Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 138: Must Endure

“Do you really have to use two swords?”

The question came after the sparring session. It was Rem who asked.

Sweat poured down after the intense session. Though, it was only Encrid drenched; Rem remained completely dry.

“Yeah.”

Encrid nodded while sitting on the ground, his head bobbing with conviction. Rem opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself.

More precisely, he took one look at Encrid’s expression and swallowed the words that almost escaped.

For instance:

– “Should I explain just how idiotic this dual-sword style is?”

– “Did you think two swords would double your attack power or something?”

– “Stop fooling around and stick to one sword. Trust me. Listen to me before I take my axe and split that blue blade of yours in half.”

Words like those.

Instead, Rem pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and thought silently.

Well, he had received a gift after all.

The axe Encrid brought him turned out to be of much better quality than expected. The subtle blue sheen of the blade was proof of excellent craftsmanship and high-grade steel.

It was unmistakably Valerian steel.

Judging by its strength and refinement, this axe could be used for quite a long time.

It was a pleasing weapon, no doubt about it.

So…

‘Let it be.’

Of course, the axe was just an excuse.

The real reason was that Encrid’s expression had convinced him to drop the nagging.

Sometimes, when Encrid had that look…

When he muttered about dreaming of being a knight, about today being a good day to swing a sword, or about training in every spare moment, whether on the battlefield or elsewhere…

Every time he said things like that, a certain determination appeared on his face.

No, maybe “resolve” was a better word?

Though “resolve” might not fully describe it—there was a peculiar calmness to it. And with that calmness, there was a boundary around Encrid that Rem instinctively knew not to cross.

Rem figured he had his own boundaries, too.

So far, Encrid had respected those.

‘If his hands get tangled, and he stumbles and falters…’

When that time comes, he’ll probably give up on his own.

There had been a lot of talk about Encrid lately—about him being a late-blooming genius, awakening at the age of thirty.

‘Is that because of me? Sure, maybe I had some influence.’

But fundamentally, if you looked deeper, everything Encrid achieved was entirely his own doing.

At least, that’s what Rem believed.

Encrid never gave up, not even once.

He never despaired.

Without a single thought of giving in to hopelessness, he pushed forward with stubborn determination.

Even if he had to crawl, he moved forward.

The thought suddenly came back to him.

Is that why he kept watching?

Or was it because Encrid was so different from himself?

Rem, who had abandoned everything and walked away, a wandering vagabond.

Even though he was born with talent and everything else one could ask for.

‘But I threw it all away.’

He turned his back on it, looked the other way.

Meanwhile, his squad leader, this stubbornly calm squad leader, was different.

All Encrid had in his hand was a sword.

A single, sharp blade. That was all.

And yet, he walked forward.

Without knowing what lay at the end of the road.

Without questioning whether he was qualified to walk that path.

Without complaining about the hardships along the way.

Because it was a path he chose himself, a path he determined for himself, he simply enjoyed it.

How could anyone live like that?

Rem’s emotions were a tangled mess.

Mastering the [Heart of Monstrous Strength] in a single day?

Well, that was surprising, but he could let it slide.

After all, there were geniuses in the world.

It was amazing that his squad leader pulled it off, sure, but…

‘I guided him through every step, demonstrated it, monitored him closely.’

With all that, pulling it off was at least plausible.

But living with that attitude? That was much harder to imitate.

At the end of his thoughts, Rem finally moved his tongue from the roof of his mouth and spoke.

“I think I like you, squad leader.”

“…Did someone spike your meal?”

“Beating you feels satisfying.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s more like you.”

Encrid brushed it off casually.

As Rem continued watching his squad leader, the usual lazy, sulking idiot suddenly leaned in with his face.

“Done sparring?”

“I think I really hate you.”

Rem said it with every fiber of his being. There could be no misunderstanding about how genuine and sincere he was.

And saying it like Encrid would:

“Ah, same here.”

Ragna nodded, even adding a slight smile.

He seemed to agree wholeheartedly.

Ragna, who already had a rather delicate face, looked even more punchable when he smiled.

“That goes for me too,” chimed in another voice.

Out of nowhere, the sly stray cat had appeared, arms crossed. Normally, he barely spoke, but now he was running his mouth with ease.

