Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 115 - 115 - Aren't You Going to Sleep?
Chapter 115 - Aren't You Going to Sleep?
Enkrid sparred intensely with Rem in a flurry of rapid sword strikes.
With Ragna, it was more of a light exchange of sword techniques, testing their responses.
Meanwhile, his training with Audin involved bare-handed strikes and grappling moves.
When the sparring finally ended:
"Now you're taking baby steps," Rem commented.
While the phrase "baby steps" could be seen as belittling, Enkrid knew otherwise.
A faint smile lingered on Rem's face—one of clear satisfaction from Enkrid's progress.
"You've reduced the waste," Ragna added.
Although not exactly flattering, Ragna's words carried weight.
His typically half-closed eyes now gleamed with an unusual fervor.
This was someone who rarely showed interest in anything.
For him to exhibit this much satisfaction after sparring meant he was genuinely impressed.
A cold intensity radiated from Ragna's gaze.
"You've been consistently honing your senses," Jaxen praised calmly.
"You've taken a step closer to divinity," Audin remarked cryptically.
The meaning behind Audin's words was odd enough that Enkrid shot him a look, only for Rem to speak up first.
"Doesn't that sound like he's praying for you to drop dead?"
"No, Brother. It's a blessing," Audin countered.
Blessing?
Really?
With that, the sparring came to an end.
"That's the infamous mad squad leader?"
"No, he's officially the mad platoon leader now."
"What even is that guy?"
"He's the one everyone keeps talking about."
"So, the rumors about him being a training-obsessed lunatic were true."
The murmurs of onlookers trickled in.
People who had previously kept their distance, or been too shocked to speak, were now whispering amongst themselves.
Enkrid stood, shoulders heaving from exertion.
His wrists ached, and his tired limbs felt weak.
Despite the exhaustion, he wasn't in a bad mood.
Still, a thought lingered:
'It's frustrating.'
Because of his injured wrist, his sparring partners had held back.
That fact gnawed at him.
Even so, he had learned something.
The culmination of all his past experiences—the battles beyond the Cross Guard's wall, the fight against the Frog, and more—had converged into today's training.
He had gained new insights, ones he wanted to reflect on.
In short, he wanted to fight more.
"Hold it there. Push any further, and your wrist will be completely wrecked," Rem interjected, his keen perception cutting through Enkrid's thoughts.
He knew.
Resting was important.
It wasn't a lesson he had to learn again.
Enkrid exhaled deeply and shrugged.
The crowd began to disperse.
Some greeted Enkrid as they left.
"You made it back?"
It was Vengeance, the platoon leader who now shared equal rank with Enkrid.
"Yeah," Enkrid replied casually, the age gap between them naturally relaxing their exchange.
"Good to see you."
For some reason, Vengeance looked sheepish.
After exchanging brief nods with others like Bell and the sewing craftsman, Enkrid returned to the barracks.
"So, spill it. What have you been up to?" Rem suddenly asked, his curiosity evident.
He wanted to know what kind of experiences had pushed Enkrid—a slow learner who relied on sheer effort—to improve so drastically.
Rem's earlier comment about "baby steps" had been high praise, meant for someone who had broken through a significant wall.
Even though they had held back due to Enkrid's injury, the change was clear.
Enkrid had demonstrated a cut that bent like a whip, over and over.
The difference between the Enkrid who had left for reconnaissance at the Cross Guard and the one who returned was unmistakable.
Confidence.
No hesitation.
Some might call it composure.
Others might describe it as muscle memory.
What was clear was that everything Enkrid had built up until now had been refined.
Even Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin gathered, curious.
Andrew, Mac, and Enri leaned in as well.
"Feels like I'm some storyteller," Enkrid muttered, seeing his platoon members crowd around him.
What was so hard about telling a story?
Enkrid recounted his experiences plainly—falling into a trap, facing spearmen in the front and archers in the back, Finn's sharp eye, the Lykans, the mage on the wall, and his fight with the Frog.
He was honest, even attributing much of it to luck.
His matter-of-fact tone contrasted starkly with the gravity of the situations he described.
"Do you have some kind of curse where you only improve by nearly dying?" Rem asked with a chuckle.
To him, it certainly seemed that way.
Each time Enkrid faced a life-threatening situation, his skills would take a significant leap.
Maybe the platoon leader was a genius after all?
