Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 627: Chapter 627 - Difference in Skill
Whips, by design, are faster than swords.
Utilizing wrist snaps and centrifugal force, they achieve remarkable velocity.
When a whip gains sufficient momentum, it cracks the air with a distinctive sound.
This principle doesn’t change regardless of its size.
Boom!
Crash!
The thunderous sound echoed as if a storm had erupted nearby.
Luagarne, who had wielded whips in combat, could produce similar sounds, though hers were more like
pang
or
snap
Monster.
Fel’s assessment was succinct.
Luagarne, meanwhile, concluded that her armor wouldn’t withstand a direct hit from the giant’s steel whip.
While they analyzed and processed their adversary’s movements, Enkrid focused on the whip’s trajectory, his accelerated perception capturing every motion.
Misreading it even slightly would cost him a limb.
Fast.
Enkrid recalled moments when Rem’s axe felt like a flash of light, surpassing even that in speed.
The giant smiled as he swung the whip with mastery.
Boom!
Boom!
Crash!
Smash!
The sound erupted four more times, leaving a trail of destruction. Anything caught within the whip’s arc would have been obliterated.
A human body, for instance, would be reduced to pieces, scattered in all directions.
"Into the forest!"
Luagarne shouted, urging them to use the environment to their advantage.
She noticed blood dripping from her ears.
Burst eardrums.
Fel was no exception.
The sonic force alone ruptured their eardrums.
Both retreated further, realizing the monster wouldn’t even allow proximity.
Yet, amidst the chaos, Enkrid stood firm, his sword in hand.
His eardrums remained intact, protected by the techniques he had mastered.
"Enkrid, how do you dull your senses?" Jaxen had once asked.
Through training, Enkrid had learned to shield himself using
Will
, which naturally led to the knightly technique,
Endure
Knights could fortify themselves against significant blows, and it was this skill that safeguarded him now.
The distance favors the opponent,
Enkrid mused.
At this range, the whip excelled.
Closing in, would only invite it to strike.
Feinting might work, but his instincts disagreed.
Every tactic he contemplated seemed inadequate.
The whip functioned as both offense and defense, its speed enabling it to strike twice before a sword could move once.
Sacrificing a limb to grab the whip?
The consequences of losing an arm would disrupt his balance, leaving him vulnerable.
Taking deep, steady breaths, Enkrid prepared for a different approach.
If reasoning fails, use instinct.
Jaxen’s advice during training surfaced in his mind.
"When there’s no time for tactics, let your body react instinctively. Sharpen your senses."
Relying not on logic but on intuition and bodily awareness, Enkrid recalled how Rem’s teachings aligned with this philosophy, though Jaxen never openly acknowledged it.
Training secretly at night, the rivalry between Rem and Jaxen often led to heated clashes.
Don’t overthink.
Act unpredictably.
React instinctively.
Enkrid inhaled deeply, exhaling long and slow, his senses homing in on the whip’s rhythm.
His experience with Luagarne’s techniques proved invaluable.
The whip’s high-speed motion followed a discernible rhythm, governed by wrist movements and centrifugal force.
The giant swung again, transmitting his raw strength through the steel whip.
Boom! Rip! Smash!
The weapon shredded through the air, aimed straight at Enkrid.
It was nearly impossible to evade—so instead, he intercepted it.
Clang!
His sword met the whip.
While it couldn’t fully block the strike, it was enough to deflect its trajectory.
Clang! Clang! Boom!
Three more times, Enkrid deflected the whip.
His hands tingled from the impact, but his sword, resilient as ever, withstood the assault.
"How long can you keep blocking?"
The giant’s voice boomed as Enkrid’s eyes narrowed.
The whip lashed out once more, accompanied by a deafening roar.
At that moment, Enkrid did the unexpected—he charged forward.
To anyone watching, it looked like a suicidal move.
The whip could tear through him, even if his
Endure
technique held.
Sensing victory, the giant’s confidence soared, only to be betrayed by reality.
The whip missed Enkrid by mere inches, sailing overhead.
Luck?
The giant dismissed it as a fortunate misstep.
Yet Enkrid closed the distance, entering striking range.
