A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

As the ferryman of the Black River said, Encrid’s daily life was similar to repeating today over and over again.

It was a life solely devoted to training.

“Control, control, control yourself.”

The sparring with Rem focused on Encrid mastering his body and sword perfectly.

Sometimes the chilling aura made Encrid feel like he was being watched, a skill of Jaxon’s piercing gaze.

Jaxon had the ability to make someone’s body tense up just by looking at them.

Even a slight lapse in focus felt like it could be deadly.

Though Jaxon didn’t actually do anything, his gaze alone made one feel that way, which was maddening.

Finding Jaxon who constantly emitted a murderous aura was also part of the training.

Encrid tried to broaden his auditory and sensory perception for this, but repeatedly failed.

The concept of the ‘Gate of Sixth Sense’ was beyond his grasp.

“This isn’t easy.”

Jaxon stubbornly repeated the same actions.

Encrid started to lose weight.

The training was that hard to endure.

However, he never said to stop.

“Stop it already. You sly alley cat. You’re so annoying.”

“Did a barbarian sense my killing intent? I must have lacked subtlety.”

“You deliberately let it slip, yet you speak so well. Where is my axe? My axe to split the alley cat’s head.”

Seeing Encrid wasting away, Rem would occasionally intervene, which naturally led to arguments.

Then, Encrid would stop Rem from swinging his axe to the rhythm.

“I’m doing this because I want to.”

“Damn it. I’m telling you to do it in moderation, moderation.”

Despite saying “moderation”, Encrid never had a day without bruises all over his body.

Thanks to Rem’s punches and axe strikes.

Rem didn’t know how to take it easy either.

Encrid wondered if Rem had any right to say that, but he never told Rem to stop.

If he hadn’t trained his body with the Isolation Technique, what would have happened?

He probably wouldn’t have been able to endure as he was now.

Audin would ask whenever he got the chance.

“If it’s too hard, you can rest, brother.”

This guy seemed more like a devil’s priest than a god’s.

“Rest if it’s hard. It’s okay to stop.” He always said these things.

They were indeed the whispers of the devil.

“Shall I?”

“Then it seems your mental strength needs training as well.”

He would rush over immediately.

“Mental strength comes from physical power. Here’s a secret just for you, brother. Mental strength actually comes from muscles.”

A joke like that would only add more weight to the day’s training. The Isolation Technique and wrestling would become more intense.

This crazy priest had a hobby of tormenting people by mimicking a devil.

But it wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

Sometimes, just sometimes.

When he felt too exhausted and wanted to rest, Audin’s devilish whispers would indeed help Encrid regain his focus.

“Today, I want to rest a bit.”

Knowing how Audin would react, Encrid said it deliberately.

Then, Audin would smile broadly and say, “It seems you can handle it.”

It was a provocation, and the subsequent training that Audin prepared for Encrid would be intense.

It was exhausting and grueling.

No one would say it wasn’t tough.

However, the results of the diligent training were accumulating in his body.

Although he still couldn’t block Rem’s axe when it became a beam of light.

He could block two out of three axe swings that whipped like a lash without losing his balance.

During sparring with Ragna, he became better at reading moves.

Previously, he struggled to see even one step ahead, but now his strategies to weave several feints and make his opponent move according to his intentions were becoming sharper.

Though Ragna and Rem were distinctly different opponents, both were beneficial to Encrid.

Detecting Jaxon’s killing intent was still a blocked path, however.

‘The Gate of Sixth Sense.’

How many times had he repeated the process that gave him goosebumps all over his body?

The thought of constantly having to endure that gaze, that killing intent, was chilling. It was terrifying.

As dreadful as repeating today over and over again.

He had encountered assassins twice. Both times, he had to repeat the day, but he had never felt such intense killing intent.

They say a well-trained assassin doesn’t show any killing intent at all.

Encrid recalled the assassins he had met.

The first was in the medical barracks.

‘It was more of a sound than a killing intent.’

Was that guy a clumsy one?

The second time, when dealing with the mixed-blood fairy who threw the whistling knife, he tried not to miss any of the fairy’s movements, even a slight twitch of the fingers. He had to stare intently with wide eyes.

Both were far from utilizing intuition.

The harsh winter at the end of the four seasons was beginning to recede slowly.

Though it couldn’t yet be called warm, the days were gradually getting milder.

Rain falling instead of snow at the expected time would signal the start of a new year with spring rain.

Though the cold would linger for a while.

That’s typical for this region, where winters are long.

Thinking of assassins naturally led to other thoughts.

‘They said they were persistent, but are they not coming anymore?’

The Gray Hounds, a special unit proud of Aspen, were relentless.

Hadn’t he felt that firsthand?

‘Sending an assassin to take down a single soldier.’

He was aware of it, but there was no sign of an impending attack.

To be honest, even if someone was targeting him now, he wondered if he could react.

