A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“What’s more fun for you?”

Death due to impaling by arrows? Being strangled and pierced by the sorcerer’s vines? Or getting your entire body torn apart by the Lycanthropes?

The ferryman asked with a laugh. It was a laugh Enkrid could perceive only because the ferryman allowed it. It was oddly fascinating. How to describe it?

It felt as if someone were telling him, “the ferryman laughed,” but without seeing his face or hearing his voice.

He simply knew in his mind that the ferryman was laughing. Hearing the question, Enkrid answered.

To the black river, to the boat, to the ferryman.

He didn’t even know if his answer was meant for the ferryman, the boat, or the river itself.

But he could speak, so he did.

“Arrows are the best option.”

Better than being torn to pieces by Lycanthropes or strangled by the sorcerer’s vines, at least.

“...Go mad. Go mad and entertain me.”

Was it his imagination, or did the ferryman seem momentarily speechless? Enkrid wasn’t mad at all. Not even close. He just hadn’t needed to think about it and gave an immediate answer.

“I was just being logical.”

“You crazy bastard.”

The ferryman started with a laugh but finished with a sneer.

Then again, it was as if someone were telling him this. Whether the ferryman was truly angry or not, he couldn’t know. He simply understood that he was irritated.

And that was the end of it.

A dark veil was drawn over the black river. When he closed and opened his eyes again, it was dawn, yet the sun had not risen.

The same today, once again. Enkrid rose with ease. There was no heaviness in his body or heart.

Of course, the memory of being torn apart by Lycanthropes, his insides shredded by claws, still lingered in his mind.

“Hoo.”

But he decided to leave that behind with a single exhale. He couldn’t truly forget, but moving his body and swinging his sword would ease the pain.

Enkrid remained calm, in both attitude and mind.

‘Loosen your shoulders.’

Normally, he would have been spending this time frantically thinking of ways to survive and escape today.

But now, he was serene. He felt like a quiet lake. There was something new he had learned.

‘Is struggling the only answer?’

It wasn’t.

Walking toward tomorrow hadn’t changed. However, running at full speed wasn’t always the fastest path. He didn’t need to be the fastest.

‘Three paths.’

He began his usual morning routine, moving his body as he sorted his thoughts.

The beginning was the Ghouls.

‘They were strange.’

They seemed to be acting under someone’s command, or at least they had the experience of doing so.

‘It’s probably the sorcerer.’

The sorcerer he encountered before was on a completely different level from anything he’d dealt with.

‘Ressa of the Thorned Vines.’

That name lingered in his mind.

Could he capture her?

There was no need to ask such a question. He had to capture her. His thoughts then turned to the Lycanthrope pack. He retraced his experiences in reverse.

‘It’s the sorcerer’s handiwork.’

He was certain of it. When they climbed the wall, the sorcerer was there to greet them. When they headed for the doghole, an ambush was waiting.

At the front were elite soldiers armed with large shields and long spears, and behind them, a unit of archers blocked the way.

It was a perfect trap.

‘There’s no way they didn’t already know.’

Whatever had happened, the enemy had already read their movements.

So, was there a traitor?

If there were, it would have been obvious when the Lycanthropes attacked. The information might have leaked through other means.

It was the kind of situation the ferryman would laugh at. All three paths were blocked, each one a dead end. It wasn’t a wall he could break through with mere training.

‘Unlucky, isn’t it?’

How was it that he kept ending up in these situations, dying over and over?

But...

Did bad luck change anything?

No.

Enkrid remained the same. Steadfast. His mind unshaken.

Clatter.

He tied the leather strap on the handle of his sword again. It marked the beginning of a new today.

Enkrid mentally divided the morning into segments and began to move accordingly. After training in the Isolation Technique, he practiced his swordsmanship.

Then, he continued his practice with the Hidden Knife.

“Care for a spar?”

He asked Finn, training his Valaf-style Grappling.

“Why so rushed today? You seem more urgent than usual.”

Torres spoke as he prepared his gear, tucking away the many knives hidden in his outfit. Enkrid saw him fastening a belt with eight knives and replied.

“Just doing my best every day.”

“You’ll wear yourself out.”

His body wasn’t so easily worn out by something like this.

“Shall we head out?”

Finn said, signaling that it was time to move after finishing her morning spar with Enkrid.

