A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Chapter 786

Chapter 786

Amidst his vast, scattered thoughts, Enkrid drew out one of his key strengths: an overwhelming quantity of Will.

'Uske.'

The na ant Will drawn from an unending well.

That, too, was a weapon.

A weapon not just anyone could possess.

Even Ragna, a genius said to possess talent bestowed by the heavens and who had set foot in a rarefied realm, did not have this.

'That's why I had the advantage in fights.'

It was sothing he'd felt whenever he sparred with Rem and the others—or rather, it was sothing he had now finally, clearly defined.

On top of this, Enkrid had learned stamina-based tactics from his previous encounters, such as his fight with that half-baked knight, Reavart, or whatever, after his match with Count Molsan.

Using his inexhaustible Will as a shield, he fought on.

"Why don't you use what you have?"

This was sothing Luagarne—who had taught him tactics—had said countless tis.

"Everything you can use can beco a weapon. Hone it. For example, you should even consider your own face as a weapon. Expand your notion of what a weapon can be. Don't keep narrowing your focus until you trap yourself in a tiny well."

Although she wasn't a knight, she was a frog wholly dedicated to tactics.

Her words resonated deeply.

That's how Enkrid understood them.

'Everything can be a weapon.'

So that's what he did.

Whether sparring with allies or fighting enemies, he always led with his inexhaustible Will.

'But Beelrog can't be defeated in a battle of endurance.'

Beelrog had lived for an incredibly long ti.

Naturally, he must possess an imnse amount of Will as well.

'Quantity alone isn't enough.'

Then what about winning with change?

He'd learned thods of accelerating Will from Yohan.

It was a technique that damaged the body, but if one's body was strong enough, the ability to withstand it increased as well.

'Endure.'

It was the collective term for techniques that endured pain.

If the origin of the technique 'Assimilation' were the fairies, then the roots of 'Endure' belonged to the monks.

Audin had said that the foundation of Endure was training the body.

What would happen if he used an Explosion of Pin Points while enduring it with a trained body and Endure?

'I'll win through changes in Will.'

It's about seizing the mont, not just relying on calculations.

And if he could exploit Beelrog's complacency, too—

'I'll stake everything on the very first strike.'

But how could he pull that off?

'Start with that oppressive aura of his.'

Beelrog gauges his opponent's skill through his intimidating presence. So, Enkrid had to shake that off in a single instant.

That was the prerequisite for making a split-second play for victory.

***

"And what are you supposed to be?"

It was the fifty-sixth 'today,' and since he'd co from killing Donafa, this was his third opponent.

The Swordsman, who favored a single-edged sword and quick, agile movents, gave his head a little tilt as he asked.

When Enkrid t his gaze, the Swordsman — suddenly looking like prey that had spotted a predator — imdiately put distance between them.

Ching!

He drew his sword as he stepped back, clear wariness in his eyes.

'Those damn eyes.'

Its pupils trembled just slightly.

Enkrid's blue eyes were like a tranquil lake.

But next to that lake, it was as if a volcano was erupting, roiling with heat.

If Rem or anyone else had seen him just now, they would've said, "There he goes, his eyes are going wild again."

Once he decided on a thod, he pressed forward with unwavering determination.

That was one of Enkrid's defining traits.

The Single-edged Sword was just an obstacle to be passed.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry."

With that, he charged forward.

"…Tch!"

The Swordsman wielding the single-edged sword held her breath and sprang into attack.

If she backed down now, she'd have no chance at victory.

She was well aware of her own strengths.

Fighting on the offense was her only option—not getting pinned on the defensive.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!

She scraped the tip of her single-edged sword against the ground as she dashed forward, sending sparks flying whenever the blade grazed one of the stones mixed in with the dirt floor. It looked as if she was dragging fire behind her as she rushed to et him.

The mont of collision seed inevitable.

She knew exactly what needed to be done at that crucial instant.

The Swordsman focused intently.

It seed like the two would collide any second now, but that wasn't what happened.

The Master of the Single-edged Sword was montarily thrown off.

'He stopped?'

Enkrid, who had been charging at full speed, ca to an abrupt halt.

He stopped so suddenly that it felt like you could see the illusion of his body shooting forward from the sheer force of the brake.

As Enkrid halted like that, a nosebleed started trickling from his nose.

