375 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

**Chapter 375: Aisia** Why is Aisia here? As soon as Encrid saw her, several facts popped into his mind. He didn't need to overthink; they emerged on their own. "The Constable." Why had she come to him? Although jealousy played a part, the primary reason was she saw this as the right opportunity. They believed he was guilty. The guilt they assumed lay in the killing of Baron Vandra. Aisia could have been a witness to this, potentially preventing it if she had intervened. Yet it happened. "Aisia didn’t stop it." There was an intervention from the Marquis of Octo in Aisia's arrival here. So whose side was the Marquis of Octo on? Or had the Order of Knights turned against him? Could that be possible? Aisia had mentioned that only a few junior knights remained in the capital. A flurry of complex thoughts piled up like a tangled ball of yarn played with by children. Encrid resolutely cut through it. He couldn't afford to act like Crys. There was no need. The person with the answers was right before him, ready to be questioned. "Why?" Encrid's words were few but carried weight. Aisia lifted her sword. The thin, straight blade stood at the divide between light and darkness. She answered. "It's up to here. Turn back." Her eyes were devoid of emotion. She might as well have been a single sword standing before him. The sound of clashing metal and distant shouts faded away. They seemed like two actors meeting on a stage called a corridor. Encrid unsheathed his sword, Silver. *Screech.* The unnervingly sharp sound of the blade drew out from its metal-bound scabbard. The silver longsword emerged as if proud of itself. Encrid tightened his grip on the hilt with both hands, calming his breath. For him, the light seeped through the left window; for Aisia, it was the right. The sunlight streaming between them drew a long line, splitting Encrid and Aisia apart. "Stand down." Aisia said again. Please. It sounded like that. "Why?" He asked, thinking. Obviously, there was no answer. He lacked information. Aisia seemed unlikely to provide a straightforward response. Without a hint of a smile, she just observed him. Aisia showed no intent to kill or aggression. She merely stood guard like an inanimate object. To one side of the hallway stood rare ceramics, said to be found only in the south. Like those artifacts, she appeared emotionless, like a still life. Encrid adjusted his grip on the sword. Noticing this, Aisia spoke. "You're drinking your punishment." "It's a hobby." Encrid responded habitually. Yet even at those words, Aisia’s expression remained unchanged. Her demeanor shifted instead, becoming oppressive. Simultaneously, the aura changed. In Encrid's eyes, it seemed like a wall appeared around Aisia, blocking his path. The presence she exuded wasn't just the will to cut down anything that approached; it was the solid resolve to never back down. An infinitely solid wall. Impossible to see through, indestructible as if constructed of steel. Yet, Encrid was the sort of person who delighted in scaling such walls or digging through them. *Ting.* Encrid extended his sword sideways, measuring the distance to the wall. The tip of Silver struck the right wall. Retrieving it, he gripped the hilt with both hands, raising it overhead. Though the width fell short, the height left nothing wanting. If they fought now, paintings on the walls, southern ceramics, and expensive vases would be shattered. But it wasn’t the time to worry about such things. Encrid steadied his breath once more. The opponent was reading his breathing. Neither Aisia nor Encrid swung their swords first. Instead, they gauged timing through observing each other's breathing. They had done this countless times before—sparring more than twenty times. The line of light that split between them stretched longer. Three crossed swords hung on the right central wall, the focal point being Aisia and Encrid. Above them hung a decorative shield resembling the shape of a sun. The sword positioned centrally among the three hung perpendicularly to the ground, with its tip closest to the floor. As the light grew longer, it inevitably touched the central blade tip. Though unsharpened, the well-polished blade gleamed, reflecting light. The moment it sparkled, Encrid sprang into motion. *Bang!* There was no room for reservation or leisure. He dashed forward explosively, putting his full strength into slashing his sword downward. As Encrid approached, Aisia reacted. Her sword thrust forward. Faster than any arrow, her stab. Encrid continued his downward swing. The blades of Aisia's sword and Encrid's Silver met. *Clang! Cr-crack!* Encrid forcefully struck down, attempting to break through, while Aisia twisted her wrist, diverting the descending path of Silver. A masterful deflection dispelled Encrid's power. Unwilling to simply endure this, Encrid stepped back, conserving his energy. He let his sword flow with the motion. Always prepared to counterattack with renewed force at any moment. This left a long line beneath the left window. Even with its striking resemblance to lightning, he was deflected. Aisia immediately raised her sword, aiming it slowly at Encrid. The tip pointed, her specialty and strength. But it also differed from what Encrid knew. Hadn't Rem already advised him? "That won’t be the entirety." Instinctively he knew it. No, the combination of extensive battles and innate talent allowed him to glimpse something beyond what Aisia possessed. An area Encrid could not see. Would this be a problem? "Not at all." The sword tip pointed directly at him. Only it and himself remained in the world. That was Aisia's pointed blade technique. An illusionary sword, a deceptive blade. Encrid already knew how to overcome that sword. Ragna, Rem, and Saxen had already shown him the answer numerous times before. Rem blocked the pointed sword with his axe as he fought. Ragna ignored the sword's tip. His will to cut down whatever stood in his way eliminated the obstacle before him. Saxen struck down the sword before it began targeting him. While all three strategies were correct, none were exactly applicable to Encrid himself. Ever since he had instilled some will into his body, he felt it. "It only has meaning if I solve it myself." To move forward, he had to walk correctly. He had to step on the path laid before him to progress. Merely lifting a foot in place