“Brother, all things in this world reside within the Lord’s embrace. Naturally, the Lord even caresses the hearts of humans. And yes, as a servant of the Lord, how could I hide my feelings? I feel the same way. Haha.”

The large, overbearing religious zealot added his words while stripping off his shirt.

It was downright revolting.

For all his polished looks, wasn’t he just saying he hated him too?

Why dress it up with so many words?

Despite the irritating additions from those hated faces, Rem felt oddly, inexplicably pleased.

It was because of Encrid.

That cheerful feeling, that lightheartedness, lingered.

So, in a slightly elevated mood, Rem decided to show a bit of grace.

“Andrew!”

Andrew flinched at Rem’s call but soon stood tall with confidence.

‘Making an enemy seem bigger in your mind is simply admitting defeat before the battle even begins.’

With that mindset, Andrew drew his sword.

‘Schring.’

“Kid, you’re quick to pick up on things. I like that.”

Rem stomped forward, his axe swinging like a pendulum from his shoulder.

The sharp glint of the blade was menacing.

“…If you beg for mercy halfway through, I’ll step in,” Mack said from behind.

Andrew nodded.

Mack was a good man, someone who had helped rebuild his family.

Lately, Mack had even joined him in standing up to Rem time and time again.

But Mack, why were you backing away as you said that?

Huh? If you back off that much, won’t it be hard to step in when needed?

You’re retreating way too far, aren’t you?

“You can do this. Gardener, you’re the one who will restore the Gardener family to greatness.”

“Why are you saying that while moving so far away? And why are you suddenly calling me ‘Gardener’? You usually call me Andrew, and sometimes even drop the formalities. Isn’t that how it was?”

Mack kept retreating until he finally stopped near Encrid. If someone wanted to avoid the lunatics in this squad, that spot seemed to be the only sanctuary.

Andrew, however, couldn’t head for the sanctuary. He had his pride. And there was one thing he couldn’t deny—fighting this mad barbarian only made him stronger.

Not for today, but for tomorrow.

Remembering what he had learned from his squad leader, Andrew faced him head-on.

“Let’s fight, you arrogant savage.”

“Huh? You’re giving me permission to lop off an arm?”

Encrid’s dull gray eyes carried a hint of sincerity.

“Shut it.”

Andrew yelled, knowing that shouting was the only answer to this madness.

Encrid, still sitting on the ground, observed the entire situation.

He had given it his all against Rem. He fought with two swords, doing his best.

[Heart of Monstrous Strength] had bestowed incredible power upon both his arms. The improvement in his physical strength was dramatic. Yet, it wasn’t enough to fully utilize the dual-sword style.

He couldn’t push Rem back more effectively than when he used a single sword. It was clear—he lacked training.

‘It doesn’t feel natural,’ Encrid thought, staring at his calloused hands.

He wasn’t blaming his talent. He simply realized he needed more time.

What should he do now?

“Are you taking a break?” came a question from right in front of him.

It was Ragna, unusually eager.

Why? Why was he like this only to him? Encrid didn’t know, but he wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t a bad thing—far from it. He knew that too well. Placing a hand on his thigh, likely bruised from being kicked by Rem, Encrid stood up.

“No.”

As if he had expected that answer, Ragna nodded and drew his sword.

“Will you use two swords again?”

“Yeah.”

Ragna didn’t ask further.

It was peculiar. Encrid thought they would try to stop him—whether it was Rem or Ragna. Or perhaps Jaxson and Audin, if not them. Even Andrew, Mack, or Krys could have said something about his clumsy dual-sword technique.

But no one said a word.

It was strange.

Even so, they didn’t question him further. Instead, Ragna swung his sword, pressing him even closer with the two blades.

The best way to utilize dual swords—it required thought, so Encrid thought. He pondered, experimenting during his training.

He hadn’t been idle.

While adapting his body to [Heart of Monstrous Strength], he had also practiced wielding two swords.

And yet, his technique was still rough. It was like carving a statue from a block of stone but never understanding what shape it should take.

So, Encrid’s movements were clumsy, messy, and frantic.

Ragna parried each of his strikes, ending the sparring session in a manner similar to how Rem had done—with overwhelming dominance.

“Mm.”

Ragna opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

“Huff… huff… hah.”

