A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

They wouldn’t wait for the enemy here, anyway.

“That was easy.”

Rem said as he spun his axe in his hand, blood droplets falling to the ground.

Seeing this, Encrid turned his body.

“Ragna.”

At the call, Ragna quickly followed his Platoon leader.

This was something Krais had repeatedly emphasized: never leave Ragna alone. It was a precaution because Ragna would undoubtedly get lost.

“Hey, barbarian, take it easy.”

Following behind the Platoon leader, Ragna threw out a remark. From Ragna’s perspective, it looked like Encrid was trying to step in but hadn’t had the chance. Not knowing when to engage and when to withdraw, the barbarian was bound to get scolded.

Of course, Rem didn’t quietly agree.

“Huh? What did you say? Do you want another mouth on your neck? Want me to slit your throat?”

“Enough.”

Encrid calmly intervened between them. It was just the beginning, after all.

They climbed back up the ridgeline. It should have been several times harder than coming down, but compared to what they’d been through with The Isolation Technique, it felt like child’s play.

This was the same for Rem and Ragna as well.

None of the crazed platoon members wielding axes and swords would be short on stamina.

“Alright, Finn, let’s go.”

Krais spoke as if it wasn’t the time to fight, urging them forward.

Finn nodded and started moving. They climbed over the ridgeline again.

Finn led the way, followed by Encrid, and then Ragna and Krais trailed behind.

Even Krais, who was relatively strong, didn’t lag behind.

Mac observed their movements, inwardly surprised.

‘They’re fast.’

Their steps were confident and unhesitant. It seemed like a forced march ignoring the loss of stamina, but none of them looked exhausted.

Mac decided it was best to focus on his own pace.

“Breathe slowly and deeply.”

This march—or was it an ambush? Strike mission? Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to end quickly. They needed to conserve their strength. Mac spoke, and Andrew nodded.

“I know.”

A short response came back, indicating he understood without needing further explanation.

Mac felt a sense of nostalgia. When had he grown up like this?

When this battle was over and they returned to the city, perhaps it was time to find his place.

“It will be tough. But, hmm, I don’t know. I’m looking forward to it.”

Andrew spoke, his gaze fixed on his Platoon leader’s back. Mac nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly, so that Andrew wouldn’t notice.

He, too, was looking forward to it.

How far would that Platoon leader go?

Would he truly grasp that something he dreamed of?

Mac had ears and a sense of awareness. What the Platoon leader desired was something beyond his current reach.

Andrew’s dream also seemed out of reach, possibly unattainable.

He was here to support him, but whether Andrew could revive his family was uncertain.

“There’s no giving up.”

Andrew muttered to himself.

The boy who once was just a brat, confident in his abilities and full of bravado, was no longer there.

Now, there was only a changed man, looking at the back of his Platoon leader.

“There’s no such thing as giving up.”

Mac replied with a tone of pride, though perhaps it wasn’t Encrid’s intention, Andrew had changed, and that change had also affected Mac. Reviving his family was something Andrew would now accept as achievable.

Mac began to walk, organizing in his mind what needed to be done once they returned. He moved, taking slow, deep breaths, minimizing unnecessary movements.

Andrew walked beside him, adjusting his breathing similarly.

As Mac and Andrew whispered, Encrid walked, listening to his platoon’s breathing.

“You keep listening and listening.”

Just as visual focus develops peripheral vision, auditory focus develops by distinguishing and processing sounds.

The sound of pebbles scattering, the steps on the ridgeline, and the breathing of the platoon members.

‘Shallow and steady.’

That was Mac and Andrew. Both were preparing for the future.

And Rem? His breathing was rough, without rhythm. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, it was hard to discern. It suited his personality perfectly.

Audin’s breathing was so long it was hard to tell when it began and ended.

Ragna’s was ordinary.

Jaxon was silent.

And what about his own?

If there was any similarity, it was most like Ragna’s.

Ordinary. He could breathe normally and move with practiced steps without issue.

