A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The same day as yesterday

‘Dream?’

It felt so vivid, was that a dream?

He was bewildered.

Was it a dream, or was it real?

Faced with another battlefield, resembling the day before, he spent the day almost identically.

Another skirmish, fighting in almost the same spot, made it feel like a hallucination was overlapping with reality.

‘Didn’t this happen yesterday too?’

He shook his head, stopping the thought.

It’s just a random thought. It must have been a dream.

Was he lucky enough to have a prophetic dream?

‘Is it even right to say having a prophetic dream is lucky?’

He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

Encrid was confused.

Especially when the oil-soaked shield shattered.

“Damn, almost died there.”

It was even more confusing when Bell said that.

“Bell, did your head get split open, making you lose your brain?”

He reflexively spat out the words he remembered.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

Bell gets up slowly. Encrid looked at Bell and thought.

Bell will die soon.

Should he just watch?

He did.

Since it didn’t feel real, he let it happen.

A flash burst Bell’s head, and his eyes popped out and hit Encrid’s chest again.

“If you keep spacing out, what do you expect to happen?”

Rem saved him again.

“What?”

“Have you finally gone crazy?”

Rem twirled his finger next to his ear. He saw the axe in Rem’s hand.

“Some bastard with the eyes of a hawk or feathers or something came to this battle, so I need to deal with him.Get your head straight. Damn, if I leave you alone, you’ll die in no time.”

“Take care of yourself.”

He responded reflexively, and Rem tilted his head but stepped away.

“I told you to focus. You never listen.”

Muttering that, Rem left.

He picked up the axe that had fallen to the ground instead of a shield with his left hand and stood on the battlefield with a sword in his right hand.

It felt uneasy.

Holding on like that.

An enemy soldier closed the distance in front of him.

It was in an instant. The guy knew how to use his feet.

One of his swordsmanship teachers once said that in swordsmanship, seven-tenths is done by the feet.

The blade came into view, and Encrid once again faced a moment of death.

In that fleeting moment, his focus shone. He saw a dot.

The dot grew smaller and then quickly larger.

Encrid watched it until the end.

Until that dot became a blade that pierced his neck.

“Ah.”

There was no scream or groan. His neck was pierced, after all.

Only the hissing sound of air escaping came from his throat.

Horrific pain spread from his throat throughout his body. Encrid clutched his neck and collapsed to the ground.

Blood gushed out as he did.

“Mercy.”

The enemy soldier, who had been watching him for a moment, spoke and stabbed his head with the tip of his sword.

With that, darkness came again.

And Encrid heard it again.

Clang, clang, clang.

The sound of a ladle hitting a pot.

“I want to ask why you look like that since the morning.”

It was Rem, sitting next to him.

He spoke while holding his boots.

Another day. The same day.

“Dream?”

“Did you have a nightmare or something?”

“Right, it’s a dream, isn’t it?”

“Ah, damn, a bug.”

Rem shook a bug out of his boot, spat, and stomped on it.

It was the third time he had seen this scene.

Encrid wasn’t wearing boots or any gear. He was just sitting there idly.

‘Is this really a dream?’

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The day started again.

Bell dies, and Rem saves him.

Rem leaves to find an archer nicknamed after a part of a hawk.

An enemy soldier skilled with a sword blocks his path.

“What are you?”

Encrid asked.

The enemy thrust his sword without answering. That thrust, impressive every time he saw it.

Thump.

His heart pounded. His focus sharpened. Encrid could see the tip of the sword more clearly than before.

He twisted his body to dodge.

Crack!

The result wasn’t great. The elegant thrust didn’t pierce his neck, but it tore a large chunk from the side of it.

A fiery pain spread from his neck throughout his body.

He fell to the ground again.

Blood gushed out.

“Mercy.”

The blade came down on his head.

Clang, clang, clang!

“Ah!”

He woke up screaming.

The pain was still vivid. Encrid rubbed his neck.

“A nightmare? Did a witch steal your virginity or something?”

Rem made a silly joke.

“There’s a bug in your boot.”

Encrid said, covering half his face with his hand.

The pain from dying was one thing.

He couldn’t fathom what was happening.

