Eternally Regressing Knight

Chapter 320 – Another day of repeating death.
The second morning of extreme praise arrived.
Enkrid repeated the same today once again.
The chain of ominous feelings that went beyond the instinct to evade still tightened around his
body.
His limbs were stiff, unable to move.
In the meantime, today felt no different from watching someone die.
As the evening drew near, Enkrid said what needed to be said.
It was the minimum preparation.
“Ragna, grip the sword and rest.”
He had said it in advance, but the sword wasn’t the issue.
He was exhausted.
He was injured.
He was not at his best.
Knowing that didn’t make it preventable.
And so it was a disaster.
It was not without reason that it was called a disaster.
The knight had once again killed all of his comrades.
The third day passed, and then the fourth.
It repeated.
Ominous feelings, tightening chains, the deaths of comrades, his own death, pain, and
occasionally, the ferryman on the river.
“Despair.”
The ferryman came once again, embedding the word “despair” in Enkrid’s mind.
Enkrid did not respond.
“Despair.”
Twelve days passed.
The same day repeated again and again.
Bound by the chains of dread, Enkrid kept the deaths of his comrades in his eyes.
He had never turned away.
He couldn’t.
Krais, who couldn’t even fight properly, insisted on blocking his path.
The man who spoke of escape every day—why did he not run in this moment?
This was a curse.
And so, he didn’t grow numb.
Both physical and internal pain felt the same.
He had to endure the same pain always.
He had to watch everything unfold.
Enkrid had never considered turning away, but pain was still pain.
“This is despair.”
The ferryman with a light tone passed by.
The twenty-second day.
A stir.
Just after Shinar’s chest split, Enkrid’s fingers twitched.
This day felt slightly different from the previous twenty-one.
“Fiancée.”
She hadn’t died.
He had thought she was dead on the first day, but she too was no ordinary fighter.
With age, she twisted the path of the sword, minimizing the damage.
Her style mixed both the sword that strikes and the one that receives.
As for Ragna, he didn’t rely on speed to overcome the opponent’s strikes, but instead used his
sword to block and endure with sheer strength.
They were all worth learning from.
A stir.
Ragna, Krais, Dunbakel, Esther.
After seeing all of their deaths, Enkrid found the freedom in his hands.
“Finally moving.”
And with that, a simple remark.
“Hm?”
Yet, the blade in the brown-haired man’s hand pierced his heart once again.
Enkrid died again.
The black river and the ferryman.
He kept appearing as if there were nothing else to do.
“Despair.”
The ferryman’s unfocused gaze was now fixed on Enkrid.
Enkrid looked at the ferryman with indifference.
Every time he spoke of despair, there was no sign of weariness or boredom.
As Enkrid continued to gaze indifferently, his body slowly began to fade.
It was time to return to reality.
He had to live through another day of watching his comrades die.
Another day of repeating death.
It was the moment where his body and face dissolved like smoke.
The ferryman looked at Enkrid.
He did not speak through expression.
However, sometimes he would express a fragment of his inner feelings.
And so it was now.
As the time in the dream drew to an end and Enkrid’s body began to blur, the ferryman expressed
some of his emotions.
He even chose to speak them aloud.
“Smile?”
The river disappeared.
Enkrid woke up from the dream.
Thus began the start of the repeating today.
It was the thirty-second day.
“Such a rough dream.”
Enkrid mumbled as he woke up.
The first thing he did was treat the past day as a dream.
It wasn’t so much that he dismissed it as a dream, but rather he used it as the first step to move
forward.
To think that today was one he could do nothing about.
Quite, no, very unpleasant, wasn’t it?
It felt as though insects were crawling all over his body.
“What kind of dream was it?”
Krais, wiping his eyes on the side, asked.
“A dream where I die.”
“Lucky you.”
In response to Enkrid’s honest remark, Krais gave a sincere reply.
“Ragna, I had a dream where you died too.
Grip your sword.”
“That’s really unlucky.”
Ragna also answered with sincerity, and it was indeed a cozy morning.
Ragna didn’t believe in superstitions, but hearing that from Enkrid would likely make one think
twice.
“Is it normal to hear nonsense from someone like you?”
Ragna muttered, sounding a bit like a complaint.
It was indifferent, but the content didn’t sit right.
“Is that an insult?”
Enkrid responded naturally.
“I’m challenging you to a duel.”
Can someone really compare me to Rem?
Casually throwing in a joke, Ragna received no response from Enkrid.
This morning, Enkrid moved more vigorously than any other day he had passed.
Despair? That was a word that couldn’t easily reach his heart.
The extreme situation was acknowledged.
The opponent was acknowledged to be an absurd and grotesque level of strength.
But the answer was clear.
‘Once.’
If he could endure the first blow, the opponent would retreat.
So, is this despair?
No.
Even if there was a way to avoid it, he wouldn’t take it.
The opponent was a knight.
Even if that knight had come as a reaper, Enkrid felt nothing but joy as his dream approached.
Just as there was pain, there was also exhilaration.
The deaths of his comrades were buried in the dream, and Enkrid used it as the starting point for
moving forward.
