A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“Do you really need to use two swords?”

The question came after their sparring session. It was Rem who asked, dripping with sweat. Well, actually, only Encrid was drenched.

“Yeah.”

Encrid nodded while sitting on the ground. Rem’s mouth opened slightly but then closed without a word.

He held back what he was about to say, seeing Encrid’s expression.

For instance:

“Should I explain to you how idiotic this dual-wielding technique is?”

“Did you think using two swords would double your attacks or something?”

“Stop messing around and just stick to using one sword. Trust me, before I split that blue sword with an axe.”

Rem bit his tongue and thought quietly. After all, he had received a gift—a high-quality axe from Encrid. The subtle blue sheen was proof of well-refined metal, undoubtedly made from Valyrian steel.

Judging by its hardness and craftsmanship, it was an item that could last a long time. It was something Rem found quite appealing.

So he decided, ‘Let it be.’

Of course, the axe was just an excuse. The truth was, seeing Encrid’s expression made him give up on scolding him.

Sometimes, when Encrid spoke of wanting to be a Knight, saying it was a good day to wield a sword, or mentioning training in his spare time whether on the battlefield or not, a stubborn resolve showed on his face. Or should he call it determination? Even calling it that seemed overly composed.

In any case, there was a line in Encrid’s demeanor that Rem couldn’t cross. He had such lines himself, and Encrid had always respected them.

‘If he ends up tangling himself, stagnating, or getting frustrated…’

He would give up then.

People were recently talking about Encrid being a late-blooming genius, saying he awakened at thirty.

‘Is that because of me? Maybe a bit.’

But fundamentally, it was Encrid himself who had done the work. At least, that’s what Rem thought.

Encrid never gave up at any moment. He didn’t despair or consider giving up, he simply and stubbornly kept moving forward.

Crawling if he had to.

Suddenly, that phrase came to Rem’s mind. Was it these qualities that made him keep watching Encrid? Or was it because Encrid was so different from himself?

Rem, who had given up on everything and wandered off. Even though he had been born with talent and everything else.

‘He abandoned it.’

He turned away, ignoring it.

In contrast, his Platoon leader, this stubborn and composed leader, wasn’t like that. All he had was a sword, a well-sharpened sword, and nothing more.

Yet he kept walking, not knowing what lay at the end of that path, not questioning whether he was qualified to walk it, nor complaining about the hardship.

He simply enjoyed the path he had chosen for himself. What kind of person could do that?

Rem’s emotions were complex. Had he learned the strength of the Heart of the Beast in just one day?

‘Well, that’s surprising, but it’s something I can accept. Geniuses do exist in the world.’

It’s still remarkable that his Platoon leader could do such a thing.

‘I’ve guided, demonstrated, and monitored his progress myself.’

At this point, it makes sense that he could at least imitate it.

However, that attitude toward life is something that’s difficult to emulate.

Reaching the end of his thoughts, Rem moved his tongue, which had been stuck to the roof of his mouth, and spoke.

“I think I like you as a Platoon leader.”

“Did someone poison your food?”

“I mean it, it’s good to have you around.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s just like you.”

Encrid took it lightly.

As Rem watched him, a slacker who usually lazed around suddenly appeared.

“Are you done sparring?”

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“I think I really dislike you.” Rem said with all his heart. He wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding, so he spoke with genuine sincerity, just as Encrid would.

“Oh, me too.”

Ragna nodded, even flashing a slight smile, indicating that he fully agreed.

Ragna usually had a delicate face, but his smile made Rem want to punch him even more.

“That goes for me as well.”

Out of nowhere, a sly-looking cat with its arms crossed added to the conversation. This was a guy who usually never spoke.

“Brother, everything in the world is within the embrace of the Lord. Of course, the Lord also touches the hearts of individuals. As a servant of the Lord, I cannot hide my feelings. Yes, I feel the same way. Haha.”

