A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 37

Chapter 37: What is the Medium of Sorcery?

“Where did you learn those steps from?”

On the fifth day, Ragna suddenly asked.

‘Of course, you taught me.’

Enkrid couldn’t be honest.

“I’ve been to more than twenty training schools.”

Some of them were almost scams, but many taught properly.

“Hmm.”

Ragna nodded. Moving based on the steps learned from Ragna, a lively expression began to appear on Ragna’s face. He was enjoying the moment. To be fair, Ragna wasn’t an excellent teacher. He couldn’t be.

A genius does not see what’s beneath their feet. Therefore, it is difficult for them to teach the path they have taken. How can they explain something that just needs to be done?

If he says to strike down with the sword, he thinks it should be enough to just strike down. He doesn’t explain the necessary steps or the shift in weight. No, he can’t explain it. He’s the worst type to run a swordsmanship training school. Enkrid realized this on the first day.

But that was okay. If the teacher was a mess, the student just had to do well. In that regard, Enkrid could be considered the best on the continent.

“Where should my feey go? In which direction should my toes point?”

“Do I really need to tell you that?”

It wasn’t a tone of criticism. He was genuinely curious.

“Yes.”

Ragna corrected his stance, showing the direction of the toes. That stance was a model of basic skills. Anyone with an eye for such things would drool at the sight of his talent. Just watching Ragna’s stance repeatedly was helpful for Enkrid.

“What about the center of gravity?”

“Yes, do it with that timing.”

Enkrid asked, and Ragna answered. Throughout the repetition of twelve days, Ragna taught Enkrid only steps and stances.

“Stance and feet first, basics come next.”

“Sometimes, you swing it decently.”

“You couldn’t even chop wood with your current skill.”

“If the enemy soldier dies from your downward strike, tell him three times, ‘Thank you for dying.’”

“So, was I dancing just now?”

“Yes, it was a dance. Since you held a sword, it should be called a sword dance, but I don’t want to call it that. Let’s call it a stick dance.”

Ragna calmly unleashed his sharp tongue.

‘Was this bastard always like this?’

Rem was a much softer teacher. Sometimes, what he said was crazy, but it was still satisfactory. Every day, it felt like breaking an egg and being reborn. When Enkrid started the diagonal slash, Ragna spoke.

“The line connecting you and the opponent you are facing is called the attack line. This line is usually the shortest distance between the two and the path the weapon will take during an attack.”

“Blocking the opponent’s attack line and extending your own, this is also part of the basics. Do you understand? No, I don’t think you do. Ah, is this that thing? You understand it in your head, but your body doesn’t listen?”

“Let me say it again. The squad leader only understands with his mouth.”

Ragna was someone who couldn’t teach without spitting out sharp words. Learning and learning again.

Twenty five days passed.

“…I thought your basics were terrible, but you can use your feet.”

That’s what he said on the thirty-fifth day. By this time, Enkrid’s behavior had changed a bit. He no longer died immediately after the fog descended. He dodged the first spear thrust, rushed in, and died.

Spears stuck into his body like a porcupine. It was quite a decent method. Sometimes, one spear would miss.

Why would they pull back their spears when he was rushing to get killed?

It made sense. They’d be baffled to see someone suddenly charging to be killed. If the spear missed, he had to twitch and writhe for an hour before dying. It was a series of unbearable pains and a succession of dreadful moments. Every time, Ragna would call out or shout at Enkrid.

“Squad Leader!”

“Crazy!”

“Hey!”

Eventually, he was so desperate he just shouted “Hey.”

Enkrid diligently filled today.

“Your stance is better than I thought.”

Little by little, he improved. Every time he changed, Ragna frowned.

“Until yesterday…”

He muttered like this.

“…Where did you learn that?”

Around the hundredth day, Ragna said.

“Who are you?”

When he looked up, wondering what nonsense he was talking about.

“Until yesterday, you were a mess. How did you change so much in one day? Is it magic?”

Ragna was astonished. Enkrid laughed at the sight.

“Why? Do you think my skill is better than you expected?”

“It’s not just a little better. I doubt you’re really the squad leader.”

Ragna truly looked suspicious. This was the Troublemaker Squad, and Ragna was a weirdo too.

“So, are you not going to teach me?”

“That’s not it.”

Ragna hesitantly resumed.

Afterward, they wielded swords against imaginary opponents.

The concept of the attack line, the way to grip the sword, the method of using the sword for defense.

“If it’s a sword of good quality, you can block with the side. If not, block with the blade.”

“Slashing, thrusting, cutting— these three are the basics. Your steps and stance aren’t bad, so focus on these three fundamental sword techniques.”

Ragna taught a variety of steps.

Advancing, passing, digging in, evading, moving sideways, turning around, making a big turn. Just memorizing them was mind-boggling, but with practice, they became somewhat second nature. Even if he was dull, having a skilled person teach him one-on-one constantly improved his skills. Even the slight weaknesses that a genius wouldn’t notice were a continuous source of joy for Enkrid.

“Imagine the opponent in your mind and then swing the sword.”

Clang!

Through countless days, he kept learning.

Diagonal slashes, binding the sword, winding cuts, twisting slashes, upper horizontal slashes, side glances, top-down slashes, counter-attacks, half-sword fighting, parrying, deflecting, continuous strikes, thrusting, and drawing cuts.

As time passed, the sharp words decreased.

“You’re better than I thought. Where did you learn the binding technique?”

“One of the previous instructors drilled me to death on the binding.”

“That’s excellent.”

