Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 384 - 384 -You're Alive
"It's half a day. My plan from the start was to only hold out for half a day."
Just before the fight, Krang spoke. This was the first time Matthew had heard this.
As soon as Matthew heard those words, he looked outside. It wasn't sunset yet. The twilight hadn't even begun.
'Do I have to last until evening?'
He expected it wouldn't be easy.
But.
Whoosh.
With a slight twist of his wrist, the whip tip moved forward, as if dancing through the air.
The opponent didn't even look at it and struck the leather near the whip's end with his elbow.
The impact was light, but the force transferred through the whip dissipated, causing it to lose its shape and become slack. He had precisely cut off the part where the power was being transferred.
Matthew felt as though the power had been completely drained from him, but he clenched his teeth and gathered his strength.
He swung his arm wide, shooting the weight at the end of the whip forward like throwing a projectile.
Whoosh.
The whip cut through the air.
Meanwhile, Enkrid swung his sword.
A lightning-fast strike, from above to below, vertically plunging down.
Matthew could feel the force within it.
'If I block, an opening will appear.'
No matter how skilled he was, someone who's knight wouldn't be able to stop that.
The opponent struck just above the recut portion of Enkrid's sword and pushed it aside.
It wasn't a contest of strength, but a deft use of technique to deflect the force sideways.
Enkrid's body shifted for an instant, and in that brief moment, his balance faltered.
But he immediately spun around and, with sparks flying from the friction, thrust forward.
It was an unconventional move, a technique developed when he had defeated Aishia.
It was the thrust with
Will
, a move of the momentum.
Whoosh.
The opponent evaded it as if dodging a stone thrown by a child, twisting his body to avoid it.
His evasive movement was so nonchalant, it almost seemed natural.
Enkrid, after sheathing his blade, held Silver with both hands and swung, thrust, slashed, and moved, changing distance multiple times.
Matthew, too, kept swinging his whip, feeling the force wane with every strike.
Meanwhile, their ally, armed with a trident, occasionally thrust her spear.
Despite her injuries, she was still formidable.
But the opponent didn't even properly dodge the trident.
He flicked it away carelessly, as though swatting at a bothersome fly, or struck it with his sword, altering its course before it could touch him.
Matthew's own whip was equally ineffective.
At least Enkrid was holding on. Because of that, Matthew felt despair.
'Can we really last until evening?'
It was impossible.
Enkrid could fall any moment now.
The sword grazed his cheek.
A cut, with a splash of blood that scattered into the air. Enkrid, indifferent to the wound, rolled sideways and swung his sword horizontally.
Whoosh.
It was a strike so powerful it seemed like it could split the air, but the opponent simply took a step back, unbothered.
Enkrid's sword passed where the man had been, without even a sound on the ground. The opponent avoided it without breaking a sweat. Watching this, Matthew felt a crushing sense of helplessness.
It was a wall. A different existence. Their talent was on a whole different level. Even their very birth was different.
Forcing himself to endure against such an opponent.
'This is impossible.'
Despair and agony filled his chest. The hand holding the whip began to lose its strength.
He couldn't stop the collapse of his spirit.
Swinging the whip felt like striking a cliff. Even if he hit it for a hundred years, the cliff wouldn't fall. It was an obvious truth.
How could he destroy this cliff with just a whip?
In the meantime, their ally with the trident suffered a fatal wound.
Despite Enkrid's relentless strikes and overwhelming presence, it still happened.
The opponent threw a dagger from behind, and in the gap between breaths, the dagger flew straight for his ally's neck, cutting through it. The mere act of throwing a dagger was enough to send chills down Matthew's spine.
Blood spurted and gushed out. His ally wrapped his hands around his neck, and Krang, watching, approached to bind it with cloth.
His words, though faint, reached Matthew.
"Hold on."
There was no time to look back. But the thought that had been swirling in his head since earlier wouldn't leave.
'Does this even mean anything?'
If he could save Krang, it would have meaning. If he could endure for that, he would. But that seemed impossible.
They couldn't hold out much longer, and Krang would die. Should he let him run away?
No, then he would become someone who had given up, as Krang, his lord, had said.
At that moment, black paint seemed to stain his heart.
"Ha!"
Bang!
With a shout, a tremendous noise rang out. It was so loud it almost deafened him. The sound of the shout and the explosion that followed both assaulted his eardrums.
The intensity of the shout matched the force of the collision that followed.
Matthew, bleeding from his side, saw the figure locked in combat.
The figure had a dark head of hair, a large back. Unlike himself, the opponent didn't seem to lose any momentum.
