A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Chapter 679: Enkrid Knows How to Lose

“Why am I in such a bad mood?”

Rem muttered while watching the departing group.

Next to him, Audin let out a soft laugh and said,

“Must’ve been so sort of realization.”

He was referring to Ragna’s condition.

“Or maybe he’s just gone nuts?”

“That’s possible too.”

Rem glanced at Audin.

Last night, before Enkrid’s departure, Rem had seen Enkrid spar with Audin.

To be exact, it was Enkrid who suddenly appeared and made the request.

“I’d like to have a go before I leave.”

Asking for a match even though he was leaving tomorrow?

To Enkrid, that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Rem had watched without concern—until Enkrid lost.

And it wasn’t just a loss—he got thoroughly beaten.

In the middle of the match, Audin had asked,

“Did you learn a lot?”

“A little.”

To Rem, Enkrid was the kind of man who would gladly die if it ant he could learn one more sword technique before his last breath.

It was a thought that ca to him by chance, but it was the right one.

Enkrid had co this far by dying and repeating the sa day over and over, clawing his way forward.

“You said block with the wave and strike with the light?”

“Yeah.”

“In doing so, you’ll be revealing your signature techniques completely.”

“Seems that way.”

“From a strategy standpoint, that’s foolish. But I assu you know that doesn’t make it wrong.”

Rem agreed with that statent, though he didn’t join the conversation.

The fanatical bear beastkin said everything that needed saying.

With bruised blue skin around his eyes, Enkrid simply nodded.

If he’d taken the hit a little worse, his eyeball might have ruptured—but his body was like armored steel.

When he swung his sword, he hadn’t yet reached the highest tier within his own system of swordsmanship, but when he got hit, he had.

He had instinctively raised his Will and defended his body.

How could he only get that part right?

‘Because he’s been hit so many damn tis.’

That was Rem’s conclusion.

He had taken so many beatings that, at least when it ca to taking hits, his body instinctively used Will to protect itself.

So if he could just swing his sword the sa way...

To Rem, Audin, Jaxon, and Ragna, it was strange that he couldn’t do it.

If you could open a door with your left hand, why not your right?

But sohow, he couldn’t.

It would’ve been infuriating to see soone who had already beco a knight and surpassed you at monts still growing at a snail’s pace.

But truthfully, it wasn’t that frustrating.

Because they had long since acknowledged he was on a different path.

“He’ll co back stronger.”

Rem cast aside his thoughts and spoke.

Slow—but steady.

That was the kind of person Enkrid was.

“Yes, I know.”

Audin nodded.

“And that damn directionless bastard might be getting ready to die, so maybe we should start preparing funeral prayers.”

Rem said it half-joking, half-malicious—but his instincts were frighteningly sharp.

Ragna had changed because he realized he was sick.

“There’s no way, right?”

Audin knew of Ragna’s talent.

Though he himself had been called the most gifted among the apostles of war, even he had to admit Ragna had sothing different.

The way he reached insight through a mont of focused concentration—it was impossible to imitate.

Not sothing to be envious of, though.

Audin knew himself well.

He also knew the importance of cherishing what he had.

Since he only knew how to move forward one step at a ti, that’s what he’d keep doing.

And his captain, who had accepted his teachings, would do the sa.

***

Enkrid and his group left the city, heading in a general direction.

The weather was incredibly good from day one.

Which made sense.

North of the border guard, when spring cos, the rainfall drops significantly.

In short, it rarely rained.

Storms might co in sumr, but for now it was a string of warm, peaceful days.

At most, there might be a light drizzle, but a downpour was rare.

So say the longer spring’s dryness lasts, the stronger the sumr storms get—but that was sothing to find out when the ti ca.

“If we push the horses and head up to the right wing of the Pen-Hanil Mountains—ah, you lot don’t call it that. We call that part the wing. If we follow that path, we can cross over.”

The only fuss at departure had been stopping Ragna, who insisted on leading the way.

“If you take the lead, we’ll be circling the continent by tomorrow.”

