A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Just endure a death-like experience that is much easier than actual death, just endure it, if only you can.

There was a living textbook. It demonstrated each movement in detail right before your eyes.

This was a good thing. A good thing, regardless of being a cursed sword or an evil spirit, at least for Encrid.

“Think about why you’re moving your left foot to the side there.”

There was also a teacher who meticulously interpreted the textbook.

So, this was only natural.

Encrid absorbed the swordsmanship like a sponge soaking up water. No, it was etched into his body first, and understanding came later.

He learned this while mastering the Sense of Evasion.

‘Is there a need to understand?’

When he didn’t understand, he just rolled his body to see. By repeating, he etched it into his body and left the understanding for later.“You’re definitely crazy, no doubt about it.”

Luagarne said with a hint of admiration. Encrid barely listened.

He was completely immersed in the swordsmanship at that moment.

In reality, it was incredibly enjoyable.

What was the original reason for learning the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique?

It was a thirst that began from within.

He wanted proper skills and swordsmanship. A foundation that would give him the strength to move forward.

“From the basics!”

It was what every teacher, every instructor, everyone who had taken his silver coins had said.

It wasn’t that it was bad or that he hated it.

Just.

‘It’s fun.’

As is natural for humans, he just wanted to see what came next.

Thus, Encrid gripped the sword repeatedly, smiling. A smile. A bright smile, a pure smile.

“Honestly, you’re starting to scare me.”

Luagarne said.

“I agree, it’s chilling.”

Finn agreed, while Krais was surprisingly calm.

“He’s always been like this, but it’s particularly intense right now.”

Krais had seen Encrid do countless crazy things. He was rather glad he was laughing.

It’s better than not smiling and silently swinging the sword until his palms burst.

Holding a cursed sword and experiencing a death-like state, it’s something Krais wouldn’t even dream of doing.

‘But I think the Platoon leader could endure it.’

It was just a thought that came to him. A blend of intuition and insight. Krais saw through the essence of it.

As long as there was the joy of growth, Encrid could transform the pain of death into effort.

He was that immersed. In the sword and himself, in swordsmanship.

A sword is a tool for killing people.

Swordsmanship is a method for killing the opponent.

“Feet, waist, posture, everything is for the next move. Think.”

With Luagarne’s words added.

Encrid kept thinking and swung his sword.

He kept holding the cursed sword without rest, in pursuit of an excellent textbook.

There were even times he released his grip and re-gripped right after dying.

After countless such attempts, it seemed as if the evil spirit hesitated.

Was that right? Did he see it correctly?

Encrid doubted it. It was strange that the thing that had always rushed at him didn’t immediately swing its sword.

It was truly something Encrid didn’t want.

“Let’s not do this. Let’s do our best from our respective positions.”

In their respective roles, the evil spirit was determined to dig into and stir the mind of the one wielding the sword, to do their best.

Hesitating was not what he wanted to see.

Encrid sincerely urged the evil spirit to fulfill its duty.

They charged, fought, trained in swordsmanship, learned, memorized, mastered, pondered, and reviewed.

He gripped the sword again.

And he repeated this.

If one knows how to use their body properly, if they can implement what they imagine exactly.

Then all that was left was to understand the movements.

By memorizing the entirety of a swordsmanship and hearing Luagarne’s interpretation of each move, it became an easy task.

If the creator who made the cursed sword and imbued it with an evil spirit saw this, they would grab Encrid by the scruff, but isn’t that how the world works? R̃

Things don’t always go as planned or expected.

“Well done.”

The evil spirit had its chest cut and neck severed. A blue light flickered between the pieces of metal, as if trying to say something.

Encrid silently watched the evil spirit.

Soon, the spirit within the sword spoke.

“Thank you.”

Thankful for what?

The spirit told its story. It was quite a long one.

“Make it short.”

Encrid didn’t particularly want to listen. The spirit was taken aback. The blue light dimmed. It spoke shortly and concisely out of necessity.

“I was wrongfully captured. And my swordsmanship is incomplete, a half-finished technique. Finding the other half was my lifelong wish.”

How does a mere swordsman become an evil spirit? It required the power of spells and incantations. And before that, it needed the deep resentment of the entity becoming the spirit.

The spirit’s wish was similar to Encrid’s.

One dreamed of being a Knight.

‘It’s the lost swordsmanship of my family.’

One wished to properly restore the swordsmanship.

In terms of desperation, they were similar.

Encrid nodded.

