A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

For one hundred eighty-six days, Encrid became aware of the concept of coordination and felt the change in his body’s responses.

Thud.

At the moment he sensed the spearhead flying from behind, he turned and grabbed the spear shaft.

It was like a stunt.

A spearhead aimed at his back.

Encrid twisted his body to evade it and, in the same motion, reached out and grabbed the shaft.

It was like a scene from a choreographed play.

Then came a dull thud, the sound of a blade striking a head.

As soon as he perceived and visualized the movement, his body responded instinctively.

“The Isolation Technique forms the basis that allows you brother to easily control your body.”

Audin’s words resonated with him.

Had he not trained his body rigorously using the Isolation Technique, he wouldn’t have been able to perform these actions.

The movements he envisioned were executed precisely.

Naturally, he also became aware of the flaws in his movements.

‘With minimal motion.’

It was a realization tied to conserving energy.

If the movements were too large, unnecessary energy would be lost.

Such waste would prevent endurance.

Movements had to be efficient, now that he understood this, he could work to minimize waste.

Training in the Correct Sword Technique also helped.

‘By predicting movements.’

He could reduce the waste in his actions.

Unbeknownst to him, Encrid’s swordsmanship was also progressing to the next level.

It wasn’t his intention, merely a byproduct of his desperate struggle to do his best.

Even as he repeated these nearly two hundred days, to the point of being sickened by the stench of monsters and beasts.

Encrid smiled.

The joy of growth filled him.

Even amidst repeated failures, he felt this way.

He did not stop his desperate efforts. Encrid never ceased thinking about how to move toward tomorrow.

It was the result of this contemplation.

In an instant, Encrid felt his entire nervous system become alert.

It was on the two-hundredth day.

He saw a blade flying towards him.

It was just past noon. As he sidestepped with his left foot, the blade sliced through the air.

A spearhead thrust from the side, and an axe came from behind.

Encrid ducked while pushing the spear shaft with his palm.

The axe struck his shoulder but was deflected.

A scraping sound as it scratched the leather armor, but he wasn’t injured.

Then again, spears, a sword called a gladius, axes, and clubs came flying.

One mutant swung a club the size of an adult man’s thigh vertically.

He felt the sword was getting in the way.

It hindered his movements. It was harmful. Uncomfortable.

Encrid sheathed his sword.

No, he even unbuckled his belt while moving.

His body felt lighter.

Swish, whoosh, zing, slice.

Not all the movements of the weapons were visible to him. He decided to observe and react to each one individually.

He focused entirely on seeing and responding, forgetting himself in the process.

Before long, the midday sun had passed its zenith and was sinking westward.

A sneaky hyena repeatedly tried to bite his ankle.

Encrid avoided that too, sometimes retreating, sometimes advancing.

He spun sideways and kneed the stomach of a hyena beast that had come too close.

Immediately, he threw himself into the arms of a knoll approaching from behind, using his shoulder to push it away.

Using the rebound force, he stood upright.

Then, seeing a blade flying towards him, he reached out and struck the knoll’s wrist.

“Grrk?”

The knoll’s blade veered off course, slicing the head of a nearby comrade.

“Grragh!”

Another knoll, enraged, swung a hammer.

Swish.

The movement was large, as was the trajectory. It wasn’t hard to dodge. The problem was that such attacks came in groups of five or six at a time.

So what could he do?

He observed and reacted to each one. That’s what Encrid did.

He pushed away and dodged the spear shafts, evading repeatedly.

He focused solely on evasion, excluding any thought of killing the enemy.

It was an evasion technique that combined instinct, intuition, and enhanced senses.

By then, the sun had set, and the moon was quietly rising.

Encrid was unaware of day or night. He was too busy ‘dealing’ with everything targeting him.

Ducking, deflecting, dodging, moving.

It wasn’t a fight to the death but rather a game of tag.

Repeating today’s events, Esther had silently settled on a roof several times, watching him.

Even in her eyes, it was clear.

‘What is that?’

To explain it would be to describe a scene that made little sense.

Encrid was alone, dodging amidst a wave of knolls. Just enduring. It was a certain death. Unavoidable. But why? Why? Why?

‘Why are you smiling?’

A question arose in Esther’s mind. It was a question that would fade after today.

The way Encrid acted was something she couldn’t simply describe as ‘stunt’.

He seemed to be playing among the wave of monsters, the knolls.

He seemed on the verge of death at any moment but never died. He dodged axes, avoided clubs, deflected, and blocked.

Sometimes, he even hugged the knolls.

How could he not?

In a desperate situation where standing still meant death, Encrid grabbed and shook the arms of the knolls he hugged from behind, as if they were his own. He used them to block other knolls’ attacks, even deflecting an incoming axe blade with a club.

Thud!

It was madness. He abandoned attacking and focused solely on evasion.

As the sunset ended and the moon rose, the carriage of the day reached its destination.

Finally, the day came to an end.

The moonlight softly illuminated the surroundings, lighting up the summer night.

The place was filled with the stench of decay, the smell of corpses, the heat of metal, and the scent of monsters.

Encrid stayed awake all night.

More precisely, he ended the day.

It meant the day ended without seeing the leader.

‘Ah.’

Only then did his immersion break. Only then did Encrid realize what he had done.

‘Ah.’

He let out a second exclamation inwardly. It was understandable.

He discarded his weapon and focused solely on evasion.

Why? Why did he do this? It was a movement driven by instinct.

And thus, he learned. He learned how to evade entirely. How to observe and react.

This was a talent Encrid hadn’t originally possessed.

It was a change in his reflex speed and physical ability.

The Isolation Technique built the foundation, and the Sense of Evasion filled it. It was a tower built from repeatedly surviving amidst poison and blades.

