A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

"Let's cut through the grass and track the scout team's trail. How does that sound?"

Upon closer inspection, the scout squad leader's eyes were sparkling as he said this.

A mix of anticipation, confidence, and appropriate tension was visible.

It was a new day.

In conclusion, the escape attempt failed.

Encrid woke up and started his day by reflecting on the previous one.

'Where did it go wrong?'

Maybe going east was the mistake.

'No, it seemed fine up to that point.'

Reviewing the events is Encrid's habit.

While fleeing east, he encountered the crossbow unit again, got shot multiple times, and collapsed.

Lying on the ground, twitching, a bolt struck his head, killing him.

He doesn't want to recall the pain from that moment.

But if he doesn't review it, he will keep dying. That's even worse.

Reviewing and retracing steps to find the problem. Encrid kept thinking.

'I heard it, so I got the first opportunity.'

He caught an unusual sound.

What he learned from Jaxon helped.

Then, The Heart of the Beast helped him to look at the situation calmly.

He had to choose one direction and push through.

He failed, though.

'If I do it again.'

He thinks he can succeed. It was bad luck to run into the waiting unit instead of the pursuing one.

'I just need to find the path again.'

Lost in thought, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

It was Enri.

Encrid thought he was too lost in his thoughts.

"Just take a quick look around and leave it at that, alright?"

He wondered what Enri kept telling him to bear with.

"Your expression doesn't look good."

As Enri spoke, he subtly pointed ahead with his eyes.

Turning his gaze forward, Encrid's eyes met those of a rough-looking soldier trailing behind the squad leader.

Though it seemed like the soldier was glaring, it wasn't to pick a fight.

'He wants me to understand the squad leader, so he must have some sense.'

By now, the soldier was likely thinking about how to properly approach and persuade him.

Judging that it wasn't the right moment to speak, the rough-looking soldier averted his gaze first.

Encrid nodded at Enri in understanding and started walking.

He brushed aside the grass with his hands and stepped forward.

Soon, a familiar scene blocked his view. Tall green grass severely limited his vision.

It was definitely not wise to face an ambushed enemy here. Normally, risking one's life to enter such a place wouldn't be a reasonable choice.

'What if we just didn't enter here in the first place?'

That's not an option.

The purpose and reason for this squad being here is to scout this tall grass field.

What could they say if they ignored that and went back?

That they noticed an enemy ambush even before entering?

Even if they decided to change the scouting direction.

The ten people here wouldn't all agree to that.

There's no avoiding it. This is how most of the newly faced 'todays' have always been.

But if asked whether it was troublesome.

'Not bad.'

Although he had only fought properly once.

Enri had questioned him, wondering how such a low-ranking soldier like him could be there.

The squad leader had belittled himself.

'Real combat.'

Even though it was just one battle, that single experience was valuable.

The Heart of the Beast didn't give him time to panic.

He swung and thrust his sword, exploiting every gap.

He predicted the opponent's behavior patterns and moved accordingly.

He used everything he had learned in between.

Thump.

His heart pounded. It felt like something thrilling was coursing through his body.

'A good opportunity.'

Before setting out on the scouting mission, Rem and Ragna took turns watching and evaluating his swordsmanship.

What he learned from them.

What he realized on his own.

He was able to fully absorb it all.

"Do you see this? The spot where the grass is pressed down?"

"Animal tracks."

Encrid was a man who knew how to use what he learned.

He pretended to know.

Enri looked at Encrid, rolling his eyes before asking,

"Do you have hunting experience?"

He didn't. It was something he learned from Enri.

"I just picked up a few things along the way."

It was something he heard from Enri.

After answering honestly, he continued with trivial chatter.

He quickened his pace slightly and moved forward.

Right behind the squad leader.

Encrid was now assessing the formation of the scout team.

It was something he hadn't paid much attention to before.

The squad leader was at the front, two on the right, two on the left.

Directly behind the squad leader was the rough-looking soldier.

The remaining members followed at the rear, like a rearguard.

'They're not just fools.'

The formation looked reasonable.

If enemies appeared, it was a good formation for responding.

Though against a unit armed with crossbows, the formation wouldn't be of much use.

In the failed attempt, the scout squad leader didn't make foolish mistakes anymore.

He silently followed Encrid's lead.

Moreover, his swordsmanship was quite good.

The rough-looking soldier was a very skilled fighter.

'At least mid-level or higher.'

