Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 140: Sure, Why Not

“We’re learning the sense of evasion today.”

If Ragna had taught Encrid to always keep two swords on him, Jaxson had something different to impart. It was one of the techniques he’d shared on the day they killed the giant.

Encrid didn’t need to learn it separately; he could train in both at once.

What Jaxson was teaching didn’t interfere with other training. It started with improving visual tracking—Jaxson would throw stones with words written on them, and Encrid had to read the words mid-flight.

Of course, it wasn’t easy. But slowly, through persistence, he improved.

Now, he could clearly see what was written on the stones as they flew toward him.

This progress was thanks to the experience Encrid had accumulated. Moments of revelation, gained through confidence and belief in himself, had allowed him to keep moving forward.

Right as another stone flew toward Encrid’s forehead—

“Ambush!” a shout rang out.

Encrid instinctively caught the stone mid-air.

“Enemy attack!”

‘Fweeeeet!’

“Arrows incoming! Get down!”

Amid the panicked cries of the commander and soldiers, Jaxson nonchalantly spoke.

“And the word on the stone?”

What a relentless man.

Encrid, still wearing his leather armor and carrying his swords at his waist, didn’t hesitate to reply as he turned.

“‘Mi.’”

“Good,” Jaxson said, standing up.

Before either of them could react further, someone else had already dashed forward.

“Where are they?!” It was Rem.

After eight days of relative peace, sparring with Encrid and Andrew had kept his restlessness at bay. But now, the Western barbarian leaped out excitedly, axe in hand, thrilled at the thought of battle.

What if another giant showed up? Wouldn’t that be something?

Rem’s feet moved swiftly, his body light. He moved faster than any commander or soldier and reached the source of the commotion first.

Encrid followed, heading toward the outskirts of the camp, near the perimeter and in the direction of the enemy lines.

By the time he arrived, he saw Rem glancing left and right, searching.

Encrid scanned the surroundings as well. But there was nothing significant—no enemy troops, no signs of attack. Only a fallen soldier with an arrow through his head lay slumped on the ground.

“Where’s the enemy?” Encrid asked.

Jaxson, also surveying the area, shook his head. “They’re gone.”

Even Jaxson’s sharp eyes found little evidence. This could only mean one thing.

They hadn’t launched a full-scale attack.

Just arrows fired from a distance? Sure, it had killed one of their soldiers, but was this really effective?

From beyond the camp’s perimeter, in the dense brush, there was some movement. But it wasn’t the enemy.

It was their own forces—soldiers of the “Border Butchers,” recognizable by the eagle insignias on their uniforms. They were advancing toward the enemy lines, their steps quiet and deliberate.

“Chase them,” came an order from what appeared to be their leader, and the soldiers moved into the brush. Their movements reminded Encrid of Finn.

They all carried the air of rangers, highly skilled in stealth and precision.

“What’s going on?” Rem stood nearby, clearly frustrated. His narrowed eyes and tense posture reflected his irritation.

“Let it go,” Encrid said, stopping him. Left unchecked, Rem would stir up even more chaos.

“Come here,” he called, beckoning. Rem snorted but eventually turned back.

“The enemy’s tactics are filthy,” Rem muttered, glancing at the fallen soldier with the arrow through his head. He wasn’t looking with pity but examining the arrow.

“That crazy bastard’s back. This is his doing,” Rem said, his eyes narrowing with recognition.

“Who is it?” Encrid asked.

“You don’t remember?”

Encrid tilted his head. Even if Rem remembered, Encrid didn’t; they had spent their days differently, experiencing time in separate ways.

“That guy—Hawk’s Claw, or whatever the hell he called himself.”

Now Encrid turned his attention to the arrow. It was longer than typical arrows, with feathers extending far back along the shaft.

Even without inspecting the bloodied tip, it was clear this wasn’t a standard arrow.

Rem scratched his chin, visibly restless. A missed target weighed heavily on him.

As a former hunter, his eyes instinctively followed the trail of his quarry. Should he chase them? How long would it take if he did?

While Rem calculated, Encrid patted his shoulder.

“How about a spar instead?”

Let’s leave it. There would be another chance to confront them.

And when that day came, they’d have their conversation—though it would likely involve axes rather than words.

“Sure,” Rem replied, his frustration easing.

As Encrid turned back, a stone suddenly flew past his head, narrowly missing him.

It skimmed Rem’s forehead, its trajectory so quick it was hard to track.