No, Rem dismissed that thought.
He had trained Enkrid personally and knew otherwise.
It had to be the near-death experiences triggering something in him.
"Whatever. It was entertaining," Rem concluded, shrugging off his musings.
Others nodded in agreement.
Andrew, however, looked dazed as he asked:
"You really came back alive from all that?"
Was it really just luck?
The earlier sparring session had shown a stark difference in skill.
Once, Andrew had thought he could hold his own against Enkrid.
But now, the gap between them felt insurmountable.
Had he been slacking in his training?
'No, that's not it. Absolutely not.'
Even as part of this "mad squad," where every day was grueling, he had pushed himself.
His skills had improved as a result.
Mac had said it before:
"As much as I hate it, you've got to admit that sparring with Rem will make you better."
Andrew had given his all, training harder than ever.
Yet the gap between him and Enkrid had widened.
"It was just luck," Enkrid said, his usual answer.
Andrew had no reply.
As Enkrid suggested they turn in for the night, he checked his wrist.
It seemed worse than it had been after the fight with the Frog.
"You'll need to rest in the barracks tomorrow because of your wrist," Jaxen observed.
"It's not bad enough to visit the medical tent, but yeah, combat's out of the question," Enkrid agreed.
"You're telling me."
"I wouldn't mind resting either," Jaxen muttered, followed by similar comments from Krais, Rem, and Ragna.
Enkrid had expected as much.
If the higher-ups asked why he had sparred despite his injured wrist, Rem would probably shrug and say:
"That's just our squad's tradition. Didn't you know?"
In any case, rest was necessary.
His wrist hadn't fully recovered from the fight with the Frog, and pushing it further could cause lasting damage.
Enkrid nodded.
"This is just more convenient."
Enkrid spoke as he showed the guard sword he had drawn.
Though the blade had some nicks and a dent in the middle, it was still usable.
"Everyone has something that doesn't feel quite right in their hands."
Ragna nodded in agreement.
It was the night of their return.
A time to sleep.
As they all lay on their bunks, Rem spoke.
"Let's not lose to a Frog."
Wasn't it strange to add something as dismissive as "a Frog" to that sentence?
"Well, that's true. We need more training. There's so much to do."
Ragna added.
Jaxen gave a silent, icy glance in response.
"Squad Leader, with training, everything's possible."
Audin, always the smooth talker, chimed in.
"I'll win next time."
He replied boldly, prompting a round of chuckles from the others.
"Confident, huh?"
Rem said on behalf of everyone, and just as the group was about to settle back into the night's darkness, Rem spoke again.
"When it's fully healed, there's a lot to teach you—bad habits to correct too."
"There's no end to training, Brother."
"There's still more to do."
From Rem to Jaxen, they all spoke up once more.
Learning something new.
Progressing.
Walking the path and walking it again.
That was what Enkrid deeply wished for.
For now, though, he had to focus on recovery.
His wrist still felt stiff.
'Are they trying to keep me off the battlefield?'
It felt strange.
The people worried about him were certainly an odd bunch.
Still, would they fight harder tomorrow morning in his absence?
That was unclear.
Enkrid still didn't entirely understand why they followed him so devotedly.
All he could do was guess.
And honestly, he didn't feel the need to drag it into the realm of certainty.
There was no reason to stir things up unnecessarily; things were fine as they were.
If needed, they'd tell him themselves.
He would respond to them as he always had.
"Let's do that."
He replied and finally tried to get some rest.
But then—
"Anyway, about the Frog."
Rem, half sitting up, swung his hand through the air as if cutting something.
"You block like this, then strike like this. Faster than the bastard. Just wait until your wrist heals—I'll engrain it into your bones: how to kill a Frog."
"Instead of the standard sword style, there's another basic form to master and make your own."
"You still need to maintain the isolation technique without using your right hand, Brother."
"... And don't let your guard down."
The entire squad wouldn't stop talking.
"Don't you guys sleep?"
If left alone, they might chatter all night.
What was this about?
Were they just excited to see him after a while?
Or maybe they were bored without someone to bother?
But if that were the case, why did Andrew's eyes look so worn out?
"I'm going to sleep. I was already feeling drowsy anyway."
Rem's words were the last.
The group finally sought rest.
From one corner, where it had been hiding its presence, Esther crept into Enkrid's arms.
