A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 35

Chapter 35: He Was Purely Happy

The members of the Troublemaker Squad all had strong personalities, but they all shared a common trait; they generally paid little attention to their surroundings. Among them, Ragna was particularly indifferent to others’ opinions and didn’t care much about his environment.

‘Living haphazardly, fighting haphazardly, and eating haphazardly.’

Living like that, he also slept a lot. Given his nature, Enkrid had been surprised when Ragna volunteered to join the reconnaissance mission.

Ragna volunteering to take on reconnaissance?

Had our lazy squad member changed?

No, that wasn’t the case. Ragna was capricious and driven by whims. At that moment, he had been caught up in the atmosphere, but would likely back out within a day, maybe even half a day.

That’s why Enkrid hadn’t sent him on the mission in the first place. There was a reason Enkrid handled most of the troublesome tasks in the Troublemaker Squad.

Ragna’s personality was, in many ways, the opposite of Enkrid’s. Ragna lacked motivation, while Enkrid was the type to spend every spare moment practicing with his sword.

Of course, Ragna did occasionally practice with his sword. He would spar with Rem as Enkrid had seen when he returned, and he had his moments on the battlefield.

But each time, Ragna would mutter, “It wasn’t intentional.” Enkrid found it curious that Ragna showed interest in him now.

‘What’s this about?’

It was rare. Ragna would sometimes ask questions or make requests but he wasn’t the type to spend days watching and formulating his questions.

Enkrid lowered the hand that had been scratching his forehead. Among the squad members, Rem was the most active, but even Rem only interacted with people up to a certain point. Up close, it was clear that he kept people at arm’s length. In some ways, Rem was a more difficult type than a lazy person like Ragna.

Still, Rem spoke his mind. Ragna, on the other hand, rarely said what was necessary. This made Ragna’s question all the more intriguing. For a moment, Enkrid stared into Ragna’s eyes. A silent moment passed between them.

Enkrid looked away, as if playing a staring game, and raised his head. The cloudless sky stretched out above them. Recently, it had rained often, but now the sky was a clear, deep blue without a single cloud. It made him feel refreshed.

Looking at the sky, he stopped wondering why Ragna was asking, what his motives were, or whether his guess was correct. Enkrid decided to stop worrying.

Ragna had asked a question; he would answer it. Whether dealing with swords or people, he always gave his best.

‘Since when did I start worrying about this?’

He always gave his best, even though what he wanted was far away. He lived a life of constant yearning.

Ragna asked why he went to such lengths. He was likely referring to Enkrid’s constant sword practice. Or perhaps his diligent approach to everything. Or maybe he was asking about his refusal to give up despite his modest skills. So, Enkrid responded to the question with a question.

“What if I were good with a sword?”

Outside the makeshift camp, in a place with no shade, sunlight surrounded them as Ragna’s gaze remained on Enkrid’s face. Enkrid continued.

“If I were, what could I become? What could I achieve?”

Enkrid’s voice was smooth, like a well-crafted instrument. At least, that’s how it sounded to Ragna. It wasn’t an excited voice, nor was it a discouraged one. It was like reading a fairy tale to a child, calm and unhurried.

“Right now, I swing my sword to survive, but I don’t want to live like that.”

With those words, Enkrid swung his sword. From top to bottom, vertically.

Swish.

The blade cut through the air, releasing its distinctive scent. The scent of iron mixed with the battlefield’s smell tickled Ragna’s nose. Enkrid continued his sword practice, ignoring Ragna’s presence.

He trained with his sword. From top to bottom. From bottom to top. Diagonally, then horizontally. He imagined a sparring partner, simulating binding their swords together and pulling before striking back.

Ragna watched his squad leader in silence. As a low-ranking soldier in the Kingdom of Naurillia, Ragna knew that the Troublemaker Squad leader’s skills were above average for his rank.

But he was not highly skilled either. If he entered the mercenary business, he would be slightly above average. A mid-level mercenary’s skill was not impressive.