In other words, no one would die.
Thus, only one clear answer remained.
‘Endure it.’
If it doesn’t work?
Keep going until it does.
If necessary, do whatever it takes to make it happen.
That was the way to do it.
To see his comrades die over and over?
If that’s despair?
‘That’s weak.’
How many “todays” had he overcome?
There were many ways to break out of the repeating today.
Did the same thing have to happen every time?
He already knew the answer.
Now that his body moved again, he could do things he hadn’t thought of before.
Enkrid began by gathering his equipment from the corner of the barracks.
Should I wrap myself in bandaged armor?
No, that would be meaningless.
Didn’t you see the knight’s sword?
No armor can block that.
What Shinar wore wasn’t normal armor either, but it was still sliced through.
Something dwelled in that strike.
I think I know what that is.
‘Will.’
A knight is someone who wields ‘Will.’
Enkrid clearly understood that.
So, what should I do?
Should I just let it go for now?
Would the Snake Sword be effective?
He had already forgotten that his body was in ruins.
Another day like today passed.
“Everyone worked hard.”
Enkrid always said similar things.
There are things that shouldn’t become numb, even if they’re repeated.
Enkrid hadn’t forgotten that.
After the usual words of “thank you for your hard work,” a few trivial exchanges followed.
“I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Krais’s words finished, and with a whoosh, the tent was torn, and a man with brown hair entered.
It was always the same start.
“I’m sorry.”
The man spoke, and Enkrid began to prepare.
“If you can block it just once, I’ll let you go.
That would be the only way to respect my honor.”
He acted as if he didn’t want to do it.
Yet, he still couldn’t stop a single strike.
While he was saying something, Enkrid moved.
In truth, Enkrid didn’t listen to what the man said.
Had he heard it once or twice?
If something is repeated, it either numbs you or it doesn’t.
The words that remained were just tiresome.
Honor or whatever—his focus had ignited.
The chains of ominousness tightened around his body, but he had already begun to overcome
them once.
He commanded his muscles, from his fingertips to his whole body.
Move.
Enkrid’s feet naturally fell.
His body moved as it willed.
The ominousness still tightened around his throat, but it didn’t matter.
It could be ignored.
The important thing was, he was moving.
The man noticed first that someone was walking despite not listening to his words.
His gaze turned to Enkrid.
Enkrid spoke.
“I’ll go first.”
“Fiancée.”
Shinar tried to stop him, but it was already too late.
“I’m the target, right?”
He spoke while taking another step.
He was right.
From everything he had learned through these repetitive days, he understood it all.
To overcome today, you had to recognize and face what was necessary within it.
‘The knight’s target is me.’
If he showed determination, the person wouldn’t turn their back on him.
He spoke and met the situation head-on.
The man, the knight, raised his sword.
With a ting, the short sword, missing a few teeth, was drawn—this was the weapon of the reaper.
The reaper in the dream had taken up the weapon.
“Impressive.”
He swung the sword.
Wham.
Enkrid tried to block it, but the opponent’s sword was faster.
Was it faster than Lykanos?
Was it similar to Jaxen’s no-kill thrust?
Enkrid had seen it countless times, but this was the first time trying to block it.
He felt the difference in speed.
The opponent’s sword was launched without any transmission of force, starting from the feet.
It was a sword that couldn’t be read in terms of timing.
‘I was slow.’
Enkrid accepted it like that.
He was slow, and having missed it, it was natural that his heart was shattered.
Death was approaching.
Even so, Enkrid grinned.
Wasn’t the first thing he wanted to achieve accomplished?
The reaper had seen it too.
‘Crazy bastard.’
He saw through Enkrid’s true nature in an instant.
The opponent wasn’t normal.
Of course, that wasn’t Enkrid’s problem.
He was just satisfied that his trick had worked.
If he didn’t want to see Shinar, Ragna, Krais, Dunbakel, and Esther die, all he had to do was step
forward first.
His eyes closed.
Death was approaching.
The dark river surged.
A ferryman had entered, though it wasn’t a moment to open a dream world, he still managed to
slip into it briefly.
He passed by and left high praise.
“Crazy bastard.”
This was already the second time such praise had been given.
Enkrid barely managed to leave a response.
“Thank you.”
There was no time to speak longer.
Was it just an illusion that the boat on the far-off river seemed to rock heavily?
Who knows.
Anyway.
‘My body moves.’
Now, all that was left was to receive it.
“Phew, good.”
“What’s good about it?”
Krais asked as soon as Enkrid woke up.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Enkrid thought.
Can he recover his body right away?
No.
Thinking, he picked up Ragna’s sword and set it beside his bed.
“…What’s this?
Do you want to spar?”
“Hold onto it.”
It was easier to act than explain the reason.
Anyway, to raise even a bit of heat in his body, it was important not to start moving.
He continued stretching his muscles by the brazier, repeatedly performing motions that
stimulated his regenerative abilities.
Yet, his thoughts didn’t cease.
‘How can I block it?’
He was still at a loss.
Just because he could move didn’t mean he could block it immediately.