Still lying down, Enkrid reflected on the fight with the Frog and the day's sparring.
The day's sparring was incomplete.
Yet his blood still boiled.
Perhaps this was a process of confirming everything he'd done so far.
But why did it feel like a new path forward was revealing itself?
Between reflections, stray thoughts, and the warmth Esther gave from his chest, sleep overtook him naturally.
Thus, Enkrid fell asleep.
Not long after—
"My talent would be considered good anywhere, doesn't it?"
Andrew muttered quietly, with a hint of lamentation.
Beside him, Mac didn't know how to respond.
By his standards, Andrew was an exceptional talent—his improvement was visible with every passing day.
But this squad?
'This, well, this is something else.'
Where would you even find people like this?
Probably nowhere.
It was Mac's first experience with a group this skilled.
Even their leader, Enkrid, was astonishing.
His improvement was visible to the point where Mac had once told Andrew not to challenge him.
Now, Enkrid seemed to have crossed some threshold, giving an entirely different impression.
At a loss for words, Mac finally said,
"Spend less time comparing yourself to others and swing your sword one more time instead."
It was advice born of the squad's unhinged philosophy.
Andrew sighed heavily in response.
Morning came, and Enkrid opened his eyes.
'Overslept?'
"Meow."
Esther rubbed its face against his chest.
Instinctively, he raised his right hand to pet it, but then switched to his left.
His right wrist, immobilized by a splint, was utterly unusable.
With his left fingertips, he gently stroked Esther's fur.
Esther purred contentedly.
Looks like you overslept too.
Sunlight filtered into the tent.
As Enkrid propped himself up halfway, Krais entered from the tent's entrance.
"You're awake?"
"Seems like I overslept."
"Well, that's understandable. One or two days of rest isn't enough to shake off all that fatigue, considering what you've been through."
Krais had clearly heard about everything that had happened to Enkrid last night.
While he knew his squad leader had monstrous stamina, no one could endure such grueling tasks without feeling fatigue—it would be inhuman otherwise.
"Let's get you some food first."
After a quick wash and shaking off the drowsiness, Enkrid had breakfast.
Breakfast consisted of well-cooked potatoes and thinly sliced, salted, and grilled bacon.
"The food's pretty good."
"They're putting in some effort, I suppose. Oh, and the rest of the squad has already headed to the front."
Krais gestured upward as he spoke.
Did that mean they had high expectations for this squad?
Was this special treatment?
Had Rem and the others moved ahead to give him time to rest?
It seemed likely they were trying to give him a break, using his wrist as an excuse to push forward themselves.
Would the squad members really act according to their leader's intentions?
That was uncertain.
Even direct encouragement hadn't always worked in the past.
Perhaps for today, they might fight a little harder as compensation for letting him rest.
If that meant Rem, who had vowed to kill three enemies, would go for five today, then maybe it was worth expecting.
But would they fight as their commander envisioned?
That was anyone's guess.
In the realm of strategy and tactics, who knew what role his squad would play?
This train of thought led nowhere.
After all, he had never learned large-scale tactical operations.
Their battalion commander would handle things his way.
Marcus the War Maniac.
He would surely live up to his name.
After finishing his meal, Enkrid began practicing the isolation technique lightly enough not to strain his wrist.
Then, he moved on to his usual routine of reviewing and reflecting on what he'd learned.
'Did I make any mistakes?'
If so, where?
How could he avoid repeating them?
Every experience gained in life-and-death battles was a treasure.
These were words spoken long ago by an instructor he'd met in a small fishing village during his wanderings.
Those words still lingered within Enkrid.
As he replayed his battles alone, his body began to itch.
Unable to remain still, he stood, but his splinted and bandaged wrist made it impossible to properly hold a sword.
Standing there, Enkrid half-closed his eyes and started painting images in his mind.
Audin, Ragna, Rem.
He began the previous day's sparring sessions in reverse, moving back to the fight with the Frog, the night against the mage, the moment surrounded by lycanthropes, and the skirmishes with elite soldiers.
'Luck.'
Luck had played a part.
But it was the kind of luck earned through effort, calculated luck.
Repeating his thoughts and movements, his blood began to boil.
It seemed impossible not to swing a sword.
'Training-obsessed lunatic.'
Hadn't someone called him that before?
'That nickname suits me all too well.'
As his stray thoughts came to an end, a sense of calm settled in.

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