A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

From the beginning, escape was never an option.

Even if fleeing was the only answer.

‘There’s nowhere to go.’

Above all, a path forward was visible.

How could he turn back, leaving that path behind?

A signpost stood before Encrid, asking:

Can you scale the wall without a right hand?

If you lose your teeth, you chew with your gums, as they say.

Some village headman had once said that.

Encrid had liked those words.

If he had no sword, he would take up a spear.

If he had no weapon, he would fight with his fists.

If he had no arms, he would bite.

If he had no legs, he would walk on his knees.

‘So then.’

What remains if the right hand is gone?

Darkness, abyss, fear, pain.

These are what always gripped Encrid whenever death approached.

Yet, even in such darkness, Encrid always saw the light.

“Give up.”

It seemed like someone was saying that.

As if pushing himself to the worst situations.

It felt even more so when he said it himself, but in reality, it didn’t matter.

Why was that? He didn’t know. Encrid also knew the difference between himself and others.

How could he not?

He saw fellow mercenaries he used to eat with, one by one, retire.

Among other things.

“I can’t do it. With so many monster-like bastards around, what’s the point of swordplay? It’s madness.”

He had seen people collapse, envious of others’ talents.

Encrid was envious of such talents too.

But just being envious wouldn’t change anything.

He couldn’t let any day go by idly, rain or snow, he had to swing his sword even once more.

That was the only way Encrid knew.

So he did it.

Was it hard?

It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as if he was swimming through a sea of despair every day.

It was just something that had to be done.

So he just did it.

The same with death. Knowing that he just had to endure, he endured. That was all.

“For now.”

It seemed like he should try various things. He had learned from the repeated days before.

‘That there’s more than one path.’

Three paths.

If he could use everything that blocked him to repeat ‘today’, he would do so.

He knew that desperation alone wasn’t the answer as before.

Therefore,

“Good morning.”

He could start the morning with a smile and a greeting.

Esther stared at Encrid with tired eyes.

What kind of person is this, greeting so brightly in the morning?

That seemed to be what Esther’s eyes were saying.

“Sleep more.”

Encrid pushed Esther back into the blanket he had been lying in.

Usually, Esther would have squirmed, but today she quietly rolled back in.

After tucking Esther under the blanket, Encrid went outside.

“Phew.”

He took a deep breath and began to loosen up with the Isolation Technique.

As always, loosening up his body made his mind sharper.

“When the body is strong, the mind is also strong, brother.”

When Audin said this, Encrid thought it was nonsense.

But now, he could somewhat understand.

That’s how it actually turned out.

The more he trained his body, the clearer his mind became.

The more he sweated, the clearer his thoughts were.

The wrist with the splint hadn’t broken. It had been broken when he overexerted himself just before dying, but it had returned to its original state.

All the things he had trained for, the muscle building, the skills he had ingrained in his body, remained even if today was repeated. But injuries did not heal.

Injuries stayed with the body, and recovery required moving beyond today.

So, it was impossible to expect the right wrist to heal and climb the wall.

‘Relax the shoulders.’

Widen the view, sometimes deepening it.

Continue thinking and search for the best path.

And then proceed on the path found.

What should the first step be?

What else?

Continue what he was doing.

The same thing he did every day, the thing he repeated.

What he did before dying.

Training and conditioning. The only difference was doing it with the left hand instead of the injured right hand.

“Before you watch, tie this for me.”

Before starting, Vengeance, who had been watching from the side, approached as Encrid spoke up.

“Am I your servant? You’re asking me to do this?”

Vengeance grumbled but tightened the grip’s cord when Encrid handed him the sword.

It felt infuriating to see this guy lose his head.

The same feeling came when Esther was in trouble.

At the moment he saw those lake-like eyes and the black panther fly away, something like anger surged.

If he had to describe that feeling, it would be ‘damn’ or ‘hell’.

‘What did I do to make them want to die instead of me?’

A bitter feeling still lingered. Images of Vengeance’s severed head and Esther being knocked down floated in his mind like afterimages.

‘Why is Esther so low on energy today?’

What was that panther usually like?

It was fierce. A beast that clawed and bit soldiers’ shins and took lives.

Underestimating it because of its size was dangerous, it could swiftly climb up to the neck and bite through the throat.

