A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

When night fell, he tried to hear the sound of the approaching assassin.

It was meaningless.

There was no sound or sign to be felt.

'Let's do it this way for now.'

There was no hesitation. Once the training method was decided, he simply followed through like an ox plowing a field.

Encrid did just that.

Before the poisoned needle flew, the assassin would definitely enter the tent.

He listened for that sign.

Every day, he lay down to sleep and greeted the same morning.

However, he didn't foolishly repeat night training only.

If he could, he did his best.

During the day, he sought out Jaxon.

It was today, the day after he learned the auditory training.

Encrid had to wait quietly in front of the tent.

He had arrived too early compared to usual.

Hearing murmurs from inside, he didn't get any closer.

He didn't know what secrets were being whispered, but there was no need to listen in.

After waiting, he met Jaxon.

"Let's walk together."

They walked and talked. Same questions, same attitude.

Encrid, while hearing the same words every time, unconsciously showed the listening attitude that Krang had taught him.

Listening well was deeply connected to learning well.

To proceed, you first had to listen and understand.

Even if he hadn't realized it, Encrid instinctively knew that listening was important.

In that respect, the attitude of attentive listening was an excellent tool.

Jaxon repeatedly said the same things.

Encrid sometimes had to pretend to be a genius.

"Having eyes in the back of your head means listening, right? Hearing with your ears?"

"…It doesn't really need an explanation."

"Sounds have directions too. You can distinguish front and back, left and right. It's about the sound you hear and its intensity, right?"

"Were you a genius?"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. You're smarter than I thought."

"Did I look like an idiot to you?"

"That's not it."

And then he dies again. Today repeats once more.

The day starts with the complaints of Platoon Leader Vengeance.

"Oh, no breakfast? Where did this bastard disappear to?"

"Yes, it's natural to get cranky when you're hungry."

"What?"

"Our platoon leader is whining, so I'll go get breakfast."

"…Are you crazy?"

Not really.

No matter what he said, it didn't mean much, so he started by teasing.

Observing the people passing by.

Using some of the daily occurrences as indicators, he spent today slightly differently.

Encrid half-jokingly got through breakfast and repeated his day.

Five times, ten times.

As he repeated, he got used to fetching Jaxon from the tent.

At first, it was awkward, but after overhearing their secrets once, he was undeterred.

Today, what was good.

Last time, what was good.

They were talking about their preferred positions and such.

In the repetition of today, Encrid boldly pulled back the tent flap.

"Jaxon, do you have a moment?"

"…What is it?"

"If you want to continue, then step aside."

"Even if I wanted to, you've ruined the mood."

"Then come out."

The woman next to him looked at Encrid with a bewildered gaze that said, 'What is with this guy?'

At first, it was awkward, but he became shameless as he got used to it.

He ignored her.

Above all, Jaxon didn't particularly express any complaints even when Encrid acted this way.

He was only curious about why Encrid was behaving like this.

His curiosity was always resolved in the same way.

"Are you curious about that?"

"No. Never mind."

It was the same with training. As he got used to hearing certain sounds, Jaxon raised a question.

"…Have you learned this before?"

"My grandfather taught me a bit when I was young."

Encrid was a war orphan.

He didn't even know his parents, let alone a grandfather.

"I see."

Even with such flimsy excuses, Jaxon just let it go.

Encrid always made his day worthwhile.

When he trained in thrusting, moving his body was the task. This time, sitting still was the task.

There were results.

Encrid made slow but steady progress.

'Let's do as I've learned.'

If you can't take a full step, take a half step.

If a half step isn't possible, take a quarter step.

If even that isn't allowed, start by wiggling your toes.

After repeating the same day about twenty times,

'I can hear it.'

He heard the sound of the wind hitting feathers.

Screech.

He heard the grating sound from the wheels of a carriage.

It sounded like a damaged cogwheel in a clock.

'That's the sound of breaking.'

Sounds come in different types.

Some sounds convey information as if speaking.

For instance, the sound coming from a flag does this.

"Finding out it's a westerly wind is easy. Just check where I'm sitting, find north, then follow the direction of the sound of the flag flapping."

Easier said than done. No one can do this instantly.

Repeat and repeat again.

As always, even though living by splitting each day, his mindset remained unchanged.

Everything created a synergistic effect.

'Follow the sound of the flag fluttering.'

Depending on his seated position,he could determine the direction of the wind. It's not particularly useful in everyday life or on the battlefield.

You can tell the wind's direction even from where you're sitting.

However, the significance lay in determining it purely by sound.

He distinguished the voice of a doctor.

He estimated the size and gauged the distance.

'If I master this properly, it could be useful on the battlefield.'

Come to think of it, Jaxon always avoided dangerous battlefields by a step.

Did he listen, judge, and move beforehand?

Is that even possible?

Right now, he didn't know.

The first step of this training was to distinguish sounds.

The second step was to gauge distance by listening.

Encrid had just barely completed these two steps.

The third step was to discern and listen to the tiniest of sounds.

The best training was said to be listening to the movements of an assassin.

'Funny, but…'

It was the perfect environment.

Dying without knowing what happened was, surprisingly, really unpleasant.

The situation where you just go without any resistance is the worst.

Still,

'Isn't this an opportunity?'

That thought came naturally.

He didn't get up from his bed. If he tangled with the freckled watchman, he would always die.

There was no need for that.

He lay down with his eyes closed and concentrated.

First, he focused on listening.

The next steps could be thought about later.

During the day, he listened to the sound of rolling carts, the sound of wooden pegs breaking and shaking, and conversely, the sound of intact carts.

