A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Let’s bring out what we’ve learned and practiced.

As soon as he made up his mind and moved, his body moved on its own.

He could see everything and respond to it.

The countless days of training in the Isolation Technique provided the strength to support me.

‘It’s working.’

His body moved as he intended. He adhered to a single sword technique.

The Northern-Style Heavy Sword Technique.

Based on the fundamental principles divided into ‘steady’, ‘heavy’, and ‘quick’, it combined five basic forms developed throughout the continent.

For example, Mitch Hurrier used a sword technique that combined ‘steady’ and ‘heavy’, with a touch of ‘quick’.

Ragna emphasized ‘heavy’ and added a hint of ‘quick’ in his swordsmanship.

This was the Northern-Style Heavy Sword Technique.

Of course, what he learned was only the basics. It was a simple technique, but it was enough.

Using the technique he honed as a foundation.

‘I can see it.’

He could hear the enemy’s attack forms with his eyes and see them with his ears. As his senses intertwined, he opened the Gate of Sixth Sense, allowing him to see everything. He classified and distinguished the order of the incoming blades. He could perceive each and every one of them.

The speed at which he felt and reacted was truly lightning-fast.

‘Left from here.’

Naturally, he had the luxury of thought.

Encrid was faster than the monsters and beasts surrounding him, saw them beforehand, and his body followed suit.

He moved more. He advanced a step faster than his opponents and swung his sword one more time.

‘Strength.’

The Heart of Great Strength damages the body if the activation time is too long. So, it should be brief and momentary.

Not only had he honed the Sense of Evasion during today’s repeated practice.

In the process of evading again and again, he naturally obtained this through training and practice.

As his heart pounded, strength filled his muscles.

‘Three times? No, I can swing four times.’

With one heartbeat, he could deliver four powerful strikes.

Slash!

All were cuts where he felt no resistance in his hands.

It was a precise slash that split the heads of four knolls, exactly dividing their crowns in half.

His body moved as he wished.

The sword advanced as he desired.

The coordination of his body doubled all his reflex speeds, and as he unraveled everything he had learned,Encrid thought of Rem at that moment. How could he run through the middle of the battlefield unscathed?

How could such a feat be possible?

With such skill, it was possible, for someone like him now.

Cutting and cutting again, splitting and dividing.

Walking through the time he had seized and taken.

‘Ah.’

He also recalled the junior Knight he had seen then. How could he, alone, charge forward and demonstrate such power?

They say you need ‘Will’. They said it was something distant for Encrid.

But does that mean it’s a reason to give up?

Not a chance.

With busy days filled with doing his best in what he could do now, there was no time for despair.

Encrid did just that.

He did everything he could. Using his body, trained with the Heart of Great Strength and the Isolation Technique, he imitated the charging technique of the junior Knight.

After rampaging like that, when his limbs started to tremble and a dull pain arose in his intestines, he suddenly retreated.

“Ahhh!”

Behind him, Luagarne let out a strange sound.

Encrid felt his entire body’s energy drain away.

When he asked for help, Luagarne wrapped a whip around his wrist and pulled him in. Encrid collapsed into Luagarne’s arms and fainted.

It was only natural since he showed strength similar to that of a junior Knight, even without Will.

However, those who watched him.

Those who climbed the fortress walls.

Luagarne, Finn, Krais, and Esther.

Their chests were filled with an inexplicable fire, their skin with goosebumps, and their whole bodies with tremors.

‘How can any human do that?’

It was a moment when, despite not being a bard, one wanted to compose a song.

“Damn, we should name this wall after him.”

A wall construction craftsman, who had hit his head while carrying stones and had a scab, said.

“Just name it Encrid’s Wall, without the ‘madman’ part.”

“Damn it, why am I crying?”

Some of the vigilantes were shedding tears.

All of them, rather than feeling joy for their survival, were deeply moved by the sight of the man standing and fighting in front of them, for reasons they couldn’t fully understand.

The word ‘impressive’ is often used to describe something that leaves a mark on the heart. Something that engraves itself as a feeling or emotion.

At this moment, Encrid was etched into their hearts.

“Ahhhhh!”

Amidst the cheers and shouts.

Even as the knolls had not fully retreated, they shouted:

“Encrid!”

They chanted someone’s name, shot arrows, and threw stones.

Finally, the monsters retreated a step.

“Is he okay?”