Drops of blood spattered onto the ground in front of him.

Of course, that was hardly the part worth noticing.

The Single-edged Sword couldn't stop.

With every ounce of Will, both conscious and unconscious, she pressed forward to cut down her opponent.

If she stopped here, a re nosebleed wouldn't be the end for her.

Ka-kak!

She harnessed the friction from dragging her sparking blade along the ground to accelerate.

Using the earth as a makeshift sheath, she swung her blade, slicing through the air with a whistle that left sound trailing behind.

Enkrid, who had suddenly stopped before, now slipped down and stepped forward with undiminished speed, swinging his sword.

Both of them lunged at each other, swords flashing for the strike.

'How?'

Clang!

After her sword was struck, the Swordsman saw a sky-blue serpent climb up her arm and bite into her neck.

That serpent sliced through just below her collarbone and slashed her heart before vanishing.

A sar of black soot lingered in her vision.

It was right before she died.

The last thing she saw was Enkrid swinging his sword a couple more tis in the air.

Seeing that sohow gave her strength she didn't have before.

The Single-edged Sword spat out Black Mist and, with all her might, spoke.

"Kaak, did you… use for your training?"

From the wound the sky-blue serpent had sliced open, Black Mist surged out and splattered onto the ground in thick clumps.

Enkrid didn't even bother to nod, as if he'd heard it too many tis before.

He ignored her.

More than thirty tis out of over fifty of "today," she'd said this exact phrase.

The Single-edged Sword had a particular sensitivity to being ignored—it was a personality flaw.

He'd seen this woman more than fifty tis.

As ti went on, their weaknesses only beca clearer.

Enkrid, having ignored her words, simply replayed the brief exchange of blows from a mont ago in his mind.

'Control of Will.'

Enkrid's focus wasn't on the Explosion of Pin Points or the Explosion of Lines, but on control.

After that abrupt stop, he imdiately switched to Explosion of Points.

In a flash, his Will shifted speeds sharply.

Just like a horse needs to keep running to accelerate, yet Enkrid swung his sword at full speed from a complete standstill.

His arm trembled violently.

No matter how much you train your body, it's only natural that such actions would put a strain on you.

You can't cut down a thousand n without so much as taking a breath or feeling your arm ache.

Even after becoming a Knight by strengthening your Will and honing your body, you don't escape the limits of being human.

It wouldn't be any different for a Giant or a Fairy, either.

In any case.

"I learned sothing. Weird Eyes."

He'd tried it because he rembered how, back at the Border Guard, Weird Eyes had freely stopped and accelerated at will.

It left such a vivid impression that, at the ti, he even called Weird Eyes "Unyielding" instead.

Though, after giving him that na, he just got so used to it that he ended up going back to calling him Weird Eyes.

When Weird Eyes heard the na "Unyielding," he only snorted in response.

Like he was asking, "Why bring that up?"

Anyway.

"You can lure your opponent into dropping their guard and start off with a move they won't expect."

That was the conclusion he'd co to.

And the following sword swing—paired with Salamandra, the Fire Serpent—was his own attempt to imitate and combine various movents.

Of course, a blade can never truly turn into a whip.

It just ans that the sword's trajectory changed so quickly it created the illusion in his opponent's eyes.

In other words, Enkrid had accelerated twice in that mont:

Once when moving his body, and once more when swinging his sword.

'Explosion of Pin Points, twice.'

More precisely, it was containing the Explosion of Points within the Explosion of Lines.

No wonder his forearm ached.

Even after countless bouts of training with Audin, this was as far as he could go.

If not for that, his arm muscles would have torn apart.

Just as his thoughts were constant, so too were his steps; Enkrid kept moving forward.

The darkness seed to devour him, but for him, even the shadows of the cave had beco just another familiar road.

There was no fear.

No dread.

He simply knew what he had to do, and all he wanted was to hurry up, strengthen himself, and put his ideas to the test.

"…Oh, you're here? But what's with that look in your eyes? Why do you look so excited?"

Oara noticed and asked.

Enkrid walked over to her, sitting beside Oara by the campfire.

"Do I look that way?"

"Yeah, it's obvious to anyone."

"I'm doing well, and Roman…"

Enkrid replied automatically, saying what was expected.

Unless Oara heard this particular line, she wouldn't summon Beelrog.