“What? How did you know?”

Rem tossed the bug out of his boot, spat, and stomped on it.

“Just knew.”

“Are you a prophet?”

“No.”

He waved his hand dismissively.

Encrid got ready as usual, then stopped before heading out.

“Rem.”

“What is it?”

“My head hurts too much. Sort out your meal, and if anyone looks for me, tell them I’m sick in the tent.”

“If you’re just trying to be lazy.”

Rem chuckled. He was a friend who laughed easily.

If this isn’t a dream.

If he’s really repeating after dying.

Could that be true? Can such a thing happen?

Encrid needed time to sort out his thoughts.

He went back into the tent, removed his gear, and sat down.

He thought and thought again.

How could this be happening?

‘Why is this happening?’

A thought came to him, and he fumbled around his chest. It wasn’t there. The necklace he got from the village chief was gone.

‘Because of that?’

A desire? A wish?

‘A blessing?’

No, could this really be called a blessing?

It’s just the same day repeating itself.

Encrid had heard a few things about the blessing-type artifacts, but he had never heard or seen anything like this.

‘Isn’t this closer to a curse?’

Thinking this, Encrid rubbed his neck.

It was excruciatingly painful. It hurt terribly every time he died.

His head felt like it was going to explode from the complicated thoughts.

By the time he skipped lunch, Rem brought him something to eat.

“What’s wrong with you? Do you really just want to be lazy?”

His expression seemed to suggest he doubted that possibility.

Encrid was known as a hard worker even here.

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Encrid nodded twice.

“That’s unusual. Well, then rest up. There’s a battle late in the afternoon, so rest well. I’ll cover for you until then, so get yourself together.”

Rem left.

Time passed. His thoughts didn’t get organized.

This wasn’t the kind of thing that could be sorted out by thinking.

Aaaah!

He heard shouts. The ground rumbled. The battle had started.

Encrid had no intention of going out.

If he went out, he would die from that thrust.

He decided to hold out.

But he couldn’t hold out forever. A mere expendable soldier couldn’t avoid the battlefield just because he was sick.

“Everyone get ready and go out! It’s battle time!”

There was a guard patrolling inside the tent.

Encrid geared up and went out.

He fought again.

He fought much further back than yesterday.

Holding on without seeing Bell or Rem.

Suddenly, the front line shook violently.

The enemy’s movements were unusual. The allied forces were being pushed back.

Before he knew it, Encrid was at the very front.

And he met that guy again.

Is this a coincidence or inevitability?

He didn’t know. However, it was certain that wherever he went on the battlefield, he would either die or meet this guy.

Therefore, now was the time to worry about ‘how,’ not ‘why.’

Instead of figuring out why he kept meeting him, he needed to figure out how to survive.

A thrust.

The blade came flying.

‘What was the name of that technique again?’

Rem had mentioned something about this technique before, telling him to focus. He said that just knowing this would prevent him from dying easily on the battlefield.

He had also said that even if trapped in a monster’s lair, one should calmly catch their breath.

What Encrid was attempting now was something Rem had taught him.

It was called something heart-related.

The name almost came to mind but slipped away.

That skill, the name of which he couldn’t remember, shone once again. Encrid realized he was holding his breath while watching the blade.

Thump.

His heart pounded. He saw the timing and angle at which the blade would pierce his neck.

He threw his body to the side. He rolled on the ground ungracefully but survived.

The joy was short-lived.

Thud!

A blow to the back of his head brought excruciating pain. His head felt foggy. He didn’t even realize he had fallen to the ground.

Another enemy had struck his helmet with an axe from behind.

Looking up with dazed eyes after the blow, he saw.

“Mercy.”

The thrusting guy plunged his blade again.

Thud.

Clang, clang, clang!

He opened his eyes again.

Another repeating day.

‘Don’t think about it.’

Don’t think about whether the necklace is a blessing or a curse.

Don’t think about what is happening.

There are only two things to think about now.

Surviving the battlefield.

And doing whatever it takes to achieve that.

“There’s a bug in your boot.”

“Huh? Are you a prophet?”

“What was that thing again? The thing you tried to teach me before.”

Blink, blink.

Rem blinked his eyes and then said.