Enkrid reminded Ragna of reality.

“Hey, was it Sena? Talk him down.”

Grida nudged Anne with an elbow.

“It’s Anne. I’m so tired of saying my na. That’s the fifth ti already.”

“Ah, sorry. I’ll just call you Freckles.”

“That’s worse.”

Anne gently took Grida’s comnt in stride and pulled Ragna by the arm.

“At least match your pace to mine. I’m not that used to this.”

Though judging by her horseback riding, she looked beyond used to it—she looked skilled.

But Ragna didn’t argue.

“This isn’t the ti to worry over small things.”

This was right after they left the city.

Magrun then kicked his horse forward.

“Hyah, hyah! Hyat!”

Odinkar and Grida matched speed, and Enkrid followed suit.

Naturally, Ragna and Anne trailed behind them.

They had no urgent business, but they began a forced march.

“Why waste ti on the road? We can’t even last ten days on horseback anyway. Until then, we run. That’s the only way.”

So said Magrun.

They were people who despised wasting ti on the road.

They would rather run all day and swing their swords one more ti at night.

Enkrid couldn’t have asked for better company.

To Anne, though, it was pure hell.

“Are you all insane?”

Even so, Anne kept up.

She had a reason—to identify the nature of the illness as soon as possible.

More precisely, to kill the illness.

That was the sort of resolve she had.

“I made a promise to myself. If this kind of disease is still tornting or killing anyone, I’ll make sure I’m there.”

It was a brief thought she shared with Ragna.

Enkrid heard it too.

And so the days passed—riding by day, resting at night.

During that ti, Enkrid would sink into himself and organize his thoughts.

He found his mind sharpened during these stretches where he could move without distraction.

He left Ragna in Anne’s care.

Magrun handled navigation.

Grida took care of camp setup.

So he put all trivial thoughts aside.

All that filled his head now were the things Audin had shown him.

He hadn’t sparred before leaving just for the hell of it.

Enkrid had sensed sothing lacking in himself on an instinctual level—and confird it through Audin.

‘Everyone’s figured out how to counter my specialty too easily.’

It was just a sparring match, but if it kept happening, it would carry over into real combat.

A winnable fight could beco a loss.

Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon had all broken through his wave-blocking defense.

Grida had dismantled his calculations.

Odinkar’s sword was beginning to show similar trends.

Even in his conversations with Magrun, he felt it.

“You’re kinda predictable.”

That’s what Grida had said once.

Her observational skills were sothing else.

If Lua Gharne had been here, would she have said sothing similar?

Putting skill aside, that Frokk’s insight was extraordinary.

Lua Gharne had left for so special training with Teresa and Shinar, so Enkrid hadn’t seen her before departure.

He thought.

And thought again.

Then returned to that final sparring mont with Audin.

Audin, clad in sacred armor, often feigned openings and plugged them himself.

It wasn’t because he lacked technique.

‘It’s deception.’

He deliberately showed gaps and left weaknesses exposed.

Even that deception, he wielded like a technique.

The mont soone thought Audin was slow, they would never be able to beat him.

He was stronger, more calculating, and more skilled than anyone in the squad—but he never hesitated to deceive.

If your specialty was excellent, did that an you had to fight only with that?

What about Sir Jamal of the Azpen Royal Knights?

‘He saved his trump card for later.’

It didn’t an you had to make deception your top priority.

It ant you had to know how to use everything you had.

Oara once told him he was too ssy, juggling too much.

Told him to throw things away.

Was it greed that made him combine it all instead?

Had he taken the wrong path?

Enkrid was human.

Sotis anxiety crept over him.

A sharp tingle raced across his skin.

An unpleasant premonition made his heart race.

But only for a mont.

If he had let that fear stop him, he would’ve stayed in “the best today” long ago.

What do you do when you’re afraid?

You swing your sword.

That’s what experience had taught him.

Besides, there wasn’t much else he could do.

That’s why he organized his thoughts by day and practiced his sword by night.

To outsiders, it might’ve looked dull and repetitive.

