Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 335 - 335 - [Title]
Chapter 335 - [Title]
Whether they were noble lords, merchant guild members, or city officials, visitors kept coming. However, Enkrid no longer paid them any mind.
It wasn't a problem—Krais was handling it well in the middle.
When told to use his wits, Krais truly delivered.
"Am I to come all this way only to be denied an audience with a mere city soldier?"
Even when an aged noble showed up, Krais responded like a mechanical doll:
"Yes, you cannot meet him."
Occasionally, some would resort to displays of force.
"Do you wish to fight?"
In such cases, they faced Mehlun the Frog, who served as Krais' bodyguard. Few were bold enough to challenge Mehlun's intimidation.
What seemed extraordinary around here, for Enkrid and his circle was, in fact, the norm. Still, Krais didn't forcibly eject anyone or rely solely on brute strength.
"He's preparing for a critical battle."
He gave appropriate excuses and invoked the royal court as leverage.
"This is a matter being directly handled by the central palace."
That alone silenced most noble upstarts, while merchants didn't concern him at all.
"If you have complaints, take them to the Rockfreed Merchant Guild. They're the ones under an exclusive contract with the lord."
He simply deflected.
Leona Rockfreed proved to be highly capable. She handled mid-level merchant guilds with ease, managing and resolving disputes as needed.
"Does the name 'Rockfreed' carry so little weight?"
Just invoking her guild's name resolved half the issues. Even when larger guilds under noble sponsorship arrived, it made no difference.
What they sought was access to trade routes and profit through Enkrid.
Leona promised them exactly that.
"The trade routes will expand. Our guild alone cannot monopolize it all."
Naturally, merchants who once tried to approach Enkrid shifted their focus to Leona.
She screened and selected the best among them. Assessing and recognizing the value of goods was her specialty.
Watching her work, Krais couldn't help but feel satisfied.
"To think a single appearance from the Commander could simplify this mess so much."
Without Enkrid, Krais imagined he'd still be negotiating endless minor details with Leona.
It was clear—Enkrid's presence alone was invaluable.
Indeed, he was a figure worthy of being a salon's crown jewel and ace.
Even with Krais diligently managing these affairs, Enkrid wasn't idle.
In fact, he was busier than ever, pursuing exactly what he wanted.
"Come at me!"
Obsessed with sparring, Enkrid had no room for leisure.
"Don't kill yourself," Rem quipped as they trained together, his wit sharpening alongside their duels.
The sparring sessions were intense.
From an outsider's perspective, it seemed like they were recklessly risking their lives, but to both Enkrid and Rem, it was mutually beneficial.
Naturally, Dunbakel and Teresa joined in, with Audin occasionally assisting. Only Ragna refrained.
Ragna would sometimes swing his sword into the air or fall into a meditative trance, resembling slumber.
Everyone but Ragna couldn't help but be astonished at Enkrid.
'When did he become this capable?'
Dunbakel sensed the widening gap in skill.
Teresa recognized an insurmountable wall she couldn't overcome, even if she used every ounce of her mixed giant's strength and tricks.
Yet neither gave up.
How could they?
The man before them had clawed his way up from the bottom.
To show resignation in front of such a figure was unthinkable—both mentally and physically.
"Give up? Tired? Oh, is our beast-woman feeling weak? Fine. Then just die, I suppose. Tired people should die," Rem would taunt Dunbakel at even a hint of surrender.
"As the scriptures say, sometimes we need a different shock to forget our original pain," Audin would add, ready to administer that "shock" directly if Teresa showed hesitation.
Of course, neither said such things aloud.
'I won't yield either,' Teresa resolved.
Dunbakel shared the sentiment.
Both women had become accustomed to moving forward and upward. Their resolve had transformed since before.
Both had heard stories of what kind of man Enkrid was and how far he had come.
From the soldiers, including Rem, they learned that Enkrid's beginnings were humble—astonishingly so.
"At one point, he was under me. Heck, I was better-looking back then, too," Vengeance claimed with a laugh.
Other soldiers told similar tales.
Enkrid had once been a low-ranking mercenary of little note.
Now, he was a completely different person.
A hero of the city, a hero of the battlefield, and someone who inspired the children of Border Guard to train with wooden swords.
As the scriptures said:
"Though the beginning may be humble, the end shall be glorious."
Teresa had a fleeting thought.
As for Dunbakel,
"I won't fall behind."
She gritted her teeth and struggled with all her might.
