A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

One of the reasons Enkrid came to the capital was for this very thing.

“Isn’t this a chance to face the Order of Knights?”

The threats posed by monsters and beastmen hadn’t just advanced culinary and construction techniques.

They had also drawn powerful individuals into the walls of the fortress.

For survival and defense, it had been a necessity.

Among those who had gathered, the knights were the elite, making the capital’s Order of Knights a symbol of power.

When dividing things into categories like city-level, national-level, or continental-level, where did it all begin?

Where did the term Squire-level come from?

It all started with the Order of Knights.

He was one of them.

The Marquis had investigated Enkrid. He had a rough understanding of the man’s tastes.

What was more valuable to a man like Enkrid than Crona, women, status, or power?

If you dig into his past, know the path he’s taken, and understand his purpose, you can understand the man.

That’s what the Marquis did.

”When you say it’s a gift, what does that mean?”

Aisia entered the mansion and spoke, and Enkrid could faintly see the Marquis smiling behind her.

Standing by the training ground, Aisia was lightly armed, wearing a sword.

A slippery one.

Andrew had once described her as someone who had swallowed dozens of snakes and gained the insides of a hydra.

That description seemed spot on.

A person whose true intentions were hidden.

Was she on the queen’s side? Crang’s side? Count Molsen’s side? The side of that Viscount Mernes, or perhaps, would she be a new force?

No one knew.

She was merely the Marquis of Octo, residing in the capital.

Given her background, she couldn’t be disregarded. Even the queen couldn’t treat such a noble family lightly.

Currently, there was no Duke in the kingdom, and no one had a title higher than a Duke. So, the Marquis Baisar shared the power with the nation’s rulers.

Would such a Marquis side with Crang?

The emergence of a Duke would affect even her own power.

Thus, the Marquis Baisar was said to be wary of Crang.

That was something Marcus had mentioned directly.

And yet, despite appearing to be firmly on Crang’s side, the Marquis had personally come to speak and even asked for help with some matters.

What was he thinking? What was he planning?

He was an unpredictable person.

But for now, setting all that aside…

“This isn’t something you need to worry about.”

Enkrid felt a sense of welcome. He had been looking forward to meeting her and, perhaps, testing his strength against her.

“Feel free to speak.”

Aisia nodded and then spoke. She seemed the same as before—her gentle face framed by short hair.

She shook her orange hair with her hand and stared directly at Enkrid.

It was astonishing and absurd.

To her, this was something that made no sense.

The author, standing right in front of her, was beyond her expectations.

She had conducted a skill test at the Border Guard by Marcus’ request.

She still vividly remembered how Enkrid had been left dazed and overwhelmed by his imposing presence back then.

Lua Gharne said something about him being different.

Aisia trusted her own instincts more than what others said.

It was only natural for someone who aspired to be a knight to trust their own experiences.

She had believed that Enkrid would be lucky if he reached Squire level.

No, she had judged him even lower than that. She thought there was no way he would improve further.

But now, that same Enkrid stood before her, boldly locking eyes.

How did he do it?

What had he done to achieve such feats?

A sense of rivalry stirred inside her. She wanted to measure his strength.

She had come here for work, but once she saw him, she understood immediately.

She hadn’t entered the Order and reached Squire for nothing.

To wield a sword—or any weapon—and to be skilled in martial arts, combat, and fighting, becoming a Squire wasn’t easy.

Talent alone wasn’t enough. Desire for progress had to be added to the mix.

Looking into Enkrid’s eyes, she abandoned what she was doing and faced him directly.

“Do it again.”

Enkrid told her to speak freely, and she did. Her straightforward attitude was something she liked.

“What?”

She asked in return.

“Imposing presence.”

“You’re just blowing smoke,” she replied.

“Do it.”

This time, Enkrid didn’t sense any pressure from behind. Back then, when he had exerted his imposing presence, it was when his subordinates had gathered to stare him down.

Andrew Gardner wasn’t intimidating at all. What bothered her were the subordinates she had seen before, but they were nowhere to be found now.

Aisia focused and released her imposing presence. She turned her foot, adjusting her posture, and placed her hand on her sword grip. Imposing presence was a technique based on willpower, used to break the opponent’s resolve.

Bow before me, or die.

Enkrid felt a murderous intent in the imposing presence.

An imaginary blade came toward him. Enkrid knew it wasn’t real. The Enkrid of the past, who would have closed his eyes when a sword appeared in front of him, no longer existed. The Enkrid who would have crumbled under imposing presence was also gone.

The will to reject rose and pushed the pressure away.