"I got him."
The person spoke.
"You were caught."
The opponent responded.
Matthew finally saw the enemy's face properly.
"Let's keep going."
Then Enkrid spoke. There was something childlike in his voice.
In no time at all, their positions had shifted. Enkrid had been relentlessly pressing, and that was the result.
Because of this, Matthew could see Enkrid's face, and upon seeing it, his chest tightened, and goosebumps shot up from his feet to the top of his head.
Matthew knew.
They couldn't last until evening.
It was a distant dream for Enkrid to win against this new opponent.
Proof of that was the blood dripping from Enkrid's side, the scratch on his cheek, and the damaged arm guard that was hanging off.
And yet.
'Smile.'
Enkrid smiled. Even as his rhythm faltered with every sword exchange, he smiled.
In that instant, the despair, the black paint on his heart, began to fade.
Somewhere, sunlight pierced through, cutting across the blackness.
Strength returned to Matthew's arm.
He swung the whip.
More exchanges took place.
In the meantime, Matthew dodged three daggers.
Three times, luck was on his side, or he would have been struck.
He acknowledged it.
It was only because Enkrid had intervened that the daggers lost their power.
If it were just him, blocking them would have been impossible.
The fourth dagger, however, struck his thigh.
'Of course, they would aim for the neck in one swift motion.'
Even while facing an opponent far weaker than himself, the enemy sealed off his mobility first.
'No, that's probably thanks to Enkrid.'
Because of Enkrid, the daggers didn't strike his neck but ended up in his leg.
Matthew stepped back. Now, he would only be a hindrance.
Krang, who had been behind him, hooked his arm under Matthew's and helped him retreat.
"You can't go any closer."
"I know that much. We'll lose, right?"
"We're holding on."
"But why is he smiling?"
"I... don't know."
Even Krang's eyes were shining. Matthew was barely holding on, thanks to what Enkrid had shown him.
Still, it was far too early for the sun to set.
"When do we get reinforcements?"
Matthew asked. His duty was to protect Krang. But beyond that, other desires had started to form in his mind.
"We can't let him die here."
Enkrid had to survive. For that, Matthew was ready to throw himself into danger if necessary.
Why? He didn't know. It was just a feeling of exhilaration that filled his whole body.
He was certain that he was not the one who would die here.
"If that guy had any sense, he'd be here a bit sooner."
Krang said this and pulled over a chair for Matthew to sit. Then he checked Matthew's thigh injury.
Kraang wasn't just an ordinary human. To tend to injuries in a situation like this, he was far from average.
Naturally, his gaze shifted. To his comrade, who had sustained a fatal wound to the neck.
"She won't die."
Krang said. If they just held on for a little longer, things would turn out that way.
Both of them turned their bodies and looked at the battle ahead.
It was a fight that was difficult to intervene in.
On one side, a figure wielded a sword with no emotion, cutting off the flow, like a doll.
On the other, there was the wild force of a beast. Explosive, relentless, and not holding back any power.
The flow of battle was being cut off. No matter what he did, the rhythm didn't continue.
It wasn't just above Aishia's level; it was definitely on par with Rem's.
No, was it even worse? He didn't know. It wasn't the time to think about such things.
He slashed vertically, horizontally, stabbed, and twisted, mixing in Valen-style mercenary sword techniques.
It was a feint. He pretended to be winded, pulling the opponent in, and when they closed the distance, he aimed for them.
It was a flash of Will, the peak of skills honed through Aishia's teachings.
The thrust was like lightning. It reached its target almost instantly.
The first thrust today, combining what he learned from the soldiers and everything about speed up until now.
Yet, it was blocked. By something as simple as that.
Ping
Ding ding.
A single short sword was nonchalantly swung to the side, deflecting the end of the blade, which seemed to glide across the sword.
It was a type of blade that looked like a magnificent work of art.
Enkrid released the blade into the air, gripping the silver sword as he leaped forward, using his body as an arrow.
The opponent was closing the distance, just as fast as Enkrid was advancing.
The space was narrowing. They had entered close-quarters combat.
But soon, the opponent retreated, jumping back as if they had disappeared.
The rhythm was completely broken.
He ignored it.
Enkrid stretched his foot out, kicking the midsection of the falling blade.
With a
thunk
, he caught the sword in midair and snatched the silver sword before it could fall.
His opponent, who had been watching this, suddenly closed the gap and thrust a sword toward him.
This man was skilled at exploiting openings. He cut off the rhythm and only fought when the timing suited him.
Still, Enkrid held his ground.