Without even realizing it herself, her determination began to resemble Enkrid's desperate efforts.
Of course, how the beastkin and the half-blood giant viewed her was none of Enkrid's concern.
Aside from training and sparring, Enkrid spent his time wisely, often visiting the forge.
No, he had to.
He wasn't in a rush, but he couldn't afford to let time slip away idly.
Hadn't he seen the knight's sword?
Blocking it even once by striking first was an invaluable experience.
Just that brief exchange of blades with the knight had broadened Enkrid's world and made the starlight on the path ahead shine brighter.
The nightmare that had once visited him as the Reaper had transformed into distant starlight.
The remnants of that light illuminated his path.
It was only natural that his resolve soared higher than ever.
What some might see as harsh and grueling training was, for Enkrid, a source of unmatched joy and exhilaration.
"What's this now?"
The self-proclaimed best blacksmith in Border Guard examined the sword gifted by the enemy squire several times over.
The silver blade, the polished finish, the grip wrapped in monster hide, and the rounded pommel.
"This is no ordinary craftsmanship."
When Enkrid showed him the gladius and Ember as well, the blacksmith's eyes practically sparkled.
"Even the technique used in forging is different. These aren't human weapons."
The blacksmith's keen eye recognized the value of both Spark and the gladius.
"Planning to wield all three at once?"
They had known each other for quite some time.
The blacksmith, who spoke informally, cared more about his craft than any rank, even that of a company commander.
In the Border Guard, there wasn't a blacksmiths' guild like in other regions, as most of them were effectively part of the military.
This particular blacksmith had chosen challenge over stability, pursuing his craft with unmatched determination.
Enkrid respected the smith, thinking of him as someone chasing a dream similar to his own.
"Dream? Bah, it's just a job. No need to get poetic about it," the smith might scoff if asked.
But deep down, Enkrid was certain the man had immense pride in his work.
Seeing the blacksmith reignited Enkrid's own dreams.
Perhaps his surging motivation these days was to blame.
The blacksmith, still fixated on the three swords, finally asked,
"What do you want done?"
"They've seen some rough use. I'd like them touched up. Also, I need fifty lightweight, well-balanced throwing knives, some reinforced metal plates for these greaves, and my gauntlets are completely worn out, so all my armor needs to be replaced."
For a mercenary, good equipment was as vital as a second life.
Even now, as a squire capable of wielding fragments of
that truth remained unchanged.
'What if, when I faced that knight, the sword in my hand had been a cheap blade?'
The thought annoyed him. A fine weapon that fit perfectly in hand was a joy for any swordsman and a testament to their skill.
That knight had shown arrogance by not bringing his trusted sword.
While that arrogance had allowed Enkrid to prevail, it wasn't a trait he wished to emulate.
Instead, he would learn from the knight's failure and ensure he was always prepared.
Thus, he poured his
into equipment and weapons.
"What about payment?"
"The castle will cover it."
"Fair enough."
The blacksmith sharpened and polished the three swords, meticulously checking for any flaws.
There were none.
Though Enkrid had learned to maintain his weapons as a mercenary, a master's touch was different.
But he couldn't neglect his training just to master blacksmithing as well.
"Oh, by the way, do you have any spears, maces, or axes? I'd like to check those out, too."
Enkrid placed additional orders, not just a few but a variety of weapons.
The blacksmith finally looked directly at him, as if to ask where he planned to use them all.
"Yes, they're for me," Enkrid confirmed.
Given the reputation he had earned on the battlefield, no blacksmith could remain ignorant of him.
Even if his requests seemed eccentric, the smith complied without question.
After briefly losing himself in admiration of the three swords, the blacksmith thought,
Could I ever craft a better blade than these?
Someday, I'll take on that challenge, and he'll be the first to see it.
Then we'll talk payment.
"I'll send some of the weapons along with the armor later."
"Thanks."
Enkrid resumed his intense training.
"Tighten your muscles and apply force. That way, you'll forge muscles as strong as steel," Audin instructed during the early morning drills.
Enkrid didn't tilt his head but asked nonetheless,
"You're saying a body that won't get injured by a blade is possible?"
"Precisely, brother. You understand perfectly."
It didn't sound plausible, but Enkrid refrained from saying so outright.
"It is possible," Audin added, preempting further questions.
"How?"
"You likely already know the answer. Asking questions isn't bad, but sometimes discovering it for yourself is the better path, don't you think?"