Having seen him collapse, they all asked in unison. They hoped he wasn’t hurt, that his body wasn’t damaged, that he would come out fine and walk, and that they could see his smiling face.

They all felt the same.

They wanted to cheer for him. They wanted to give anything for him.

That was their sentiment.

Their expectations were fulfilled.

“Is he gone?”

Encrid stood up and walked, asking.

Deutsche Pullman descended from the barrier. After looking at the glaive in his hand a few times, as if he didn’t like it, he tossed it aside.

His subordinates would have been quite surprised to see this, as he valued his weapons like his life, typical of a mercenary.

Kneeling down, Deutsche lowered his head and spoke.

“Thank you.”

In those few words, the man’s gratitude was fully conveyed.

“…It’s probably not over yet.”

Encrid received the words calmly, without any particular smile. Deutsche neither sought his smile, gratitude, nor praise.

He merely expressed respect to the man who had stirred him.

Seeing this, everyone else kneeled, whether they were on the wall or on the ground.

Encrid only shrugged his shoulders.

Those who had watched him for a long time knew that he was quite content with the situation.

After the battle, the kneeling, and the glory had passed, Encrid washed himself and returned to his hut to check his body.

He had indeed pushed himself.

His muscles were sore, and his heart felt a slight pressure.

‘At this level…’

He had regulated himself. He would recover in a day. It was enough.

Should he thank Audin anew?

“The Isolation Technique is also a method that creates a ‘regenerative body’. The term ‘regenerative body’ comes from the Far East or the far North, referring to a body that recovers even if it breaks. This technique doesn’t just end with restructuring the frame.”

Audin had repeatedly emphasized that the Isolation Technique was ultimately about creating a foundation for the body to heal.

He was reaping the benefits of it.

‘It’s okay.’

He clenched and unclenched his hands, assessing his condition. The soreness slowly faded between his trembling muscles.

“Well, uh, that was surprising.”

Krais said beside Encrid.

Everyone was watching him. It wasn’t like he fainted for half a day after what he did, he had merely closed his eyes for a moment and then got up and walked as if nothing happened.

“I’m newly impressed.”

Finn said.

Esther just gazed at him steadily. Those eyes conveyed an uncertain meaning.

Luagarne spoke matter-of-factly.

“When this is over, I will leave.”

She said it was time to return. She was bound by a promise as a Frog and wasn’t entirely free.

Encrid told her to do so.

“Don’t raise your speech with me. Don’t use honorifics.”

Then he added words filled with insistence. Encrid nodded.

He was busy preparing for tomorrow.

He had used up all his whistling knives.

If their opponent, the cultist, wasn’t a fool, they wouldn’t withdraw so easily.

Seeing them retreat today, they’d come back again. They likely pulled back quickly to preserve their forces.

‘The ladders can be remade.’

Seeing him push himself, they might try another attack.

‘Should I bait them?’

Now that he had shown what he could do, he felt confident.

“We need to catch the cultist, right?”

He asked Luagarne. It was clear that leaving now would be problematic.

“Of course.”

Good, it seemed feasible.

Krais approached and whispered,

“I think they’ll come again tomorrow.”

Krais was a sharp guy with a quick mind. He was perceptive too.

“I’m thinking of baiting them.”

“Ah, that sounds good.”

With just a few words, Krais quickly came up with a strategy that seemed likely to work. No, it seemed like it would definitely work. Krais had a knack for instantly grasping the enemy’s intentions and moving in a particular direction.

They took a full day of rest. No one disturbed Encrid.

They couldn’t relax entirely, as some of the retreating monsters were still within range.

The only difference from the previous day was that there was a surge of morale.

“Are we going to let those monsters take our village?”

Something Encrid had done ignited a fire in everyone’s hearts.

Before that fire could die down, the morning sun rose.

The monsters brought makeshift ladders again.

This time, they had prepared hooks tied to the ends of ropes.

It looked like something made by binding tree trunks together, there weren’t many, but they seemed like they could be quite effective weapons.

“Bastards.”

Deutsche ground his teeth.

Encrid opened the gate again.

And he repeated the actions of the previous day.

His body recovered, just as it was said to create a ‘regenerative body’.

With the Isolation Technique supporting his body, he managed without issue.

They caused another uproar.

As the name ‘Slaughterer of Monsters’ began to spread, after a short but intense battle, Encrid coughed up blood.

“Ugh!”

It was a clear sign that he had overexerted himself for two days.

