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A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 655: How Do You Feel? · Oct 14, 2026

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Chapter List (976)

Page number / 20

651 Chapter 649: How to Break Limits 2026-10-14
652 Chapter 650: Even If Talent Speaks of Limits, the Heart Does Not 2026-10-14
653 Chapter 651: The Apostle and Enlightenment 2026-10-14
654 Chapter 652: Three, Spells, and Even a Wraith 2026-10-14
655 Chapter 653: So I Grasped the Sword, and So I Sang 2026-10-14
656 Chapter 654: Sparring and the Real Thing 2026-10-14
657 Chapter 655: How Do You Feel? 2026-10-14
658 Chapter 656: So This Really Isn’t a Joke 2026-10-14
659 Chapter 657: I Saw the Truth 2026-10-14
660 Chapter 658: Sermon 2026-10-14
661 Chapter 659: The Knight Order I Longed and Dreamed For 2026-10-14
662 Chapter 660: The Ragged Saint 2026-10-14
663 Chapter 661: Flowing Sword 2026-10-14
664 Chapter 662: A Usual Day 2026-10-14
665 Chapter 663: Price and Gift 2026-10-14
666 Chapter 664: You’re Back, You Crazy Fairy 2026-10-14
667 Chapter 665: Red-Cheeked Esther 2026-10-14
668 Chapter 666: The Madman with the Hammer 2026-10-14
669 Chapter 667: Penna Is Enough 2026-10-14
670 Chapter 668: Interesting 2026-10-14
671 Chapter 669: The Irresistible Commander 2026-10-14
672 Chapter 670: Grida, the Woman You Never Forget 2026-10-14
673 Chapter 671: Not at Night 2026-10-14
674 Chapter 672: You Brought Another Woman? 2026-10-14
675 Chapter 673: With a Similar Look 2026-10-14
676 Chapter 674: The Three Irons 2026-10-14
677 Chapter 675: Stagnant Water 2026-10-14
678 Chapter 676: Interpreter Shinar 2026-10-14
679 Chapter 677: What Will I Leave Behind 2026-10-14
680 Chapter 678: Blessings and Respect 2026-10-14
681 Chapter 679: Enkrid Knows How to Lose 2026-10-14
682 Chapter 680: A Night of Realization and Killing Intent 2026-10-14
683 Chapter 681: Playing with Fire 2026-10-14
684 Chapter 682: I Don’t Shy Away from Any Kind of Fight 2026-10-14
685 Chapter 683: Spring Sunlight and Mist 2026-10-14
686 Chapter 684: Amber Dress 2026-10-14
687 Chapter 685: Remede Omnia 2026-10-14
688 Chapter 686: A Bit of a Detour 2026-10-14
689 Chapter 687: Swordsmanship of Calculation 2026-10-14
690 Chapter 688: A Familiar Face 2026-10-14
691 Chapter 689: Twin-Blade Welcome 2026-10-14
692 Chapter 690: Between Familiarity and Strangeness 2026-10-14
693 Chapter 691: I Refuse 2026-10-14
694 Chapter 692: Blind Spots, Errors, and Contradictions 2026-10-14
695 Chapter 693: Excellent 2026-10-14
696 Chapter 694: React 2026-10-14
697 Chapter 695: Enkrid Let a Woman Into His Room 2026-10-14
698 Chapter 696: Already Knew, or Intended 2026-10-14
699 Chapter 697: False Strike 2026-10-14
700 Chapter 698: Leaving Nothing to Chance 2026-10-14

“Weren’t you going to meet a fairy?”

Jaxon asked. Like he often did when surprised, his tone dropped into informal speech. Even from the rooftop, his voice pierced the air clearly. It carried a certain force—cold flame, perhaps.

Chilly, yet full of heat. Challenging.

His eyes burned, but his voice was low and sharp.

“There was a demon instead.”

No matter what Jaxon said, Enkrid’s tone stayed flat. A little bewildered, perhaps.

“So?” Jaxon pressed.

“...I struck with all I had and killed it.”

Normally, he wouldn’t have spoken that way. These days, he could give more detailed explanations—he no longer had to sound like a madman. He’d systematized his thinking.

But that kind of °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° language wasn’t suitable when facing people with energy sharp as a blade. So the old words he’d once said to Ermen came out by habit.

Still, it wasn’t the kind of thing these people would complain about.