It meant that he would do it if given the opportunity. He was already busy pursuing his own dreams, he couldn’t shoulder someone else’s dream as well.

At the last moment, as the blue light flickered and vanished, a faint human figure appeared and spoke.

“And let’s not meet again.”

The spirit was tired. Exhausted. It truly never wanted to see someone like Encrid again. It was sincere.

Of course, there was little chance of them meeting again.

One would disappear, as the curse on the spirit was lifted, sending it far away.

The other would remain on this land.

The soul that had been an evil spirit was quite content with that.

“Really, let’s not meet again.”

It said the same thing once more.

Encrid tilted his head in confusion. Why say that when it was the spirit who had caused the trouble?

“The name of my family is…”

The last words were inaudible. The energy dissipated. Everything around began to crumble. Beyond the collapsing world, familiar faces came into view. As Encrid left the mental world, the spirit within the sword vanished.

“You won.”

Luagarne’s voice was heard. It was reality. Encrid nodded.

“Was it dangerous?”

Luagarne asked again, and Encrid shook his head.

It wasn’t dangerous. Once inside, the only thing that remained was swordsmanship.

It was a battle of wits. He had to overcome his opponent with swordsmanship, not strength.

He had gripped the sword well over a hundred times but didn’t bother to count.

It had taken a full day.

The gray barrier disappeared without a sound. As it vanished, Esther looked up and glared at Encrid.

It was certain. She glared.

Esther was surprised. How did he manage to do it?

Banishing an evil spirit through divine or magical means and purifying it physically by brute force are entirely different matters.

‘The latter is a challenging feat even for a highly skilled wizard.’

Currently a panther, Esther was once a sorceress and witch who mastered the realm of spells.

From her perspective, what Encrid had done was unbelievable.

Thus, it was both astonishing and curious.

‘How is that even possible?’

In reality, the soul was purified through relentless, almost deathly, practice of swordsmanship, and because the evil spirit conveyed its wish. However, Esther had no way of knowing this.

Esther blinked repeatedly in surprise, which Encrid noticed.

“What? Hungry?”

Encrid asked, waving his hand. Esther snorted in disbelief and lay back down. She decided it must have been a coincidence.

Even if she delved deeper, there would be no answers.

Encrid, watching Esther, felt a sense of admiration.

For a panther, she had a remarkably expressive face. It was amusing to watch.

Even now, when he asked if she was hungry, she seemed to show a hint of disdain around her eyes.

Encrid chuckled softly and sat down. His legs weren’t shaking, but he had swung his sword all day, literally without a moment’s rest, and had mentally experienced a death-like state.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t tired.

Still…

‘Krais was right.’

Wasn’t it like picking up a fallen coin?

To Encrid, this event felt like that. Only, what he thought was a coin turned out to be gold.

He had learned a new swordsmanship technique. But how much had he improved?

It’s hard to gauge. It depends on the standard you set. However, he had gained a bit of confidence instead of arrogance.

‘The soldier ranking system of Naurillia is meaningless.’

In the end, he needed Rem. Perhaps he should try to scratch Rem’s cheek with his axe.

It was a refreshing goal.

“Let’s rest and leave tomorrow.”

Encrid said. It seemed reasonable. The gray barrier was gone, and there was no danger. It was a perfect place to stay for the night, with no insects and a comfortably cool atmosphere.

So the group decided to spend the night there.

As Encrid lay down, he dreamt. In his dream, the evil spirit reappeared.

“Let’s have another match.”

It said, Encrid nodded. This time, he won easily.

Understanding begins with the movement, but what if he memorized everything? If the opponent only repeats the memorized moves, there is no reason to lose.

There was also a bit of understanding added to it.

The reason for moving the left foot to the side was to prepare for a thrust after cutting the top of the head.

Twisting the wrist in response to the dozens of movements an opponent might make while dodging or blocking allows for an unexpected strike.

Basic techniques connect to each other, forming a single flow. This was swordsmanship.

Reflecting on this anew, everything in the dream was torn apart, and suddenly, a ferryman appeared in the void.

He said nothing. He showed no intentions.

He just looked aggrieved.

‘Using my curse for something else?’

It seemed as if it was saying that.

Encrid lightly placed his right hand on his waist and saluted, expressing his regret.

When he opened his eyes, he was back in the cave.

It was just a meaningless dream.

“You slept peacefully.”

As he woke, Luagarne spoke.

“Didn’t you sleep?”

“I did.”

Luagarne, who had been staring at Encrid, asked.

“You’re really determined to become a Knight, aren’t you?”

Without saying anything, Encrid nodded.