He distinguished the sounds of flags flapping in the wind, tents rustling, and people's voices.

For some, repeating the same task could be exhausting and painful.

'It's fun.'

For Encrid, it was different.

Even the smallest growth brought him joy.

Although it wasn't as physically demanding as when he learned The Heart of the Beast,the mental strain was intense.

When he concentrated too much, he often got splitting headaches.

But after about thirty repetitions, he quickly got used to it.

He lived today a little differently than yesterday.

Encrid loved that to the point of shivering with excitement.

So, on the fifty-sixth night,

Swoosh.

The sound of a torch burning on the stand.

The sound of a soldier on night watch, startled awake and tapping the ground with his spear.

The freckled sentry at the infirmary, occasionally peeking inside.

Among these sounds, a tiny sound reached his ears.

The faint sound of wind slipping through.

'I heard it.'

It was distinctly different from usual. Encrid's ears distinguished the slight difference.

The moment he heard it, Encrid rolled to the side without hesitation.

'I dodged it.'

The initial plan was to dodge and then shout.

Encrid couldn't do that.

Swoosh.

He heard the sound of air being sliced behind him.

There was no time to draw the dagger hidden in his bosom.

He rolled forward again.

Whoosh, swoosh, swish.

An indescribable small noise kept reaching his ears.

By distinguishing the direction of the sound, Encrid barely, just barely, avoided the attacks.

The tip of the blade even grazed his thigh.

'That was lucky.'

If he had been a bit slower, his thigh would have been cut. Even a scratch would be dangerous against this opponent.

Would someone who used poisoned needles leave their blade uncoated?

He kept rolling and bouncing away.

The Heart of the Beast shone through.

Despite the continuous dangerous moments,his heart remained calm and steady.

There was no need to get excited.

If it was just about hearing and avoiding,

'It's okay. I can do this.'

If he gave up counter attacking, he could avoid the strikes.

The blade aimed at his back, making a long vertical slash.

The assassin's intention was clear.

They wanted to at least graze him.

Encrid rolled towards Vengeance's bed, who seemed oblivious to the commotion.

Rolling, he bumped the bed with his shoulder.

Thud.

A heavy impact reverberated through his shoulder muscles.

Despite ramming it with all his strength, Platoon Leader Vengeance did not wake up.

'Poisoned needle.'

He wouldn't wake up. It must be a poison related to paralysis or sleep.

"You tough bastard."

This time, it seemed the assassin was in quite a hurry, muttering and stomping the ground.

Encrid, his breath catching in his throat, panted heavily.

The assassin, sensing his opponent's labored breathing, thrust the knife in his right hand while throwing the poisoned needle with his left.

It was a near-fatal move.

Encrid, despite his ragged breathing, responded swiftly.

He dodged the knife and used Vengeance's arm as a shield to block the poisoned needle.

Thud, the needle embedded itself in Vengeance's forearm.

Seeing his attack blocked, the assassin hesitated, giving Encrid a moment to roll towards the tent entrance.

The heavy breathing was a ruse.

'This is the Valen's MercenaryTtechnique, the deceiving breath.'

It was a ploy to create an opportunity by pretending to give the enemy an easy chance to end the fight.

A beautifully executed trick.

Encrid, using the momentum from his roll, half-rose and acted as if he was bolting out of the tent.

The assassin lunged.

That too was a ruse.

Instead of heading for the entrance, Encrid moved towards the wall. He drew a dagger from his bosom and slashed at the tent wall.

The plan was to tear through and escape, winning the fight that way.

Rip.

Before he could react, the tent wall was already torn.

Beyond the cut tent wall,

"You're a bit late."

A voice accompanied by glowing green eyes appeared.

It was the fairy company commander, the mastermind of the assassination.

Encrid instinctively attempted a thrust.

Though he held only a dagger, it was a technique he had practiced countless times, ingrained in his body.

Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted and thrust at his opponent in one swift motion.

His right arm shot out like a spear.

The fairy company commander, eyes gleaming, stepped inside and swung his right hand from inside to outside.

Thud, whoosh.

The trajectory of Encrid's thrust was deflected by that gesture. Simultaneously, the commander kicked out Encrid's supporting leg.

The world spun, and Encrid tumbled to the ground.

What the fairy company commander did next was incomprehensible.

Tick, tick.

Encrid turned away, pulling his cloak and using it as a shield in front of him.

Thud, thud, something embedded itself into the cloak.

It was the poisoned needles.

"You okay?"

In a state of bewilderment, he saw Krang crouching outside the tent.

"Was there a guard?"

The assassin's voice was clearly shaken.

"The thought of assassination makes me nauseous."

The fairy company commander let the cloak drop as he spoke.

Encrid's mind was busy trying to comprehend the situation.

'Not an assassin?'

Was she on the defending side?

So, what he saw when he died was not the one who killed him but someone who arrived late?

"Doesn't look like you're hurt."

"Just startled."

Encrid answered Krang's question and turned his body.

Seeing the fairy company commander, the assassin seemed ready to flee, his weight shifted backward.

The commander didn't seem interested in stopping him.

Soon, the assassin began to retreat, slipping out of the tent entrance and fleeing.

Even while running, his footsteps made almost no sound.

"Well, this is something."

Krang chuckled awkwardly as he entered the tent.

The commander approached the tent, grabbed the shoulder of the freckled soldier who appeared to have fainted, and dragged him inside.

She glanced at Platoon Leader Vengeance before turning away.

Her green eyes met Encrid's.

A brief silence ensued.

After a moment, the company commander tilted his head and spoke.

"You're alive?"

There was a note of surprise in his question.

[T/L: Please support me here: /revengerscans ]