A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

It had been a long time since the sword in his hand had felt so heavy.

During the first year after he started wielding a sword, it had always felt heavy. Swinging around that solid chunk of metal just a few times made his arm muscles tremble, and the sharp pain between his thumb and index finger lingered all day.

Even a wooden sword used to feel heavy back then.

And now, this was many times worse than that.

Heavy.

It felt like dozens of iron weights were hanging from the blade.

If he so much as loosened his grip, the blade seemed like it would drop straight down and bury itself in the ground. The muscles in both arms trembled violently.

It was hard to believe. With all the training he’d done with Audin, his physical strength was never something he’d thought lacking.

But now, there was no time to think about that.

Every ounce of his attention was focused on enduring the weight of the sword. There was no room in his mind for anything else.

So heavy.

It felt like he’d drop the sword at any moment. Even lifting the tip slightly felt as difficult as crossing a winter mountain in nothing but bare skin.

The rain that had soaked his body for a moment earlier had already evaporated from the heat of battle, but sweat had started pouring soon after, soaking Enkrid’s entire body again in no time.

Sweat streamed down his face. Droplets ran off his chin, falling to the ground without pause.

It’s really heavy.

At this rate, he’d naturally drop the sword. It was a miracle he had fought while holding something this heavy.

He hadn’t even had a chance to catch his breath since earlier. His breathing was ragged, like he’d been running nonstop all day.

The sweat flowing from him only increased, drenching his entire body. It felt like he’d stepped out of a bathtub fully clothed.

Still, the hardest part of it all was the chunk of metal in his hand. The famed blade Acker, which had once felt perfectly molded to his grip, now squirmed like a snake trying to slip from his fingers.

Why does it feel so heavy?

He didn’t know. All he had done was block the other’s spear.

It was around then that Anu approached and whispered to him, while Enkrid endured the weight of the sword.

To Enkrid, the time spent holding up his blade felt long, but in reality, only a brief moment had passed.

Just enough time for a few words to be exchanged.

“Can you withstand the weight? The Bull’s a bastard that loves to pass on its burden.”

Enkrid couldn’t fully grasp all the implications in the king’s words, but there was one thing he did understand.

“If you let go, that’s your limit. And if you die, then what you want will never come true.”

Saying he must die wasn’t about death itself—it meant he had to run with death always by his side.

Even without the king’s words, Enkrid already felt it.

That he must not let go of what he held in his hands.

There was only one thing he knew for certain.

Enkrid thought he might drop the sword—but he also knew he wouldn’t.

If I were the type to drop it just because it’s heavy...

Then he never would’ve dared take a step toward an impossible dream in the first place.

“You want to become a knight? Then go see much, experience much, and build up everything you can. All of it will help you on your path.”

The king continued. Vague words. At least, that’s how they sounded to Enkrid in that moment. But Anu’s tone was filled with warmth.

“If you don’t forget what you carry in your sword, the path will open.”

Those few words stuck in Enkrid’s mind. Even as sweat poured and the blade tip trembled, he remembered them.

“I’m in your debt.”

The king gave his shoulder one final pat, then left.

Enkrid saw the tip of his sword droop slightly from where he stood.

Not even the Will of Rejection, nor the Heart of Might, nor the Beast’s Heart, nor One Point Focus, nor the techniques of refined senses and isolation—

None of it helped him simply hold the sword in this moment.

The Bull had made the weapon in his hand feel impossibly heavy.