A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Every day, Enkrid learned the Focus Point technique from Ragna and then charged into real combat. That was Enkrid's repeated today.

There were countless repetitions. Even as he faced death repeatedly, the Focus Point technique seemed just out of reach.

‘Don’t rush’, he told himself.

He shifted his thoughts. First, he would try breaking the flagpole.

When the battle began again, Enkrid pondered how to minimize damage. Thinking and strategizing were among his specialties.

The fog descended again. The Fog of Annihilation. Though Enkrid didn’t know the name of this sorcery, he knew he couldn't succumb to it. Before the fog could fully envelop them and before Rem could shout anything, Enkrid spoke up.

“Everyone, get down!”

They were caught off guard. Even the squad leader ducked at the sudden command.

“Shields up!”

As Enkrid shouted again, his allies reflexively raised their shields. Feeling his left hand empty, Enkrid picked up a shield as well.

Lowering his stance and holding the shield diagonally, he charged forward. Several bolts and arrows thudded against his shield.

The oil-soaked shield did its job well.

‘I should have brought a shield sooner.’

There had been times when he had charged in only to be struck by a bolt or arrow before the fight even started. This had made him adept at dodging while closing the distance.

With these thoughts, he charged forward. From past experience, he knew that to escape the fog’s influence, he had to get close to the enemy.

Enkrid did just that.

As he ran, he suddenly pushed off the ground and threw himself to the left.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Spears slashed through the air where he had been. He had memorized the pattern. Creating a life-threatening situation wouldn’t help him achieve the Focus Point. He had to struggle desperately.

Enkrid resolved to do just that. Dodging the spear, he rushed right up to the enemy.

Finally, he saw the enemy beyond the fog. The surprised face inside a rounded leather helmet was visible. Enkrid kicked the ankle of the startled enemy.

“Ugh!”

As the soldier lost balance and fell, Enkrid struck his head with the edge of his shield.

Crack!

It sounded like wood splitting. If the soldier survived, it would be pure luck. Passing by the fallen soldier, Enkrid drew his longsword. As he swung it widely, the three or four enemies who had been closing in were startled. Enkrid quickly mapped out his path in his mind.

He had repeated today over 300 times. He could navigate with his eyes closed. He knew the position of the flagpoles and the enemy formation.

From the enemy's perspective, Enkrid’s movements must have seemed ghostly.

A soldier of the Duchy of Azpen, Ron, was startled by the movements of the charging Naurillia soldier as the fog descended.

Suddenly appearing from the left, cutting down three or four of his comrades, and then disappearing with a flick. It seemed like he had vanished.

In reality, he had just lowered his stance.

“Argh!”

“He’s below! He’s below!”

Ron knew that the fog around him was created by sorcery or magic. Thus, the fog didn’t obscure his comrades' vision. However, in the thickest parts of the fog, visibility was hindered.

So, while he could see above his chest well, the ground was hard to see. The enemy acted as if they knew this.

“Kill him!”

“This bastard!”

Shouts erupted from all sides. The enemy soldier moved as if he had ten bodies. Ron was tense. He was ready to smash the enemy’s head as soon as he appeared nearby.

Tension filled the air.

“Argh!”

“Ugh!”

“Over here!”

The enemy soldier still roamed through the fog on the ground like it was his home.

Ron swallowed hard. It felt like a blade could come at him any moment. He felt the urge to pee. But the enemy didn’t appear for a long time. Just as his tension peaked.

“Break the flagpole!”

A scream came from behind. It was the squad leader’s voice. Ron quickly turned his head.

He saw the squad leader fall forward and an enemy soldier rising from the ground beside him.

The sight of the soldier emerging from the fog resembled a skeleton rising from a grave.

‘Was he alone?’

Had one soldier caused all this chaos through the fog?

The enemy grasped his sword with both hands and swung at the flagpole.

Crack!

With a heavy blow, the middle of the flagpole snapped. The flag tilted and fell.

A moment ago, the flag fluttered in the wind. Now it had lost all of its sound and movement.

Thud.

The fallen flag kicked up a cloud of dust. Through the dust, it seemed as if the enemy soldier tilted his head. That’s how it looked to Ron. Then the enemy soldier moved again.

