A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The moment of excruciating pain is brief, yet it feels endless.

Eyes open, still echoing with the remnants of agony.

With two deep breaths, the ragged breathing is brought under control.

Focusing on the pain only makes it worse—it becomes unbearable to dwell on it.

No matter what he did, the pain never vanished in an instant, just as it had always been.

'It hurts.'

The pain endured up until the point of death never became something he could get used to.

But did that even matter?

A series of thoughts trailed one after another as he gritted his teeth and endured the lingering pain in his body.

Enkrid looked forward, matching his gaze to the rhythm of the waves that rocked the vessel.

Standing silently on the ferryboat was the Ferryman.

The lamp in his hand seemed as still and serene as a painting, utterly unmoved by the boat's gentle sway.

"So this is what you meant by 'the end,' huh? To die fighting, then fight and die again? My brain is going to melt from the pain."

At Enkrid's words, the Ferryman wordlessly waved the hand that wasn't holding the lamp.

With that gesture, Enkrid felt himself pushed sharply backward, unable to respond.

For some reason, he suspected he was only imagining the Ferryman's sulky demeanor.

And then, when he opened his eyes again, he realized he was simply standing there.

The Ferryman's boat and the river were gone.

This was reality, not a dream.

He'd already gone through today's repetitions more times than he could count.

Enkrid checked his surroundings and his physical condition, trying to determine exactly when this was.

'Was this the beginning of today?'

Ever since Beelrog had twisted things by using its power to create the labyrinth, it had been hard to tell when the day began.

Still, an end meant there had to be a beginning.

The Ferryman had set this starting point right before Enkrid set foot in the labyrinth's passage and met his first opponent.

So, it was at the moment he first encountered his foe.

"Oh, a customer?"

That opponent had spoken first.

Enkrid looked at him indifferently, though a storm of thoughts filled his head.

If the Ferryman had given him a bit more time, he might have been able to organize his thoughts, but he'd been unceremoniously thrown right back in.

Because of that, he felt a sense of disconnection.

After all, just moments ago he'd been clenching his jaw, struggling to hold out against Beelrog.

The lingering pain hadn't yet faded, and the smell of his scorched insides still lingered deep in his nose.

'Still, it's all right.'

Enkrid had been through this sort of thing countless times before.

He knew exactly where to focus when it happened.

Sword, flow, Will's transformation, results of training, bodily movements, the course of the fight.

That was how he approached it.

He anchored his thoughts on a single track.

It was one way of shaking off and overcoming the ghost of pain—by focusing on whatever brought him exhilaration.

'The black-flame blade burns even with the slightest graze.'

The Flame Whip moves on its own, acting as if it has a will of its own.

And—

'The Ferryman's blessing is still in effect.'

The Ferryman himself would probably ask how exactly this counts as a blessing.

Even now, faced with a demon's power, Enkrid remained unchanged.

Whether it was back when he died for the very first time or right now, it made no difference.

Back then, the thing he clung to as he tried to scale the wall was the Heart of the beast; now, it was simply something yet undefined that kept him going, and that was the only difference.

"What, are you mute or something?"

His opponent drew closer and asked.

The man hid countless weapons in the billowing sleeves that fluttered in the darkness.

He reached for the twin swords at his hips, but let his hands fall without drawing them.

He figured it would be more to his advantage to approach unarmed, rather than to draw his swords and make Enkrid more wary.

Enkrid appeared to be looking at him, but if you looked closely, his gaze was unfocused.

It wasn't the look of someone seeing the person right in front of them—more like he was staring off into the distance.

Anyone could see he was lost in thought.

For someone with the keen senses of a Knight, this was a gap that couldn't be missed.

His opponent noticed it too.

Yet, even so, Enkrid just kept on thinking.

'Swordsmanship is a tool.'

But what happens when those tools are mixed together?

'When you go from Junior Knight to Knight, it's natural to start using Will. At the Knight's level, you add determination to it, concentrating your Will so it becomes something more.'

He'd even forged blades out of Will.

Beelrog could do the same.

Enkrid's thoughts burrowed deep inward.

There was so much to learn, both from within and from the outside world.

And that's what he was doing now.

By the time the lingering pain from earlier had finally faded away, the man approaching him blinked and muttered,

"Geez. If you've lost your way, just quietly leave."

His voice was deflated.

Just from the words, you'd think he meant it—but his actions showed anything but.

