A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Chapter 521: Greed Pushes from Behind

Long, long ago, the knight Acker, standing at the brink of death, lanted the thought of his swordsmanship being lost.

‘More precisely, it’s not the swordsmanship itself, but what I realized through it—that’s what’s too valuable to disappear.’

He’d offered to teach many tis, but he’d never truly taught anyone. Like most geniuses, Acker was the sa.

There was no way he could find joy in teaching. But he still wanted to leave behind his techniques, including his swordsmanship. So, on the verge of death, he ca up with one thod.

To anyone else, it would have sounded like utter madness.

What if he could store his thoughts within the sword?

Acker was gifted at transferring his Will into weapons.

‘Will is the power of intention. Couldn't I embed my thoughts into that will?’

Acker’s engraved weapon was a gift he’d received when he first picked up a sword.

He had reforged it, hamring it anew—and that reforged weapon beca his engraved weapon.

It was the sword he had wielded his entire life, tailored specifically for the knight Acker. And because his specialty was the transference of Will, this feat beca possible. Luck played a role too, of course.

Sotis, luck is the most important factor.

To achieve this, Acker enlisted the help of a wizard—and in the end, he succeeded.

He embedded his thoughts and intentions into the engraved sword.

“There are four conditions.”

Acker set the conditions for the sword to awaken.

The first three were easy.

Soone who had learned his swordsmanship—it would never disappear completely, after all.

Soone who had, at the very least, awakened their Will—for without it, there would be no point.

And the wielder of the sword.

The final, fourth condition was hidden: soone who, even after becoming a knight, still yearned.

That fourth condition was demanding—but it was also essential.

After all, what was the point of teaching soone who had no desire to learn anything in the world conjured by the sword?

It was a necessary condition. But why was it the hardest?

Because becoming a knight ant one had already carved their own path with a blade.

The ti for desperately scrambling to learn sothing was long past.

And yet, it had to be soone who still desired to learn.

It was far from an easy condition.

Those who knew what Acker had done all said the sa thing—that it was aningless madness. But the knight Acker didn’t care.

Because he was satisfied with it.

That’s how the ego-sword Acker was born.

The legend would later beco twisted, and sothing like the cursed sword Tutor ca into being.

So foolish wizard stole the original wizard’s vision—the one who’d helped Acker—and created the cursed sword Tutor.

Tutor was a demonic blade that imprisoned a human soul, and it was the na of the cursed sword that had once forced a ntal death upon Enkrid.

In other words, Tutor was a counterfeit.

Over the long ages, Acker’s swordsmanship had also been lost to ti—but the fact that fragnts of it were embedded within the cursed sword Tutor was no re coincidence.

The knight Acker had created the ego-sword Acker, and died content.

That was the closing chapter of the story left behind by the knight Acker—but there was sothing beyond the story that still remained.

Regret. His regret remained as lingering thoughts embedded in the sword.

So then—was that thought still intact?

Could such regret-filled thoughts be stable?

Even a human soul trapped in a sword eventually beca a wraith.

Had he not beco a corrupted wraith like the cursed sword Tutor?

That was certainly a possibility.

The thought-Acker had remained trapped in the sword for a very long ti. Though he was but a thought, he retained intelligence—so he too could have gone mad. But he was, after all, a part of the original knight Acker.

Though he was regret incarnate, he had once been one of the three swords that protected the founding king of Naurillia.

His noble ntal strength had carried over to the thought-form, keeping it from being tainted.

Even if Acker’s final wish wasn’t noble in nature, it gave the lingering thought a clear sense of purpose.

Still, just because his mind hadn’t decayed didn’t an everything was satisfactory.

His current form was forged from regret.

You could call it the ghost of the past—not quite a person, and not sothing that truly existed—but even this lingering thought had its own desire.

‘I want to finish passing it on and ascend. I want to resolve this lingering regret, and then disappear.’

When the thought dispersed, it would vanish. But whether it was ascension or annihilation, all it wanted was to let go of what remained.

That was the wish of the thought-Acker.

So when soone appeared who had perfectly satisfied even the fourth condition, how could the ghost-Acker not rejoice?

Even if the man was a bit insane, it didn’t make the joy any less intense.

After all, the ti he’d waited was far too long.

That was why Acker spoke without being asked. It was his way of showing care, making sure the other party didn’t break down from overexertion or disillusionnt.

He wanted to tease him a little, but the man refused to fall for it—so what else could he do? The man was his savior—the one who would release his lingering regret.

“If you want to quit, just tell . Then go rest, and co back later.”

There was no need to die. If it was too much, it was fine to take a break. That was the difference between the cursed sword Tutor and the true sword Acker.

