Eternally Regressing Knight

The brawler stomped the ground and charged forward. His ankles flexed with spring-like force, propelling his body forward in a perfect transfer of power from his knees, thighs, and up to his torso.

As a result, he was frighteningly fast. However, it wasn’t fast enough that it would be impossible to respond.

Naturally, he wasn’t a match for Rem.

Rem made a feigned strike, raising the axe in his left hand and bringing it down at an angle. Just before the opponent’s fist would make contact and his head would split into two, the attacker suddenly increased his speed, leaving behind a faint afterimage.

The fighter who had been charging at him now appeared to blur with speed.

Boom!

Rem’s left-handed axe cut through the air, missing its target.

The fighter, closing the distance, planted his right foot and launched a punch with a heavy metal knuckle.

It was clear he had been trained.

Then, Wham!

“Why are you putting your neck toward the axe?”

The sound of the impact was followed by Rem’s calm voice.

Enkrid recalled the scene he had just witnessed.

The fighter had been charging with a consistent speed before suddenly shifting his tempo for a more powerful strike.

Anyone else might not have been able to stop that blow.

At best, they would have been able to dodge it, but the opponent would follow up with another attack.

As Audin had said:

“A fighter who uses their fists is one who pays special attention to distance, brother.”

In response to this sudden change in pace, Rem seemed almost indifferent.

Feinting with the left axe to create an opening, he quickly swung the right axe with much greater speed.

Though the opponent used a similar tactic, the result was vastly different.

The axe blade flew like a beam of light and severed the man’s neck.

The decapitated head of the attacker flew off and landed with a thud.

The fighter’s body, which had launched the punch, collapsed immediately after Rem pushed him away with the back of his hand while still holding the axe.

“That one’s not easy. Don’t let your guard down!”

The man with the spiked spear yelled out.

At that, five more men closed in on Rem.

They were all men. Three wielded tridents and swords, and one toyed with a dagger. In total, there were five.

“This is fun,” Rem said, even as he faced them, his attitude calm. He even danced a little, as if enjoying the moment.

Ragna placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and walked confidently toward the man with the spiked spear.

“Kill him!”

The man with the spear shouted. In that instant, a female thief, perched on a branch, shot something.

Ping!

A short arrow aimed at Ragna’s shoulder. Ragna twisted his body to dodge the arrow and smoothly drew his sword as he did.

The motion was so fluid, it seemed almost rehearsed.

Clink!

The sword clashed against the spear, blocking it with a sharp sound.

“Hmm!”

Perhaps because the strike wasn’t very strong, the spear-wielding man briefly tilted to the side.

At that moment, a second arrow flew toward him.

As expected, Ragna dodged it once again. The short arrow struck a stone on the ground and bounced off with a sharp sound.

‘Up there.’

Enkrid spotted the origin of the arrows. On the tree above. A small figure, using a device on his wrist, was shooting arrows.

Enkrid moved quickly.

Though he lacked a whistle dagger, he was trained in proper throwing techniques.

In a split second, he slowed down time, focused, and gauged the distance between himself and the archer, before tossing a dagger.

The dagger cut through the air and missed the archer, but lodged itself deep in the thick tree trunk where the figure had been.

“Kill him, Roomt!”

The man with the spiked spear shouted.

One of the enemies approached Enkrid.

This one wielded two daggers.

Roomt eyed the dagger hanging from Enkrid’s waist.

“That dagger…”

“Got it as a gift.”

Before the enemy could finish speaking, Enkrid responded without even taking a breath. Roomt furrowed his brows at the reply.

He had a fierce look, with sparse eyebrows and unnaturally small pupils, which made him appear intimidating.

However, appearance and skill are not always tied together.

‘A typical mercenary face.’

Many mercenaries bore scars, making them look menacing just by their appearance.

“I taught him,” the man said.

At about forty years old, someone still fighting on the front lines would have to be quite skilled.

His heart raced.

He was probably better than the one he had taught.

But was he better than the leader of that group?

A strange sense of anticipation filled him. And if there was anything he hoped for…

“Are you going to do this alone?”

Five were facing Rem, three were facing Ragna.

Why was he facing only one?

The last one was a monkey-like creature jumping between the trees.