Ragna had once been deeply involved in the mercenary world and knew the skill levels well. He had an innate insight into swordsmanship, almost on par with Frog. He could gauge the squad leader’s skills and knew his limitations.

‘It’s already too late.’

His foundation was flawed. From the moment he picked up the sword, he should have focused on basics. A lack of talent had taken away his opportunities.

What about the current squad leader?

He was right. The desperation to survive, the techniques honed for that purpose, held him back.

Among the squad leader’s skills, only two were notable. One was what he learned from Rem, who, despite his bad luck, had decent skills. The other was the sudden improvement in thrusting. Apart from these two, his basics were lacking, and he relied on tricks.

That reliance on tricks was the problem. Ragna, exercising his insight, asked instead of explaining.

“If you become good with the sword, what will you do then?”

Enkrid stopped swinging his sword. Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripping off his chin to the ground. Sweat dropped onto the soil, quickly absorbing into the earth.

Sunlight, swords, wind, sky. Embracing it all, Enkrid spoke the dream he had repeated countless times.

“A knight, a knight who races to the end of the battlefield.”

“Why?”

Ragna asked. To him, it was a natural question. Ragna saw the path. A path whose destination was clear without needing to experience it.

Would that path be enjoyable?

Even upon reaching the destination, there was nothing he wanted to do. He had no will to walk that path. Ragna was like that. He saw the path and the destination but he couldn’t walk it, nor did he want to.

“Does wanting to become something need a reason?”

Enkrid asked in return.

It was a romance, a dream. His life and the days he had lived. It was also the dream of a boy who had been enchanted long ago.

How many times had he repeated that dream?

Wanting to become something did not need a reason. He didn’t plan on merely wanting it.

“I want to live according to what I believe is right. To wield my sword for the poor and sick, for honor, and for those I love.”

What is a knight?

Just a killing machine adept at killing?

Knights were often referred to that way. A combat machine specialized in killing. But if the knights Enkrid dreamed of were just that, he wouldn’t have wielded his sword all this time.

A knight was one who protected honor and faith, who expressed their will through their sword. A sword that upheld chivalry, which most no longer sought.

As he spoke, Enkrid thought of Crang.

Why did his words have power?

How did his words attract everyone?

Now he had a glimpse of the answer. It was because of sincerity and true intention. That was the foundation. So Enkrid spoke with all his heart.

To Ragna, it was a shock. Of course, he didn’t show it outwardly, so Enkrid didn’t know. Ragna asked himself a question.

If he wanted to live according to what he believed was right, why did he need a sword?

Without strength, it was difficult to realize what he believed in. His heart was always filled with emptiness. That was the source of his helplessness. But now, as he conversed with Enkrid, a different flame kindled in his heart, replacing the helplessness.

Holding the flame blossoming in his heart, Ragna pondered deeply. He sat on the plains, surrounded by grass.

What is a knight, and what is a sword?

The questions led to conclusions.

‘I won’t know unless I walk the path.’

He found the necessity to walk the path. Enkrid left him there and resumed his sword practice. Silence filled the space, with only the sword, the sky, and the wind moving. Though slightly distant, the noisy sounds of soldiers in the camp reached them, but otherwise, it was quiet. The silence didn’t last long.

“Do you want to learn swordsmanship?”

Ragna, staring blankly at a pointed stone on the ground, spoke. With a thrust, sweat scattered through the air. Enkrid stopped mid-thrust. Regulating his breath, he kept his eyes on the sword tip and replied.

“Yes.”

His tone was simple and calm. He never missed an opportunity to learn. For Enkrid, it was natural. Ragna was surprised at himself for saying that.

‘Why did I?’

But he soon understood why. Partly, he wanted to show the struggling squad leader the right path. The other part was for himself.

‘If the squad leader is around.’

He found himself moving more actively. Watching Enkrid live his life stimulated him. Ragna needed that stimulation. Something to push him down the long and tedious path. The squad leader’s presence was that stimulus. With him, even training would seem worthwhile. Seeing him improve brought new energy.