As the thought-Acker spoke, the man kneeling with one knee on the ground and his head bowed lifted his gaze.

“...My face is going to get sunburned.”

Acker replied. His blue eyes burned fiercely.

What had turned that man into this?

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

It was enough for Acker to know that his regret could be fulfilled.

Still, he worried.

‘Isn’t this too much?’

You want to keep fighting? That’s fine.

But Acker wouldn’t inflict psychological death on him, like the cursed sword Tutor did.

Even so, didn’t ntal strength wear down if you never took a break?

That’s why he thought it best to rest, then return and face him again.

“Hey, I’m telling you to give up. You can just co back.”

Acker said it again—but the man in front of him didn’t know how to give up.

“Not yet.”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Acker could guess what the missing words were.

Not yet. I’m still okay.

He’d been saying the sa thing over and over.

“You said it would only be for a month.”

Enkrid stabbed the ground with the tip of his sword, stood up, and leveled his blade.

“I’ve already fulfilled the fourth condition. That should give a little bit of extra ti, right?”

Acker’s regret was to find soone to inherit his techniques—not necessarily soone to whom he had to teach everything.

What mattered was sothing ntal. As long as the foundation was laid, the techniques could grow and evolve on their own.

That was what Acker believed—but Enkrid thought differently.

‘Only a month.’

Then he had to make full use of that ti.

He couldn’t fight for his life against Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, or Shinar.

Even if their skills surpassed his own, he couldn’t afford to go all out against them.

He couldn’t risk who might live or die.

So he kept a certain distance, masked his killing intent, and fought with restraint.

But he didn’t need to hold back against the knight Acker, conjured by the thought-form Acker.

Acker’s sword had already pierced through his body eight tis—and yet, he wasn’t dead.

There was pain, yes—but it was dull, like fighting after drinking a powerful numbing potion.

It didn’t hurt that much. At least not compared to the pain that ca with actual death.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Acker was worried that the pain would leave a scar on Enkrid’s mind—but to Enkrid, this was nothing.

He wasn’t actually dying, nor was he suffering the soul-crushing trauma that ca with the cursed sword Tutor.

Compared to repeating the sa day or being trapped in Tutor, this was far easier.

In short, the risk was small compared to what he could gain.

“If you push too hard, it’ll poison you instead.”

“I’ll handle it myself.”

“You really are unbearable.”

Acker said it again with a smile—but Enkrid no longer heard that phrase the sa way.

There was a subtle fondness behind it. He could feel it.

That affection eventually made Acker speak again.

“If I leave you alone, I really don’t think you’ll stop. So I’ll say it—your shouting is too loud.”

What was that supposed to an?

Enkrid silently pointed his sword at Acker again.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“You’re shouting too much. You charge in screaming ‘right side’ at the top of your lungs—who wouldn’t figure it out?”

Rem had described Enkrid’s Will embodint as heavy-handed.

Ragna called it chaotic.

Jaxon called it noisy.

“When did I ever?”

He spoke, lips moving with ease, but his posture and breathing remained unshaken.

More than anything, Enkrid was enjoying this mont—utterly and completely.

And why wouldn’t he?

He had beco a knight.

Setting aside the feeling of omnipotence, wasn't it only natural to want to unleash everything he had within him?

He was indulging in that desire to the fullest.

What would happen if you handed a water bottle to soone who hadn’t had a drop to drink in three days?

That’s why, even while questioning Acker’s words, Enkrid’s body moved instinctively.

“You crazy bastard, at least listen before you charge in.”

Boom!

Grass shredded, the earth split open.

Enkrid surged forward—twice as fast as the charge of the junior knight he once saw in Greenperl.

He gripped his sword tightly, letting his shoulder and elbow stay loose, slicing in rhythm with the montum of his advance.

Shweeek!

Even with knight-level reflexes, the blade seed to bend from sheer speed.

Acker raised his sword vertically to block.

His blade caught Enkrid’s, and several quick exchanges followed.

When Enkrid tried to overpower him and sweep Acker’s heel with a low kick, Acker pulled back first and aid the poml at the back of Enkrid’s hand.

If he just stayed put, he’d get hit—so should he pull back his hand? But... was that really necessary?

Couldn’t he just take a hit and deliver one in return?

Here, that might be perfectly fine.

The decision was made in an instant, and there was no hesitation in the execution.

“What’s the use of making fast decisions when I already tell you everything in advance!”

Acker rendered all those judgnts aningless, barking angrily as he leapt back and widened the distance.

Enkrid, who had been planning to sacrifice the back of his right hand in order to sock the ghost in the face with his left fist, paused.