By Naurillia's standards, that's how it was.

Both the squad leader and the rough-looking soldier.

Both were quite skilled.

Enri wasn't bad either. Walking with a shortbow in his left hand, he could shoot arrows quickly.

However, that didn't mean he could survive dozens of bolts flying at him.

'Avoid the crossbow unit at all costs.'

Encrid deliberately walked closely behind the squad leader.

Seeing that he was watching the squad leader, the rough-looking soldier didn't engage in conversation.

Rustle. Hiss! Crackle.

He heard the same sound again.

"Duck."

He immediately grabbed the squad leader by the scruff and threw him backward.

Last time, only four survived and escaped.

This time, he intended to save a few more.

"Ugh!"

The squad leader fell backward, letting out something like a scream.

"Enemy!"

The enemy shouted. Soon, bolts came flying.

In the meantime, Encrid kicked the knees of two allied soldiers in succession.

Bolts whizzed over the heads of the fallen soldiers.

Encrid also spread his legs front and back, lowering his body as much as possible.

A startled grasshopper leapt and scurried away in front of him.

Using the tension in his thigh muscles and erector spinae, Encrid sprang up and threw a throwing knife.

With a whizz, the knife sliced through the air.

The knife cut through the empty space, hitting nothing, but it made the enemy flinch momentarily.

A brief gap, but enough.

Smack.

He lightly hit the squad leader's forehead with his elbow as he extended it backward.

"Get a grip."

As he spoke, he sprang forward.

Thud, thud, thud.

He trampled the dirt and grass, drawing his sword. As he drew it, he assumed his stance and thrust with one hand.

'Full force.'

He aimed to pierce through completely, but he couldn't afford to let his muscles lose strength after the thrust. How to thrust with full force while conserving strength?

"You need a feel for it. How can you get a feel? Keep doing it. You'll get it eventually."

That's what Rem had said during their sparring.

Encrid was now embodying that lesson in this very moment.

Thump!

The tip of his sword pierced through the enemy's chest.

He twisted and withdrew it.

The blade, which had split muscles, nerves, and heart, was pulled out.

Feigning a horizontal slash, he closed the distance and swung his foot, kicking the shin of another enemy.

This enemy was just about to aim his crossbow.

"Ugh!"

The struck soldier involuntarily lowered his head, and Encrid smashed the back of his head with the pommel.

Crunch!

The action felt like striking through a poorly made leather helmet with a blunt weapon.

He could feel the sensation of splitting solid greenwood through his hand.

Having taken down the second enemy, he saw another one charging at him, wearing thick cloth armor and wielding a large round shield.

Ping, ping, ping!

Enri fired three rapid arrows.

However, the arrows couldn't penetrate the armor.

No blood oozed from the impact points. One poorly lodged arrow wobbled and then fell to the ground.

In his haste, Enri hadn't fully utilized the bow's draw strength.

Encrid quickly switched his sword to his left hand and swung.

Clang!

The edge of his blade met the rim of the shield, sending sparks flying.

He dented the shield frame, but the impact also numbed his hand.

"Argh!"

The enemy roared, bringing his weapon down on Encrid's head.

Thump.

A moment of carelessness could lead to death here.

Panic meant death.

That's what the battlefield was.

The Heart of the Beast shone in moments like these.

It provided a calm composure in the heart of battle.

With his thick muscles doing their job, Encrid could see the exact trajectory of the descending shield.

"Watch carefully, dodge skillfully."

It was Rem's teaching.

Observe and evade.

"There are no unnecessary parts of the sword. From the handle to the tip, use it all."

This was Ragna's teaching.

Encrid carefully observed and retreated at the last possible moment.

Whoosh—the shield brushed past his nose, the wind from it causing his hair to flutter.

"Huff, huff!"

The enemy, having slammed down his shield, gathered strength in his muscles and raised it again.

Rough breaths could be heard from behind the shield.

Through the sound of his breathing and the movement of his shoulders, it was clear the enemy was tense.

He peered over the shield, eyes fixed on Encrid.

Striking the shield would only prolong the fight.

Encrid reversed his grip on the sword, so the handle was up and the blade down.

In this reversed grip, he rotated his waist and knees, swinging with all his might.

The move was executed before the shielded enemy could react.

Whish, thunk!

The tip of the sword's blade lodged into the enemy's eye.

Blood burst from the eye, mingled with clear fluid.

"Argh!"