Meanwhile, Rem was smiling while swinging his axe, facing the five enemies.

The five opponents were showing caution.

They had seen their comrade killed in a single blow.

Even the spear-wielder was being cautious.

When you have the numerical advantage, it’s usually better to surround the opponent slowly than to rush in recklessly.

The spear-wielder and his two companions formed a circle around Ragna.

The ones facing Rem were doing the same.

“I’ll kill you first, and then I’ll rip that beast’s throat out.”

He was clearly furious, though it wasn’t clear what his relationship was with the black-clad guards.

But despite his anger, he didn’t rush in. It wasn’t because he was cautious—it was because he had experience.

Enkrid didn’t plan on waiting.

He stomped on the ground and moved forward. After hearing a few words from Ragna, he had gained a new insight into swordsmanship.

He focused his attention and sharpened his senses.

He could feel the prickling killing intent of his opponent against his skin.

As Enkrid charged, Roomt’s hands moved. They were fast. Incredibly fast.

His hands whipped through the air, and the blades seemed to multiply.

Enkrid, using the basic swordsmanship of a straight thrust, extended his blade. If it was blocked, he intended to strike again or counter with a thrust.

Roomt swung two daggers and deflected Enkrid’s sword.

Thud!

It was a technical deflection, not relying on strength, but on skill.

The technique struck the center of the blade, disturbing its balance.

Enkrid couldn’t land the strike where he intended. His blade veered off course. As his sword drifted, the opponent closed the distance and stabbed with his daggers.

It was an unpredictable trajectory, coming from below.

Enkrid, fully relying on his instincts, felt the blade approaching from the direction of his throat and pushed his left foot down to halt his body.

He locked his movement, then tried to block the incoming dagger with his forearm guard by pulling his elbow back.

But the dagger moved like a snake, targeting his chin.

It was a swift, unpredictable strike.

Enkrid tilted his head back. The tip of the dagger grazed his chin with a quick flick.

As his sword extended forward, he reeled it back and pulled it inward, but his opponent rolled to the side to evade.

The two daggers crossed in front of him, and his eyes locked onto Enkrid, as if asking, “You’ll dodge that?”

Enkrid casually extended his sword again.

What was there to avoid?

To be honest, if he hadn’t practiced evasion, he might have been finished by that blow.

But now, his body reacted automatically.

His opponent was quite satisfying, though there were still gaps.

Clearly, there was a noticeable skill difference between him and Dungbakel.

“Special class, maybe. But still under the knight level.”

Enkrid assessed the opponent’s skill level in his mind.

With that thought, he pushed his sword forward once more.

The daggers came at him again.

It was the same technique as before.

Thud!

Evasion, not just from the field but honed through years of experience. His swordsmanship had grown, and with it, the heart of a beast.

His heart awakened, and strength surged throughout his body.

He pushed his weight onto his left foot, moving forward with a crushing force. His opponent wouldn’t have anticipated the sheer power he carried.

His focus and heightened senses made the oncoming daggers appear like fragmented images, not a blur.

Clang!

Sparks flew as the dagger collided with Enkrid’s sword. That was the end of it. For the technique to work, the opponent’s strength was required.

The dagger couldn’t even budge Enkrid’s sword, nor could it evade the blow.

With overwhelming strength, he pressed down.

In the slowed time, Enkrid saw his opponent’s panicked eyes.

And with that, he thrust his sword.

Thunk!

The leather armor protecting his opponent’s chest was torn, and the blade passed through.

The enemy tried to twist his body at the last moment to deflect the sword, but Enkrid’s sword was simply too good.

The tip of the blade sliced through the leather mercilessly.

It was no trouble to cut through the remaining flesh and muscle.

Starting beneath the collarbone, the sword pierced diagonally, then was pulled back, causing a spurt of blood.

Ping!

At that moment, a short arrow flew toward Enkrid, aimed directly at him.

Ragna made that move part of his follow-up and dodged.

Enkrid imitated the move.

Ducking the arrow, he pivoted around his left foot, spinning his body and momentarily exposing his back to conceal the start and end of his hand’s movement before throwing a dagger.

Whoosh!

The monkey-like female thief didn’t seem to anticipate this, and the knife struck her thigh.