Breathing hard, Encrid placed his right hand on his thigh and drove one of his swords into the ground with his left. Sweat dripped from his body, pooling on the floor as he bent over, his head hanging low.

Sweat from his forehead ran down his nose and fell to the ground.

What could this be called? Relentless training?

If so, then his trembling limbs told another story.

The side effects of [Heart of Monstrous Strength]—it temporarily pushed his muscles beyond their limits.

As Ragna kept silent, Audin stepped in.

“You’ve pushed too hard, Squad Leader.”

Encrid glanced up at Audin.

Audin wore his usual smile, the kind he had when using the [Isolation Technique]. What was this? That smile usually hid some devilish intent.

“You need to rest,” Audin continued.

“Rest?”

“Yes, and no using the [Isolation Technique] either, Squad Leader.”

Strange. Audin usually wanted nothing more than to push him harder, to torment him further.

“We’ll talk later, later,” Ragna muttered, lost in his own thoughts.

When Encrid tried to stand, his body gave out, and he toppled to the side.

As if he had been waiting for this, Audin stepped forward and supported him.

“Let’s get you inside.”

“Don’t we have duties or missions today?”

“Even if we did, Squad Leader, you won’t be participating.”

Is that so?

Encrid vaguely understood. [Heart of Monstrous Strength]—it was a great weapon, an exceptional technique. Temporarily boosting one’s strength meant even battling monsters like Frok was possible.

And if mastered, it could even block a giant’s strike, just as Rem had done.

The sight of Rem standing firm against the giant had left a deep impression on him. Enough to make him envious.

There was no way he could give up on [Heart of Monstrous Strength] after seeing that.

Audin helped Encrid along.

“Go wash up.”

Despite his trembling limbs, Encrid strapped on his equipment.

“Why do you fight so much every day?” Krys scolded him from the side. Yet, as he grumbled, he busily helped Encrid gather his things.

“Go wash up. I’ll take care of your gear.”

“My stuff?”

“Do you know how many years I’ve lived on army rations? Do you know how much money I’ve made repairing gear? I’m better than most blacksmiths!”

Thinking back, it made sense. Whenever there were no women, cigarettes, or other goods to trade, what did Krys do?

He toured other units’ barracks.

For him, maintaining equipment was both a way to make connections and earn extra income.

Weapons might be precious to their owners, but for most soldiers, maintaining them was clearly a chore.

Encrid valued his own equipment—his sword, his armor—but he trusted Krys.

By the time he returned from washing up, Krys had even polished his sword to a shine.

“Under the moonlight, it could serve as a beacon to announce your location.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yeah.”

“Squad Leader, sometimes your compliments are… uniquely fitting.”

Krys said this just as Audin approached.

Encrid had just finished drying off and was about to sit on his cot when Audin’s hulking figure cast a shadow over him. Startled, Krys quickly stepped back.

“What is it? Audin? What do you want?”

“I have some business with Squad Leader.”

A wide grin.

A smile, but not just any smile—it was the smile of a bear, the grin of a hulking predator, or the plotting expression of a devil with a plan.

This couldn’t be good.

Encrid thought as much.

Soon, Audin’s hand reached out and made contact with Encrid’s body.

“When muscles are overworked, they tend to stiffen. There’s a technique to relieve that stiffness. That’ll be the next skill I’ll teach you.”

At the mention of teaching and learning, Encrid’s defensive demeanor shifted.

“What is it?”

Audin’s only reply was another grin.

It wasn’t reassuring, and Encrid’s unease proved well-founded.

“Ugh, ahhh, gghhh…!”

Audin’s fingers began pressing and twisting various spots on his body.

Pain.

Blinding pain.

Encrid felt his vision darken.

He thought he glimpsed the faint figure of a ferryman guiding a boat across a black river.

It felt as if he had dipped his feet into the river of death and somehow come back.

The agony clawed through every inch of his body.

“This is the technique to relieve stiffened muscles. When I learned it, they often called it ‘Blood, Sweat, and Tears.'”

Was that the name of the technique? No way. It couldn’t be.

Right now, there was no room in Encrid’s mind to dwell on it.

The sharp, electrifying pain surged through his entire body, leaving him no chance to form words.

The time of silent agony had arrived—a pain so severe that even screams refused to come.

Of course, the technique wasn’t one that would harm Encrid’s body.

He had to endure.