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A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 679: Enkrid Knows How to Lose · 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

“Why am I in such a bad mood?”

Rem muttered while watching the departing group.

Next to him, Audin let out a soft laugh and said,

“Must’ve been some sort of realization.”

He was referring to Ragna’s condition.

“Or maybe he’s just gone nuts?”

“That’s possible too.”

Rem glanced at Audin.

Last night, before Enkrid’s departure, Rem had seen Enkrid spar with Audin.

To be exact, it was Enkrid who suddenly appeared and made the request.

“I’d like to have a go before I leave.”

Asking for a match even though he was leaving tomorrow?

To Enkrid, that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Rem had watched without concern—until Enkrid lost.

And it wasn’t just a loss—he got thoroughly beaten.

In the middle of the match, Audin had asked,

“Did you learn a lot?”

“A little.”

To Rem, Enkrid was the kind of man who would gladly die if it meant he could learn one more sword technique before his last breath.

It was a thought that came to him by chance, but it was the right one.

Enkrid had come this far by dying and repeating the same day over and over, clawing his way forward.

“You said block with the wave and strike with the light?”

“Yeah.”

“In doing so, you’ll be revealing your signature techniques completely.”

“Seems that way.”

“From a strategy standpoint, that’s foolish. But I assume you know that doesn’t make it wrong.”

Rem agreed with that statement, though he didn’t join the conversation.

The fanatical bear beastkin said everything that needed saying.

With bruised blue skin around his eyes, Enkrid simply nodded.

If he’d taken the hit a little worse, his eyeball might have ruptured—but his body was like armored steel.

When he swung his sword, he hadn’t yet reached the highest tier within his own system of swordsmanship, but when he got hit, he had.

He had instinctively raised his Will and defended his body.

How could he only get that part right?

‘Because he’s been hit so many damn times.’

That was Rem’s conclusion.

He had taken so many beatings that, at least when it came to taking hits, his body instinctively used Will to protect itself.

So if he could just swing his sword the same way...

To Rem, Audin, Jaxon, and Ragna, it was strange that he couldn’t do it.

If you could open a door with your left hand, why not your right?

But somehow, he couldn’t.

It would’ve been infuriating to see someone who had already become a knight and surpassed you at moments still growing at a snail’s pace.

But truthfully, it wasn’t that frustrating.

Because they had long since acknowledged he was on a different path.

“He’ll come back stronger.”

Rem cast aside his thoughts and spoke.

Slow—but steady.

That was the kind of person Enkrid was.

“Yes, I know.”

Audin nodded.

“And that damn directionless bastard might be getting ready to die, so maybe we should start preparing funeral prayers.”

Rem said it half-joking, half-malicious—but his instincts were frighteningly sharp.

Ragna had changed because he realized he was sick.

“There’s no way, right?”

Audin knew of Ragna’s talent.

Though he himself had been called the most gifted among the apostles of war, even he had to admit Ragna had something different.

The way he reached insight through a moment of focused concentration—it was impossible to imitate.

Not something to be envious of, though.

Audin knew himself well.

He also knew the importance of cherishing what he had.

Since he only knew how to move forward one step at a time, that’s what he’d keep doing.

And his captain, who had accepted his teachings, would do the same.

***

Enkrid and his group left the city, heading in a general direction.

The weather was incredibly good from day one.

Which made sense.

North of the border guard, when spring comes, the rainfall drops significantly.

In short, it rarely rained.

Storms might come in summer, but for now it was a string of warm, peaceful days.

At most, there might be a light drizzle, but a downpour was rare.

Some say the longer spring’s dryness lasts, the stronger the summer storms get—but that was something to find out when the time came.

“If we push the horses and head up to the right wing of the Pen-Hanil Mountains—ah, you lot don’t call it that. We call that part the wing. If we follow that path, we can cross over.”

The only fuss at departure had been stopping Ragna, who insisted on leading the way.

“If you take the lead, we’ll be circling the continent by tomorrow.”

Enkrid reminded Ragna of reality.