“Ugh!”

The monkey-like thief got stuck on the branch.

Enkrid’s fight was over quickly.

Why wouldn’t it be? It ended after just two exchanges of offense and defense.

Enkrid’s gaze naturally shifted to Rem and Ragna.

Well, those two were obviously dominating.

“Just below the level of a knight” was an understatement. If the situation allowed, they could even kill a knight, as they claimed.

The skill gap was clear.

The defeat was, of course, due to ignorance.

They didn’t know Enkrid or the mad squad.

Because they didn’t know, they had to suffer.

Enkrid’s gaze fell on Ragna.

Whoosh.

The spear-wielder made a feint with his spear, then swung horizontally. Ragna matched it with a sword swing.

A defense? No.

Clang, clang.

“Bind.”

When blocked by the blade, the spear’s tip was deflected, and Ragna, controlling his strength, wrapped the spear with his sword.

Then, spears and swords flew from both sides of Ragna.

They both seemed to be using speed as their advantage.

The weapons extending from the two female thieves’ hands had a terrifying momentum.

In that brief moment, Ragna combined several moves into one.

First, he gripped his sword with both hands and swept the spear away to the left, lifting it up and twisting it. The sword’s flat side stayed against the spear, maintaining the bind.

He changed the trajectory of the spear, thrusting forward. The speed wasn’t too fast or too slow.

As he twisted the sword, he took a step forward, and the spear and swords passed where Ragna had just been.

The spear-wielding male thief gritted his teeth, pulled the spear inward, and pushed the blade away.

Ragna didn’t force any strength into it and took another step closer.

With that, he aimed for the left side of the spear-wielder’s head. The spear-wielder leaned back to avoid it, but it was too late.

Skwish.

A chilling sound rang as the man’s ear was nearly severed.

Blood poured down his left cheek, dripping to the ground.

The two women who had been waiting around them moved faster.

The three swords danced through the air, and the spear-wielding female thief swung her spear widely to sweep at his feet.

After severing the ear, Ragna quickly retrieved his sword, deflected the three swords with his blade, and dodged the spear aimed at his feet by jumping to the side, effortlessly escaping the range.

It was a stunning display of distance control and precise swordsmanship.

“How?”

And as Enkrid watched, he wondered. He felt like he was fighting while trying to gauge the opponent’s skills. After observing, he quickly realized the answer.

“They’re showing it, huh.”

What is swordsmanship?

Every move has meaning.

Ragna’s evasions held more than just defense. The positions he moved to were on the spear-wielder’s right side, forcing the female thief with the three swords to focus on Ragna in between them.

Without even breathing, Ragna delivered a thrust with one hand.

Having stepped back, he now moved in and aimed for the spear-wielder’s neck.

Again, the speed of the attack wasn’t too fast or too slow.

To be more precise:

“Just enough for the opponent to block.”

Enkrid’s eyes darted about, and his mind raced faster.

Each of Ragna’s movements was a lesson. A learning experience, a textbook he couldn’t afford to miss.

But Enkrid couldn’t just focus on Ragna, as Rem was doing something similar.

“Tsah!”

With a strange battle cry, Rem swung his axe down like a bell.

A thief approaching him blocked the axe with a longsword.

Thud!

The sword broke in one hit.

“You little bastard, my axe is a good one!”

Indeed, the axe was a good one.

Rem had picked it up from a mercenary who had once used it.

Rem, too, was fighting with an emphasis on showing rather than just relying on his strength.

While Ragna focused on precision and the meaning within the form of swordsmanship, Rem used his superior strength and focused on showing how to fight.

If you’re already superior to your opponent, why wouldn’t you use that to your advantage?

It was almost as if Enkrid could hear Rem’s words.

And with that, Rem showed how to fight. He didn’t rely solely on the axe to win.

He kept talking, getting under his opponent’s skin.

“Is your mother a ghoul?”

And Enkrid saw him use what he had learned from his own experiences.

The axe was used with precision to deflect and strike, each step calculated to put him in the best position.

As Enkrid watched the two of them, he came to a realization.

“Those two are better at showing than telling.”

It was a brief moment, but already Enkrid felt like he understood what they were conveying.

It truly felt that way.