Without hesitation, he swung his sword.
The giant raised a gauntlet-covered hand to block.
Clang!
Sparks flew as the blade left a gash on the gauntlet, severing small fragments of metal.
Blocked.
To the giant, it seemed like a lucky strike gone awry.
But Enkrid wasn’t finished.
The giant, with a body twice the size of an average adult man, naturally had a much greater stride.
Using this advantage, he retreated to gain some distance and immediately swung his whip again, denying his opponent even a moment’s respite.
"Will luck save you a second time?"
He knew that continuously blocking with a sword would eventually break the blade, and after that, he would crush his arms and legs one by one.
"I’ll break you piece by piece until you wet yourself."
That was the giant’s plan.
Enkrid once again closed the distance, diving toward the giant with a low stance to avoid the whip’s striking range.
Boom!
The whip stirred the air violently, creating a gust strong enough to blow Enkrid’s hair back.
It felt as though the wind might rip his hair from his scalp.
His hair, swept by the force, revealed his forehead and his piercing blue eyes.
The giant saw those glowing blue eyes beneath a clear, unmarred forehead.
"That’s no coincidence."
Of course, it wasn’t.
Enkrid had been reading the rhythm of the whip.
There was a clear disparity in skill between them.
If not for the whip being such a specialized weapon, the fight wouldn’t even appear balanced.
"You’re not what I expected!"
The giant shouted.
From a distance, he looked like an overwhelming force twice the size of a man.
Up close, his size was outright oppressive.
Enkrid aimed for the neck once again, swinging his sword in a light, swift motion like a swallow darting toward its prey.
The giant attempted to block with the steel gauntlet on his left hand, but Enkrid’s sword curved mid-swing, slicing through the upper arm of the giant’s right limb.
Squelch.
The sound of flesh being cut and torn.
Compared to the crack of the whip, it was almost a lover’s whisper.
Yet, the volume of the sound wasn’t indicative of the weapon’s lethality.
A sharpened blade was more than enough to wound ordinary men, and even against a giant, a slash imbued with Will proved sufficient.
The giant’s thick skin split open, and blood spurted out—an unfortunate result of a severed blood vessel.
Or rather, it wasn’t unfortunate; Enkrid had targeted it precisely.
He had aimed for the tendons and blood vessels on purpose.
"The more you know about the human body, the easier it is to fight."
This was Audin’s teaching.
Enkrid had practiced it relentlessly, absorbing the knowledge through experience, enlightenment, and a listening attitude.
All these factors culminated in the warrior he was now.
His blue eyes foresaw the future, his senses deciphering the rhythm of the whip and the trajectory of weapons.
"You’re not just a knight, are you?"
The giant spoke with a grim tone.
After all, no one relished the idea of dying.
The giant Hatoon was no exception.
From what he had heard, Enkrid was a man who had become a knight by sheer luck, made difficult to approach due to those around him.
That was why Hatoon had waited for an opportunity when the man would be alone.
Assassins sent to the Border Guard had been killed one after another, leaving no trace.
When news arrived that Enkrid was venturing out alone, Hatoon had seized the chance.
"He’s beyond a combat apostle," the giant murmured.
Between those two statements, Enkrid had already severed the tendons behind the giant’s knees and sliced his wrist.
Blood gushed from the half-severed wrist, now dangling uselessly.
A wrist in that state was no longer capable of wielding a whip.
Though the Sacred Church of the Demonic Land boasted combat apostles skilled in battle, Hatoon realized that Enkrid surpassed even them.
"They should’ve sent an evil spirit rank apostle instead."
Hatoon muttered again.
Was he trying to convey information to someone?
Enkrid ignored the words; there was no way to glean anything useful at the moment.
"It’s hard to deliver a message to the Sacred Church when we don’t know its location," Enkrid quipped.
With those words, Enkrid kicked the giant’s thigh, leaped upward, and swung his sword in an arc.
The sword’s path formed a clean semicircle, slashing across the giant’s throat.
Thud.
The giant attempted to block with his left hand, but it was too late.
His hand clutched the wound on his neck instead, blood pouring out in streams.
"How did you dodge the whip?" the giant asked.
What an inquisitive creature.