Yet, did it go down so easily?

‘It did seem low on energy.’

In any case.

They were risking their lives for him.

So, Encrid decided to do the same.

To put his life on the line and swing his sword. If he could put his heart into training, he would do so.

“You really are crazy. You should rest when it’s time to rest.”

Vengeance said, handing the sword back to Encrid.

Encrid took it with his left hand and replied.

“I’m sorry about Jenny.”

“…Did you know?”

Vengeance ruffled his hair once and then spoke bluntly.

“I know it’s not your fault.”

This guy really is unusual.

His mood swings are intense.

He got so angry when he didn’t understand.

Encrid patted Vengeance on the shoulder with his injured hand.

“There’s probably a woman who doesn’t care to see your face somewhere on this continent.”

“…You bastard?”

Seeing Vengeance’s twisted face made Encrid feel a bit lighter.

Yeah, this is the feeling.

He could understand Rem’s attitude.

He didn’t tease and harass people for no reason.

Vengeance grumbled as he stepped back.

Encrid stood, gripping his sword. The tip, held in his left hand, pointed diagonally towards the sky.

What had he experienced in the repeated days, in the deaths of today?

He pondered the past, reinforced his basics, and immersed himself. He delved into his own world.

It was exhilarating.

A different kind of joy from before.

The kind of thrill that comes from being utterly absorbed in something.

In that moment, clearing his mind of the lingering afterimages from his banter with Vengeance, Encrid immersed himself completely in his world.

He relived the experiences of the past days.

He repeated and reflected.

This time, the leather strap wrapped around the grip did not snap.

“The beginning is the footwork.”

Countless swordsmanship instructors have come and gone.

Reflecting on their teachings.

The basics. Standing before walking, crawling before standing.

Returning to fundamentals. These are things to learn before delving into advanced techniques.

The repetitive training to make the sword move as desired.

Encrid did just that.

Swish! Hum, swoosh.

Amid the dull sounds, sharp noises occasionally mixed in.

He swung the sword numerous times, losing track of time.

Beeeep!

A long-toned whistle sounded.

“Hmm?”

Vengeance, who had been absentmindedly watching, was the first to react.

“What is it!”

He shouted, turning around, and Encrid also came out of his immersed state.

Nyaa.

Esther, sensing the change in the surrounding atmosphere, came out of the tent and stood beside Encrid.

Encrid touched Esther’s head with his fingertip and said,

“Don’t get involved today. You’re tired.”

What’s with this guy? Esther naturally wondered. It seemed like he knew she was exhausted today. Did he notice her attempt to relieve her fatigue yesterday?

Of course, he didn’t.

He just knew from the repeated experiences of today.

“Leader!”

Krais shouted as he ran towards them.

Encrid briefly planted the sword’s tip into the ground and pondered.

Should he switch to holding it with his right hand?

Would that make a difference?

Injuries don’t heal. If he dies, he just goes back to the start.

He uses his left hand.

He had already concluded that.

There was no dilemma. Encrid was not the type to deeply ponder and agonize over things.

There’s no option to be trapped in today.

There’s no option to run away.

So, he just has to find what he can do and do it.

This is it.

Thump.

He lifted the sword from the ground, knocking away some pebbles, and pointed it forward.

“…When I return, I should make an offering at the temple.”

Mitch Hurrier, appearing as he stepped on the gravel, said this. His hair was soaked, and he held a sword in his hand.

With a refined stance and sharp eyes, he was clearly different from before.

“What are you talking about?”

Vengeance, standing nearby, growled as he pointed his spear. Next to him, Esther actually growled, letting out a beastly roar.

A deep, resonant growl that spread from deep within her throat.

It was the kind of sound that would make a cowardly person’s knees tremble, yet Mitch Hurrier’s steps showed no hesitation.

He steadily closed the distance, unperturbed.

“I’ll go first.”

As Encrid stepped forward, Krais shouted urgently from behind.

“Leader, your wrist!”

Krais, with his large eyes, seemed visibly shocked.

Enemies had suddenly attacked, and their allies were falling left and right.

Screams and shouts filled the air.

“Damn it! Stop them!”

“Kill them!”

The clanging of metal resounded all around.

Mitch Hurrier’s steps halted.

