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A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 338 · Oct 14, 2026

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301 Chapter 300 2026-10-14
302 Chapter 301 2026-10-14
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305 Chapter 304 2026-10-14
306 Chapter 305 2026-10-14
307 Chapter 306 2026-10-14
308 Chapter 307 2026-10-14
309 Chapter 308 2026-10-14
310 Chapter 309 2026-10-14
311 Chapter 310 2026-10-14
312 Chapter 311 2026-10-14
313 Chapter 312 2026-10-14
314 Chapter 313 2026-10-14
315 Chapter 314 2026-10-14
316 Chapter 315 2026-10-14
317 Chapter 316 2026-10-14
318 Chapter 317 2026-10-14
319 Chapter 318 2026-10-14
320 Chapter 319 2026-10-14
321 Chapter 320 2026-10-14
322 Chapter 321 2026-10-14
323 Chapter 322 2026-10-14
324 Chapter 323 2026-10-14
325 Chapter 324 2026-10-14
326 Chapter 325 2026-10-14
327 Chapter 326 2026-10-14
328 Chapter 327 2026-10-14
329 Chapter 328 2026-10-14
330 Chapter 329 2026-10-14
331 Chapter 330 2026-10-14
332 Chapter 331 2026-10-14
333 Chapter 332 2026-10-14
334 Chapter 333 2026-10-14
335 Chapter 334 2026-10-14
336 Chapter 335 2026-10-14
337 Chapter 336 2026-10-14
338 Chapter 337 2026-10-14
339 Chapter 338 2026-10-14
340 Chapter 339 2026-10-14
341 Chapter 340 2026-10-14
342 Chapter 341 2026-10-14
343 Chapter 342 2026-10-14
344 Chapter 343 2026-10-14
345 Chapter 344 2026-10-14
346 Chapter 345 2026-10-14
347 Chapter 346 2026-10-14
348 Chapter 347 2026-10-14
349 Chapter 348 2026-10-14
350 Chapter 349 2026-10-14

What is the quickness of thought?

It was the same as thought acceleration.

One absorbs all available information, discards the unnecessary, and selects the most efficient and rational course of action.

In that process, determining what is necessary requires mental acuity.

With heightened speed of thought, the ability to predict the shape of battle evolved.

Enkrid found this aspect even more enjoyable than learning other sword techniques.

A blade that bent and countered like a snake was still a blade—it had to cut.

The Flowing Blade was a technique of redirection.

Its essence lay in countering, and without that, it lost its meaning.

Learning it had been exhilarating.

What about Lightning Thrust?

How could accelerating will in a single moment not be thrilling?

The process of learning was always a source of joy.

And the Crushing Blade was the same.

It had begun as a way to withstand a knight’s sword.

It had been born from Ragna’s question—

How do you cut lightning?

The answer had come through experimentation.

You do not cut lightning.

You see it and move before it strikes.

In other words, you must extend your sword before the enemy swings theirs.

Then, the blade you wield becomes a lightning rod.

One cannot cut lightning, but one can redirect it.

And he had proven that.

A knight’s sword was no different from an act of nature—like lightning itself.

The Serpent’s Blade, Lightning Thrust, Crushing Blade—

Each was learned through different means, yet the joy of mastering them was the same.

All of them had been absorbed into his body with a singular purpose.

Yet, in comparison, the Capturing Blade—the refined, precise technique of True Swordsmanship—was something different.

It can incorporate other techniques.

Calculation and thought were pushed to their limits, his concentration boiling over like never before.

If the first three techniques were akin to striking points, then the Capturing Blade was a line, unbroken and seamless.

There was a hidden will within the ghoul horde charging at him.

With extreme focus in True Swordsmanship, it was as if he could see moments ahead in time.

If he wanted to counter a move, he could use Serpent’s Blade.

If he wanted to force them into his pace, he could use Crushing Blade.

And if he wanted to disrupt their attacks from the start, he could strike first with Lightning Thrust.

Ah.

A realization dawned upon him.

The Capturing Blade was a technique reliant on precise calculations.

Now, it needed an inner core to strengthen it.

Even after developing it, he sensed something was missing.

And now, he knew exactly what it was.

”Recognizing your flaws is the key to growth.”

He recalled the words of a mercenary.

And so, Enkrid did just that.

He recognized.

He acknowledged.

What was missing?

The form was complete.

Now, it needed substance.

The Serpent’s Blade had the essence of redirection.

Lightning Thrust had absolute focus, beginning from the feet and coursing through the entire body.

Crushing Blade had pressure—the force of sheer intimidation filling the gaps.

Thus, Capturing Blade needed something similar.

That something did not have to be an entirely new sword technique.

It did not need to be anything newly invented.

It simply needed a core.

That’s it.

Realization brought joy.

And joy brought elation.

What could be more thrilling than this?

Beneath a black, starless sky, he swung his sword, searching for starlight.

Even after countless days, no light had shone through.

Yet Enkrid did not tire.

He simply swung his blade.

Even when there was no path ahead, when he walked in the darkness, he never stopped.

Step after step, he kept moving.

Forgetting exhaustion, he kept going.

