A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Encrid was cleaning his boots and gloves, then wiping his sword with an oiled cloth.

Dealing with the previous beast horde had attracted merchants.

That meant Encrid would soon have a new sword.

The Valyrian steel of his broken sword was melted down.

Then mixed with Noir wrought iron.

Combining two high-quality steels recognized across the continent.

“No one else could do this.” the blacksmith boasted.

And rightly so.

Though he couldn’t forge magical swords, his skill in handling steel was on par with any magician.

He was renowned within the Border Guard.

Of course, you could say he was only barely famous within the city.

But that was something.

In the end, having that artisan make his sword meant a lot.

Even Ragna, who was picky about weapons, especially swords, gave a nod of approval.

“It’s passable. Though not great for my use.”

This half-nod came with such a comment.

Encrid carefully wiped the blade with the oiled cloth and flicked his finger against the blade.

Ting.

A rather pleasant resonance rang out.

For Encrid, it was the first time he had a sword of such quality.

So, how could he not be satisfied?

Ragna, who was never easily satisfied with swords, would use any scrap of metal lying around.

He was so reluctant to sharpen his chipped arming sword that Encrid had to do it for him.

Otherwise, he would have just carried around the chipped sword.

“Esther, that’s not a toy.”

Encrid finished tending to his sword and gently soothed Esther.

There were a few items they had taken after killing the corpse lover wizard in the sewers.

He had told Krais to sell them off.

One of the items was so troublesome even for the back alleys that he just kept it.

“The cover was made of human skin. Was there really a magician in the sewers?”

That was Krais’s reaction when he handed over the items.

It sounded like he didn’t believe they had killed a magician in the sewers.

“You didn’t believe it?”

“I did believe, but now I believe a little more.”

…That sounded like he didn’t believe it.

“So, that one is hard to deal with, but the staff and the rest, yes, they sold well.”

There are many people in the world who desire rare items, according to Krais. Encrid had no interest in that field.

So, they sold the black wooden staff and some stones.

The staff was a crude item made by a magician.

The stones were related to alchemy, but nothing significant.

Thus, with the tribute promised to the Gilpin Guild, the money from selling the magician’s items, the payment for completing the commission, and the money from killing the magician, Krais purchased a sword.

The Noir wrought iron was initially very expensive.

So the Krona was not wasted.

“If only there had been a bit more Valyrian steel.”

“Spending that much money on a single sword.” Krais remarked, but Encrid was satisfied.

What could be more important to someone who lived by the sword than a good weapon?

Even if it’s consumable, if it could provide superiority in a life-threatening fight, why save the Krona?

“This will do.”

There was still the grimoire left, but since it was bound in human skin, it was unsettling, so they wrapped it in a thin cloth and stored it away. Esther found it and brought it back to its place.

What would happen if she peed on it?

What is a grimoire?

It’s a treasure where a magician records and fills in what they’ve learned throughout their life.

It has a grand name, “The Path of Magic”, due to its importance.

Now, the grimoire was being used as a mat by a panther.

‘Is it okay to leave it there?’

At least she wouldn’t pee on it.

Esther never relieved herself in front of the squad members. Maybe it was a feline habit, but she always did it somewhere hidden.

She also bathed frequently.

Encrid decided not to worry about the grimoire.

He didn’t know its value.

But if he tried to take it now…

“Hiss!”

Esther rarely hissed like that.

“Leave it. She seems comfortable.” Rem commented, and Encrid nodded.

Thus, they had sold the legacy passed down by the dying magician to purchase a sword.

Encrid continued his training.

He woke up earlier than sunrise every day, starting his routine a bit sooner.

As a Platoon leader, he had duties only once every ten days.

Usually, these duties involved supervising patrols or sentries for four to six hours.

Since he no longer had to perform regular duties, he had more time and started his day earlier.

Encrid began his day two hours before the regular soldiers woke up.

“Meow.”

One morning, after setting Esther down, he went outside.

The cold hadn’t fully dissipated yet, and the morning air carried a biting wind.

This was what they called a cold wind.

In that wind, Encrid began by regulating his breath.

He started with the “Isolation Technique”.

He moved his body to generate heat and used heavy stone equipment to put a load on his muscles.

As his body warmed up, Audin came out of the barracks, stood beside Encrid, and also began the Isolation Technique.

“Good morning, Platoon Leader.”

Was this a gesture of respect?

Now the title “Platoon Leader” was attached before the term “brother”.

Hearing that reminded him of the Company Commander’s promise to soon fill the ranks of his squad.

“Focus.”

As he got lost in his thoughts, Audin immediately reprimanded him.

“Got it.”

A scattered mind couldn’t properly perform the technique.

The focus on breathing and muscles was essential.

This was what Audin emphasized.

So Encrid did just that.

He continued to train his body rigorously.

It wasn’t just the Isolation Technique he practiced.

His belief in honing his skills remained unchanged.

‘The Heart of the Beast,Sense of the Blade, Focus Point, Isolation Technique.’

Sword techniques, including the Middle Sword Style.

Application of swordsmanship.

The ability to assess an opponent’s level of training and specialty by observing their body.

Predicting attacks based on intuition and sixth sense.

Among his swordsmanship, he also had the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique he originally possessed.

‘Can I utilize it, or should I discard it?’

There was no need to discard it. That was Encrid’s conclusion.

How to utilize what one has depends on one’s capabilities.

‘If my capabilities are lacking, then I just need to improve them.’

Boldness is always necessary. Its value is proven by not closing one’s eyes at critical moments.

Encrid viewed the Heart of the Beast as the foundation of everything.

‘Calmly.’

Some days he trained his sixth sense.

Other days he combined sensitivity and concentration.

‘Mix it and engrain it into my body.’