“Indeed.”

Luagarne said calmly.

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be in this country, does it?”

The words that followed were meaningful, but there was no chance to ask further. With that, Luagarne turned away, as if not wanting to discuss it any further.

What she said wasn’t a question, but advice. Knowing this, Encrid didn’t press the matter.

‘This country, huh.’

As a child, he hadn’t understood the concept of a country.

As he grew older, he realized that being a Knight bound by an oath of loyalty wasn’t what he had dreamed of.

So, was there another path?

It wasn’t something he needed to worry about just yet.

‘When the time comes, I’ll decide then.’

He would follow his heart and choose the right path.

That’s how he had lived so far. Call it conviction or stubbornness; it was a way that worked for him.

“Let’s go.”

Encrid was just about to say that when—

“Oh!”

Krais’s surprised voice rang out.

“There’s a secret box under the chest!”

Krais looked up and met Encrid’s eyes.

Whatever Dolph’s intention was, it was clear he enjoyed playing tricks on people.

Emptying the chest and diverting their attention with a letter, then trapping them in a dungeon with a cursed sword, only to reward those with sharp eyes.

“Ancient gold coins!”

Something valuable had been found. The current currency was the Empire’s money.

The standard currency in Krona was imperial copper, silver, and gold coins.

This standard had been established for over a hundred years. Naturally, anything called Krona would refer to imperial currency.

From such ancient times, something from the borderline between history and legend had appeared.

While not exactly priceless, if it found the right owner, it could be worth ten times its weight in gold.

There were more than ten such coins.

Each coin was the size of a palm, so they weren’t small. The pouch was heavy.

“Divide it.”

Encrid said. Krais looked disappointed but soon nodded.

He even handed some to Luagarne, who had refused to take any.

“We’re taking this, right?”

Krais asked, as if it were obvious.

He was referring to the sword stuck in the ground.

Before the words even finished, Encrid stood in front of the sword again.

The madman wielding the sword had been freed and sent to another world, beyond the realm of reality.

So, what was left?

“It’s obviously valuable.”

Krais said.

Encrid gripped the sword with one hand and pulled it out. It felt like a superhuman strength, perhaps from frequently using the Heart of Great Strength, but he felt stronger than before.

The pulled-out sword was dirty, but the edge was still alive. It seemed it just needed sharpening.

He swung it a few times, and while the balance was decent, the handle and pommel needed a lot of work.

“It has the strength to be honored as an honorary Frog.”

Luagarne praised him in a manner typical of a Frog.

“You’re not going to sell that, are you?”

Krais asked.

“No, I won’t sell it.”

Since both swords were in disarray, Encrid and his group packed up and began their journey back.

There were still few monsters and magical creatures to be seen. Whether due to the aftermath of the large colony or not, even the usual bandits were nowhere to be found.

Finn, showing remarkable resilience, occasionally asked Encrid for martial arts sparring along the way. They couldn’t have a full fight, so they engaged in slow-paced tactical movements. Since learning swordsmanship, Encrid had become more skillful, and Finn never won a bout.

Then, Luagarne left.

“Well, I’m off.”

“See you again.”

It was a simple farewell. Krais waved, and Finn gave a slight nod. Esther didn’t pay much attention. Luagarne didn’t seem particularly regretful as she turned away.

Watching the Frog leave alone, Encrid seemed to forget any feelings of regret and turned away himself.

“She left so suddenly.”

“She was staying because of the Platoon leader, so it’s not surprising.”

Krais voiced his thoughts succinctly.

“Enchantment.”

“Don’t.”

It’s the nickname Encrid found most annoying—something about ‘Enchantment’.

“Enchantment.”

Krais repeated, raising his eyebrows. Encrid didn’t hold back.

“This is the Ail Caraz-Style wrist twist. It’s good to learn.”

With those words, he twisted Krais’s wrist, eliciting a scream.

Krais’s cry echoed in the summer sky.

Without further incident, the group returned to the Border Guard.

Thus, Encrid and his group made their way back to the city.

Meanwhile, the higher-ups who had dispatched a priest from the Sacred Cult of the Demon Realm received surprising news.

* * *

“Failed?”

The bishop, who managed the diocese and was the priest’s direct superior, asked. He was a strikingly handsome man with thick blonde eyebrows, wearing a white robe with gold embroidery.

He repeated the question with a look of disbelief.

“Did a Knight order come?”

That wasn’t the case.

“What? A Platoon leader? A panther?”

Learning who was responsible left him even more astonished.

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