A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

It meant that his body couldn’t keep up, and it was true.

Encrid was not born with talent. He lived by adding only hard work to his dull body.

However, he had met countless instructors, learned swordsmanship, and had time to ponder alone.

His thinking was flexible, and his adaptability was excellent.

The initial learning was difficult, but once he mastered it and entered actual combat, it was different. In fact, one is born with some talent.

Flexibility and adaptability, that was Encrid’s talent.

‘Use whatever fits the situation and need.’

By the standards of the Kingdom of Naurillia, he was at least intermediate.

In the mercenary world, he was also intermediate.

His skill level was average wherever he went, that was Encrid’s current position.

But aside from skill, his combat power in real situations was excellent.

He had lived a life with minimal talent.

Encrid knew how to make full use of what he had.

A soldier’s spearhead flies toward him.

His sharpened ears hear the swoosh of the spear cutting through the air.

It wasn’t as precise as what he could see, but he caught the direction. He pictured the opponent’s movements in his mind.

‘A step to the side.’

Encrid stepped aside. The Heart of the Beast brought him boldness. He put strength in his left heel and moved his right foot back, turning his body.

With that move, the spearhead whizzed past his face.

Even though the spearhead suddenly flew out of the fog, Encrid wasn’t flustered.

There was no need to be.

It was a spear that had already stabbed him to death dozens of times.

He had avoided the first spear thrust over two hundred times.

Instead of drawing his sword, Encrid grabbed the middle of the spear shaft and pulled.

The enemy soldier, dragged by the sudden force, opened his mouth in surprise.

“Huh?”

The enemy soldier’s head emerged from the fog, and Encrid grabbed it and twisted.

Crack.

The soldier’s neck broke. A person with a broken neck cannot survive.

As the soldier with the broken neck crumbled to the ground, Encrid picked up the dead soldier’s spear.

Before the fog spread in his mind, he recalled the enemy’s formation.

They were all clustered together.

‘No matter where I throw it, I’ll hit someone.’

He stomped the ground with his left foot and threw the spear with all his might.

The spear cut through the air and with a thud, it lodged into something.

“Ugh!”

A death cry was heard.

“What the…?”

“Crazy!”

The sounds of the enemy soldiers’ confusion.

Encrid, listening carefully after throwing the spear, ducked low and charged forward.

Even if someone could see through the fog, it would be hard to spot someone rushing in low to the ground.

Thud thud thud!

Crossbow bolts and arrows flew over his head.

“Argh!”

“Ugh!”

“Damn, arrows!”

From behind, the screams and curses of his allies erupted. His hair might have stood on end, but it was fine. He had done this many times before.

In fact, the lack of tension was more of a problem. Encrid closed the distance and drew his longsword.

He gauged the distance by sound, and it was precise.

Swish!

He drew his sword, held it with both hands, and performed a modified upper horizontal slash.

The original upper horizontal slash was a technique where you block the opponent’s sword with your guard and slash with the back edge.

Encrid altered it as he pleased.

The stance was similar.

Holding the sword above his crown parallel to the ground, he changed his grip.

It was a thumb-raised saber grip.

In that position, he drew a circle with his sword.

Due to his crouched posture, the upper horizontal slash became a lower horizontal slash.

It was an unconventional stance, so the sword didn’t carry as much force.

But it was an unexpected strike.

The enemy couldn’t react in time.

Swish!

Thud! Thwack!

He felt resistance as the blade cut through.

“Ack!”

“What the hell!”

“On the ground!”

‘Well, you noticed quickly, didn’t you?’

Breaking through the fog and rising up, Encrid saw the enemy soldiers.

Even though his field of vision was limited to the range of his sword, it was something.

He saw the enemy, their weapons, and his own sword.

The situation is different now.

Three of them had been severely slashed in the shins. They were all limping, bleeding heavily, and armed with crossbows.

One of them gritted his teeth and aimed his crossbow.

Encrid moved swiftly.

He stepped diagonally forward with his left foot, his right foot following.

In an instant, his position changed.

The bolt flew past where he had been.

Encrid didn’t just dodge the bolt.

At the same time, he attempted a downward slash from above.

The heavy longsword descended from above.

The enemy soldier with the crossbow reflexively drew a shortsword and tried to block it, forming a cross with the longsword.

Encrid pressed down with his strength.

