A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

"At this point, don’t you think we must’ve been married in a past life?"

Torres made the comment as they walked side by side. It was probably because they kept running into each other on missions. After all, they had just seen each other during the recent hunt for monsters.

"Maybe we were enemies in a past life instead?"

Enkrid countered, playing along with Torres’ joke.

There were only two reasons for connections from a past life; either they were meant to be together, or they were bound by ill fate.

"We’re not enemies, are we?" Torres chuckled.

"Probably not."

The two men bumped fists lightly. No matter what awaited them, a familiar face was always better than a stranger.

And so, they set off.

Tap, tap.

The path beyond the northern gate greeted them with its gravelly crunch underfoot. There were only two of them heading out from the Border Guard.

"Just the two of us?"

"We’re supposed to meet with a friendly reconnaissance unit after we cross the river."

It didn’t seem like a dangerous mission. Was that why they only sent two? Enkrid thought of various possibilities but kept them to himself. After all, Torres was the one in charge, and all he needed to know was what Torres told him.

They had been on the move since dawn. By the time the morning sun was fully up, the thin undergarment beneath Enkrid’s armor was soaked with sweat.

Even though the cold still lingered in the air, anyone would start sweating from wearing full armor while walking for hours. He wore a sleeveless, thin undershirt made of a light fabric, followed by a thicker long-sleeved shirt. On top of that was a leather armor designed to block magic, and a whistle dagger holster.

Then there was the gambeson, boots, and leather gauntlets to finish the ensemble. The only compromise for mobility was the thinner pants— thick ones would hinder movement. At his waist, he carried a thick-bladed guard sword, the new longsword on his left, and a short sword on his right.

However, that wasn’t all.

Extra weapons never hurt. He had two knives hidden in his boots and two throwing knives tucked into a holster on his left forearm.

He was light infantry in name only, his load was anything but light. Additionally, one more piece of equipment had been added to his usual gear.

"My left hand is free. I need to fix that."

That had been Ragna’s advice. Because of it, Enkrid now carried a buckler strapped to his back.

'Can’t I use this as a pot in an emergency?'

It did seem possible— if he stripped off the leather attached to the handle, it would just be a thin piece of metal. It felt like unnecessary baggage.

‘But I don’t have a choice.’

If he was told to carry it, he would. He’d use the shield for now, and if it didn’t suit him, he’d figure out another way later.

"Whether it’s sword and shield or just a sword, it’s time to move to the next level. But first, you need to balance your technique."

Ragna was lazy most of the time, but when it came to training Enkrid, he was nothing short of a dedicated instructor.

If asked whether that bothered him—

‘Not at all.’

In fact, he was grateful.

As Enkrid opened his senses and scanned the surroundings, he also mentally replayed Ragna’s advice. To an observer, it might have looked a bit odd.

Torres, walking beside him, only carried two short swords on his left hip and seemed to have no other visible weapons. Compared to Enkrid, his load was light.

Torres glanced at him, his thoughts wandering.

‘He’s keeping up well.’

Even with all that weight, Enkrid was moving easily, not out of breath. Though his eyes seemed unfocused, he reacted immediately to any changes in his surroundings.

‘What the hell’s going through his head?’

It was hard not to wonder. Torres had been on many operations before, but this time felt different.

‘It’s actually strange he hasn’t asked anything.’

In missions with so many unknowns, most people would have at least asked about the objective or what to expect after crossing the river. If Enkrid had asked, Torres already knew what he would say:

‘We’re soldiers, and we do what we’re told. Don’t you get that?’

It was a rare opportunity to give someone a sharp retort, but Enkrid hadn’t asked anything.

"Straight ahead."

Enkrid finally spoke. Torres looked up to see what he was referring to. They had been walking northwest along the river for some time when they spotted two ghouls lurking ahead.

Their white, clumped hair draped over their heads like seaweed, and they crouched by a large rock, watching the two of them. Their gray skin blended in with the stone, making them difficult to notice unless one looked closely.

‘He spotted them before me?’

Was it just luck? Or was his sense truly that sharp? Torres wasn’t sure.

