A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 126

Chapter 126: Today’s Victory Doesn’t Guarantee Tomorrow’s Victory (2)

A spark ignited in Ragna’s eyes.

An eagerness, desire, or something deeper. Before Enkrid had time to fully process his thoughts—

Whump.

A sudden whoosh of air reached his ears.

The moment he registered the sound, Ragna’s blade was already above him. Enkrid moved instinctively.

He raised his sword horizontally, a weapon forged from a blend of Valerian steel and Nuairian wrought iron, meeting Ragna’s crude arming sword.

Clang.

Blade met blade, producing a resounding noise, and just as quickly, they parted. Ragna took a step back, and Enkrid mirrored him.

Perhaps this exchange could be considered a greeting of sorts. Just from this single exchange, Enkrid felt he had glimpsed something new.

‘What should I call that move just now?’

A lightning-fast strike? Or a quiet, controlled slash?

It was elegant, beautiful, and exceptional. Ragna’s sword had cut with flawless precision.

Enkrid’s response had been the opposite.

It wasn’t clean. It was rough, more like a dull, crude blade than a finely honed edge. It was like an untanned hide, coarse and raw.

Yet he saw it, and his body reacted.

“Again.”

Ragna spoke, his blade tracing a familiar arc identical to his last swing—a clean, graceful slash. Enkrid blocked with the same stance.

Clang!

Sparks flew as their blades collided once more.

Tingling.

The moment their swords clashed again, Ragna’s blade vanished.

‘A controlled cut from the very start.’

Ragna wielded his sword with absolute mastery. This move was no different. It looked like a gentle downward stroke, but it was a powerful, focused strike.

Enkrid held his sword horizontally to block it, but both his arms went numb from the force. At that moment, Ragna’s sword twisted like a snake, aiming to drive downward.

The target was Enkrid’s thigh. After just one controlled slash, Enkrid’s arms were tingling, leaving him vulnerable.

Should he force his numbed arms to respond? No, that would be reckless. Enkrid chose his footwork instead, jumping back to gain a favorable position.

By stepping back with his right foot and pivoting his body, he would gain access to Ragna’s flank.

Ragna didn’t remain still. He smoothly retracted his downward slash, moving his foot to the side in response.

Swish.

With a sweeping step, they found themselves facing each other once more.

If Ragna’s eyes held a fiery passion,

What, then, did Enkrid’s eyes hold in contrast?

‘Those eyes.’

Ragna’s desire surged. His ambition flared. He wanted to wield his sword. To speak not with words, but with hands and feet.

Swords, weapons, killing intent, and will—those were the only languages he wished to exchange now.

Enkrid had no objections to that.

‘Perfect. Bring it on.’

Ragna silently marveled as Enkrid felt an indescribable rush rise within him during their brief exchange. The greeting of blades, the controlled slash, the contest of position—

All of it stirred something deep within him. Soon, a surge of energy seemed to pour from every part of his body.

How could he describe this?

Vitality? Life force?

He didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt invigorated. The initial exchange and the controlled slash had allowed him to test his wrist’s condition.

There was a heavy shock but no pain.

‘I’m good.’

So all that remained was to fully engage.

This time, Enkrid moved first.

He lunged with a thrust brimming with intent and commitment. Leading with his left foot, he completed the movement in an instant, launching his sword forward with a zing.

Like a hawk diving from the sky, his sword’s point sliced through the air.

Ragna twisted his body, watching the oncoming sword tip. Though he made no flashy footwork, he easily dodged Enkrid’s thrust.

Ragna laughed as he dodged. Seeing Ragna evade, Enkrid also laughed, satisfied.

To an outsider, it might have looked like a simple repetition of moves. Stabbing, cutting, dodging, repositioning.

Tock.

Enkrid’s attacks were unpredictable. Suddenly, he closed the distance to kick at Ragna’s shin. When Ragna dodged it, Enkrid grabbed his sword by the ricasso and the blade, engaging in half-swording.

Ragna blocked and deflected every move and then countered with his sword. It was as if all he knew was to swing his sword, and swing it again.

‘Damn.’

Rem watched with restless feet.

‘That looks so damn fun.’

Enkrid’s skills had grown again. In just a few days, he had changed somehow. Rem wanted to fight him. He wanted to test himself against Enkrid with a fully recovered wrist.

Just watching made his desire intensify.

‘Don’t overdo it, don’t overdo it.’

Rem was growing anxious. He feared Enkrid might exhaust himself entirely fighting Ragna.

That had never happened before, but this sparring session felt different. There was an unfamiliar energy in the air.