He was too busy dealing with Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon.

‘Somehow, I’ll manage.’

Right now is not the time to worry about the Gray Hound or the Gray Cat.

‘A gift for my future self.’

The time spent today on his body, the training resulting from it, is always a gift.

Tomorrow’s self will accept today’s pain as joy.

* * *

Mitch Hurrier cast away the chill of winter from the center of the training ground.

His body moved and his sword swung, steam rising from his whole body. Mitch forgot the cold.

He thought only of the sword, himself, and his opponent.

He swung and swung again.

As soon as he recovered from his sickbed, Mitch Hurrier acted like a man possessed by the sword.

He used a training sword with a thickened blade for added weight.

That sword drew several lines in the air before stopping with its tip pointed skyward at an angle.

Then, Mitch’s arm muscles tensed, and the sword tip slashed through the air.

Swish—

From top to bottom.

Anyone with a keen eye would have been chilled by the strike.

The sword drew a line perpendicular to the ground, its tip unwavering, creating a perfect straight line.

It was remarkable to see such a precise strike after hours of wielding a sword three times heavier than an ordinary longsword.

Mitch Hurrier became a tree nourished by the fertilizer of defeat.

‘Therefore, I cannot die like that.’

While he lay sick, he heard that an assassin was sent to the one who had knocked him down.

He was incredibly annoyed by that.

But the assassination failed.

That pleased Mitch.

‘You must die by my hand.’

And it must be on the battlefield.

Since losing to the soldier named Encrid, surpassing him became Mitch Hurrier’s reason for living and his life’s goal.

“It looks good, but it also looks bad.”

His father sternly reprimanded Mitch for becoming a madman obsessed with the sword. Such behavior was not what the head of the family would want from a family member.

But what did that matter?

Better than selling out the name of the Gray Hound to send assassins in the name of family honor.

‘I’m much more decent.’

Mitch laughed.

He looked forward to and longed for the day he would meet his opponent who had struck him down on the battlefield.

And it was not a vain hope.

Considering the large-scale military gathering in Aspen in response to his defeat by the enemy’s knight in the previous battle.

‘See you on the battlefield.’

The opponent’s face remained vividly in Mitch’s memory. He would never forget it.

It was the first time he had lost like that.

Thanks to that, he became a training addict who never left the training ground for the first time in his life.

The Battalion Commander of the Gray Hound unit stopped the plan to send more assassins after seeing Mitch’s condition.

“If you meet him again, can you take him down?”

“I will meet him. And I will kill him.”

Hearing Mitch’s response, the Battalion Commander put an end to the assassin issue. There would be no need to send anything to that soldier again.

* * *

“I take back what I said about you changing. That seems more accurate.”

Rem said this after their sparring session ended.

“It feels like you’re stagnating.”

The foul-mouthed barbarian rarely directed such harsh words at Encrid.

“Whenever your skills seem to improve, you stop. Is that a habit of yours?”

Encrid didn’t bother to argue.

It wasn’t hard to understand why he said that.

That’s how it usually is. Just when the teacher shows passion, the student’s growth halts.

It could be frustrating to watch.

Rem wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“It’s strangely unadaptable. You picked up the basics so quickly, yet your application of them is lacking. Normally, such rapid improvement would indicate talent, but it feels like you’re just barely keeping up, Squad Leader. You did improve significantly in a short time, though.”

Ragna could be sharp at times.

In any case, he echoed Rem’s sentiments.

Audin was similar.

“Brother, the only way to make your body move as you want is through training. Repetition will get you there. Usually, that’s how it is, but you, Squad Leader Brother, are a bit slow.”

He found a long way to say that Encrid was treading water.

Jaxon didn’t say much.

Whether it was the Gate of Sixth Sense or not, Encrid hadn’t grasped it from the start.

It was a morning training session. Standing troops fundamentally devoted themselves to training their bodies.

They weren’t professional soldiers for nothing.

Everyone was training their bodies in that place.

Rem, occupying the middle of the long corridor and focusing on training, suddenly stopped.

“Let’s call it a day.”

“Agreed.”

Rem left Encrid and went inside the quarters.

He hadn’t given up. Such a thought never crossed his mind.

It was just that simple sparring wasn’t what was needed right now.

“Real combat.”

As he muttered upon entering the quarters.

Esther glanced up at him.

The eyes of the other squad members also flicked towards Rem.

Soon, Ragna, Audin, Rem, and Jaxon agreed for the first time since joining the squad.

When Encrid came inside, Jaxon grabbed his arm and said,

“Take on a mission.”

“Huh?”

“It’s time you need real combat. We’d love to throw you onto a battlefield and have you survive, but that’s not possible right now.”

Rem added.

Everyone seemed to agree. Encrid was surprised at their attitude.

‘I knew they wouldn’t give up, but…’

He didn’t expect them to unite and discuss something like this.