Normally, people would tire of this kind of fight. They would call it unreasonable, complain, and suffer.
Enkrid didn't do that.
'This is the first time.'
It was new. It was different. All of it was a thrill and fun to him.
"I'll kill you, then I'll kill Aishia."
The man said, as if discussing a casual dinner of mashed potatoes and roasted duck.
His tone was flat. He was simply stating facts. If he killed Enkrid, today would repeat, but if Aishia died...
Would today still repeat?
"I won't let anyone else die."
No. Krang's words were full of resolve.
Would the worries about today be enough to send him spiraling away from this moment?
'I don't know.'
He didn't want to know anything. Right now, he only wanted to focus on swinging his sword.
That was enough for him in this moment.
Hooah!
"
It was a shout mixed with joy and exhilaration.
Enjoying the moment, focusing only on the sword, his body, his opponent, the strikes, and the defense, his mind was full of joy that was overflowing.
Enkrid felt all the experiences from the repeated days coalesce into one.
Before thinking, his body moved.
It felt as though the gods themselves were guiding his limbs.
On top of that, he began to see his opponent's movements before they happened.
The opponent would raise their sword over their right shoulder, preparing to thrust. Enkrid could already see them gripping their sword with both hands and lifting it.
Seeing this, Enkrid took a half-step forward, occupying the space and pushing forward.
Enkrid twisted his body and swung his sword.
This time, instead of aiming for the head, he targeted the opponent's forearm.
It seemed like a regular strike, but for the first time, he had stolen the rhythm.
It was a half-beat faster.
If compared to earlier, the speed and trajectory seemed normal, but still, the sword made contact.
Pah!
The strike sliced through the opponent's forearm guard. Blood splattered. The opponent immediately pushed out with their left arm to block, then retreated.
"...Hmm."
The opponent was surprised, but not panicked. A small injury, but no big deal.
They resumed fighting.
Enkrid didn't have the time to relish his small victory. His opponent was the epitome of monotony, as dry as unseasoned chicken breast.
The opponent wielded indifference as a weapon.
There was no thrill, no pride.
So what?
He just swung his sword. Enkrid did just that.
If it worked once, it could work again.
But right now, it wasn't working.
The half-beat faster strike had only succeeded once.
In a fight, rhythm was always relative.
Now, sliding into his opponent's rhythm was possible only because his body moved first.
What if it doesn't work? That didn't matter.
Enkrid feigned running forward, stepping not on the ground, but on a wall.
He mimicked Aishia's light movements.
The opponent, waiting for it, swung their sword diagonally, charging forward with a speed twice as fast as before.
Enkrid anticipated it, but it was still difficult to block in time. The blade threatened to cut his head.
Enkrid quickly pulled back his sword to block. He couldn't afford to miss.
Thunk!
He blocked it, but his right wrist twisted painfully.
He tried to twist his body to release the block, but it failed. The force from the blade sent him flying backward.
With a crash, Enkrid landed on his back and rolled up to his feet.
"
Ugh.
He coughed up blood. The blow had damaged his internal organs, as it had been a strike with Will.
Enkrid didn't know, but it was a technique that transmitted shock to the defender's body with Will.
His legs trembled, and his vision blurred.
His body, pushed beyond its limits, wasn't responding.
Enkrid blinked several times.
And someone suddenly blocked his path.
"If you want to kill him, you'll have to go through me first. I'm willing to trade my life for that."
It was Krang.
Enkrid attempted to rise, but he realized his ribs had been broken.
"Lord!" Matthew shouted.
Enkrid managed to get up and spoke.
"Who decided that?"
The opponent had come here to kill Krang.
"Let's finish this, shall we?"
Enkrid braced himself for death. He was prepared for the repeat of today.
Was this another wall?
If it was, then he would just climb over it.
But it wasn't a wall. At least, something had shifted. It was definitely not the same as before.
The opponent, indifferent, raised their sword. They would repeat the same attacking motions again, cutting and slashing.
At that very moment, a sharp instinct kicked in.
It came from behind.
Something was flying through the air.
Crash!
A loud noise echoed. A mass crashed through the window, breaking the frame as it entered.
The person quickly closed the gap and rushed toward Enkrid.
Then, they struck the stunned knight who was about to sever Enkrid's rhythm.
Enkrid barely made out what the person was holding.
It was a sword, longer and thicker than a regular one.
As the orange light from the sunset streamed through the window, Enkrid could see the figure who had broken through.
He recognized them immediately.
"You're alive."
Thank you all for reading!
Thank you!

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