A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Although she hadn’t reached the level of the “Gate of Sixth Sense”, she still had the instincts of a Ranger and Pathfinder.

Following behind her, Torres doubted if they were on the right path but shook his head inwardly.

‘Now’s not the time to hesitate.’

Once decided, they must go through with it.

He was also a member of the Border Guard and a soldier rated as a special class in the Naurillia military ranking system.

While not capable of taking on a hundred men alone, he was a valuable asset capable of handling two or three opponents by himself.

And then there was Encrid.

“I’ll go first.”

He didn’t wait for Finn to take the lead. He swiftly climbed the wall, placing his hands in the crevices.

He had discarded his tattered gambeson, and even though he had used some throwing weapons, the long sword hanging at his waist remained.

“What… what’s up with him?”

Finn, a Ranger herself, couldn’t help but notice that Encrid climbed the wall better than she did.

“I don’t know. Just follow him.”

“What?”

Torres realized his words sounded strange as he repeated them.

“I thought I knew a bit about him before, but now I don’t.”

“Anyway, just keep up.”

Encrid’s pace up the wall was rapid and graceful, almost like a work of art. It was as if he put monkeys to shame.

Without hesitation, he moved his hands and feet smoothly.

Finn followed closely behind.

Rushing up, she only had two stakes left to secure on the wall.

Looking down, Finn saw Torres struggling to keep up but managing nonetheless. He was a physically capable individual.

‘What about him?’

Finn looked up again.

Encrid had almost reached the top of the wall, crouching beneath the battlements.

The battlements were thick and tall structures designed for defense, making it difficult to climb over without skill.

‘Can he not climb that?’

It didn’t seem likely.

For Finn, she could just hang by her fingertips, pull herself up, and use her waist’s momentum to get over. It would be even easier if she hooked a small grappling hook she carried. Once over, she could help her comrades by pulling them up.

Regardless, it didn’t seem like Encrid was stuck because he couldn’t get over the battlements.

Hanging beneath the battlements, Encrid didn’t look fatigued.

He looked down and wiggled his fingers.

It was a simple hand signal, but its meaning was clear.

[Guards.]

There were guards on the other side of the wall.

Finn, however, didn’t sense any sounds or movements.

‘Is he more sensitive than me, a Ranger?’

In reality, Encrid wasn’t sensing anything either. It was simply experience guiding him.

Hanging beneath the battlements, Encrid pondered.

‘What kind of tricks are they up to?’

Blocking the sixth sense.

This was the one thing that, even after countless repetitions of today, Encrid couldn’t figure out.

It was certain that some spell was at work.

Otherwise, it wouldn’t be so peaceful.

In the small passage, they were already inside the tunnel. Feeling a sense of unease meant it was already too late.

Even if they had missed the pack of lycanthropes because this land, specifically in front of Cross Guard, was a place where monsters constantly roamed.

Had they not noticed the presence of troops hidden above the wall?

Clearly, some trick was at play.

Up to the sixtieth iteration of today, he had tried to figure out what that trick was.

‘Let’s leave it.’

It was a matter of importance. There were more crucial matters than the trick the wizard used, and his ultimate goal was clear.

Surviving today.

Training during that time.

Thus, moving forward with the sword as their guide.

Was it a problem if they gave up trying to figure it out?

There was absolutely no problem.

From what he had learned through repeating today.

‘It should be around here.’

Encrid, still hanging from the battlements, moved slowly to the left.

To hang on, there needed to be crevices in the wall.

The walls of Cross Guard were frequently under attack by not just regular monsters but sometimes even monster colonies.

As a result, there were many nicks and scratches.

Although repairs had been made, many crevices remained.

With fingers hooked in the gaps and toes wedged in, it wasn’t difficult for him to move.

As Encrid moved along the wall, he mentally pictured what lay beyond it.

At first, he could only predict and guess, but now he could even guess the location of the wizard Resha.

No, it was a certainty.

This arrogant wizard had never left his position in any of the repeated ‘todays’.