Somehow, Jaxson had written something on it before throwing it.

“‘Chin,’” Encrid read the word calmly, despite his surprise.

He had almost missed it, but his training was paying off.

“Well done,” Jaxson nodded approvingly.

“What the hell?! Who throws a rock at someone’s head?” Rem exploded.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Jaxson replied, his tone dripping with feigned innocence.

It was an obvious lie, but also just another mundane squabble.

“Enough,” Encrid said.

While such fights were common, things had changed. He no longer needed to step in physically. Words were enough.

“Cut it out, Rem,” he said firmly, with a hint of authority he had gained from mastering [Heart of Monstrous Strength].

Rem, surprisingly, listened well. It seemed Jaxson wasn’t immune either; a single glare from Encrid sufficed.

“Yes, I’ll be more careful,” Jaxson replied.

With that settled, they returned to the barracks.

“What’s going on?” Ragna asked, emerging late from his tent.

If he wasn’t watching Encrid or sparring with him, Ragna remained as lazy as ever.

“Enemy ambush. They fired arrows and ran,” Encrid explained.

“I see,” Ragna replied.

Did he even listen properly? He didn’t seem interested in the slightest. Was it boldness or simple thoughtlessness?

‘The latter.’

If he had to bet a Krong, Encrid would wager on the latter. He took a deep breath, raised his sword, and resumed training.

Between sword drills, he continued practicing reading the words on flying stones. He loosened stiff muscles with the ‘Valaf Pressure Point Technique’, honed his martial arts, joint locks, and combat techniques, and diligently refined the [Isolation Technique].

All the while, he kept his two swords close, never letting them leave his side.

“Your stance—never let it break,” Audin would say, watching closely. “No matter what you do, focus on your stance. A broken stance leads to injury. You don’t want to be an injured Squad Leader, do you?”

Was that a warning or just his odd sense of humor?

Maintaining the [Isolation Technique] stance while wielding two swords was challenging but not impossible. For Encrid, that was all that mattered.

As the sun dipped westward, a soldier’s shout rang out.

“Ambush! Damn it!”

The enemy had struck again.

Though the first attack might have caught them off guard, they should have been prepared this time. Yet, another arrow pierced the head of one of their soldiers.

The border defense unit responded. They were an elite squad, skilled in operating in such terrain. But they failed to catch the attacker.

“This isn’t good,” Krys muttered, furrowing his brow.

Encrid ignored him. The enemy was elusive, firing a single arrow from a great distance and retreating immediately. Their longbow, with its unnaturally extended range, was an exceptional weapon.

Chasing such an enemy was nearly impossible.

Encrid focused solely on his training, not considering this his concern. His energy was better spent here.

“‘In.’”

He read the fifth word off the stone mid-air. Combined with the others, it spelled “mad barbarian.”

“This was written before you told me to be careful,” Jaxson said, a weak excuse accompanied by a glance at the ground. Encrid didn’t even feel like scolding him.

“Calm down,” he said, stopping Rem instead.

Rem had already grabbed his axe, clearly about to hurl it if no one intervened.

The day passed, and the next was much the same.

Training, sparring, occasional enemy ambushes.

Krys continued muttering about how bad things were.

Meanwhile, Encrid immersed himself fully in Jaxson’s training.

“The sense of evasion is essentially developing the ability to dodge,” Jaxson explained. “It’s about honing your prediction skills through experience and improving your coordination. The goal is for your body to move as soon as your eyes register something.”

Curious about what he was supposed to dodge, Encrid watched as Jaxson unsheathed his sword.

‘Schring.’

The blade gleamed as it caught the light. Jaxson then asked, “Will you be using both swords?”

Was that concern or a warning? Perhaps both.

“Yes,” Encrid replied.

Knowing Encrid’s tenacity, Jaxson nodded and prepared to share one of his most refined techniques.

“If you fail to dodge, you’ll die,” he added bluntly, both a warning and a challenge.

‘Ping.’

The sound of air being split followed. A single point, almost imperceptible, hurtled toward Encrid. Even with his [One-Point Focus] activated, he could barely react.

‘Tick.’

The blade’s tip grazed his forehead.

“Next time, you’ll actually die,” Jaxson said.

It wasn’t just about speed—it was something else entirely. The thrust wasn’t just fast; it was precise, like folding space to strike a single point.

Encrid had seen many forms of attack—Rem’s axe swinging like a whip, flashing strikes cutting through the air, enemy lunges, even dodging [Whistle Daggers].

