A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

"Wrong path."

The ferryman spoke.

"As usual," Enkrid thought as he looked at the ferryman. The grey, cracked skin, eyes without pupils, and the mouth that seemed to be a darkness like that of an abyss. Every time the ferryman spoke, it felt like darkness leaked from his mouth.

The darkness whispered to despair, coaxed surrender, and urged to give up.

It wasn’t a child, yet it whined as if it were, whining in a way that even a four-year-old wouldn't.

"You're having impure thoughts," the ferryman said.

The ferryman was as sharp as Rem. To Enkrid, it didn’t matter whether he was inside a dream or outside of it.

"No," Enkrid answered confidently.

"To have struggled to get here only to face the wall you’ve built yourself, how ironic."

The ferryman whined again.

"Again, impure thoughts," he muttered.

"No," Enkrid replied.

Did it matter if it was inside a dream? The essence hadn’t changed. Enkrid's specialty was on full display.

In his shameless response, the ferryman nearly got angry, but his years of accumulated discipline weren’t so fragile. He held his temper.

"Be careful."

"Yes."

The immediate, obedient response irked Enkrid even more.

The ferryman longed for his body. He missed the days when he still had flesh.

If he still had his hands and feet, if only there were tools to perform physical tasks…

"What does it feel like to face an insurmountable wall? Especially one you built yourself?"

Enkrid tilted his head instead of answering.

It was only one day gone. Wasn’t it too early to discuss his feelings?

Well, that’s what he thought.

"Impure!"

"Yes."

"Be careful!"

"Yes."

"Don’t just answer."

"……."

Enkrid half-opened his mouth and closed it.

"Go."

"……."

"Get lost."

"……."

Enkrid touched his lips with his right hand, mimicking a sewing motion, and nodded.

He respected the ferryman’s wish ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) not to speak, showing a faithful attitude.

Enkrid moved further away from the dream.

The rippling river, the purple lamp swaying on the boat. It was the ferryman’s arm trembling.

"Is this how easily your heart wavers?"

The ferryman murmured in his emotionless voice, looking back at the place where Enkrid had been, alone on the boat.

In the end, this was inevitable.

No one could endure facing repeated days and stay steady.

Enkrid, too, would eventually meet his end on the river. The ferryman knew this.

Yet, it was still strange. Something about it was curious. Something about it was enjoyable.

Some "today" was already familiar to the ferryman, but some today didn’t even exist in his foresight.

The today that had been visible changed, but what was more, a new today had appeared that had never been there before.

And that was now.

The ferryman had spent many long years on the boat. He pondered on them.

Had there been a case like this before? No.

That’s why it was so strange. That’s why a forgotten thrill came to him.

Though irritating, he also felt he was in agreement with the source of the curse.

The ferryman found that curious as well.

Having multiple conflicting desires—it was something he’d never experienced before after becoming the ferryman.

He found himself in agreement, found himself irritated, found himself obstructing, and among those, there was one part of him wondering, "What if this person, in the end, escapes this today?"

A meaningless question.

No matter what happens, the end is fixed.

The ferryman knew this from experience.

Yet, what if, just maybe?

‘What if one were to disregard all causality and push forward?’

Could that be possible with just the will of one human?

The ferryman thought about it.

***

"Failure."

Enkrid had failed but didn’t bother questioning the reason. He never expected it to succeed in one go.

Instead, he tried to loosen the tension, letting go of the nerves he hadn’t even realized he’d tightened.

The time of sunset—the hour he liked the most in the day—was the reason he had started opening the Will regularly.

It was one way to release the tension.

Enkrid took a deep breath and exhaled, continuing the thought he had before.

He rose, loosened his body with the technique of isolation, and ate like a beast, then relieved himself, rested, and waited for the sunset.

A knight is one who contemplates these things.

‘How to slay a thousand.’

How is that possible?

Each knight has their own methods.

Enkrid still ate well. He stuffed his stomach with food. It was a habit to prepare thoroughly and eat when there was food available.

"Is something wrong in your stomach?"

Rem’s nonsensical words slipped out in the dining hall.

"Good eating is also part of training."

Audin’s words passed by without any response.

"Why don’t you try a sword fight?"

On the way out of the dining hall, Ragna spoke. Did he seem more restless today than yesterday?

Perhaps so.

The first thought that came when the new day repeated was to loosen the tension.

Instinctively, his muscles would have tightened, and his nerves would have been on edge. He had recognized this fact.

A bit of anxiety that hadn’t been there before had appeared briefly. At times like these, yes, wielding a sword or sweating it out was the most comfortable thing to do. But Enkrid pushed it all aside.

