Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 648: Chapter 648 - Because It’s Not Perfect, It Can Be Completed
A junior knight names their Will and trains with it for the same reason.
Once they surpass that stage, they can be considered intermediate, where they develop refined techniques and individuality.
’What Rievart didn’t have, but Azpen’s knight Jamal did.’
Both had left a strong impression—warriors one wouldn’t forget even if today repeated itself.
Their difference, as drawn from the library of experience, was clear: a distinct individuality.
Their fighting styles were similar, both relying on endurance battles.
However, Jamal had something unique—his ability to seize and overwhelm.
’That’s the mark of an intermediate level.’
Individuality—a clear distinction in technique.
Through experience, a foundation of knowledge is built, which then forms into theory—a system.
Enkrid was in the process of establishing such a system.
’An advanced fighter is someone unrestricted by technique.’
Rem, Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin were like that.
They named their techniques, but they were not bound by them.
’They even tried to formalize me as they taught me.’
The giant wrestling Rem taught, the lessons from Audin, Ragna, and Jaxen—they all followed the same pattern.
And through that, they advanced even further.
He knew because he had watched them closely.
’That’s why a structured theory and system are necessary.’
A path walked solely by intuition cannot provide certainty.
Sometimes, one must look back at the road traveled to move forward.
’No, even if one walks without a wavering conviction, looking back itself is beneficial.’
Even a genius like Ragna advanced further only after reflecting on his past.
Swordsmanship requires meaning, execution, and training methods.
With that in mind, Enkrid had devised a training system for becoming a knight.
Once again, he acknowledged how fortunate he was.
Had he missed even a few experiences in his past, he wouldn’t be where he was now.
But then again, life itself was a flower that bloomed between the miracles of coincidence.
Just as imagining the roads not taken was meaningless, there was no reason to feel comforted by the road already traveled.
What mattered was maintaining an unchanging attitude toward life.
Enkrid had not changed from before he became a knight to now.
That, perhaps, was why he had reached this point.
In any case, in this place, there was nothing to hinder him.
That was yet another stroke of luck.
He sank deeper into his thoughts.
The standard Enkrid was constructing could very well become the standard for knights.
Of course, this alone wouldn’t be enough to define a knight’s combat ability.
It wasn’t about determining victory or defeat.
Life-and-death battles were influenced by countless factors.
Even for himself—he had been lucky to defeat Jamal.
’Back then, I was closer to a beginner.’
At least, by the standard he had now set for himself.
Even if he perfected his system, that wouldn’t be everything.
At that time, Jamal was a fully developed intermediate knight.
Victory and defeat were determined by the difference in their Wills.
’The size of one’s Will.’
Beyond individuality, the characteristics of Will, divinity, and sorcery all affected battle.
But it wasn’t possible to incorporate all of that into the system.
Distinguishing between what was possible and what wasn’t—he had done that when he first became a knight, avoiding the illusion of omnipotence.
It was the same now.
Enkrid distinguished, separated, structured, and built a system.
’No system can ever be perfect.’
But it could be completed.
And completing it, then moving forward, was more important.
Rather than seeking a perfect today, one should look toward an imperfect tomorrow—that’s why it could be completed.
So he did.
The difference between beginner, intermediate, and advanced.
’For now, by mastering Will.’
The difference in combat ability had to account for factors like physical training and compatibility.
Thus, the outcome of battles was a separate matter.
However, to solidify a training and cultivation method, this structure was necessary.
Establishing a system turned theories into frameworks, and frameworks into structured discipline.
Enkrid opened his eyes.
Aside from minimal training, he had spent the past week solely between the fairy’s spring and meditation.
In the end, he had stayed in the spring for two whole days without emerging.
"I thought you had drowned."
A voice greeted him as he opened his eyes.
Luagarne spoke, her cheeks puffed out halfway—not quite enough to look truly displeased.
Enkrid blinked a few times.
Droplets of condensation, like sweat, fell from his eyelashes, some trailing down his face.
His skin felt many times smoother than before.
"At least the fairies aren’t crowding around like before."
Enkrid sensed that a considerable amount of time had passed.
He hadn’t lost consciousness—just immersed himself deeply in concentration.
He had a rough awareness of time’s passage.
"That’s a premature assumption."
Fel was also there, leaning against a tree.
Enkrid, still intoxicated by the exhilaration of opening a new world, joked,
"Who are you calling squire?"
Fel bristled but didn’t outright deny it.
Perhaps, deep down, he acknowledged it.
If Ropord wasn’t around and Fel alone were given the position of squire, he might just accept it willingly.
Enkrid stood up and dried himself off, his whole body wrinkled.
His fingers, swollen from soaking in water for two days, resembled those of a Frog.
"You must have envied my fingers."
Luagarne remarked.
Enkrid chuckled, wiped himself down, and reached for his clothes.
Instead of his usual attire, someone had left him fairy garments.
A green-threaded shirt and pants, along with undergarments neatly folded beside his armor and weapons.
Enkrid slipped on the clothes.
Despite seeming coarse, the fabric wrapped around him gently, offering a warm embrace—like wearing sunlight-soaked leaves.
He wasn’t particularly thirsty.
Nor was he very hungry.
