Eternally Regressing Knight

Enkrid had learned the snake’s walk from Audin, combined it with the swordsmanship of Swallow Blade, and layered it with the Fluid Sword techniques taught by Ragna. He then added all the skills he’d observed, learned, felt, and experienced so far.

The concept was simple:

“The Fluid Sword technique blocks, deflects, and disperses.”

It’s a swordsmanship that prioritizes exhausting the opponent into mistakes.

Leonis Onniak, the first to compile the five initial swordsmanships, defined it this way, and those who mastered the Fluid Sword technique afterward adhered to the same principles.

But does it have to be like this?

Enkrid wasn’t the first to ponder this, but he might have been the first to infuse his ideas into a form and turn it into swordsmanship.

This was how he created it:

Combining deflecting and striking simultaneously to create openings.

Deflect the opponent’s attack while thrusting his sword forward.

The concept was simple, but executing it required sharp senses and years of sparring experience.

Enkrid had those.

However, using this method reduced the power behind slashes and thrusts. In fact, delivering even half the usual force was challenging.

Would that be a problem? If power was insufficient, it could be compensated for.

A sharper weapon would suffice.

It just needed to cut at the slightest touch.

Enkrid sharpened his blade with a whetstone. The blade, reborn from a mere magic sword into a fine one, was sharp enough to make up for the lack of strength.

And so, he used it this way:

He deflected the opponent’s sword to the side, rode the motion, tapped, and withdrew.

This was the result:

“You’re one-eyed now.”

Enkrid stood still as he spoke. Opposite him, Maellun covered one of his eyes with his palm, blinking his remaining eye.

He had fallen backward while trying to avoid Enkrid’s sword, landing on his rear.

What kind of guy is this?
What the hell is he?
And what was that just now?

Confused thoughts swirled in Maellun’s mind.

Instead of dwelling on them, he pushed off the ground, launching himself at Enkrid.

Though it seemed like he propelled himself with his hips, it was actually his knee’s rebound that allowed him to shoot forward from a fallen position.

Losing one eye didn’t matter.

Years of accumulated combat experience guided Maellun’s hand and helped him pinpoint his target’s position.

He deflected it.

Even as he moved, Maellun recognized the strange technique his opponent’s sword had used. If his blade couldn’t be deflected, then it should be smashed down with brute force.

He needed only one step to close the gap, and in that moment, his forearm seemed to double in size.

Simultaneously, it appeared to twist unnaturally.

The thick-looped sword in his hand blurred like a mirage as it descended in a powerful arc.

Enkrid sensed the incoming strike. He opened his five senses, and his newly developed intuition read the trajectory of the blow.

He placed his sword precisely in its path.

To ordinary eyes, the exchange would have been too fast to follow, but to Enkrid, it was a clear, tangible contest of swordsmanship.

The force behind Maellun’s loop sword was weaker than before.

A feint.

Why was he pulling such muscle-flexing tricks? Enkrid began to deflect the blade with his sword’s flat edge when Maellun’s weapon abruptly changed course.

Enkrid twisted his waist, pivoting on his ankle, and applied techniques from Valah-style martial arts to his swordsmanship.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.

By adding rotational force, he struck Maellun’s blade with the flat of his sword.

Clang!

The collision of metal produced a resounding noise.

The deafening roar was accompanied by a wave of vibrations and invisible shockwaves that swept toward both combatants.

Neither flinched. Their trained bodies absorbed the impact.

Maellun didn’t falter. Nor did he underestimate his opponent.

Using the rebound force, he spun half a turn and swung his blade horizontally. Enkrid, as if dancing, drew a curve in the air with his sword, bringing it up to meet Maellun’s blade once more.

Screeeeech!

The clash produced a grinding sound and sparks that scattered between them.

Splurch!

Amidst the cacophony, the sound of flesh being torn was heard.

Enkrid stepped back, flicking his sword downward to shed the blood clinging to its blade.

“…You.”

Maellun blinked with his remaining eye.

What the hell just happened?

After his first encounter with Enkrid, Maellun had worked harder than ever to improve his skills.