But Jaxson’s thrust felt entirely different.

It was almost magical, as if the blade had bypassed the laws of motion and arrived instantly.

“Again,” Encrid said, eyes alight with determination. New techniques always excited him. He was ready to accept and master them.

“If you fail, you’ll really die,” Jaxson warned again.

Despite the words, Encrid didn’t actually die.

Some things remained unchanged.

Whether it was three or four ambushes a day, the enemy’s probing attacks, or the border guard’s repeated failures to catch them, Encrid stayed focused on his training.

Could he see Jaxson’s thrusts? Yes.

Could he dodge them? Not yet.

The key now was, as Jaxson said, coordination. Encrid had to drastically reduce his reaction time, merging sight and movement into one seamless action.

Why couldn’t he dodge Jaxson’s blade?

“The ‘Deathless Thrust.’ You won’t need to learn it,” Jaxson said nonchalantly, but the name ignited Encrid’s desire to master it.

“When can I learn it?” Encrid asked.

“After you finish everything else.”

“Fine.”

The “Deathless Thrust” was a rapid, lifeless strike, devoid of the killing intent that bodies instinctively reacted to. That was why Encrid struggled—it lacked the malice that normally triggered his reflexes.

This training was about overriding that limitation, making his body react purely on will.

“See, react, and dodge,” Jaxson instructed.

Easier said than done.

Still, Encrid made slow but steady progress. He could feel himself improving, however gradually.

How could that not excite him?

Especially when—

“You’re improving,” Jaxson said.

Unlike other instructors, Jaxson was generous with praise, encouraging Encrid at every step.

His training methods focused on consistent effort—half a life’s commitment to rigorous practice ensured results.

Even so, Jaxson couldn’t help but wonder about something during every moment of training.

‘Why am I even doing this?’

Jaxson couldn’t find a clear answer. He kept stepping in to help Encrid, yet the reason eluded him.

He had been trained since childhood to assign logical reasons to every action. Yet here he was, acting contrary to that training.

‘Let’s just do it.’

Jaxson decided to set his questions aside for now. Watching Encrid train brought him an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction—a feeling he had never experienced before.

He had spent his life killing, confirming his kills, and extracting information. Yet none of those moments had stirred any emotion in him.

This was different. For the first time, he felt something.

How could he not be exhilarated?

The smile on Jaxson’s face as he thrust his sword came from that emotion. Encrid, however, was too focused on training to notice. Only those around him—Rem, Ragna, and Audin—saw it.

“That bastard’s gonna kill someone at this rate,” Rem muttered bitterly.

“The sparring’s too much. It’s my turn next,” Ragna said, expressing his own selfish desire.

“Haha, our Brother seems to be enjoying himself,” Audin commented, his tone tinged with disapproval. “But balance is important in all things. The Lord has said, ‘What happens when the scales tip too far?’”

All three of them were grumbling now.

Krys observed them from the sidelines, his expression growing increasingly serious.

‘This isn’t good.’

While these three swung their swords without a care, the state of the unit was deteriorating. The command structure of the border guard and their higher-ups were failing to act decisively.

Were they incapable of thinking, or simply unwilling to?

‘Seriously, how long are they going to just stand by and watch?’

Krys couldn’t shake the feeling that they were wasting time. If they continued like this, they would only invite more danger.

It was time to act.

“Hey, Squad Leader.”

Krys approached Encrid, unwilling to keep risking their position in silence. If something so obvious could be avoided, why not take action?

“Hm?” Encrid turned, drenched in sweat. His heated gaze didn’t faze Krys in the slightest.

“Don’t you think it’s time to make a suggestion to command?”

Encrid tilted his head, puzzled.

“If we keep wasting time like this, nothing good will come of it,” Krys explained. He laid out the situation, highlighting the unit’s capabilities and potential actions they could take.

“…So, we’ve got mobility on our side. All we need is some coordination.”

It was a straightforward, practical idea.

Having seen Krys’s sharp insights on more than one occasion, Encrid knew the man wasn’t just chasing Krongs. He nodded in agreement.

“Sure, why not?”

After all, there were plenty of things Encrid wanted to test anyway. This could be the perfect opportunity.

It was only natural for Encrid to nod so readily.

“Good,” Krys said, his relief evident. He had been slightly tense, but now he relaxed. Encrid simply nodded again, unfazed.

This wasn’t a difficult decision.

Ultimately, command would make the final judgment. All Encrid had to do was plant the seed.