A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“Uh? Huh? How did you know?”

“I’m not a prophet.”

In response to Encrid’s words, Rem shook the bug out of his boot and spoke with a confident tone.

“Did the squad leader put it in?”

“I didn’t put it in.”

“Ugh.”

Rem did not withdraw his suspicious gaze.

Encrid didn’t care about Rem’s suspicious look. That wasn’t the important thing.

Encrid crushed the bug that Rem had dropped to the ground with his foot.

Squelch.

A rather unpleasant feeling traveled up through the sole of his boot.

“Spit.”

Encrid spat and roughly rubbed the bug’s corpse into the dirt on the ground and said,

“Can you teach me ‘Heart of the Beast’?”

“Hmm? You remembered that?”

Rem stood up, adjusting his boots.

“It’s not something one can forget.”

“And yet, you kept pouring alcohol into your stomach as if you wanted to forget.”

Back then, it was like that. The scene of his neck being chopped off by an axe kept appearing in his dreams, making life feel unbearable.

“So, can you teach me or not?”

“You’re unusually enthusiastic today? Good. Let’s do it.”

Rem nodded.

“Jaxon, can you take the morning shift? I’ll do it tomorrow.”

You need to eat to have strength, but there’s no need to waste time on things like washing dishes.

“Sure, I can do that.”

Jaxon was a squad member who smiled often and got along well with others.

He had such a mild-mannered personality that it was hard to understand why he was here.

When Encrid first saw him, he thought Jaxon played the role of a mediator here.

Jaxon brushed his reddish-brown hair and stepped out of the tent.

Rem, who was watching him, blew his nose with a sniff.

“That guy always gives me a bad feeling.”

Naturally, if Jaxon had been performing the role of mediator well, Encrid might not have needed to come here.

Jaxon got along well with other squads but had a poor relationship with the members of his own squad.

Except for Encrid, of course.

Encrid had a peculiar way of earning his squad members’ trust.

He didn’t know if it was because he silently handled various requests or because of his unimpressive skills that made it seem like he would remain a squad leader forever.

He just thought it was one of those two reasons.

Rem began walking towards the outside of the tent. Encrid followed him.

“That guy gives me the creeps. I have a bad feeling about him, so it’s best not to get too close.”

What about you?

Encrid retorted only in his mind.

Is this something a guy who broke his superior’s jaw in a fight at the previous squad should be saying?

Rem was a benefactor to Encrid.

But to other squads, especially his former squad, the 1st Platoon, they often looked at Rem as if they wanted to kill him.

They wouldn’t find someone who shattered their platoon leader’s jaw endearing.

Encrid didn’t argue.

Arguing wouldn’t change anything.

It’s a waste of time. Better to learn more about The Heart of the Beast.

There were many things to do besides learning The Heart of the Beast from Rem.

“Especially when he’s close with the guys from the 1st Platoon, it makes me even more uneasy.”

Fine, let’s say that’s the case.

When Encrid didn’t respond, Rem stopped walking.

“Why?”

“Squad Leader, you’re acting really strange today. Usually, you’d have something to say by now, wouldn’t you?”

That’s right. Normally, he would say something like it’s not something a guy who broke his superior’s jaw should be saying.

If not that, he’d say if you’re not going to get along, don’t even look at each other.

He believed it was better to keep people apart to prevent fights rather than forcing them to get along.

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That was also Encrid’s secret to leading the uniquely intense ‘Death Squad’.

“I have nothing to say.”

Encrid cut off his words.

Rem scratched the back of his head vigorously.

“This is a really strange day.”

They had breakfast and then headed to the open space on the outskirts of the barracks.

It might seem odd to train in such a manner on the battlefield.

But this was normal for Encrid.

To those who knew, it was nothing special.

Even passersby didn’t pay much attention to them.

And so, the teaching of ‘The Heart of the Beast’ began again.

“…Have you secretly learned from someone else? That can’t be.”

“I just repeated what I learned.”