He narrowed his blinking eyes, shifted his weight backward as if to pull away, and then suddenly lunged forward.

A trailing afterimage marked his motion, drawing a line.

Enkrid's eyes tracked his opponent.

It wasn't particularly difficult.

The man was fast, but not so fast that Enkrid would lose him.

The sense of danger didn't even feel that intense.

They'd always been on different levels—and up until moments ago, Enkrid had been desperately struggling just to land a blow on Beelrog.

The residual pain had faded, but the instincts and sensations of battle still lingered.

Enkrid's response was instantaneous.

It just wasn't an ordinary sword strike.

He countered his opponent's specialty attack in the same way he had from the beginning.

Nothing had changed.

Deception.

He was confident in that area, too.

With a vacant, absent look, Enkrid stared at his opponent—then suddenly widened his eyes in shock, as if he'd only now noticed the attack coming.

His opponent was convinced his attack had worked, while Enkrid, with impressive acting, kept his eyes feigning surprise but moved his arms and legs with a speed and trajectory completely at odds with his expression.

He shot out his left hand and grabbed the man's wrist, pulling and twisting it as he did.

Even before meeting Audin, Enkrid had never stopped training to build his strength, so he had always been stronger than other mercenaries.

And then, after adding Audin's Isolation Technique and now even using Will, he was stronger than ever.

With just a flick and a twist of the wrist, Enkrid got exactly what he wanted.

Crack!

The wrist holding the dagger snapped like a stick of wood.

At the same time, because he yanked hard, the opponent was practically thrown right at Enkrid.

Even then, the swordsman, a master of deception, managed to shake out his other wrist and grab a new dagger—but he never got the chance to use it.

Pulling and charging in one motion, Enkrid closed the distance between them as he stepped forward.

Using his planted foot as an anchor, he drew his neck back, then thrust it forward.

No matter how quick your hands are, you can't beat a headbutt fired off at this range.

He slammed his forehead right into that spot between the opponent's nose and upper lip—the philtrum.

Thud!

It sounded like rocks striking each other.

"Ugh."

Instead of blood, Black Mist flowed from his opponent's face, and several front teeth scattered onto the ground.

Enkrid's forehead was cut from the impact with the man's teeth, but he'd meant for that to happen.

A splash of blood flew backward from his brow.

Since Enkrid continued moving straight after the headbutt, there wasn't even time for blood to trickle down.

With one hand still gripping the man's broken wrist, his other hand had already drawn his sword and was in mid-swing.

Every movement was perfectly calculated.

One could say it was on a level even more precise than Aker's spiderweb.

It was a harmony of deception and the Sword of Chance.

Before the tricked victim could recover from having tried and failed to deceive, it was already over.

"...!"

There wasn't even a moment to gasp in shock—the opponent's eyes just went wide, mouth agape.

From inside that mouth, Black Mist welled up and spattered like blood, but before it could even hit the ground, Dawnforged sliced clean through his neck.

Enkrid took a moment to study the man's face as it was severed.

Compared to the look of horror he had shown as smoke earlier, this expression was far more real.

Of course, that was to be expected.

When Enkrid had tried to deceive, it was an act, but for this man, who lost his head to Enkrid's sword, the reaction was genuine.

'There's a lot to learn here.'

He didn't mean just the expression of the dead man.

It was something he thought as he extended his sword.

Just now, with a simple slash, his sword had flashed naturally like a bolt of lightning, blended with the Sword of Chance, and incorporated the Vortex technique.

'More than anything, I was ahead in my calculations.'

Even without being able to read the opponent's intent, he could parry and counter using the Sword of Chance, optimizing every move as he swung his blade.

'What else could I try mixing in here?'

It was just a vague hunch, but that vagueness no longer seemed so insurmountable.

Enkrid now was a different person than the one who died before.

Now, he could even gain something from each fight.

That's exactly how it had been with the battle against Beelrog.

"Fine by me."

Enkrid muttered to himself.

That wasn't something he did often.

He only acted like this when he was genuinely exhilarated.

So, it wasn't just Beelrog who could show delight, joy, or exhilaration.

In his inner world, the Ferryman just clicked his tongue and muttered that they were both lunatics anyway.

In terms of timing, the moment Rem and the others finished their fight was precisely when Enkrid's day began.

So by the time Enkrid was heading back toward Beelrog, the Madmen Knights and their companions were taking a brief breather.

