A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 322

The lightning strikes, how does one stop it?

Today repeated itself.

Whether the boatman was watching or not, Enkrid was consistent.

As always, unchanging.

Whether it was when he first took up his sword and set out to become a mercenary, or when, after being beaten up, he swung his sword towards a tree, it was no different from now.

No, there was something that had changed.

His sight had changed.

What he looked at had changed.

The way he thought had evolved.

His body had changed.

The sword in his hand had changed.

His dream had come closer.

Yet Enkrid was still Enkrid.

He continued to think every day.

‘How can I stop it?’

It was something that had no answer.

Of course, there was no problem.

It had always been the same.

For Enkrid, answers to problems were rare.

Everything around him told him to give up.

It forced him to settle for today.

He had even thought of ways to give up.

Was it the boatman’s trick, or was it always like this? There was never just one way to get through today.

‘What if I run away with everyone?’

What if, the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, with his body aching, he fled madly?

There were several carriages at the Green Pearl fortress.

What if he picked one and ran off?

Would the knights and guards chase him?

They usually only appear in the evening, but if he decided to flee from the morning, would they catch up?

Could they catch up?

He didn’t know.

In truth, he didn’t even need to know.

Because Enkrid wouldn’t do it.

There were many ways to run, and they were easy.

Even if Garrett caught him, it wouldn’t matter.

‘Maybe I should go to the rear and rest.’

Or.

‘I have to go back right away and take care of something.’

That’s all he needed to say.

Who would dare to do anything to the one who led the battlefield to victory and earned the highest achievements?

Within the fortress, there was already a subtly excited atmosphere.

Once Azpen withdrew, it would be a party right away.

They would tear into meat and drink.

Could they welcome tomorrow?

“It’s despair.”

The boatman’s words echoed in his mind.

“You can’t surpass it.”

The boatman repeated the same words.

They were distractions.

But that didn’t change anything.

Enkrid kept swinging his sword relentlessly in his mind.

He searched for a solution.

‘What if I retreat and let it slide?’

How could the sword shake and bend like that?

How could he make contact with the blade and hold it together?

Enkrid thought of today’s repetition as a curse turned into a blessing.

The pain of death was the same even if experienced a thousand times.

Yet, it was endured for the ecstasy that would come after.

And so he welcomed the knight’s sword again and again.

It was a day of repetition that burned with focus.

Because of that, Enkrid could see more.

“Honor.”

It was when the knight came and said just one more time to block it.

In an instant, all the scenes seemed to break apart.

The feeling of dread that had tightened around his body when he first started today played a part in that.

It was because his instincts for evasion were working at full capacity.

That sensation made his focus even more intense.

‘The blade?’

As he tried to retreat and let the sword slide, the blade accelerated.

The speed had changed.

Before the blade could accelerate, Enkrid saw something.

Shudder.

It was definitely like that.

At the same time, Enkrid tilted his sword against the knight’s blade.

He felt like his entire body was being torn apart, but it was a desperate struggle.

Focused solely on the blade, Enkrid didn’t see the knight’s face, but the knight’s expression seemed to show a bit of surprise rather than boredom.

Of course, it quickly disappeared.

Cling.

At the moment the blades met, the shortsword split the dwarf’s gladius.

‘The advantage of weapons?’

There was none.

Thunk.

His heart was stabbed.

Enkrid was dead.

And today repeated again.

This time, it showed a similar pattern.

But he added one more tactic.

As he blocked with the gladius and activated his will, even if his left arm muscles tore, he did it with the mindset of ‘I’ll make it through this.’

It was half a gamble.

The ‘will’ was a power that came through the user’s body, a mystery.

It wasn’t something to use with a body that wasn’t fully recovered.

He felt the left arm’s muscles tearing, but Enkrid still managed to push the sparks in the direction he wanted.

That was the key.

The knight’s sword trembled and twisted, stabbing his heart, but it didn’t split entirely.

A bit, but it bought some time.

For a moment, death was postponed.

“Cough!”

Enkrid staggered back and vomited blood.

At the same time, his body collapsed.

He tried to reach the ground with his left hand, but it wouldn’t support him, and he tilted forward.

Just about to fall.

Thud.

Someone caught his falling body.

Looking down, the tops of their feet were visible.

Shinar was supporting Enkrid’s body with his thighs.

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Enkrid didn’t repeat the same mistake.

He pushed his right hand against the ground.

There was no strength to stand.

Blood kept pouring from his mouth due to the shock to his heart.

“What’s this?”

Shinar asked.

At that moment, something shot down from above the knight’s head.

It was Ragna.