And so, he swung his sword.

How had he reacted when faced with the curse of Today?

He had never needed to resist with words against those who despaired.

Because he had never feared living through Today once more.

So, once again, he swung his blade.

How could this not excite him?

Now, he saw starlight.

A path had opened.

And though he no longer repeated Today, a moment of revelation had arrived.

It was overwhelming joy.

”Oh, someone’s having fun,” Rem muttered.

”At least he’s not drooling,” Audin quipped. ”That’s a relief.”

”The wandering Teresa will offer her aid,” Teresa chimed in.

”What aid? There’s nothing for you to do,” Dunbakel scoffed.

From behind, they all threw in their comments.

Only Shinar remained silent, watching intently.

That man’s sword was changing in real time.

A fae’s keen senses absorbed every shift.

The moment Shinar detected the changes, he heightened his perception even further.

Of course, to an outsider, it simply looked like he was watching.

But in reality, Shinar was actively absorbing the technique—learning through the fae’s unique sense of intuition.

Meanwhile, Enkrid filtered out all unnecessary noise.

Their voices were irrelevant.

They were not part of his focus.

What mattered was the sound of ghouls stepping on the forest floor.

That was what was important now.

He made his selection.

Pak!

Thud, thump!

The sound of feet striking the earth.

Snap, crunch, crack!

The snapping of branches underfoot.

Kuuuuaaagh!

The signature ghoul screech, as if vomiting out something foul.

Scholars had studied this sound.

They theorized that ghouls screeched due to the corrosive acid burning their stomachs.

And that acid could only be soothed by consuming human flesh.

That was why ghouls engaged in cannibalism.

Some monsters hunted humans for sport.

But ghouls? They were born that way.

This information was irrelevant.

He discarded it.

A mind accelerating its thoughts needed to filter what was important.

Between the ghoul horde, a sinister presence emerged.

Unlike the others, it made no sound.

While the other ghouls howled, this one moved in silence.

It maneuvered stealthily, perching itself on a thick branch above Enkrid.

Snap.

The branch barely dipped under its weight.

But anyone focused on the charging horde would never think to look up.

Enkrid, however, had already taken action.

In his right hand, his silver longsword.

In his left, Sparks.

Now, he filled the Capturing Blade with its missing core.

Whip, tap, swish, pierce, swoosh, crack, slide, thrust.

A rhythm.

His blade danced to an exact tempo.

The silver sword sliced, cleaved, and divided.

The Sparks jabbed and withdrew.

Two blades moved as one, singing a single rhythm.

The Capturing Blade now used rhythm as its core, trapping enemies within its flow.

Inside that rhythm, the ghouls were nothing more than moths rushing into a flame.

”Oh.”

Rem let out a quiet exclamation.

Dunbakel tilted his head slightly.

Something primal in his instincts was warning him.

Audin and Rem did not look up.

But Dunbakel did.

And Teresa, catching his reaction, slowly raised her gaze as well.

Something was there.

Teresa felt it—a creeping, unsettling presence.

Enkrid, however, remained focused on wielding his two swords.

The rhythmic carnage continued, a sequence of flawless, entrancing movement.

”Above—”

Teresa barely managed to shout.

Then, something dropped from the trees.

It was half the size of a normal ghoul.

Its body was still gray.

But its right arm was abnormally long, and its claws were twice as long and sharp as any other ghoul’s.

Like four elongated daggers, wicked and needle-like.

The moment it entered their sight, it vanished.

Only a flickering afterimage remained.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

It streaked downward, driving its clawed hand like a spike.

From above, it struck.

But Enkrid, whose sword had been moving in perfect rhythm—

—just once—

—broke the rhythm.

Half a beat faster.

His silver longsword swept upward in a single, perfectly vertical arc.

Centered precisely at the axis of his head.

Fwuck!

The unique ghoul that had been diving toward Enkrid was split diagonally.

A silver line carved through its body from head to groin.

At the same moment, Enkrid sidestepped, his footwork seamlessly fitting into the rhythm of battle.

Even the thump of his landing matched the tempo perfectly.

”He already knew.”

Teresa remained silent.

He had noticed before she had.

Now that she thought about it, both Rem and Audin had realized it, and they had known that their commander would as well.

So, she held her tongue.

Enkrid wasn’t lost in his own world, drooling over the thrill of battle.

He was calculating—again and again—yet he was also learning that he did not have to be bound by calculations.

What if the calculations fail?

Then he could entrust himself to instinct.

And he had weapons suited for that.

By layering intent atop his sense of evasion, he could respond fluidly.

More than twenty ghouls rushed forward, and an assassin-like ghoul lurked above, poised for a lethal strike.

For an ordinary soldier, it would have meant certain death.

Ghouls executing a pincer attack?

A normal person would have been overwhelmed.

But neither Enkrid nor his companions were normal in any sense.

Watching Enkrid fight,

”I can’t hold back!”

Dunbakel snapped.

Her beastkin senses had caught the scent of hidden ghouls within the forest.

She charged forward, dashing past Enkrid’s left side.

”Aren’t you going to stop her?”