“Not wrong,” Ragna agreed, standing up.

With a few steps forward, Ragna drew his sword.

Shiiing.

A sound as clear and cold as frost.

He threw the scabbard aside with his left hand and gripped the sword with both.

“Move aside, sulking pup. It’s my turn.”

While Enkrid had been away, Ragna had apparently acquired a fine sword. The blade shimmered a pale blue, the color of the sky.

It was forged from Valerian steel, Noir iron, and pure silver.

Thick and long—much like his previous heavy blade—it matched his style.

A gift from the heavens, they called him. A genius. And now, the fire in his eyes was visible for all to see. He made no attempt to hide it.

Enkrid stared at Ragna, and Ragna spoke.

“If you can’t block this, you’ll die.”

When you train with a sword, losing a limb is to be expected. That’s how Ragna learned.

He spoke seriously, yet there was a slight curl to his lips—anticipation, joy, and excitement, all mingled in the reckless way of youth.

Just from his expression and posture, Enkrid could read his emotions.

He’d always been good at it, but spending time among fairies—who practiced emotional restraint—had sharpened that sense further.

So when Ragna said it with so much excitement, Enkrid responded with a serious question.

“You’re not going to hold back too, are you?”

Ragna replied with his sword.

There wasn’t even a visible preparatory motion—just a sudden, sharp thrust that split the air.

Clang!

Enkrid raised Penna vertically, blocking with the flat of the blade, and leapt sideways.

Boom!

Air tore as Ragna’s prepared second strike cut through where Enkrid had been.

The opening thrust followed by a cutting slash.

None of it was light. Yet on the surface, it looked like Enkrid was dodging with casual ease.

He predicts and reacts.

If there’s a miscalculation, he recalculates instantly. If that fails, he blocks with force. Even if it looks forced, the result still seems like everything flows his way.

He changes tactics in real time.

It was as if he computed every variable and stayed focused through the chaos.

But is that even possible?

If you’re looking up, you can’t see your feet. What Enkrid was doing was like seeing both at once.

He makes the accidental look inevitable.

He fought with a macro-level understanding of the battle.

Normally, this would be nonsense. But when someone is doing it right in front of you—there’s nothing to say.

Rem saw the result before the fight truly began.

Before Enkrid arrived, if Rem and Ragna fought ten times, they’d draw all ten. It was hard to judge a victor. If Rem had been overwhelmed, Ragna would be too.

The Wavebreaker Sword didn’t allow for counter-strategy. Everything got blocked. Even Ragna wouldn’t be able to break through. It would come down to endurance.

Unyielding.

And once that moment came, the bottomless Will would welcome the fool who tried.

When Rem fought Enkrid, it felt like being dragged into a swamp. Slowly submerged, inch by inch.

That was what Enkrid imagined when he thought of strategy—grabbing the enemy by the ankle and pulling them under, until the battlefield itself was in his favor.

Rem had seen it. Ragna felt it.

I’m going to lose.

His genius condensed the process into outcome. If the fight continued like this, he would eventually lose.

As soon as that thought came, Ragna shifted his stance.

He’d shown this move to Rem before. A technique that was nearly impossible to counter.

He tensed every muscle in his body and poured all his Will into a downward strike.

It was a simple, textbook greatsword slash—but for the one on the receiving end, it wasn’t.

It was like lightning hurled by the gods.

It was a technique modeled after Enkrid’s way of pouring Will into a blow—reforged in Ragna’s own style.

To Ragna, it was just a mighty slash.

He widened his stance, raised both arms overhead. All in a blink. The preparatory motion was so short, it made blocking that much harder.

In a battle where your life hangs on a single swing, even a seasoned warrior could only focus on what lay a step ahead.

That’s why knights called their battle sense “foresight.”

Even with knightly insight, this kind of moment couldn’t be predicted. Even if it was—it would be too late. Try to dodge, and the sword would follow.

Ragna’s footwork was deceptively fast. Even compared to Rem, who played across the vast western plains.

Retreating wouldn’t be enough. When Rem faced it, he’d rushed forward just before the sword came down—to halve the force of the strike.

It was dangerous. They’d almost killed each other. After that, they stopped sparring. One of them was bound to die if it continued.

Now Ragna was about to swing that same strike at Enkrid.

It was a moment where anyone would think: There’s no opening.

