A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

What Enkrid showed was a kind of absolute defense.

A perfect wall formed through reaction speed, swordsmanship, and a perspective that seemed to survey all.

His thinking was especially exceptional.

He didn’t look at points, but at lines, and beyond lines, at planes.

Not the trees, but the forest.

He took in the opponent’s whole body with his eyes and reacted.

And yet, even in moments of split-second judgment, he didn’t fall behind.

If they entered real combat and exchanged actual blades, the result could be different.

But that wasn’t something they could know now.

“He really mixed everything together quite evenly.”

That was how Rem saw it.

He felt a sense of pride seeing Enkrid properly applying what he had taught.

Making the most appropriate judgment in the shortest instant had always been one of his own specialties.

That didn’t mean he had to let him win, though.

To determine victory or defeat in real combat, one of them would have to die or suffer serious injury.

Winning like that held no meaning.

“Then that means I’ve lost.”

Victory had to come in the form of a duel.

Rem began to ponder.

He thought, devised, and craved.

“Uské had it from the start.”

He already knew the magnitude of the Will that Enkrid possessed.

And he had come back with significantly increased skill.

That was the reason Enkrid was acting so cocky now.

“Why is it that every time he goes somewhere and comes back, he’s changed again?”

Had he stashed some jar of honey somewhere on the continent?

Of course not—Rem knew that well.

He’d gone with him all the way to the west himself, and there had been nothing like that.

“Training every day, spending every day the same.”

It was nothing but relentless training to the point of boredom.

That was all Enkrid had done.

It was something Rem had done as well, but lately, Enkrid had been dedicating himself to training with a fierceness.

Even when Rem had first found enjoyment in physical exertion back in the West, he hadn’t worked this hard.

It wasn’t about fun anymore.

Once a goal emerged, zeal naturally followed.

“I don’t want to lose.”

The flame of competitive spirit burned brighter than any pride.

He didn’t want to kill him, so all he wanted now was to win.

“Only victory.”

Setting aside fifteen days’ worth of eating, sleeping, and relieving himself, he sought a method.

“Whether I win with an axe or like this.”

He increased his mobility through backward movement training.

A new method he had refined while dueling with Ragna.

If he had to name it, it would be Partial Descent.

But there was no need to give it a name.

He just needed to draw on what he needed in the moment, naturally.

That’s what Rem did.

He widened the distance and fired a series of high-speed projectiles.

This didn’t consume much sorcery power.

Though he imbued the projectiles with a bit of magic, it wasn’t excessive.

He didn’t have to burn his entire body to fight.

This way, Rem could employ a strategy similar to Enkrid’s Uské method.

Though his approach leaned entirely toward offense, not defense.

The flying projectiles were like waves.

As long as the waves continued, Enkrid would have no choice but to block them.

With just this, Enkrid’s movements were bound.

Wiiiing. Boom! Wiiiing. Boom!

Two slings of differing rhythm threw projectiles along different trajectories, tearing through the air.

Yet Enkrid blocked them again and again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

With every block, an explosion erupted.

Smoke billowed up, and the deflected projectiles destroyed part of the dormitories situated on one side of the training field.

Even the deflected projectiles could crush the skull of a decent fighter.

Thankfully, no one in the area was weak enough to die from such things.

No—there was one.

Anne, the healer and alchemist, had come to receive the leaves of the Druires plant.

The red-haired, freckled girl had just stepped inside.

Enkrid had meant to give her the items earlier, but Anne had preparations to make as well, so she had only now come to receive the fairy’s gifts.

Just then, a projectile flew toward her chest.

If left alone, she would die.

Someone blocked the projectile in front of her.

Clang!

Ragna twisted his greatsword into the ground and deflected the projectile using the flat of the blade.

It had already lost force from a previous deflection, so the sound was quieter than when Enkrid blocked them.

In a brief instant, appearing suddenly in a narrowed space, Anne felt like her view was completely blocked by a large back.

“It’s not a good time right now.”

Ragna said indifferently.

Anne quickly assessed the situation and responded.

“...So it seems.”

Her eyes were wide in surprise as she spoke.

