A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

'Division of roles.'

This was the strategy Enkrid had drawn up—a formation he'd sketched out through countless repetitions of today.

He couldn't spell out every detail right now, but he trusted that if he showed them, his comrades would know what to do.

'We've done this before.'

Back when they'd broken through Count Molsan's wraith army, their teamwork had been in sync.

Of course, this time the fight would be far more complex.

That much was obvious without needing deep thought.

They were facing a different enemy now, and they themselves had grown stronger since then.

Those changes would bring some margin of error.

Swoosh.

Without any warning, a Flame Whip shot through the air.

The Fire Serpent, twisting midair, tried to loop around Audin's forearm like a snare.

Every movement was so quick that as it stretched, it seemed to throw up a curtain of flame in midair—a visual illusion created by its afterimages.

Enkrid slipped in during that moment.

Audin reflexively started to raise his fist, then stepped back.

Enkrid pushed his sword gently toward the snare, shaking it loose.

If you try to cut it, it tangles and coils.

This is a method guided by accumulated experience.

"Brother?"

Audin called out.

"I'll handle the defense."

As Enkrid spoke again, Beelrog bent his left wrist downward and subtly pressed his sole to the ground.

His right index finger twitched up but then gripped Surtr tightly once more.

All these small motions slipped calculation errors into the flow of the fight.

What made Beelrog most troublesome wasn't the wild, unpredictable Flame Whip, nor the sword or horns that spewed black flame.

It was his grappling.

Balrog excelled at grappling.

Even if you gathered your will and fought together, even if you sliced through stone and metal with speed beyond your limits, once the fight truly began, all that remained was dodging, slashing, blocking, and striking.

Beelrog had mastered this truth.

If needed, he'd swiftly toss aside his sword, trick you with the smallest feints and motions, and kick you in the stomach before you knew it.

Enkrid had fallen for it more than once.

Could anyone predict and avoid every move?

There was a sword technique created for that very purpose.

Wave-breaker Sword.

It means a sword that can block even the waves; in practice, it's a way of parrying attacks, and in training, it's about honing your mind.

Now, Enkrid mixed in everything he'd learned and mastered so far.

The Sword of Chance, Vortex, everything I have—I'm weaving it all together for defense.

Beelrog's body swayed left and right, leaving blurry afterimages in the air.

He rocked his body to the left, then suddenly burst to the right, swinging his sword as he went.

He charged straight for where Shinar had just retreated.

Enkrid's body chased after him, and sandwiched between Shinar and Beelrog, he swung his sword.

With his mind racing, he managed to read the path of Beelrog's sword strike before it came.

Right then, Beelrog kicked out with his foot.

It was a pattern Enkrid had faced many times before—so he was already prepared for it.

He knocked aside the sword and drew back, smashing the pommel into the sole of Beelrog's foot.

Bang!

A thunderous sound exploded between them.

Enkrid stepped back three paces, dissipating the remaining force, while Beelrog jerked his extended leg back and immediately used it to push off the ground and move again.

They called it division of roles, but right now, their teamwork was completely off.

If you considered the Madmen Knights as a single person, their coordination was all tangled up.

Rem couldn't get his sling spinning easily, and Ragna hadn't managed to swing his sword even once.

In fact, he hadn't even drawn Sunrise, just watched blankly from the sidelines.

Jaxen had stepped back completely, and while Shinar had drawn her Leafblade, she knew her body wasn't up for fighting—so she put everything into evading.

"Brother!"

Then Beelrog swung his left hand like a blade and slashed at Enkrid's wrist.

That's when Audin shouted out.

But not a single drop of blood was spilled.

"I'm fine."

Enkrid answered calmly.

His left hand was tightly wrapped in two layers of cloth gauntlets.

At some point, he had even taken the one off his right hand and wound it around his left, which is what had protected him.

He had also infused it with Will.

The cloth gauntlets were deeply gouged and torn, with strips of fabric dangling below.

'How to use tools to your advantage.'

It was an application of what he'd learned from Master Rino.

Rino had demonstrated the knack of mixing his Will into his weapons, and Enkrid had learned faithfully from him.

Well, whether Rino ever actually intended to teach him or not, Enkrid had no idea.

If their opponents were sloppy, his group would have been able to fight in unison long ago, but Beelrog seemed to know exactly what to disrupt, thwarting their every attempt.

To Beelrog, even this was just a game.

He couldn't even imagine losing.

That only made his Will stronger and heavier.

And the same was true for Enkrid.

"Ugh, what are we supposed to do," Rem grumbled from behind.

It felt like a group of musicians playing wildly out of tune, but Enkrid believed that if he showed them what to do, they would fall in line.

That belief never wavered.

No—Enkrid genuinely trusted in it.

And if it didn't work?

Then they'd all die.

