377 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

# 377. At the Tip of the Sword A purple lamp swayed over the rippling black river. As the small ferry rocked, Encrid's body moved back and forth with it. Sitting silently at the edge of the ferry, Encrid kept his mouth closed, prompting the boatman to speak again. "There is a very easy way." Encrid did not respond. The boatman continued speaking. "Run away." His lips barely moved, and his voice echoed across the ferry as if lingering in the air. "Run away and do not face your death. Then I will take care of it." Encrid lowered his gaze diagonally instead of answering. He seemed to be a man with countless thoughts filling his mind. The boatman's mouth opened once more, and his echoing voice again drifted over the ferry. "If you dislike escape, then use your tongue. Persuade your opponent and prepare for what’s to come. Together, the two of you can handle it." If Asia and Encrid combined their strengths, they could face the opponent that would appear afterward. They know the future by repeating today. Though not every day will be identical, the broad strokes will remain unchanged. Fighting with Encrid has drained Asia's stamina, and he is injured. The same goes for Encrid. If they combined forces while maintaining stamina without injuries, they could definitely handle the opponent. They might even seize victory. Since it’s a life-risking fight, the two of them on the same side would certainly hold an advantage. Of course, it won’t be a guaranteed victory. "Do you want to know exactly what the wall is?" As always, the boatman's words were devoid of emotion. He merely expressed factual meanings without any feeling. Encrid listened to the boatman continuously but gave no answer. Was he pondering over what he had said? The boatman kicked the bottom of the ferry with the tip of his foot. The ferry swayed greatly with the impact. Encrid, who was seated, had to put his hand on the floor to maintain his balance. In that position, he lifted his head. A vacant gaze, a face lost in thought, a half-open mouth. These were what the boatman saw. Focus seemed to return to Encrid's eyes, and he asked a question again. "What?" "What did I just say?" The boatman almost showed emotion, but he restrained himself and asked back. Encrid blinked twice and answered. "Oh, I didn't hear." It was genuine. He was so focused that he didn't hear. As always, Encrid answered with sincerity and earnestness. "……Go." The boatman's mouth moved sooner than he thought. His words didn’t even enter this fellow's head. It wasn't that they went in one ear and out the other. Nor was it that he was deflecting them out of rebellion. He simply ignored and swallowed them. Even a boatman might find this displeasing. "Huh?" Even though he knew that Encrid's bewildered questioning was genuine, it seemed irritating. Purity can sometimes become a weapon that bestows frustration onto another. "I said, go." The boatman didn't bother to express anger or argue. It was enough to send him off. There was a reason for sending him. 'I will watch.' His intentions, his plans—such things would be revealed in time. "Oh, okay." Encrid nodded without any sign of embarrassment. Soon, Encrid's figure grew faint and disappeared from the ferry. The boatman, left alone, gazed silently into the darkness. Perhaps he would repeat the same today. And he would face another moment like this again. On the ferry, in the dark, he would meet himself. It was an inevitable occurrence. The boatman foresees the repeated todays. What is to happen will happen. What is predetermined will unfold accordingly. Encrid had surprised him a few times, but it was only up to that extent. Certainly, no wall could be surmountable in just a day. The repetition of today is a continuation of pain and agony. It's an unavoidable structure. That's the essence of the curse. However, even pain becomes ecstasy for those mired in madness. 'A madman.' The boatman's eyes blurred. Not towards the black river, but towards Encrid, who was caught in an endless loop of life. Due to the curse, he could see his figure. The boatman watched it. He repeated the same day. He would awaken at dawn and train his body. Instead of persuasion, he'd kick the constable. He'd send a man named Ragnaran and a beast called Dunbakel to the advancing forces from outside. To the group of assassins, he'd shame his comrades standing by his side by claiming he was hurt, and that he had indeed been stabbed. He'd head to the palace and swiftly cut down the adversaries that blocked his path. He slashed and killed. Long conversations were unnecessary. "Were you accused of raping the maid? I just cut without asking last time." "What?" He ignored the opponent's bewilderment. In fact, he had no interest in the past facing him. Although he almost killed the curse owner, the malice wasn't truly visible. It's not that it didn't exist. It was just. 'He’s fixated on something else now.' Encrid looked at the maid, bypassing the incredulous fellow. When he asked with his eyes, the trembling maid nodded her head. After that, it was a process of slashing and killing. Thus, once again, he faced the wall. The lady knight with orange hair. "That's far enough." She stood blocking his way. Encrid raised his sword. There was no question. Since it was bound to happen, there was no reason to ask. No, that wasn't the reasoning structure he moved with. The boatman momentarily glimpsed a part of Encrid’s heart. It was something filled with anticipation. 'That bastard.' He was here to compete against the wall. He had rushed to face swords with that lady knight. The repeated today. Though the minor details weren't entirely identical, it was a similar today. Of course, there was something different. Before reaching this point. There was a change during the training process after waking up in the morning. "Rem, how did you do that?" It was around when the morning sun was directly overhead. While the constable babbled something in the middle, Encrid spoke with a man named Rem. "This brat, how dare you chat when this body is here in person." "Please wait a moment." Encrid said so and asked again. Before him stood a constable, flabbergasted and slack-jawed. "The tip of the sword. You blocked it with the axe blade." Rem, who had been blinking, provided a brief and direct explanation. "All you need is to align it well." In truth, he couldn't elaborate much further, and Encrid, determining there was nothing else worth hearing, turned his body. That was the difference in today's repetition. "You rogue!" The ignored opponent erupted in anger. And that was all. Later, as he stood before the wall of Asia with his sword drawn and attempted some maneuver, he met a similar end. He was slashed, stabbed, and lost. He lay