A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Whoosh!

The net descended over Ragna’s head. He lightly swung his sword vertically. It wasn’t too fast or too slow, but suddenly the blade narrowed, appearing to transform into a line, and that line cut through the net.

“What!”

The comrade who had thrown the net shouted. Yon realized something was wrong, but there was no time to speak.

He extended his left hand forward, gripping the glaive blade near its edge, and struck briefly before stabbing and swinging it.

Thud, thud!

The sword that had cut through the net now approached from above and had to be dealt with.

Even though Yon had laid down the glaive blade to strike, the sword stubbornly followed, trying to slice through the spear shaft. Yon yanked the glaive back, blocking it again with force as he swung the sword upward. Even after these three quick movements, both of his arms were numb.

‘My arms are numb?’

Yon was also a skilled warrior. He knew how to wield Will.

Will wasn’t something that could naturally be manifested, but through skill, he could use it.

What a knight could do, he could do too. He was capable.

But with just one clash, he felt the gap. He knew he couldn’t win. It felt hopeless. It was like being trapped in a coffin with all limbs bound, being squeezed.

‘Monster bastard?’

When they first fought, it was like a joke. After sheathing his sword and drawing it again, he had become a different person.

The enemy had quickly leapt backward, swinging the sword horizontally. It was fast but heavy. It was too late to dodge. A mercenary who had thrown a spear held up a round shield.

Even so, he deserved some praise. He made an effort to block.

Clang! Wham!

Ragna’s sword cleaved through both the shield and the man.

The one who had jumped backward, swinging his sword, suddenly moved in a circular arc. Yon’s gaze followed him late. He saw the comrade who had thrown the net, his neck flying into the air, blood spraying.

The enemy didn’t stop. Dodging a spear aimed at his back, he casually swung his sword again as if there was no fatigue in his muscles.

“Grrk!”

One of the spear users, who had been showing off some skill, was hit in the throat while trying to dodge. Blood gushed from the gaping wound.

Yon finally shoved his numbed arms aside and threw them to the side.

He saw the sword falling toward his head.

He saw the enemy’s face as well. There was no impatience, no expression of effort. It was just a casual look as if he was doing something out of boredom.

“Ugh!”

Yon’s Will activated. Through the glaive’s blade, his will was transmitted. It was the technique called ‘Deflect.’

It was a skill powered by Will that caused the enemy’s weapon to be deflected with such force that they would lose grip of it for a moment.

Against that, Ragna displayed the Severance Will.

The will of “Venda” slashed through the will of “Deflect.”

Ragna’s body brushed past Yon, and Yon froze.

Soon, a slanted line appeared on Yon’s head, and blood began to ooze from the space between the lines.

Crack.

The skull was split along the line, from above his right eyebrow to below his left cheekbone. His mouth remained intact.

Yon’s dying mouth opened.

“Ugh…”

The sound came from his front teeth meeting together. There was no meaning in the words. Even if there had been meaning, the man before him wouldn’t have listened.

Ragna, who had sliced through six opponents and killed them in an instant, turned his body. Though it didn’t look rushed, his steps were quick.

Inside the castle gate, Andrew and the five trainees were visible, having just killed their enemies and gasping for breath.

One of the enemy soldiers with a flail had two swords embedded in his belly, and his ankles were twisted in the wrong direction as he collapsed.

Next to him, another soldier had a sword lodged in his heart while still holding onto his sword.

Ragna saw them and kept moving forward.

Far in the distance, Dunbakel was still fighting, but this beastfolk wouldn’t die easily.

After all, protecting one’s own life was the greatest skill, wasn’t it?

Of course, Ragna didn’t move based on calculations or thoughts.

He had simply found his motivation.

He was simply heading to where he needed to be.

He continued into the castle gate, then ascended to the castle wall.

Soon, from Ragna’s battlefield, the fighting began to fade, like ink spreading across a canvas.

The enemy soldier’s hand stopped as they saw the change. The allies, in their position, didn’t advance but maintained their defense.

A strange standoff had occurred, and atop the castle wall, Ragna stood.

“Is the royal palace really in danger?”

Squire Rophod, having calmed his excitement, saw Ragna’s fight and was struck dumb once more. He had just closed his mouth.

“Ah, well…”

Rophod’s thoughts had changed a bit during that time. It was natural. He had been someone easily swayed by others’ opinions his whole life. His talents were irrelevant to his personality.

And so, the words came out.

“It might not be, or it could be wrong…”

To Ragna, those words sounded like “It could be right,” “That might be so.”

