A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The gleam in her eyes, the plated hands, the once-armored muscle, the subtle shifts, the raindrops, the wind, even the killing intent drifting through the damp air—

Alexandra absorbed all the necessary data and filed it away in her mind.

It was the same method Enkrid often demonstrated—calculating the surrounding situation and weaponizing it for battle.

But...

‘You’re not the only one good at this, you know.’

Even amidst the raging storm, Alexandra focused solely on the enemy before her.

She shut out everything else, narrowing her perception to just the two of them—herself and her opponent.

That way, she could even negate the Medusa’s petrification curse.

Of course, the curse would still have some effect from outside her perception field.

But she couldn’t exactly go over and slice off the Medusa’s head right now.

So she chose to ignore it.

She cast everything aside and focused with unwavering intensity.

She forgot it was raining. She forgot the wind howled and the storm battered her.

She stepped into a world where only she and her opponent remained.

From the friend who returned from death, there were still remnants of the person she had known in life.

Behind the helmet that oozed black vapor, she could see the long braid of hair.

Andante had always worn long, flowing hair.

It was Alexandra who told her not to cut it, saying it was too beautiful to waste.

After teaching her how to braid it, Andante wore it that way ever since.

‘You really did grow it out for ages after that.’

Later, she’d even hidden blades between the braided strands—though that had just been a joke at the time.

Ssssss...

The black vapor coalesced and seeped into the helmet.

It looked like a ritual just before the start of battle.

Alexandra tightened her toes just slightly more than before.

She and Andante never fought prolonged duels.

They always preferred single-blow duels.

Because of that, Andante had loved their spars when she was alive.

“When I feel close to death, the world doesn’t look so bloody red anymore.”

She said it with a smile, even as her thigh gushed blood from a deep wound.

The red world—Andante sometimes said that’s how she saw the world.

To others it might sound unsettling, but to her, it was a product of a tragic past that had birthed an unbearable craving.

A craving only silenced by taking lives.

That killing intent sharpened into a blade and pierced straight at Alexandra.

The pressure became a jagged, bloody sword that nearly touched her nose.

But Alexandra didn’t budge an inch.

They were two clowns walking a tightrope stretched high on a pole.

‘Let’s end this in one stroke, Andante.’

What do you get when you take a knight and add calamity—and then death?

The answer stood before her now.

Andante would move faster and more dynamically than she ever had in life.

Alexandra didn’t need to cross blades to know that.

Andante had multiple advantages now.

First of all, she didn’t breathe. You couldn’t read a corpse’s breath.

And she no longer needed to warm up her muscles or telegraph her actions—she could unleash her full strength in a flash.

That primal combat instinct was one of the powers granted to the death knight.

The only solace was that her Will wouldn’t have changed.

A knight’s Will doesn’t # Nоvеlight # grow easily—and after death, it doesn’t grow at all.

Only the Will retained from life could be used.

On top of that, her limbs could regenerate quickly.

Which meant the only targets worth striking were her head and neck.

And naturally, the enemy would know that too.

‘She’ll instinctively swing her blade to win.’

On the surface, the two of them simply stood there in stillness.

Neither had drawn their sword.

Their arms hung loose, and their postures were slack.

To a bystander, it might’ve looked like they were about to shake hands.

But death knights aren’t exactly known for their social graces.

CRACK!

A bolt of white lightning split the sky between them.

Even then, neither moved.

After a standoff that could be seen as long or short, it was Alexandra who made the first move.

She bent her knees, kicked off the ground, and lunged.

Before her body had even moved forward, her hand had already gripped her sword.

Blitzkling—they called her “Lightning Blade.”

Because the sword she swung moved as fast as lightning.

She’d never shown this speed even in her spars with Enkrid.

Even with Lynox present, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have hidden techniques she kept from their duels.

Of course she did.

She condensed the Will swirling within her and detonated it all at once.

That explosive force let her break past her own limits for a short moment.

BOOM!

A thunderous roar.

Her blade tore through the air and broke the boundary of time as it reached the enemy.

CLANG!

Andante, now a death knight, responded to Alexandra’s speed.

But she didn’t block it—she thrust back.

