A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Torres still demonstrated exceptional skill.

When sparring with him, Encrid lost seven out of ten times.

“You’ve improved.” Torres remarked, standing still while catching his breath.

A sudden question arose.

What would happen if they fought with real swords?

Encrid didn’t know. He wasn’t the type to be certain about fights.

No matter how skilled one was with a sword, a person would die if their heart was pierced by a dagger held by a seven-year-old.

Regardless of skill, the outcome of a life-and-death battle was uncertain.

“Is that so?” Encrid replied while lying on the ground, then sprang to his feet.

“Next is me.”

“Come in.”

Despite it being a season where one’s breath could be seen, the vacant lot behind the inn was filled with sweat and heat.

Encrid didn’t know how it had come to this, but he ended up fighting only with Torres.

It was a series of sparring matches.

For Encrid, it was valuable time.

Torres and the Border Guard were adept at unorthodox attacks.

But that didn’t mean their basic skills were lacking.

A guard, holding a broken twig in both hands, spoke.

“I specialize in daggers. Be careful not to get hurt.”

Two twigs, each about half the length of a forearm.

“We both need to be careful.”

“That’s right, let’s both be careful.”

The guard chuckled. Within his laughter was a visible enthusiasm, devoid of malice but full of pure competitiveness.

Smack!

The twigs clashed, and Encrid fought again.

After exchanging a few moves, Encrid expected the opponent to close the distance.

Instead, the opponent crossed the short twigs he held in place of daggers to catch Encrid’s sword, twisting and deflecting it.

He then threw one of the twigs at Encrid’s torso, disrupting his balance.

“In a real fight, that would’ve hit your eye.”

He spoke. This man was exceptional, nearly on par with Torres.

Encrid understood why the Border Guard received special treatment.

Encrid nodded silently. Another defeat.

It was time for a short break.

Naturally, everyone rested.

Jaxon leaned against the door connecting the vacant lot to the inn. As Encrid entered, Jaxon spoke.

“If the opponent has a dagger, you shouldn’t just focus on closing the distance. Will you only fight with basic skills just because your fundamentals are strong? If the opponent is crawling on the ground, is striking with your sword the only answer? Why not kick him?”

Whether he won or lost, Jaxon always offered guidance. It might seem like nagging to some, but not to Encrid.

He listened attentively.

“I didn’t expect him to use such a technique with a dagger.”

“His usual weapon is probably a sword breaker.”

A Sword Breaker, a sword with a saw-like back edge meant for breaking the opponent’s weapon. In other words, this man specialized in breaking his opponent’s weapons.

“You did well not to give up distance, but you should’ve also considered what to do next.”

Jaxon meticulously reviewed the events of the sparring session.

Encrid always gave his best.

If he had given up distance, he would’ve simply been overpowered. That’s why he didn’t.

Thanks to that, he saw how a Sword Breaker technique was used.

What he did well, Jaxon acknowledged.

“Think about how to counter such techniques.”

Mastering the basics of swordsmanship, training the body, learning techniques, and ingraining them into muscle memory—all of that was important.

But dealing with what happened during a sparring match required his own contemplation.

That was Jaxon’s advice.

Encrid agreed.

Repeating the same action hundreds of times was the only way to truly master it.

To make anything his own, he had to ponder it deeply.

Reflection and contemplation.

Those were Encrid’s true weapons.

And so he did.

“After the break, it’s my turn.”

Another guard, adept with both sword and kicks, stepped forward. He didn’t just step, but always mixed in kicks.

He was tricky to deal with, but Encrid learned a lot from him.

All six Border Guards, including Torres, sparred with him in turn.

Each had similar techniques but also showcased unique skills.

They had individual styles, but their basics were exceptional. There was much to learn.

In the past, such sparring wouldn’t have been much help.

It was inevitable.

One cannot appreciate the view from the summit without climbing the mountain.

But now, it is different.

‘More on Focus Point.’

