381 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

381. So Excited, I Could Go Crazy Enkried stared at the tip of Eisia's sword extended towards him. It was the same as before. Eisia’s body faded away, leaving only the blade visible, the point of the sword obscuring his vision. The sense of distance vanished. Eisia seemed to disappear. Soon, the tip of the sword began to waver. Is it starting like this? Why? ‘Was it provoked by my words?’ It was as if it challenged him to prove it. Calmed breathing, the wall he had to overcome without killing, Sagon’s words, the quivering sword tip. The trembling point split into many. It appeared multiplied. He imagined parrying each one. Each parried self was different. He became Rem, then Ragna, and then Saxen. As he confronted the sword tips by mirroring them, he felt the characteristics of those he imitated vividly. It was a process of learning and grasping, so it was natural. Rem’s method was about playing along. Saxen cleared the board before the game even began, deciding only to face opponents on his own terms. Ragna covered the opponent's will with his own. Enkried followed each in turn. Throughout more than three hundred days, he repeated it again and again. All seemingly different, yet the same. Why were Rem and Ragna able to do that? ‘It’s the sense.’ They could do it because they had a delicate and precise sense. Whether it manifests like Saxen’s five senses or like Ragna’s grip on the sword, the conclusion was the same. Enkried honed that precise sense. It circled back to the starting point. "This bastard?" Eisia spoke. The sound echoed in his ears. The dot vanished from Enkried's eyes, as if everything was fading, blurring away. It was only natural. Enkried had closed his eyes. Darkness came. Soon, with sound, touch, and intuition, he sensed everything and swung his sword. At a diagonal slant, using his left foot as a pivot, he transferred the rotational force of his extended body through his waist, striking down. The blade moved as if dropping abruptly in the air. "Do you think that will work!" Eisia shouted angrily, pulling back his sword and taking a defensive stance. It was a simple diagonal slash, but aiming just for the sword tip couldn’t block it. For those who couldn’t see it, aiming for the sword tip was pointless. In an instant, Enkried’s blade seemed to elongate, accelerating. Bang! To deflect the attack, one had to pinpoint the perfect moment, but the changing speed made it difficult. Even with the changes Enkried introduced, Eisia twisted his wrist instantly to deflect the sword. If he couldn’t block even this, the title of sub-knight, the Red Cape Knight, would be wasted. Enkried pulled the deflected sword with force and struck down again. Woosh! Eisia retreated backward. As Enkried opened his eyes, Eisia adjusted his stance, the sword tip pointing again. “Don’t want to acknowledge being broken?” Still in the slashing posture, Enkried asked. “Try again.” Eisia replied. There was no absolute need to close his eyes. Enkried deliberately blurred his vision. Leaving only a vague image disrupted concentration. Aiming for the sword tip was a phantom skill that exploited the opponent’s focus. In other words, this was enough. Any lack in vision was compensated by other senses. Bang! From the slashing stance, Enkried twisted his wrist and swung upward. His sword shot up like a lightning bolt. Eisia couldn’t ignore it and blocked. Holding the sword horizontally, he fended off the attack by leaping backward, diverting the insane strength of Enkried. The blades met and parted. Sparks flew between them with a bang. Even with the skillful deflection, the force dealt a shock through the entire body. Eisia knew well that he couldn’t win by strength alone. Enkried’s half-blurred eyes found their focus. “Once more?” And he questioned. “......Who are you?” For Eisia, it was incomprehensible. One might dismiss an incidence as coincidence, but twice? In truth, from the first, he knew. Enkried had shattered the aim for the sword tip. But how was such a thing possible? During practice, he struggled, barely able to face it, let alone decipher a solution. The technique wasn’t fully polished, and he lacked experience against such kinds of skills. Then what was this? It felt like he trained relentlessly, aiming at just the sword tip hundreds of times. As if the attacks were precisely aligned, it struck a chord in Eisia’s heart. ‘My mind is unsettled.’ At the moment of realization, Eisia collected himself, evened his breath. A disturbed mind would falter in spirit, so Eisia ignored it. No, he expanded his understanding to encompass it. “Okay. This must be the outrageous talent from Lua Gelnar?” “Just lucky.” It's a common excuse, though it sounded like a provocation. One corner of Eisia’s mouth lifted. “You probably hear you’re annoying, right?” “Sometimes?” “Yeah. You’re annoying.” “Thanks for the compliment.” Words couldn’t suppress Enkried. Even among the knights, his tongue was unmatched. Eisia substituted words with his sword. Swordplay wasn’t limited to aiming for the tip. ‘Even if a skill is broken, mastery doesn’t rise at once.’ That was a fact. But before ten exchanges, Eisia’s common sense wavered and cracked. The skill in Enkried's swordplay showed unprecedented refinement. Previously lacking precision, his sword technique became intricate. For example, the gap between deflection and immediate countering had decreased. Before, he overextended his wrist, giving the opponent time to prepare, but not anymore. The angle at which the wrist bent, the force exerted while deflecting — everything was just right. Precision was evident. ‘Unbelievable.’ One had to say it was an innate talent that made others click their tongues. To this extent, it was a talent surpassing even those referred to as seniors within the knight order. Eisia, noticing her poised stab deflected by the snake-like twisting sword, had to move aside. His responsiveness had increased, and the sense for timing improved. Breaking the sword tip aim wasn’t all. ‘How?’ Did he have a great teacher and swing his sword tirelessly for months on end? Despite continuous surprises, Eisia regained his composure once more. “What is will?” It is heart, belief, and determination. How can someone who crumbles internally possibly win in reality? Using his master's words as a guide, he steadied himself. Eisia did just that. This was applicable to Enkried’s current situation as well. By expressing his unwillingness to kill Eisia, he had steadied his heart. Eisia, too, managed to do this in real time. Indeed, the mindset of a sub-knight was on a different level. “Ha!” With a shout, he cast aside stray thoughts, channeling the rotational force from pivoting on his right foot into his sword-wielding arm. This was the third technique of will, following intimidation and phantom sword. Rapid thrust. A technique similar to Enkried’s momentary will. It was a fundamental skill among the knights. Speed was always the truth. Bang! Enkried parried the thrust with the flat of his gladius. It was done using a momentary will, just like before. ‘This too.’ Previously, during practice, he would use will in distinct segments, pausing between each. The breakpoints were clear. Using the momentary will required prior preparation. It was noticeable. But not anymore. “You blocked that?” “If you think it was luck, try again.” Both of them were smiling by now. Enkried spoke while slashing down with his sword, and Eisia pretended to block horizontally before quickly dodging. As the sword veered off-course, another rapid thrust followed. Enkried twisted his body. The sword tip skimmed dangerously close to his cheek. The edge of his skin tore slightly, a drop of blood flicking out. They clashed blades, exchanging blows. Though Enkried overcame Eisia’s aim-for-the-tip technique, he hadn't fully subdued her. To be precise, it was a draw. Had they been intent on killing each other, one of them could have died, but neither had such intentions. Thus, they ended up exhausted and injured. Enkried’s left upper arm was pierced, rendering it immobile, while Eisia had a deep gash on her calf, impairing her mobility. With a few steps back, when they momentarily paused, Eisia asked, “What are you, really?” She posed the question again, unable to hide her bewilderment. “Seriously, why are you smiling, damn it?” From Eisia’s perspective, Enkried was grinning broadly. It was utterly baffling. There are limits to enjoying a fight. The fact that he could smile in such a situation indicated something was amiss in his head. The sun was setting by then. The sunlight outside disappeared as twilight began to approach. Eisia frowned. And yet, Enkried still wore a smile. ‘Did he go insane from fighting?’ Perhaps that was truly the case. Watching Eisia, Enkried spoke. “I’m so excited, I could die.” “What?” What was he saying? Enkried’s eyes appeared to contain the vanished sunlight. His eyes shone with a light of passion and enthusiasm. He continued speaking. “Knowing there’s still a way to climb higher drives me crazy with joy.” It was genuine. Pure joy with no impurities. Enkried had layered precision onto his senses beyond just evasion and attack. Despite the incremental development in his skills, he hadn’t managed to completely overpower Eisia. That was the reason. There was a path ahead, one to train and ascend further, it was visible, and it was within reach. That fact made him inexplicably happy. “Crazy bastard.” Eisia, too, earnestly defined what stood before her. It was something he often heard. * * * “That’s not a wall.” The Ferryman appeared in his dreams. Lately, he seemed more relaxed than before. He couldn’t respond. It was a dream, a fleeting afterimage. Yet, it was an afterimage that remained vividly engraved in his memory. It felt as though he should heed the Ferryman’s words, no matter what. “Kill her.” Someone commanded, and it felt like he had to obey that. Enkried politely disregarded everything. “What a beautifully fine morning.” Before the sun even rose, Enkried stepped outside, muttering to himself. Rem, half-asleep, squinted at his retreating figure. “What’s got him so riled up this morning?” There was an undercurrent of unease pervading since last night, so what was there to be so pleased about? Rem’s words held such meaning, yet Enkried paid them no mind. He advanced, refining his body through the technique of isolation. Thoughts organized themselves neatly and reached a conclusion. Thoughts regarding the concept of walls. A wall could be a condition. If the condition was to kill a thrusting maniac. There were times when mere survival was the condition. Once, merely parrying a knight’s sword was the condition. Was there a singular path through all these situations? There wasn’t. This time was no different. Regardless of how the Ferryman advised him, Enkried did as he always did. In other words, what he wanted to do. Shortly after, Ester transformed and announced she was heading out, prompting Enkried to request, “Bring a melon.” Melon was a precious fruit from the southern regions, hard to come by on this continent. “Your condition worsens by the day.” Ester remarked nonchalantly, moving with the understanding that comprehending this man was beyond her. “Why are you so excited? Do you feel like you could just fly?” It wasn’t their first or second encounter. Rem observed how unusually excited his captain seemed. Even Saxen picked up on it, regarding him with a peculiar look. Dunbakel seemed distracted, and Ragna was typically uninterested in such matters. It was no wonder he was elated. It was only natural. A heavy weight that had been hanging over his heart had lifted. When you remove a sandbag you've been carrying around, doesn't your body feel inversely light? Moreover, the path forward was visible, and walking it brought immense joy. “You know, the thought of knocking someone out makes my heart race.” Enkried said. It was something Rem couldn’t possibly understand, but he didn’t question further. Soon, as the constable appeared and was promptly knocked out by Enkried, Rem merely asked, “Were you talking about knocking this guy out?” Was he aware the constable was on his way? That was the implication of Rem’s question. Enkried laughed. "No." The person he intended to knock out was the female knight with orange hair.