Eternally Regressing Knight

Lykanos watched as the advance of the heretics was halted.

There was a man fighting a direwolf with nothing but his bare hands, making it impossible not to notice him.

Krhh!

The man took the direwolf’s front paw with his chest, but—

“Hahaha! This is refreshing!”

What kind of body was this man made of, that even after taking the paw of a monster, only scratches and bruises remained?

Though his body was bruised yellow, it looked strangely normal, too.

Normally, he’d be a bloody mess.

Anyway, after enduring the monster’s front paw, the man retaliated with his own paw.

Thud!

“Is that refreshing!”

What exactly is refreshing about that?

It was simply fascinating to see the monster stagger after being hit.

‘Is this guy insane?’

He wasn’t the only one. The heretic group’s advance was chaotic.

They couldn’t even engage in proper combat.

What could be the reason? Lykanos sensed it.

There was a problem with their command.

While the heretics were a problem, the opposition was no less formidable.

There was that Enkrid, who had never been killed.

And there were swordsmen who could single-handedly slaughter their own unit, slicing and dicing.

‘That guy’s not weak either.’

They had clashed once, and no matter how he looked at it, he was not inferior. Could the fastest sword hit him?

Lykanos had wondered, but there was no desire to test it out.

No, whether it landed or not, he didn’t want to share his last sword with that person.

Was this the selfishness of the end?

Or perhaps the warrior’s fighting spirit he had long ignored?

‘What good would it do to dwell on it?’

He hadn’t expected his end to come like this.

“Let it end with just the two of us.”

Lykanos spoke, addressing Enkrid, who had stepped aside.

The blonde opponent didn’t seem unpleasant to him, but he wanted to choose his own end.

‘The one who first blocked my sword.’

The one who had caught up to his fastest sword was still in his mind.

He had set out to kill him, and the failure to do so was the first.

No, it was the second time. But the first to evade was a knight, wasn’t it?

That’s why it felt like the first time.

The knight, however, was an exception.

Enkrid simply stared at him.

He saw the man rise on unsteady legs, gripping his sword several times before finally holding it tight again.

What did that posture, that attitude, reveal?

It was the image of a human who neither retreated nor gave up.

‘I shouldn’t have left it to my subordinates from the start.’

That was his mistake.

‘Let’s fight.’

It wasn’t a strong desire to kill Enkrid, but simply a desire to face him once again.

His fighting instincts, the youthful spirit he thought he had forgotten, were suddenly awakened.

A genius, they said?

If so, then take on the sword I’ve built. Let’s compete in speed.

That was all.

Lykanos’ eyes shone brightly. Like a twinkling star. They were not the eyes of a man who had given up.

Having regained his breath, Enkrid gripped his sword once more. Finally, he felt at ease. It was a small preparation.

“Very well.”

Enkrid did not refuse. There was no reason to.

Both of them were eager to fight again.

As Enkrid moved forward, Ragna cleared his way by cutting down the surrounding enemies, ensuring no one could approach.

That was enough.

Enkrid stood with a limp. His legs were already far from normal.

Lykanos, however, wasn’t in perfect condition either.

He had rushed to block Ragna’s sword and had taken a hit to his right shoulder.

Blood was flowing from the wound.

The two faced each other.

Snowflakes began to fall between them, and the snow on the ground thickened.

“Got something good wrapped around your belly?”

Lykanos asked. Enkrid nodded.

The same thing that had stopped his stomach from being pierced several times was wrapped around him.

Lykanos nodded, contemplating.

‘The target is set.’

He dropped his arms and would strike with explosive strength, aiming for one point—one perfect spot. He would finish it with the best possible angle.

Finish? Is that really the end? Winning and then dying? Looking at it now, his opponent didn’t seem all that impressive.

Then, should his life end here? Why must it end?

Lykanos changed his mind.

‘After I finish, I’ll live.’

He hadn’t considered this to be the end, which was why he was here. His will to live, what he had accomplished, what he still had to do, the things left behind, and what would be his in the future.

Lykanos’ eyes clouded.

His pure white eyes mixed with the blood and dirt on the ground, becoming murky.