“Kill him! Kill him!”

Someone, as they were dying, grabbed the enemy soldier’s pants. It was commendable, a move worthy of Azpen’s elite.

Allies swarmed over him like bees. The enemy soldier, with two spears in his left side and five quarrels in his thigh, bled profusely and asked.

“Why isn’t the fog lifting? This is supposed to be the medium of sorcery.”

Instead of the dead squad leader, a squad member sneered.

“You idiot, why do you think there are six flagpoles?”

The squad member spoke without restraint. He was about to die anyway. Knowing wouldn’t change anything.

“Five are decoys, only one is real.”

“Crazy bastard.”

“Why is Focus Point so difficult? Well, nothing has been easy so far.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Focus, focus, focus.”

“Crazy bastard.”

Thwack!

The enemy soldier muttered to himself after asking and getting a response, which Ron couldn’t stand and swung his spear shaft.

The enemy soldier’s head burst open, spraying blood. The stricken soldier twitched on the ground, spewing blood.

“Grr.”

Ron turned away from the frothing soldier. Because of this one man, an entire flag unit failed to complete its mission, but the tide had already turned. It was a decisive victory for the Duchy of Azpen. With this fog, defeat was impossible.

The agony of death filled his entire body. To forget the pain, Enkrid sank into thought.

‘How did I learn the Heart of the Beast?’

The sense of the blade was greatly helped by the assassin. The Heart of the Beast was learned by rolling on the battlefield until the brink of death. But the Focus Point didn’t come easily.

Was the boldness from the Heart of the Beast interfering? That didn’t seem right.

If he had managed it easily in a few attempts, Enkrid would have been an exceptionally talented person. It could have been frustrating, but Enkrid remained calm. He wasn’t anxious. There was no need to be.

‘If it doesn’t work, I’ll keep trying until it does.’

With a firm and resolute heart, he knew neither despair nor frustration.

Death came again, and he opened his eyes in the morning. He steeled himself, surrendering his body to the sun and wind.

“They call it Focus Point. Will you learn it?”

Ragna continued teaching as if following a set path, and Enkrid nodded. He learned and learned again, but he couldn’t understand. While learning the fundamentals of Northern-style swordsmanship from Ragna, he had a small realization.

You have to learn it right the first time.

‘Does the fear of death sharpen your nerves?’

No matter how hard he tried, it felt like an ill-fitting suit.

“How did you learn it?”

“I just did.”

Ragna said kindly.

That made it more annoying. Why was he being kind now?

He preferred it when Ragna was being sarcastic.

“Just?”

“Yes, I focused, forgot everything around me, and soon became one with the sword.”

It wasn’t boastful. His tone was matter-of-fact.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

What was trivial to Ragna was like an unattainable star to Enkrid. Yet, he felt no jealousy or envy. If he had, he wouldn’t have dreamed of becoming a knight. He repeated the process several times. Ragna would stop the sword right in front of his eyes, urging him to feel the fear of death.

In terms of speed, it seemed Ragna was faster than Rem. Watching their fights, Rem seemed faster. The memory of their duel was still vivid in Enkrid’s mind. When facing Ragna, it felt like he was faster. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

“What are you doing? We’re supposed to gather. Are you using the squad leader as practice straw? Are you still upset about losing to me before?”

“Who lost? Your head, maybe?”

Why did these two always fight whenever they met?

“Let’s go.”

Back to the battlefield. Enkrid had learned much through dying. One thing was that five of the six flagpoles were decoys.

‘I just need to aim correctly.’

It was time to test his luck. This time, before the fog even rose, he charged at the approaching enemy.

“...Squad leader?”

He heard Ragna’s surprised voice from behind. Anyone would have thought it was crazy.

“The squad leader’s gone mad!”

Rem shouted. Others murmured, wondering what he was doing, calling him crazy. At that moment, the fog descended.

“What?”

“I can’t see!”

Enkrid shouted as he ran.

“Get down! Shields up!”

Having done it before, he expected them to follow his commands, but the outcome was different this time. His allies were slow to react. Arrows and quarrels flew, ripping through his comrades. The enemy soldiers with spears advanced, and his allies were in a panic.