He had faced hundreds of attackers. He withstood it. Killing them all wasn’t an option—that was something only a Knight could do.

But enduring it, purely enduring it—

‘It’s possible.’

A thrilling exhilaration surged through his body.

Even the knolls, who had attacked all day, would have been speechless with awe, though in reality, there were none left.

Encrid’s body was covered in cuts. Blood trickled down his cheek.

It was impossible not to get hurt at all. That was out of the question.

However, he had no fatal injuries.

At the end of that day, as he watched the sunset and the moon rise, he realized the day had ended.

“We’ll see each other again. But not here.”

After those words, Encrid closed his eyes.

Would this be the end of today? Just by enduring? Not a chance. It couldn’t be.

He had expected this.

Then, when he opened his eyes again, the surroundings had changed, as expected.

A black river, a ferry, a ferryman.

“That won’t be enough, will it?”

The ferryman passed by.

When he closed and opened his eyes again, he saw the ceiling of a cabin.

It was another ‘today’.

This repetition was a testament that merely enduring wasn’t the solution.

Of course, that wasn’t the problem.

Though exhilaration surged through him, now was not the time to revel in it.

In this endlessly repeating today, with all the accumulated information and thoughts—

As soon as Encrid stood up, he kicked Krais.

“Wake up.”

“Ugh, what is it, so early in the morning?”

What’s the matter? It’s a day where we’ll have to run like crazy to avoid dying.

It was around the hundred and twentieth repetition of today when he came up with a slightly unconventional method.

He intended to give it a try.

The original goal of ‘surviving today’ had been achieved.

It meant he had met the minimum condition he set for himself to pass today.

‘The Sense of Evasion.’

Along with the Heart of the Beast, it had now become ingrained in him.

He got the hang of it. The results of his rigorous training were evident in his body.

So, should he keep repeating this?

This cursed today?

There was no need. Despite his reputation for being singularly focused on sword training, Encrid was quite articulate and cunning.

Especially when it came to using unconventional methods.

* * *

Encrid set a goal and achieved it.

‘I survived.’

Spending an entire day and seeing it to the end.

Instinctively, he knew that the conclusion would lead back to the original today.

No, it was a gut feeling.

‘Breaking through the wall won’t be done this way.’

Enduring was never the answer.

If endurance was the solution, he would have simply run away from the wizard Resha and the lycanthrope.

The traps set by the mad wizard who created his lair in the city’s underground passages could have been avoided as well.

This was a curse, so a method to break it was needed.

Encrid didn’t know the exact solution, but he had some ideas.

He had spent time thinking about how to escape today, and this was the method he came up with.

If the repetition of today was due to the cycle of killing and being killed, what would happen if he didn’t even start that process?

‘It’s worth a try.’

The outcome follows the process.

“Did I mention that I’ve worked as a mercenary for quite some time?”

He said this after gearing up.

Sweat trickled down his forehead and brushed past his chin.

It was hot, as expected.

Even just gearing up early in the morning raised his body temperature significantly. It was perfect since it awakened his muscles and joints without the need for a separate warm-up.

Today, there was no time for the Isolation Technique or training.

So this was just right.

“Hmm?”

Luagarne tilted his head in confusion at Encrid’s words. He wondered what Encrid was talking about all of a sudden.

‘Is he having a headache this early in the morning?’

That seemed to be the gist of Luagarne’s gaze. But Encrid continued speaking.

“I’ve fought with cultists before. The Savage Cult of the Demon Realm.”

When he mentioned it nonchalantly, Luagarne reacted.

“…You mean cultists?”

His reaction was still distinct. A chilling air passed between them. It was a menacing atmosphere.

Ignoring the tension, Encrid spoke.

“Do you know anything about it?”

This felt a bit awkward.

Encrid wondered if he needed to practice his acting skills, but Luagarne didn’t seem to notice.

She was more distracted by something else than by his awkward speech and behavior.

The mention of cultists came up. To her, they were people who should be exterminated on sight. They were also a target of her vows.

“There was one guy we missed back then. I can’t believe I just remembered it now.”

Encrid tapped his forehead as he spoke.

This also seemed a bit awkward.

He definitely needed to practice his acting.

There hadn’t been enough rehearsal.

Of course, Luagarne still didn’t seem to care.

“Do you remember the guy who used to follow behind Deutsche Pullman?”

“The ugly guy with thick lips.”

Frog had a sharp eye for detail.

Yes, he had a face resembling a fish.

Encrid knew a few more of them. After all, he had repeated this day over two hundred times.

Was that the only thing he had learned?

However, that cultist disguised as a fish was definitely the most troublesome. In the repeated days, Luagarne always chased after him and never returned.

“That’s right.”

“Are you sure? That he’s a cultist?”

“Yes, I swear on my sword and everything I have.”

Luagarne knew how much Encrid valued his sword. It sounded similar to her own oath made from the heart.

It carried a weight unusual for a human’s words.

It meant she believed him.

“If you don’t believe me, we can go and ask him ourselves.”

“Let’s go.”

That was it. She was more decisive than expected. Luagarne pulled out her whip, wrapped it around her hand, and walked briskly.

She seemed determined to find Deutsche Pullman.

If he wasn’t there, she would likely search for him wherever he might be.

“What’s with that awkward speech?”

Krais, who had been watching silently, asked.

Was it really that awkward? Probably. But that wasn’t the important part.

“You should get moving too.”

Encrid said, stepping forward. He had measured the time countless times as he repeated today.

He tried to find out what was causing the monsters to gather so persistently.

Even if he couldn’t find the problem, at least knowing it made things easier.

‘Blocking it is not hard.’

At least for Encrid.

He had done it multiple times before, so there was no hesitation.

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