There was nothing he could do about that.

Beelrog was a monster whose power none of them could face alone.

Was Beelrog letting a gap show for a moment, or was he trying to provoke one himself?

He tried to suffocate everyone with the sheer embodiment of his dominance.

Flaming chains constricted their bodies.

Beelrog's manifest force of will was not something that could be easily shaken off.

Of course, Enkrid had shaken it off countless times before.

"Refuse."

The Castle Wall blocked and deflected the chains.

After all, such oppressive force was pressure forged from fear and murderous intent—the domain of monsters.

It was only natural that Beelrog wielded it with skill, but this time it bounced right off.

And Enkrid wasn't the only one.

Sorcery, by its nature, was adept at rejecting this kind of power.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Rem leapt back several steps, shrugging off the pressure.

Just because they stepped back didn't mean they had escaped Beelrog's territory, but that movement itself carried a ritual meaning, letting them slip past the pressure.

"There is no fear in me with the Father Lord by my side."

Audin faced Beelrog head-on, wrapped in his Holy Radiance Armor, and endured.

Ching.

Ragna drew Sunrise about two finger widths from its scabbard, slicing through the pressure by force of his own spirit.

Beefore Balrog could recover from the loss of his oppressive aura, Jaxen slipped behind Audin's back, and at the same moment, Shinar took up position behind Enkrid.

Everyone, in their own way, ignored Beelrog's intimidation.

-Good!

Beelrog, who had been watching, expressed his delight.

He was so pleased that Surtr erupted in black flames.

Roaring to life, the flaming greatsword doubled in size, and the Flame Whip writhed through the air, twisting and swelling massively.

At the same time, the two wings attached to Beelrog's back unfurled.

Shadows and flames radiating from him seemed to suffocate and engulf everything around.

The acrid stench of burning spread through the area.

This was Beelrog's scent.

And then—

Flaaap—

Enkrid's cloak suddenly billowed wide, spreading behind his back as though caught by a gust of wind, though the air was still.

If Beelrog pressed down on his surroundings with wings, Enkrid enclosed himself with his cloak.

Ziiiiing.

As Surtr spewed flames, Dawnforged resonated in response.

The sword's cry traveled from the grip in his hand, spreading through his entire body.

It was an Engraved Weapon, forged to receive its master's will.

Now, that will stirred within him, communicating with the blade.

The edge of Dawnforged glimmered with a sky-blue radiance.

This mingled with the Holy Radiance emitted by Audin, the light spreading outward.

Seen from above, it looked as if Beelrog's shadow covered half the field, while the other half was blocked by the Holy Radiance and sky-blue light.

Chiririring.

Through that, Beelrog, the God Who Devours Night and Darkness revealed its face.

"I will strike him down."

The master of Sunrise spoke up.

"You can't do it alone, kid."

It was the clear shadow behind the glow of Holy Radiance(Audin), Dawnforged(Enki), and Sunrise(Ragna) that replied.

Somehow, a symbol Rem had never seen appeared before his eyes, and the shadow at his back transformed into a figure with long arms and a small body.

This was the form revealed through a Sorcery Possession ritual.

On top of that, he layered the Descent, drawing on the divine power of the Western Region.

"You think all I can do is stand by and watch?"

At that moment, Shinar enveloped them with the Scent of Trees and Flowers.

"Just ignore me, please"

Jaxen stepped into the darkness, belonging nowhere within this cave.

He could do that.

After all, moonlight always illuminates the night.

He carried the moon within himself, so even in the deepest black of night, he was someone who would never lose his way.

'At full power.'

Letting his guard down would lead straight to death.

Death always lingered right beside you, like your closest friend.

For Enkrid, who had lived through today over and over, that feeling would be even stronger.

But right now, none of that was in his mind.

Thump—

His heart beat so hard it pounded all the way up to his temples.

His pulse surged wildly.

Beelrog was no longer smiling.

It wasn't that he had suddenly lost interest.

It was because he had finally decided to act in earnest.

It was the same expression Beelrog wore whenever Enkrid had risked his life to shatter a Crystal.

Whoosh.

It sounded as if something swept past.

When Beelrog got serious, it felt as if you were fighting in a rift between moments, outside of normal time.

That meant, to survive here, you had to purposely push your body's reaction speed and dynamic vision past their limits.

If you didn't, you'd miss it.

In every physical aspect—strength, speed, and more—Beelrog held the advantage.

'Accelerate.'

He accelerated his thoughts, raising his body's reaction speed at the same time.

Enkrid's focus funneled into a single point.

He tracked only Beelrog's movements.

'I can see it.'

Perhaps you could call it the evolved form of the Wave-breaker Sword.

He read the flow: sometimes splitting his thoughts to make tactical decisions, and at the instant the enemy made a move, seamlessly switching to a single-minded focus.