Every swing of the sword encapsulates various experiences.

It’s a process of learning through intuition, recognizing with the mind, and then engraving it back into the body.

Of course, it was never easy.

Through this process, Encrid gradually established his own patterns and methods.

‘Training alone isn’t enough.’

What was necessary was actual combat.

Real combat that combined training and practice.

Ideally…

‘Real combat where my life is on the line.’

“As I said before, fighting with your life on the line and surviving teaches you a lot. But with only one life, building skills that way doesn’t make sense.”

Rem’s joking remark was the truth.

Now he understood the importance of life-or-death combat.

Of course, the goal wasn’t to die, but to repeatedly overcome death.

Knowing the necessity of real combat, Encrid took on commissions.

From trivial to intense ones.

He didn’t shy away from any.

“What have you been asked to find?”

“My cat, for starters.”

It was a commission from a noblewoman. Was it wrong for the squad to take on such a request?

No, it was necessary, so they did it.

Encrid didn’t avoid any commissions.

In any situation, at any moment.

‘I believe everything helps with training.’

He repeated this to himself and genuinely accepted it.

Encrid found the cat up a tree.

“Let’s go quietly.”

The cat was ready to flee. This was visible within the realm of his intuition and sixth sense.

Absurdly, this too became an insight.

He moved the cat’s instincts as he intended.

With a surge of killing intent and presence, he made the cat jump down from the tree.

Catching it in his arms, he subdued it with his gaze.

Now, even this was possible.

“Because I’ve opened the Gate of Sixth Sense.”

Jaxon added. Now, Jaxon no longer harassed Encrid at every opportunity.

The period of suffering under killing intent was over.

It no longer had any meaning.

The commissions ranged from finding a cat to…

“Someone committed a robbery and hid in the city?”

There was such a request too.

A drifter had entered the city and done something foolish.

“Find them.”

When they took over the Gilpin Guild, they hadn’t known it would be so useful.

Krais, having anticipated this, skillfully handled what needed to be done.

It was in an alley gambling den.

A retired soldier with a scar on his forehead.

“Want to fight me? Damn, coming to the outskirts, you experience all sorts of things. They say the Border Guard is quite something? Come on, let’s see.”

Confidence, but did he have the skills to match?

It didn’t seem so.

It was a good opportunity to test his honed judgment.

Pretending to be slightly outmatched, Encrid tested his opponent’s moves.

‘At best, intermediate to advanced.’

Judging by the Naurillia soldier ranking system, that was accurate.

There were no unexpected skills.

“Huff, huff, who are you?”

“Border Guard Reserve Unit.”

With that, Encrid suitably broke the offender’s leg and transported him to detention.

The captured individual would be incarcerated within the squad’s prison, and unless someone paid his bail, he would likely never be released.

“Just you wait.” he muttered, but it seemed unlikely they would ever meet again.

Subsequently, there were several instances when Encrid was dispatched to quell disputes among merchant caravan guards at various inns.

One of those individuals displayed considerable skill.

In engaging with him, Encrid used the opportunity to train by blending Focus Point and Sense of Blade techniques.

Maintaining focus while having the Gate of Sixth Sense open was crucial.

Although he had practiced this before, he realized anew that the difference in concentration could change many things.

‘Slow down.’

The opponent’s sword appeared slower, not as it used to be, but still perceptibly.

This was due to his precise prediction and the actual difference in cognitive speed.

Everything was a continuum of training and further training.

While handling various commissions, Encrid’s dedication became a topic of conversation among the soldiers.

“Is he mad about commissions or what?” they started saying.

It wasn’t criticism.

“Does he have ten bodies? Why doesn’t he rest? Why don’t you rest?”

“He’s not human. Not a human.”

It was more surprise and admiration than criticism.

“He’s not a Platoon leader for nothing.”

“Damn, maybe I should start waking up early and practicing with my spear.”

Thanks to Encrid, a sudden training craze swept through the unit.

His skill proved his worth, and his reputation among the soldiers was exemplary.

The rumor that he was at least at the level of an advanced soldier contributed to his appointment as a Platoon leader.

Some soldiers even owed their lives to Encrid.

These factors combined to create a fervor for training within the unit.

Soldiers began waking up a bit earlier to train their bodies.

Encrid, however, paid little attention to this.

He was too preoccupied with securing his own path forward.

Throughout his training, Encrid felt a gentle flame burning within his chest.

How had he felt when he first went into battle?

He didn’t experience fear, but neither did he find it enjoyable. The battlefield was not a welcoming place.

‘This doesn’t seem normal.’ he thought.

Now, however, he looked forward to the battlefield. He wanted to go out and fight. He wanted to prove himself, to display his skills. He wanted to put his life on the line and cross the line of death once more.

It was indeed a mad thought.

And then…

“Do you know there’s a fine line between extraordinary and insane?” Rem’s words echoed in his mind.

If the path to extraordinariness was only open to the insane, then he needed to be insane.

On a day filled with training and commissions…

“It would be fun to spar again.”

The Company Commander called Encrid to his private training ground and said this.

“A duel?”

Naturally, Encrid did not refuse.

“Sure.”

The situation was the same as before. Would the result be the same too?

That was uncertain.

Encrid still couldn’t gauge the true extent of the Commander’s skills with his own judgment.

But he didn’t think he would be outmatched as before.

Of course, all of this would be determined by actual combat, whether with hands or blades.

Soon, the Company Commander straightened her hand to form a knife-hand and said,

“Let’s use this today.”

This felt like a test.

Previously, it was a duel with the Company Commander that made him realize his shortcomings.

What he had lacked then was close combat skills.

Things like wrestling.

Encrid nodded.

Soon, their knife-hands met in the air.

Tap.

The brief sound of their clash was their greeting.

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