Having found his position, Encrid sent another hand signal.

[You go first.]

Seeing the signal, Finn and Torres began to move. Finn went first, followed by Torres.

Finn, hanging from the battlements, reached out to help Torres.

As soon as they both crossed over,

Fwoosh.

A bright light illuminated above them.

It must have been seven or eight torches being lit simultaneously.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight.

“How did you get here? Surely my minions were moving?”

Resha’s voice.

As expected, it was just beyond the wall.

She didn’t know him, but he knew her location.

That alone gave him an advantageous position.

He also knew her name and the spells she used.

“Damn it.” Torres cursed.

“It’s real.” Finn muttered, prompting Encrid to reach out.

Grasping the edge of the battlement with his fingertips, he pulled himself up with just one arm.

It was a testament to the strength that had impressed his squad members, including Rem. Moreover, the repeated practice of the Isolation Technique made his body feel lighter.

With a swift motion, Encrid lifted himself and flipped over the battlement, rolling through the air.

This acrobatic move, which once would have been impossible for him, was now within his capabilities thanks to his training.

He spun in the air and landed on the ground, knees bent, his impact resonating with a thud.

Right before him stood the wizard Resha, her eyes wide with surprise.

“You-!” she began to say, but before she could continue, Encrid moved.

A high-pitched whistle cut through the air—a Whistle Dagger.

Resha was startled but not panicked. She wondered where it had come from, confident in her defense.

She had an invisible barrier around her, created by her magic—a shield that could block even a quarrel shot point-blank.

As she waited for the dagger to strike her barrier, Encrid’s Whistle Dagger was aimed not at her but at the four soldiers with crossbows behind her.

Thunk, thunk.

The Whistle Daggers, guided by Encrid’s Focus Point technique, hit its mark precisely.

His training had paid off.

The four enemy soldiers fell, collapsing just as Resha reacted.

“Ha!”

She let out a strange cry, and thorny vines shot up from the ground, whipping around to strike at him.

The real fight was just beginning.

“Take out the soldiers first!”

Encrid drew his sword and shouted.

Shing!

He swung the drawn sword, his head feeling hot from intense concentration.

‘Cut through the thin ones. Deflect the thick ones.’

Encrid moved with the principles of light sword techniques, not relying on the heavy sword techniques he usually practiced.

Although he had never formally trained in this style.

“It’s good to know the basic principles of swordsmanship. Sticking to just one style like heavy sword techniques is foolish. You need to understand your opponent’s techniques to counter and fight effectively.”

Ragna, usually lazy and showing enthusiasm only when it was time to teach, had said this during one of his rare passionate moments.

From that day, Encrid had learned the basic principles of various sword techniques.

He had practiced against thorny vines over seventy times, and now, on the seventy-first repetition of this day, his efforts were paying off.

He cut the thinner vines and deflected the thicker ones.

Slash, crackle, thud.

Some of the thorny vines were as thick as an arm, hitting with the force of a club. Encrid blocked them with the flat of his sword and diverted them upwards, maintaining a low stance.

This was the light sword technique in action.

“You bastard!”

Resha was furious. How dare he evade her vines? A mere swordsman?

She moved her hands, summoning several thorny spears and whips.

Encrid didn’t rely on vague instincts.

Instead, he focused intensely, feeling as if all his concentration was centered in his eyes.

His eyes felt like they were burning.

In this state, he could see everything, as if each movement was slow.

He repeated his actions: deflecting, swinging, parrying, and cutting.

Feelings? He discarded them.

Sixth sense? It wasn’t necessary now.

There was no need to rely on instincts.

He could see everything, strike, dodge, and counter.

While dodging and deflecting two more vine attacks, he heard anguished cries around him.

The dying gasps of soldiers. Torres and Finn’s skills were not to be underestimated.

Especially with distractions, Torres’ abilities shone. He was skilled with daggers, something Encrid had witnessed firsthand.

“Fine, I’ll make you dance until you die.” he muttered, ready to continue the fight.

