A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

They had seen each other during the recent monster hunt too.

“Couldn’t we have been enemies instead?” Torres joked, referencing an old story, and Encrid responded.

There are two kinds of connections from past lives.

Ones that are destined to meet.

Or ones that are fated to be bad.

“We’re not having a bad fate, are we?” Torres said with a smirk.

“That’s true.”

The two men bumped fists.

Whatever awaited them ahead, familiar faces were better than unknown ones.

And so, they set out on their path.

Thud,thud.

Exiting the northern gate, they were greeted by a gravel path.

They were the only two leaving from the Border Guard.

“Is it just the two of us going?”

“We’re supposed to meet our allies’ scouts across the river.”

Was it not a particularly dangerous mission then?

Is that why they were sending just the two of them?

Encrid had various thoughts, but he didn’t voice them.

After all, Torres was in charge.

All he needed to know was what Torres told him.

And so, they set out at dawn.

By the time the morning sun rose, Encrid, who had been walking briskly, found the cloth shirt under his armor was damp.

Even though the cold hadn’t subsided, wearing full armor and walking made him sweat profusely.

He wore a sleeveless undershirt made of thin fabric, and over that, a thicker shirt with sleeves.

On top of that, he wore leather armor that protected against magic, and a whistle dagger sheath.

After putting on the gambeson, boots, and leather gauntlets, he was fully dressed.

He wore thin pants for better mobility, as thicker ones would hinder it.

He carried a thick-bladed dagger called a guard sword on his waist.

A newly acquired long sword hung on his left hip.

A short sword was on his right hip. And that wasn’t all.

In emergencies, the more weapons, the better. He concealed two knives on each ankle and carried two throwing knives on his left forearm.

Though they were called light infantry, it was heavy gear.

On top of that, there was one more piece of gear that was unusual.

“My left hand is free. I need to fix that.”

“It’s Ragna’s spell. Thanks to that, I’m carrying a buckler on my back.”

‘Couldn’t I use this as a pot if needed?’

In an emergency, it might be useful that way. If he removed the leather attached to the handle side, it would just be a thin piece of metal.

That was how unnecessary the load felt.

‘It can’t be helped.’

He had to do what he was told, at least for now.

He would try using the shield, and if it didn’t work out, he would think of something else.

“Whether it’s a sword and shield or just a sword, it’s time to move on. But first, we’ll balance things out.”

Ragna, who was usually lazy, became an exceptionally diligent instructor when teaching Encrid.

So, if asked if that bothered him,

‘Not at all.’

He was rather grateful.

Encrid walked while opening his sixth sense and scanning the surroundings, all the while recalling Ragna’s words.

It made for a curious sight if seen from the side.

Torres, on the other hand, seemed lightly armed with only two short swords crossed at his left hip.

He glanced sideways at Encrid and thought,

‘He’s keeping up well.’

Even with that heavy load, he followed without panting.

His eyes didn’t seem focused, but he reacted immediately to any movement around him.

‘What is he thinking about while walking?’

He became curious about that.

And it wasn’t the only thing he wondered about.

Torres had been on various missions before.

‘It’s actually a bit disappointing that he doesn’t ask anything.’

In situations like these, there were usually plenty of questions—what the mission was, its purpose, what they would do after crossing the river.

If Encrid asked, Torres already had his answer prepared.

‘We are soldiers. Don’t you think our job is just to follow orders?’

It would be a chance to say something stern.

But Encrid asked nothing at all.

“Straight ahead.”

Encrid opened his mouth. Torres threw a glance ahead.

They had been walking northwest along the river for a while.

Two soaking wet ghouls came into view.

Their remaining strands of hair clung to their pale heads like seaweed.

Hiding behind a large rock, they were watching this way. The color of their skin was so similar to the rock that one might miss them if not looking closely.

‘He spotted them before me?’

Was his intuition better than expected, or was he just as lucky as the rumors said?

It was hard to tell.

Anyway, monsters, enemies, had appeared.

“One each?”

“Let’s do that.”

At Torres’ words, Encrid took the lead to draw their attention.

He took the shield off his back and held it in his hand, then drew his longsword.

Swish.

‘Nice sound.’

