A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Last night, the Ferryman appeared in my dream and said,

"Be grateful."

Or something along those lines.

His tone, as always, was dreary and solemn, like a dull winter sky.

There was also a calmness to it, settled like old dust in an abandoned house, but Enkrid sensed a faint hint of mischief behind his words.

'That's odd.'

Even the master of the ferryboat drifting across the black river could make jokes, or so it seemed to him.

But whether that remark was meant as a joke or was genuine, or something else entirely, Enkrid bowed his head in earnest.

He did so politely, with genuine respect.

His chest aligned parallel to the ferryboat, and he lowered his head.

Sway.

The ferryboat rocked lightly on the river.

The Ferryman still sang of despair and hopelessness, still wished for Enkrid to give up on life and remain in the present moment, but regardless of what the Ferryman wanted, Enkrid had gained a great deal from him.

That was the truth, at least as he saw it.

In fact, these days, he almost got the sense that the Ferryman was trying to help him.

"Yes."

He replied, head still bowed

"Don't answer so obediently."

It seemed as though the Ferryman frowned.

Outwardly, his face remained as expressionless as ever, but Enkrid could sense his mood through a mental impression.

"Yes."

He replied again.

"Don't... answer. At all."

This time, the Ferryman's head actually moved from side to side, the gesture plainly visible.

It was a slow, uneven movement, like a broken clock—completely off rhythm.

Still, the meaning was unmistakable.

It was a gesture that said he no longer wished to have this kind of exchange with Enkrid.

Enkrid lifted his head.

He wasn't strolling along the Riverside as he had before.

Maybe that was why—though the Boat's Gunwale had now become like the Riverside, the feeling was oddly familiar in its own way.

That impression came from the Ferryman's presence.

At this moment, Enkrid felt an unusual sense of calm.

It was as if he were having a casual conversation with the Ferryman, though the content itself didn't matter—what conveyed that feeling was the Ferryman's tone, transmitted mentally as always.

"You don't think it will be easy in there, do you?"

The Ferryman asked It was still strange to hear him speak without moving his lips.

His lips looked like a gray wasteland.

A parched, cracked wasteland that hadn't seen rain in a long time.

"Do you think I'm entering the Demonic Domain because I'm underestimating it?"

Enkrid replied as he listened to the sound of the waves lapping behind the Boat's Gunwale.

Did he really appear that way to the Ferryman?

Did he look like he was doing this because he wasn't taking the Demonic Domain seriously?

"You should be grateful for my generosity, since I haven't sewn your mouth shut for answering a question with a question."

The Ferryman said this and sent over what felt like a faint mental chuckle.

So this is a joke, too.

Enkrid gazed steadily into the Ferryman's eyes—those black, empty holes—and made up his mind to answer properly this time instead of responding with more questions.

His answer carried the meaning that he did not take the Demonic Domain lightly, but rather, he was filled with anticipation for what lay ahead.

"Yes."

He answered, bowing his head halfway.

"The longer this goes on, the more I feel like I'm at a loss."

"I see."

"Don't answer."

"..."

The Ferryman realized all over again that he could never win in a battle of words.

This bastard had been like this from the very beginning.

"The Demonic Domain is different from this place. Your senses will be different, your instincts, and even your body's reactions will change. Don't expect your five senses—or even your sixth sense—to work exactly the same as they do here."

The Ferryman simply said what he had to say.

A little extra 'consideration' wouldn't hurt.

He shook the Lamp once, then waved his other hand in the air before stretching it out in front of him.

The gesture was odd—it looked almost like he was showing his palm straight on and then pushing something away.

When the Lamp shook, its light scattered, making the world waver before Enkrid's eyes.

The palm of the Ferryman's hand was like his lips: a gray wasteland, and between its lines—creases or maybe wrinkles—ran deep grooves that evoked the image of a bottomless chasm.

Was Enkrid so distracted by that sight for a moment?

Before he realized it, the Ferryman was suddenly right in front of his nose.

When did he move?

It must have been a feat only possible because this wasn't reality.

Before his primal instincts could even react, the Ferryman's hand touched Enkrid's chest and shoved him, pushing him right off the Boat's Gunwale.

The hand gesture that had started out front now concluded here.

His sense of balance didn't matter; his body toppled instinctively backward.

And behind him—there was only the River.

A river that was pitch-black, endless, and ominous.

Just before he toppled over, Enkrid hooked his calves onto the boat's gunwale, tightened his abs and waist, and held himself firm.