“I’m going first.”

That was enough.

“Where are you going?”

For a moment, Rophod realized that the man before him had absolutely no sense of direction.

Not just poor, but completely hopeless at finding his way—if left alone in the city, he wouldn’t even know where to go.

“The royal palace.”

“You’re going alone...?”

“I know a shortcut.”

Ragna understood Rophod’s words. Was Enkrid in danger? Maybe not. Perhaps there was no danger at all. It could be the opposite.

So, he would go and see.

The enemy, which had been a threat just beyond the castle gate, had now turned into a ghoul with missing limbs.

Thus, he could leave. Dunbakel and Andrew could handle things alone.

That was why he was going by himself. If some unexpected danger came, they would handle it.

“…Huh?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Rophod didn’t know what was right. But he knew he couldn’t stop the man in front of him from leaving.

It was a clear and firm declaration of will.

“I’m going.”

Ragna spoke and turned his body.

Had Andrew been here, he would have slapped his forehead and shaken his head.

Wasn’t this the guy who had the absolute worst sense of direction?

But Andrew, catching his breath below the castle wall, was still reflecting on the shocking battle he had just witnessed.

It had been a stunning fight.

No one was in a position to stop Ragna now.

Ragna turned around and directed his gaze toward the royal palace.

The city was large, as people gathered and lived in it, so it was no surprise.

The royal palace was only faintly visible from afar.

Even if he rode his horse diligently, it would take a long time to reach it.

It wasn’t a path that would take half a day, but it certainly wasn’t near either.

The road wasn’t nice, and it wasn’t a welcoming straight path.

The outer road leading to the royal palace had been built along the city’s walls, so it wasn’t a simple straight line.

If you didn’t know the way, it would be hard to navigate.

For someone like Ragna, the path was almost like a maze.

Even so, the royal palace was visible. And so, Ragna really did know a shortcut.

Even though it was just a faint outline, there was no way he couldn’t run straight toward it.

He leapt onto the rooftops. He ran above the city. His eyes were on the royal palace as he ran.

While running, he saw Jaxon moving in a similar direction.

He also saw a barbarian, drenched in fatigue, coming back from wherever he’d been.

And from far away, he saw a leopard running on the rooftops in a similar fashion.

He only glanced at them. Ragna ignored everything as he kept running.

He was used to losing his way, so he didn’t hesitate to run and walk.

He used all his skill in running fast.

Crash! Thud! Wham!

The ceiling he used as the floor shattered. He didn’t care about the circumstances and just kept running.

“Ugh!”

“Was that lightning?”

“Ah! What’s going on?”

Some of the citizens below shouted in surprise as pieces of the eaves and roof fell down.

Ragna kept running. The shortcut he took was right.

He passed through the city, ignoring a few soldiers who were slumped by the royal palace entrance.

“Hey!”

Someone shouted as they saw Ragna, but he ignored it. He just kept running and leaped into the royal palace.

Ragna wasn’t a hunter, and he didn’t have the skills to track people.

He couldn’t follow a scent or trace.

But the instinct of someone who wielded a sword was clearer and sharper than anyone else’s.

He felt the presence of momentum, bloodlust, and overwhelming power.

Ragna moved according to his instincts.

As soon as he arrived, it was only natural that he would find the place he aimed for. The place where trouble had broken out in the royal palace, where the noise was coming from, the most intense area—it was all too obvious.

Ragna ran toward it. The sunlight, which was now falling, was behind him. With the glow of the sunset on his back, he leapt upwards. Through the broken window and half-destroyed frame, he could see Enkrid in front of him. He also saw the back of the person blocking him.

Ragna kicked off the roof and trees and threw his body forward.

Whoever had broken the window, it had already been carefully cleaned, and the shards were removed. Ragna threw his body through the broken window.

Thunk.

The sword got caught on the window frame. The sword was long and thick. Ignoring it, he pulled.

Bang!

The window frame shattered. The wooden frame broke apart, and pieces scattered. Ragna immediately drew his sword and advanced.

He gathered his strength from above and brought the sword down vertically.

It was a brutal strike. An unexpected blow.

Despite that, the enemy forced his way through the gap and thrust his sword.

It was a sword that interrupted the flow.

Ragna pulled his sword back as he was striking downward.

He stayed true to his heavy, fast sword.

He added speed.

If the man in front thrust his sword, Ragna would be pierced in the belly, but the enemy’s body would be split vertically.

Whoosh.

The downward strike cut through the air and stopped.

