A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Two giants stood before him.

Enkrid kept walking forward.

Ziba, the Blade Dancer, the joking woman, Hira, Rem, Owl, the things the Westerners had shown him, the jokes they’d told—

All of it came to mind as he walked.

Is it worth protecting?

Yes, he thought so.

“You’re all gonna get eaten!”

One of the giants roared with a thunderous voice.

Enkrid didn’t stop walking. He didn’t take his eyes off the giants either.

Can you gauge their strength just by looking?

No.

Then did he feel like he’d lose?

No. Absolutely not.

Enkrid didn’t feel any possibility of defeat. Not even a little.

Among the tribe, these two were called monsters—giants who fought the best.

Some Westerners showed fear when they spoke of them; others forced themselves to muster courage.

Enkrid felt their eyes on him.

Their gazes, their attention, their worry—all brushed against his back. He felt them.

Their concern still lingered in their eyes. It filled his view.

Because of the giants, he couldn’t see the rest of the West clearly.

“Isn’t it dangerous alone?”

Shouted the same Western man who had once shown hostility—no, the one who had feelings for Ziba’s mother.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it wasn’t.

He didn’t know.

But he felt like he could do it.

And he wanted to.

“One’s not enough.”

One of the giants said, looking at Enkrid.

He was being treated as prey. Despite wearing a sword and walking right toward them, they still saw him as food?

They had no eyes, clearly.

Enkrid raised his head and met the giant’s gaze.

There was nothing there but hunger and greed.

They were no different from beasts.

It would be fair to call them monsters.

Ping.

He released the clasp on his scabbard with his thumb and drew Acker.

The blade revealed itself in the warm sunlight.

“Don’t interfere.”

Enkrid spoke. The words were for Rem, who was following behind.

Rem furrowed his brow.

“You’re going?”

“I’ll win. On my own.”

“I think the stronger and better fighter should go.”

Enkrid didn’t respond to the word “you”—instead, he gave a different answer. A declaration of firm resolve.

“...You’re out of your damn mind.”

Rem muttered.

Right now, Enkrid stood ahead of Rem.

The two giants had reddish-tinted skin.

Enkrid found himself curious about the color of their blood.

As he kept approaching, he suddenly stopped.

It was the perfect range for the giant to crush him with a swing of its club.

Enkrid hadn’t slacked on his training even after the battle with Oara.

Rem had been his sparring partner. Lua Gharne had helped.

Even Dunbakel sometimes stepped in as a training opponent.

Enkrid stayed the same.

He repeated the same things: training and drills.

All of it, layered over time, had allowed a small flower bud to blossom inside him.

What he’d learned from Knight Oara, what she had left him, the fruits of all that repetition—

It all came together.

The petals of that bud began to unfurl.

“Just the two of you?”

Enkrid asked as he raised his sword.

Some people found joy in peace.

Others shattered it.

And what stood before Enkrid were those who shattered peace—

Those who threatened the West, the people, life itself.

Lua Gharne instinctively gripped the hilt of her Loop Sword.

What is this?

Enkrid looked the same as always. No—he didn’t.

He swung his sword. A long, downward slash.

It seemed to strike empty air—

But no, at the end of that arc appeared the top of the giant’s foot.

The giant had tried to kick Enkrid, just like that.

Which meant Enkrid had swung preemptively toward where that foot would land.

A feat of reading movement and muscle tension in advance.

Whip! Ting!

Acker’s blade glided cleanly across the top of the giant’s foot.

It cut and skimmed past it.

The giant, enraged, swung a fist toward the dodging Enkrid.

Enkrid showed the Green Frog Sword and shifted to the side.

He feinted a weight shift to the left—then leapt right.

Boom!

The punch smashed the earth instead.

The ground split. Dust exploded upward. Dirt and rocks scattered in all directions.

“You little—!”

The difference in level was clear.

Giants didn’t know discipline, training, or effort.

They were just born different. That’s why they were strong.

Surviving this long and boasting loudly was proof of that.

The heavy punch had altered the terrain.

Beyond the gouged hole, a thin line drew through the rising dust.