Audin's response carried an unspoken challenge, and Enkrid nodded in agreement.
What followed made all his previous training seem easy by comparison.
Audin reached for a hammer wrapped in thick cloth.
"What are you going to do with that?"
Dunbakel's uneasy voice broke the tension.
"Training."
"Sister. If you wish, please stand in line."
Dunbakel did not stand in line.
She thought this wasn't it.
Even if she were to do it someday, now was not the time.
She wanted to absorb everything about Enkrid, but she believed it would be best to put it off for now.
However, Enkrid silently followed Audin's teachings.
And the result was this.
Thunk!
It was simple.
He focused and struck.
That was all.
Audin struck Enkrid's side with a cloth-wrapped hammer.
It wasn't a hard blow, but for an ordinary person, the strike would have shattered ribs and sent shockwaves through the internal organs.
"Ho-ho, that's good!"
Audin struck with just the right amount of force.
From watching, he could gauge the durability of Enkrid's body.
And Enkrid was struck.
"Isn't that just torture?"
Krais, who had been passing by, said this.
Despite how busy he was, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene.
"This training turns flesh into strength and blood into power. If you wish, please stand in line, brother."
"If you do that to me, it's murder. Audin."
Krais spoke seriously, then quickly ran off.
He vanished, his steps quickly disappearing.
"Go ahead, then."
Enkrid inhaled deeply as he watched Krais disappear into the distance.
Inhale.
"Focus the power at your core, at the center of your body. If you wobble for even a moment, it will lead to weakness somewhere."
Audin's words reached his ears, and once again, the cloth-wrapped hammer struck his side.
Whack.
The shockwave surged through his body.
A thrilling sensation surged through his brain.
"Is he enjoying this?"
Enkrid thought to himself as he felt the pain.
Is Audin enjoying striking him?
His lips seemed to curve upward more than usual.
Though usually bearing a faint smile, today it seemed he was smiling a little more.
On the surface, that smile appeared truly benevolent.
But one should never be deceived by appearances.
"The devil comes with the face of an angel."
Unconsciously, Enkrid repeated a phrase from the scriptures that he had heard many times.
"I look forward to the day the cloth will come off, brother."
The strike with the cloth-wrapped hammer had already crossed the line, but Audin continued.
Enkrid smiled faintly.
"Same here."
In truth, if this had been meaningless, it would have been pointless, but it wasn't.
'Will.'
Willpower moved.
Something derived from the will of rejection settled into his body and produced something like a refusal.
Was he rejecting the shock?
It was different.
It was endurance.
Among the techniques used by knights, there were a few standardized martial arts.
Intimidation was one of them.
This was why many intermediate knights made intimidation their specialty.
They saw intimidation as a fundamental step.
Naturally, there were other techniques as well.
One of the most widely known standardized techniques was "Endure."
Also known as the "strength to endure," it was originally a technique used by holy knights but had now spread throughout the knightly orders.
When considering its utility:
"It's an instinctual response that happens when you're struck."
It was like encasing the body in iron armor to ignore such a response.
If one used this skill proficiently and applied it all over their body, they would develop the foundational skills of a knight.
Then, they would have a body that wouldn't even be cut by a blade.
This was why the brown-haired knight was shocked when Ragnar's sword cut him.
Enkrid also understood.
"Will."
Simply building muscle wouldn't create a body that could endure a blade.
But what if one surrounded their body with something like iron armor, a strong will?
This thought sparked another realization.
Had this crude training spurred him on?
Perhaps.
Enkrid felt a kind of aggression in his sparring with Rem, something more intense than before.
"If you keep going easy on me like before, that won't do."
"You've really improved. Truly."
Rem, holding two axes, had a cut across his cheek after sixteen exchanges with Enkrid.
Thus, he said:
"Ah, did that hurt? I should've gone easy on you."
"Well, let's see. Let's die today."
"I'll burn you and scatter your ashes in the river."
His words were a bold provocation.
What would he burn and scatter?
His ashes.
It was a death threat, cleverly worded.
Ragnar's change caused Rem to feel a little urgency.
He sensed that things needed to change.
As a result, the training time increased.
He began swinging axes in the air.
His body moved with renewed energy.
This kind of provocation didn't feel bad.
Rem's momentum shifted.
Even so, Enkrid continued his conversation:
"You're using a sling, right?"
The suggestion to use a new weapon reached Rem, who, absorbed in his thoughts, grabbed his weapon without noticing anything else around him.

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