sprawled on the ground. There was yet another difference from the previous today, one already known to the boatman. It was something Encrid was unaware of. His gaze scanned behind Asia. The figure whom Asia referred to as senior did not appear. Instead. "I'll go check the rear." Asia departed, and with that, it ended. A moment passed, then instantly, darkness fell, and today ended once more. The boatman looked across to the other side of the ferry. Grain-like fragments gathered and converged. The forming cluster slowly began to assume a human shape. It was Encrid. The boatman felt curiosity rising within. Since there was no need to suppress it, he opened his mouth. "Let me ask you one thing." "What?" There stood Encrid, still with that vacant gaze. "You couldn't hear what was being said earlier because you were deep in thought, right?" Encrid opened his mouth candidly. There was nothing to hide. There was nothing to conceal. Although, he wondered why the question was asked. "I was thinking about how to block the tip of a sword." Seeing the fervor and passion in his eyes, the boatman felt assured. This man, Encrid, was singularly concentrated on one objective. He only saw the opponent wielding the sword right in front of him. Wall or not, he just focused on it, only recognizing it, and poured all his attention into it. Though the boatman didn't need to say anything, he spoke of what he could within his authority. "Do you see that as a wall?" He intended to tell him that it wasn't. To make him face the real wall. "I don’t know." That was left unsaid. So, is that important? What mattered to me wasn’t that. That was also left unsaid. Do you have anything else to say? If not, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me ponder. That, too, was unsaid. The boatman felt emotions. It was a sense of absurdity. A feeling of confusion. The purity without any intention met him, and the words he had prepared to trap his opponent through repeated thoughts vanished meaninglessly. They blended with the darkness, muddled, and floated away. "Do as you will." The boatman replied, having read his intentions. Fine, try what you want. What you see now isn’t the wall. That was the unsaid answer. Encrid vanished once more. He faded, scattered, and disappeared. 'Foolish.' Yet, something like this was expected. Even if he surpasses this wall, it would leave him with deep scars. The boatman chuckled softly. Watching him suffer would be an unparalleled delight. If he were to surpass this wall, it would indeed become a curse to him, the boatman knew. * * * 'I now understand one thing.' That mimicking Rem's method might be useful. It's not just Rem's method. It’s beneficial to try everyone's approach at least once. Imitation is one of the swiftest ways to comprehend the subject being copied. 'My own approach follows after that.' When a path appears, walk it. That’s what Encrid did. What is the wall, and how far does it stretch? If he asked the boatman, it seemed likely he'd answer. Today's boatman gave off that impression. But it wasn’t vital. He didn’t need to know. So he didn’t ask. Instead of questioning, he pondered. "What is on your mind since morning?" It was the third today. While training at dawn, he paused to think, and Rem, who had arisen leisurely from sleep, inquired. Encrid tossed the crucial question even earlier than on the second today. "How did you manage to block with the axe blade?" Even when faced with the sudden question, Rem wasn’t fazed. It was nothing new for Encrid to act this way. Therefore, the answer came promptly. "Asia's sword is aimed at me, right? I just target the tip of my opponent’s sword with my axe." The explanation was chaos, akin to a stage ruined by a disruptive mutt. It was a mess—complex and challenging. But if he were someone who would give up over that, he wouldn’t have picked up a sword to begin with. Moreover, Rem was aware that his explanation was difficult. "Try aligning your blade." Rem said, picking up his long-handled axe. Though he held it effortlessly, it had a curious balance and was heavier than it appeared. Regardless, just by holding it, it seemed to have a different gravity. Encrid drew his sword. With a ping, the extracted sword was aimed forward. The thin, slender blade directed its point ahead. Standing like this, it seemed the first step of imitation was not merely pointing the sword tip. 'Mix intimidation and intent to kill.' In a way, it's the complete opposite of Saxe’s technique of non-lethal thrusting. A sword that pressures and deceives the opponent. Encrid couldn't replicate it immediately. Instead, he poised the sword. Thunk. Rem struck the tip of the sword with his axe blade. Precisely speaking, he hit the sword's pointed tip with his axe blade. "Understand?" Instead of responding, Encrid fell into thought. He mulled over what Rem had just done. Explaining through action was infinitely easier to understand than mere words. He pondered even further alone. Encrid understood. Rem had precisely met the point of the sword with the sharpest edge of his axe. The edge and the point met accurately. It was beyond a feat, almost a wonder beyond skill. And within this action was embedded a question. Can you meet point to point, with usual speed and force? “Ah.” An exclamation escaped him. “Try it. You’ll know once you do.” Rem took a step back, and Encrid slowly wielded swords in both hands. Ember and Gladius. Clashing the blades was simple. But point to point? Edge to point? It could work if done slowly. Reducing speed made it challenging, yet possible. Strength naturally coursed through his muscles. With such unnecessary force, movements felt unnatural. How to make this natural? What skills are required for this? "That's right. If you can manage that, you're set," Rem said, slipping his long-handled axe into his belt. His tone suggested that he had said all he needed to say. Encrid didn't even nod. He quickly delved into his own world—total immersion. Watching this, Rem found him a truly intriguing individual. He raised a finger to his lips when Andrew looked over, motioning for silence. Although he made no "shh" sound, Andrew, who was about to speak, closed his mouth. Stepping back three steps at Rem's gesture, Andrew finally spoke up. "What is it?" "I'll personally oversee today's training." "…That's okay. I can manage on my own." "No, it's not okay. I intend to carry on the captain's legacy." "But, Captain Encrid isn't dead." "My continental language skills are still a bit rough." What was that supposed to mean? Andrew had never seen him use western languages. Andrew's expression, which silently questioned this, was ignored. Encrid, meanwhile, heard the sounds around him but sunk deeper into his thoughts. He descended within himself, pondering deeply.