A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Enkrid adjusted his grip on Silver.

At the same time, he reflected.

The charging horse, the flying spearhead.

The Beast’s Heart granted him composure, and One-Point Focus allowed him to perceive the enemy’s movements as if they were disconnected, piece by piece.

His heightened senses naturally calculated the moment the spearhead would reach him.

And so, he cut.

Yet something nagged at him.

Not enough.

Something felt lacking.

The review lasted only a moment, and he quickly identified what needed adjustment.

What if he had stepped forward just a little more?

Half a step more—just that much. Then, the force transfer would have been smoother.

The difference in stride affected the transfer of power.

Enkrid swung his sword, adjusted his grip, and pulled back, moving exactly as he had envisioned.

He widened his stance. Corrected his posture. Then, he swung toward empty air.

Whoosh.

There was no need for speed. He only needed to feel the transfer of force.

The blade carved through the air, stopping precisely where he had aimed.

Conclusion—this was right.

The adjustment in stride made the force transfer significantly more efficient.

Enkrid understood it in his mind and engraved it into his body.

“Not coming?”

He lifted his gaze.

Thousands of men were gathered here. The army was watching.

Of course, Enkrid wasn’t looking at them—he had only raised his head to see if the next opponent was coming.

Why weren’t they?

He simply stared, questioning.

It had been the first engagement, a duel.

The soldiers standing further back couldn’t see clearly, but those at the front had witnessed everything.

Naturally, so had the enemy.

It was only natural that no one stepped forward so easily.

***

A single strike?

Jalban’s brow furrowed.

He had two aides. The one who had stepped out was the weaker of the two, but still a talented warrior—not someone who would be easily overwhelmed, even against a knight order’s squire.

“Did he let his guard down? Fool.”

The other aide spoke as he stepped forward.

“Wait.”

Jalban raised his hand.

At his command, the aide stopped, gripping his reins.

Jalban had judged that his opponent’s skill was not ordinary.

However, it was also true that his aide had been careless.

The man should not have fallen in a single strike.

After a brief moment of consideration, Jalban made his decision.

“I’ll go myself. Binyu, follow behind me and support.”

Jalban did not go alone—he brought an aide.

The key was making it seem as if the aide was merely following from a few steps behind.

Binyu’s specialty was throwing spears.

A single well-timed strike would be enough.

Even if someone from the enemy ranks came forward to help, it wouldn’t change the outcome.

Few warriors had the skill to throw a spear with such deadly precision.

“Let’s go.”