In his relentless training, he had even cut down a few cultists, narrowly avoiding death on several occasions.

He had slain monsters and magical beasts, wandering near cursed lands.

It was all for this day.

To crush the human who had interfered with his ambitions and bask in the satisfaction of victory.

Frog warriors’ desires were often frighteningly obsessive.

Maellun’s desire was simple and clear:

To relish the sense of achievement after defeating an opponent.

The man before him was the perfect challenge.

Weaker than Maellun, but ferociously tenacious.

Yet all his efforts to savor the most profound satisfaction were in vain.

No, his efforts had paid off, but his opponent had changed.

“This makes no sense.”

Fighting someone vastly superior was antithetical to Maellun’s desires.

With his talent for reading abilities and his varied experiences, it should have been impossible for him to lose.

His combat instincts still told him so.

But what was this? What was happening?

His current strength far surpassed what it had been before.

And yet the man who had barely held his ground against him last time had taken his eye in one blow.

And now…

“Where’s my arm?”

The absurd words spilled from Maellun’s mouth involuntarily.

It was there. Now it’s not.

After just two exchanges, he’d become one-eyed during the first and one-armed during the second.

His arm was severed. The chunk of flesh from his elbow down lay on the ground, with his loop sword still clenched in its twitching fingers, blood pooling beneath it.

Even with his astounding regenerative abilities, Maellun could only watch as his lost limb started to regrow faintly.

For now, though, he was without his weapon and arm.

His rage overcame him, and his obsession betrayed him.

His eyes rolled wildly, his mouth agape, and his tongue writhing unnaturally.

“Are you going to keep going?”

Enkrid glanced at Krais, relieved to see him unharmed, curled up in a corner rather than bound.

That meant this Frog hadn’t killed anyone.

He still had questions.

Who had sent Maellun? Would others like him come? Was it the work of the Black Blade? Or had the Count been plotting against the territory from the start?

Enkrid simply observed, his mind set on getting answers.

“Enki.”

Behind him, the fairy commander called his nickname. He found it preferable to “betrothed.”

He realized why she had called him when he saw Meelun reach inside his breastplate and pull something out.

It was a small leather pouch, flat and just the right size to fit inside his armor.

He held it up and twisted it open, pouring something powdery into his mouth.

“Be careful.”

The fairy warned, and Meelun’s eyes turned bright red.

Lost in the hope of victory, Meelun, obsessed with a singular desire, made a regretful choice.

He had taken the powder, and soon its effects began to take hold.

“Kkhhhhhaaaaaa!”

Meelun screamed as he charged forward, faster than ever.

Enkrid had already positioned himself, stepping back as the frog tossed the powder into his mouth. His senses heightened, and everything seemed to slow.

Krais’s eyes widened as the frog rushed forward. The fairy commander stepped back, preparing herself.

Outside the mansion, Gilpin, who had been guiding them, slipped and fell.

Enkrid’s senses were sharper than ever. His concentration triggered, and everything around him seemed to slow, giving him time to react.

The frog’s powder glittered in the air as it scattered, and Enkrid saw the frog growing larger as it approached, closing the distance.

He held his sword diagonally.

The frog charged forward, aiming to crash into him with its full weight.

Slash!

The impact was deafening as one of them was sent flying into the wall.

“Captain!”

Finally, Krais shouted. He hadn’t noticed the fight until the frog’s sudden burst of speed had caught his attention.

When the two collided, the wooden floor of the mansion cracked, and dust filled the air, obscuring Krais’s vision for a moment.

Through the dust, a blurred figure moved its arms, opening its mouth.

“What are you calling me for?”

“Shit, I thought he was done for.”

Krais let out a relieved sigh.

The fairy commander, still shocked, unknowingly opened her mouth. Her stance was shaky, her hand still on her sword.

“What was that just now?”

She pondered what she had seen.

The frog’s foot came flying toward Enkrid. He deflected it with his sword, brushing against the frog’s shin.

The frog’s skin was slick.

Enkrid used this to his advantage, skillfully dodging.