Resha held her anger inside, her eyes shining with a snake-like intensity as she stared directly at Encrid.

Encrid ignored her.

Hadn’t he seen this many times before?

The Heart of the Beast pounded as if speaking to him.

No, it was Rem. It felt like he could hear Rem’s voice.

“If you’re going to get caught by that, you might as well rip out that heart.”

Don’t worry, crazy Rem, I’m not going to get caught by something like that.

When he didn’t flinch even in the face of her death glare, the wizard’s vines grew fiercer.

Swish.

They became thinner and faster.

Whizz.

Up to now, most of Resha’s vines had taken the form of spears or whips.

But when pushed to the current situation, they took on the form of arrows.

Though not actual arrows, their thickness and the way they shot towards him were like that of arrows.

Could a human block a shower of arrows?

‘No.’

Not unless they were a knight, that is.

But if one had to.

If there came a moment when one had to fend off a rain of arrows.

If it was utterly unavoidable, what should be done?

‘What else?’

You brace yourself and prepare for it.

Call it a soldier’s spirit.

Or perhaps an infantryman’s spirit.

No, it was simply who Encrid was.

There was no giving up. No regrets.

He had staked his entire life on the path forward.

Gripping his sword tightly with both hands, Encrid focused, feeling a sharp pain in his eyes.

‘Connect the dots.’

Based on the lines connecting these points, he deflected them all.

Thin, twisted vines shot up from below, raining down from all directions.

The moment he confirmed that there were more than ten, he stopped counting.

Encrid dispersed his concentration around himself.

It was a technique he had realized amidst the pack of lycanthropes and the Gray Hound unit: dispersing concentration.

With it, he could evade attacks entering his range.

From the previous fight in the small tunnel, he also learned something.

Instantaneous judgment.

In every situation, acting without hesitation in the moment.

Encrid combined the two and executed his moves.

Slash, slash, slash.

Soon, the air in front of him was filled with torn vines, spilling green sap everywhere.

Resha’s forehead veins bulged, and her eyes were bloodshot.

The vines didn’t stop.

Nor did Encrid’s sword.

Finn and Torres, who were fighting the soldiers, glanced at the scene.

It seemed that simply saying Encrid fought well wasn’t enough anymore.

Torres thought this as he approached a soldier from behind and slit his throat.

Thud!

A quarrel bolt flew into the spot where the soldier had been standing, embedding itself in the dead man’s belly.

“Why don’t you aim more carefully?”

Crack. Aaaah!

At that moment, a scream came from the side.

It was Finn’s doing, moving across the ground like a snake. A soldier, his leg twisted in an unnatural direction, was foaming at the mouth.

Finn didn’t stop.

Stopping would mean getting hit by a quarrel.

Meanwhile, the battle between Encrid and the wizard continued, with no one able to approach the two.

Sharp thorny vines shot out like needles, occasionally bouncing off and hitting the surrounding walls.

No one wanted to be killed by their own wizard’s hand, so they all kept their distance.

This gave Torres and Finn a brief respite.

Seeing the sharp thorny vines piercing the walls, Torres had no desire to get closer either.

‘Is killing the soldiers really going to solve anything?’

Torres realized that the outcome of this fight depended on the duel between Encrid and the wizard.

If the wizard won, Torres and Finn would also be dead.

But how long could Encrid hold out?

Both Torres and Finn could see that Encrid was constantly in danger.

Up until now, he had been dodging the vines, but they had started to graze him.

In sync with this,

“Did you charge in relying on the leather scraps you’re wearing?” the wizard’s voice taunted, calm and confident, believing she had the upper hand.

‘This isn’t good.’ thought Torres.

And he was right.

Encrid was in continuous peril.

He was quickly reaching his limit.

However, this was the moment Encrid had been waiting for.

With Resha confident of her victory, and everyone, including Torres, Finn, and the enemy soldiers, focused on the duel, Encrid made his move.

His right hand, which had been gripping the sword with both hands, moved.

It was his decisive move.

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