His sword cut through the tent roof with tremendous force.

Sizz!

The sound of the tent tearing rang out, and the sword in his hand shot out fiercely.

The blade was faster than an arrow, striking from above downwards.

When asked about it, wasn’t it a ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) thunder strike?

It wasn’t just for show.

His sword had become lightning.

After channeling ‘the will of severance,’ he displayed the swordsmanship of the northern Jaeun family.

It was the Jaeun family’s lightning slash.

Kwah-rung!

That was the sound heard from Ragna’s blade.

And the knight stabbed upward from below.

What about the lightning slash?

He wasn’t just any knight.

He wasn’t someone who could only wield ‘will.’

With only the fragments of will, the knight could do something no one else could.

He blocked Ragna’s sword with his left palm while stabbing with his own.

Enkrid watched all of it with his eyes.

He didn’t let go of the bowstring of his focus for a moment.

His own body dying didn’t matter.

‘Ah.’

Enkrid could vaguely see it too.

It looked like the knight’s sword had multiplied into dozens of blades in an instant.

“Grrr.”

Enkrid coughed up blood, but it turned into a foamy sputter at the edges of his lips.

Shinar, standing next to him, spoke.

“An elf who loses their partner never forgets revenge.”

No, since when were we partners?

Why are we talking about revenge now, what’s going on?

It sounded firm.

In such a moment, only a fairy could make jokes.

Ragna was thrown to the ground, stabbed by the knight’s sword.

It was a fatal wound.

His eyes went black.

His heart was pierced, but that was expected.

“Shit.”

Krais blocked Enkrid’s way once again.

This time, Dunbakel was with him.

Krrr.

Would it be different with Esther?

Ah, were they not planning to escape?

This time, Ragna was truly dead.

Perhaps it was because he suddenly tried a large technique in his excitement?

Even so, there was a change in the knight’s body.

Through the dying Enkrid’s eyes, between Krais and Dunbakel, he saw the knight’s palm.

Blood from the shortsword dripped onto the floor in drops.

His left hand also bled, dripping down to the floor.

The blood was a deep, bright red.

“Was it cut?”

The knight muttered.

It couldn’t be helped.

No matter how much ‘will’ was in it, he was still an incomplete fragment.

He was a knight.

But to cut through a palm wrapped in ‘will?’

Could that even be cut?

“Was it cut?”

The knight muttered again.

It was a shock, that’s what it meant.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Enkrid had to close his eyes right there.

The time for giving up his left arm had ended.

“Kweeeek.”

He tried to hold it in, but Enkrid let out a quite unpleasant scream before collapsing.

It was the limit.

“You really make a lot of noise when you go.”

Just as Enkrid was dying, he heard Krais’ voice, somber yet eerie.

He closed his eyes and died, then woke up, and today started again.

The shaking blade, the twisting blade.

Above all, the knight’s appearance when he faced Ragna was still vivid in his memory.

He changed his stance, his footwork.

He switched his sword, discarding it after seeing the opponent’s skill.

Well, if it was always the same level of sword strikes on the same path, Enkrid would have already overcome it.

“Alright.”

“What is?”

“Alright!”

"So, what is it?"

Is it normal to wake up and shout out loud like a crazy person from the morning?

Krais kept asking from the side, but Enkrid was deeply immersed in his own world.

It was an immersion like no other.

"No, has he hit his head?"

Krais muttered beside him.

Shinar had similar thoughts.

The strange man had become even stranger than usual.

Well, that was part of his charm.

Enkrid spent a few more of today.

He then began to organize the things he had realized after that.

During this time, he saw a fascinating scene on the most recent today.

By chance, Ragna and Shinar had attacked together, and the sword of the knight they faced had cried out.

Wooo—!

The sword cried based on trembling and vibration.

Sword Echo, also known as Blade Echo.

The sword’s cry.

White light poured out visibly from the knight's two eyes.

It was the visualization of 'Will.'

Woooo— Zhoong!

The knight’s short sword literally drew white rays left and right.

Ragna's sword, caught in the trajectory of the light, was split in half, and Shinar's knives were also severed.

Enkrid, who had attacked first, was granted a brief reprieve once again.

He could see it clearly.

"With an old short sword?"

This wasn't just skill; it could almost be called a miracle or divine technique.

Both the knives and Ragna's sword were cut.

One was a famous sword, while the other was so thick that cutting it seemed impossible, yet it was severed.

Not even a spark flew.

"Like cutting a rotten branch."

Could this only be done with 'Will'?

What was 'Will'?

What was willpower?

Enkrid thought, but no answers came.

His thoughts shifted to a more developmental and healthier direction.