“...Damn.”

Audin murmured.

Just as Ragna was gathering momentum, Enkrid stepped far back.

It was hard to say whether Ragna had completed his stance first or Enkrid had withdrawn first. It was almost simultaneous.

Ragna could still chase him and swing. It was the move he’d developed using Oara’s Continuous Sword technique.

But the power would be diminished. Enkrid had retreated just enough.

A tactical retreat.

He’d read and predicted the form of the fight. It reminded some of Acker’s Spiderweb Swordsmanship, but it was even more refined.

Acker’s method trapped and pinned down the enemy—but what Enkrid had just done was to nullify everything, no matter what the enemy tried.

Is he just thinking faster?

No. He had two tracks of thought.

Rem noticed. So did Jaxon. And now Ragna and Audin noticed too.

Their eyes sparkled.

Ragna finally swung. Enkrid responded by sweeping his short sword sideways.

Two blades imbued with Will collided with a tremendous sound.

BOOM!

It was as if air itself shattered.

Lightning struck from the sky—only to be stopped by a volcanic eruption from below.

Sky-blue streaks and pale moonlight-colored lines clashed and parted.

Neither wanted to take the full brunt of it, so the blow only glanced.

It was a spar. Each took a step back.

As they passed one another—one to the left, the other to the right—a gap opened between them.

That was the end of the fight.

Ragna had spent nearly all his Will. He needed to recover. Enkrid did not.

“Shall we continue?”

Enkrid asked, raising Penna upright in front of his face.

Ragna stared into Enkrid’s blue eyes for a moment, then let his sword droop and stepped beside Rem.

Seeing Rem and Ragna standing side by side was comical in a way—especially to those who knew how much their relationship had soured while Enkrid was gone.

“Now then, our two sulking brothers can step aside,” Audin said, walking forward.

His eyes blazed with the same hunger. Joy, excitement, and anticipation burned in his gaze.

Had he always been like this? Or had Enkrid changed him?

It didn’t matter anymore.

They were all brimming with competitive spirit, desperate to fight like madmen.

Golden light shimmered from Audin’s body. It clung like sand, flowing over him and back up his legs. The golden grains covering him were a sign of his divine power.

“This is my current strength,” he declared.

Audin moved.

From his clenched fist, light exploded.

Whoosh—! The light condensed into a single point and shot toward Enkrid’s face.

It was a punch—his left foot pivoted, hips twisted, and the blow was unleashed. With divine power and a hardened body behind it, the strike looked like a spear made of light.

Crash!

Enkrid blocked it too.

The spear of light didn’t end with one blow. It scattered, storming forward like falling starlight.

Fists, feet, sometimes claw-like fingers tried to grasp his body.

Enkrid blocked and moved, again and again.

To the untrained eye, it looked like a one-sided assault from Audin. He pressed forward, while Enkrid gave no ground.

When Audin finally closed the distance, Enkrid dropped Penna, grabbed Audin’s arm, twisted it, and slammed his knee into Audin’s chin.

Crack!

Audin blocked with his palm, but couldn’t stop Enkrid from stepping back and reclaiming Penna.

Every movement flowed like water.

From dropping the blade to reclaiming it—it all seemed calculated.

Yes, battle involved chance and luck—but Enkrid made it feel like everything was part of the plan. Even failed calculations looked premeditated.

He split his thoughts, accelerated them, and fought by computing every variable in an instant.

I can’t win, Rem thought again.

Audin likely felt the same.

Even if he had the most solid divine power among them, there were clear limits.

From the side, Rem watched. His axe trembled.

The sentient weapon spoke to him.

I get it. But you’re not trying to kill him, so I won’t interfere. This is play, after all.

The axe believed it could kill—but Rem had no such intention. The axe misunderstood his desire to win for a desire to kill.

But they were not the same.

If Rem unleashed the axe’s full power, he might find a way.

But he didn’t want to.

Even though he had lost—he didn’t feel bitter. On the contrary, it was exhilarating.

Audin seemed to feel the same.

“I lost,” Audin said—he was the only one of the three to admit it out loud.

Then, dripping sweat, he asked:

“How do you feel?”

Looking now, Enkrid had endured just as much. His entire body was soaked in sweat.

So were Ragna and Rem.

Audin’s question held many meanings.

They all thought back to when Enkrid had first arrived as their squad leader.

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