Those who make a living with swords are always sensitive to the sound of their weapons. Torres was no different.

Instead of drawing his weapon, Torres measured the distance to the ghouls.

Ghouls’ claws were poisonous.

Was there really a need to get close?

As the two ghouls charged towards Encrid, Torres swiped his hand to his waist and extended it forward.

Step first, with his right foot firmly planting on the ground, followed by an elastic thrust from his elbow.

The weight from his fingers left his hand. The knife sliced through the air and embedded itself in the ghoul’s head.

Thud.

The head split halfway, and the blade bounced off to the side.

Ghouls lurking near the water are often half-rotten.

That explained the foul smell.

The blade split the decayed flesh and shattered the skull as it rebounded.

Torres, having thrown the knife, checked on Encrid.

There, he saw Encrid clumsily deflecting the ghoul’s claws with his shield and swinging his longsword.

The well-aimed sword severed the ghoul’s rotten neck with a clean cut.

Ghoul blood was black.

The headless body fell to its knees and collapsed forward, spewing black blood.

“Isn’t this area supposed to be almost free of monsters?”

Even though they were both Platoon leaders, one belonged to the Royal Guard Border Patrol.

Encrid had become a Platoon leader too, but he was certainly treated well.

“There can’t be none at all. Because of the pack of man-faced dogs recently, there probably haven’t been any troops to spare to patrol this area. But not too many should appear.”

Encrid silently nodded. Seeing that, Torres suddenly became curious.

“Aren’t you curious about where we’re going?”

“Across the river, isn’t it?”

“Feel free to speak comfortably. Whether you’re a Platoon leader in the Royal Guard or a regular unit, it’s all the same, isn’t it? We seem to be about the same age.”

“Thirty.”

“Well, then I’m younger.”

“So what.”

There was no reason to refuse such a suggestion.

“What’s your secret to looking young? After all we’ve been through on the battlefield, your face looks, well, it’s a bit unfair to me.”

On the surface, Torres looked older. Besides, he had a rather plain appearance.

One might even believe he was an innkeeper’s assistant.

As he spoke, Torres roughly cleaned the fallen dagger in the green and blue-tinged river water, then wiped it on his sleeve before putting it back in his pocket.

The knife seemed to disappear into his coat.

It seemed he had a special pocket for the knife, but to Encrid, it looked like it vanished in an instant.

“Endless training.”

Torres chuckled at Encrid’s response.

This guy was good with words.

He should’ve recruited him into his unit.

Thinking this, Torres got to the point.

“You know just crossing the river won’t be the end of it, right?”

Nod.

“But why aren’t you asking anything?”

“If I ask, will you tell me?”

No, he couldn’t. Torres didn’t know much detail either. It was all just speculation.

“It won’t be anything fun, will it?”

Encrid blinked as he spoke, and it looked like light was shining.

At least, that’s how it seemed to Torres.

It reminded him of the way Encrid looked when he said he wanted to fight more monsters.

‘Is this guy looking forward to it?’

Because the land across the river was known to be filled with monsters and beasts?

‘Strangely amusing.’

Torres also enjoyed the thrill of danger. But wasn’t this guy the same?

“Let’s go.”

The two walked diligently again.

As they neared the ferry dock, Torres spoke up again.

“We got here faster than I thought. We’ll have some time to spare.”

They needed a ferryman to cross the river.

Nearby, there were piles of stones roughly stacked, and a poorly maintained path could be seen. By now, the sun had risen high in the sky.

Torres found a suitable shady spot and sat down, while Encrid began to swing his sword next to him.

“Aren’t you going to rest?”

“This is a rest for me.”

No wonder people called him a training maniac.

Torres watched Encrid swing his sword in the air.

He stepped and swung the sword. From below to above, and from above to below.

‘No openings.’

Just as he thought that, Encrid pulled the sword back, using his arm muscles as a lever, and struck upward with the pommel as a weapon.

An application of basic technique.

‘Impressive.’

If a jaw got caught in that, one would be eating porridge for days at the very least.

If unlucky, they’d never chew anything solid again.

‘Ow.’

Imagining it made Torres feel like his own jaw was hurting.

Encrid kept moving continuously.