The knight had tried to kill Ragna or sever his arm or leg and had repeated similar words a few times.

"It's a waste."

"You should’ve just held back."

He coveted Ragna's talent.

Enkrid reflected on how Ragna had faced the knight.

He brought up the things engraved in his mind from the repeated days.

He also recalled Shinar's defiance.

He remembered the dead Krais.

He remembered Dunbakel’s struggle.

And he recalled his own death, again and again, while thinking of the knight's sword.

Swordsmanship, swords, struggles.

All of it intertwined and collided in his mind.

"The place is a swamp, and anyone who falls in cannot escape."

The ferryman, in between, still tried to push Enkrid into some pit, but, of course, it was useless.

"Aren't you busy?"

Sometimes, Enkrid would say this first.

On those days, the ferryman would shut up.

It seemed like Enkrid was sulking.

An absurd thought.

Wasn’t that an entity hard to imagine?

Thus, today was the fifty-sixth.

"How do you block lightning?"

He thought it over again and asked Ragna and Shinar.

No day passed without trying to accomplish everything possible.

Among those, he had seen the knight's sword bend toward him and die a few times.

He had died when seeing the sword tremble.

Sparks had been severed, and the Gladius was also cut.

He would never be able to see Blade Echo again.

That was something luck and coincidence had to help with.

To others, it would seem like the goddess of luck was stalking him, but Enkrid knew very well that he wasn't that lucky.

Therefore, he couldn't expect the same luck.

If it wasn't luck, then it meant Ragna, Shinar, and himself needed to work in unison.

"I don’t want that."

His heart did not move.

That required the death of a lazy bum or a joke-loving fairy.

It was something he would have to push.

That was not something he could tolerate.

Dying while receiving a brief reprieve could be seen as something for 'tomorrow,' and he could console himself with that.

But to push his own back?

"Better to bite the sword and rush."

That was his mindset.

And so, he swung his sword alone, agonizing and contemplating.

Endless pondering and considering, moving even half a step forward—Enkrid’s thinking came back to square one.

How do you block lightning?

"Start by confronting the reality."

It was something Ragna had said.

Now, Enkrid understood.

You had to see it and recognize it in order to block it.

"Then, just respond to the speed."

It was something Shinar had said.

You respond first, then strike.

Block.

"So, just do it 'well.'"

It was Ragna’s advice.

The word ‘well’ contained everything.

By the way...

"Ha."

The knight's sword.

The knight’s strike.

Wasn't it truly exhilarating?

"Again."

The words slipped from his mouth by themselves.

A smile followed.

Enkrid felt a joy unlike any other as it surged through him in the repeated today.

The dream had come as a reaper, but the sword he wielded had become his milestone.

And that milestone felt like a light descending through the dark tunnel.

For the ferryman, only darkness filled him, making it seem like despair, but to Enkrid, it was light and exhilaration.

Thus, today began again.

The seventy-second today—his body still a wreck, yet as always, Enkrid moved it.

He had seen Ragna's sword strike while half-dead.

He had seen Shinar's struggles more than ten times after that.

The method?

He didn't know.

Tomorrow?

It wouldn't come.

He didn’t care.

That was why the ferryman couldn’t understand Enkrid.

Among the repetitive days, there were moments when confidence rose without reason.

And of course, he died.

He then went through twelve more days after that.

A sword that seemed stoppable, yet couldn’t be blocked—the knight’s sword was like that.

"You."

When the ninety-thirteenth day arrived, the knight drew his sword and frowned.

Then, looking at him, he spoke.

"What a waste."

Enkrid wasn't particularly happy at those words, but honestly, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t a bit proud.

Of course, right now, he felt nothing.

He was in a state of focus.

It had always been like this.

When facing the knight, he immersed himself, focusing.

The slightest distraction meant he gained nothing and his heart would split.

So, even though he felt like his mental energy was being worn down, he couldn’t afford to lose even a single bit of focus.

However, he would never forget that the dream that came as a reaper had acknowledged him.

The knight spoke of honor and the like.

Enkrid exhaled and prepared himself.

He felt as though he might block it, but it didn’t work.

Then something must be wrong.

Should he rise to the knight’s level right here and now?

No, that was impossible.

Even if there were fragments of 'Will,' that wouldn’t work.

Then, how?

Hmm.

The moment he heard the light Blade Echo, the knight's sword ruthlessly split his heart.

Thwack.

It was faster than before.

Blade Echo came out here?

"Ah."

It was truly like lightning.

At the same time, lightning struck Enkrid’s head.

The lightning that struck his head illuminated the path toward tomorrow, beyond today.