“Hey, was it Sena? Talk him down.”

Grida nudged Anne with an elbow.

“It’s Anne. I’m so tired of saying my name. That’s the fifth time already.”

“Ah, sorry. I’ll just call you Freckles.”

“That’s worse.”

Anne gently took Grida’s comment in stride and pulled Ragna by the arm.

“At least match your pace to mine. I’m not that used to this.”

Though judging by her horseback riding, she looked beyond used to it—she looked skilled.

But Ragna didn’t argue.

“This isn’t the time to worry over small things.”

This was right after they left the city.

Magrun then kicked his horse forward.

“Hyah, hyah! Hyat!”

Odinkar and Grida matched speed, and Enkrid followed suit.

Naturally, Ragna and Anne trailed behind them.

They had no urgent business, but they began a forced march.

“Why waste time on the road? We can’t even last ten days on horseback anyway. Until then, we run. That’s the only way.”

So said Magrun.

They were people who despised wasting time on the road.

They would rather run all day and swing their swords one more time at night.

Enkrid couldn’t have asked for better company.

To Anne, though, it was pure hell.

“Are you all insane?”

Even so, Anne kept up.

She had a reason—to identify the nature of the illness as soon as possible.

More precisely, to kill the illness.

That was the sort of resolve she had.

“I made a promise to myself. If this kind of disease is still tormenting or killing anyone, I’ll make sure I’m there.”

It was a brief thought she shared with Ragna.

Enkrid heard it too.

And so the days passed—riding by day, resting at night.

During that time, Enkrid would sink into himself and organize his thoughts.

He found his mind sharpened during these stretches where he could move without distraction.

He left Ragna in Anne’s care.

Magrun handled navigation.

Grida took care of camp setup.

So he put all trivial thoughts aside.

All that filled his head now were the things Audin had shown him.

He hadn’t sparred before leaving just for the hell of it.

Enkrid had sensed something lacking in himself on an instinctual level—and confirmed it through Audin.

‘Everyone’s figured out how to counter my specialty too easily.’

It was just a sparring match, but if it kept happening, it would carry over into real combat.

A winnable fight could become a loss.

Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon had all broken through his wave-blocking defense.

Grida had dismantled his calculations.

Odinkar’s sword was beginning to show similar trends.

Even in his conversations with Magrun, he felt it.

“You’re kinda predictable.”

That’s what Grida had said once.

Her observational skills were something else.

If Lua Gharne had been here, would she have said something similar?

Putting skill aside, that Frokk’s insight was extraordinary.

Lua Gharne had left for some special training with Teresa and Shinar, so Enkrid hadn’t seen her before departure.

He thought.

And thought again.

Then returned to that final sparring moment with Audin.

Audin, clad in sacred armor, often feigned openings and plugged them himself.

It wasn’t because he lacked technique.

‘It’s deception.’

He deliberately showed gaps and left weaknesses exposed.

Even that deception, he wielded like a technique.

The moment someone thought Audin was slow, they would never be able to beat him.

He was stronger, more calculating, and more skilled than anyone in the squad—but he never hesitated to deceive.

If your specialty was excellent, did that mean you had to fight only with that?

What about Sir Jamal of the Azpen Royal Knights?

‘He saved his trump card for later.’

It didn’t mean you had to make deception your top priority.

It meant you had to know how to use everything you had.

Oara once told him he was too messy, juggling too much.

Told him to throw things away.

Was it greed that made him combine it all instead?

Had he taken the wrong path?

Enkrid was human.

Sometimes anxiety crept over him.

A sharp tingle raced across his skin.

An unpleasant premonition made his heart race.

But only for a moment.

If he had let that fear stop him, he would’ve stayed in “the best today” long ago.

What do you do when you’re afraid?

You swing your sword.

That’s what experience had taught him.

Besides, there wasn’t much else he could do.

That’s why he organized his thoughts by day and practiced his sword by night.

To outsiders, it might’ve looked dull and repetitive.