Highs and lows alternated without pause, heights of excitement and calm crossing over in no set pattern. It was a relentless adjustment of pace.

You needed to be able to dash at full speed, then stop abruptly and sink deep into thought—only then could you pull this off.

It was also something Enkrid had done countless times before.

Even channeling Will into an Explosion of Points from stationary was just another branch of this same approach.

'I can block him.'

Enkrid gave himself over to exhilaration.

Like a madman, he read the flow and rhythm of Beelrog's attacks, forced Dawnforged forward, took Beelrog's punches with his elbow, and deflected each one away.

Bang! Whoosh! Tta-ang! Chiiing!

When the light of the sky met the black light, black sparks flew onto the wall, burning holes through it.

What truly sets my Will apart from Beelrog's or even the Order of Knights'?

Enkrid had studied and pondered over this, even hiring three new teachers to push himself further.

His deliberation continued even aboard the ferryboat provided by the ferryman.

The entire time his mind was juggling hundreds of different ideas, he kept swinging his sword.

Sometimes he dragged things out just to carve out more training time.

"Hey, you bastard, cut the games."

His teachers got angry so often it was almost routine.

The time Enkrid spent as a kind of tribute to them hadn't been meaningless—this was, in his own way, an apology.

He squeezed every bit out of his time.

And because he never wasted a single day, he always acted as if every moment might be his last.

"I'd sure love to crack open your skull."

He could almost hear the ferryman's voice in admiration—genuine, heartfelt praise.

Will that never ran dry belonged to Uske, and there were those like Indules, whose very capacity was different altogether.

'Indules.'

That referred to the transformation of Will's nature.

What he'd learned from Yohan was a technique for using Will, but what he understood now was something a bit different.

All this time, Enkrid had shaped and molded his Will as if he were an alchemist or a stonemason—refining it, breaking and deliberately shattering it, gathering, mixing, purifying, and letting it flow.

Throughout every step of this process, the things his Order of Knights had once shown him became part of his understanding.

Jaxen, for instance, would transform his Will into a thin blade whenever the moment called for it.

When that Will was synchronized with his relic, it became Indules.

The very fact that what he possessed fundamentally changed—this was the transformation of Will's nature.

Audin forged rocks of light and made them stand tall.

Rem gripped and swung chaotic winds, twisting them at his command.

Ragna—could, through sheer force of will, transform his Will into a sword.

Is it just a coincidence that they could all do these things?

No, it wasn't.

It was only possible because they had spent so much time inspiring and spurring each other on, so that when Rem absentmindedly talked about "us," it really meant something.

Enkrid fashioned the Will inside him into bricks and stacked them together.

A single brick might be kicked apart in an instant, but when they're piled up, it's a different story.

That's how he built a castle wall within himself—it was Indules—the Will of the Castle Wall.

Bang!

Beelrog's Surtr drove into the thin gap in his concentration, stabbing down vertically.

Enkrid braced himself, tightening the muscles in his feet, hips, and abs all at once, and raised his sword so it was parallel to the ground, blocking the blow and holding firm.

He'd once buckled at the knee or been sent flying from blows just like this—countless times, in fact—but now, he could withstand it.

At some point, the flames of Beelrog's burning sword had condensed into the shape of a blade.

"Dawnforged never breaks."

He put his trust in his Engraved Weapon. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

He used everything he knew about wielding a weapon, then added just enough clear-headed logic to focus solely on blocking.

This was Donafa's teaching.

The heightened awareness that came from combining Single-edged Sword's deep Breathing Technique and her sense of omnipotence made his Will condense even more solidly.

He had used the teachings of them all to block this strike.

Behind the blade he held parallel to the ground, Enkrid's lips curled upward.

He was smiling without even realizing it.

Beelrog smiled back at him.

What, you blocked that?

His smile seemed to say.

The flame swirling constantly in place of his pupils danced wildly.

Even if death came at the height of ecstasy, he would gladly fight—because that was what gave his existence meaning.

That was Beelrog's life.

The sword, thrust with all his might, had been stopped.

Because of that, a momentary gap appeared in Beelrog's movements.

At the same time, unity arose among those whose actions had been faltering before.

Click.

There was a sound, as if misaligned gears had finally clicked together.

It wasn't a noise anyone actually heard, but it felt as real as anything.

Beelrog, keeping only his left hand steady, raised it to shield his forehead from his sword-striking posture

Bang!

A projectile flew in and detonated above him.

As black crystal dust scattered across his arm, it scattered the light in every direction.

Of course, it was Rem's handiwork.

"This Vice Captain will shove it in somehow, so everyone else just keep moving on your own, got it?"

His nonsense continued to erupt one after another.

It was a mental assault.

Whether it was aimed at his allies or his enemies, no one could tell.