The last time they sparred was when Enkrid’s wrist was injured, and it ended up surprising everyone. Rem and the others had taken it easy on him, each allowing him a turn.

But now?

‘That bastard’s getting a little too serious, isn’t he?’

Rem noticed Ragna’s strikes. While they weren’t as intense as when he fought Rem, they weren’t as lazy as usual, either.

Had he shown half this intensity against the enemy commander, the name “Ragna” would have been engraved in the man’s memory.

‘Damn it, just go easy, will you?’

Rem’s fingers itched. If the two hadn’t been laughing, he would’ve charged in with his axe already. Rem wasn’t the only one feeling the heat.

‘Why am I…?’

Jaxon questioned himself. Wasn’t he someone who avoided fighting at the front?

No, he had never been one to take the lead in battle. Sure, he diligently practiced his swordsmanship, but was it out of passion?

No.

Training with a sword was one thing, being driven by desire was another. At least, that’s what it had always been for Jaxon.

Flinch.

His hand kept twitching.

As he watched Enkrid’s steps, watched the man he called his platoon leader wield his sword, his body began to respond.

‘This is ridiculous.’

Suddenly, he felt a sense of competition rising within him. Though Enkrid’s skills had improved, Jaxon was confident he could take him down right now.

In his eyes, Ragna was a lazy fool who wasn’t even giving his best. If Ragna were more serious, this sparring session would have ended long ago.

So why was he reacting to this fight?

Jaxon clenched his teeth, feeling a strange dent in his pride. He steadied his mind and chose to remain silent. He managed to still his twitching body, standing motionless as he watched.

While Jaxon reined himself in, Audin watched the fight with pleasure. He was delighted.

‘Now, finally.’

He, too, felt ready to let loose a bit. He wasn’t in a hurry, nor did he deny his rising sense of rivalry.

‘For this is what the Lord has granted me.’

For Audin, the desire to battle was a gift. If he had lacked that drive, he wouldn’t be here at Enkrid’s side but rather by the side of the god he served.

Though he’d endured two days of excruciating headaches as a price for wielding his divine powers, Audin was satisfied.

Look at that.

The sight of the platoon leader moving freely once more filled him with awe. The elf company commander missed none of Enkrid and Ragna’s movements.

And she couldn’t help but think,

‘A genius, perhaps?’

It was a natural question.

She hadn’t considered his skills at this level before.

Their first encounter in the infirmary. She thought back to her initial impression of Enkrid.

‘I thought he was just lucky.’

But now, his skill with the sword was undeniable. To her eye, he was exceptional. Like a single crane standing out among a flock of chickens.

She might have concluded he was a late-blooming genius, but—

‘No, it’s a little different.’

Her sharp eyes noticed small flaws in Enkrid’s movements. Subtle habits that a true genius wouldn’t have. Her elf intuition was at times sharper than Prok’s talent-sensing abilities.

There were certain traces, evident only in those who had spent long hours and sleepless nights wielding a sword, who had thought deeply.

And she saw those signs in Enkrid. Real prodigies wouldn’t show those signs. No, real prodigies were like Ragna—swinging without a single thought, free from hesitation.

That was a true genius.

So what was Enkrid, then?

“Hah!”

Right then, Enkrid let out a shout and attempted an overhead slash with one hand. It was a practiced stroke, imbued with the weight of countless repetitions.

A trajectory refined over time, embodying his understanding that this was the optimal path, the only road to his target.

Clang!

Their swords met. Enkrid’s blade slid down Ragna’s, scraping along its edge.

A deliberate move?

The elf’s instincts were right.

Ragna flicked Enkrid’s sword aside with a powerful motion. Then he immediately extended his sword, attempting a short horizontal slash.

In that split second, Enkrid’s left hand glimmered with light. A bluish gleam—something honed through practice that extended from his hip like a shaft of sunlight.

A second sword.

Swish!

Enkrid’s move had been calculated, but his second sword strike merely slashed through the air. Despite its terrifying speed, Ragna had read the move and reacted within that short moment.

With perfect timing, Ragna stepped back, dodging the strike.

It was a flawless retreat.

Enkrid’s second sword cut through empty space in front of Ragna. Ragna then brought down his retracted sword.

A strike aimed at breaking Enkrid’s rhythm. This wasn’t merely a victory in tactics. It was a difference in skill.

In battle, it took more than just power. Perception, intuition, experience, technique. Ragna had seen and felt Enkrid’s left hand move. His own movements were invisible to Enkrid as he struck with his hands and feet.

And that’s how the spar ended.

The elf company commander watched the ending with a twinge of impatience.

‘I want to fight him, too.’

