A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 121

Chapter 121: Let’s Recover First

Ting.

Enkrid flicked the sword blade with his finger, producing a clear sound. As it caught the light, a faint blue hue shimmered. It was made of unique metal.

‘It’s not Valerian steel, though.’

It was the sword he took after killing Mitch Hurrier. Just by looking at it, anyone could tell it was a high-grade, expensive sword. There was no way he would just leave it behind.

Anyway, maybe Kraiss would know what it was made of. Enkrid turned his head to the side. Three steps away, Kraiss sat, staring at him with wide, curious eyes.

He seemed to have many questions.

Enkrid sighed and asked.

“What?”

Before asking about the metal, he had to deal with that strange look in Kraiss’s eyes.

“It’s fascinating.”

“What is?”

“Your left hand.”

As Kraiss spoke, his gaze flicked down to Enkrid’s left hand. Had he always used his left hand that well? It didn’t seem like it. After all, they’d been together for more than just a day or two.

The way he was using his left hand now was incredible. Was this what it meant to be a genius? Kraiss didn’t know much about swordsmanship or martial arts, but—

‘Hasn’t he always been just average?’

Aside from his odd behavior, Enkrid’s skills had always seemed relatively average.

When he saved Kraiss back then—risking his own life to save someone else—Kraiss had thought to himself, Who is this kind of person?

‘Risking your life to save someone else… that doesn’t make sense.’

Just because they were in the same squad? They had known each other for less than a week at that point. There was a huge difference between Enkrid’s skills back then and now.

The enemy commander who ambushed them had been no ordinary fighter. And yet Enkrid, using only his left hand, managed to fend him off.

“I’ve been training steadily.”

Enkrid responded casually. Kraiss nodded as if that explanation was sufficient, but then asked again.

“And killing that commander who ambushed us?”

Was it really just about his left hand? Or was there something more to that battle?

The intensity? The near-death experience? It was all mixed into that moment. One wrong move, and Enkrid would have died.

If that had happened, Kraiss, Vengeance, and Esther would have crossed the river of death together, hand in hand.

But in that terrifying situation, Enkrid had remained calm. He faced the approaching commander as if he was simply an expected opponent.

“A dogfight.”

Another casual response. Kraiss came to his conclusion. He must be a late-blooming genius. His talent had only awakened recently, it seemed.

There was no reason to delve deeper. Despite his curiosity, it was obvious that Enkrid wouldn’t give any more revealing answers.

Even if he wanted to suspect something, there was nothing to base it on. Was there some grand secret? What kind of secret could there be?

It wasn’t like Enkrid was some fortune-teller who could foresee everything that would happen.

‘That would be impossible.’

No fortune-teller could predict events with such precise detail. Besides, Kraiss thought most fortune-tellers were just con artists scrambling for a quick coin.

‘The world runs on Krona.’

It runs on money, and it falls apart because of it. Why were Naurillia and the Azpen Duchy fighting?

To Kraiss, there was only one reason. The Green Pearl Plains. Any kingdom that controlled it would have a second granary, practically doubling its resources.

‘If I were a king, I’d fight for it too.’

In that sense, war between the two nations was inevitable. In an age of war and conflict, it was only natural to pick up a sword or spear for profit.

So Enkrid’s sudden genius had nothing to do with Krona, and that meant it wasn’t worth his concern.

“What kind of metal do you think this is?”

At the end of these idle thoughts, Enkrid held out the sword he had taken from the enemy commander. Of course, he had brought it along.

“It’s made from good steel.”

“Do you think I asked to hear an answer like that?”

Kraiss didn’t need to think hard.

“There’s a famous iron ore mine in the Azpen Kingdom. It’s called Demp.”

“Demp? Demp, Demp… I’ve heard of it. Isn’t it a hidden village nestled between a river and mountains?”

Enkrid muttered to himself, nodding. He had roamed the continent for quite some time, after all. Kraiss nodded back and explained.

“Yeah, that Demp steel has a distinct color. It starts off as a light blue, deepens over time, and the best-quality steel eventually has no color at all.”

He had only heard this secondhand. But one thing was certain—a sword made of Demp steel would be even more expensive than Valerian steel, and pricier than Noir Mountain’s soft iron.

So, it was quite, no, very valuable.

“If you sold it…”

“I’m not selling it.”

“Huh? Are you going to swap out your sword?”

For soldiers, having a weapon that they were familiar with was crucial. That was just common sense, and Kraiss knew that too.

There was no way Enkrid would just trade out the sword he was used to.

“What if I used both?”