In any case, they had encountered enemies— monsters.

"One each?"

"Sounds good."

At Torres’ suggestion, Enkrid stepped forward to draw their attention. He unstrapped the shield from his back and drew his longsword.

Schwing.

‘Nice sound.’

Anyone who lived by the sword would appreciate a good blade. Torres was no different.

While Enkrid advanced with his sword, Torres didn’t draw his weapons. Instead, he calculated the distance between himself and the ghouls. Their claws were poisonous. No need to get too close.

As the two ghouls charged at Enkrid, Torres swiftly reached for his belt and flicked his wrist.

In a single fluid motion, his arm shot forward, and the knife in his hand flew through the air, slicing into the ghoul’s skull.

Thunk.

The blade split half of the ghoul’s head open before bouncing out. Ghouls often lingered around the water, with their bodies partially decayed and giving off a foul stench. The knife had torn through the rotting flesh and cracked its skull.

Torres quickly turned his attention to Enkrid. The man expertly blocked a ghoul’s claw with his shield and swung his longsword in a clean arc, severing its head in one motion.

Ghoul blood was black. The headless body collapsed to its knees and spilled thick, dark blood onto the ground.

"Aren’t there supposed to be fewer monsters around here?"

Despite being a platoon leader like Torres, Enkrid still gave him the respect owed to a member of the Kingdom’s Frontier Guard.

"There should be fewer, but we’ve had to redirect troops because of the pack of human-faced dogs recently. Still, we shouldn’t run into too many more."

Enkrid nodded in quiet acknowledgment, and Torres felt an unexpected curiosity.

"Aren’t you at least a little curious where we’re going?"

"We’re crossing the river, aren’t we?"

"Just talk casually. I mean, a platoon leader is a platoon leader, no matter which unit, right? We’re probably around the same age, as well."

"I’m thirty."

"Then I’m younger."

"So, what."

There was no reason to refuse Torres’ offer.

"What’s your secret? We’ve both been through hell, but you look like you’ve barely aged. It’s kind of unfair."

From the outside, Torres looked much older. His plain features made him resemble an innkeeper more than a soldier.

As he spoke, Torres casually cleaned the knife he had thrown by dipping it in the water. He wiped it dry with his sleeve before it vanished into his clothes.

It happened so quickly that it seemed like a magic trick to Enkrid.

"Endless training."

Enkrid’s answer drew a dry laugh from Torres. This kid had a way with words. He was starting to regret not pulling Enkrid into his own unit.

Finally, Torres got to the point.

"You know crossing the river won’t be the end of it, right?"

Enkrid nodded.

"So, you’re not going to ask what’s waiting for us?"

"Would you tell me if I did?"

Torres couldn’t. He didn’t know the full details himself. All he had were guesses.

"Something tells me this isn’t going to be fun."

Enkrid blinked, and for a moment, Torres thought he saw something flash in the man’s eyes. It reminded him of the look Enkrid had when he’d mentioned wanting to fight more monsters.

‘Is this guy actually looking forward to it?’

Maybe it was the fact they were heading into monster territory.

"This is starting to get interesting."

Torres was the type to enjoy risk, but this was on another level.

"Let’s keep moving."

The two men pressed on. By the time they reached the ferry, Torres spoke up again.

"We made good time. Looks like we have a little while to wait."

They needed a ferryman to cross the river. The ferry dock was nothing more than a few piles of rocks and a rough path leading to the water. The sun was now fully overhead.

Torres found a shady spot and sat down while Enkrid immediately began practicing his sword swings.

"You’re not going to rest?"

"This is how I rest."

No wonder people called him a training-obsessed lunatic. Torres watched as Enkrid moved through his drills, stepping and swinging his sword in fluid motions.

From low to high, from high to low.

‘No openings.’

Just as Torres was thinking that, Enkrid shifted, using his arms like a lever to swing the pommel of the sword upward. It was a basic technique applied in a new way.

‘That’s sharp.’

If an opponent’s chin caught the pommel, they’d be on a diet of porridge for days. Worst case, they might never be able to chew again.

'Ouch.'