But—

“Today’s training will save your life tomorrow.”

That was Ragna, who’d gone from slacker to the embodint of diligence.

Naturally, everyone just stared at him like he’d lost it.

“I know.”

Only Enkrid responded, calmly.

And kept swinging his sword.

Magrun watched him and couldn’t help but be amazed.

‘Is he planning to die tomorrow?’

He might be.

That’s how curses like this work.

They start young and slowly kill you.

In his case, it had progressed faster than usual.

Which was why he had things he wanted to leave behind.

His entire life had been for that purpose.

To leave his mark on Zaun.

That was the life of Magrun Zaun.

But even he had never followed such a brutal schedule.

And Enkrid had been like this since they left the city.

He spent each dense, demanding day the sa way.

Doing things that even Magrun couldn’t bring himself to attempt.

There was no way it wasn’t impressive.

“Magrun, got ti for a round?”

That evening, Enkrid even challenged him to a spar.

He knew he couldn’t win by skill.

He’d never get over that wall, even if he fought to the death.

Rem was impressive too, but in terms of sparring—Enkrid was even more relentless.

Magrun, though his words were rough, was a man quick to acknowledge others.

That was one of his strengths.

Because of it, he had a sharp eye for technique and could learn faster than others.

That’s why he was said to have natural talent for mastery.

‘But this guy’s slow.’

Magrun had seen countless geniuses.

Growing up in Zaun, how could he not?

But none of them had the dull talent of the man in front of him.

And yet, Enkrid was the most remarkable.

That was how Magrun saw it.

“Anyti.”

Clang!

Their blades clashed, and the spar began.

After a brief exchange, Magrun won.

And this was the first reason why he respected Enkrid so deeply.

“I lost.”

Enkrid knew how to lose.

“Yeah.”

Magrun nodded.

Then Enkrid asked,

“You gonna tell what you saw?”

“There are a few things.”

Magrun calmly relayed what he had seen and sensed.

Enkrid asked questions, repeated points, and nodded.

Yes, forget everything else—this was undeniable.

To know how to lose, and to accept it with this attitude—no skill or strength could compare.

‘He opens up fully, lays himself bare.’

He asked for help to learn, not with groveling or flattery—but with sincerity.

He listened, asked, and requested with genuine intent.

Could soone weaker really have this kind of exchange?

It wasn’t easy.

Truly, it wasn’t.

Not even in Zaun.

Normally, the strong pulled up the weak.

In a place like Zaun, where competition was everything, that was even more emphasized.

But Enkrid broke that mold.

He knew how to lose.

He opened his ears, admitted his weaknesses, and accepted what he lacked.

How could that not be impressive?

Magrun wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Odinkar did too.

Grida didn’t even need to say it.

Ragna even went out of his way to push Enkrid harder.

“If you start half-assing things to hide your technique, it ends there. Don’t you know that? If you don’t, then do it again. Again!”

Ragna was more fired up than ever.

If Shinar had seen it, she would’ve called it igniculus—the mont sparks ignite.

Enkrid never wasted a mont during the journey.

Even while riding, he trained.

This path had no safety posts or garrisons, so monsters and beasts made perfect sparring partners and sacrifices.

Watching others fight was a lesson.

Reflecting on what he learned by fighting himself [N O V E L I G H T] was even better.

As the horseback journey neared its end—

Technique, skill, physical ability, tactical thinking, strategic planning, cognition, judgnt, decisiveness, boldness—

Enkrid understood that all of it had to be in harmony to have aning.

“They must all co together.”

What did he need to do to achieve that?

Dozens of images and mories flashed through his mind.

His thoughts opened up like a gateway.

The process of recalling answers from past mories condensed—and he reached the conclusion in a flash.

“The hands that roast jerky.”

In the corners of his mory library, sothing shy rose up.

From that shy mory ca Aitri’s hamring.

Frokk’s steady hands beside him.

The giant who had beco a refined rchant.

The shopkeeper who made marmalade.

The cobbler sewing shoes—

All of them surfaced at once.