But still, wasn’t it just one sword strike?
‘No.’
It wasn’t just one strike.
It was the knight’s sword.
‘This is insane.’
Enkrid wasn’t an idiot.
He knew what he had done on the battlefield.
His own sword hadn’t been stopped by ordinary soldiers.
He had defeated mercenaries skilled with swords, even those from the Hurrier family.
Among them, there were also mages and shamans.
The most recent time, he had been surrounded by enemy forces.
Although he escaped using his senses, it hadn’t been an easy feat.
To someone who didn’t know he was repeating the same day, it would have seemed like
something beyond magic.
One sword, or rather, three swords, but he had made it through that peril just by wielding a
sword.
“Are you a mage?”
Krais naturally asked this.
Esther also gave him a questioning look.
Of course, he wasn’t.
He couldn’t cast spells.
He recalled the knight’s sword again.
Now, he felt like a regular soldier.
His thoughts continued.
If Jaxen were here, would he have noticed?
No, if Jaxen were here, he wouldn’t have easily fallen to the knight either, would he?
Would he have done something to stop it?
What if Ragna hadn’t been hurt?
These were just idle thoughts.
Was this despair?
Was it the lingering emotion the ferryman had drilled into his mind?
Enkrid didn’t try to discard or erase any of it.
He simply let it go naturally.
It didn’t matter.
What was despair?
Despair is when there is nothing to look at, so hope is cut off, and one crumbles.
It’s about self-pity, crumbling from within.
None of that was relevant to Enkrid.
Was he going to be trapped in today because he couldn’t block the knight’s strike?
Actually, that was welcome.
He would rather see his dreams fade and tear apart as he struggled through another day of doing
nothing, with no turning point, watching them grow old.
“Another stormy day.”
Even if he had to fight with all his might, even if death was approaching, it didn’t matter.
He wasn’t going to live just to die.
What mattered was that today, the things the ferryman had said in agony and ignorance, the
countless other days before, had broken a shell of Enkrid.
His mind was upright, as it had been when he first greeted today.
It was a small realization.
But also, a big one.
‘There’s no rule saying not to use today.’
He had used it when dealing with werewolves and mages, and when breaking through spell traps.
It was an expansion of concepts.
He fought back, enduring and using the curse of repetition.
This was the moment he recognized with his mind what he had been doing physically.
Enkrid’s eyes opened.
The task ahead came to mind.
“Ragna.”
“…What is it?”
His voice naturally became stronger.
Ragna reacted to Enkrid’s change in attitude.
Why was he suddenly like this?
“Assuming your body is fine?”
Enkrid’s eyes sparkled.
How should he put it? He seemed oddly excited, with a gleam in his eyes.
As he spoke like this, Ragna cut him off.
“I’m fine now.
Better than the commander.”
In some ways, arrogance was the most powerful weapon.
Just like Enkrid’s gaze, Ragna’s arrogance shone brightly.
Enkrid naturally responded.
“My body is at ninety percent.”
The truth was, it was fifty percent.
“I’m completely fine now.”
“I’m fine too now that I think about it.”
Shinar, listening to their conversation, spoke softly.
“What are they doing?”
“They’re having a contest to see who’s the bigger fool.”
Krais summarized the situation.
“I’m not hurt.”
Dunbakel spoke up.
She too had been hurt.
Of course, no one reacted to her words.
Enkrid and Ragna weren’t paying attention to the others either.
More accurately, Enkrid ignored them, so Ragna naturally followed suit.
The main point was this.
“Can you block a knight’s sword?”
That question, the attitude, the weight carried in his words and gaze, and the rising determination
beyond the arrogance.
All of it was a stimulus.
Ragna paused, sinking into his own world for a moment.
This battle had been a turning point.
For Ragna, the path was clear.
He could easily tell where his talent was headed.
But just because the path was visible, he hadn’t walked it yet.
He hadn’t experienced it, so he couldn’t be certain.
However, the shining talent had already shown him the way.
It was the path revealed by the talent awakened by the trigger.
Ragna was half certain.
This was the path to becoming a knight.
So,
“I’ll block it.”
If he set aside the arrogance, it was possible.
If he used the cut infused with ‘Will,’ and made the first step with what he had gained, he could
block the knight’s sword.
It was a vague certainty.
It was confidence.
At the very least, he wouldn’t fall weakly to a single strike.
Contemplation wasn’t about shutting yourself up and acting foolish.
Also, just as Enkrid had changed, Ragna’s change was subtly noticeable too.
Especially when looking at the knight, Ragna’s reactions to the repeating today were gradually
different.
What did that mean?
Could it be that something was visible to him?
It was doubt and questions.
Enkrid saw the easy and comfortable path.
He sought the answer from Ragna.
“How?”
Now, tell me the method.
Ragna seemed to be intoxicated by something.
Enkrid’s voice and gaze had that effect.
So, Ragna willingly spoke up.
He imagined the knight’s sword and pictured it.
In terms of talent, he was undoubtedly one of the best in the continent.
He didn’t hesitate.
His mouth opened quickly.