The enemy had retrieved his sword and retreated.

“…Who?”

The man, who had retreated and now held his sword diagonally with both hands, spoke.

Ragna didn’t answer. There was no need to.

First, the captain had almost died. It was more important to either kill him or beat him to the brink of death.

Everyone has their own hell, but Ragna’s hell was a life of wandering and losing his way.

What he felt in his heart, the boredom that had built up inside, no one could touch.

There was someone who had become the landmark in that wandering.

And there was someone who tried to make that person die.

Words were unnecessary.

Ragna took a step and began to swing his sword.

The specialty of a greatsword was to strike heavily. To add power, you had to take the proper preliminary movement.

On the other hand, a fast sword didn’t rely on the preliminary movement but instead extended the sword faster than the opponent’s reaction.

It wasn’t without reason that thrusting was a symbol of quick swordsmanship.

Yet, Ragna mixed the two characteristics.

How was that possible?

He minimized the preliminary movement and let the rest follow on its own.

“Just let it happen.”

Ragna had said this when teaching Enkrid.

Other than that, there was nothing else to say. When you set your mind to something, it happens. It was talent. The phrase “just let it happen” came out naturally.

The sword brushed the wall. Clink! Clink! Rocks were cut, and stone fragments flew. Before the stone fragments could fall to the ground, the sword that had brushed the wall reached the enemy’s face.

The enemy judged that it was impossible to block.

Trying to break through here?

No chance.

Though he had remained a squire all his life, the man was a top talent among the knights.

His talent was genuine. That’s why he had made it this far.

If he could do one thing, he could do three, and if he could do three, he could do ten.

And yet, among the knights, he was second among the squires.

The squire struck his sword several times. He swung his sword repeatedly to interrupt the opponent’s attack. As the flow was broken, the momentum quickly died.

Eventually, he knocked away the incoming sword and pushed it back.

Thud!

The sound of metal echoed between the two.

‘Greatsword.’

A heavy sword must carry its momentum to keep hitting. He couldn’t do that, so he was being pushed back. That meant he was at a disadvantage.

It was surprising at first when he rushed forward, but nothing had changed.

‘My talent is superior.’

The thought changed quickly.

It was after exchanging ten strikes with the sword.

“…What are you doing?”

The man’s mouth opened.

Ragna still didn’t answer. Instead, he observed the enemy’s sword.

It was a pretty decent technique.

The eyes of a genius, armed with unprecedented motivation, began to scrutinize the swordsmanship.

“Nonsense.”

The squire denied it. This was something even a knight wouldn’t be able to do.

“You can’t ignore something just because you don’t understand it. If you do, there will be no next time.”

Suddenly, the words of the knight who had taught him came back to him.

With the sunset breaking through, Ragna swung his sword.

He showed his trump card.

He used Will. It was an unknown power based on will.

Beyond just interrupting the flow, the strength of his arms, legs, reaction speed, and more broke through their limits in an instant.

All techniques became faster and stronger. He accelerated, and strength built up.

He thrust, sliced, and bent his sword, swinging it from outside of the enemy’s field of view.

Ragna blocked the thrust with a deflection, parried the slice with his blade, and with a rapid increase in speed, he countered and pushed it back. In other words, he broke the flow entirely.

Ragna’s sword didn’t stop there, continuing to strike with his large blade like he was flicking a thin twig.

To build speed, he had to extend his foot, but at that moment, Ragna’s sword passed by.

He needed to raise his sword from below to force the enemy back, but instead, the enemy’s sword thrust forward first.

It wasn’t a great force, but it still interrupted the flow.

After pushing the opponent back with that, Ragna spoke.

“This is how it’s done.”

Ragna’s mouth opened.

“You.”

What was the reason for the man who had trusted in his talent and come this far?

Power? No.

The blood vessels in his eyes burst.

There had been someone higher than him in the order of knights.

If it were a knight, well, that was just the way it was.

But this was a fellow squire. Every time they fought, he had won.

He had won a hundred times out of a hundred.

So, it should have been the same after a thousand battles. But it wasn’t.

The man had slowly climbed over him, one step at a time.

Eventually, after fighting ten times, he started losing once in a while, and soon, it was difficult to win five out of ten.

“Why!”

He cried out.

Why had someone like this been placed in front of him?

The sky was unfair. The goddess of fortune was biased.

He had reached the limit of his talent, but why was that guy!

Ragna’s sword and the squire’s sword crossed. One sword beheaded, and the other stabbed uselessly into the air.

That was all.