“Training alone can achieve this?”

Another death was another experience.

Encrid found it easier to steady his mind than before.

Seeing this, Rem gave him a curious look but then said, “Alright,” and moved on.

“In my opinion, Squad Leader,you have talent. If you’re doing this well.”

Rem repeated something similar to what he had said yesterday.

Talent, huh? It would have been nice if that were true.

Just a moment ago, Encrid had failed to dodge Rem’s axe.

The axe stopped just in front of his throat.

It was so close that a slight flick of the wrist could have left a long scar on his neck.

“That was close.”

Rem chuckled as he spoke.

He seemed to find Encrid’s learning impressive.

There was a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

Encrid felt it too.

“What kind of skill allows you to swing an axe like that?”

The axe swing, from a moment ago.

Rem’s axe was faster than the stabs that had killed him several times.

The axe blade approached his neck’s skin in the blink of an eye.

Encrid didn’t even blink, yet he missed the movement of the axe blade.

“Hmm, talent?”

For the first time in a while, Encrid thought Rem was a really annoying bastard.

He had always been like this.

“If training were enough, there wouldn’t be anyone in the world who couldn’t wield a sword.”

Rem chuckled.

Just as Encrid had read the satisfaction on Rem’s face earlier, he also realized that this guy enjoyed teasing him.

A strange guy indeed.

Then again, was there anyone in this squad who wasn’t strange?

“What if I train more? If I try harder? If I swing my sword without sleeping?”

Encrid reflexively questioned.

It was a dilemma he had for a long time.

If he lacked talent, should he give up?

Encrid never gave up.

Instead of giving up, he chose to advance. If he didn’t have talent, what did he have?

The only thing he had was his determination to keep going without getting tired.

While so-called geniuses took ten steps at a time, he would take even a quarter step consistently and steadily.

“Really. You’re acting really strange today. Did you have a shot of seriousness or something?”

Rem said as he roughly hung his axe on a string tied around his waist.

“No.”

“Squad Leader.”

Rem called Encrid without a hint of a smile.

Their eyes met.

After a brief silence, Rem spoke.

“A person will die if they don’t sleep.”

As soon as Rem finished speaking, he tried to suppress his laughter, his cheeks shaking, then burst into laughter with a hearty “Pahahaha!”

It was his answer to the question about swinging a sword without sleep.

“Get lost.”

Encrid made a universal hand gesture, raising his middle finger.

Rem chuckled and suggested they go have lunch.

Encrid didn’t beg for more teaching.

You can’t get full from the first spoonful.

Encrid knew this fact all too well.

After lunch, he reviewed his swordsmanship.

Basic swordsmanship: thrusting, slashing, and swinging.

What he learned after basic swordsmanship was the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

It wasn’t shabby.

He had traveled a lot and spent quite a bit of money.

This was not swordsmanship one could learn for a few silver coins.

Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

It was named after Valen, who was quite renowned in the mercenary world, though he was far from a knight’s level.

If it had to be categorized, it belonged to the realm of illusion swords style.

He didn’t know how Valen originally used it.

But he had mastered several techniques in his own way.

Encrid focused his efforts on it.

‘After dying, the same day repeats, but what remains in the body does not disappear.’

The Heart of the Beast was learned not with the mind but with the body.

That meant what was ingrained in his body stayed with him.

He pushed his body to the limit. He swung his sword until the calluses on his hands split open again.

Normally, soldiers don’t use swords; spears are the basic weapon.

Being the leader of the “Death Squad” afforded him special privileges.

Encrid didn’t want to let go of his sword.

He trained repeatedly. His hands hurt, but he endured.

His stomach ached as it struggled to digest, but he endured.

He focused all his senses on his fingertips and toes.

The illusionary swordsmanship is a deceptive sword.

He was told to use any means necessary to deceive the opponent.

In fact, some techniques of Valen Mercenary Sword Technique had already spread in the mercenary world.

For instance, pretending to fall and then stabbing the opponent.

