A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Ting.

A clear sound resonated as he flicked the blade with his finger.

When held up to the light, a subtle blue hue reflected. It must have been made of a unique metal.

‘It doesn’t seem to be Valyrian steel.’

This was the sword he had taken after killing Mitch Hurrier. It was obviously a high-quality, expensive sword. How could he just leave it behind?

Anyway, would Krais know?

Encrid turned his head to the side.

There, sitting three steps away, was Krais, staring at him intently.

With those big eyes, Krais looked at him with a curious expression.

Encrid opened up and asked, “What?”

Before asking about the metal of the sword, he felt he needed to address that strange look.

“It’s fascinating.”

“What is?”

“Your left hand.”

As he spoke, Krais glanced at Encrid’s left hand.

Was he always this good with his left hand?

It didn’t seem so, considering they hadn’t been together for just a day or two.

The left hand was quite impressive.

Is this what they call a genius?

Krais himself didn’t have any talent for swordsmanship or martial arts, so he couldn’t tell just by looking.

‘Wasn’t he ordinary before?’

Aside from his actions, his skills seemed to have been ordinary.

When Encrid saved him, risking half his life to protect another, Krais had thought, ‘What kind of person does that?’

‘Risking your life to protect someone else, that’s not something that makes sense.’

Just because they were in the same squad, did that mean he had to save him? It was less than a week since they had first met.

There was a big difference between his skills then and now.

The enemy commander who ambushed them was clearly no ordinary person.

And Encrid had parried the sword of such a formidable opponent with just his left hand?

“I’ve been training consistently.” Encrid answered nonchalantly. Krais nodded and asked again.

“So, uh, did you kill the ambushing commander?”

Was it his left hand, or what kind of battle was it?

Intensity? Thrill? It was a situation filled with such emotions. If things had gone wrong, the Platoon leader would have died.

Had that happened, they would have crossed the river of death hand in hand with Vengeance or whatever his name was, and Esther.

But in that intense situation, the Platoon leader remained calm. He faced the approaching enemy as if it was a natural opponent.

“It was a chaotic battle.”

Again, Encrid’s answer was nonchalant.

Krais concluded, ‘A late-blooming genius.’

His talent must have blossomed late.

There was no reason or need to delve deeper. Aside from his curiosity, it was obvious there wouldn’t be any answers.

Even if he tried to doubt him, there was nothing to go on.

Is there some grand secret? There’s nothing here that would suggest that.

Unless the Platoon leader could foresee the future and knew everything that was going to happen at that moment.

‘But that’s just ridiculous.’

No prophet or fortune-teller could predict a situation with such meticulous detail.

Moreover, Krais believed that most of these fortune-tellers were just scam artists desperate to make a quick buck.

‘The world runs on Krona.’

It rises and falls with Krona. Why are Naurillia and Aspen fighting?

In his view, there was only one reason.

The Green Pearl Plains, whichever kingdom controls it, essentially gains a second granary.

‘Even I’d jump at the chance to take it.’

Therefore, the war between the two nations was inevitable.

In an era of war and struggle, taking up swords and spears for profit was all too natural.

So, Encrid’s genius, which wouldn’t contribute to Krona, could be ignored here.

“What kind of metal do you think this is?” Encrid asked, holding out the sword the enemy commander had wielded.

He had brought it along amidst everything.

“It’s good metal.”

“Do you think I asked just to hear that kind of answer?”

Of course not.

There was no need to ponder.

“There’s a famous iron ore deposit in the Kingdom of Aspen, called Demp.”

“Demp? Demp, Demp. I’ve heard of it. Isn’t that the hidden village between the river and the mountains?”

Muttering to himself, Encrid nodded. He had wandered the continent for quite some time.

Krais nodded and responded.

“Yes, they say the iron from Demp shows this kind of peculiar hue. It starts with a light blue tint, gets deeper, and the best quality iron shows no color at all.”

This was just what he had heard.

But one thing was certain: a sword made from Demp iron would be more expensive than Valyrian steel. Probably pricier than Noir Mountain iron as well.

So this was quite an, exceedingly, very expensive sword.

“If you sell that…”

“I’m not selling it.”

“Huh? Are you going to switch swords?”

For those who venture into battle, there’s nothing more important than a weapon they’re familiar with. This is common knowledge, something Krais was also aware of.

So it was unlikely that the Platoon leader would switch from a sword he was accustomed to.

“What if I used both?”

This wasn’t directed at Krais. It was something Encrid muttered to himself.

A spring breeze, mixed with warmth instead of chill, rustled Encrid’s hair.

Through the strands of hair, Encrid’s gaze rested on the sword.