He sparred with the squad leader, tried to take his place on reconnaissance, and used Rem to loosen up.

It was rare. At least for Ragna.

What would happen if he taught the squad leader?

It was more selfish than selfless. Enkrid didn’t question the reason.

‘Why is he doing this?’

Ragna offered to teach him swordsmanship without being asked. Learning the Heart of the Beast from Rem had been possible only because he had pestered Rem. It was the same with Jaxon. Everything had happened because he had taken the initiative.

But this time was different. Ragna had watched him for days, asked a few questions, and then offered to teach him swordsmanship. It seemed like a good opportunity.

So, he didn’t want to question the reason.

When sparring, Ragna had never discussed swordsmanship beyond what was necessary. Enkrid was like a starving wolf regarding swordsmanship. During sparring, he asked countless questions and pushed harder, but Ragna avoided answering. But now, he was offering to teach.

“Then, first.”

Ragna stood up, dusting off his pants, and hesitated. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Enkrid lowered the sword tip and waited calmly. As he waited, he recalled what Rem had said.

“Me teaching swordsmanship is a bit much.”

Rem was good with both axes and swords. Enkrid had seen him cut and stab enemies with a sword many times.

“I swing by instinct. You can’t teach that. You need to learn systematically.”

It didn’t seem like he was just reluctant to teach. Nor was he holding back out of selfishness. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have taught him the Heart of the Beast. Enkrid had accepted it then. As Enkrid pondered, Ragna spoke.

“The beast’s innards, or whatever you learned from the barbarian.”

…Heart of the Beast. How did that become the beast’s innards?

Rem would have swung his axe if he heard that.

“And the thrust.”

Ragna continued, looking Enkrid straight in the eyes.

“Other than that, you’ll need to start over from scratch. Is that okay?”

Enkrid was momentarily confused.

“So you mean starting from the basics again. Can you do it?”

Ragna didn’t know any other way to teach and learn. Enkrid found it hard to agree for a moment.

“Why?”

The Vallen Style Mercenary Swordsmanship. Despite what others said, he thought it was a great technique and style.

“If you keep using that swordsmanship, you won’t improve beyond your current level.”

Ragna continued explaining. His examples were crude and explanations unclear, but Enkrid quickly understood.

The core was simple. His current state had clear limits. Even if he kept training, he could improve, but the progress would be slow, and he wouldn’t overcome his limits. When asked why, Ragna explained that he had learned too many miscellaneous techniques.

“The main issue is the lack of basics.”

Enkrid hadn’t expected to hear that. Even when he paid for lessons, instructors always emphasized the importance of basics, so he had invested a lot of time in them.

Thinking it over, it made sense. He always paid for lessons. He couldn’t spend that time on basics. So, he practiced what he thought were the basics— cutting and thrusting— on his own.

That was the problem.

A brief realization struck him. A moment of joy spread through his body. His hand holding the sword trembled. He saw a path.

A crude but open path beyond the wall and darkness that had always blocked his way. The exhilaration of that moment was unmatched.

As his hand trembled, Ragna spoke in a cautious tone.

“Now, you need to decide. Will you start anew, or will you be satisfied with where you are?”

Ragna expected Enkrid to give up. Starting anew meant beginning from the ground up. His mercenary skills, which were about mid-high level, would drop to the lower level.

Could he endure that?

Could someone who lived and breathed the battlefield?

Unless he had multiple lives. Even if he wanted to, it wouldn’t be easy. When death loomed, instinctive skills would surface.

“You’ll need to risk a few lives.”

Ragna said, his tone rough but caring. Enkrid nodded. Ragna, confused by the vague gesture, looked at him, prompting Enkrid to clarify.

“I’ll start anew.”

“Really?”

Ragna was surprised by his answer. There was no hesitation in his response. Despite trembling moments before. Ragna thought it was out of anger, frustration, or despair. Enkrid’s reaction was the opposite.

“Yes.”

He was purely happy.