It couldn’t be called dishonorable.

Why is it dishonorable to do whatever it takes to survive?

If someone said that knights don’t do such things, Encrid wouldn’t argue with them.

They have their values.

He has his own.

The allowed time was half a day.

His legs didn’t tremble. If his legs gave out from this, all the daily endurance training he had done would be meaningless.

Encrid’s legs were strong.

“A sturdy body is indeed an advantage.”

Rem said to Encrid when he returned.

A messenger had just come and gone.

On the sixth repetition of today, he could roughly guess the time of day just by looking at the sky.

“It’s a body trained for over 20 years.”

Encrid roughly answered and moved back to the squad area.

“Don’t let that sturdy body turn into a training dummy. Keep up the hard work.”

Rem chuckled again, right before the battle began.

“I’ll take over the duty tomorrow.”

Jaxon also spoke from the side.

One seemed to be teasing him.

The other seemed to be expressing a determination not to be on meal duty for two days in a row.

Well, regardless of how they expressed it, both seemed to wish for his safe return.

“See you later.”

The sixth repetition of today began.

Encrid killed the enemies more easily than on the fifth day.

The first enemy he tripped and smashed the back of their head with the edge of his shield.

The second enemy he distracted with his sword before stabbing them.

Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

Not the commonly known techniques in the mercenary world, but skills he had learned separately by putting in effort and spending money.

A wavering sword tip was said to be a mirage that confused the opponent’s sight.

He implemented what he had learned, and it worked.

He felt a sense of accomplishment.

The joy of growth and fulfillment filled his heart again.

What he achieved through the repetition of days was not insignificant.

Encrid did not spend his days carelessly just because he could come back to life after dying.

On the contrary, he was more intense, more focused, and more immersed.

He had to, because he lived with the desire and hope that if an opportunity arose, he wouldn’t miss it.

That’s how Encrid lived.

He slashed, struck, and tripped the enemy soldiers.

The repeated battles provided him with unique experiences.

‘The Heart of the Beast.’

He saw things he hadn’t noticed the previous day.

He had reached the point where he could anticipate Bell’s fall.

Fighting in the same place every day, he saw Bell repeatedly.

He couldn’t pull back the front lines or move elsewhere even if he wanted to.

Carelessly crossing the front lines was a suicidal act. Changing one’s position on the battlefield was not an easy task.

‘I’m not skilled enough for that.’

Encrid knew himself well.

He had gained some confidence, but he wasn’t yet capable of breaking through enemy lines or taking risky actions.

He also wasn’t skilled enough to anticipate the arrows of seasoned archers.

Whack!

Bell’s head exploded again.

“Damn it.”

He had intended to save him this time but failed again.

Encrid immediately ducked.

An arrow whizzed through the air, just as he had predicted. The sound of it cutting through the air lingered by his ear.

His movements were as if he had anticipated it.

“Feeling sharp today?”

Rem had approached without him noticing.

“Go, either slit the throat of the bastard shooting arrows.”

“I was just about to do that. Feeling good, so take care.”

Rem left.

He encountered enemy soldiers who relied heavily on thrusting attacks again.

Encrid failed once more.

This time, he dodged the club swung from behind by a soldier but immediately next to him, someone threw a throwing axe.

Damn it.

The seventh morning dawned.

“I put in a bug.”

He told Rem.

“Are you crazy? Have you lost it?”

“Not crazy. Keeping calm even in situations like this, that’s The Heart of the Beast, right?”

“Hmm?”

“Teach me.”

Today begins again.

Rem blinked and then accepted.

Learning. Mastering. Swinging the sword.

This time, he didn’t even try to save Bell.

To save him, you have to read the arrows coming.

If that doesn’t work, you have to rely on luck.

How does Rem dodge arrows?

Encrid wondered and moved his body.

He died from a thrust again.

“Mercy.”

That damn mercy.

He dies. Like that, for the eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth… over a hundred deaths, Encrid repeated today, starting with death.

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