Krais saw the look in the Platoon leader’s eyes.

A peculiar expression, he thought.

How to describe it?

Eyes that shone brightly, full of life and vigor, like those of a boy receiving an unexpected gift.

Seeing that look, Krais couldn’t bring himself to push Encrid to sell the sword any further.

The Platoon leader, Encrid’s blue eyes, reminiscent of a lake, were gleaming with excitement, much like Esther’s.

Encrid didn’t care whether Krais was watching him or not.

The reason he had become proficient with his left hand? He didn’t need a grand excuse.

In fact, there was no excuse to be made.

It’s not something that could be easily explained.

All he could say was, ‘I’ve been training all this time.’

It might sound like he was becoming some sort of genius.

But there was no other way.

More importantly, Encrid felt something akin to talent this time.

A sense of rapid advancement.

An experience where his skills improved dramatically.

Like grasping what would usually take a hundred swings in just a few.

‘It’s intriguing, but…’

Would that happen again? He didn’t know. He didn’t need to know.

He just had to keep doing what he was doing.

He could continue walking his path steadily.

For Encrid, talent was never the main focus.

‘When my body recovers…’

He could try various things.

Sitting on a makeshift seat—a rock in front of the infirmary at the rear—Encrid immersed himself in reflection.

Training, left hand, right hand, chaotic battle, Mitch Hurrier, his sword, the fight, the battlefield.

As he thought deeply, he wanted to get up and move.

“They told you not to strain yourself. Why do you think I’m watching over you here?”

Krais said offhandedly beside him. Yes, he was right.

He was told to rest completely for at least a few days.

This was the medic’s instruction after seeing his injuries.

The rear camp was handled by the supply unit, while the 2nd Company 3rd platoon, Vengeance’s platoon, stayed behind for defense, awaiting reinforcements.

Once reinforcements arrived, Encrid planned to head to the front lines.

For that, his body needed to heal.

His right hand was still in a splint.

His shoulder had a shallow cut.

There was a puncture wound on his left forearm from a dagger.

Though not major injuries individually, they were wounds that could worsen with too much movement.

‘Well, this is just great.’

His body ached in various places due to attempting a strenuous joint lock.

Had he not trained in the Isolation Technique.

Had he not focused on a single point.

Had the Heart of the Beast not supported him.

Had he not sensed the blade’s presence.

‘I would have been the one to die.’

Encrid sat idly, focusing on recovery.

All the while, he mentally practiced sword swings.

At first with just his right hand, then holding one sword with both hands.

At the end of his mental training, Encrid held his sword in his right hand and Mitch Hurrier’s sword in his left.

‘Can I do this?’

He didn’t know. He just wanted to try. It felt right in his hands.

Dual-wielding.

‘First, I’ll need more strength.’

Before attempting dual-wielding, he needed to focus on strengthening himself. Wielding two swords with one in each hand is a completely different challenge compared to using just one.

One of his instructors had criticized this approach.

“Dual swords? It’s just a great way to get yourself killed. If you can’t handle one sword properly, trying to use two is foolish. Even skilled swordsmen rarely attempt it.”

The instructor had been blunt. Where had he met that instructor?

It was in a large city.

The instructor had said that refined swordsmanship comes from a refined body.

After receiving his teachings, Encrid had a rather bitter experience.

As he pondered, he started to feel hungry. When injured, it was important to eat well and rest.

“Food’s here.”

Krais brought him some food just in time.

Thin wheat bread, thick bacon, dried fruits, and cheese.

It was a feast.

“Did you raid the supply tent?”

“No. The supply company commander seems grateful to you. If things had gone wrong, he might have lost his head.”

Krais said this while tapping his neck with his hand.

It made sense. The rear camp existed to supply the troops.

If they had been thoroughly ransacked by the enemy, whose fault would it be?

Who was responsible?

No need to ask, it was the supply company commander’s responsibility. If there had been a fire in the supply tent, he could have been executed.

A commander who loses a battle may be tolerated, but a commander who fails in their duty to maintain security cannot be forgiven.

“Let’s eat.”

Encrid ate and drank, drinking water instead of alcohol. Krais took care of him, if not meticulously, at least attentively.

Three days passed like this.

“We’re heading out. Will you join?”

Vengeance asked, fully armed.

The reinforcements had arrived at the rear.

The situation at the front lines was reportedly getting more intense.

With all his squad members at the front, Encrid had to go as well.

His wounds from the sword cuts and stabs weren’t fully healed, but walking was no problem.

“I have to go.”

Krais stood beside him, lost in thought.

‘Seeing the Platoon leader wield a sword…’

It didn’t seem like he was going to die anytime soon.

Maybe he should stop staying in the rear and follow along?

