379 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 379: Oh So Very Much "Andrew, yes, just like that. Give it a try." It was on the nineteenth day that Encrid instructed Andrew to thrust his sword toward him. He now needed someone's help. And so, Encrid did. They began the practice of meeting the tip of Andrew’s sword with his own. "......This seems like a foolish exercise." Upon hearing Andrew's exclamation for about the thirty-sixth time, Encrid managed to meet his sword's tip to Andrew’s for the first time. This wasn't about staying stationery; rather, it was about moving at an adequate speed. Of course, it wasn't easy. It was difficult. The very difficulty meant that the thrill of success surged through his entire body. Yet, the enjoyment of that thrill was fleeting. To truly master it, one must repeat the same actions innumerably. Still, it was undeniable that it was joyful. Ding! A lively, rare sound greeted their ears. “Is this fun for you?” Andrew inquired. All the while, concentrating intensely, energy radiated from his entire being. It was fun and exhilarating, undeniably so. Just like a child can play with a toy all day, it seemed as though he was actually doing just that. He wielded pure joy as if it were a weapon, aimed at striking with a sword. That was Andrew's impression. "Yes, oh so very much." Encrid emphasized in his reply. ‘But why?’ Andrew couldn’t understand it, yet for Encrid, it was as natural as always. "Is this really fun for you?” “Yes, oh so very much indeed.” “This is?” “Huh?” Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. The sword tips met countless times. After hearing Andrew’s admiration over forty more times, Encrid, drenched in sweat, nodded. “That’s enough for now.” He then called for Rem. “Rem, swing your axe.” They shifted opponents. With a snort and a grin, Rem swung his axe without hesitation. No room for error should be tolerated. No margin for error or gaps should be allowed. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to perfectly evade Rem’s axe. It wasn't just about partially avoiding; perfection was necessary. That was the start. The follow-up to the sword-tip meeting was Rem’s axe evasion practice. The goal wasn’t simply evasion, but to meet blade to blade perfectly. “Are you fearless or just mindless? Come over here and kneel!” In the midst of a deep training session, the magistrate inevitably arrived. Watching Encrid lost in training, he displayed a similar reaction each time, to which Encrid mindlessly replied. “Oh, you’re here?” By now, it was almost a greeting. The magistrate’s face reddened as he snorted in exasperation. He thought Encrid was mocking him. And, of course, he was right. “You damned fool……” Before the magistrate could continue his tirade, Encrid dispatched him with a persuasive kick. He then had Dunbackle demonstrate the power difference to the magistrate’s team. He paired Squire Roford with Ragnar and Dunbackle, sent Rem to rescue Marcus, and prepared to confront Saxon and the assassins. “Strike…” Before he even finished speaking, Saxon leapt to the side in response. Slyly, silently. Using a magic artifact on his body, Saxon vanished, erasing all sound and signs of his presence. Encrid drew their attention first, thereafter Saxon further confused their senses, muddling the minds of the assassins’ group. Saxon became the target of the assassins, who now sought only him. Watching this cycle repeat, it seemed as if they were determined to kill Saxon from the start. Why? A sudden question arose. Several thoughts passed through his mind. He let all that surfaced drift by. Although suspicions arose guided by intuition, this wasn’t the time to delve into them. Riding his one-eyed horse, he met with Aisha, and the cycle of today repeated. Mastering the complete evasion of Rem’s strike happened faster than expected. Especially since it wasn’t his ‘genuine’ swing. It only took ninety-six tries. Having firmly established a foundational concept by now made it feasible. The various weapons training he'd undertaken proved advantageous. The more experience one gains, the more insights one discovers even with their original weapon of choice. Certainly, Rem snorted each time he witnessed it. “That stuff is supposed to come naturally, but you certainly have an interesting way about it.” According to him, it's when one's level increases that certain skills seep into the body naturally— but Encrid seemed to lack these traits. It was as if Encrid was like a stone tower that must be manually built stone by stone— ensuring it doesn't collapse. An apt metaphor indeed. For those without innate talent, learning everything precisely one by one is essential. For those trying to make up for the lack of talent with effort, what’s most crucial? Time. And due to the curse, he had time in abundance. “What's more incredible is that a person seems to change overnight.” Even Rem had never encountered someone like this before. Even without talent, even at the brink of their limit, at the edge of a cliff, they walked across thin air. And watching that walking, a path formed beneath their feet. Encrid who received his axe. He advanced and improved beyond before. His skill growth was extraordinary. Even a genius doesn’t transform overnight. There are signs or cues, usually. ‘Or perhaps those signs have already shown.’ Rem pondered, scratching his head. There was already a prepared body and skill, and time set aside for training. Was Encrid endowed with the ability to explode with talent in a single day after building up over time? ‘It doesn’t make sense.’ Having witnessed so many inexplicable events, he almost wanted to overlook it, yet amazement came every time. Nonetheless, it wasn’t something to question. "Saxon." It was after Encrid had adequately managed Rem’s axe. He now required Saxon. Saxon was the only one capable of demonstrating precision akin to the dual swords of Cyrnal. It wasn’t to say Rem and Ragna lacked such aspects. Those two wielded fine and precise swords. At higher mastery levels, knowing how to perform anything is typical. Yet, everyone possesses strengths particular to them. Saxon's precision was almost at the level of a fairy's, and it was one of his strengths. "Give it a shake." Continuing their training, they practiced meeting sword tips while allowing for slashes and parries. Sometimes they would face off against Asia and engage in combat. "Worried you left your lover behind? Or are you planning to visit them later?" Despite trying to dissuade her, Asia wouldn't listen. "I have something to check." She would always say and then turn away. And then, time went dark again. The day repeated itself. "Damn it, what have you done now?" In this new day, Rem seemed bewildered. Watching this, Encrid called Saxon for training once more. With days constantly overlapping and tasks repeating, he used it as an anchor to keep count. Occasionally, the ferryman would appear, laughing. It was a laughter filled with anticipation, or so it seemed to Encrid. The laughter flowed along the black river, and the lamp's light shook in response. Whether it was mocking or not, he didn’t mind. Having grown up surrounded by laughter, he had wielded swords, run, tumbled, and fought, standing up again and again. Mockery was all too familiar. Such mental attacks held no meaning for Encrid. Then, waking up once again, he repeated the events of today, training and honing his skills. When he managed to meet Saxon's sword tip with his own... That happened just as Asia was about to aim her sword blade toward him. "......How?" Asia was beyond surprised. "It just happened as I kept doing it." Such moments couldn’t simply be attributed to luck. The thrill and pleasure surged through his entire body, naturally bringing a smile. Seeing this, Asia withdrew her sword slightly. "Your face is also a weapon, I see." Asia took a step back and aimed her sword once more. "Again." And so they did. Clashing sword tips. "Like Rem, huh? Not even close." She suddenly remarked and began to shake her sword tip. What was this? It was a technique he hadn't seen during their sparring. Her sword tip was shaking, and soon there were several points in front of his eyes. To block it like Rem, you would need to intercept every single one. Repeated practice would make it second nature, surely. But that wasn’t the path he intended to take. It was as he’d decided from the start. ‘I must build this path myself.’ Gaining what he could from imitating Rem’s method was enough. "Do you think it looks easy because everyone learns my technique?" Asia spoke. Her tone wasn’t accusatory. While Encrid's technique of countering by aiming his sword tip was impressive, it was something he picked up from watching Rem. She suspected there were more hidden talents. If not, how could he have honed his swordsmanship and martial arts so effectively? Anyway, she herself was a member of the knightly order above the status of a squire. Challenges like these were not new, and she was accustomed to them. "If you're stuck on this, think again." With these words, she lowered her sword tip, dispersing the multiple points. Her orange hair swayed as she began to tap her foot, creating a rhythm. Of course, aiming the sword tip wasn’t her only weapon. "Let's continue." She said in that state. "Naturally." Encrid nodded. Ending their brief conversation, Silver, Sparks, and the Dwarf’s Gift cut through the air and danced. Asia's rapier on the opposite side reflected a blue light as it thrust, sliced, and sometimes twisted in unexpected directions. Still, it was hard to fend off or suppress her without any injuries. Yet now, he could spar all day, though the time limit was apparent. For some reason, today's cycle would end when the sun set, not at midnight. Then today would simply repeat. He knew from experience. Thus, he had to make the most of the allotted time. "Hoo, hoo, why