Ragna seemed satisfied with that. He used the same method when learning other techniques.

“They said my upper horizontal slashes were a mess in the previous training school. It would be good to start with swordsmanship from there.”

“…I’m the one teaching, but it seems you’ve already decided what to learn.”

“It’s not necessarily like that.”

Ragna conducted a short test when Enkrid shrugged. Then he followed Enkrid’s suggestion.

“Let’s do it that way.”

Ragna would never know, but after repeating the day countless times, after teaching, he would move on when he thought it was good enough. Each time, Enkrid progressed to the next step. Repeating today under the scorching sun, drenched in sweat. To some, it might be tedious enough to make them nauseous, but not for Enkrid.

Around the two-hundredth day.

“Hmm?”

When he opened his eyes, he saw a black river. What was happening?

A ferryman appeared. A ferryman with his eyes covered. His mouth didn’t seem to open, but his voice clearly pierced his ears.

“Are you crazy? You keep dying on purpose? You idiot.”

The ferryman’s tone was calm, but his words were not. Before he could respond, he woke from the dream.

Again, it was yet another familiar ‘today’.

Enkrid opened his eyes but didn’t move. He just fell into thought.

“Did you have a wet dream? What are you doing?”

Next to him, Rem made a noise like a puppy. Ignoring it, Enkrid got up.

‘Let’s just say he wanted to call me crazy.’

Even if he wanted to ask why, he couldn’t. There was no point in dwelling on unsolvable problems. Enkrid stood up.

“Do you know anything about sorcery?”

At those words, Rem turned his head sharply.

“Sorcery?”

“Tell me what you know.”

Every time the fog descended, Rem mentioned something related to sorcery. He must know something. All this time had been spent frantically training in the basics of swordsmanship, but now there was some leeway. The training had become ingrained in his body. Ragna would be surprised at his growing skills. He hadn’t tested his skills yet, but Enkrid felt he was improving.

“Sorcery is sorcery, what else would it be?”

“Tell me what you know. It sounds interesting.”

Normally, Enkrid wouldn’t be the one to start a conversation. Rem smirked and opened his mouth.

“What wind blew to make you curious? Fine. I’ll explain briefly. Do you know the difference between magic and sorcery?”

“Magic is more common.”

Though rare, magicians are occasionally seen. But sorcery? Even Enkrid, who traveled all over the continent, had never seen it. It was that rare.

“You’re not wrong.”

Rem said, tidying up his sleeping area. He roughly rolled up his blanket and pushed it aside, put on his boots, and stepped outside.

Enkrid followed him out.

It was the same today. He didn’t feel bored. No matter what today was like, it was always a pleasant day for Enkrid. Following him out, Rem continued.

“Sorcery requires a medium. I know magic sometimes needs a medium too, but for sorcery, the sacrifice or medium is incredibly important. Without it, sorcery can’t even begin.”

“Did your tribe use those things?”

Rem was from the western frontier. The reason that area became a frontier was because the central continental empire won a war. Before that, the west was the land of the nomadic tribes. This was over a hundred years ago.

Now it was firmly the western frontier, and the western nomadic tribes had been assimilated as one ethnic group. They were still called barbarians derogatorily, but sorcery originated from the west. That was common knowledge.

“I’ve seen it a few times. But you know there are very few true sorcerers, right? The ones wandering the continent are all charlatans, charlatans.”

If Rem said so, it must be true.

Enkrid nodded and went back to his work.

“Where are you going?”

“Training.”

He went to meet Ragna to further hone his basics. Around the two-hundred-fiftieth day of repeating today, Ragna said.

“Were your basics always this solid?”

He saw Ragna’s red pupils widen as he brushed back his blonde hair.

“It seems you originally focused on the longsword.”

Yes, that’s probably right. He had been training with this sword all this time. It felt awkward, but it fit his hand. Though it was his first time wielding it, this process had repeated many times. It was the familiarity gained through repeated days.

“It’s time for real combat.”

After the training, Ragna said. Enkrid nodded in agreement.

“What are you doing? They’re calling us.”

Rem called them. On the way back, Enkrid got some bread from Kraiss and chewed it. He soaked the hard bread in water, chewed, and swallowed it, and also got some jerky to eat. He checked his equipment and stood on the battlefield again. With the longsword he exchanged with Ragna swinging at his waist, Rem asked.

“Didn’t you say the sword you used was expensive?”

“This one feels more familiar.”

“I’ve seen many guys who switched weapons overnight and ended up dead.”

Was that a curse or a concern?

“Worry about yourself.”

Exhaling deeply, he steeled himself. He couldn’t rely solely on the Heart of the Beast for courage. If it’s a real fight, it should serve as a step towards ‘tomorrow.’ Enkrid thought before the enemy came into view.

‘Sorcery requires a medium.’

That medium was extremely important according to Rem.

If the enemy’s presence in the tall grass wasn’t an ambush but concealment?

If they had something to hide?

Enkrid had already seen it. A pole and a flag. When he set fire to one tent, they were more concerned with putting out the fire than killing the intruder. Soon the enemy came into view. A soldier from the third squad next to him frowned as he held his spear.

“What’s with their formation?”

If the formation centered around the pole, it had no tactical value. Then it must have purely sorcery value. Six poles with flags rose among the enemy. They were mediums for sorcery.

“Huh!”

Fog spread, obscuring his vision. Now, let’s swim through the sorcery fog.

Enkrid’s ears twitched.

His keen hearing, acquired from Jaxon, would take the place of his eyes.