A Knight who Eternally Regresses - Chapter 92

Chapter 92: The Fine Line Between Brilliance and Madness

Enkrid was tending to his boots and gloves, carefully polishing his sword with an oil-soaked cloth. The recent extermination of the beast horde had attracted merchants, and that meant Enkrid was getting a new sword.

The broken sword’s material, Vallerian Steel, had been melted down and mixed with Noirian Wrought Iron. It was a blend of two of the finest steels recognized across the continent.

“No one but me could’ve done this,” the blacksmith had boasted loudly.

He had every right to. While he couldn’t forge magical swords, his skill in working with metal was almost as good as a wizard’s.

Within the Border Guard Fortress City, he was considered a master craftsman. Of course, some might say he was only famous within the city, but still, that was something.

In the end, it was this craftsman who had forged Enkrid’s new sword. Even Ragna, who was notoriously picky about weapons, gave a half-nod of approval.

“It’s decent enough, though it wouldn’t suit me,” Ragna had said, adding his usual snide comment.

Enkrid, now finishing the polishing, flicked his finger against the blade.

Ping.

A clear, resonant note rang out. For Enkrid, this was the first sword worthy of being called a masterwork. How could he not be satisfied?

Ragna, on the other hand, wasn’t easily impressed and would use whatever piece of metal he could get his hands on.

Once, when a tooth had chipped off his arming sword, he couldn’t be bothered to sharpen it himself, so Enkrid had done it for him. If it weren’t for that, Ragna would have kept using the chipped blade as it was.

“Esther, that’s not a toy.”

Enkrid finished cleaning the sword and gently coaxed Esther. After killing the necrophiliac wizard in the sewers, there were a few items they had brought back.

Enkrid had already told Kraiss that they planned to sell them. One of those items was particularly troublesome to deal with in the back alleys, so they still had it.

“It’s bound in human skin. Was there really a wizard in the sewers?” Kraiss had asked when Enkrid handed over the items. The way he asked, it sounded like he didn’t believe they had killed the sewer wizard.

“You didn’t believe us?”

“I believed you, but now I believe you a little more.”

…That sounded like he hadn’t believed them.

“Anyway, that one’s hard to sell, but I managed to sell the staff and the rest.”

According to Kraiss, there were many people in the world who wanted rare items. Enkrid wasn’t interested in that field.

So they had sold the black wooden staff and a few stones. The staff was a crude item made by the wizard. The stones were related to alchemy, but nothing particularly impressive.

Enkrid took the promised payment from the Gielpin Guild, along with the reward for killing the wizard and the money from selling the items, and poured it all into the new sword.

The Noirian Wrought Iron had been incredibly expensive, but Enkrid didn’t regret the cost.

‘It would’ve been nice to have a bit more Valerian Steel.’

“That’s a lot of money for just one sword,” Kraiss had remarked, but Enkrid was satisfied. For a man who made his living by the sword, nothing was more important than a good weapon.

Even if it was considered a consumable, in a battle where one’s life was at stake, the superiority of a weapon could make all the difference. Saving money wasn’t an option.

“This will do just fine.”

The only thing left was the grimoire. It was covered in human skin, which made Enkrid uncomfortable, so he wrapped it in a thin cloth and stored it away. That’s when Esther found it and brought it back to its spot.

What would happen if she decided to pee on it?

A grimoire was a wizard’s treasure, a book where they recorded and stored all the knowledge they had gathered over their lifetime. The name alone— “Grimoire of the Way of Magic”— suggested how important it was.

And here was Esther, using it as a mat.

‘Should I just leave it like this?’

At least it didn’t seem like she would urinate on it.

Esther never relieved herself in front of the squad. Whether it was a feline instinct or something else, she always went off somewhere hidden to take care of it.

She also bathed frequently. Enkrid decided not to worry about the grimoire anymore. He didn’t know how much it was worth, but whenever he tried to reach for it,

“Hiss!”

Esther would hiss at him, a rare display of aggression.

“Leave it be. Looks like she’s comfortable,” Rem chimed in from the side, and Enkrid could only nod in agreement.

