A Knight Who Eternally Regresses
Chapter 808
"There's no need to provoke me into doing my best."
Aishia spat the words through her tightly clenched teeth.
"...Provoke?"
Enkrid drew the sword commonly known by the nickname, Dawn.
The forged blade shed a sky-blue light, as if unbothered by all the battles it had been through.
'The method of washing with fire.'
Aetri had said that if possible, it was good to heat it once before oiling.
Following those words, he had gone to the royal blacksmith as soon as he arrived, heated it once, and then spread on the seed oil he had brought from the east.
"It is like seeing a beautiful woman who has hidden her beauty with coarseness."
It meant that though the structure was simple, the devotion contained within was no ordinary thing.
There were many master craftsmen in the royal family.
That was a remark from one of them.
Well, another person had said something different.
"No, this isn't hidden, it's revealed. It looks simple, but it has elegant lines."
"And those elegant lines are hidden by the coarseness."
"No, look at the leather wrapped around the grip. And he mixed the metals. This, as it is, is a work of art."
"Art, my foot. A sword is a tool, a weapon for killing. It is faithful to that."
It is art because it is faithful to that!
"You crazy art-lover!"
"Your pragmatism is nonsense!"
Enkrid had watched three master craftsmen fighting in the royal blacksmith.
These three were the most skilled craftsmen in Naurillia.
They had fought, offering all sorts of opinions about Dawn.
To Enkrid, it didn't look bad.
They fought while asserting their own claims, but they would not ignore each other's opinions.
'One must acknowledge to have a next step.'
They knew that too.
Right now, veins were popping on their foreheads and their faces were red from all the blood rushing to their heads, but once they cooled down, they would expand their thoughts in various directions.
'All sorts of opinions are bound to be attached to an overly outstanding technique.'
For example, how many theories had been produced by later generations regarding the five concepts of swordsmanship established by Leonesis Oniac?
Among them, some were recognized and some were weeded out.
And again, some of those developed and opened new paths.
The concept of the Artful Sword was like that.
It didn't belong to Static, Centered, Circular, Fast, or Flowing, but had pioneered its own path.
It referred to a sword style that, above the concepts of heaviness, righteousness, deception, speed, and gentleness, focused solely on technique.
'Eastern-style Artful Sword.'
The Artful Sword was an acrobatic sword style that was once nicknamed Eastern-style because it was mainly used by warriors from the east.
In the same vein, it was said that the south had been skilled in the Illusory Sword for generations, but that had now become a groundless rumor that was difficult to give meaning to.
'A knight mixes and uses all five sword styles.'
It was right to focus on one while also tending to the others.
The Artful Sword was very peculiar in that respect.
It was a technique that had once even been nicknamed the 'suicide sword'.
He didn't know the origin of the technique, but seeing the results, he felt he could roughly guess its source.
'The shepherd's technique.'
Traces of the Artful Sword were sometimes glimpsed from Fel.
The Eastern-style Artful Sword must have come from the shepherds of the wilderness.
It was a guess, but his intuition told him this was the answer.
And even if it wasn't, it wasn't a problem.
It was just an idle thought about swords.
In any case, the three craftsmen had fought because Dawn was so excellent.
And now, that sword was aimed at his comrade.
It was a spar between a knight and a Junior Knight.
There was no need for wooden swords.
"Yes, you provoked me."
Aishia said again, extending her sword.
Should he say she was the same as ever?
Her sword contained a strange presence.
Should he say it was a mix of pressure and sword?
Beelrog had fought while scattering pressure, and Aishia tried to refine and project that pressure.
Because she hadn't become a knight, she couldn't use it on a subconscious level, but just looking at that presence, it was not ordinary.
'Like Roman.'
Just as he had once mimicked a knight's blow, Aishia too had found her own path.
"It wasn't a provocation. It's a fact."
Enkrid replied with a nonchalant attitude, and Aishia's gentle-looking eyes began to emit a dangerous light.
"Oh, verbal assault."
Rem admired from behind.
That kind of provocation was worth learning, so he was replaying it in his mind several times.
The training soldiers gathered around one by one, forming a circle.
Among them were Rem, Audin, Shinar, Ropord, and Fel.
Jaxen had, at some point, brought a chair to one side of a pillar and was sitting there.
He sat there carving a piece of wood with a single dagger, his gaze thrown forward.
