaction from those observing behind them. "He's at it again." "It's a disease." "Hmm." The comments came in succession from Rem, Ragna, and Saxon. Dunbakel remained silent. She wasn’t confident she could block the sword Aisia had just demonstrated. It's not the speed that’s frightening. If it were simply about speed, Enkried's sword would be even more formidable. So it wasn't Aisia's swiftness that was unsettling. It was the way she disrupted timing. ‘The rhythm breaks.’ Even without realizing it, Dunbakel had been drawn in and closely observed. Aisia's sword inserted itself perfectly into unavoidable pauses in one’s breathing rhythm. If it had been directed at her, her neck would have been slashed. Granted, she wouldn't have engaged Aisia in combat the way Enkried did to begin with. She would have retreated at the first opportunity. Put some distance, and then restarted. 'Would that make victory possible?' That seemed unlikely. Frustrated by this realization, Dunbakel let out a sharp exhale. "You seem a bit odd," Aisia finally remarked to Enkried. "And look who's smiling now," Enkried replied. It was true. Aisia, too, felt a rare thrill and excitement. It was a type of enjoyment she hadn't felt in years. "Don't you have breakfast? I came on an empty stomach," Aisia said. "Andrew?" Enkried called out to the owner of the house. Andrew nodded. They were people who never missed a meal, so breakfast would surely be well prepared.