"The fairy gathering has grown over the past days. Now, they’re everywhere."
Luagarne noted.
Enkrid stepped out of the spring and onto a familiar path—one that, to Ragna, would undoubtedly feel like a labyrinth.
Ahead, just as Luagarne had said, hundreds of fairies had gathered, as if waiting for something.
Why?
Observing them, Enkrid realized they had come out of concern, worried because he hadn’t emerged from the fairy’s spring for two days.
But still, wasn’t this too much?
It seemed they were more engaged and passionate now than when they were resolving the labyrinthine demonic realm.
Not that fairies ever displayed passion outwardly.
"You’ve returned."
A Dryas fairy with enchanting green eyes covered her lips with a leaf as she spoke.
Some Dryas, particularly shy ones, habitually covered their faces when speaking.
They generally avoided interactions with other fairies, rarely stepping outside unless absolutely necessary.
Yet here she was, stepping forward just to check if Enkrid was alright.
A fairy who, at most, left her home five times a year, had waited here for two whole days just to see Enkrid.
"Shouldn’t a healer check his condition?"
"Shall I do it?"
"Wouldn’t I be enough?"
"He came out of the spring—there’s nothing wrong with his body."
Fairies did not make a fuss.
They valued reason and maintained a logical approach.
Even now, it wasn’t exactly noisy—just somewhat reminiscent of a marketplace.
A short-haired fairy stepped forward.
Ermen wasn’t here, nor was Shinar, and no one stopped her, which meant she likely had authority.
"If you’re feeling well, would you come with me?"
She was the only one with actual business.
The others had merely gathered out of concern.
Enkrid was starting to sense it now.
"If I so much as broke a nail, they’d..."
Enkrid ignored all the gazes directed at him and asked.
The fairy standing before him was tall, with short hair tinged with red and eyes that had a subtle mix of orange.
His hands were covered in scars.
And he smelled different from other fairies.
Instead of the scent of grass and flowers, he carried the smell of ash and fire.
It was the same scent that Aitri had.
Just from a brief glance, Enkrid could guess what this fairy did.
Since creating the Wavebreaking Swordsmanship and establishing the knightly stages, his insight had become far sharper than before.
"I heard there’s a fairy clan that handles fire."
"Yes, they forge naidyrs and craft fairy weapons. We crossed paths briefly before. I am Lefratio."
Those who represent their clan take on its name, just like Ermen.
The fairy standing before Enkrid, simply put, was the greatest blacksmith of the fairy clan.
"Fairies create companion weapons. And they can exhibit the same effects as engraved weapons."
Fairies only speak the truth.
He had no reason to lie or to beat around the bush.
"I wish to craft a weapon for the Demon Slayer."
In other words, he was offering to create an engraved weapon.
But instead of being moved or pleased, Enkrid scratched his chin with a reluctant expression.
"That’s unfortunate."
Enkrid had nothing to hide, so he spoke openly.
"My engraved weapon is already promised to someone else."
Unless under very special circumstances, there could only be one engraved weapon.
It was called an ’engraved’ weapon for a reason—because it was infused with one’s Will.
"Then at least allow me to offer you a gift."
Lefratio continued without any sign of disappointment.
Enkrid nodded.
There was no reason to refuse a gift.
He had already received plenty, but—
Something given by a fairy blacksmith was different.
Weapons or armor—Enkrid had a bit of greed when it came to these things.
He never denied the saying that a good weapon equaled skill.
It was something mercenaries would say, but the essence remained true.
’A knight with a fine sword.’
Now, imagine that knight facing off against one who was barehanded.
Who would have the advantage?
If he could gain an edge, he would take it.
Enkrid hadn’t changed.
No matter what realizations he reached, his essence remained the same.
His approach to life was unwavering.
Passing through the gathering of fairies, he made his way to their workshop.
Taaang!
This was the fire and steel district that Shinar had once been deeply fascinated by.
A remote corner of the fairy city—
And, if one were to put it plainly, the complete opposite of Woodguard’s territory, where fire was kept at bay.
Fairies hammering away at steel stood before massive forges, fully immersed in their work.
Amidst the spacious open area, blackened forges and bellows had been carved into tree stumps through some mysterious technique.
Fairies did not smelt weapons using moonlight or leaves.
Fire was what tempered metal.
That was an unchanging truth, an undeniable principle.
Each of them was sweating as they forged their desires into reality.
Aetri came to mind.
The one who was supposed to craft his engraved weapon was waiting for him.
’Will he be disappointed that I broke the True Silver Sword?’
No, he wouldn’t.
That sword had been given to him to break in the first place.
Even if Aetri didn’t say it, Enkrid knew.
Besides, that sword had helped him escape a dire situation.
When he met Aetri again, he wanted to tell him—
That ’fortune’ had truly brought him fortune.
So, Enkrid had no reason to have an engraved weapon forged here.
"This is Penna."
But then—
"Tsk."
Enkrid clicked his tongue.
His refined insight now extended to appraising weapons.
He could tell without even holding it.
It was the item Lefratio had brought as a gift.
A sword so exceptional it could be called a masterpiece, rivaling even an engraved weapon.
He doubted even Aetri could craft something better than this.

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