A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Chapter 343

‘Am I falling behind?’

Shinar felt a tinge of urgency.

Enkrid’s growth had made her feel that way.

Was victory or defeat important? No, not really. The real problem was that if she got pushed back like this, she wouldn’t be able to provide the man in front of her with the thrill he deserved.

‘A life of battle.’

What is the greatest gift for one who strides toward knighthood?

What sets his heart pounding the most?

It certainly wasn’t breathtaking beauty. That much was clear. re physical attraction wouldn’t be enough to shake him.

Then, what?

‘The sword.’

Sothing interchangeable with combat, skill, and strength.

Naturally, Shinar had her own hidden trump card. She just hadn’t expected to play it here.

Fairies grow by absorbing the energy of the forest, and if they train to a certain extent, they can cultivate a tree of energy within their bodies.

Ordinarily, this process takes centuries, gradually accumulating over ti. Such was the natural order of the fairy race.

But Shinar was not an ordinary fairy.

She had a gift.

A talent for directly absorbing and cultivating energy.

To store it within her body and unleash it in a decisive mont.

A hidden card, a secret move.

Shinar revealed her ace, simply because she wanted to see the astonished look on Enkrid’s face and the exhilaration of a man caught in the thrill of battle.

Reason?

Such things didn’t matter.

‘Ah, this is fun.’

This was a first for her.

Her heart pounded. A rush of exhilaration surged through her. The mont she perceived the shift in her opponent’s emotions, what she felt was—

Enjoynt.

Excitent.

It sent a shiver down her skin.

‘Are you having fun?’

She asked inwardly. Enkrid’s entire body reacted. Watching it unfold filled her with boundless delight.

Control your emotions.

It was sothing she had been told since the mont she beca aware of the world.

Fairies, by nature, could sense the unfiltered emotions of others, making them highly susceptible to being swayed.

The curse of heightened sensitivity.

They knew it was a problem, so they dealt with it.

Fairies had long since identified this issue and devised a solution.

Thus, they practiced emotional discipline.

They learned to regulate and control their hearts.

To remain composed, no matter the circumstances.

In so ways, it was akin to the heart of a beast.

By mastering their minds, their bodies, and ultimately their emotions, they attained a state of balance. Shinar had undergone that very process, and that was why she stood here today.

For Frokk to leave his domain, his condition was that he must not lose himself to the re ntion of the word "heart."

For fairies, the requirent was the ability to control both body and mind.

The clash of swords, the sweat dripping down. She saw Enkrid's face, sweat rolling off him, hitting the ground.

Black hair, blue eyes, curving gently in a crescent shape.

His eyes seed to radiate light as if they contained a glow within.

It was just past noon.

The spring sun shone brightly, casting long shadows and creating a soft contrast on the left side of his face.

Watching him like this, sothing about the scenery, the entire composition of the mont, exuded a strange kind of energy.

And with her heightened senses, Shinar saw it all, slled it all, and felt it all.

Fairies were born with extraordinary beauty.

Perfect symtry in their features—eyes, eyebrows, and the straight bridge of the nose that bisected their faces—often drove those who looked upon them into a lovestruck daze.

The phrase ‘beauty beyond human comprehension’ existed for a reason.

Fairies were beings that surpassed human aesthetics.

Of course, there were exceptions, but most fairies looked exactly as one would expect.

Having been born a fairy, Shinar had seen countless such beings.

‘If we’re just talking about looks, I wouldn’t be able to tell.’

But the way this man carried himself—the sheer vitality he radiated—dominated his surroundings. She had felt it before, ti and again, but her stance toward him now was different from before.

It wasn’t a resolution. It wasn’t determination.

It was simply the natural course of things.

This ti, she would let herself wield her sword not with control, but with emotion.

And so she did.

***

Instinct or intuition.

A foreboding sensation brushed against the nape of his neck. Enkrid shuddered as a chill ran through him, making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

It felt as though death had crept up beside him, whispering in his ear.

His vision blurred, his sense of hearing dulled, and everything around him smudged into the realm of raw intuition.

A perspective as if he were looking down at his own body from above opened up before him.

Enkrid saw it—another blade aid at his back.

The mont he saw and felt it, he moved.