It wasn’t easy. A slight misstep and he could have been knocked out by the frog’s powerful kicks.

But Enkrid wasn’t finished. He drew a shorter sword with his left hand, using it to strike the frog’s breastplate.

With a precise hit to the heart, the armor shattered, sending shockwaves through the frog’s body.

Was this impressive? Yes, it was. His reflexes and the way he handled the situation were remarkable.

“Your growth is incredible.”

Shinar, the fairy commander, realized she couldn’t easily predict the outcome of their fight anymore.

If they fought seriously, perhaps, but in a simple spar, Enkrid was no longer someone she could easily defeat.

“He might be tougher than that barbarian.”

Seeing the fairy’s surprise, Enkrid simply shrugged.

“Seems like you know something.”

He asked, having heard her exclaim about the powder. Her tone was one of familiarity.

“I’ve seen something like that recently.”

“Let’s clean up first.”

With that, Krais approached, finally snapping out of the shock.

Enkrid nodded as he watched the frog, now knocked unconscious, lodged between the broken bricks of the mansion wall.

His heart hadn’t exploded, but the shock had knocked him out.

No matter how much the frog struggled with the drug, Enkrid had aimed for its weak spot. That was the difference in skill.

“Captain, you’re really strong.”

It was surprising, even though he knew it. Krais said this, while Gilpin, who had witnessed everything, stood there with his mouth wide open, unable to say anything. He didn’t even get up from where he had fallen on his backside.

After all, weren’t they monsters that had nothing to do with him?

He hadn’t really seen much, or at least hadn’t properly observed it. But would anyone believe the story if he told them?

‘They’ll believe it, won’t they?’

Does this even make sense?

Is that person some kind of knight or something?

No, they’re just a mere company commander, right?

But they fight too well for it to make sense.

“We’re heading back.”

Enkrid captured the frog. If it didn’t die, it would regenerate, so taking it alive was the right call.

He also wanted to resolve a few questions and curiosities.

Enkrid slung the frog over his shoulder, with the fairy company commander and Krais following closely behind.

As they stepped outside the mansion, a cold breeze brushed against his cheeks.

Though the battle hadn’t been long, he was sweating. The wind on his face felt quite refreshing.

As sweat trickled down his temple, the fairy commander reached out and wiped it away.

“Are you an onion?”

Enkrid didn’t understand what she meant.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Every time, you show a new charm, so I thought you might be like an onion—peeling off layers to reveal something new.”

Enkrid was deeply curious.

What kind of joke was that in the fairy world?

Was this what normal fairies were like? Or was the fairy company commander exiled for making such jokes and ended up here?

He glanced at Krais, wondering if he had heard it, but Krais didn’t even seem to notice.

“Oh, you’ve got a lot going on.”

He was rummaging through the frog’s bag as they walked.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

Enkrid asked. Krais looked up, his head lifting from where he had bent down to the bag.

“Huh?”

He hadn’t heard, or maybe he had heard but simply didn’t listen. Enkrid knew this technique of Krais well, so he mimicked it.

“What’s this powder?”

Krais didn’t respond, changing the subject.

“There’s something troublesome in here. Onion betrothed.”

The fairy commander wasn’t bothered, calling Enkrid by a fresh nickname.

Should he curse?

Enkrid thought for a moment but remained silent.

As for the powder, he could just have Krais look into it later.

“Onion betrothed, did you just say something with your eyes?”

He could tell the fairy commander seemed a little too excited.

Enkrid didn’t ask why. He just acted like Krais.

He had heard it but didn’t listen.

“Hey, betrothed. You look like you don’t want to answer me right now.”

“Esther came to greet us.”

Enkrid pointed ahead at the leopard by the barracks and greeted it with a smile.

Just as he said, Esther was there, waiting in front as though she had come out to meet him.

Enkrid walked lightly.

He had barely managed to hold his own against Frog Meelun before, but now, it was different—very different.

It was almost as easy as a quick stroll.

Such had been the change. Enkrid thought this as he looked at Esther.

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TL here! Thank you for reading!

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