Even though he was only looking forward, the dagger moved, and the wood was neatly shaved, with thin pieces cut by the blade falling below.
Only Ragna was swinging his sword on the side as if it had nothing to do with him.
To an unknowing eye, it might look like he was swinging listlessly, but to those who knew his genius, it would look different.
"That clueless bastard is over there playing with his stick again."
Of course, that was what Rem said.
Aishia closed her senses to the onlookers.
She shut them out.
She focused solely on the opponent standing before her.
'The opponent is a knight.'
If things went slightly wrong, not only would she lose, she wouldn't even be able to put up a proper fight.
She hated that.
She too had gone through bone-grinding training.
"Don't you think that's enough now?"
Her brother had asked in a fed-up tone, but she hadn't been satisfied.
And it had also been fun.
Only after the skin on her palms had burst several times did she remember the reason she had swung her sword day and night in her childhood.
'Because it's fun.'
If it wasn't fun, she wouldn't have been able to swing her sword like that.
'The best possible blow.'
Her gentle-looking eyes narrowed.
Aishia's sword, having gathered her concentration, moved.
'Detainment.'
She unleashed everything she had.
She did just that.
From the falling sword, Enkrid read the form of pressure that entangled and bound the limbs in strands.
He could have been a little surprised, but it felt strangely natural.
Enkrid's intuition was far superior to that of an ordinary knight.
'Aishia always did enjoy using pressure.'
He remembered when he had first seen her.
Me? Aishia.
She had shown him a pressure that was like an formless sword slitting his own throat.
Even when they had fought later, she had used a sword style derived from that.
She had made him see the tip of her sword as a point, restricting his movements.
Now, she had developed even further.
From the blade falling above his head, the will to bind his entire body was clear.
She had developed the specialty she originally possessed.
'A sword imbued with the will of pressure.'
Though he couldn't say it was stronger than Beelrog's.
'The direction is correct.'
CLANG!
Enkrid, having no need for the Fortress of Rejection, shook off Aishia's sword style with his will alone and struck her sword.
The pouring rain scattered in all directions, centering on the two of them.
Aishia did not give up just because her blow was blocked.
Thinking she was still far from done, she pulled back her sword and moved her feet.
It was the moment just before Aishia changed the direction of her feet and simultaneously thrust, mixing in a feint.
Enkrid read every possible attack point Aishia was attempting.
'Five.'
To be precise, there were five possibilities for where the sword could come from.
All of them were read in the realm of his insight.
'Extinguishing Embers.'
Enkrid's left foot tapped the back of Aishia's right knee.
With that, all possibilities of attack were broken.
Aishia pulled back the leg that was hit and struck with her sword again.
The attack points momentarily increased and changed.
To be precise, she tried to slash her sword vertically, from top to bottom.
It was a movement already completed in her mind's eye, but in reality, she could not.
Slice.
This time, the inside of her elbow was cut.
Dawn, which had closed in at some point, grazed past with a light touch.
Her protective gear was shaved off, and the leather, as if it were a sheet of paper, got wet in the rain and fell to the ground.
Aishia did not give up, and Enkrid showed no mercy.
Every single attack was repeatedly broken and torn apart.
"He's relentless."
Rem said.
At some point, Ragna too had stopped swinging his sword and was watching.
"He doesn't allow it to even begin."
Ragna also added a word.
Those with discerning eyes all understood the current situation.
On the other hand, to those without such eyes, it would look like the trick of an acrobat.
One side would swing their sword and stop, and the other would just push with their foot or sword, showing only light movements, but all their movements matched as if they had been choreographed.
"Hm."
Among the spectators was Rierban.
Though his insight was not at a knight's level, he believed that Enkrid was not someone who did things without reason.
No, it wasn't just belief, it was blind faith.
If an Enkrid religion were to form right now, he was more than willing to become a follower immediately.
That was why he pondered whether there was some meaning within it, and that became a good study for Rierban.
There were others like Rierban for whom the sparring match itself became a study.
They were those who were prepared because they hadn't neglected their training, and those who had the resolve and desire to learn anything without prejudice.
The sparring match was not long.
Aishia couldn't land any proper attacks, and Enkrid didn't even swing Dawn properly.
"Damn it."
As soon as the exchange stopped and the two retreated, Aishia's mouth opened.