It was amazing enough that the lazy Ragna was being proactive.

All four were of one mind and one purpose.

It was a scene Encrid never imagined he would see, even in his dreams.

“Meow.”

Esther cried at his feet.

Encrid picked up the panther and said,

“I was thinking the same.”

He wasn’t throwing his life away to repeat today.

But, Encrid always honed his body and swung his sword in real battles and combat.

If he trained and disciplined himself, it was natural to want to test his skills.

Those naturally gifted would quickly overcome stagnation.

But he had no such talent.

What he lacked, he had to learn through physical toil.

‘If you’re blocked and stuck.’

You just have to do something. As always, whether it’s struggling or dancing, Encrid would grab at straws.

That’s how he lived his life.

“Let’s start taking on missions tomorrow morning. It would be great if there’s a beast hunt.”

“I heard there is one.”

Encrid had already looked into it.

“You’ve already thought about this.”

Jaxon said. Encrid scratched Esther’s head with his fingertips and replied,

“Yes.”

Jaxon had explained countless times.

What is the Gate of Sixth Sense?

To open it, you had to glimpse the realm of instinct.

Is it possible to perceive something with an invisible sense, not the five senses?

“It is possible. But it’s not really an invisible sense. When a beast hunts its prey or runs at full speed, where do you think that instinct to judge within seconds comes from? What about the sense that herbivores use to avoid predators?”

That was Jaxon’s definition of intuition.

Human senses aren’t just seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and touching.

There are other senses like balance, position, movement, and temperature.

The human body is composed of various senses.

If you fight with all your senses honed like a blade,you naturally learn to read, predict, and react to killing intent from the realm of instinct.

When that happens, you can dodge a sword even if it comes at the back of your head.

“Any knight can do it. Actual knights undergo such training.”

Encrid sensed Jaxon’s rough kindness in his last words.

It was uncharacteristic of him, yet it was a considerate gesture typical of Jaxon.

“Got it.”

Knight training is like this. So don’t give up.

He even got encouragement.

Since he used beasts as an example, he thought about encountering similar beasts.

Their instincts would be similar, and the killing intent they exuded would be more raw than Jaxon’s.

Of course, not everything went according to Encrid’s plan.

* * *

“A mission? Then handle this first. We’re really short on people.”

The next morning, just as he was looking for a beast hunt mission, a squad leader from the neighboring platoon barged in with a request.

It was a request to check out strange noises coming from a shoemaker’s shop at night.

Apparently, some undead monster seemed to be living underneath.

“If there was something like that in the city, it would have caused a commotion by now.”

“I know. But what can we do? Finishing a mission means more merit, doesn’t it? Just take care of it. If you have time, please help out. I used to help you with sewing, remember?”

Right, it was that squad leader. The one who had helped him sew when he first overcame the repeating days, the one who loved drinking.

Encrid eventually nodded.

He agreed and planned to just ease the shoemaker’s fears and leave. What kind of monster could be under a shop floor?

As he was getting ready at the quarters.

“Aren’t you going for the beast hunt mission?”

Jaxon, as usual, omitted honorifics from his speech.

“Yeah, I’m going after this.”

He had said he would go for the beast hunt after this.

It seemed like he could go right after finishing this task.

This real combat experience would be helpful in many ways.

‘From the sword to the senses, the heart, and how to use the body.’

He felt like he could grasp something by slaying beasts.

And so, he arrived at the shoemaker’s house.

“Here, look. I finally checked underneath and found this!”

The shoemaker was excited. Encrid was surprised too. There was a hole in the basement of the shoemaker’s house.

Inside, an artificial tunnel was visible.

“Wait, let me go in and take a look first.”

Listening carefully inside, he heard no sound.

Encrid spoke and then stepped into the hole the shoemaker had made.

‘I’ll need a torch.’

It wasn’t complete darkness. Thanks to the light seeping through the hole, he could see a bit ahead.

The slope was gentle. Going down wasn’t difficult.

After entering and walking a bit forward, he felt like he was walking through a dungeon created by a wizard or a monster.

He hadn’t walked far.

The light from the candle above still filtered in behind him.

Then he encountered a six-way intersection in the path.

“What kind of madman made this?”

He muttered to himself. It reeked of something man-made.

Encrid stepped into the first passage on the left.

There was no sign of anything. He walked a few more steps inside.

Crunch, crunch.

Except for the sound of the wind passing through the tunnel, there were no signs of life or other noises.

However,

Hum—

Soon, he heard a faint vibration.

Encrid saw a flash of light explode in front of him.

Bang!

There was a loud explosion, and it felt like hot iron spikes were piercing into his lungs and tearing through his insides.

Then his memory faded, and morning came again.

Naturally, Encrid knew what had happened.

‘I died.’

The last sensation left in his body was heat.

So, it was hot.

Now it was time to figure out how he had died.

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