The big religious guy said, taking off his shirt. It was annoying.

Even though they had added to the conversation, saying they disliked him too, Rem felt oddly good.

Watching Encrid had that effect on him.

In that cheerful mood, Rem decided to show a bit of kindness and grace.

“Hey, Andrew!”

Andrew flinched at Rem’s call but soon stood up confidently.

‘Growing the enemy in your heart means you’re giving them too much importance. Seeing them as big means you’re already losing before you start.’

With a steady heart, Andrew drew his sword.

Sling.

“Kid, I like that you’re quick-witted.”

Rem approached Andrew, stepping heavily on the ground. The sharp axe swung back and forth like a pendulum from his shoulder, looking quite menacing.

“If he asks for mercy in the middle, I’ll step in.”

Mac spoke from behind. Andrew nodded.

Mac was a helpful person, having supported him in reviving his house. Lately, he had been standing by Andrew’s side against Rem as well.

But Mac, why are you stepping back while you speak? Hmm? Isn’t it going to be difficult to help in an urgent moment if you step back that far? It feels like you’re distancing yourself too much.

“You can do it. Gardner, you are the only hero who can revive the Gardner family.”

Why are you saying that from so far away? And why are you suddenly calling me Gardner? Usually, you call me Andrew and even speak casually sometimes, don’t you? I think you did.

Mac kept distancing himself until he finally stopped near Encrid. If one wanted to avoid the madmen of this platoon, the only refuge was probably over there.

Andrew couldn’t head for the refuge. Along with his last remaining pride, there was also the fact that the more he fought this mad barbarian, the more his skills improved. For the sake of tomorrow, not today.

Learning from his Platoon leader, he said, “Let’s fight, arrogant barbarian.”

“Huh? Is it okay if I cut off an arm?”

Rem’s dull gray eyes held a hint of sincerity.

“Shit.”

Andrew muttered, realizing resistance was his only option.

Encrid watched the whole situation while sitting. He had fought Rem with all his strength, using two swords, giving it his best. The Heart of the Beast gave incredible strength to his arms, an extraordinary increase in muscle power.

But it couldn’t be called dual-wielding just yet. He couldn’t push Rem back as effectively as he could with one sword. He felt a lack of training.

‘I’m not getting used to it.’

Encrid thought as he looked at his calloused hands. He wasn’t blaming his talent. He just felt he needed more time.

So what should he do?

“Are you going to rest?”

The answer was right in front of him.

Ragna asked, showing an unusual enthusiasm.

Why?

Why was he like this only with him?

It wasn’t a bad thing. Absolutely not. Encrid knew this too well. He placed his hand on his thigh, which was sure to bruise from being kicked by Rem, and stood up.

“No.”

Nod.

As if he expected that, Ragna nodded and drew his sword.

“Are you going to use two?”

“Yes.”

Ragna didn’t ask any more questions.

It was a strange thing. He expected that if he said he would use two swords, Rem or Ragna would try to stop him.

If not them, then maybe Jaxon or Audin.

Even Andrew or Mac or Krais could have said something about such clumsy swordsmanship.

But no one said anything.

It was truly odd.

Still, there were no more questions.

Instead, he swung his swords. Tightened his grip on both.

He pondered and deliberated, knowing that the most effective way to use two swords was to think through the answers.

He hadn’t been idling.

As he attached the Heart of the Beast to his body, he also trained with two swords.

Even so, he was clumsy.

Like a statue that, no matter how much you chisel away, you can’t quite define what it is.

So Encrid’s hands were busy, clumsy, and chaotic.

Ragna blocked every strike of Encrid’s swords and ended the fight in a manner similar to Rem.

In other words, he overwhelmingly seized the advantage and subdued him.

“Hmm.”

He started to say something but then closed his mouth.

“Huff, huff, haah.”

Encrid, his breath coming in gasps, placed his right hand on his thigh, his left hand holding a sword stuck into the ground, sweat dripping down.