Even picking up a few fallen spoils of war could be quite profitable.

Moreover, with the supply commander replaced and unfamiliar faces among the soldiers from the newly arrived 3rd Regiment, staying in the rear wasn’t appealing.

Since things had turned out this way…

‘Let’s go out and collect some spoils.’

So Krais decided to join as well.

“Meow.”

Despite resting for three days, Esther still seemed weak.

Encrid picked Esther up.

She wasn’t very heavy.

Is she eating well?

Why does it seem like she’s not growing at all?

Young creatures are supposed to grow quickly, aren’t they?

It seemed like her size hadn’t changed much since he first saw her.

“Are you eating well?” Encrid asked, patting Esther’s head.

Esther blinked and looked up.

There was a man with eyes similar to hers.

Who was worrying about whom?

He had almost died again.

Thump, thump.

Esther tapped Encrid’s chest with her front paw.

She was telling him not to worry about her.

“Alright, I’ll make sure to get you some food when I can.”

It seemed Encrid misunderstood her. But it wasn’t a big deal.

You foolish human, let’s go.

Esther closed her eyes, still tired.

Encrid started walking. The only noticeable difference was that he now carried two swords at his waist.

“Two swords?” Vengeance asked.

Encrid nodded.

He had seen Encrid use his left hand and had even sparred with him.

Encrid was known for doing strange things, so Vengeance didn’t think much of it.

Joined by Vengeance’s platoon, they marched towards the front lines. The journey was uneventful.

Upon arriving at the front, they were greeted by the cold air of the battlefield.

As they walked through the path, the mingled scent of blood and metal filled the air, and the sky grew dark, threatening rain.

The place was filled with a mix of stagnant water, blood, metal, and other smells, giving off the scent of death.

It was the front-line base.

And there…

“Damn, I thought I’d wait forever. Huh, what’s this? I told you to rest, and you’re more injured? Huh?”

“Well, it just happened.”

Encrid’s platoon members were present.

Rem, who seemed ready to start a fight, was calmed down with a gesture.

It felt like something always happened whenever he was separated from them, but what could he do? Things had turned out this way.

Thanks to Vengeance making the report on their behalf, Encrid joined the platoon in the barracks and briefly explained what had happened in the rear.

“You always have fun without me.” Rem muttered, picking his nose in frustration.

And that was the end of it. They survived, and being here was all that mattered.

When Encrid settled down in a corner of the tent and asked for an update on the battlefield, Jaxon came over and quietly filled him in.

“Both sides are just watching each other.”

It turned out there hadn’t been any significant battles recently.

The forces gathered here, including reinforcements, amounted to more than two battalions of infantry.

So, over a thousand infantry soldiers had assembled.

In addition to this, there were the Royal Guard, scouts, and rear guards protecting the supply lines.

‘This is supposed to be the start of a full-scale war.’

The main battle.

Knights,wizards, and shamans were waiting in the Green Pearl Plains for the main clash.

In this situation, both armies were closely watching this fight.

No one knew exactly how things had come to this, but it was said that the situation had become complicated.

The infantry battle to block alternative routes had become the starting point for all the battles.

Whoever won here would set the tone for the rest of the conflict.

This fight would undoubtedly impact the main battle.

It would affect morale and, if they won, give their side more advantageous positions to use.

Opening up alternate routes would also make it easier to deploy special units.

Both nations’ main forces were wary, avoiding deploying additional support beyond infantry, so they were in a standoff.

The atmosphere in the unit was tense, as if a full-scale battle could erupt at any moment.

The tension was visible in everyone’s sharp nerves.

Except, of course, for the ‘Madmen Squadron’.

So, Encrid thought, ‘Ah, it’s a battle. It’s soon. What should I do? I’ll just train.’ and remained calm.

Waking up at dawn, Encrid trained his body with the Isolation Technique, as usual.

The night watchman, observing this, thought it was typical of the “Madmen Platoon Leader”

It felt like witnessing a long-standing tradition, passed down from the Troublesome Squad leader before him.

Rain or shine, swinging his sword relentlessly.

That was him.

“There are no normal people in this squad.” the watchman muttered as he watched Encrid.

“Moving around from dawn, are you, brother?”

Before the sun even rose, the watchman turned away as he saw the friendly madman and the training maniac grappling and twisting each other’s limbs.

It seemed like they were just having a conversation, and suddenly they were twisting wrists and hugging wildly.

‘Are their heads screwed on right?’

The situation felt tense as if a deadly battle could break out at any moment, making the watchman feel anxious.

Morale was already low, and the unit’s atmosphere was at its worst.

Yet, they seemed to be doing all sorts of things.

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