"We’ll do it tomorrow."

He didn’t know when tomorrow would come, but by postponing the spar.

"Did you get hurt?"

Lua Gharne asked.

"No."

Enkrid smiled as he answered and spent another day similar to the one before.

In the midst of this, he resumed his previous thoughts.

How to slay a thousand.

Knights, each using their own distinctive means.

For example, if it were Oara, she would use an unending series of strikes. The sword that kept flowing wouldn’t stop even if she cut down one, two, three, or twenty.

When would that sword stop? Only when external force came to halt it.

What about Ragna? Normally, his speed of cutting down enemies would be slower than Oara’s. However, if the enemy were grouped together, the story would change.

Enkrid’s mind conjured an image of Ragna slicing through a tightly packed shield formation.

To be grouped in front of Ragna was akin to a handshake.

That sword could easily overpower any mid-level knight who couldn’t even get close to blocking it for a second.

While Oara’s sword would continue uninterrupted, Ragna’s sword would smash through any makeshift barrier.

Which one is superior? There’s no answer. You can only know by testing.

When metal tears through flesh, death is inevitable for anyone.

How would others fight against a thousand?

Rem would leap like a grasshopper, swinging his axe here and there, throwing and slashing.

If I had to choose the one who could kill a thousand fastest, I would choose Rem.

What about Jaxon? It’s hard to imagine him killing a thousand.

If asked, what would he answer?

"Do I really have to slay a thousand?"

If there were a thousand, wouldn’t it make sense to target the commander?

Wouldn’t he look at me with that question in mind?

He probably would.

At this point, Enkrid smirked slightly.

"Did you come up with an interesting story? You can tell me if you want."

It was Esther’s voice. Enkrid opened his eyes, which had been half-closed, and looked at the witch with black hair and blue eyes.

The nickname "Black Flower" suited her well.

With black hair, glistening skin, large eyes, a high nose, and red lips.

Her appearance was extraordinary.

And beneath her robe, anyone would be compelled to offer themselves as a slave.

"Nothing."

Enkrid closed his eyes again. Esther didn’t speak any further.

As Enkrid continued to think, watching Esther retreat and sit on the ground, he resumed his thoughts.

The knights of Azpen were unfamiliar to him, so he couldn’t quite picture them. The Mercenary King probably wouldn’t take on a thousand enemies alone.

What about Audin? What would Audin do?

Even without rising to the rank of knight, he’d likely turn a thousand into bloody messes, wouldn’t he?

That seemed likely.

But what if knights are the ones blocking swords, fists, and weapons?

From the perspective of a soldier facing a knight, what then?

With just luck, one cannot block a knight's sword. Even if the Goddess of Luck kissed you, all you'd do is survive.

‘That’s probably true.’

A knight who has truly slain a thousand is rare. Still, knights are called those who slay a thousand.

They are called calamities. What makes them so?

Will.

The intangible force called willpower is the source that allows one to exceed limits.

The sunset began.

It was similar to yesterday, yet parts of today felt different.

The one-eyed horse approached, and Teresa hummed a tune.

Unlike yesterday, she only hummed, but it still sounded pleasant. Audin tapped his left hand with his right index finger, matching the rhythm.

Seeing Audin matching the rhythm, it seemed he could handle some kind of instrument. His sense of rhythm was remarkable, wasn’t it?

“The beginning of martial arts is the feet. The feet move with rhythm, don’t forget. Brother.”

Audin had said that one day.

Enkrid moved his Will, matching the rhythm like a song.

Thuk-thung, thuk-thung. Dududung.

He pulled out his Will like beating a drum, planting it in his feet. He’d done this before, pulling out and controlling the Will as needed.

Now, however, he needed to forget it while it remained planted.

Could he maintain it while forgetting?

‘Can it be done by forgetting?’

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

It could. He’d learned from Jaxon. The way to keep the senses open unconsciously.

“When you learn the art of the senses, your ears open. Does that mean you’ll see and hear everything? If you try to perceive and hear everything happening around you, you’ll go mad. So, it’s essential to filter out only what’s needed.”

‘Instinct.’

That’s why the sixth sense, or intuition, was necessary, beyond the five senses.

It wasn’t about carefully examining the information coming through the five senses, but about filtering it out with a sensory approach. By engraving the sense of danger into his bones, he could maintain the art of the senses unconsciously.

“You take your first steps after experiencing the threat of death a hundred times,” Jaxon had said, though he sounded as if he were dismissing it, but it was the easiest condition he’d ever heard.