Clang! Crack!

Unable to withstand the force, the opposite blade of the shortsword pressed into the leather helmet and sank into the enemy’s head.

It wasn’t so much a cut as it was a crushing blow.

Crunch.

The enemy, head shattered and frothing blood, fell backward. Blood poured from the deeply indented leather helmet, creating a red curtain in front of the soldier’s face.

“Guh, guh.”

The enemy soldier with the shattered head couldn’t speak, falling on his backside, his vision blurring.

Encrid withdrew his sword, taking a step back and turning his body. In an instant, he moved a step to the side.

A soldier’s short spear whizzed past where he had just been.

The spearhead grazed his left side, tearing his cloth armor slightly. And that was all.

After dodging, he thrust his sword.

Not quickly, but slowly.

The soldier who had swung the spear reflexively pulled back and blocked the blade with the spear shaft.

Thnk.

The sword and spear shaft met.

In that position, the sword started to glide down the spear shaft.

With a forward step, he followed through with a bind and subsequent slash.

Scrrr!

The sound of the spear shaft being shaved down was heard.

Thud!

The sword’s destination was the enemy soldier’s chest. In an instant, the blade had traveled down the spear shaft and slashed open the soldier’s chest.

Flesh was cut, and bones were shattered. When he pulled out his sword, blood spurted out.

A stream of blood soaked Encrid’s chest.

In a slightly crouched position, he retrieved his sword and stood up.

With a flick, he straightened his knees and stood tall.

What he had learned so far were the basics. It was a time to discard bad habits and build anew. To be honest, he had just barely returned to his previous level.

However, having now trained in the basics of swordsmanship, what he had was completely different.

It was like adding wings to a lion.

Encrid’s flexible thinking produced results beyond his skill level.

His blood-soaked sword moved among the remaining soldiers. Encrid silently performed his sword dance.

* * *

Six banner units.

The commander of the Duchy of Aspen pondered.

‘Even if they realize it’s magic, they won’t know which of those six to take down.’

Victory was assured. Now it was time to decide what kind of victory to achieve.

“Cut off their retreat.”

The Gray Hound unit, which had been held as an independent reserve, moved.

It was behind the Naurillia Kingdom’s army.

Now, if the enemies, startled by the fog, tried to flee, they would run into the Gray Hound unit. The commander gave the order and reviewed his strategy for any flaws.

There were none.

General Frog had come and emphasized that failure was not an option for this mission.

If it weren’t for that, a general wouldn’t have come to this battlefield.

The commander gave the order again.

“Kill them all.”

This battle would change the fortunes of Aspen and Naurillia.

As his order was given, Encrid was performing his sword dance with the First Banner Unit.

* * *

“Damn it!”

The battalion commander of Naurillia thought he was in a nightmare.

‘We were outplayed.’

If the enemy had something prepared, so did they.

But if they lost all their troops here, their preparations would be for nothing.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

Cries for retreat echoed from all around.

The battalion commander was anything but calm.

“Ugh!”

Even as his allies retreated, crossbow bolts flew at them.

‘Damn those crossbow units!’

The battalion commander felt a surge of dizziness.

He marveled at how they managed to hide so many crossbows.

Where? The scout report had already provided the answer.

‘The Tall Grass Field!’

Now was not the time to be thinking about this idly.

The battalion commander’s mind escaped reality.

“Get a grip! Regroup!”

Two somewhat skilled company commanders tried to rally the troops, but the enemy’s skill was exceptional.

The unit moving in from behind was the Gray Hound.

An independent company, the pride of Aspen’s forces.

The battalion commander realized they had been outmaneuvered.

He desperately tried to pull himself together.

“It’s the Fog of Annihilation! Aspen’s forces have employed a sorcerer!”

Damn bastards.

“How do we clear the fog?”

Few of his subordinates had an answer.

“Bring someone who knows!”

They couldn’t see ahead, and the enemy was pounding their allies from both front and back.

At this rate, they could be annihilated.

No, they would be annihilated.

Soon, a subordinate brought the answer.

“We need to destroy the medium of the spell!”

The medium? The banner.

“Charge towards the banner!”

The battalion commander shouted.

“…We don’t know which direction the banner is.”

The lieutenant uttered words of despair.

The enemy they initially saw had shifted positions like clockwork. They spun around in circles, making it impossible to pinpoint their location.