Beside him, Luagarne deliberately showed an opening and had her left arm cut off.

A knoll bit into the severed arm and lifted it.

Grrrr!

It seemed like a cry of victory.

Though the monsters and beasts retreated once more, Encrid was spitting blood, and Luagarne had lost her left arm.

On the third day, the monsters attacked again.

“Aren’t they getting tired of this!”

As the shout from the mercenary atop the wall rang out, Encrid once again stepped outside the fortress.

Despite fighting and spitting blood, Encrid lasted for an even shorter time than the day before, before retreating. Dark shadows began to form under his eyes.

By now, the number of beasts had been halved.

This meant that nearly five hundred monsters had been cut down, slashed, or stabbed by Encrid’s hand.

It was an incredible achievement in just three days.

Yet, Encrid eventually collapsed, his limbs hanging limp, and was carried back by the vigilantes.

The number of arrows flying at them had also decreased.

The wooden barricades held firm once more.

It seemed that they only needed to hold out for two or three more days.

The next day, with even darker circles under his eyes and a paler complexion, Encrid stepped forward again.

Though he seemed to be at the peak of exhaustion, he burned brightly like a candle, using his life force to light up his surroundings, and displayed ghost-like prowess once more.

“Ugh! Monster Slayer!”

The deep-voiced shout of a vigilante.

Inspired by him, twenty vigilantes ran out and engaged in close combat.

They fought in preparation for a retreat at the front of the barricade.

Thanks to their efforts, there were no fatalities.

It was still a close call, though. The barricades had taken more damage, and it seemed they would be at risk even without ladders.

That day, Encrid truly seemed like a monster slayer.

He reduced the number of beasts by a hundred, just like on the first day.

With fewer than three hundred remaining, there were no ghouls left, and the number of beasts had significantly decreased.

There were only about two hundred knolls and fewer than a hundred hyena beasts.

So, the fourth morning dawned.

* * *

The cultists thought they could wear them down to death.

Of course, seeing Encrid’s exploits, they wanted to run away immediately.

‘A Knight! At least a junior Knight!’

A Knight was an unbeatable force, so fleeing was the right move.

As they started to retreat, they noticed something lacking.

They were supposed to be inhuman.

Once, they almost died from an arrow thrown by a junior Knight from over fifty paces away.

The cultists knew their power well.

But this was the frontier.

What would a junior Knight be doing here?

There were no Knights here.

In the Kingdom, there were at most thirty Knights.

Among them, only one or two could be called Knights.

They were strategic weapons, capable of changing the course of battles.

The Knights’ forces were usually composed of junior Knights, who could also change the course of battles.

In the continent’s battlefields, elite small forces were crucial.

‘But this is the frontier. Why would Knights come here?’

The Knights weren’t idle.

So, the opponent wasn’t a Knight or even a junior Knight.

He displayed incredible power, but retreated quickly.

He repeated similar actions the next day, fighting desperately like a sorcerer with a pawned soul, disregarding his own life.

‘Can they withstand this?’

The cultists endured. After several days of harassment, the enemy began to spit blood.

Only a Frog with a severed arm and villagers battered by arrows and stones remained.

“Heh.”

The cultist smiled in satisfaction. Now, they would lead the beast horde to devour, chew, and consume everything.

In doing so, they would fulfill the dream of unleashing monsters upon this land.

This was how they would proclaim the will of their God.

In the end, even if things escalated and Knights or others arrived to destroy them, they would have already gained plenty from this place.

“Let’s go.”

The cultist led the beasts.

On the fourth morning, it was the day of reckoning. Previously, they hadn’t aggressively rushed all the way to the log barricades.

But now it was the endgame.

The cultist directed the beasts to batter the barricades. On top of the barricade, a panther could be seen. It must be somewhere nearby.

The panther had been by that madman’s side all this time.

It was only natural. Repeated circumstances create fixed ideas.

‘Come out, you scoundrel.’

As they pounded on the barricades, a voice came from behind.

“Krais was right.”

“Indeed.”

Startled, the cultist felt a chill down their spine. Turning quickly to look behind, they saw a man with dark circles under his eyes and a pale face, along with the Frog.

“You were hard to find.”

Said the pale-faced man, wiping under his eyes with a finger.

Something black smeared on his hand.

The man who should have been coughing up blood and lying around seemed strangely vibrant, with clear and healthy-looking skin. Was this just a trick of the eye?

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