It wasn’t surprising, though.
At the moment of death, curiosity tends to arise.
His eyes brimmed with lingering regrets.
"The rhythm is too simple," Enkrid replied.
"...Ridiculous."
Too simple?
Was this madman saying that just because he could read the rhythm, he could dodge it?
It was no different from when he faced the holy knights who had joined the Gray Sacred Army.
This time, the difference in skill and experience, refined beyond Will, had made all the difference.
Enkrid stepped past the giant’s fallen corpse.
The giant’s massive body crashed to the ground with a loud
thud
, sending up a cloud of dust and pooling blood that seemed to form a small lake on the ground.
Of course, the giant wouldn’t drown in that lake.
Already dead, he couldn’t die twice.
Enkrid stepped back to avoid the blood.
"It seems the Sacred Church of the Demonic Land sent assassins," he remarked.
"They certainly didn’t come to make friends," Fel replied.
Enkrid was Enkrid.
Even after slaying the giant, he resumed walking.
"Let’s go."
"Won’t they attack us again?" Fel asked, worried about the gravity of the situation.
"Even the Sacred Church doesn’t have an endless supply of assassins like that," Luagarne said, observing the giant’s corpse and inspecting the whip.
Indeed, no matter how vast the influence of the Sacred Church across the continent, and no matter how peerless their strength, sending assassins like Hatoon in droves was implausible.
Luagarne’s assessment was correct.
The failure of the giant Hatoon would force the Sacred Church’s central diocese to withdraw from the central continent for now.
"Hatoon failed?"
The archbishop lamented upon hearing the news.
He sighed, displeased with the existence of the man before him—a madman who proudly embraced the name.
"He cannot be allowed to live."
From Hatoon’s death, they had gauged his strength.
If they could pinpoint his movements once more...
"It’s rare for him to be completely alone."
The archbishop, also known as the First Apostle, declared with resolve.
"Gather all the remaining forces in the diocese. I will go as well."
He believed there was still one more opportunity.
’If he’s left, he will return, won’t he?’
Though the exact purpose wasn’t clear, the enemy was expected to return to Border Guard.
It made sense to simply watch over the route and wait.
However, the First Apostle had overlooked one critical detail: he assumed that Hatoon had perished after a hard-fought battle.
No matter how much intelligence one gathers, it’s impossible to know everything.
In truth, another cultist had observed the fight from a distance.
They overheard Hatoon’s remarks and initially believed Hatoon had the upper hand.
This misconception stemmed from their poor judgment.
With so many capable individuals having died trying to capture Enkrid, the cult suffered a tragic lack of skilled manpower.
Far away from those scheming against him, Enkrid continued his journey.
On the fourth day, he began engaging more with Luagarne, teaching and learning in equal measure as they walked.
They crossed a river and passed through various regions.
There was even a noble’s estate along the way, one familiar to Enkrid, but he chose not to visit.
Though he wasn’t too concerned about the ferryman’s dream, he assumed Shinar would likely reveal the truth.
’Doesn’t seem like she’s having a good time if what the boatman revealed was true, ’ he thought.
Enkrid continued southward, following the route Esther had implanted in his mind.
Crossing the southern river and moving eastward, he traversed several mountain ranges.
Along the way, he encountered monsters and bandits multiple times, though none required his intervention.
"Banditry? Are you out of your minds?"
Fel handled the situation while Luagarne assisted in resolving the encounters.
Their journey eventually brought them to a place Esther had referred to as the Ghost Forest.
A green mist shrouded the forest, giving it an eerie atmosphere.
It truly seemed like ghosts might emerge at any moment.
This forest lay beyond an abandoned mountain trail, with no traces of human activity nearby.
Just before reaching the forest, Enkrid had split the skull of a wild boar beast.
Standing before the mist-covered woods, he took two cautious steps forward.
In that instant, his mind accelerated.
Sounds, scents, even the subtle shifts in the air brushing against his skin—everything entered the domain of his heightened sensory technique.
Within this realm of perception, Enkrid spotted a projectile hurtling toward him.
A sharp
swish
tore through the air as an arrow streaked in his direction.

Comments

Loading...