“I’ve been curious for a while, did you get Ranger training somewhere?”

Finn asked, glancing back. Encrid replied casually, as usual.

“I learned by watching a Ranger I knew.”

It wasn’t untrue.

He had learned by watching Finn.

But somehow, it felt like they’d had this conversation before, with a similar answer. It reminded him of Enri. When asked about the plains, he had given a similar response.

He wondered if that friend had returned safely to the city. They had joined a unit transporting captured soldiers, so there shouldn’t be any trouble.

Even while pondering, Encrid didn’t stop what he was doing.

Listening, observing, feeling.

He trained his senses, walking. The ridgeline stretched out ahead, with the enemy on the right and their own camp on the left.

By now, their camp should be moving too.

Encrid focused on the task at hand.

Continuing his training, he suddenly asked Rem a question.

“What was that charge earlier?”

“If you’re asking how I did it, I almost want to smack you on the back of the head.”

Rem replied, sounding somewhat indifferent and clearly irritated.

Why?

Encrid soon understood the reason.

‘I asked without thinking.’

He had asked reflexively because he expected an answer to come. Perhaps it was a habit from issuing commands recently. People aren’t perfect, and Encrid was no exception.

He was fairly skilled in dealing with people, accustomed to advancing alone, and determined to move forward even if it meant crawling.

‘I lack something, I’ve forgotten to ponder.’

People make mistakes. The difference with Encrid was that he was quick to adapt. He acknowledged his mistakes, recognized them, and corrected them.

Encrid started walking without responding to Rem’s comment, retreating into his own world.

It meant he should have known the answer without asking.

The answer was already in what he had learned. What is needed for a sprint, a charge?

Strength, muscle, thigh muscles.

It’s the Heart of the Beast. What happens when you add strength to all your muscles and burst forward?

Of course, training and time for conditioning are needed.

But the path is visible, which brings joy.

Ah, so this is it.

A fleeting smile of delight crossed Encrid’s face, which made Rem chuckle.

Why ask about something so obvious?

That was the meaning behind his smile.

With Finn leading, they walked diligently.

As they walked, Finn was repeatedly surprised.

They were all like monsters.

No one lagged behind. Is this easy? No, it isn’t easy at all.

And they haven’t received Ranger training, right?

‘He’s different from his gentle appearance.’

The platoon member nicknamed ‘Big Eyes’ was particularly impressive. Even though he wasn’t considered a combatant, he kept up without falling behind.

Although, compared to others, he seemed to be following doggedly, relying more on stamina.

Even this was impressive.

They crossed over the ridgeline, stopping at a patch of short grass.

“This looks like the rear.”

What’s the best part about moving in small numbers?

The agility, which they utilized fully.

It was downhill again. This time, Audin and Jaxon followed.

“Ah, why?”

Rem pouted slightly, but it was originally planned to take turns. In case of trouble, they needed someone to cover their retreat, especially to protect Krais.

As they walked downhill, Encrid wondered if Esther was watching from somewhere.

They had brought her along, but as soon as they started up the mountain path, she had slipped away and disappeared.

Maybe she was hunting somewhere.

Who knows? It wasn’t something he needed to worry about.

As Encrid descended, they encountered an enemy guard.

This time, luck wasn’t on their side.

Beeeeeeppp!

As soon as the enemy soldier spotted them, he blew a whistle. It was a quick reaction. Then, he pointed the spear in his hand forward and shouted, “Who are you? Stop!”

Encrid approached silently. One of the guards brushed his hand against his waist. It seemed he had a knack for throwing knives.

A throwing knife was held backward in his hand, ready to be thrown.

‘See with your eyes.’

React with your body.

Move your body based on your senses, the key was to increase reaction speed.

This was a technique called ‘The Sense of Evasion’.

Whoosh.

A knife flew towards him. Timing his movement with the knife’s approach, Encrid lowered his stance and rushed forward.

It was different from activating ‘Focus Point’ and evading.