And so, the wizard’s dying legacy was converted into a sword, and Enkrid continued to train diligently. He began his days even earlier than before, rising before the sun.

As a Platoon Leader, he only had to serve on duty once every ten days. Typically, this duty involved unexpected inspections of patrols or sentries, lasting anywhere from four to six hours.

Not having to perform regular duties freed up more time, allowing him to start his day even earlier than before. Enkrid’s day now began two hours before the rest of the soldiers.

“Grr.”

One morning, after gently placing Esther down, Enkrid stepped outside. The cold had not yet fully receded, and the pre-dawn air carried a biting wind.

Wasn’t there a word for this kind of wind? A biting, cold wind. Enkrid began by regulating his breathing. He started with the Isolation Technique.

He moved his body to generate heat, using heavy stone-made equipment to place stress on his muscles.

As his body warmed up, Audin emerged from his quarters and stood beside Enkrid, also beginning the Isolation Technique.

“Good morning, Platoon Leader brother.”

Was this a sign of respect?

The title “Platoon Leader” was now added before “brother.” Hearing it reminded Enkrid of the Company Commander’s promise to fill the squad with new members.

“Focus.”

As his thoughts wandered, Audin quickly admonished him.

“Got it.”

He couldn’t afford to let his mind drift; the technique required concentration. The focus on breathing and muscle control was what Audin always emphasized.

Enkrid did just that.

He continued the process of conditioning his body over and over again. It wasn’t just about practicing the Isolation Technique, his determination to refine what he had learned remained unchanged.

‘Heart of the Beast, Blade Sense, Focus Point, and Isolation Technique.’

He thought about the Vallen Style swordsmanship he had originally mastered and its applications.

Being able to assess an opponent’s level of training and special skills by observing their body. Predicting attacks based on intuition and instinct.

Then, there was the mercenary swordsmanship he had originally practiced.

‘Should I integrate it, or discard it?’

There was no need to discard it. That was the conclusion Enkrid reached. How one utilized what they had was up to their individual ability.

‘If the ability is lacking, then it needs to be developed.’

Boldness was always necessary. Its value was proven in keeping one’s eyes open at critical moments. Enkrid considered the Heart of the Beast to be the foundation of everything.

‘Stay calm.’

Some days, he trained his intuition. Other days, he combined his senses with focus.

‘Engrave it into my body.’

Each sword swing was imbued with a myriad of experiences. He would grasp it instinctively, recognize it mentally, and then hammer it back into his body.

Of course, it wasn’t easy.

Through this process, Enkrid gradually solidified his own patterns and methods.

‘Training alone isn’t enough.’

What he needed was real combat. Training and practice had to be combined with real combat.

Ideally,

‘Combat where my life is on the line.’

“You know, I mentioned before that fighting for your life and surviving leaves you with a lot to gain. However, since you only have one life, it doesn’t make sense to build your skills that way.”

Rem had once jokingly said this, but it was the truth. Now, Enkrid understood the importance of real combat where his life was at stake.

Of course, it wasn’t about dying. It was about overcoming death repeatedly. Knowing the importance of real combat, Enkrid began accepting missions.

From small, trivial tasks to more dangerous ones. He didn’t discriminate.

“What exactly did you want me to find?”

“My cat, please.”

This was a request from a noblewoman. Was it wrong for the unit to take on such a mission?

No, they did it because it was necessary. Enkrid didn’t turn down any request. In any situation, at any moment,

‘Everything contributes to training.’

He repeated this to himself and genuinely believed it. Enkrid found the cat perched up in a tree.

“Let’s go quietly.”

The cat looked ready to flee. Enkrid could sense it with his intuition and instinct. Ridiculous as it may seem, even this was a revelation.

He manipulated the cat’s instincts to get it to move as he intended. By emitting a subtle killing intent and aura, he forced the cat to leap down from the tree.

Then, he caught it in his arms, subduing it with his gaze. Even something like this was now possible.

“It’s because you’ve opened the Gate of the Sixth Sense.”

Jaxon had added that comment. By now, Jaxon no longer harassed Enkrid at random. The phase of tormenting him with murderous intent had passed.