Even so, they were aware of the crawling things emerging from one side. Anyone could see that there were quite a few creatures gathering in the distance—so many that counting them started to feel tedious.

Not all of them were like the one Rem had fought or the one Audin had blown up.

Most were beings who, after ages in the Labyrinth, had lost even their reason—swinging swords blindly, their eyeballs turned pitch black.

Of course, being struck down by those sightless swords would still mean death for a human, so they weren't any less dangerous.

"There are a lot of them. Is that Brother still not caught?"

Audin clenched and unclenched his fist as he asked.

Beside him, Teresa glanced over her shoulder, shield in her left hand and sword in her right.

Her gaze turned to the person Audin's question was directed at.

Rem, who had just smashed the head of the charging creature, immediately threw the burden he'd been carrying on his shoulder as soon as he arrived.

The one who caught what was hurled was Roman.

He just instinctively set him down behind himself, so now the man was peacefully snoring away behind Roman.

A few of the residents clustered to one side, nervously glancing around, while Ropord and Fel simply kept their attention ahead, exchanging words like, "They just keep coming," and, "Yeah, I know."

"It's exactly because he slacks off even at a time like this that he'll never become Vice Captain."

Rem replied, feeling the soreness in his muscles.

"Haha."

Audin just laughed it off, and Luagarne—standing on one leg after losing the other—was busy trying to grasp the situation.

"It's Beelrog, isn't it?"

She spoke up, but no answer came.

Everyone just seemed to silently agree.

Was it a moment when the sense of danger was peaking?

That's what Roman thought.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't afraid.

Seeing the sheer number and varied combinations of Wraith Knights gathering ahead made him swallow hard.

But these people weren't like that.

It was as if they'd forgotten how to be afraid.

That's how it looked to Roman.

"I don't see my fiancé anywhere."

Shinar spoke calmly, casting her gaze into the distance.

In a battle like this, the kind of person who should already be out here, charging in half-asleep and drooling with excitement, was nowhere to be seen.

Of course, it meant he must be fighting elsewhere.

Throwing out that comment, she continued as if what was happening now didn't concern her in the slightest.

The fairy, whose otherworldly beauty set her apart, spoke in ways no human would expect.

"Then you all hold this position. I'll be where I'm supposed to be."

In other words: You guys handle things here. I'm off to do what I need to do.

There was hardly any difference between what she said and putting it that bluntly.

At Shinar's words, everyone except Roman scowled.

Roman, after all, was standing firm with Ragna behind him, intent on protecting him.

He was the one limping on one leg—the weakest among them—and yet this was the best he could do right now.

Deciding not to give up and refusing to break didn't mean foolishly rushing into a battle that was clearly a death sentence.

He had chosen to stand and endure, and that's why he was here.

Still ahead, more wraiths—whatever you wanted to call them—continued advancing, each flaunting power at the level of a knight.

Of course, they weren't real knights.

He could tell from watching how the others fought, and he figured that if he steeled himself, he could probably handle one or two of them as well.

There were differences between them, though.

Some of those figures ahead were so formidable that just looking at them made his head spin.

One of them had their head smashed in by Audin, that bear beastman, and another was killed by that Rem bastard.

While Roman's head was swimming with stray thoughts, a response came to the fairy's words.

"What are you talking about?"

Rem picked at his ear.

"Elder Sister, are you trying to bow out on your own?"

Audin pressed his hands together as if in prayer as he spoke. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Elder?"

Shinar, though a fairy, was still getting used to expressing emotions.

She mentally repeated the words spoken by the bear beastman that had brushed past her inner self.

"Who are you calling 'elder'?"

Audin simply kept smiling, while Shinar's green eyes cooled.

Just then, Rem interjected bluntly.

"Lazybones is napping, and if you two want to bicker, you can watch over here for a bit. The Vice Captain and the stray cat are heading out first."

This time, Audin and Shinar turned their attention to Rem.

"Most things that come out of your mouth hardly count as talking, you know."

"As I've said before, it's my job as the fiance to take care of the Captain."

While they were squabbling, the group of Wraith Knights closed the distance.

Here and there, Death Knights had joined their ranks; on top of that, there were two or three Dullahans riding their mounts, clutching heads at their sides, and even the Minotaur that Enkrid had killed was mixed in.

Roman blinked.

All sorts of thoughts crossed his mind, but watching these people made him feel like he had no reason to be afraid.

Somehow, not a trace of anxiety could be seen in any of them.