Even so, his spirit remained like a finely honed blade—sharp and keen.

Lykanos also wielded ‘Will.’ His ‘Will’ was focused solely on his arm.

The moment the power in his outstretched arm was infused with will, that was when his fastest sword came to life.

Realizing he was ready, Lykanos swung his sword back and forth.

The strange, pendulum-like motion drew attention.

Enkrid was slightly different from usual.

‘How fast was it?’

There was a time when Rem’s axe had appeared like a beam of light.

However, his opponent’s sword was faster than that light, piercing his body in the blink of an eye.

That was probably why his right arm wasn’t functioning properly.

Enkrid suddenly recalled the moment he had saved the child.

He had decided to become an herbalist.

It was his skill, hidden behind his true intentions, that had saved the child.

Now, should he be the same?

No, that wasn’t it.

He didn’t want that. Enkrid wanted to face off with the sword.

He wanted to face his sword against the fastest sword.

‘The fast one.’

He wanted to take it in, realize it, and master it.

Today’s repetition was evident.

It was like chasing and capturing two rabbits that had fled in the opposite direction.

Now was the moment to catch the second rabbit.

The heart of the beast raced. The instant he recognized his opponent’s speed, his tense muscles relaxed.

It was possible only because confidence had settled in.

With the appropriate strength in his arm and hand, he gently gripped his sword, aiming it forward.

The tip of his longsword rose diagonally from below, piercing the sky.

Next was the sense technique. He layered his intention onto the sense of evasion. The will he needed to focus on now was to thrust, and only that.

With his focused concentration, the moment his sword swung, it would explode in its use.

The body he had formed through the Isolation technique was the foundation for all of this.

Enkrid recognized all of it and then forgot it.

He cleared everything from his mind, leaving only the opponent in front of him.

Who he was, who the opponent was, what it was for—none of that mattered.

Only the fastest sword remained.

Whoosh.

The wind pushed forward. Faster than the approaching wind, the sword had already reached just before his opponent’s throat.

Thwack!

The sound of flesh being pierced erupted, and Enkrid collapsed as if he were crumbling.

As he fell to the ground, the ferryman appeared like a mirage.

The ferryman, his upper body floating in the air through the snow, asked,

“Is it fun?”

A smile had already spread across Enkrid’s face.

At the moment of his final strike, he had felt something akin to rejection.

That was the will, ‘Will.’

This time, the ‘Will’ didn’t reside in his arm. This ‘Will’ resided in the moment.

For just an instant, it flowed from his toes, through his knees, waist, shoulders, elbows, and into his fingertips.

Just that one moment. Enkrid’s sword was faster than Lykanos’.

***

Graham did not spare his body even against the assassin’s ambush. He did not retreat from the battlefield, displaying his courage.

“Don’t fall back!”

In the middle of it, Dunbakel had barged in, overturning the battlefield, while Shinar hunted down the enemy mercenaries’ leaders.

It was in the midst of the chaos that they struggled.

“Over there, the enemy commander.”

The escort, who wore a helmet, spoke, and behind him, the enemy commander could be seen.

Enkrid stood before him as well.

The two faced each other, with Ragna still fighting and cutting through the enemies around them, but the atmosphere between the two immediately drew attention.

Graham stopped his attack on the enemy, pausing.

Neither was swinging their swords, nor had either pressed their blades against each other’s necks.

But the moment their eyes met, sweat appeared on Graham’s palms.

The tension made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

The sweat running down his face felt cold.

The snow falling around them was no longer visible. Graham unconsciously focused, watching the two of them.

The soldiers watching them were in a similar state.

It was like a storm, sucking in every gaze around them.

It was the ‘Will’ of the two that had created this moment, but few would understand the reason behind it.

‘Ah,’

Graham felt an ominous feeling. The enemy commander’s sword was that terrifying.

‘He’s going to die.’

He could almost see Enkrid’s death in front of him.

Though Enkrid had not moved yet, once the enemy commander did, it was certain that Enkrid would be pierced in the neck. It was clear.

‘No!’

He had to stop it.

He wasn’t the one who was supposed to die here. There was no need to risk his life in this fight. There was no need for it.

