Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 521 - Greed Pushes From Behind

Chapter 521 - Greed Pushes From Behind

Long ago, the knight Aker, in moments before his death, lamented that his swordsmanship would vanish along with him.

"It's not just the swordsmanship—it's the understanding I've gained that I can't bear to lose."

Though he had often tried to teach others, he never succeeded in properly passing on his skills.

Like many geniuses, Aker found no enjoyment in teaching.

Yet, he felt an undeniable desire to leave behind his techniques, including his swordsmanship.

Near the end of his life, a bold idea struck him—one that most would deem insane.

"What if I could store my thoughts in the sword?"

Aker's specialty was transferring Will into weapons.

"Will is strength of intent. Could I perhaps embed my thoughts into that intent?"

His engraved weapon was the first sword he had ever wielded, reforged into a weapon uniquely suited to him.

A tool he had used throughout his life, Aker's sword was ideal for his experiment due to its bond with his Will.

Of course, a bit of luck helped as well.

With the assistance of a magician, Aker succeeded. He embedded his thoughts and intent into the engraved weapon.

"There are four conditions."

Aker set conditions for awakening the sword's consciousness. The first three were simple:

The wielder must have learned Aker's swordsmanship.

They must have unlocked the power of Will.

They must be the sword's rightful owner.

The fourth and hidden condition was more challenging: even after becoming a knight, the wielder must yearn.

This yearning was both the most difficult and the most essential condition.

For what point was there in teaching someone unwilling to learn?

Yet knights, having already carved their own path with their sword, rarely retained such a desire.

Most had moved past their need to struggle for understanding.

Finding someone who met this condition would be nearly impossible.

But Aker didn't care what others thought of his endeavor, dismissing their remarks of futility.

To him, it was enough to have created what he envisioned.

And thus, the Ego Sword Aker was born.

Over time, this story became distorted, leading to the creation of the cursed sword "Tutor." A foolish magician stole the visions of the one who had aided Aker and used them to create a cursed sword that trapped human souls. This was the Tutor—a weapon that had inflicted mental destruction upon Enkrid.

While the Tutor was a flawed counterfeit, it wasn't mere coincidence that fragments of Aker's swordsmanship ended up within it. Such was the ripple effect of history.

The knight Aker was content to die, having created the Ego Sword that bore his legacy. Yet, beyond the story's end lay something else—regret. His lingering will, embodied in the sword, had not yet dissipated.

But could such a will remain intact?

Could regret-laden thoughts avoid corruption?

Trapped spirits, like those in the Tutor, often turned into vengeful wraiths.

For Aker's lingering thoughts, madness was a possibility after centuries confined within the sword. But they endured, untainted. The purity of the will he left behind, combined with the resolve that had once protected the founding king of Naurilia, safeguarded his sanity. His unyielding sense of purpose, though not lofty, kept his mind intact.

Even so, Aker's lingering will harbored a simple desire:

"Let me pass on what I must, fulfill my purpose, and ascend—whether into nothingness or some higher plane."

When someone at last fulfilled the fourth condition, the Ego Sword Aker rejoiced.

Even if the person seemed slightly unhinged, his joy was undiminished.

The waiting had been far too long.

This joy explained why Aker offered unprompted advice, ensuring his pupil didn't push themselves too hard.

Though he wished to tease, he refrained.

After all, this person was his savior—the one who would free him from his lingering regret.

"If you ever want to stop, just tell me. You can rest and come back later."

There was no need to die for this. Resting was an option, something the Tutor could never offer.

Kneeling with his head bowed, the man before Aker slowly raised his gaze.

"...You'll get burned under the sun like that."

Aker muttered, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. What had forged the man before him into such a figure? Aker neither knew nor cared. All that mattered was that his purpose would be fulfilled. Yet, a flicker of worry lingered in his thoughts.

"Isn't he overdoing it?"

Even if he continued to challenge endlessly, Aker would not grant him the mental death inflicted by the cursed Tutor. Still, Aker worried about the toll on the man's mind. Mental strength, after all, could erode without rest.

"Hey, give up for now. You can come back later."

But the man before him showed no signs of retreat.

"Not yet."

Though he didn't complete his sentence, Aker understood the unspoken words.

"It's only for a month."

Enkrid rose, steadying his sword as he spoke.

"Now that he cleared the fourth condition, I might have some time to spare."

Aker's lingering will didn't demand that all his knowledge be imparted. His focus was on fostering a mental foundation. Once the basics were set, the rest could be learned and developed independently.

But Enkrid thought differently.

"One month is all I have."

He intended to make the most of that time. Against opponents like Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, or Shinar, Enkrid couldn't risk everything.

Even if they surpassed him in skill, fighting with lethal intent was too dangerous—someone might die.

But sparring with the Ego Sword Aker carried no such risks.

Already, Aker's blade had pierced him eight times, yet he hadn't perished. The pain was dulled, as if numbed by medicine. Compared to the agony of death, it was manageable.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

Aker worried that the repeated injuries might scar Enkrid's mind. But to Enkrid, this was nothing. It wasn't actual death, nor did it leave lasting mental wounds.

"Overexertion can be harmful."

"I'll handle it."

"You're insufferable."

Though Aker grumbled, his complaints carried a hint of affection.

This begrudging fondness finally prompted him to speak again.

"If I leave you alone, you'll never stop, so here's a tip: you're making too much noise."

What did that mean? Enkrid silently raised his sword toward Aker once more.

"You're yelling too much. Who wouldn't know when you keep screaming 'Right!' and charging in like that?"