Not wanting to leave drenched in sweat, Enkrid quickly changed clothes and followed them.

As they made their way, Finn mentioned that spotting the Azpen Scouts wasn’t easy. It was something he had heard before.

As they cut through the undergrowth, Finn noticed some berries that looked quite tempting and remarked on them.

“Those are poisonous.”

“Gotta be careful then.”

Enkrid answered immediately.

“You’re a strange one.”

“What do you mean?”

Torres, busy cutting through the bushes with a knife, joined in.

“You act like you know things. Almost like you’ve been here before.”

Was that her female intuition or her ranger instincts?

“This is my first time.”

“Talk more casually.”

“Alright.”

Would she start with those trivial jokes again?

During the first repetition, she had.

Fortunately, Finn didn’t bring it up this time. Instead, she just glanced at Enkrid with a peculiar expression. Even when today repeated, not everything happened the same way.

Small things tended to change. They arrived at the entrance to the doghole.

“How deep does this go?”

Just before entering, Enkrid asked.

“Hm? If we walk briskly, it won’t take more than an hour.”

“I see.”

“Why ask?”

“I was curious.”

“Afraid of the dark? Don’t worry, big sis will hold your hand.”

“That’s not it.”

Finn chuckled before speaking again.

“The Ranger goes first.”

They descended into the path shielded by the ridge. Just like before, things unfolded the same way.

Enkrid gave no warnings or instructions to the others. Instead, he simply remembered everything that would happen.

“What do you do if you’re surrounded?”

He had never asked this question of any squad member before. Which meant he had never been taught the answer. But through experience, he had learned one thing.

You avoid getting surrounded. If you can, that’s what you do. But what if you can’t avoid it?

That was something to think about now. Enkrid was searching for an answer.

“Here they come!”

The enemy appeared. A unit armed with spears and shields. There were at least two squads. A few torches flared up, lighting the area in front of them.

Creeeak.

As if waiting for their cue, another group armed with short bows moved to block the rear.

‘Another twenty, at least.’

Turning back to the front, he saw the officer leading them. Peeking through the shields, the man wore a steel helmet that covered his forehead, revealing only his eyes.

Faintly, Enkrid could see something resembling excitement in his gaze. As if he was savoring the situation.

“You wildcat bitch.”

The officer snarled.

“Damn.”

Finn glanced back and forth before pulling out her knife in a reverse grip, lowering her stance.

Her left hand was raised in front of her face, while her right hand was pulled back, hiding the knife from view. She looked like a wildcat hiding its claws.

Torres, meanwhile, quietly moved to the shadow cast by the torches. Some of the archers’ eyes followed Torres’ movements.

‘Sharp vision.’

These were well-trained soldiers. Of course, that made sense. Once you were caught in this trap, it was over.

Unless you were a knight, there was no way out. Finn and Torres were both formidable. That is, if they weren’t in a cave, and if they weren’t blocked from both sides...

‘Then maybe we’d stand a chance.’

But it was not so. They could resist, but they would die. Just as the officer was about to bark out a command—

“Hold on.”

Enkrid raised his left hand, palm out. He hadn’t drawn his sword. It was a gesture showing he had no intention of fighting.

“They don’t seem like the type to talk things out.”

Torres muttered. Finn, however, kept her deadly gaze fixed forward.

“What is it?”

The officer asked, confident in their victory. That was why he had the luxury to ask. Enkrid needed to close the distance.

Torres was right; they weren’t the kind to negotiate. But all Enkrid needed was a momentary distraction.

Just a little time before the fight broke out, before they charged. There was something he wanted to confirm.

He walked forward, hands still raised, signaling his peaceful intent. As he moved, he studied the soldiers’ gear and clothing, illuminated by the torchlight.

‘Dust.’

A thick layer of dust had accumulated on them. It was an hour’s walk from the hole to here.

That much dust wouldn’t have settled on them in just one day.

‘They haven’t just been waiting today.’

This question was only meant to confirm what he already suspected.

“How many days have you been waiting?”

“...What?”

The officer’s voice faltered, a hint of surprise slipping through. That was all the confirmation Enkrid needed.

‘They weren’t sure when we’d come, but they waited anyway.’

Why? What made them lie in wait like this?