Twisting his body to the side, he pivoted on his right foot and unsheathed his gladius with his left hand.

As he drew, he twisted his wrist, intercepting the incoming strike with the flat of his blade.

Thud.

It wasn’t a heavy impact, but he felt the force of a thrust.

And in that mont, Shinar vanished from sight.

Another shiver ran down his spine.

His thoughts accelerated—he knew what he had to do. No, he felt it.

It was ti to pull out an answer rooted in pure instinct.

He threw his gladius in the direction that sent a shiver of unease through him.

Whoosh.

As the blade shot forward in a straight line, he drew Flicker.

Ting!

Without a mont’s pause to steady his breath, he traced a large arc with Flicker. It wasn’t a blade ant for cutting—it was a thrusting weapon. It wouldn’t deliver a clean slash, but it would serve as an unexpected strike.

And it did.

Shinar wasn’t exactly caught off guard, but she acknowledged Enkrid’s move as one full of ingenuity.

She deflected the attack by pressing her blade against his.

Clang!

Sparks flew as Flicker clashed against Nied.

Enkrid released Flicker from his grip.

Then, gripping his silver longsword with both hands—

He inhaled.

A short breath to steady himself.

Sharpening his senses to the extre, he activated One-Point Focus.

He didn’t know how, but there was a sword in front of him—and another at his back.

And both were real, tangible blades.

A trick from Will?

Didn’t seem like it. Didn’t feel like it.

Enkrid swung his sword down at the Shinar before him.

Shinar raised her blade to block.

But then—

Her entire body blurred, like a mirage.

And from both sides, Nied thrust toward him.

High-speed movent?

No. Each one was real.

A spell? A magic-infused technique?

No ti to think.

As soon as he brought his sword down, Enkrid lunged forward and rolled.

Slash!

Two clean lines were etched into the ground where he had just stood.

Shinar no longer swung her blade.

Instead, she stood still, her breath quiet and steady.

And she remained unmoving. Her gaze fixed on Enkrid, who hadn’t yet relaxed his stance.

"What did you just do?"

Enkrid asked, kneeling on one knee after rolling out of the attack’s trajectory.

The blade in his hand glinted in the sunlight.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He hadn’t let his guard down. Even in that posture, the sheer intensity of his stance and blade was threatening.

But the fairy’s vision and insight were far beyond that of an ordinary being.

"Are you proposing to here?"

…What the hell was she talking about?

At that mont, Enkrid beca aware that he was kneeling on one knee.

“I’m saying I can still fight.”

“Is that so?”

The fairy responded without a hint of amusent.

At so point, more onlookers had gathered.

Among them were visitors who had co specifically to test their blades against Enkrid, along with Rem, Audin, and Ragna. Naturally, Dunbakel and Teresa had also been drawn in.

What had caught the attention of the Mad Platoon?

It was the Shingi—the divine technique—that Shinar had just demonstrated.

Her skill and artistry were beyond ordinary.

Even Ragna, who had seen countless battles, found it to be sothing entirely different.

Do all fairies fight like that?

He had wandered for so ti and encountered many fairy swordsn.

The most morable one had been a dual-blade wielder who only ever aid for vital points.

But Shinar—she was several tis more dangerous than that fairy.

She had been right in front of Enkrid, yet sohow, her blade had erged behind him.

How was that possible?

Was it due to sheer precision and subtlety?

No, that was rely a characteristic of fairy swordsmanship.

She had clearly swung her sword through empty air—yet a strike had co at Enkrid’s back.

Rem’s eyes narrowed.

What did that fairy just do?

Audin watched with an amused expression.

“Magic?”

Dunbakel muttered to himself.

“No.”

Teresa answered instead. She had fought many magic users. Her instincts told her this was sothing else.

Shinar heard their comnts but let them drift away as she focused on Enkrid.

A faint smile unknowingly ford on her lips.

Even Enkrid had never seen a fairy smile like that before.

And with that slight smile, she finally spoke.

“Are you enjoying this?”

A simple question.

Sunlight, dust, the warmth in the air.

As he took it all in, Enkrid nodded.

She was asking about his enjoynt. Naturally, he was.

It was a technique he had never encountered before. He couldn’t even begin to understand it.

