A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

A knight’s strike.

That was the one thing Enkrid wanted.

What did he have to do to get there?

He didn’t have a clue—so he asked.

“Moving Will? What, you just do it, don’t you?”

That was Rem’s answer.

And Enkrid was freshly reminded: this crazy bastard with a hobby of beheading nobles was, unfortunately, a genius.

“So… Will can be used like that, huh.”

Lua Gharne became a scholar and began research. From that point, her input became incredibly helpful.

“What if you broke it down—piece by piece?”

Break down the movements. Inject Will into every motion of drawing and thrusting a blade. Approach the whole preparation process differently.

Enkrid changed the way he asked questions. He kept pressing Roman for more answers.

One day, he even stuck close to Oara and asked her the same.

“How do you explain something that just happens?”

Her answer was similar to Rem’s. Ragna’s would likely be the same. So would Audin’s. Would Jaxon say anything different?

“Just do it like this.”

Ragna would swing his sword and say that.

“Pray and it’ll come.”

Audin might say that.

“Feel it with your senses.”

That would be Jaxon’s version, probably.

Enkrid felt as if he were hearing advice from all of them, even though they were far off in the Border Guard.

Prayer wasn’t the answer, but meditation might be.

Swinging aimlessly wouldn’t work, but he mustn’t forget naturalness.

Would heightened sensitivity let him feel Will?

Not quite—but it would let him feel how a movement differed from usual.

When the student surpasses the teacher, these things become possible.

For the first time in his life, Enkrid reached the state of hearing one and learning two.

If others knew where he’d started, they would be shocked—but right now, no one knew.

Even Rem, who watched him up close, couldn’t quite catch on.

Horizontal slash, glance cut, crown split, counter cut, half-sword fighting, parry, deflect, chained strikes, lunging, draw-and-slice.

He reviewed all the techniques he knew, then picked one.

A thrust.

He went with what his heart chose.

Enkrid focused solely on the motion of thrusting his sword. He thrust Ember forward. There was a revelation from the first repeat of today inside that strike, and an understanding of Will in a single moment was also embedded in it.

Should I break it apart?

No—he shouldn’t.

Combine it.

Toes.

A step forward. A thrust of the sword. That was everything.

What would make it impossible to block?

Speed and force.

Not something you could imitate.

A strike focused entirely on "quickness."

He repeated it. Time passed. He lived through today, over and over again. The hourglass that flowed only for him dropped its grains one by one.