Teresa asked, watching the scene unfold.

Her tone was calm, but there was an odd urgency beneath it.

Enkrid answered as he split the last ghoul’s head in two, deliberately swinging his sword two beats slower.

Thud!

A severed skull flew skyward.

”Stop what?”

Enkrid’s voice came, casual as ever.

”Dunbakel’s charging in.”

”Did you plan to just stand there and watch?”

It was a misunderstanding.

Teresa had thought he wanted to kill all of them himself, that he was claiming all the prey.

That wasn’t the case.

Enkrid had simply been enjoying himself.

Now, he was filled with satisfaction.

And if Dunbakel wanted to let loose?

It was neither expected nor relevant.

”More are coming.”

Shinar spoke.

Even in the poison-laden forest, the fae’s senses were sharp.

He detected the approaching enemies before Enkrid did.

In terms of pure tracking ability, he was leagues ahead of Rem and the others.

”Then—”

Teresa stepped forward as well.

Watching had made her blood boil.

Was it the blood of a half-giant?

Or was it simply proof of her identity as Teresa?

Now wasn’t the time to ponder.

So, she ignored it.

A massive tree obstructed her view.

Without hesitation, she swung her sword.

Whoom!

Crack!

The blade buried itself deep in the tree’s trunk.

Teresa realized the wood was tougher than she had expected.

It wasn’t quite ironwood, but it was densely packed.

So, she applied more strength.

”Hmph.”

With a grunt, she flexed her arms.

Her muscles swelled, stretching tight against her skin.

The tree groaned as it split further.

Thud!

As the tree began to fall, Teresa shifted her stance and struck it with her shield.

Boom!

A thunderous crash echoed through the forest.

The tree, which was three times her size, toppled in the direction of the charging ghouls.

”The Lord watches over you.”

Teresa muttered a prayer as she watched the tree fall.

”May you find mercy beneath His gaze.”

Audin finished the prayer in her stead.

He liked the way she phrased it.

Teresa turned to Enkrid, not bothering to hide her excitement.

A grin stretched across her face, revealing elongated fangs—evidence of her half-giant bloodline asserting itself.

Then, she spun like a windmill.

Her sword and shield battered the oncoming ghouls, smashing, cutting, and crushing them.

”Hahaha!”

Teresa’s laughter rang through the forest.

”Weren’t we supposed to be sneaking in?”

Rem remarked.

”If the Grey Ghoul hears that laugh and comes charging, that’d be convenient.

If it runs, that’s even better,” Enkrid replied.

He had a point.

If their target came out, it would save them time tracking it down.

If it fled, then they wouldn’t have to fight in an enemy-fortified terrain.

Either way, it worked in their favor.

”Huh. You’ve got a point.”

Rem nodded.

Avoiding thinking was different from being stupid.

Rem could understand Enkrid’s logic.

”Unfortunately, things won’t go your way, Commander,” Audin chuckled.

He wasn’t wrong.

The area Dunbakel had charged into was crawling with assassin-type ghouls like the one Enkrid had just slain.

And the ones Teresa was engaging were half again as large as normal ghouls.

Their gray flesh was denser than usual.

Normally, it took two or three spearmen to handle just one.

The ghouls in this forest were more troublesome than their standard counterparts.

If they had used the same pincer tactics against a trained military unit, the casualties would have been severe.

But Enkrid and his team weren’t knights, and yet their combat ability was comparable.

”At least this isn’t boring.”

Enkrid smirked.

”That’s true,” Rem agreed, stepping forward.

She pulled out a sling and began whirling it overhead.

Whiiiiing!

A sharp whistle filled the air.

Several figures emerged from the shadows.

A ghoul that could be called a commander.

A ghoul with distinct yellow eyes.

And various others who had been waiting for an opportunity to strike.

It was all meaningless.

Thunk!

The scattered stones became deadly projectiles.

Three slings broke in the process.

Each rock mercilessly shattered a ghoul’s skull.

Enkrid did not pause.

But something felt off.

A trap?

It was just a hunch.

But it seemed likely.

Shinar approached him.

”Something doesn’t feel right, fiancé.”

Fiancé?

Why did he never forget to use that title?

Enkrid dismissed the thought.

”This way.”

The fae’s senses and his own instincts pointed in the same direction.

That was where the so-called king of these ghouls should be.

Enkrid adjusted his course.

His opponent’s intentions were becoming clear.

”It’s leading us.”

It wasn’t overt, but the intent was evident.

Looking closely, he could see it.

The weaker ghouls were all gathered in a particular area.

They were still stronger than an average soldier, but compared to the assassin-type and the massive ones Teresa was fighting, they were weaker.

It was as if the horde was herding them toward a specific path.

Deliberately leaving a gap.

Subtly guiding them.

”Pathetic.”

Rem muttered behind him.

She had noticed as well.

”It seems our ghoul brother is eager to meet his god.”

Audin delivered the death sentence calmly.

Without another word, Enkrid continued forward.

At last, they arrived.

It was an open clearing.

The enemy’s intent was obvious.

And the proof of that was the hundred yellow eyes staring at them from the darkness.

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