Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 111 - 111 - Puffed Cheeks
Chapter 111 - Puffed Cheeks
'I can't just leave him be.'
It was surprising that the fairy company commander had taken all the troublemaker squad members—now promoted to platoon members—along.
Enkrid wouldn't have believed it himself had he not seen the empty barracks.
Naturally, Krais, who had been absent from camp for several days, wouldn't have known either.
That must have been why Krais had asked him to call Ragna.
'Lucky he wasn't dragged along during the sortie.'
Since Enkrid had remained behind, perhaps Krais had used that as an excuse to stay as well.
Or maybe the fairy company commander had intentionally left Krais behind as a courtesy.
Regardless, Krais was still here, and the squad members were gone.
That meant Enkrid had to take care of things alone.
Calling back the squad members from the battlefield was out of the question.
And involving the standing army in something within the Gilpin Guild?
'Not a chance.'
No one would help him willingly.
Sure, if there were someone worth relying on, he might have had hope.
The fairy company commander came to mind.
Even if she were around, asking for help would still be a gamble.
What about Torres?
While it might be difficult for him as a platoon leader in the border defense forces, he might have been able to assist personally.
'But most of the border forces are already mobilized for deployment.'
The mere fact that they had given Enkrid a day off after his return was proof enough that the unit valued him.
Did that mean the mission had yielded substantial results?
Enkrid lightly shook his head.
His thoughts were becoming cluttered.
He needed to focus on the task at hand.
The task here was...
"We're going to rescue Krais. Yes, Big Eyes."
He patted Esther, who was snug in his chest, as he spoke.
Esther looked up at him with puzzled eyes, and Enkrid explained again that they were going to save the big-eyed friend.
It was a goal he had spoken aloud almost reflexively.
Hearing it, Esther fixed her lake-blue eyes on Enkrid.
Enkrid, with eyes of a similar hue, met her gaze.
"What?"
Of course, Esther didn't reply.
A panther wouldn't.
Still, her gaze seemed to speak, questioning whether rescuing Krais was truly the sole reason.
"Among other things," Enkrid admitted, revealing a part of his intentions.
The werewolves, the Grey Hounds of Aspen, and even the mage—they all lingered in his mind.
He wanted to test himself against them, the urge bubbling up like a boiling geyser.
Where did he currently stand?
How was his condition?
How far had his swordsmanship come?
'How much have I grown?'
He didn't know.
He had no sense of it.
That was how it always was.
You could only see clearly when you understood, but for Enkrid, each day brought something new.
He was an explorer discovering new lands daily.
A pathfinder blazing new trails.
A mountaineer climbing uncharted peaks and a hunter venturing into unknown territories.
Though he followed signposts, he rarely understood where he stood.
That was why.
The moment he heard of Frogs appearing, he had calmly assessed his condition and decided to rest fully for a day before acting.
The Frog seemed like the perfect benchmark to gauge his progress.
'Will my sword work against them?'
The last time he faced a Frog, one blow had been enough to make his ribs cry out in protest.
This time, though?
Not all Frogs were the same, but still...
'They're formidable.'
There could be no better adversary to compare himself against.
If he failed, the Frog would become the wall blocking his "today."
But that was fine.
He was prepared for that.
Had there been even one squad member present, none of this would have happened.
Which was precisely why it fell on Enkrid to take action.
Was this a coincidence?
Or good fortune?
Or perhaps misfortune?
Misfortune, after all, had always been like an old friend trailing behind him.
It was the swimmer's job to navigate the river of bad luck.
Thinking of Rem and the squad, Enkrid suddenly realized how narrow his world had been.
'How ridiculous.'
Once, he had considered his squad members as mid-tier soldiers.
Mid-tier?
How laughable.
None of his squad members fit within the soldier rank system anymore.
Now he knew that.
If even one of them had been here, facing a mere frog wouldn't have been anything to worry about.
'But right now, it's just me.'
He couldn't abandon Krais.
Nor did he want to back down.
With his left foot, he recalled the days he faced Rem in battle.
With his right foot, he remembered what he had learned from Jaxen.
With his left foot again, he carried Audin.
And with his right, Ragna.
Every step he took was a recollection of all he had learned.
From countless instructors, through the repetition of countless days.
The fact that the adversary was a Frog didn't scare him.
Perhaps this was the Heart of the Beast at work.
Calm, composure, boldness—no, more than that, a fierce sense of challenge surged within him.
Enkrid's pupils flared like flames.
Thud.
Esther tapped his chest with her paw, as if to say, "Not yet."
"I know."