Still, aside from Anne, only Lua Gharne, Teresa, Rophod, and Pell were there, and they had either avoided or blocked the attacks well.

Only the poor dormitory and the various structures scattered across the training grounds had been wrecked.

A rather tall wall blocked three projectiles before it crumbled with a heavy crash.

The earthen, stone, and mortar wall collapsed, kicking up clouds of dust.

Through the dust that rose as the projectiles were blocked, Enkrid’s eyes glowed a bright blue.

He had condensed his Will and was locking on.

If there were the slightest opening, he would close the distance.

That was how Enkrid won—by turning mid-to-long range battles into close quarters, where sword and axe could reach.

That was how he sealed off the slings.

Rem, of course, knew dozens of ways to fire or detonate projectiles at a nearby opponent.

But using those meant being ready to kill the opponent.

There was a reason knights were forbidden from dueling each other once they became knights.

Once they fought, their will to kill would awaken.

And if there wasn’t a clear gap in skill, it was hard to stop the fight without killing.

Even when there was a difference, it wasn’t rare for someone to suffer severe injury.

Rem’s gray eyes glowed softly.

His sorcery power circulated through his entire body.

It looked like part of that glow had seeped into the high-speed projectiles in his hand.

That lost bastard had pissed him off so much, he was prepared to half-kill him if it came to that.

There was no need to name a technique.

But if he had just opened a path that had never existed before, then a proper name was necessary.

Letting the Descent stay only in his hands and arms, he moved his wrist with small motions that packed the strength of a giant.

That didn’t need a name—it was just a derivative of an existing skill.

It was something he could just use naturally.

But what he was showing now was a bit different.

“Remain.”

He packed sorcery power into the projectile to be thrown.

Within it, he cast a new sorcery.

It wasn’t the creation of a talisman.

Nor was it truly a Descent technique.

Once, the knight named Acker had a specialty for letting his Will dwell in his weapon.

Rem did the same with sorcery.

And not even on a weapon he held—he left it in a projectile that had already left his hand.

“Residual.”

Remain behind.

Do not depart.

“Detonate upon contact.”

It was a projectile imbued with an explosive spell.

From the domain of his sixth sense, Enkrid saw a savage beast flying toward him.

If the previous projectiles resembled hailstones, then this one held a clear will.

If one had to compare it, it was like a living beast had been bundled together and hurled at him.

Enkrid did not ignore his intuition.

In an instant, he lowered his stance and shifted his center of gravity.

Not in a posture to advance, but to divert.

He let the force pass below and behind him and tilted his blade Penna in his right hand to strike diagonally upward.

Penna and the beast-like round stone projectile met.

The fight so far had already been enough to prove why a knight’s violence was called a calamity—but this went beyond even that.

A blinding flash erupted, followed by a deafening roar.

KWAAANG!

A terrifying shockwave surged outward.

Ragna, annoyed, grabbed Anne by the shoulder and pulled her behind him, then slashed three times downward with his greatsword using his free hand.

Whoom. Whoom. Whoom.

With those three strikes, the shockwave was cleaved apart.

Even a knight would consider it an incredible feat—but no one had the leisure to be surprised.

Rem might’ve just gone completely mad and tried to kill his own captain—who had time to be impressed?

“You really have lost your mind, huh?”

It was Jaxon’s voice.

Rem sensed the presence of the feral cat approaching from behind, but let it go.

There was killing intent, sure, but it was nothing more than what usually flared up when he got irritated.

Ragna just silently stared at the epicenter of the blast.

“Oh Lord above, is it time for our barbarian brother to come to Your side?”

Audin murmured softly, as if praying.

“He... he died?”

Rophod muttered in surprise.

But Pell shook his head.

He had wandered the fairy city and labyrinth with him.

He had seen him slay a demon.

And on the way back, he had watched him cut down cultists.

That mad captain wouldn’t die so easily anymore.

Granted, if one knew how many times he had died trying to kill that demon called Onekiller, they’d never say that lightly—but Pell’s guess was right.

“This is supposed to be a duel?”

Enkrid’s indifferent voice came out.

His right arm hung limp—maybe broken, maybe just the muscles torn.