Encrid responded to Krais, “My left hand is fine.”

What kind of crazy talk is that?

Krais widened his already large eyes, unable to comprehend the leader’s nonsensical words.

It sounded like complete nonsense to everyone present.

However, despite his words, Encrid’s spirit was unwavering, matching his opponent’s intensity.

The enemy’s aura pressed down on the surroundings.

Vengeance felt himself shrinking under the weight of it.

This must be what it means to be overwhelmed.

Even Esther felt the pressure.

Krais, too, was keenly aware of the danger, knowing there was no help to be had from the surrounding soldiers.

He understood they were in a life-or-death situation.

Yet, even amidst this pressure, why did Encrid’s back seem so imposing?

He stood there, in front, showing his back.

Those few facts seemed to push back against the oppressive force.

Spirit meeting spirit.

Yes, it seemed like something visible.

A silent exchange of glances occurred between Mitch Hurrier and Encrid.

“I hoped to meet you again.”

“You must have opened your eyes thanks to me, right?”

At those words, Mitch’s brow furrowed slightly. Shaking the opponent’s resolve with words was a fundamental tactic of the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

Encrid waved his injured right hand as if to make a point.

Mitch reflexively moved his sword.

Using words to startle him and the motion of his right hand to deceive him again, Encrid then thrust the sword in his left hand from below.

It was the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique’s dual-wielding thrust.

The left-handed thrust wasn’t perfect. It didn’t fully satisfy him.

He had only been using his left hand for about two days.

Thud!

It was blocked.

The clumsy thrust was one thing, but more importantly, Mitch Hurrier’s skills had noticeably improved.

In some ways, it was almost as if he had been repeating the day like Encrid.

He deflected the upward thrust with his own sword and moved his left foot forward in one smooth motion.

Mitch’s sword traced a graceful arc as it slashed across Encrid’s chest.

Slash.

Encrid reflexively stepped back, and his leather armor absorbed the blow from Mitch’s sword once.

But that was its limit.

Roar!

From behind, Esther tried to leap in again.

“You crazy bastard!”

Vengeance shouted angrily.

“Leader!”

Krais called out.

Mitch Hurrier remained unfazed by anything around him.

He continued his actions, regardless of the commotion.

As if anticipating Encrid’s retreat, he switched the positions of his feet, stepping forward and thrusting his sword.

Thrust!

“Your right hand?”

Mitch asked as he thrust. Encrid showed his right hand, splinted and injured.

“Hmm.”

As Encrid tried to respond, crimson blood spilled from his mouth.

“Just unlucky.”

Crunch.

The blade was withdrawn. A person with a split heart cannot survive.

Behind him, Krais shouted something, and Vengeance and Esther lunged forward.

Despite everything, why did they keep attacking?

After such events, Encrid encountered the abyss of darkness with pain.

Death came again.

And when he opened his eyes, he repeated his left-hand training.

Some days, he quietly focused on training.

Other days,

“Jenny had a keen eye for things.”

“…I’ll kill you.”

He would tease Vengeance for no reason.

He repeated today about ten times.

“You hurt your right hand!”

An agitated Krais shouted.

“I still have my left hand.”

“What are you talking about, seriously!”

Even though he tried to mix in the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, it didn’t work.

So, next, he mixed in wrestling techniques.

He threw the last whistling knife before drawing his sword, pretending to close the distance, and then tripped him.

Mitch countered by bending his knees and lowering his center of gravity, resisting Encrid’s attempt to trip him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Next came the task of swinging the sword again.

At first, he couldn’t last a single exchange, but after about thirty attempts, he began to endure two, three exchanges.

On the forty-second day, for the first time, an unexpected change occurred.

“Let’s have a sparring match.”

Vengeance, who had been watching, suddenly requested a duel.

Feeling the sweat dripping down his forehead, Encrid tilted his head in curiosity.

“With me?”

“Who else would it be?”

Encrid nodded. It was almost a habit, he never refused a duel.

Originally, Vengeance wouldn’t have been a match for Encrid, but now Encrid was using his left hand.

“No holding back.”

Vengeance said, pointing his spear forward with a fairly fierce stance.

Clink.

Encrid tapped the spear’s blade with his sword as a gesture of greeting.

The duel had begun.

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