Had Alexandra stayed on course, she’d have been stabbed through the gut, leaving only a scratch on Andante’s helmet.

Instead, she accelerated again.

BOOM—

A second blast rang in her ears.

Not a real sound, but a hallucination triggered by the burst of her remaining Will.

Her body twisted sideways mid-charge.

The blade veered into a zigzag pattern and struck the death knight’s helmet.

CLANG!

The helmet split, black vapor billowing out.

Her world turned red.

Warm liquid gushed from her nose, and her legs trembled.

She turned, red tint clouding her vision, and saw the rotten skull inside the cracked helmet.

WHRRRRRRRRR.

Where she had passed, a spiral wind had formed, almost a tunnel carved through rain and storm.

Only now, after a single exchange, did the world reveal the scar of her passage.

“Ghhh...”

A Will-imbued sword—a branded weapon—had split the head.

Even death knights aren’t invincible.

Cut off the head, and they die.

Andante’s final words were “Ghhh...”

Her real last words had likely been heard by Heskal.

“Khak!”

Alexandra shut her eyes, letting the bloody tears wash away in the rain.

She fell to one knee, planting her blade into the ground.

And then she said,

“Andante, if you’re satisfied... then go.”

She had once said she wanted to see a faster sword than now.

Well, now she had.

Two Will detonations—that alone was half-insane.

And she’d done it twice.

The second time, more violently than the first.

Her abdomen throbbed like her insides had torn apart.

Her skull felt like it was splitting.

The pain shook her so hard she thought she might die.

Her guts were twisted, and she couldn’t lift her body.

But it was fine.

She had trained this technique in her youth, and though it had left her unable to bear children, she never regretted it.

She hadn’t birthed a child from her womb, but she had one born of her heart.

And in the end, the technique she’d honed helped protect her home.

‘Still... this is a bit much.’

Even within Zaun, Alexandra’s illness hadn’t been too serious. Just a mild cough.

But now that her body was in this state, the illness stirred too.

A sudden chill overcame her.

It may have been just one sword strike—but that single cut had killed a death knight.

So she had done her part.

The problem was, the battle wasn’t over yet.

‘But my body won’t move.’

Monsters flapped through the air toward her.

And Medusa’s eyes still glared.

The petrification curse she could ignore before was now an oppressive weight.

Alexandra bowed her head to avoid the monster’s gaze.

The spell-serpents still writhed above, and the Medusa hovered over the battlefield, wings flapping, monsters diving at her.

‘This isn’t good.’

As if the brain inside one lizard-beast’s skull was especially small, it boldly lunged at her.

Alexandra looked like she was barely staying upright by leaning on her sword.

The riderless lizard-beast opened its jaws to bite her head.

Alexandra drew and slashed.

Then drove her sword back into the ground.

Her hand moved so fast that no ordinary person could’ve seen it.

SPLAT!

A beast lay sprawled in front of her, upper head cleaved off mid-lunge, jaws still open.

That alone told the tale of what she had done.

‘I said it’s really not good.’

She didn’t even have the strength to speak.

And yet, the number of beasts and monsters around her was growing.

It wasn’t hard to guess why.

‘Tempe.’

He had been held back—despite Lynox being with him.

‘That fox Heskal... this has his stink all over it.’

He had likely planned everything.

Turning Andante into a death knight.

Sending her here.

Who he thought would win between them, Alexandra didn’t know.

But if she died like this, it would tilt the scale a bit toward Zaun’s defeat.

Her senses dulled, and she began to feel the weight of her soaked clothes.

Never a good sign.

‘Somebody take care of that damn snake head already.’

Between the petrification curse and the spell-serpents, it was hell.

One of the scalers who used telekinesis grabbed her sword.

An invisible force clenched around her blade.

And behind her, she sensed a presence.

Her dulled senses didn’t pick up on it until someone was already standing there.

‘This is a mess.’

She broke free from the telekinetic grip and swung her sword behind her.

She had enough strength for one last swing.

If this was the end, she’d swing and shout her husband’s name.

If she was dying, he’d damn well better come finish things.

And if not...

Then she’d die here and haunt his next marriage.

Definitely.

‘So save me, Tempe.’