Enkrid stepped forward toward Aisia.

Her pupils widened. She had heard rumors, but only now, seeing him in person, did she understand.

This man was the real deal.

Lua Gharne’s words had been right. Her ability to judge based on experience had been off.

Before, she had fought through sheer force, but now, she met him with willpower.

“Shall we spar?”

Enkrid asked.

“Let’s!” Aisia shouted joyfully.

Cling!

The thin, straight rapier at her waist was drawn.

Aisia, with her sword raised vertically in front of her face, spoke.

“You don’t think my specialty is just imposing presence, do you?”

“If losing isn’t your hobby, you’d better do your best.”

Enkrid responded, a clever provocation.

Aisia smiled broadly. I’ll have to fix that attitude of his, she seemed to think.

Enkrid was quite pleased by the change in her expression.

While she drew her sword and raised it, Enkrid adjusted his sword belt and tightened his grip.

He also shifted his left foot and relaxed his arm naturally. It was the preparation right before a fight.

Sparring as soon as they arrived.

Matters of business or anything else didn’t matter now.

Aisia had done it right from the start.

There was no need for hesitation.

They were both Squires. They had the strength to match.

Just the way they overcame imposing presence told him everything.

“I don’t know how many wills you can use, but look forward to it. It’s going to be fun.”

Aisia said, lowering the sword she had pointed forward.

Enkrid instinctively gauged the distance.

The distance was five steps. As the sword pointed at him, he felt like the blade was right in front of his face.

Enkrid shifted his foot sideways. He changed positions, stepping to face away from the sun. Aisia didn’t move but kept her left foot grounded and turned, shifting only the tip of her sword.

The tip of her sword still blocked his line of sight.

Enkrid looked at Aisia first. Then his focus shifted to her shoulder.

A point of concentration instinctively activated.

She was truly a Squire of the Order.

He didn’t think he could overpower her just because he had experienced a knight’s strike.

With the heart of a beast, he would face her boldly.

Through a single point of focus, he fixed his eyes on her.

He heightened his sensory skills in preparation.

He was ready to strike at any moment.

As he looked at her shoulder, his field of vision gradually narrowed.

Where his gaze had once encompassed her whole body, it now focused on her shoulder and hand, and then solely on the rapier and the hand that held it.

Soon, all that remained in his view was the rapier’s blade. A moment later, his vision became consumed by the tip of the sword.

At last, it was as if he could only see a single point. But that point was so large, it completely blocked his view.

He understood with his mind. The opponent only held a sword and pointed it at him.

Yet...

I can’t judge the distance.

It was five steps, but the distance had vanished.

All he could see was the point of her sword.

Only the point remained.

There was no pressure. No sense of being overwhelmed. Naturally, the will to reject didn’t activate.

All he saw was the point of the sword.

Enkrid couldn’t even attempt to find an opening. How could he act when he could only see that point?

As his focus intensified, the point she presented grew larger.

What is happening?

From Andrew’s perspective, it was nothing short of baffling.

He was told to try something, only to see Enkrid step forward, immediately suggesting a sparring match.

Then, Enkrid drew his sword and aimed it, but paused.

Enkrid moved his feet a few times as if to find his footing, trying to gauge the distance, but both of them had stopped for now.

Are they not fighting?

Andrew had been eagerly waiting, expecting to watch a high-level sparring session, but time had already passed.

Should I try talking to them?

“Leave it.”

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Rem had quietly approached and placed his arm on Andrew’s shoulder.

Andrew’s body froze, caught by Rem’s grip on his shoulder and neck.

“If you move wrong now, that blade will fly at you.”

Rem spoke calmly while pulling him back. Andrew obediently followed his guidance.

It wasn’t just Rem.

Ragna, Jaxon, and Dunbakel had also joined.

All three of their gazes were fixed on the center of the training ground.

Enkrid could feel sweat beginning to drip from his brow.

Aisia, too, wasn’t as calm as she appeared.

Her opponent’s presence was fierce and wild. Any slight opening could lead to an explosion of force, like a volcano waiting to erupt.

If that happened, it would be hard to maintain the current advantage.

Lionesis had broken down swordsmanship into five styles—each with its strengths and weaknesses—and established a rock-paper-scissors relationship between them.

A straight sword was weak against a deceptive sword.

A straight sword is meant to bind the enemy within your intent by striking straight and true, but it is vulnerable to a deceptive sword, which tricks and misleads.

A deceptive sword is weak against a heavy sword.

A deceptive sword works by misleading the opponent, and is weak against the brute strength of a heavy sword. The heavy sword’s power lies in its steadfastness, making it ideal for overpowering trickery.