At some point, he had switched Penna to his left hand.

At least Penna was still intact, so maybe that was lucky.

The fairy treasure shimmered with faint light in defiance of the explosive sorcery.

Rem looked at Enkrid and chuckled.

“Got a problem with that?”

Of course, Enkrid was the same as ever.

Even after becoming a knight, even after briefly gaining the upper hand against them recently—he hadn’t changed.

“One more round?”

The mad captain grinned brightly as he asked.

It was the kind of smile that wouldn’t show up unless he was truly ecstatic to the point of mania.

“You’re all insane. Seriously.”

Anne muttered, watching the scene.

But for Enkrid, this was all normal.

It was too much fun.

What if he’d failed to deflect that last projectile?

Would he have lost an arm?

But he blocked it.

Rem had done that stunt believing he could block it, and Enkrid had lived up to that expectation.

“Damn, this is thrilling.”

Enkrid thought to himself.

An electric sensation shot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.

The more he replayed the previous moment, the more enjoyable it became.

“What if I changed the blocking angle? But the last projectile wasn’t just a rock, was it? Then there probably aren’t many of them. Dodging something that fast is hard. If I barely dodge it, I’ll get hit by the follow-up. Rem’s the type to fire ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) two in a row. I have to block and endure one by one. But how?”

He didn’t yet see a clear answer.

But he had seen something faintly—something was imbued in Rem’s projectile.

Something new.

A guy who’d reached a place Enkrid hadn’t.

How could that not be exciting?

Would Kraiss feel this happy if he stumbled on a mountain of gold coins?

Enkrid figured he was even happier now than Kraiss would be.

They weren’t fighting to the death.

It was a duel.

So he could take time to reflect and train.

To be honest, he didn’t even see the answer yet.

But the inspiration would return.

And now, he knew how to wait for it.

Of course, he would do everything he could in the meantime.

“Tonight, the stars will be especially visible, brothers.”

Audin said, watching the two.

At his words, Enkrid automatically paused the thoughts he’d been replaying.

Enkrid looked over the aftermath of the duel with Rem.

Rumble, crash.

Just then, a part of the dorm wall collapsed.

What used to be a wall became a heap of rubble.

It was the side where Audin’s room had been.

Half the dorm had caved in—Audin’s room, in particular, had collapsed so thoroughly that it really did become the best place to see the stars.

“That’s true. Your room’s a prime spot now.”

Enkrid replied.

Audin simply smiled and murmured, “Oh Lord...”

That “Oh Lord” seemed to carry a mix of countless emotions.

Enkrid turned his gaze and tried to lift his right arm, but gave up and said,

“But this arm’s done. I need some rest.”

His arm wouldn’t move.

Probably because he had blocked that monstrous attack in a monstrous way.

“Is that your excuse? If you really want to die, I can throw you another one.”

If you looked closely, Enkrid wasn’t the only one injured.

Two of Rem’s fingers were broken too.

Handling something like a descent or divine possession-level sorcery barehanded—this was the natural result.

It wasn’t a complete technique yet.

But did a technique have to be perfect?

Probably not.

Rem knew that well—so he just used it.

The more he used it, the more familiar he’d get, and the clearer the direction for improvement would become.

“Anyway, I need more training too.”

That’s what Rem thought to himself—but didn’t show any sign of it outwardly.

He packed away the slings, gripped the axe handle, and stood upright.

Then he spoke, face suddenly serious and voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“In the West, there’s a saying—‘Urkiola.’ In this language, it means ‘dark sky,’ but to express the meaning properly—it means the dawn before sunrise. You’re all just in the dawn. So you just need to push a bit more. Don’t lose heart. It’s fine. Just put in effort. Efffffort. So what if you can’t beat Captain Enki? That’s your limit. The dark sky—dawn, that’s what it is. Well, sometimes, there’s a dawn that never breaks. But it’s fine, because I’m here.”

A sermon.

His eyes sparkled even more brightly than they had in battle.

His gray eyes radiated a vitality they had never shown before.

He was bursting with life.

Naturally, the faces of those listening to him were changing in the exact opposite way.