She bowed her head, her shoulders trembling.
To the eyes of an ordinary soldier, a Junior Knight is a monster.
But Knights were beings who were beyond even the category of such monsters.
They could not be standardized.
That is what a knight was.
'A calamity.'
It wasn't for nothing that such a word was attached to them.
Watching her trembling shoulders, some thought that Aishia was shedding tears.
That she couldn't hold it back because she was so frustrated.
That's what they thought.
Enkrid knew all too well that was not the case.
When Aishia lifted her head, her gentle-looking eyes were the same as before, but the will contained within them was all too clear.
"I won't give up either."
Were those words steeped in resolve?
They sounded more like the words of one who was enjoying the present.
"Right. From now on, if you miss, you die. You could lose an arm."
Enkrid said nonchalantly and moved.
From a stance where he had yielded the first move, he boldly struck out first.
Aishia's sword rose diagonally and met the blade of Dawn.
CLANG.
The two pieces of metal expressed their joy at meeting.
After that, the two didn't exchange words.
Aishia couldn't because she was struggling to even catch her breath, and Enkrid didn't open his mouth because there was no need.
Aishia felt as if she had run into an impossible wall.
She couldn't control the distance as she pleased, yet it felt as if Enkrid's sword could pierce her neck at any moment.
To survive all those threats, all she could do was struggle with all her might.
She did just that.
She held on, her fingers just barely hooked onto the edge of a cliff.
Her abs ached and her forearms felt like they would snap.
The sparring match continued for half a day.
"Why are you guys always fighting every time I come?"
Marcus, who appeared later, asked in a monologue and then immediately nodded to himself.
"Well, hm, this is how they normally are."
Why else would the band of mad knights be called mad?
Uh, hng, ugh.
Aishia eventually collapsed from exhaustion, and a few soldiers she was acquainted with supported her and retreated.
"You sure know how to knock down a woman every time."
There was Shinar's trivial joke upon seeing that.
The departing Aishia gave Enkrid a nod.
One of her arms was slung over the shoulder of a soldier she was close with.
It was a gaze mixed with gratitude and several other emotions.
Enkrid, who nodded back, fell into a short contemplation.
'Is it possible?'
He had seen, opened, and helped Aishia's potential.
But he couldn't guarantee that she would become a knight.
'I see now how lucky Ropord and Fel were.'
Looking at Roman and then at Aishia, he understood.
He couldn't hastily predict the future of those two.
He could probably raise them to a higher level of Junior Knight.
Considering that there are skill differences even among Junior Knights.
'If it's at least at the level of Lord Graham.'
Couldn't he literally grab them by the scruff of the neck and drag them up, even if by force?
At least the possibility was far higher than becoming a knight.
But beyond that?
'I don't know.'
He had opened a path for Roman as well, but he might remain in that place for the rest of his life, and just because a path is made doesn't mean one will necessarily walk it.
It was the same for Aishia.
Becoming a knight was originally such an arduous process.
"Enki, I need to ask you to escort His Majesty tomorrow."
Marcus, who had approached, said.
It was just as the rain that had been pattering down stopped.
"Me?"
"It was Aishia's job, but in that state, it looks like she'll have a hard time being okay tomorrow, don't you think?"
That was right.
It was because he had fought with consideration.
He had pushed her so that she could learn and rise up even a little.
Thanks to that, there probably wasn't a spot on her arms and legs that was fine.
That was Enkrid's brand of consideration.
A sparring match that pushed the opponent to the next step, rather than one that left them unscathed.
"I'll do it."
There was no reason to refuse, so Enkrid nodded.
And the escort that Marcus had requested was regarding Krang's inspection of the capital city.
In other words, the king was going to look around the capital.
He does not postpone his duties just because of a seditious movement or an undercurrent.
That was likely the will that Krang possessed.
"I would also like to spar."
Rierban, who had been watching, said, mustering his courage.
After him, others who had gained some sort of epiphany lined up.
"If Big-eyes was here, he would have charged a few gold pieces per sparring match."
Rem said with a chuckle.
And then he turned his eyes toward those who hadn't noticed anything in the sparring match just now.
"You all, come here. Your mental fortitude is lacking."
What kind of insight was it that couldn't recognize a good thing even when it was shown to them?
Following that, wails echoed from the training grounds.

Comments

Loading...