A body trained in the real world influenced his mind as well.

His body, which had been on the verge of falling, suddenly stopped short midway.

It looked like even more of a feat than the Ferryman's hand movements.

He curled his toes and tightened his calves, thighs, glutes, and abs, straightening his waist like a rigid rod.

Thanks to that, he managed to halt, stuck at a slanted angle as he was falling.

The Ferryman's black eye sockets widened.

Was that surprise in those dark, gaping holes?

This time, since he didn't sense the Ferryman's will through his mind, he could only guess.

But in the depths of those black eyes, a violet flame flared up.

Maybe that was annoyance rather than surprise?

It was possible.

"You're resisting?"

The Ferryman spoke.

"Shouldn't I?"

Enkrid shot back.

"Go over."

His gaze spoke of either annoyance or surprise, but there was a subtle kindness in his tone.

Besides, Enkrid knew well enough that even if he fell into the river here, it was all just a dream.

"Hurry up."

The Ferryman urged him.

Enkrid relaxed his body.

As the tension drained from his muscles, his body toppled backward, just as the Ferryman had intended.

Splash.

His body sank into the pitch-black water.

Enkrid felt a light jolt against his back and sensed the strange texture of the water enveloping him.

Naturally, it was hard to breathe, but this river felt as heavy and solid as molten iron, clinging tightly to his body.

You couldn't really call something like this just "water."

Even when he forced his eyes open, he couldn't see a thing—everything was suffocatingly dark.

Through it all, he heard the Ferryman's voice.

"Get used to it."

He didn't bother to ask why the Ferryman was doing this to him.

What point was there in probing the whims of the Ferryman?

Even human whims are meaningless to question.

To be honest, this was nothing but a miserable nightmare.

No one would mistake thrashing helplessly in water for a pleasant dream.

'It's hard to breathe, but it doesn't feel like I'll die.'

Enkrid calmly swam through the molten-iron-like water.

Heavy was heavy, but either way, he figured he'd at least try to shoot upward.

He kept enduring and struggling, fighting not to give in.

How much time had passed?

To him, it felt as if he had been flailing for months.

He barely managed to hook his fingertips over the boat's gunwale, pulling himself up, and the very air felt unfamiliar.

That was how long he had spent floundering in the water.

He couldn't die—despite the suffocating sensation—but it was still tormenting.

The pressure was oppressive, and enduring it wasn't easy.

Worn out mentally, he heard the Ferryman's voice.

"That's what the air in the Demonic Domain is like."

Now it was time to part ways with the Ferryman.

The Ferryman's figure grew blurry, scattering like grains of sand.

Just before Enkrid opened his eyes, he saw dozens of phantom faces ripple across the Ferryman's face.

The shifting, shimmering grains of sand arbitrarily formed different shapes.

Among them, there was an angry Ferryman, an indifferent Ferryman, a smiling Ferryman, and even a weeping Ferryman.

It looked as if the Ferryman had split and was fighting himself.

Inner conflict?

That phrase popped into his head right as he woke up.

That was what happened last night.

And when he crossed the boundary of the Demonic Domain, Enkrid realized that what the Ferryman had made him do was both practice and training.

Because of it, his senses were twisted, and his body, which should have felt even heavier, responded.

Pivoting on his left foot, Enkrid swung his body around, sending Duskforged streaking vertically toward the sky of the Demonic Domain, smashing into the incoming bolt of lightning.

The true form of the flowing, undulating lightning was actually a single arrow.

It was at least twice as long as a regular arrow, with a pitch-black tip.

Clang!

Not only the tip, but the entire shaft was crafted from metal.

At this point, wouldn't you call it a small ballista bolt?

The arrow, having been struck aside by Duskforged, ricocheted away and crashed into the ground with a loud thud.

It wasn't a soft thud, but a resounding boom.

The earth burst upward as if struck by real lightning, clumps of soil spraying everywhere.

Even though he intercepted the arrow, he hadn't completely neutralized its force—and that's what caused this.

An arrow imbued with Will, or at least something very similar.

He could tell just from blocking it once.

Everyone in the party flinched.

A tingling numbing sensation shot through Enkrid's hand.

Blocking something like this was no different from stopping the bolt of a giant crossbow.

He even began to worry whether his sword's blade had been damaged.

But there was no time to inspect the blade.

Whoever could shoot that kind of arrow surely wouldn't stop at just one shot.

"Be ready,"

Jaxen muttered.

Everyone responded to those words.

That was enough.