Enkrid wasn’t speaking to Kraiss but rather musing aloud. The cool spring breeze, carrying warmth, ruffled Enkrid’s hair.

Through his tousled hair, Enkrid’s gaze focused on the sword. Kraiss noticed the look in his commander’s eyes.

It was a strange expression.

How should he describe it?

A look of excitement, like a child who had just received an unexpected gift, his eyes bright with energy and enthusiasm.

Seeing that, Kraiss couldn’t bring himself to insist on selling the sword. Enkrid’s blue eyes, as deep and clear as Esther’s, were filled with a genuine excitement.

Enkrid didn’t care whether Kraiss was watching him or not. The reason he had become proficient with his left hand? There was no need for a grand excuse.

In truth, there wasn’t anything to explain. It wasn’t something that could be easily explained.

‘I’ve just been training,’ was all he could say.

It might sound like he had suddenly become a genius, but—

There was no other way to describe it.

More than anything, Enkrid had felt something resembling talent this time. That sense of taking a huge leap forward in one moment.

An experience where his skill dramatically improved. The kind where what would normally take a hundred swings to master, took only a few.

‘It’s strange, but…’

Would it happen again? He didn’t know. And, honestly, he didn’t need to know. He would simply continue like he always had.

Steadily moving forward, step by step. From the beginning, talent had never been the point for Enkrid.

‘Once I’ve recovered.’

Then he could try various things.

Sitting on a makeshift rock chair in front of the medical tent at the rear base, Enkrid was lost in his thoughts.

Training, his left hand, his right hand, dogfighting, Mitch Hurrier, his sword, and the battlefield.

As he mulled over these things, he found himself eager to get up and move.

“You were told not to strain yourself. Why do you think I’m here keeping an eye on you?”

Kraiss reminded him. Right, that’s what the medic had said. He was to take several days of absolute rest.

The rear base was managed by the supply unit, and the 2nd Company’s 3rd Platoon—Vengeance’s platoon—was left behind for defense. Reinforcements were expected soon.

Once the reinforcements arrived, Enkrid was to head to the front lines. But first, his body needed to recover.

His right hand was still in a splint. His shoulder had a cut, though not too deep. His left forearm had a stab wound from a dagger.

None of these injuries were too severe individually, but any strenuous movement could worsen them.

‘This is a mess.’

His body also ached from the strain of using joint locks.

Had he not trained in Isolation Technique, had he not mastered Focus Point, had Heart of the Beast not supported him, had he not felt the enemy’s blade through his senses—

‘I would’ve been the one to die.’

Enkrid sat quietly, focusing on recovery. Even as he rested, he mentally swung his sword. At first, he imagined wielding it with his right hand, then he envisioned holding a single sword with both hands.

By the end of his mental training, Enkrid saw himself holding his sword in his right hand and Mitch Hurrier’s sword in his left.

‘Could it work?’

He didn’t know. But he wanted to try. It just felt right in his hand.

Dual-wielding.

‘First, I’ll need more strength.’

That had to come first. Holding and swinging a sword with two hands was completely different from wielding two swords at once.

One of his instructors had once scolded someone for trying something like this.

“Dual-wielding? That’s a sure way to get yourself killed. You can’t even properly handle one sword, and now you want to wield two? Even skilled swordsmen rarely attempt it.”

The instructor had been blunt. Enkrid remembered where he had met him.

It was in a major city.

The instructor had said that refined swordsmanship came from a refined body. Later, the lesson left Enkrid feeling bitter.

As he pondered, he began to feel hungry. When injured, the body needed proper nourishment and rest.

“Here’s your meal.”

Kraiss brought him food just in time. Thin wheat bread, thick bacon, dried fruit, and cheese.

It was a feast.

“Did you raid the supply tent?”

“No. I think the supply officer is grateful to you, actually. If things had gone wrong, his head would’ve been on the chopping block.”

Kraiss mimicked chopping his neck with his hand. It made sense. The rear base was there to provide supplies.

Had the enemy’s raid succeeded, who would have been blamed?

Who was responsible?

No need to ask—it was the supply officer. If their tents had caught fire, he’d have been executed for sure. A commander could be forgiven for losing a battle, but not for failing to guard his supplies.

“Let’s eat.”

Enkrid chewed, swallowed, and drank. He drank water instead of alcohol, and Kraiss took care of him, albeit not overly doting.

Three days passed like this.

“We’re heading out. Are you coming?”

Vengeance asked, fully armed. Reinforcements had arrived at the rear base. Word had come that the front line was becoming even more intense.