doesn’t mean moving forward. To properly advance, he needed to make the process his own. Only then could he truly walk the dirt path and push through the sand. While there were methods from Rem, Ragna, and Saxen, Encrid needed to find his own approach. He didn’t think it would happen all at once. He wasn’t a genius. By now, he knew that well. "You're a genius." The words hurled at him by a mercenary during his youth no longer lingered in his heart. Instead, only the sword remained. The dream remained. What had sewn together the torn dream? The sword. When Aisia left previously, Encrid had regretted not having two hundred more sparring sessions with her. Why was Aisia blocking his path? He didn’t know. That he couldn’t afford delays on the way to save Krang? He knew. However, Encrid didn’t feel any impatience. If minor disturbances like these could shake him, he wouldn't have been able to hold onto a sword and endure all this time. So, he decided to focus on what he needed to do right now. In fact, he plunged entirely into the moment. If she blocked him, he'd surpass her. If she obstructed him, he'd break through. In those brief seconds, Encrid thought and organized his thoughts. Once he concluded, he drew the sword—his means to his end. There was something he wanted to try if he clashed with Aisia again. A method of his own. Encrid closed his eyes. If seeing was the issue, then what if he simply didn’t see? "…You're really insane." For the first time, a slight ripple of emotion slipped from Aisia's otherwise stoic voice. Even she couldn’t help but be amazed at such audacity. Though she had maintained her composure at the mention of drinking as a hobby, this was hard to disregard. “Close his eyes?” To close his eyes and charge in—was that something a sane person would do? Even when fighting with open eyes, Aisia often won. Whether half-hearted or giving his all, Encrid often lost their duels. Yet, he closed his eyes simply because the sword's tip blocked his view? "Are you underestimating me? Or have you been training some special way?" Aisia threw out more words. Encrid sensed from her words that she wasn’t here by her own will. If she truly wanted to be here, she’d have swung her sword first, not spoken. That's how it always was in their sparring sessions. Still, it wasn’t his concern. Encrid was enjoying the moment—thrilled at facing Aisia. His smile showed he was fully reveling in the challenge. He closed his eyes and listened, letting his ears act in place of his sight. "If you sharpen your sense skills enough, you can see without seeing." Those were the words Saxen had repeated countless times. His subordinates often demonstrated such feats. Without looking, they would identify movements of people standing behind them. Audin spoke of feeling the currents in the air. “You’ll just know.” Rem referred to a sixth sense. Ragna questioned why it was necessary to identify every movement from behind. His opinion—just swing the blade and cut whatever is there. Very Ragna-esque. And needless to say for Saxen. "You feel the air's vibrations, hear the sounds with your ears." Distinguishing and interpreting subtle noises was fundamental to honing sensory skills. They all had similar theories but expressed them differently, due to their unique realizations. By now, Encrid had honed his instincts to have the sixth sense of evasion. Using this, he moved with his eyes closed. In summary, it was akin to a madman laughing with closed eyes launching the first attack. "You crazy bastard." Aisia spoke, her voice carrying not just reproach but a measure of respect. Encrid relied on memory for the initial strike. He remembered Aisia's position and heard her voice. Then he triggered his momentary willpower. *Boom!* The ground beneath him shattered and exploded. Stone dust erupted from beneath the carpet. Using full force, Encrid swung his sword. He held nothing back just because she was a familiar opponent. --- Aisia couldn’t let Encrid pass. The primary reason was singular. "If you pass me, you'll die." Allowing him through didn’t mean he would survive. Therefore, she stopped him here. Whether she came willingly, was coerced, or had no choice but to stand her ground here… “That’s for later.” Filled with resolve, facing an opponent clashing with full strength lay before her. Eyes closed, splitting each fleeting moment as he closed the distance. Encrid’s sword descended without hesitation. Aisia met it with the same speed. She hadn’t dampened her power at all. Her sword strikes seemed even swifter and more precise compared to when his eyes were open. She raised her thin sword horizontally to strike upward. Twisting her ankle, she dissipated the force. Once more, she deflected his sword’s force with the thin rapier blade. Delaying wasn’t an option, so capturing the moment they clashed, she twisted and disrupted. Aisia did just that. The rapier seemed to move like fluttering cloth. *Tiriririring.* The sound was unexpectedly gentle considering the force that struck down. Encrid’s sword veered to the side. Aisia released tension in her grip only to regain it. Instantly, the muscles beneath the leather arm guards on her forearms tensed, adding force as she gathered energy for a forward thrust. *Whoosh.* The air reached him before the sword. The momentum and pressure raised the hair on his body. Encrid had no time to recover the downward swing. In its place, he clutched his sword, Silver, with his left hand, while his right grasped the sword at his right hip. Drawing it backward, he blocked. The gladius caught Aisia’s thrusting sword tip. *Thump!* With precise timing and coordination of strength, the thrusting force from the rapier transmitted through the gladius. Encrid’s feet lifted off the ground momentarily as he was pushed back. ‘She’s superior in strength.’ It was a fact that even Aisia understood. Encrid's brute strength was intimidating. Even a single failed strike could deal significant damage. However, failure was not an option. She would not allow herself to be hit by such a blunt blade. Especially when he charged with his eyes closed, lacking precision. As Encrid retreated, he opened his eyes again. Aisia once again aimed her sword at him. She could continue this kind of battle all day. Endless combat was part of the intensive training regimen of the knights. Naturally, she had completed that training. And as for Encrid... "One more time." He smiled.