He was curious, but now wasn’t the time to be asking questions. The result was what mattered. The fact that they had been waiting here for days.

“You hid your presence well.”

Enkrid spoke again. Every word was intended to probe the officer. The officer, of course, had no idea.

“You bastard. Who the hell are you? Are you a sorcerer too?”

Had a sorcerer been involved here as well? Just who was this Ressa of the Thorned Vines, really?

“Ah, so it’s Ressa then.”

Enkrid decided to take it one step further.

“...Shit, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re dead.”

That was as far as the conversation went. The soldiers charged, and arrows and spears flew toward Enkrid, Finn, and Torres.

With a gesture, the officer ordered his troops forward and withdrew from the fray.

Finn clearly wanted to kill that officer, but she had no way to break through the enemy's shields and spears.

This wasn’t the kind of place where her specialties would shine. In a situation like this, her abilities only seemed average.

Torres, on the other hand, was different. He pushed off the wall, moving unpredictably, then flicked his hands in mid-air.

Four throwing knives flew from his hands. Even Enkrid couldn’t track their exact trajectory. It was one of Torres’ secret tricks.

Thud, thud.

But it wasn’t enough.

Both the archers and the soldiers at the front raised thick leather-covered shields to guard their entire bodies.

‘If he was going to aim, he should have gone for their toes.’

That was as far as things went. Putting the idea of climbing the wall aside, Enkrid decided to execute the plan he had prepared.

Facing a unit of elite soldiers. Not just a few, but a large group of them. This was an unfamiliar experience for Enkrid.

When had he ever been targeted by a large number of soldiers weaker than him?

Not once.

He had only ever faced opponents equal to or stronger than himself. In that time, he had expanded his swordsmanship skills.

He had killed the Piercing Pervert and cut down Mitch Hurrier. He had even been hunted by assassins.

This experience, however, was his first.

A fight against an organized military unit, with himself in the minority. On a battlefield, you could use the presence of nearby allies to your advantage. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Here, there was no such opportunity.

‘In that case...’

Could this actually be a chance to improve his skills? With that thought, he muttered to himself:

“This could be fun.”

“You crazy bastard.”

The spearman who was thrusting his spear at Enkrid wore a horrified expression.

Facing someone who laughed and muttered to himself about fun, blood streaming from his mouth as he was about to die, must have been unsettling.

But Enkrid paid no mind to that.

All he was focused on was testing out different strategies.

‘A single point of focus and blade precision isn’t enough.’

If his field of view narrowed while facing multiple enemies, it was over.

If he slashed and crushed like he did against the Ghoul horde or the pack of wolf-beasts, or when fighting the Dog-Faced Man-Eaters, what would happen?

‘It won’t work.’

The enemies here weren’t beasts; they were soldiers who used strategy and tactics.

He pondered, calculated.

Just like always. The difference was that now, his shoulders were a little looser than before.

He spent days trying to get through the doghole. When that didn’t work, he went to meet the sorcerer on the wall.

After getting caught in Ressa’s vines countless times, when that failed, he danced with the Lycanthropes under the moonlight.

Of course, those dances always ended in death. However, Enkrid was committed, so he wasn’t in a rush.

He was simply doing his best in every moment. Just because he had loosened his shoulders didn’t mean he was wasting his time.

After forty-two repeats of today, he had mastered the Hidden Knife.

“How... how is that even possible?”

Naturally, Torres stared in disbelief. From his perspective, Enkrid had imitated his secret technique in just one day.

“I got lucky.”

It was an unconvincing excuse, but Torres had no counter-argument.

“One day?”

That was all he could mutter. Showing Torres the Hidden Knife wasn’t going to help him master it any further.

After crossing the forty-second today, and then surpassing the seventieth, Enkrid decided to stop showing off the technique in front of Torres, sparing him further frustration.

Now, he could repeat it alone as much as he wanted.

Each day, he also grew more proficient in Valaf-style Grappling thanks to sparring with Finn, who had mastered the Ael Karaz-style Grappling.

Through endless repetition, Enkrid honed his skills with the Hidden Knife, grappling, fighting the sorcerer on the wall, climbing to strengthen his grip, and dueling with the Lycanthrope pack to refine his swordsmanship.

‘Everything.’

He no longer felt the need to repeat anything. So, what was next?

It was time to move past today and head toward tomorrow.