The technique learned from Ragna was proving its worth. The Heart of the Beast provided a foundation of boldness.

“Keep your senses sharp at all times.”

Jaxon said, “Keep your senses sharp.”

Encrid nodded.

Leona approached him as he was sweating.

“You must really like it.” she said.

“Like what?”

“Sword fighting.”

“Does it seem that way?”

“Yes.”

Leona often initiated conversations. Though they were trivial, to Encrid, it felt like a spider observing its prey, never leaving it alone.

‘A spider with that appearance is a bit of a stretch.’ he thought.

She was undoubtedly a beauty that anyone would turn to look at.

“Is it because of the Fairy Company Commander? You seem indifferent to a woman’s appearance.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Then, are you saying I’m not your type?”

There was a playful look on her face, making him wonder what she meant by that question.

“It seems rare for a man to ignore a lady as beautiful as Lady Leona, don’t you think?”

Though he spoke indirectly, Encrid was implying he wasn’t interested.

After their trivial conversation, Leona would smile modestly and sit next to the Company Commander.

“Be careful. He has a history with women.”

Then, the Company Commander would spew nonsense.

Leona would laugh at her words.

Could she understand the Fairy’s jokes?

The jokes that made Encrid uncomfortable continuously amused Leona.

“You are the wittiest Fairy I’ve ever met.” she said.

“I hear that often.” she replied.

From where, exactly?

While preparing for another bout, Encrid almost twisted his ankle. Keeping his senses sharp, he overheard their conversation. Their voices were loud enough to be heard even without paying close attention.

“There are even rumors that we have a child together.”

“What?”

“There are people in the unit who believe that.”

Wouldn’t saying such things only deepen the misunderstanding? He worried, but Leona laughed it off. Whether she believed it or not was unclear.

“Aren’t you going to fight? Are you tired now?”

Encrid looked at those waiting for him and set aside his worries. Rumors would spread regardless.

After Leona’s sudden confession, worse rumors were bound to spread.

“The charming Squad Leader.”

Those guarding outside frequently referred to him that way.

“The charming Squad Leader who broke spells.”

“The charming Squad Leader who can’t leave women alone.”

He was getting tired of hearing it.

“Am I really a ‘charming Squad Leader’?” he asked.

Even Jaxon had used the term.

“Huh?”

“All the guards are only looking at the Squad Leader.”

Indeed, it turned out that way somehow.

For an entire day, they sparred like mad.

At first, the awkward atmosphere around them had completely dissipated. They all bonded through their swords and sweat.

As a result, Encrid ended up with bruises all over his body.

“Does it hurt?” the one who had hit him asked.

Encrid shook his head.

“No.”

The strike he received a while ago was perfect. He kept replaying it in his mind.

To counter an overhead strike, pretending to block from below while cutting the opponent’s forearm.

Instantaneous judgment, the ability to time it, and boldness.

These necessary elements naturally came to mind.

It was an embodiment of an experience he had never encountered before.

‘Ah.’

Encrid was once again filled with exhilaration.

He was intoxicated by the current events.

Sometimes the Company Commander would step in and do something resembling wrestling.

Occasionally, Leona would speak to her.

“I’m envious. I should have learned that too.”

She said this while watching the Company Commander grab and hang onto someone’s arm, applying pressure to their joint.

Encrid, on the other hand, was busy trying to stay upright and endure the technique.

“Utilize wrestling, soldier.” the Company Commander would add.

Whether it was because they saw Encrid listening to Jaxon’s advice or out of pure goodwill, he wasn’t sure.

He didn’t need to question it, so Encrid maintained a listening posture.

“Your left-right balance is quite off. Does anyone help you with your physical training?”

It wasn’t just the Company Commander. The Border Guards were the same.

He heard the same things from the Border Guards that Audin had mentioned.

The difference in left-right balance.

It could be attributed to being right-handed, of course.

“The first step to reaching human limits is training all your muscles. Your strength is commendable.”