Naturally, Graham never had a chance to intervene.

The enemy commander and Enkrid moved suddenly, without any apparent signal or indication to start.

Their swords crossed.

No, they had passed each other. Graham did not blink, but he could not see how their swords had met their purposes.

It started and ended in an instant.

The process was unseen.

But the result was clear.

“Ah.”

Graham let out a breath of astonishment.

Graham was just as surprised. It was completely unexpected, and mixed with that shock was a sense of relief.

He could see Lykanos falling.

However, Enkrid wasn’t unscathed either. He too was bleeding heavily from his neck. But calmly, he applied pressure with one hand to stop the bleeding and rotated his neck to show that he was still fine.

‘Good!’

Without thinking, Graham slapped his own thigh with his fist.

“Madman Commander!”

“Ugh, the Commander of Pain!”

The soldiers watching, as well as Graham’s own guard, cheered with what could almost be considered a victory shout.

Everyone’s hearts were full.

They had won!

Graham thought the tide of battle had shifted in their favor.

It was over.

Perhaps it was natural to feel complacent. No, Graham hadn’t become complacent. It was the guards who had let their guard down.

Boom!

Suddenly, the ground behind Graham exploded.

Three assassins, who had been hiding underground, emerged.

Whoosh.

The three assassins immediately lunged toward Graham’s back.

Of the three, only one achieved his goal.

Thud!

The three sprang from the ground at once, but two of their necks were severed by a sword that resembled leaves.

Where had it come from? The sword swung through the air, its leaf-shaped blade cutting through the air, instantly decapitating two of the assassins.

“Complacency is forbidden.”

The Fairy Company Commander spoke as she swung her sword.

She had been staying near Graham at Krais’s request.

The fairy had done her job.

However, the third assassin was persistent. He stretched his arm toward the fairy’s sword. Though one of his arms was severed, he used his remaining hand to thrust a short spear into Graham’s back.

Thwack!

It was a spear with poison on the tip.

“Dammit.”

Graham gritted his teeth and staggered back.

Though it wasn’t a fatal wound, it was deep enough.

“For the new world.”

The assassin muttered his final words, and Shinar swiftly swung her leaf sword.

The fairy’s sword, shaped like a leaf, severed the assassin’s neck.

Lykanos watched the entire scene from where he lay.

He sensed death was approaching.

The reasons, the circumstances, and the process of how he got here did not come to mind.

All that was left was regret.

‘Brother.’

He thought to himself.

His mouth couldn’t form words, for the hole in his neck silenced him.

Lying on the ground, watching the subordinate who had stabbed the enemy commander and died, he naturally gazed up at the sky. It was snowing heavily, and the white snow was soon stained red with blood. Everything around him began to turn a shade of crimson.

As he died, Lykanos recalled a moment from his past.

“If you’re going to be a thief, then be a thief who steals a kingdom. We’ll create a new world. We will steal freedom.”

Was he meant to sacrifice his life just because he was born a serf?

Was it only natural to be oppressed for having nothing?

Was it right to have everything taken by the powerful?

If that was the case, then he too would live the same way.

“We will be kings.”

The thieves who stole the throne.

The beginning of the Black Blade Thieves.

Lykanos thought as he faced his end.

‘Is this the world we wanted, Brother?’

The change had been quick. They had gained power, Krona, and control.

They had stolen the throne and promised a new world.

But the vow to ensure no one else would suffer the same pain had long since disappeared, dissipating like snow melting away.

As Lykanos lay dying, he saw a glowing door through the falling snow.

The door opened, and his younger sister, along with his parents, who had died when he was young, appeared.

His sister had been taken by the lord after failing to pay her taxes, and his parents had been killed by bandits simply because they had nothing.

They all greeted him, blood dripping from their eyes and noses, as they appeared to him.

It was too late. “Son, it’s too late.”

They welcomed him to hell.

Lykanos’s eyes closed.

Beneath where his family stood, he saw the place he would go. A river of dark red flowed beneath the glowing door.

He let himself be carried by the river to hell.

The river of blood, swelling and flowing beyond the door, greeted him.