The now one-eyed soldier screamed.

Thanks to gripping the blade, Encrid drew a short sword with his bloody hand.

He then plunged it into the neck of the frenzied, one-eyed enemy and pulled it out.

Thwack!

Blood spurted in sync with his movement. Gurgling, blood-foaming from his neck, the shielded soldier collapsed to the ground.

"This way!

It was a series of brutal scenes.

Everyone was stunned, their mouths agape, staring at Encrid.

How many had he taken down in such a short time?

Encrid retrieved the sword that had pierced the enemy's eye.

Blood coated the handle of the sword, sticky and thick.

He wiped it off as best as he could and kept moving.

This time, six had followed him.

He had saved two more.

"…Who are you?" the scout squad leader, who had stuck close to his side while running, asked.

"Do you really need to ask?"

Running would be better than talking.

Encrid continued running east.

He continued to knock down and kill every enemy he saw.

This time, he had ventured even deeper.

'I chose the wrong direction.'

He was certain it wasn't the east.

This time, they encountered fifty spearmen.

Fifty trained spearmen made up a platoon.

The three of them couldn't handle it.

They lost the rest on the way, leaving only the scout squad leader and the rough-looking soldier.

"Unlucky," the rough-looking soldier said.

"Damn it," the scout squad leader muttered, looking around with a grimace.

Encrid said,

"I'll take five with me."

He steeled himself and charged.

From the enemy's perspective, he must have seemed insane.

Charging at fifty spearmen?

To the spearmen, he was clearly a madman.

Unless he was a knight or part of a knightly order.

What was this?

Watching him use his sword, it was clear he could fight, but he wasn't exceptional.

At best, he might be called a skilled soldier.

There was no way charging recklessly at fifty spearmen could look sane.

Encrid charged and killed three spearmen.

Then he was impaled by a spear in the abdomen and died.

It was, of course, excruciatingly painful.

As he died, he saw a long flag lying behind the group of spearmen. That was his last memory.

* * *

"Let's go this way. If we kill the enemy beyond the grass, it's a great achievement, right? Or maybe capturing them would be better?"

Listening to the squad leader's words, Encrid reflected on the day once more.

Reviewing.

'There's no clear path to the east.'

Then this time, it's north.

Actual combat was great nourishment.

Even Rem and Ragna, who got along so poorly, agreed on this.

Didn't Jaxon also say the same?

The best way to train the senses is to fight with your life on the line.

He said that in the moment of death, a person's concentration shatters its limits.

Encrid was proving that statement with his own body.

'I've improved.'

It's neither arrogance, nor overconfidence.

Objectively speaking, his skills had significantly improved.

And he was still improving.

In the repeated 'today', Encrid died nine more times in the north.

Six more times in the east.

And twelve more times in the west.

The battles continued.

Skill improvement doesn't happen overnight. That's unavoidable.

But one can take steady steps forward calmly.

Encrid felt elation once again.

Because he was still growing.

Because today was better than yesterday.

"Argh!"

Thwack!

During the repetitive days, the spear blade of a rather brave soldier grazed his cheek.

It was a strike that the previous Encrid wouldn't have been able to avoid.

It was much like the thrusting attack of the spearman, but he dodged it.

And he didn't just dodge.

Countless real battles had instilled good habits in Encrid.

As he dodged, he brought his sword down from above.

A vertical strike.

Thud.

And at that moment, Encrid felt a strange sensation.

He had brought down his sword, but there was no sensation left in his hand.

No, it was too faint.

He had clearly cut through the enemy's arm, but it felt like slicing through a rotten branch.

It was that easy.

Meanwhile, the enemy's arm was cleanly severed, flying through the air.

He didn't even hear a sound.

A perfectly clean strike.

The kind of strike often described as having no feeling in the hands.

The kind of strike executed countless times by those called geniuses.

"Ah."

Encrid was so astonished that his concentration broke for a moment.

It was the first time he experienced this in battle.

He could fully feel the weight of the sword in his hand.

The thrilling sensation left in his hand made him feel ecstatic.

"Ha, really."

He was too excited.

He laughed, covered in blood. He couldn't suppress his laughter from the overwhelming satisfaction.

"You crazy bastard!"

From the enemy's perspective, he was nothing short of a crazy bastard.

In any case, Encrid died countless times.

And he repeated 'today' countless times.

In those repeated days, what he learned through sparring seeped into his body.

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