Enkrid answered and kept walking until he arrived at the mansion.
The bald Gilpin was waiting for him.
"Where?"
"The parlor."
Where was the parlor again?
Following Gilpin's lead into the mansion, Enkrid stopped in front of the parlor door.
'Am I walking into this prepared to die?'
Or was he just intoxicated by the thrill of the challenge?
He didn't know.
The answer lay beyond the door.
Esther hopped off his chest, bouncing to the side.
Watching her, Enkrid wondered.
'Will words work with this opponent?'
Judging by the fact that Krais was alive and unharmed, they probably would.
Still, that didn't mean Enkrid could skip the step of neutralizing his opponent first.
If you came to fight, you fought.
What would talking achieve?
Enkrid took a short breath, deciding to skip words and speak through action.
Bang.
He kicked the door open, rolled forward, and flung his arm as if tossing something.
The Whistle Dagger zipped through the air at terrifying speed.
'Is this guy insane?'
Presence, followed by bloodlust.
The piercing intent of a killer, and then the attack.
No hesitation.
It was as if this sequence had been meticulously planned before he even reached the door.
Bang!
The door flew open, and the intruder moved.
The moment Frog saw the flying blade, he grabbed his weapon, deflecting it in a flash of movement.
For an ordinary human, such actions would have been miraculous.
But not for a Frog.
Whoosh. Clang. Thunk.
The dagger bounced off his blade and embedded itself into a crude leather ornament on the wall.
The one who had thrown the dagger came charging in, sword drawn.
Clang!
The drawn blade traced a bold arc from above, slicing downward.
The Frog hooked his fingers into a loop on the sword handle, a design unique to him.
Due to his slick, rounded fingers, he had created a weapon he called the Loop Sword.
By curling his fingers through the loop, the Frog could grip firmly and swing efficiently.
Whoosh. Clang!
The clash of steel signaled the start of their duel.
Sparks danced in the air as their weapons collided, a relentless series of rapid blows.
Enkrid blocked over thirty strikes, even countering occasionally, all the while marveling internally.
'This guy's fun.'
But escaping was another matter entirely.
'What happens if I run away?'
Everyone else in the guild would die, that's what.
Every last one of them.
If caught, he'd end up as another pile of meat alongside the dead guild members.
That much was obvious.
That Frog bastard wouldn't hesitate to do it either.
They said he'd come in spring, yet he had come earlier than expected.
Still, Krais had his own measure of belief.
If even one of his squadmates arrived, things might turn around.
Perhaps Rem, Audin, Jaxen, or Ragna.
'Not the squad leader!'
When the door swung open, Krais had hope.
When he saw who had barged in, he felt disappointed.
And now?
Now he was so stunned, his jaw hung open without a single thought of closing it.
And it didn't even look like he was being overwhelmed.
At least, not to Krais's eyes.
Enkrid focused on the opponent's weapon, which seemed to bend as if alive, and raised his blade to counter.
Bang!
The impact spread from his forearm through his entire body.
Simply enduring through brute strength would have been foolish.
Instead, he redirected the force.
He blended the technique into his movements.
What had once seemed impossible was now second nature.
Clack!
He deflected the blade with a sidestep, letting it slide off, then thrust his sword forward.
The blade cut through the air with a hum.
The Frog retaliated with another heavy strike.
Bang-bang!
Block. Parry. Redirect. Evade.
How was this even possible?
It was thanks to his experience fighting a mage's thorny vines.
Countless battles had forged the current Enkrid.
Battles that taught him how to swing, dodge, and defend with his blade.
Defense was his foundation.
He blocked and blocked again.
The enemy wielded a hunting knife-like blade with a wide edge—an uncommon weapon favored by most Frogs.
Known as a loop sword, it was built for devastating strikes.
The sheer weight of the weapon, combined with the Frog's extraordinary strength, allowed it to move as if it were a rapier.
Enkrid lost himself in the rhythm of the fight.
The enemy's sword, his own sword.
Points connected to lines.
Lines curving and crashing like falling lightning.
That was the Frog's weapon.
And Enkrid met the descending thunderbolt with his own blade.
Unable to redirect the sheer force, his knees buckled slightly under the strain. Even so, he pressed forward with a smooth counter.
The Frog retreated half a step, thrusting its blade forward.
A wide-edged weapon used for a thrust—how unconventional.
Yet, to Enkrid, that thrust felt like a sharp drill.
His heightened senses danced along the edge of the blade.
Originally sharp, his instincts had been further honed under Jaxen's training, becoming razor-like.