Lua Gharne narrowed her eyes.

A curved line?

The curving line drew out like thread.

The Frokk’s eyes fixated on its nature.

Acker.

It was Enkrid.

The sword he had swung.

A silent slash, like Oara’s strikes.

The long, seamless breath of his cut traced a line through the giant’s forearm, shin, and waist.

Splash!

A deep gash tore through the giant’s waist, spraying blood.

Even the hide wrapped around its side was useless.

Acker was sharp.

And in the hands of one who had mastered circular movement, it was lethal.

Though the dust still swirled, it wasn’t hard to spot Enkrid within it.

Two blue lights could be seen.

Their owner, with blue-violet eyes, stepped on the giant’s foot, launched off its knee, and soared upward.

“You brat!”

The giant screamed, flailing its hand forward in a frenzy.

It even dropped its club.

“I’ll help you!”

The other giant rushed in, swinging an open palm.

The wounded brute, now with Enkrid climbing up its chest, tried to clap his hands together to crush him.

Clap!

Of course, it missed.

The clap meant to catch him echoed loud—

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

And the giant running in from the side ended up slapping his own comrade square in the chest.

Thud!

“Argh!”

The giant screamed in pain.

By then, Enkrid had already stepped onto its shoulder and leapt behind it.

He didn’t just pass over—

As he vaulted across its back, he drew his Gladius and scored it across the beast’s spine like marking a wall.

Drrrrrrrk—!

“Aaaaaargh!”

The giant howled in speech.

Blood ran from its waist, legs, forearm, and back—thick, dark purple.

The giant dropped to one knee and swung its right arm wildly.

The second one, realizing what was happening, grabbed its own comrade by the torso and slammed him diagonally across the back.

Whoooom!

A gust blew the dust away.

Enkrid was already gone from the spot.

The club-wielding giant struck air.

With a snap, the giant that had fallen to its knees now had a freshly crushed nose.

That new nose had a name: Acker.

Enkrid pulled the blade that had pierced from jaw to skull clean through.

Crack! Bone shattered as the sword exited. Blood poured out.

Dark purple blood gushed down from its face,

And the giant’s body tilted forward.

Boom.

One of them fell, headfirst, crashing to the ground.

The giant collapsed face-first, like Ziba’s mother had knelt—but one had done so in gratitude, the other had become a corpse.

“What are you?”

The remaining giant roared.

Was this someone worth talking to?

No.

Enkrid swung his sword again.

Lua Gharne, being Frokk, didn’t sweat.

Instead, she continuously shifted her stance, her eyes darting about.

A knight?

No.

But no matter how much she searched through everything she had seen or heard before, this was a first.

He’s not a knight.

If anything, he was somewhere between a knight and a junior knight.

Or rather, the strongest junior knight on the continent.

Not a knight—but not just a trainee either.

He couldn’t use Will at will, but at critical moments, instinctively, his sword strikes burst forth beyond the realm of human limits.

Just now was one of those times.

The way he dodged the giant’s club was something else entirely.

And the speed of his thrust that followed—it was on a different level.

Each time he pierced a point, the same motion repeated.

The giant couldn’t even think to dodge and died just like that.

The remaining giant swallowed his fear and barked,

“Actually, I don’t like how humans taste?”

Enkrid had seen three other giants before—ones who could use their heads.

This one wasn’t among them.

He was just talking nonsense.

“I don’t eat humans. I’m leaving! I’ll just go!”

Sometimes, stories floated around the continent about intelligent giants—but if those giants had been like this one, none of them would’ve survived.

Giants had nothing to do with reputation.

This one simply happened to be more clever than most.

Enkrid raised his arm.

Lua Gharne thought it looked like he was preparing the finishing blow—

But to the giant, it just looked like Enkrid was letting his guard down.

“You trust me? Thanks. I’ve got treasures! I’ll give you treasure!”

As it spoke, the giant took two slow steps forward.

Its steps should’ve been called thunderous stomps, but because its awkward plodding looked so clumsy, it came across like a sneaky shuffle.