Despite the fact that they had marched quite a distance to get here.

‘He’s got incredible stamina.’

Swinging and swinging again.

Without realizing it, Torres found himself gripping and pulling out the handle of his short sword.

Shing.

The blade came halfway out, making a friction sound.

‘Ah.’

He was too immersed.

The sound made Encrid stop his sword practice and turn his head.

Their eyes met.

“How about a bout?” Encrid proposed.

This wasn’t the time for it.

But he couldn’t help it. Watching Encrid sparked a competitive spirit in him.

Not that he wanted to fight with hostility.

He purely wanted to test their skills against each other.

In other words, he wanted to finish the duel they couldn’t complete in the previous promotion fight.

‘I’ll have to do it properly.’

He had seen how Encrid handled harpies and man-faced dogs.

He had also seen him practicing his sword just now.

It wouldn’t be fair to assume he was inferior anymore.

‘He’s in a growth phase.’

To be thirty and still improving like this.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

Torres sprang to his feet.

Encrid sheathed his sword and pulled it out with the scabbard.

Even getting hit with the sheathed sword would break something. Encrid practiced a strong style of swordsmanship.

“Good. I like that.”

Seeing Encrid’s serious demeanor, Torres stretched his arms with a grin.

‘Should I throw my dagger?’

No, such a half-baked tactic wouldn’t work.

Then how?

He calculated and thought.

The insights gained from countless real battles ran through Torres’ mind.

‘In one strike.’

The moment he pushed off the ground, Torres moved low and fast, almost skimming the surface.

His speed reminded Encrid of Audin’s tackle, making him instinctively bend his knees.

At the same time, he swung his sword downward.

Anything approaching would get hit.

But Torres’ body sprang to the side.

Encrid’s sword followed Torres’ trail.

With his eyes, hands, and feet.

He heightened his senses. If he lost track, he would lose. It was a lesson from their previous duel.

He didn’t give any room to maneuver.

It became a battle of endurance. Could he win if it turned into a long fight?

If they fought while maintaining distance and dragging it out, and if it were a real sword fight, he might be able to kill him.

But this wasn’t that kind of fight.

Encrid intentionally closed the distance.

Instead of panicking, Torres showed what he had prepared.

He closed the gap until his arm could reach the opponent’s neck and twisted his wrist. That was all.

He didn’t have a weapon in his hand, nor did he grab or hit Encrid’s neck.

Encrid, responding purely by instinct, leaned his head back.

Flick.

That decided the match.

In Torres’ hand was now a knife with a blade about a handspan long.

If it had been a fight to the death, Torres could have inflicted a fatal wound with just a twist of his wrist.

“I was thinking of giving you a nice scar on your cheek.”

“…What is that?” Encrid was surprised.

It was understandable. Torres had been empty-handed.

“It’s my secret technique. Do you think I’d tell you just because you asked?”

“You wouldn’t tell me.”

As expected, Torres wouldn’t reveal it, but surprisingly, he started explaining.

“It requires dexterity. It’s not something you can master overnight.”

As he spoke, he flipped his wrist, and the knife in his hand disappeared.

With another flick of his hand, a dagger popped out of his sleeve.

On closer inspection, the handle and blade were relatively thin. It seemed to be designed for hiding in his sleeve.

“Hide knife. It’s my secret technique.”

Torres sighed after speaking and continued.

“Ugh, I don’t show this to just anyone.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Encrid stood up again and looked into the distance.

They still had time before the ferryman was supposed to arrive.

“Another round?”

When asked, Torres initially shook his head as if tired, but then he stood up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

It had been a while. He felt the same passion in his chest as when he first held a sword.

Torres got caught up in that feeling and joined in.

For the first time in a long while, he felt that even a short sparring session could improve his skills.

The combination of exhilaration and the tension of the upcoming life-or-death mission caused it.

Of course, the main reason was right in front of him.

‘Strange.’

All of this was because of Encrid.

Torres instinctively realized this. So, it was natural to find it peculiar and fascinating.

When the ferryman arrived at the appointed time, the two soldiers were drenched in sweat and panting.

“I heard this was a reserve unit mission, but was it training instead?”

The old ferryman asked.

It was a question they had no good answer to.

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