Enkrid had to go, as his entire platoon was already stationed at the front. His wounds from the sword cuts and stabs hadn’t fully healed, but walking wasn’t a problem.

“Of course.”

Kraiss, lost in thought, was considering something.

‘Seeing the way the platoon leader fights…’

It didn’t seem like he would die anytime soon. Maybe he should stick around instead of staying behind. He could at least gather some loot from the battlefield.

Besides, with the supply commander replaced and none of the reinforcements from the 3rd Regiment being familiar faces, staying at the rear wasn’t appealing anymore.

Since it had come to this—

‘I’ll head out and grab some loot.’

Kraiss joined them.

“Nyaa.”

Even after resting for three days, Esther still looked drained. Enkrid picked her up.

She wasn’t heavy. Was she eating well? Why didn’t she seem to be growing at all?

Young animals usually grew quickly. It didn’t seem like her size had changed at all since they first met.

“Are you eating properly?”

Enkrid asked, stroking Esther’s head. Esther blinked and looked up at him. A man with eyes similar to hers.

Who’s worrying about who here?

He had nearly died again.

Thud, thud.

Esther pawed at Enkrid’s chest. She was telling him not to worry about her.

“Alright, when I get the chance, I’ll get you something good to eat.”

Enkrid misunderstood, but it wasn’t important.

You fool. Let’s go.

Esther closed her eyes, still weary. Enkrid began walking. The only difference now was—

There were two swords hanging at his waist.

“Two swords?”

Vengeance asked, and Enkrid nodded. He had seen Enkrid use his left hand and had even sparred with him.

Vengeance had gotten used to the strange things Enkrid did, so he just let it slide. The platoon merged with Vengeance’s unit, and they marched to the front without issue.

As they arrived, the cold atmosphere of the battlefield greeted them. The sky darkened as if it might rain while they walked along a path filled with the stench of blood and steel.

The smell of water mixed with iron and decay, creating a pungent aroma of death. This was the front line.

And there, waiting for them—

“Damn it, I almost died of boredom waiting. Wait, what? You’re more injured than when I last saw you, huh?”

“Well, things happened.”

Enkrid’s platoon had already been waiting.

Rem, who was about to burst with excitement, was quickly calmed down by a wave of Enkrid’s hand.

It almost felt like every time they were apart, something happened. But what could they do? That’s just how things were.

Vengeance took care of the formalities of their return, allowing Enkrid to quickly reunite with his unit at the barracks. He briefly recounted what had happened at the rear.

“You keep doing interesting things when I’m not around.”

Rem complained while picking his nose, but that was the end of it. They had survived, and that’s all that mattered.

When Enkrid asked for an update on the battlefield situation, Jaxon calmly filled him in.

“We’re just watching each other right now.”

It turned out that there hadn’t been much fighting since Enkrid had left.

There were now over two battalions of infantry here, including reinforcements, which meant there were more than a thousand soldiers gathered.

They also had a direct command unit, scouts, and rear guards protecting the supply line.

‘This is the beginning of a full-scale war.’

The main battle.

Knights, mages, and sorcerers were preparing for battle on the Green Pearl Plains.

Both armies were keeping a close eye on this side of the battle. No one knew exactly how things had reached this point, but the situation had escalated.

The infantry battle here which was meant to block the enemy’s detour had become the prelude to the main event. The winner here would decide the outcome of the larger war.

Of course, this fight would impact the morale of the main army as well. Winning here would open up more strategic opportunities for them.

They would have access to new fields and paths, making it easier to deploy strike forces. Both nations were holding back their main forces and support units, waiting for the right moment. For now, it was a tense standoff.

The atmosphere in the camp was heavy with the impending sense of a full-blown battle. Everyone was on edge except for the Mad Platoon.

For Enkrid, the thought was simple.

Oh, a battle is coming. Soon. So, what should I do? I’ll train.

Enkrid woke up at dawn and trained his body with the Isolation Technique, just as usual. The sentry watching him thought, As expected of the mad platoon leader.

It almost felt like a proud tradition, passed down from the days when Enkrid had been the leader of the Troublemaker Squad. Rain or shine, he would always swing his sword.

That’s who he was.

“There’s no sane person in this platoon.”

The sentry muttered as he watched Enkrid.

“Are you training already, brother?”

Before the sun had even risen, the sentry saw Enkrid grappling with Audin, twisting arms and throwing each other around.

‘Are their brains broken?’

With the fear of a looming battle making everyone’s legs shake, and morale already at its lowest—

They still found ways to train and mess around.