It wasn’t about concentration but reaction speed.

Calmly and unflinchingly.

That was the essence, so that was how he did it.

He mimicked the stride of a Knight charging into battle without activating the Heart of the Beast.

Pounding the ground, the enemy soldier thrust his spear.

The tip of the extended spear aimed for his chest.

He dodged and deflected it, all in one smooth motion.

Encrid stepped forward with his left foot, twisting his body to avoid the spearhead and pushed the spear shaft away with his palm.

With a solid thud, the spear was shoved aside, throwing the soldier off balance.

“Ugh!”

The soldier’s eyes widened in surprise as Encrid closed in, not slowing his pace.

Just as Rem had once demonstrated.

Encrid charged in, knocking the spear aside and closing in on the soldier.

The subsequent fight was predictably short.

Thud!

Encrid pulled out a dagger and stabbed the soldier’s neck, then withdrew it.

Blood spurted from the gash in the soldier’s neck.

Encrid sheathed the dagger, feeling somewhat satisfied.

‘It works.’

It was a technique he had practiced, not something he had repeatedly used in real combat.

‘The Sense of Evasion’ was an art that increased the body’s coordination.

He had learned something from this training.

Fundamentally, the body’s reaction speed had changed.

What result does that bring?

Even without ‘Focus Point’, he could move relatively faster than the enemy.

This meant gaining the upper hand in both attack and positioning.

The fight being short was inevitable.

Even if the enemy’s skills were poor and Encrid himself felt like he was just taking his first steps.

‘It works.’

That in itself was a joy.

Jaxon was pleased with what he saw Encrid do.

Yes, that’s how it should be done.

It’s basic but clean.

In less flattering terms, it was the result of brute force training.

In a more positive light, it was thanks to his steadfastness.

That was the core of this training.

Steadfast and steadfast again.

Wasn’t it a technique that suited Encrid well?

The training to develop the body’s coordination in response to senses would only make his reaction speed faster with repetition.

‘Did he say his dream was to become a Knight?’

Just because a dream seems far-fetched doesn’t mean one shouldn’t pursue it.

It was the same for him.

If he had spoken aloud the goals he held close as a child, no one would have refrained from mocking him.

His thoughts continued, but Jaxon’s hands were more diligently doing their job than ever.

He had already positioned himself behind an enemy soldier and slit his throat with a dagger.

Slash.

There was no need to make the blood gush like a fountain as Encrid had.

“Gah!”

The soldier, with his throat cut, grasped his neck with his right hand while holding his spear with his left.

Trying to press on the wound with his hand?

It was a futile effort. The major blood vessels in the neck were already severed.

With his extensive experience, Jaxon had seen countless people die from similar wounds.

Blood began to stream between the soldier’s fingers.

With a quick kick to the knee, he sent the soldier to the ground, where he lay dying like a fish out of water.

He had no strength to cry out or blow the whistle.

“Let’s go.”

They had swiftly dealt with two guards. The sound of the whistle had caused movement from deeper within the enemy’s ranks.

It was time to withdraw.

“Agreed.”

Encrid, showing satisfaction, responded and turned around.

It was time to move through the mountains again.

They moved again.

Walking diligently.

Their retreat was as swift as ghosts.

All that the advancing Aspen unit could see, responding to the whistle, was the backs of the figures ascending the mountain.

“Chase them!”

Shouted the furious rear commander of Aspen, and the enemy soldiers quickly pursued Encrid’s group.

But how could they catch up to a small elite unit that had already disappeared over the ridgeline?

They were faster than their pursuers, and if the enemy also pursued in small numbers, how would they deal with a counterattack?

To Krais, this was the expected outcome.

Why wouldn’t it be?

If the enemy could strike with a small elite force, then so could they.

Of course, it would only be meaningful with a squad like their Madmen Platoon.

“Quick march.”

Encrid’s voice could be heard behind him. Krais looked at his Platoon leader.

Did the Platoon leader understand his intentions completely? That made him wonder.

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