It was meaningless now. The missions ranged from finding a cat, to something more serious.

“There’s a rumor that someone robbed a store and hid in the city.”

This was another request. Some drifter had come into the city and pulled off a clumsy crime.

“Find him.”

When they had taken over the Gielpin Guild, Enkrid hadn’t anticipated using it like this. But Kraiss, who had likely foreseen this, skillfully handled the necessary tasks.

It was a back-alley gambling den. The culprit was a retired soldier with a scar on his forehead.

“You wanna fight me? Shit, I’ve seen it all coming to this backwater. You think the Border Guard’s regulars are tough? Bring it on.”

Confidence, maybe even some skill to back it up, but it was not enough.

It was a good opportunity to test Enkrid’s growing ability to assess opponents. Pretending to struggle, he gauged his opponent’s skills.

‘At best, he’s mid-rank, maybe high-rank.’

Based on the Naurillian military ranking system, that’s what he estimated. Nothing exceptional.

“Gasp, gasp… What the hell are you?”

“Border Guard regular.”

With that, he broke the man’s leg and dragged him in. The captured man would be locked up in the unit’s prison. Unless someone paid his fine, he would never see the light of day again.

“Just you wait.”

He said it, but it was unlikely they would meet again. There were also times when Enkrid was dispatched to break up fights between trading company escorts at inns.

One of them had been quite skilled. Sparring with him, Enkrid trained by combining Focus Point and Blade Sense.

Focusing while keeping the Gate of the Sixth Sense open. He had done it a few times before, but this time he realized something new.

The difference in focus changed a lot.

‘It’s slowing down.’

Not as much as before, but his opponent’s sword seemed to slow. It was because he moved exactly as Enkrid had predicted.

It was because the difference in perception speed was apparent. Everything was a continuous cycle of training and more training.

After handling various requests,

“Are you insane with these missions?”

People in the unit started talking. It wasn’t criticism.

“Do you have ten bodies? Don’t you ever rest? Why don’t you rest?”

“He’s not human. He’s not.”

It was more amazement than criticism, and more admiration than amazement.

“No wonder he became a Platoon Leader.”

“Damn it, I should start waking up early and practicing my spear.”

Thanks to Enkrid, there was an unexpected surge of enthusiasm for training. He had proven himself through his skills.

His reputation among the soldiers was strong. He had risen to Platoon Leader, a position reserved for high-rank soldiers and above. Some soldiers even owed their lives to him.

All these factors combined to create a wave of training fervor within the unit. Soldiers were getting up earlier and working on their conditioning.

Enkrid didn’t pay much attention to it. He was too busy focusing on his own path. As he trained, Enkrid felt a subtle fire burning in his chest.

How had he once approached the battlefield?

While he hadn’t been afraid, he certainly hadn’t enjoyed it. The battlefield had never been something he looked forward to.

‘This doesn’t seem normal.’

But now he found himself eagerly anticipating it. He wanted to fight, to prove himself, to showcase his skills. He wanted to risk his life and cross the line between life and death again.

It was insane.

And then,

“Do you know there’s a fine line between brilliance and madness?”

Rem’s words echoed in his mind once more. If the path to greatness was only allowed for those who were mad, then madness was the way to go.

On a day filled with training and missions,

“It’d be fun to have another round.”

The Company Commander called Enkrid to her private training grounds and said,

“A duel?”

Of course, Enkrid didn’t refuse.

“Sounds good.”

The situation was the same as before. Would the result be the same? That remained to be seen.

Even now, Enkrid couldn’t fully gauge the Elf Company Commander’s skill level but he didn’t think he’d lose like before. Of course, this was something he’d only know by actually crossing blades or fists with her.

Soon, the Company Commander straightened her hand into a knife-like shape and said,

“Let’s use this today.”

This felt like another test. After all, it had been the Company Commander who had highlighted his weaknesses in their previous duel.

The close-quarters combat. The techniques they called wrestling. Enkrid nodded.

Soon, their hand blades clashed in the air.

Thud.

The short sound of impact served as their greeting.