Otherwise, the conversation would drag on.

Today, Enkrid spoke a bit faster than usual.

"Did you always talk like this? It sounds so forced and formal, like you're reciting your lines."

Even in death, Oara was a knight with keen intuition.

"Oh, is that so?"

Enkrid gave her a nod.

"Well, um, alright then. Be careful."

From her shadow, large wings spread wide.

Enkrid couldn't help but smile as he watched them.

That subtle smile might have provoked Beelrog.

–Are you the kind of fool who wants to die by a demon's hand?

It was as if he'd been summoned only to find a madman waiting for him—a question no different from that.

Usually, the summoner would be overwheld by his presence, but this one smiled first.

Beelrog had encountered many unusual and exceptional beings in his ti.

People who smiled right before death, and even a human who, though born mortal, managed to defeat him.

What's more, that had happened quite recently.

But among all the beings of intellect he'd ever t, the first impression left by the one standing before him was second to none.

He just laughs the mont he sees ?

Then he speaks.

"Go ahead."

Enkrid provoked him out of habit and tightened his grip on his sword.

'It all starts with breaking his intimidation.'

Enkrid decided how he would fight Beelrog within just three repeats of today.

Now, his thinking expanded naturally.

And there had been more than fifty cycles by now.

He had plenty of experience.

Instead of replying, Beelrog responded with raw intimidation.

Was it his way of saying he wouldn't even bother with soone who couldn't overco this?

That's actually pretty amusing.

And the thought of blocking that pressure makes it even more interesting.

Before Beelrog could unleash his intimidation, Enkrid had already shaped the Will of Rejection.

Can hard work ever catch up to genius?

He had spent a long ti searching for an answer to that question, and all the ti he'd accumulated had beco a solid castle wall inside him.

A tall and sturdy wall—Enkrid swore to protect what was behind it.

That was the oath he'd chosen to keep ever since becoming a knight.

A vision appeared before his eyes: a solid wall built from sky-colored bricks blocking the burning chains.

Thud.

The fla-wreathed chains bounced off and fell to the floor.

Should I call it the Wall of Rejection?

Or maybe it's armor forged by all the ti I've stacked up.

Or perhaps I should just say it endured because it never broke in the end.

-You keep laughing.

Even after his intimidation was blocked, Beelrog showed no sign of surprise.

Hearing his words, Enkrid realized he was smiling.

At this point, I really must be insane.

Looking at it rationally, there's absolutely nothing enjoyable about this.

But.

'Am I really a rational person?'

If I go by what Krais says, apparently I'm clever.

'Who cares.'

There's no ti or reason to waste on pointless worries like this.

From the mont I faced Beelrog, I fused the fractured thoughts I'd been preparing for Wave Blocker into one.

Everything would ride on a single swing.

'Focus on one spot.'

Total concentration.

I just need to commit to that one, solitary thought.

In a way, it might seem like a gamble.

You could say that it's only possible because "today" keeps repeating.

But that's not it.

Enkrid never let a single day slip by.

He always acted as if each day could be his last.

'Even if I die.'

He would die finishing what he set his mind to. He would die walking the path he chose for himself.

That's why, even if today never ca again, it didn't matter.

The Ferryman called it a curse, but for Enkrid, "today," which had beco his blessing, ant little now.

His resolve was always at its peak, and even now, that steely determination flowed into his sword.

Chirrrrrrrring.

The blade of Dawnforged scraped along the rim of the scabbard as it was drawn.

What was almost laughable was that even Beelrog's lips curled in a smirk.

If he just fought using the crushing pressure of his presence, it would be easy.

He had the ans to win without effort.

But he chose not to.

Instead of overwhelming force, he relied on his hands and feet.

It wasn't a rational decision, but an emotional one.

So, at this mont, Beelrog was no different from Enkrid.

Both of them kept their twisted smiles as they closed the distance between them.

Enkrid moved forward, scraping the ground with the soles of his boots, while Beelrog strode ahead with long steps.

His wings were spread wide, which was a stroke of luck for Enkrid.

Wings got in the way during sudden movents.

The mont the mbranous sections t resistance from the wind, it would be as if invisible shackles had locked around his ankles.

—Ah, no wonder I can never give up a fight.

Beelrog let out a burst of psychic energy, reveling in his excitent.

Enkrid couldn't help but agree.