She measured the distance between her and the figure approaching behind her.

And ripped her sword free of the telekinetic grasp and slashed.

CRACK—WHOOSH—THUD!

Her attack was blocked.

The opponent raised their sword vertically and halted her swing with ease.

Then they stepped in—fast.

Too fast for her to even call out her husband’s name.

***

Enkrid counted the number of arrows floating around him.

From that alone, he could tell—this place had gathered nearly all the monsters with supernatural abilities, especially the exceptional ones.

There were still many monsters capable of using telekinesis, no doubt, but those could be considered fodder at best.

He didn’t need his instincts to confirm it. The evidence was right in front of his eyes.

Without so much as raising a hand, at least five monsters stood still—levitating over a dozen arrows each.

Fifty black-tipped arrows hovered midair, all aimed at him.

Once they started flying, things would get tricky.

Not to mention, those arrowheads were pitch black.

Enkrid would’ve wagered Rem’s left hand that they were poisoned.

“I am Panito, right hand of Lord Heskal.” 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

The owner of the net finally spoke.

Enkrid turned his head to look at him.

The dull gleam of the armored plates gave off a soft glow—an artifact-level treasure in itself.

Kraiss would’ve been drooling over it.

Panito looked convinced that he had Enkrid cornered. That was the posture he took.

Watching that attitude sparked a thought in Enkrid.

‘Just because you’re caught in a net, does that mean it’s over?’

No. It didn’t. A thought surged into his mind in an instant. No—an epiphany. You could even call it a stroke of genius.

‘Mix the Blade of Coincidence with the Tactical Sword.’

Base your calculations on the Tactical Sword—add in flashes of light, and draw coincidence and luck into your control.

Everything exists to gain an advantage. That’s what tactics are for.

His mind, spinning hot enough to boil over, gave him the answer.

And so, Enkrid opened his mouth—like a well-crafted instrument, his voice flowed smooth and deliberate.

“It’s going exactly as planned.”

No. He really was caught.

But if even coincidence could be folded into his intention, then this situation, too, was part of the plan.

“...You anticipated this?”

Panito asked in disbelief.

“Of course.”

Enkrid’s tone was confident.

Compared to Ragna, who could point west and call it north with a straight face, this was barely even mischief.

“Incredible. Enkrid of the Border Guard.”

Enkrid had never met Panito in a duel before.

Some of Heskal’s subordinates were rarely seen due to their duties outside the domain—Panito was likely one of them.

Panito was genuinely stunned, and Enkrid’s mind wandered briefly.

Since he had resolved to fold coincidence into his intent, making it seem so was now a matter of sword tactics.

Tactics are about deception—thus, the Lua Gharne-style Tactical Sword was the sword of illusion.

A small revelation rang through his head.

The Valen-style mercenary sword never explained how to wield a blade.

That’s because it was illusion.

Tactics are built on deceit. If he continued to explore and refine the Tactical Sword, he might see the next path he had to take.

A method of sword training based on deception—no, swordsmanship itself rooted in misdirection.

He couldn’t organize it all right now. It was just a thought he needed to remember for later.

For now, there was the matter at hand.

“You gathered all the elite monsters with supernatural powers here, hoping to kill a single knight and then push your forces into Zaun, didn’t you?”

He said it because he had read the opponent’s intentions.

Once the enemy lays their hand bare, it’s only natural to understand its purpose.

“That’s right. You even foresaw that?”

Panito was apparently not clever enough to hide his surprise. Either that, or Enkrid’s acting had reached its peak.

Enkrid walked forward as if following the path the Tactical Sword revealed to him.

“Yes. Everything’s going according to plan.”

If Kraiss were here, he’d call him the greatest liar on the continent.

If Lua Gharne were watching, she’d be clapping her slippery little hands in applause.

“No one gets past me.”

And that much was genuine. Whether it was a plan or not, the moment Enkrid faced them, he knew what he had to do.

By now, even that bastard Ragna probably understood what role he had to play.

“Even if you know, you won’t be able to stop it.”

Panito grit his teeth as he spoke.

To realize that someone had penetrated his master’s strategy sparked envy. That envy quickly turned to rage—and the urge to kill the man in front of him.