He was half-bent over, his head facing the ground.

Sweat from his forehead trickled down his nose and fell to the ground.

What could he call this? Insane training?

For such a thing,

His limbs were trembling.

The Heart of the Beast momentarily breaks through the muscle’s limits, causing side effects.

While Ragna was silent, Audin stepped in.

“You overdid it, Platoon leader.”

Encrid lifted his head slightly to look at Audin.

Audin, with his usual smile, the one he wore when using the Isolation Technique, spoke. What was that? That expression usually hid a devilish intention.

“You need to rest.”

“Rest?”

“You shouldn’t use the Isolation Technique either, brother.”

What was this? Usually, he was the type who would be impatient if he couldn’t train or torment them more.

“I’ll talk about it later, later.”

Ragna said, lost in his thoughts.

Encrid tried to get up but collapsed to the side. As if on cue, Audin helped him up.

“Let’s get you inside.”

“Don’t we have duties or assignments today?”

“Even if we do, you won’t be able to go, Platoon leader.”

Was that so?

Encrid had a vague sense of it too.

The Heart of the Beast was a good weapon, a good technique. Increasing his strength momentarily provided the foundation to match blades with monsters like the Frog. If skilled enough, it could even withstand a giant’s blow, just like Rem.

Rem’s back as he stood before the giant was very impressive.

Almost enviably so.

Having seen that, giving up the Heart of the Beast was out of the question.

Audin supported Encrid as they moved.

“Go get cleaned up.”

Even with trembling limbs, Encrid carefully secured his equipment.

“Do you really have to fight every day?”

Krais teased from the side, but he still quickly helped Encrid with his gear.

“Go wash up, I’ll take care of your equipment.”

“Mine?”

“Do you know how many years I’ve been eating army black bread? Do you know how many Kronas I’ve earned from equipment maintenance? I’m probably better than most blacksmiths.”

Come to think of it, Krais often repaired equipment when he didn’t have other things to sell, like women or cigarettes. He would often tour other units’ barracks, making friends and earning extra income by maintaining gear.

Maintaining equipment could be a bothersome task, except for those who treated their weapons like lovers. Encrid also valued his weapons—his sword and armor. But he trusted Krais.

Sure enough, when Encrid returned after washing up, Krais had even polished his sword.

“If you draw this on a moonlit night, it’ll be a good signal to show where I am.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes,Platoon leader, your compliments are… very much like you.”

Krais remarked, and before Encrid could ask what he meant, Audin approached.

Encrid had just sat down on his bunk, drying off, when Audin’s large frame cast a shadow over him, causing Krais to quickly step back in surprise.

“What is it, Audin? What do you want?”

“I have business with the Platoon leader.”

A big, friendly smile. The smile of a bear, or a large predator, or perhaps a scheming devil.

This isn’t good, Encrid thought.

Audin’s hand soon touched Encrid’s body.

“Overworking your muscles can cause them to tighten up. There’s a technique to relieve that tension. It will be a new skill to learn.”

At the mention of learning and teaching, Encrid’s defensive attitude shifted.

“What is it?”

Another smile instead of a name. It felt ominous, and that feeling was soon confirmed.

“Gh… grrr… grrrr.”

As Audin’s fingers pressed and twisted various points on his body, Encrid felt intense pain.

His vision darkened. It was as if he could faintly see the ferryman of the black river, as if he had dipped his foot into the river of death and returned.

The pain was so intense it seemed to carve through his entire body.

“This is a method to relieve tense muscles. When I learned it, it was often called ‘blood, sweat, and tears.’”

Is that the name of the technique? It definitely didn’t seem like it.

At the moment, Encrid couldn’t even think of a response. The sharp pain coursed through his body, leaving no room for words to escape.

It was a time of pain so intense that even screaming seemed impossible.

Of course, it wasn’t the kind of pain that would damage Encrid’s body permanently.

He just had to endure it.

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