Just thinking about it made Torres’ jaw hurt. Enkrid continued to move, swinging his sword over and over. Eventually, Torres found himself gripping the handle of his short sword.

Sching.

The blade slid halfway out of its sheath, making a satisfying sound.

‘Oh.’

He hadn’t even realized he was getting caught up in the moment. Enkrid stopped mid-swing and turned his head when he heard the sound.

Their eyes met.

"Wanna spar?"

Enkrid’s offer hung in the air.

It wasn’t the best timing, but...

Torres didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t explain it, but watching Enkrid stirred something in him— a competitive spark. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

It wasn’t malice. It was a simple desire to test his skills. Plus, he hadn’t had a chance to finish the match from the last time they fought.

‘I’ll have to take this seriously.’

Torres had seen him in action against harpies and human-faced dogs. He had watched him train. At this point, it was impossible to underestimate him.

‘The guy’s still growing.’

Thirty years old and improving at this rate?

"Alright, let’s do it."

Torres got to his feet. Enkrid sheathed his sword but held onto the scabbard. Even with the sword still inside, a hit from that thing would break bones. Enkrid fought with sheer force.

"Great. Let’s go."

There was something about Enkrid’s serious expression that made Torres chuckle despite himself.

‘Should I try throwing a knife?’

No, that wouldn’t work against someone like him. So how should he approach this? As his mind raced, the countless lessons learned from battle flowed through him.

‘One strike.’

The instant he pushed off the ground, Torres moved like a shadow, his body skimming low across the ground.

Fast and low, like Audin’s tackles.

Enkrid instinctively bent his knees in response, bringing his sword down in a sweeping motion.

Whatever approached would be hit. However, Torres suddenly veered to the side.

Enkrid’s sword followed him— his eyes, his hands, his feet— every part of him tracking Torres’ movements.

He sharpened his senses. One mistake, and he’d lose. That was the lesson from their last fight. At the same time, he kept the distance close.

This was going to be a long fight. Would he be able to win like this? In a drawn-out battle, Enkrid had no doubts about being able to kill, but this wasn’t that kind of fight.

He decided to close the distance even more. Instead of panicking, Torres showed his hand. With a quick flick of his wrist, his hand moved toward Enkrid’s neck— but it didn’t grab, strike, or hold.

On pure instinct, Enkrid jerked his head back.

Flick.

The match was decided. A small blade, no longer than a hand’s length, gleamed in Torres’ palm. Had it been a real fight to the death, a mere twist of Torres’ wrist would have inflicted a fatal wound.

"I was going to leave a pretty scar on your cheek."

"...What was that?"

Enkrid was visibly shocked. He had clearly seen Torres’ empty hands.

"It’s my secret technique. You think I’d just tell you?"

"You wouldn’t."

As expected, Torres didn’t plan on spilling his secrets, but to Enkrid’s surprise, he explained willingly.

"You need skilled hands. It’s not something you can master overnight."

He flipped his wrist, and the knife vanished. A quick shake of his hand, and another knife popped out from his sleeve. Upon closer inspection, the handle and blade were thinner than average, likely custom-made to be hidden in his sleeves.

"Hidden knife. It’s my ace in the hole."

Torres sighed after revealing his secret.

"Damn, I usually don’t show this to just anyone."

"Yeah, I get that."

Enkrid stood up, looking toward the horizon. They still had time before the ferryman arrived.

"Another round?"

Torres sighed in mock frustration but got up.

"Yeah, let’s go."

It had been a while since he felt this way— such burning excitement, like the first time he had picked up a sword.

Caught up in the feeling, Torres couldn’t resist. For the first time in a long while, he thought his skills might improve after a simple sparring session.

The mix of exhilaration and tension before a life-threatening mission fueled him. Of course, the biggest reason was standing right in front of him.

‘It’s weird.’

This was all because of Enkrid. Torres realized it instinctively, making the situation even more bizarre and fascinating.

By the time the ferryman arrived, two soldiers, drenched in sweat and panting heavily, were waiting.

"I heard this was a garrison mission. But was it really just a training exercise?"

The old ferryman’s question left them speechless.