The battalion commander couldn’t shake the word ‘annihilation’ from his mind.

While the battalion commander was agonizing, the fairy company commander, in charge of the 4th company, realized the enemy wouldn’t let them retreat easily.

Her prediction was correct, and that wasn’t a good thing.

‘Without a turnaround, we’ll all die.’

She thought a new wind was needed on the battlefield, but ultimately, that wind didn’t come.

The battle ended in a crushing defeat.

The fairy company commander barely survived, escaping death by a hair.

As she fled, the fog lifted behind her. It was annihilation. There couldn’t have been fifty survivors among their allies.

* * *

Clang!

Encrid had fought well. Incredibly well, and he was satisfied.

Though his allies were nearly annihilated, he alone had taken down nearly twenty soldiers.

Blood flowed from his hand gripping the sword.

His forearm had been slashed in the recent battle.

‘My strength is fading.’

Up until now, he had only invested time in basic training.

Ragna had told him not to spar until he had eliminated all his bad habits and completed his training.

Then he immediately added,

“Not something you should say on a battlefield.”

Even Ragna must have realized how nonsensical it sounded.

Telling someone not to fight to correct bad habits in the middle of a battlefield.

What then? Just die quietly?

But Encrid managed.

Instead of quietly surrendering his life, he excluded combat from his considerations.

And today, for the first time, he demonstrated his skills in actual combat.

‘It’s different.’

Until now, whether it was Valen Mercenary Sword Technique or anything else, he fought using any means necessary. That was how he had survived. And that hasn’t changed.

The difference now was that swordsmanship had become central to his fighting.

‘I want to learn more.’

His desire for learning surged even more. He didn’t want to end with just the basics.

Having killed the equivalent of two squads on his own, the enemy soldiers hesitated to approach him.

For some reason, as he held his ground, Encrid’s vision cleared further.

The fog created by sorcery no longer affected him. He could see the enemy forming a semicircle before him.

They all held crossbows.

“Let’s fight one-on-one, like real men.”

He spoke to test the skills he had gained through his basics one more time.

“Crazy bastard.”

The one who appeared to be the enemy squad leader said.

Thwip!

The crossbows released their bolts. Quarrels embedded themselves all over his body.

The quarrel lodged in his eye brought excruciating pain.

‘It’s agonizing.’

But it also brought a sense of joy.

As he lay dying, Encrid thought about what he had to do amidst the repeated events of today.

Ragna constantly emphasized the basics.

“Train and train again, and keep fighting with your life on the line, and someday, it will stick to you.”

It was a very irresponsible statement, but it had meaning.

Encrid needed more real combat.

The word ‘death’ settled over his entire body.

Before he took his last breath, an enemy soldier looked down at him and said,

“Persistent bastard.”

Even until then, Encrid was gripping his sword tightly. The blood he had shed pooled on the ground.

“No matter what happens, even if you die, do not let go of your sword. That is the first thing.”

Countless instructors had said this, Ragna had said it, and Rem had said the same thing.

Encrid had done just that.

“Ptuh!”

An enemy soldier, who had lost countless comrades, spat on Encrid’s face.

And that was the end.

* * *

Morning dawns.

A new day begins again.

Encrid reflected on what he had gained from yesterday’s fight.

‘I need more real combat.’

That was the conclusion he reached.

He sought out Ragna again to learn.

“Your basics are pretty well established, but you seem like someone who has trained alone all their life. Where did you learn the basics of swordsmanship?”

That was true. He felt it himself. What he needed now was actual combat.

“From here and there.”

“…From here and there? Well, let’s go with that. It’s good to make what you’ve learned in training come out naturally through sparring. And whoever your teacher was, they taught you well.”

That teacher was you.

Ragna unwittingly praised himself.

Encrid responded with a “Really?” and focused on sparring.

And how enjoyable it was.

In the battles that followed, Encrid single-handedly slew thirty soldiers.

It wasn’t solely by skill. There were bolts and arrows flying at him.

He achieved it by dodging them skillfully. He had to use his wits to increase his combat experience even a little.

He repeated several more days. And he swung his sword again.

Soon, what was called the basics stuck perfectly to his body.

“In terms of fundamentals, there’s nothing more I can teach you.”

Eventually, Ragna had to admit this, as Encrid’s skills had significantly improved.

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