It sounded far more pleasant than just saying, “You’ll get it by doing it.”

Ragna, the madman, had just said, “Do it and it’ll work out.” That was that.

Suddenly, he thought of what a crazy idiot Ragna was.

Anyway, there had been countless life-threatening moments. He’d actually died countless times.

It wasn’t difficult to engrave the instinct to sense danger into his unconscious mind.

As he repeated today, it happened naturally.

Enkrid started the process again, pulling out the Will, forgetting it, and engraving it into his unconscious.

Soon, the Will filled his entire body and began rampaging uncontrollably.

The gathered intangible force formed into a single flow, pounding at his heart. The blood seemed to flow several times faster.

Of course, this didn’t happen for real. It was just how the Will moved.

Thud.

Once again, his heart seemed to explode.

He repeated yet another day.

The next day, his lungs collapsed.

Then, some of his internal organs burned out.

Why could he disperse it for a short time but not gather and hold it?

He didn’t know. He’d figure it out one step at a time from here on.

Enkrid kept repeating it.

“Foolish.”

Occasionally, the ferryman spoke, but Enkrid still mimicked the sewing motion with his mouth.

By the time fifty of these days had passed, he changed his method.

Instead of gathering the Will all over his body, he focused it in his feet and tried to endure.

It wasn’t easy.

It used to rampage, spreading through his whole body.

How could he keep it from escaping?

Could it be solved with his senses?

Ragna might have naturally walked this path with ease, but Enkrid had to inspect every stone on the ground and clear them as he walked.

No, he couldn’t even walk at first.

‘Does it matter?’

Instead of walking, Enkrid crawled.

Wasn’t it always like this?

Lately, he had felt his skills improving, so returning to the past didn’t seem so difficult.

‘Not really.’

Every path Enkrid had taken up until now had been a struggle. So, overcoming any difficulty wasn’t hard for him.

Would it be enough to just inspect each path and walk it? Then, that’s what he’d do.

He had already seen the road. Fixing and repeating things was his specialty.

The way to activate the Will, the way to breathe at that moment, the mindset, the posture, and the intangible senses needed to control the Will.

He checked everything, one by one. So, all he had to do was keep going until it worked.

What he needed was patience, mindset, and perseverance.

Inspecting everything, if he went the wrong way, he’d turn back and start over. What he needed to repeat without getting tired was patience.

He also had enough willpower not to let his heart waver, even if he failed repeatedly.

The mental strength to endure the agony of his Will tearing his body apart would be perseverance.

Having died so many times, he could feel the sensation of his muscles, nerves, internal organs, from the tips of his fingers to his toes, being torn apart.

In fact, it wasn’t all that hard.

Enkrid could do all of this. He was fine.

What he needed was simply an unwavering dream.

And he already had that dream.

Once torn apart and shattered like a ragged doll, that dream had been pieced together to bring him this far.

For the first time, the Will that had started from his feet found some stability, if only for a moment.

‘For now, the right foot.’

As he smiled in euphoria, the Will rampaged again.

For a brief moment, perhaps due to the success with the right foot, the internal chaos was a little slower.

“Step aside, brother.”

Because of this, Enkrid could see the miraculous scene through his barely open eyes as he was dying.

A light emanated from Audin’s entire body. It wasn’t a metaphor; it was a glow shining behind him.

The light appeared in his eyes and scattered into particles. It was divine.

Audin, glowing with light, bled from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

He was likely prepared for death. His body was monstrously sturdy, so maybe he wouldn’t die, but that was a sacrifice in itself.

As the light approached, just before it touched him, Enkrid barely avoided it.

Instinctively, Enkrid felt that using that divine light would either kill Audin or severely injure him.

After dodging, Enkrid died. Without the strength to speak, he just went out.

Just before closing his eyes, he saw the light touch his body, but there was no miracle.

Divine light was miraculous, but it couldn’t bring the dead back to life.

However, just before death:

“Get up, brother.”

Audin’s voice could be heard.

He spoke with blood pouring from his eyes and nose.

He knew that after today, a new today would begin. Enkrid didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that.

“Crazy bastard.”

Enkrid rose and spoke, looking at Audin.

“Did you have a good dream?”

Audin, as usual, smiled and spoke.

Enkrid looked at him for a moment, shook his head, and stood up.

It was time to begin a new today.

The right foot had succeeded, and he had roughly learned the technique.

Let go of the past today and embrace the new one. That, too, was something he had long since become accustomed to. Crawling, walking, running toward tomorrow was the only thing he truly excelled at.