Torres also offered advice.

“You only thought about closing the distance because it was a dagger, right? Try making it seem like you want to draw them into closer combat. What would your opponent think then? Plant a demon in their mind.”

How to complicate the opponent’s thoughts.

“You have a bad habit. Deceiving your opponent is good, but you must not lose the basics. Where is your center of gravity?”

They also pointed out mistakes he made during the sparring.

Encrid didn’t know how it ended up like this, but he was completely immersed, listening to everything intently. He listened and listened with an attentive posture.

It was different from sparring with his squad members.

Did he seem to be enjoying it?

“Will you spar with me as well?”

A fencer from Pollid stepped forward, loosening his rapier from its sheath and setting it aside.

Encrid nodded reflexively.

It was exactly what he wanted.

“You’re an interesting fellow. Sparring during a mission.”

“I prefer to spend my time valuably.”

During a guard mission, there was bloodshed over a succession issue within a large merchant group.

Even in such a situation, Encrid held and swung his sword.

He had to.

Others’ time and Encrid’s time were different.

Those with talent and those without cannot be equal. Therefore, those who need to make up for their lack will always find time insufficient.

* * *

The fencer with the rapier found this intriguing.

‘One doesn’t improve their skills in real-time.’

He is a soldier with the charm of drawing people in.

The relationship change between Encrid and the Border Guards is particularly interesting.

The initial wariness between strangers had melted away, giving way to friendliness. It was a remarkable sight to witness.

‘A rare talent.’

However, it was not in swordsmanship. His current skill level was his limit. This was evident to the fencer, the owner of the rapier.

Encrid’s talent lay elsewhere.

Having encountered many talented individuals, the fencer could surmise this.

If Encrid’s dream was to become a knight, he would immediately shake his head.

Nevertheless.

Regardless of his talent.

‘I would still like to teach him.’

His passion was endless. He didn’t let any words slip by.

While his talent was poor, he possessed a different kind of intense passion.

It was a skill to inspire those around him with his enthusiasm.

The instructors who had taught Encrid so far felt something similar.

Even knowing it was futile, they ended up trying to impart what they had to Encrid. They taught and taught again.

It was a passion and spirit as if the word ‘give up’ didn’t exist.

“Will you spar with me as well?”

That made him step forward and open his mouth.

“Huh?”

The colleague who came with him looked at him in surprise. He himself was surprised.

After all, they were enemies.

Stepping forward here might seem foolish.

Moreover, it would be even more foolish if the opponent refused.

The problem was that he hadn’t considered any of this until he spoke up.

Encrid nodded.

“Now?”

His arms were bruised, and his body was soaked in sweat. He exuded heat that blew away the cold wind in the vacant lot. Steam rose from his shoulders. He must have been tired.

Winning or losing wasn’t important.

The man simply enjoyed sparring purely.

“Good.”

The fencer said without realizing it.

* * *

Jaxon doubted the fencer’s intentions.

The Company Commander nodded with interest.

All the Border Guards were ready to cut him down if things went south.

They wouldn’t stand by if something happened to Encrid.

And Encrid…

‘Quick sword.’

He was busy visualizing the opponent’s sword in his mind.

How should he react?

What fighting style would give him the highest chance of winning?

Could he win?

“Don’t overthink it!”

Rem had said he had never seen a pup survive if it fought with victory and defeat in mind.

Rather than doubting victory or defeat,

“Have confidence. That’s the first thing.”

Sharpen the knife of confidence.

The Heart of the Beast instills boldness.

Encrid raised the tip of the twig, pointing it at the sky.

He focused as if gripping a sword with both hands.

In an instant, the surroundings changed. His concentration flared, transforming the area into the middle of a battlefield.

He saw the armor covering his opponent’s body.

He saw the thin sword in his opponent’s hand.

If he couldn’t dodge, he would die.

Engrossed in this sudden thought, Encrid dove into the moment.

[T/L: Please support me here: /revengerscans ]