It watched for a chance, then suddenly swung the club it had kept hidden behind.

At the same time, Enkrid swung his sword.

The flowing strike carried concussive force.

As his foot lifted, Enkrid’s body slid forward like a blade of wind.

Of all who watched, only Rem recognized what had just happened.

That was the level of the sword technique.

His moving body became a line.

The curve drawn by the sword became a blade that could cut anything.

Crunch.

Muscle, bone, nerves—all sliced clean.

Once again, the club struck nothing but air.

“Grrruk.”

With most of its organs severed and a deep gash running from chest to gut, foaming at the mouth should’ve been the only response.

Yet the giant’s vitality was terrifying.

Even as it staggered back, Enkrid intercepted.

Smash!

Crack!

His sword punched through the top of the giant’s foot—bone burst through flesh. More blood sprayed.

And the giant died.

Silence fell. A deep, heavy quiet.

Enkrid calmly wiped his sword on the fur coat of the dead giant.

The area was drenched in dark purple blood.

Though it was a sun-shield cloud day, that didn’t mean all sunlight was blocked.

Right on cue, as if preordained, the clouds parted.

Light poured down.

Sunlight, more brilliant than ever before.

The chieftain, watching, was on the verge of tears.

The largest tribe in the West had nearly collapsed.

Despair had come in many forms—

An outsider sorcerer, a curse, giants.

Even after breaking the curse, they couldn’t feel relief.

The giants remained.

But now... they were dead.

The very two who had killed, eaten, and trampled the tribe.

The crossbow that had felled them caught the light as its wielder turned—

No, turned and then turned again, showing his back.

His gaze fixed on the lands of the West.

“...I can finally see it now.”

He said, staring out toward the horizon.

The fields beyond were beautiful—

A continuing line of earth and sky, stunning in its expanse.

The chieftain wept.

Because holding back tears wasn’t the Western way.

“Welcome the great warrior!”

The chieftain cried out.

The words spilled forth, steeped in tradition.

It was the highest praise one could offer the savior of the tribe.

“Welcome the warrior!”

Someone echoed the cry.

Hira, awakened and watching, gaped.

She had been surprised watching him fight the twins—

But this? This was something else entirely.

He had crossed a line.

Not just in skill—his ability was monstrous.

The man Rem had brought with him had eliminated the tribe’s greatest threat.

That simple truth sent shivers down Hira’s spine.

“Ahhh...”

Hira let out a strained breath—

The kind she only made when touched by a divine trance.

Some of the shamans trembled.

The warriors who guarded the West clenched their fists.

The Blade Dancer, who knew Rem’s abilities well, also knew—

Rem alone could never have taken down both giants.

That was why he’d put on his armor and gathered his totems.

But now...

There, up ahead, was a man who had not only stood alone—

He’d cut them down without even needing Rem.

“He’s not just a little better than Rem.”

The Blade Dancer muttered.

No—this wasn’t a little.

The difference was staggering.

Though to be fair, that was because he didn’t know what Rem had become.

But even Rem felt the same.

“This is making me antsy.”

Losing to Enkrid didn’t matter.

But this? This wasn’t it.

They’d need magic.

They’d need more.

Enkrid was walking forward, stepping into the unknown,

Using his sword as a staff.

Rem had no intention of just standing by.

And the warrior who had cut down the tribe’s threat,

After gazing out at the horizon, turned back and made a request:

“Some water to wash with, please.”

The giant’s blood felt unpleasant on his skin.

“Savior!”

Someone shouted.

Feverish cheers, blazing heat—

It swept over the entire tribe.

It was burning.

“This is it...”

The Blade Dancer added with a sigh,

“A day when even the Dawn Bird would cry.”

The Dawn Bird does not cry.

It is the one that leads the sun forward.

So if even the Dawn Bird cried—

It meant something unbelievably rare had happened.

Something miraculous.

The Blade Dancer sat down.

Honestly, he didn’t even have the strength to stand anymore.

And then—he started to worry.

“I did ask to spar with him...”

Maybe that hadn’t been such a great idea.