‘Why?’

The timing was off. They needed a moment to catch their breath after being startled. It was a mistake he knew he made. It was okay. He could fix it next time.

Others might say the goddess of fortune smiled on him or gave him a bag of coins.

Enkrid knew himself well. He wasn’t particularly lucky.

It was the second flagpole he aimed for. It required a fierce battle similar to before. The Focus Point still didn’t come naturally to him. But as he combined the newly honed basics with real combat, his skills improved significantly.

‘Still a long way to go.’

By Enkrid’s standards, Rem and Ragna were the benchmarks. It took him three more repetitions to break the second flagpole. When he finally broke it, the squad leader who had a dagger in his gut coughed up blood and laughed.

“It’s a trick!”

“I know.”

Enkrid nodded with two arrows stuck in his thigh.

“...What?”

“Four left.”

“What?”

“Focus, focus.”

Was his lack of focus the issue?

The Focus Point was challenging. Enkrid ignored the squad leader’s chatter and focused. He deflected the enemy’s spear and swung his sword boldly. The upward slash, much more practiced, split the enemy’s chin.

Crack, split from mouth to nose.

A bolt flew from the side. Thunk, it lodged in his side. Thanks to his armor, he didn’t die, but he hadn’t noticed the five soldiers with crossbows nearby. Around eighty enemies guarded the flagpoles.

Too many for him alone.

‘I need to attack the flagpole and consider my escape route.’

Thinking and strategizing, he surpassed death for the Focus Point and aimed to break the flagpoles. The third flagpole took five more repetitions. The fourth took seven.

‘If I were the enemy commander.’

I would hide the flagpole in the safest place. Before the fog rose, he spent two repetitions scouting the enemy formation.

Finally, he saw it.

A flag unit heavily guarded by the enemy. It was in the deepest part. Enkrid warned his allies without making mistakes and charged. They all got down and raised their shields properly.

“Rem, follow me!”

He called out to Rem.

“What? What are you planning?”

“Just follow!”

He shouted and ran. Rem followed.

“What crazy thing are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Enkrid charged at the flag unit blocking his way with Rem.

“Just the two of you!”

The enemy soldiers roared in anger. Enkrid deftly maneuvered, lowering himself into the fog and pushing the enemy soldiers toward Rem.

“Who is behind this sorcery?”

Rem’s voice was cold as ice as he swung his axe. Looking back, Enkrid saw an enemy’s head fly off with a thud, blood spurting like a fountain.

“Next time, I’ll get the answer from the next one.”

Rem went berserk. Watching this, Enkrid visualized the enemy’s movements. It took five more repetitions to penetrate the innermost flag unit. Five arduous repetitions to finally break through.

Enkrid used his wits. Instead of charging head-on, he approached from the side, lowering his stance and keeping a low profile. He sneaked up to the flagpole.

Then someone blocked his way.

“Am I dreaming?”

The person blocking his path said. Who the hell is this guy?

“By God’s grace, my wish has been granted. I always wanted to kill you myself.”

Enkrid looked at the opponent blocking him and tilted his head. He didn’t remember who he was.

“...You’ve forgotten me in just a few days?”

To his opponent, it had been a few days, but for Enkrid, it had been a year on this battlefield due to the repetitions.

“Sorry, could you introduce yourself?”

Enkrid asked politely, and the opponent’s forehead vein bulged.

“I’m Mitch Hurrier, squad leader of the Duchy of Azpen.”

Even after hearing the name, Enkrid couldn’t recall.

“Alright.”

He nodded, and Mitch glared at him.

“You bastard.”

He drew his sword angrily. As he did, Enkrid’s memory started to surface.

‘Where have I seen him?’

“Wait.”

Enkrid raised his hand to stop him. Mitch paused with his sword pointed.

“What is it?”

“I really don’t remember. Who are you?”

“You’ll remember after taking a few hits!”

Mitch charged. Enkrid drew his longsword to face him.

Clang, clang!

Their swords clashed, the sound of metal ringing out. They locked blades, and Mitch was secretly surprised.

‘This bastard?’

His skill had improved significantly.