has your skill suddenly improved?" Listening to Asia, Encrid laughed in response. "It's fun." "You crazy fool." Asia found herself laughing too, seeing how he only ever spoke his mind. So did she, swinging a sword and risking her life, feeling that same thrill. "See you again." The sun sets. And then, today's cycle begins anew. He was stuck. Thus today couldn't be surpassed. Encrid opened his eyes once again and decided to mimic Saxon’s approach this time. "Next step." Muttering to himself almost like a habit, reaffirming his resolve. "What’s next?" Andrew asked from the side as he loosened up with isolation exercises. "There's something." After giving a vague reply, Encrid began emulating Saxon’s method. To counter his sword-tip targeting technique was to respond before it even began. What was needed for that? "Prediction. You need to sense the opponent’s reaction just before it begins." "How?" "You can feel their eyelash flutter, or the tension of muscles hidden underneath clothes." It's easily said. Really. "Why are you looking at me like that?" "Nothing." "Your gaze appeared quite savage just now, didn’t it?” "What are you talking about? You wild little stray, I find that offensive." Rem interrupted. "Those were the eyes of a rotten fish mixed with eggs." Disregarding Saxon's words, Encrid faced a throwing axe. With a zing, the thrown axe met Encrid’s longsword, twisting it. With the right strength and timing, the axe that appeared disc-like was deflected vertically. Thud-daaang! A sound echoed; a swift exchange of defense and attack. The defense included technique. A finely honed, precise sword. After blocking like that, Saxon spoke. "The savage's breathing quickened slightly earlier.” Was he showing an example? Predicting by watching someone's breath? Likely it stemmed from an intuitive realm built upon countless experiences. Encrid absentmindedly observed the two’s sparring and banter. Saxon was always a step ahead. As Saxon had said, the skill wasn't just about the feeling of evasion, but also of attack. Now, he had to adjust every instinct and intuition to align with a single skill from his opponent—what you might call the intuition of prediction. With this new training, Encrid was learning and improving anew. "This is so much fun." He found himself speaking aloud again. Watching this, the ferryman almost wanted to click his tongue in disbelief. For this madman, boredom, hardship, or despair didn't exist. It was as if he was trapped in a closed space, swinging his sword in solitude, yet still finding enjoyment. Even though no one else shared the memory of these repeated days, it didn't matter to him. Encrid was fine because he had something that shared everything with him: The process of wielding his sword, the path he tread, the skill he accumulated, and every change he underwent—these were his measures of progress and joy. He was sharing these repeated days with his sword, and that sufficed. Having imitated Saxon's techniques, he then moved on to touch upon Ragna's. He continued fighting with the resolve to counter not just with the sword-tip aiming, but with a different tactic. Encrid's sword grazed Asia's throat. More precisely, he parried with Silver and drew his gladius for an unpredictable cross-slash. With a swift motion, a part of her skin split open, and droplets of blood emerged. The entire scene appeared in slow motion. He had the opportunity. He knew pressing the attack would lead to victory. But although his mind was aware, his heart did not command him to do so. 'I made contact.' But he didn't go for the kill. If he'd continued the assault, he might have gotten injured too, but he could have killed her. A lucky break might have only left him with a pierced shoulder, while a worse one could have resulted in a fatal injury. Essentially, there was a definite opportunity for a kill, but Encrid halted. Such a chance did not come again. Thud! Their swords clashed, and they switched positions. Asia stood where Encrid had been, and Encrid where she had stood. Blood dripped from his dangling arm. "When an opportunity comes, you must seize it." Asia said. Both were aware. Encrid remained silent. Asia sheathed her sword. "Let's end this here. After I check something behind, you can leave. Likely, your reason for being here won't matter much." Encrid still didn’t respond. Asia passed by Encrid's side without her guard up, her sword sheathed. After she departed, time flowed as he sat there quietly, and today came to its end. This was already the umpteenth time the day had ended in the same manner. In the darkness of the blackout, as he opened his eyes, a purple lamp came into view. It was the ferryman. The ferryman on the boat opened his mouth. "That is the wall." His voice was uncharacteristically kind, and it was understandable. "I told you it would be interesting." The ferryman said following this. For Encrid, however, it wasn’t particularly amusing.