But—

“Today’s training will save your life tomorrow.”

That was Ragna, who’d gone from slacker to the embodiment of diligence.

Naturally, everyone just stared at him like he’d lost it.

“I know.”

Only Enkrid responded, calmly.

And kept swinging his sword.

Magrun watched him and couldn’t help but be amazed.

‘Is he planning to die tomorrow?’

He might be.

That’s how curses like this work.

They start young and slowly kill you.

In his case, it had progressed faster than usual.

Which was why he had things he wanted to leave behind.

His entire life had been for that purpose.

To leave his mark on Zaun.

That was the life of Magrun Zaun.

But even he had never followed such a brutal schedule.

And Enkrid had been like this since they left the city.

He spent each dense, demanding day the same way.

Doing things that even Magrun couldn’t bring himself to attempt.

There was no way it wasn’t impressive.

“Magrun, got time for a round?”

That evening, Enkrid even challenged him to a spar.

He knew he couldn’t win by skill.

He’d never get over that wall, even if he fought to the death.

Rem was impressive too, but in terms of sparring—Enkrid was even more relentless.

Magrun, though his words were rough, was a man quick to acknowledge others.

That was one of his strengths.

Because of it, he had a sharp eye for technique and could learn faster than others.

That’s why he was said to have natural talent for mastery.

‘But this guy’s slow.’

Magrun had seen countless geniuses.

Growing up in Zaun, how could he not?

But none of them had the dull talent of the man in front of him.

And yet, Enkrid was the most remarkable.

That was how Magrun saw it.

“Anytime.”

Clang!

Their blades clashed, and the spar began.

After a brief exchange, Magrun won.

And this was the first reason why he respected Enkrid so deeply.

“I lost.”

Enkrid knew how to lose.

“Yeah.”

Magrun nodded.

Then Enkrid asked,

“You gonna tell me what you saw?”

“There are a few things.”

Magrun calmly relayed what he had seen and sensed.

Enkrid asked questions, repeated points, and nodded.

Yes, forget everything else—this was undeniable.

To know how to lose, and to accept it with this attitude—no skill or strength could compare.

‘He opens up fully, lays himself bare.’

He asked for help to learn, not with groveling or flattery—but with sincerity.

He listened, asked, and requested with genuine intent.

Could someone weaker really have this kind of exchange?

It wasn’t easy.

Truly, it wasn’t.

Not even in Zaun.

Normally, the strong pulled up the weak.

In a place like Zaun, where competition was everything, that was even more emphasized.

But Enkrid broke that mold.

He knew how to lose.

He opened his ears, admitted his weaknesses, and accepted what he lacked.

How could that not be impressive?

Magrun wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Odinkar did too.

Grida didn’t even need to say it.

Ragna even went out of his way to push Enkrid harder.

“If you start half-assing things to hide your technique, it ends there. Don’t you know that? If you don’t, then do it again. Again!”

Ragna was more fired up than ever.

If Shinar had seen it, she would’ve called it igniculus—the moment sparks ignite.

Enkrid never wasted a moment during the journey.

Even while riding, he trained.

This path had no safety posts or garrisons, so monsters and beasts made perfect sparring partners and sacrifices.

Watching others fight was a lesson.

Reflecting on what he learned by fighting himself [N O V E L I G H T] was even better.

As the horseback journey neared its end—

Technique, skill, physical ability, tactical thinking, strategic planning, cognition, judgment, decisiveness, boldness—

Enkrid understood that all of it had to be in harmony to have meaning.

“They must all come together.”

What did he need to do to achieve that?

Dozens of images and memories flashed through his mind.

His thoughts opened up like a gateway.

The process of recalling answers from past memories condensed—and he reached the conclusion in a flash.

“The hands that roast jerky.”

In the corners of his memory library, something shy rose up.

From that shy memory came Aitri’s hammering.

Frokk’s steady hands beside him.

The giant who had become a refined merchant.

The shopkeeper who made marmalade.

The cobbler sewing shoes—

All of them surfaced at once.

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