The re thought of analyzing and unraveling its chanics sent a thrilling sensation through his body.

The hairs on his arms still stood on end.

Enkrid rose to his feet.

“More than anything.”

“Then, dueling must be the most fun.”

The statent was abrupt—so much so that Enkrid had no imdiate response.

The most fun?

The conversation continued.

As soon as Shinar finished speaking, a brief silence followed as everyone took a mont to process her words.

After a short but sufficient pause—

A dull thud echoed from behind the fairy.

Thud.

The sound was so natural that it drew everyone’s attention.

It had co from behind Enkrid.

Audin stood with his fist extended in a short strike.

“Brother Captain, have you started getting the hang of close-range bursts? Once you get used to it, you’ll find a whole new kind of fun. There’s nothing in life more enjoyable than learning and improving.”

Huh?

Enkrid’s thoughts stalled for a mont.

What was he talking about all of a sudden?

And Audin wasn’t finished.

Beside him, Ragna swung his sword.

Swish. Swish.

“A fast and heavy blade.”

A sword imbued with Will.

That wasn’t sothing one could simply learn by being taught.

In the past, he might not have known that—but now, he did.

A knight couldn’t get by on re imitation. They had to make a skill their own.

The fact that he was walking that path made this truth all the more apparent.

“You may not be able to learn it, but can you say you gain nothing from dueling?”

Ragna spoke as if reading his mind. He stopped his blade and locked eyes with Enkrid.

His determination was clear, as unyielding as the tempered steel of his sword.

Was this really the ti to be stirring up fighting spirit?

Enkrid hesitated, lost in thought.

As he stared, a third figure stepped forward.

“Look, I picked this up watching so crazy old man once. You might want to learn it too.”

Rem began wrapping a rope around his axe.

What are they even doing?

Were they trying to emphasize that dueling them was just as enjoyable?

“Then, was your fight against the wandering Teresa not fun?”

Teresa asked.

Dunbakel rotated her shoulders as if ready to pounce at any mont.

It felt as if they were all silently protesting sothing.

Enkrid couldn’t help but smirk.

What was there to say?

Just because Shinar had given him a shiver of excitent, did that an his duels with them had lost their appeal?

It was said that if a hundred people gathered, there would be a hundred different shades of experience.

For Enkrid, simply learning and experiencing sothing new was enough to thrill him.

So there was nothing unpleasant about their reaction.

Enkrid laughed.

And that was when—

“What’s this? Do I need to get in line just to talk to Captain Enki?”

There were plenty of spectators watching the duels—rcenaries, soldiers, those who fancied themselves skilled with the sword.

Among them were Bell and Venzance.

They turned toward the voice that had spoken.

It was a familiar one.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?”

His well-grood beard and hair bore the touch of a professional.

His attire was noticeably different from that of the border guards.

Leaning on a short staff, the man stepped forward from among the soldiers.

Marcus Baisar, the forr lord of the fortress.

The way he lifted his cane made him seem like a leisurely neighbor dropping by for a visit, but the guards behind him exuded a formidable presence.

Dust clung to their shoulders, evidence that they hadn’t even paused to wash up after their journey.

At Marcus’s greeting, Enkrid saluted.

“No tea for your guest? Or is it customary to leave visitors standing outside?”

Marcus smirked.

Enkrid couldn’t help but think that asking the lord for tea would be more appropriate.

But he couldn’t exactly turn him away.

Judging by his appearance, he had co straight here without even visiting the lord of the city.

“You’re really not giving any tea?”

Marcus pressed again.

Enkrid nodded.

It was ti to end the duel.

No one seed particularly disappointed. Enkrid himself needed ti to reflect on what he had just seen from Shinar.

A strike that was tangible and perceivable yet physically impossible.

How was such a thing possible? What was the principle behind it?

He needed to contemplate and dissect it.

“What a buzzkill.”

Rem sumd up the situation in a single sentence.

Shinar, expressionless, turned and muttered.

“A nuisance, nothing more.”

Whether she truly ant it was hard to tell from her face.

But she withdrew without protest.

As Marcus smiled, Enkrid thought—

What a perfect mont to barge in.

“Let’s go.”

There was no way the barracks had any tea.

Enkrid headed for the ss hall instead.