Who said she was above rivalry?

She had used her hands and feet before, but now she wanted to exchange blows with her sword.

Perhaps she would even be somewhat serious. She wanted to show him some of the mystical skills her kind had developed over her years.

How would Enkrid react to that?

Kraiss, watching from one side, felt no desire to join in. He could barely see their movements. What rivalry could he feel?

‘He’s improved.’

Even a layman like him could tell Enkrid’s skills had progressed significantly.

‘A late-blooming genius, maybe?’

Impressive, but that was it for him. Kraiss looked away from the sparring match, finding more interesting sights around him.

Rem stood up and sat back down three times, finally stamping his feet impatiently. He looked like a child whose favorite toy had been snatched away.

Next to him, Jaxon twitched his shoulders a few times before becoming as still as a stone statue.

One could wonder if he was even breathing. How he managed to stand as still as if frozen was uncanny.

Watching him sent a chill down Kraiss’s spine. It felt like being alone in a cemetery on a dark night.

‘Ugh.’

Kraiss involuntarily clicked his tongue, shifting his gaze to Audin. Engrossed in his own mutterings, the giant soldier of faith was practically beaming.

Kraiss sidled closer, listening to Audin’s murmuring.

“Good. Now it’ll be a fair fight.”

“It wouldn’t matter if he broke one of my arms.”

“But snapping his neck—that would almost send him straight to the Lord. That won’t do. No, can’t have that.”

That was truly terrifying. A chill ran down Kraiss’s spine.

What was he even saying?

Although his words were unnerving, his posture was calm. Audin merely stayed in place, unmoving.

Finally, there was the elf company commander. The usually jovial elf hadn’t taken her eyes off Enkrid, gripping her sword tightly.

She was like a quiet forest ready to unleash a storm. Kraiss’s impression was that these people were something else.

No large crowd gathered to watch. A few soldiers glanced over curiously, but no one seemed too interested.

Those who understood skill had witnessed it before. They had all seen Enkrid sparring with his platoon upon his return from the rear.

Most couldn’t sense the changes.

Those with keen eyes were busy with their own tasks, and the rest had no desire to watch. There was no spectacle here, no hint of an impending battle. This meant nothing to those present.

These were men and women preparing for war, yet here they were, itching to fight. And the one they were all targeting was the same person.

Enkrid, their platoon leader, freshly recovered from his injuries.

‘Do they have any sense?’

Even so, Kraiss wouldn’t scold them.

He usually kept his distance, but now, he was extra cautious. The heat of battle between them was intense.

‘Is he going to be okay?’

The spar with Ragna had been intense. Maybe he should rest. But if he chose to rest, Rem would throw a fit.

The others wouldn’t be happy either. Kraiss’s worry was unfounded.

“Next.”

With a grin, sweat dripping down his face, Enkrid’s voice rang out. Fueled by surging energy, he felt a manic desire to keep moving.

Hearing that, Rem jumped up, quite literally springing forward.

“My turn! My turn! Anyone cuts in, and I’ll kill you—commander or not.”

Rem’s eyes were wild. The elf commander had been about to step in but decided to yield.

She was fine with it. Seeing Enkrid now, he didn’t look like he intended to rest anyway.

That day, Enkrid fought hard. He clashed swords, swung, and showcased his dual-wielding skills to his heart’s content.

“Not bad.”

The elf commander even took her turn, giving a simple assessment of his dual-sword technique.

It didn’t end with just one round. Ragna went twice, Rem three times, Audin twice, and the elf commander once. Excluding Jaxon, who chose not to participate, this was the number of rounds each fought with Enkrid.

Kraiss clicked his tongue. The sparring didn’t end until the sun was setting.

Not that he ever seemed to tire. Afterwards, Enkrid collapsed onto the ground. Esther, appearing out of nowhere, cast a fierce look at everyone present.

Her gaze seemed to accuse them, as if to say, What were you doing until he ended up like this?

But no one paid her any mind.

Enkrid was utterly satisfied.

‘Those expressions.’

When was it, again?

After the reconnaissance mission?

Back then, he had watched Rem and Ragna spar and noticed something. Their expressions were different from when they sparred with him.

He had wanted to draw out those same expressions from them. And today, he finally succeeded.

Of course, Rem, Ragna, and the others hadn’t gone all out. He knew that well.

But he had seen it. Their expressions changed. The grins, the smiles, the and the satisfaction. It felt like he had achieved a small goal.

Enkrid was filled with joy, an elation that was almost addictive. The sense of fulfillment that came from growth filled his chest.

Perhaps he had pushed himself too hard. That night, he was plagued by nightmares once again.