A heavy sword is vulnerable to a flowing sword.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Due to its heaviness, a heavy sword tends to lose its balance, missing the mark.

A flowing sword, however, struggles against a quick sword.

A quick sword is hard to counter because it strikes fast before the opponent can react, rendering techniques like a flowing sword useless.

Lastly, a quick sword is weak against a straight sword.

If trapped within the opponent’s calculations, the speed of the quick sword is nullified, and it is caught by a straight sword.

A straight sword is defeated by a deceptive sword.

A deceptive sword is defeated by a heavy sword.

A heavy sword is defeated by a flowing sword.

A flowing sword is defeated by a quick sword.

And a quick sword, in turn, is defeated by a straight sword.

Of course, not every quick sword can beat a straight sword, nor can every straight sword fall to a deceptive sword.

Everything depends on the level of training, which is why the outcome of a battle is never simple.

One can die even when fighting an opponent much weaker than themselves.

That’s an old saying.

The sword has no eyes. Anyone struck by a blind sword can die. Death is impartial.

Trying to escape that impartiality, humans have always tried to surpass their limits.

That’s will. Willpower. The embodiment of willpower is a knight.

Aisia’s sword was deceptive.

It was a technique that used the opponent’s focus against them to land a counterstrike.

Rem, Jaxon, and Ragna immediately thought of ways to counter it when they saw Aisia’s technique.

They were geniuses, after all. It made sense.

But, of course, if they fought directly, Aisia would throw in some tricks, so the outcome of the fight could only be determined by actually sparring.

Dunbakel couldn’t fully grasp Aisia’s technique all at once, but she knew what she could do.

Strike before it’s drawn.

Enkrid couldn’t immediately figure out Aisia’s technique. But he had built his own path, step by step, and the countless hours of practice had become his swordsmanship.

What does it matter if you can see a point or a line?

If you can’t break through, then break here.

Once he decided that time was not on his side, Enkrid moved his hand.

Shing!

The sound of the sword being drawn was strange—it was too fast and too straight. The drawing was done with minimal friction.

It was the result of endless training.

It was the will of the moment. What he drew was a spark.

The spark turned into a white streak of light, slashing through the point.

Clang!

The sound of metal meeting metal rang out. As soon as Aisia’s blade made contact with something, she exploded with force, her entire body’s muscles contracting.

Whoosh!

Aisia’s sword flew away, but it was far faster than before, and it struck at Enkrid’s neck.

With a splash of blood, it seemed like it would erupt, but it didn’t.

Enkrid barely avoided it, tilting his head back.

Aisia stopped right there. If she went any further, it would have been a kill-or-be-killed fight.

For a first spar, this was intense.

One could barely call it a sparring match.

Even within the knight order, sparring with real swords like this would usually lead to anger.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

But…

“Another round?”

Enkrid’s eyes sparkled. A faint smile appeared on his face. He looked thrilled.

Hadn’t he almost died just now? But he was smiling like that?

No matter how bold one was, after nearly dying, there should be at least a bit of negative emotion.

But for Enkrid, there was no resentment, complaints, or any negative feelings at all.

“Huh?”

Aisia had never experienced anything like this before. This was a new type of person to her.

“If you’re tired, you can take a break.”

Enkrid’s words were met with a response from behind him.

“Here we go again.”

“Outbreak.”

“Hm.”

It was Rem, Ragna, and Jaxon, in that order.

Dunbakel remained silent. She couldn’t fathom stopping Aisia’s blade from earlier.

It wasn’t the speed that scared her.

If it were just speed, Enkrid’s sword would have been sharper.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of the speed. It was the timing that was terrifying.

It breaks my rhythm.

She knew because she had been absorbed in watching.

Aisia’s blade entered between the breaths, where it was impossible to dodge.

Had it been her, her neck would have been severed.

Of course, if she had wielded the sword in such a manner, she wouldn’t have fought like Enkrid.

She would have fled.

She would have created some distance and started again.

Could I win then?

It would be difficult. Dunbakel, feeling uncomfortable, snorted through her nose.

“You’re an odd one.”

Aisia finally spoke to Enkrid.

“You’re smiling too.”

Enkrid replied.

And that was the truth.

Aisia also felt a rare sense of joy and excitement.

It had been years since she had felt this entertained.

“No breakfast? You didn’t eat anything before coming?”

Aisia spoke.

“Andrew?”

Enkrid called out for the master of the mansion. Andrew nodded.

One meal was always taken on time, so the meal preparations were already in order.