Because Acker’s earlier words finally sank in.

“Will is intention. I get that your will is overflowing—but what do you think happens when you let it spill everywhere?

If your opponent is on your level, they won’t need precognition. They won’t need mind-reading.

Your intentions are painfully obvious.”

Then Acker added,

“That’s what I ant when I said you were shouting.”

“Oh.”

Acker nodded.

He was a thought-form born of a genius. Naturally, the living Acker hadn’t been the best at explaining things.

“Just do it like this—why can’t you?”

That’s how geniuses talked when they taught.

But the thought-form Acker had spent ti thinking about how to pass on what he had.

And that ti made all the difference—his explanations, by comparison, were excellent.

‘Compared to Rem, he’s a damn angel.’

Enkrid nodded. He blinked, recalling Acker’s words and chewing on them.

With the sword still held before him, he began to review.

He entered a state of focus, briefly forgetting the present.

He stood there, repeating the thoughts, organizing them.

“So you're saying I should rest first, and then co back? Huh? Is this bastard seriously insane?”

The thought-form felt genuinely dumbfounded.

Enkrid had him right in front of him—and now he was just ditating, eyes half-lidded in contemplation.

He stayed like that for quite so ti.

Eventually, Enkrid opened his eyes and spoke.

“I think I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“The aning behind what you said.”

Shouldn’t he have fully mastered it, given how much ti he’d just spent?

The answers had all been laid out.

But no.

“Again.”

Enkrid charged once more, and Acker had no choice but to et him with his sword.

They swung.

They moved.

They fought with all their strength, as if their lives were on the line.

And little by little, Enkrid began to grasp it—

Not just Will itself, but how to manage the massive lump of it inside him.

If it’s too heavy to wield—then what?

Break it up into smaller chunks and use it bit by bit?

Enkrid refused that approach.

Instead of splitting it, he chose another path.

Instinct told him that dividing it would only lead to his ruin.

Maybe it wasn’t the correct answer.

But if that’s where his heart led him, wasn’t that as close to truth as anything could be?

Life only allows you to walk one road.

Just because he repeated today didn’t an he could undo every choice.

Even if he went back to childhood and started anew—life’s choices still ca only once.

So all he could do was give his best to the road he chose.

There was no reason to regret the forks behind him.

That’s how Enkrid had always lived.

And that’s how he continued now.

Straightforward, unyielding, like the way he swung his blade.

The massive chunk of Will within him tried to burst in all directions.

He seized it, one by one, and brought it under control.

“You thick-headed brute.”

Acker said it sincerely.

But Enkrid didn’t change a thing.

How much ti had passed?

He didn’t know.

But Enkrid had crossed a threshold.

They had sparred more than a hundred tis now.

“What I’ve taught so far is just the basics. The ability to read future moves cos from insight—and you create that confusion in their mind by faking your intentions.”

“Is that it?”

He’d picked up the technique well enough. So he asked—and Acker’s smile vanished as he replied.

“It’s not over. But take a break! No compromises!”

Acker was firm.

Even in his eyes, Enkrid’s ntal strength was impressive—but no human could endure without eating, without sleeping.

That went for the mind as well.

No matter how solid your will, it still wore down.

Enkrid, realizing this too, nodded.

“Then again.”

He didn’t say ‘Let’s go again’, but the intent was clear.

“Yeah. Again.”

Acker cast Enkrid out of the world he’d created.

Out in the real world, not even an hour had likely passed...

Enkrid vanished—and barely any ti later, he returned to the ntal realm.

With black hair and blue fla-like eyes.

“You’re back already?”

How long had it been since he sent him out?

Enkrid stepped back into the conscious world. For soone who’d only entered once before, he seed to have grasped the process far too quickly.

“I rested enough.”

Acker didn’t express surprise or confusion. He just nodded.

You could only be surprised so many tis.

Now, he thought he understood what made Enkrid so formidable.

‘That overwhelming Will—that must’ve co from this monstrous ntal strength.’

Though he was only a thought-form, he had all the perception of the knight Acker.

“I used to like spiders.”

Out of nowhere, Acker said it.

Enkrid swung his sword.

You could talk while fighting, after all.

“You insane bastard, could you just wait till after I’m done listening?”

“Don’t waste ti. Just talk while we fight.”

Enkrid spoke, all while stealing Acker’s secrets—like how he never disrupted his breathing, no matter what stance he took.

His longing had rekindled.

Now, he ant to do everything he could.

His desire surged like never before, driving him onward.

Telling him to go further.

To never stop.

And Enkrid—he didn’t resist the shove that desire gave him.