Rem described Enkrid's way of manifesting Will as bluntness. Ragna called it chaos. Jaxen, noise.

"When did I ever?"

Though he spoke, his posture and breathing remained steady. More than anything, Enkrid was reveling in this moment. Why wouldn't he? He had become a knight.

Beyond the sense of omnipotence, it was natural to want to pour out everything he had.

That desire was being unleashed to its fullest.

What would happen if you handed a water bottle to someone who hadn't had a single drop in three days?

So even as he questioned Aker's remarks, his body moved naturally.

"You crazy bastard, listen before you charge in."

Bang!

Grass shattered, and the ground caved in. Enkrid surged forward, faster than the squire's charge he had seen back in Green Pearl. He tightened his grip on his sword, his shoulders and elbows loose, adjusting to the forward momentum as he swung his blade.

Swoosh!

To eyes of knight-level perception, his blade seemed to bend. Aker raised his sword vertically to block it. Their swords clashed, and several more exchanges followed.

When Enkrid tried to overpower Aker's sword and kick at his heel, Aker pulled back his leg and attempted to jab Enkrid's hand with his pommel.

If he stayed still, he'd get hit. Should he withdraw his hand? Or could he take one blow and land one himself? Here, he could afford that. His judgment was instantaneous, his actions without hesitation.

"What good is quick judgment when you keep shouting everything in advance?"

Aker neutralized all of Enkrid's maneuvers, he leaped backward to create distance.

Enkrid halted his fist, which had been aimed to leave a pretty bruise on the wraith's face.

Only now did Aker's words truly sink in.

"Will is intent. Sure, it's overflowing, but what happens if you scatter it carelessly? If your opponent is on a similar level, they wouldn't even need foresight. They don't need telepathy when your intent is so blatantly obvious."

Then Aker continued.

"Is that what you meant when you said I'm yelling?"

"Yes."

Aker nodded.

He was a mental construct of a genius.

Naturally, Aker in life hadn't been the best at explaining things.

"Just do it like this. Why wouldn't it work?"

That was how geniuses often taught. However, the construct Aker had time to reflect on how to pass on what he knew.

It made his explanations relatively decent.

"Compared to Rem, he's a saint."

Enkrid nodded, blinking as he replayed and chewed over Aker's words.

Standing still, he began analyzing, reorganizing his thoughts.

He focused so intensely that he temporarily forgot the current situation.

"You're seriously going to stand there and think this through? Hey, you... Are you insane?"

The construct was baffled.

In the middle of combat, Enkrid closed his eyes halfway in contemplation.

He remained like that for quite some time.

Eventually, when Enkrid reopened his eyes, he spoke.

"I think I get it."

"What exactly?"

"The meaning of what you said."

After taking so much time, shouldn't he have understood everything?

Aker had practically spelled it all out.

But no.

"Again."

Enkrid charged once more, forcing Aker to pick up his sword to face him.

They exchanged blows, fighting with their full strength.

During the process, Enkrid gradually learned how to handle his immense Will, or more accurately, how to manage the colossal force he possessed.

If it's too heavy to wield, what should one do?

Should he use it piece by piece?

Enkrid didn't.

Instead of breaking it down, he chose another path.

Instinctively, he knew that fragmenting it would ruin him.

This might not be the right answer, but wasn't the right path the one your heart believed in?

Life was a journey of choosing one road and walking it. Repeating the day didn't mean you could reverse every decision.

Even if he could return to his childhood and start anew, life's choices would remain singular.

So all that mattered was giving his best to the chosen path. There was no point in regretting past crossroads.

That's how Enkrid had lived, and that's how he lived now.

Swinging his sword steadily, stubbornly.

The massive chunk of Will inside him stretched wildly, but he controlled it, piece by piece.

"You reckless idiot."

Aker meant it sincerely, but Enkrid carried on.

How much time passed?

He didn't know.

Eventually, he felt he had broken through a wall.

By the time they had sparred over a hundred times.

"What I've taught you is the basics. Predicting foresight is about insight. By showing false intent, you plant complexity in the opponent's mind."

"Is that it?"

He had roughly grasped the knack, so he asked.

Aker wiped away his smile and replied.

"It's not over, but go rest! No compromises!"

Aker was firm.

Even he could see that while Enkrid's mental strength was exceptional, no one could endure without eating or sleeping.

The mind was no exception.

No matter how strong it was, wear and tear were inevitable.

Recognizing the need for rest, Enkrid nodded.

"Then again."

The word "rest" was missing, but the intent was clear.

"Yeah, again."

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Aker expelled him from the created world.

Outside, perhaps not even an hour had passed... Yet Enkrid returned to the mental world soon after.

His black hair and flame-blue eyes wide open.

"Why are you back already?"

How much time could have passed?

Yet here he was again, as if he had quickly mastered the technique.

"I've rested enough."

Instead of being shocked or flustered, Aker nodded.

One can only be surprised so many times.

He was beginning to understand Enkrid's strength.

"That enormous chunk must've been given because of that willpower."

Though a construct, Aker had the experience of a knight and a discerning eye.

"Aker liked spiders."

At the sudden comment, Enkrid swung his sword.

Talking and fighting weren't mutually exclusive.

"You crazy bastard, listen before charging."

"Time's precious. Fight and talk."

Enkrid spoke as he subtly picked up on how Aker maintained perfect posture and unbroken breathing in any stance.

His desire burned anew, and he resolved to take everything he could.

The hunger to grow surged, spurring him onward.

Go further.

Don't stop.

And Enkrid didn't resist that hunger.

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