In this world where only the blade, his opponent, and himself existed,
He lost track of time, engrossed in the battle.
Block after block.
When he saw an opening, he struck.
He slashed, thrust, and parried.
He even incorporated techniques from Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.
A feint slash halted mid-swing, turned into a piercing thrust.
This blended seamlessly with his evolving swordsmanship.
Perhaps it could even be called a fusion of northern heavy and precise techniques.
The Frog resisted most attacks with sheer strength,
Their species boasted extraordinary muscle power far beyond humans.
Their accompanying reflexes and agility only amplified their physical prowess.
Bang! Crack! Thud!
Some strikes were dodged, others were deflected.
At one point, the edge of a blade grazed his cheek.
The Frog's fist slammed against his armor shortly after.
Enkrid countered by stabbing for its heart, but the Frog spun its body to evade.
"Grrk!"
Foaming with excitement, the Frog growled deep from its throat.
Enkrid, in contrast, maintained utter silence.
He simply focused.
Focused entirely on one thing.
'Don't scatter your efforts.'
Gather everything and focus.
He didn't dodge by sight.
He trusted the feel of the blade, dodging by instinct.
Moments of clarity followed.
Enkrid entered a new realm of perception.
The Frog's fingers gripping the loop of its blade.
The slight shift in its broad feet.
The hidden movements of the violent muscles beneath its slippery skin.
His hands adjusted accordingly.
His arms moved.
His feet repositioned.
His torso twisted.
Layered concentration upon concentration.
Forgetting points, forgetting lines,
Enkrid glimpsed the next moment of the battle's outcome.
It might've been nothing more than a fleeting vision.
But he saw it.
And having seen it, he understood.
He acted immediately.
Until now, he had targeted the Frog's heart at every opportunity.
Only the heart.
This thrust was no different.
It was a strike imbued with an unyielding will to pierce.
The blade flashed through the space between them.
The Frog shifted its right foot back, dodging with a practiced step.
Ping. Grrkk.
The blade grazed its chest armor.
The Frog's cheeks puffed out in agitation.
Bruk!
The strike almost touched its heart?
Unable to suppress its fury, the Frog's blade fell toward Enkrid's neck with renewed speed.
A thunderous slash.
The briefest of moments.
Enkrid withdrew his blade mid-thrust.
Bang!
The clash of their blades stopped both mid-attack, suspended in the air.
"You think you can challenge me with brute strength? Stupid human," the Frog growled like a beast.
Enkrid responded not with words, but by recreating the vision he had seen.
'If I do it like this...'
Ting.
He softened his posture by bending his knees slightly, adding flexibility.
He absorbed the Frog's force by blending Heavy and Precision techniques.
The Frog's blade bore down as though it would split Enkrid's head open.
"You damn fool, captain!" Krais shouted in alarm.
Both combatants ignored him.
At the decisive moment, Enkrid pushed with newfound strength, running his blade along the surface of the Frog's weapon.
Ting-ting-ting!
The energy transferred, unbalancing the Frog's stance for a split second.
Reflexively, the Frog blocked its heart with its forearm.
Aiming for the heart would've been meaningless.
So instead, Enkrid's blade curved gracefully.
Slice.
He aimed for the Frog's left arm.
Though the Frog dodged, blood gushed from the wound.
It hadn't lost the arm entirely, but the slick, durable skin had been cut through.
Even as the Frog's cheeks puffed to their limit, its blade countered with brutal precision.
Its wide-edged sword swung down with devastating force.
Enkrid raised his right hand to block.
The blade crashed onto a gauntlet he had taken from a necromancer mage.
Crack. Snap.
With a jarring sound, the blade deflected.
The gauntlet's surface was dented and slashed, but his wrist remained intact.
It was the harmony of Audin's deflection training and the gauntlet's resilience.
"You crazy bastard," the Frog muttered.
Its left arm hung limp, bleeding freely.
Even with its regenerative abilities, this was far from pleasant.
The Frog glared at Enkrid with terrifying eyes.
'Ah.'
Enkrid sensed the end approaching.
His right wrist could no longer muster strength, and his blade slipped from his grasp.
He caught it with his left hand, but how many exchanges could he endure?
He didn't know.
But the final strike he had landed gave him a sense of satisfaction.
A strike that had aimed for the heart to create an opening.
It was truly a commendable move.
Frogs, a race known for identifying talent,
Looked at Enkrid with disgust.
Why?
Because of his overwhelming talent?
No.
It was because he was an unprecedented type.
A type that had to be killed.
Without question, he had to die.
Though he seemed to have reached his limit...

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