“The Heart of the Beast?”

That’s right. That was the name.

The Heart of the Beast.

With the mere heart of a human, how could one keep their eyes open on a battlefield where spears, swords, and axes flew?

By adopting The Heart of the Beast, one could do so.

He recalled what Rem had said.

“Teach me again.”

“Huh?”

Rem was taken aback.

Encrid understood Rem’s reaction.

At one time, Encrid had struggled desperately to learn, and Rem, charmed by his passion, had struggled desperately to teach.

In the end, Encrid had gained nothing, and Rem had taught nothing.

The basic training was to not close your eyes in a fleeting moment.

Keeping your eyes open until the brink of death was not something one could do with ordinary courage.

And it wasn’t just about keeping your eyes open.

In Encrid’s view, Rem’s skill was better than most elite mercenaries.

The essence of the training was to watch and evade until Rem’s axe was halfway through your neck.

“Let’s do it, the training.”

The fire of passion burned in Encrid’s eyes.

A flame ignited in his chest.

‘Does it matter if it’s a blessing or a curse?’

He knew he had no talent. That much was certain.

And time was fair to everyone.

So a dull person could never beat a genius.

But what if time wasn’t fair?

Even a curse would be fine. This was a lifeline. A lifeline to move forward.

“Alright. I’ve been feeling drained lately, like a dog that lost its bone, but seeing you so energized gives me a boost too.”

Rem stood up and said.

“Right after breakfast.”

“Well, let’s do that.”

After breakfast and washing the dishes,they shared the casual remark that being a knight was a dream, and Rem laughed at that.

Then it was time for the lesson.

“Forgot the training method?”

“Completely.”

So impressive that Encrid even had nightmares because of Rem’s training.

Nightmares of that axe cutting through his neck.

“Let’s go.”

The essence of the training was simple.

When the axe aimed for the neck, keep your eyes wide open and evade.

If Rem made a mistake, Encrid would die.

Originally, fear had prevented him from doing it properly.

But now, the situation is somewhat different.

“Even if I die, I’ll just bounce back.”

It was a moment of losing fear. He awakened the concentration he learned from dying for the first time, The Heart of the Beast.

Encrid’s heart began to beat.

The beating of the heart, which had been startled, calmed down.

The beast does not easily startle. The slowed heartbeat brought tranquility.

Tranquility, the essence of The Heart of the Beast.

A calm mind allowed him to see the trajectory of the axe blade.

Training in controlling his body had been ongoing.

Avoiding the trajectory was not difficult.

The axe blade cut through the air. Encrid timed it perfectly, stepping his right foot back and shifting his body backward.

The axe blade passed in front of him.

“…Did you practice without telling me?”

Rem asked.

“A little.”

“Good. Good. But your timing was a bit early there. You need to evade just before.”

It’s a training to toughen the heart’s skin.

Rem swung the axe.

Encrid waited until the axe almost grazed his neck before dodging.

“Well, in our camp, there weren’t many who learned and practiced this. It’s fascinating.”

Morning training came to an end.

Rem patted Encrid’s shoulder.

“Well done. With this level, you should be able to handle those mediocre guys in real combat.”

“And what about those beyond mediocre?”

“What are you asking?”

“What if you face someone like that?”

“I’m asking out of curiosity.”

Looking straight at him, Rem spoke. There was a look in his eyes today that made Encrid wonder why he was like this.

“You run.”

Yes, it’s running.

It’s madness to confront a stronger opponent on the battlefield.

Encrid survived this long because he was perceptive and knew his limits.

And now.

“It would be better to train against opponents who are not mediocre, wouldn’t it?”

“If you train like that, you’ll be short of a hundred lives.”

Rem chuckled. Hearing that laughter, Encrid thought.

Right now, it feels like he has hundreds of lives.

Blessing or curse.

‘If I can use it, I’ll use it all.’

Encrid has lived like that so far.

Having lived like that, he thought the same now.

That strike, facing it.

He thought it would be a good training partner.

The pain of death is terrible, but the reward is equally great.

After ten years, Encrid felt the joy of growth.

A joy that filled his heart completely.

A satisfaction incomparable to any drug.

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