Enkrid steadied his breathing using the method he had practiced with the Ferryman the night before, while the others readied themselves in their own ways.

Ropord hid his body behind a thick tree, and Fel took position just behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"You're my meat shield."

"This crazy bastard?"

Leaving the two of them whispering behind her, Teresa raised her shield.

The shield's exterior was coated with molten Dark Gold, and inside, it was lined with Manticore hide—the very hide from the Manticore that Audin had killed long ago.

It could hold up with sheer strength, but when arrows came driving in like lightning, she could also deflect them as they struck her shield.

Block half, deflect half.

That's all it took.

It wasn't an easy trick, but Teresa had the skill for it.

A faint light shimmered around Audin's entire body.

It wasn't quite the Holy Radiance Armor, but he had drawn out enough divine power for it to be visible.

Whatever flew at them, he would react and block it.

If you could manifest the Holy Radiance Armor, you could do the same for the Holy Radiance Shield—just concentrate divine power to reinforce the defense.

Compared to the Will-forged blade Ragna had demonstrated before, this was a much simpler technique.

All you had to do was gather the power.

Of course, Audin was able to do that because he often used concentrated divine power and knew how to wield techniques like the Holy Radiance Armor.

If you told Teresa to do the same thing, she'd say that was impossible.

Luagarne and Shinar stepped back behind Enkrid.

Shinar was a Fairy, and Fairies needed the essence of the forest to survive.

For her, this place was like fighting underwater.

If they were battling deep within a forest, the Fairy Clan would be even more powerful than usual, but here, there was no trace of the forest's essence.

The Demonic Domain was a deadly place for Fairies.

Luagarne knew there was no way she could block that lightning with her own abilities.

Her judgment was quick, and her movements were instinctive.

'Get behind someone who can block it.'

That someone was Enkrid.

That's why Shinar and Luagarne used Enkrid as a shield.

Meanwhile, Rem and Ragna simply stared ahead from where they stood.

Their senses were slightly dulled, and the air was thick with unsettling pressure and unease, but while they were in this 'ready' state, something like the arrow from earlier wouldn't catch them off guard.

Everyone reacted at once, and—almost as if on cue—arrows came flying toward them.

In Enkrid's ears, he heard the sharp twang of a bowstring twice in quick succession from far away.

The arrows targeted the two who were standing visibly in the open.

Rem and Ragna.

Rem noticed it the same instant Enkrid did.

Rem's hand moved.

Optimization of thought—the axe strike that became the foundation for Flowing Sword, the sword technique Enkrid created, known as Flash.

He tilted the axe at an angle, parrying and pushing the arrow away with the blade.

To someone untrained, it would just look like he was swinging his axe with all his might, but in reality, it was an axe movement that guided the force away.

Tadang!

Sparks flew from the axe Rem held.

Even though he deflected the arrow with a near-perfect move, a heavy force still resonated in his palm.

It was not much different from deflecting a giant boulder—the weight was comparable.

Ragna showed a similar skill.

Naturally, he could also use the Flowing Sword style.

He set Sunrise upright, perpendicular to the ground, using it like a shield to absorb the arrow's force and deflect it to the side.

Ta-ang!

The difference between them was that Rem let the force flow smoothly using a twist of his wrist, while Ragna turned his whole body, predicting the point of impact and using the blade's surface.

The sound proved the difference.

Sparks flew from both, regardless.

The two arrows shot past them and flew toward the back.

Bang! Bang!

The explosions that followed spoke to the arrows' incredible force.

These arrows could tear up the earth and shatter a Great Tree.

It was no different from having a massive spear thrown at them.

"That arrow was loaded and launched with a transfer technique," Rem said, spinning his axe-wielding wrist with a flick.

He meant that the arrow had Will imbued in it.

Of course, there was no way Rem wouldn't already know what Enkrid had figured out.

"So what?" Ragna replied in a detached tone.

"I'm just letting you know, you crazy slacker."

"It's up ahead. I'll take the lead."

"You're trying to be funny, aren't you? What, you want us to go on a grand tour of the Continent or something? Or no, since we're starting here, maybe a tour of the entire Demonic Domain? Actually, that does sound kind of fun."

Enkrid had heard the sound and blocked the arrow, so he could pinpoint the direction it came from.

Yes, it was up ahead.

It was just beyond the barrier made of densely-packed trees, their colors a mix of deep red and brown.

In other words, the arrow had shot through the gaps between the trees and leaves—what could rightfully be called a barricade.

***