Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 18: Alive?

At night, he tried to listen for the sound of an approaching assassin.

There was no particular reason.

He couldn’t sense any sounds or presences.

‘For now, let’s continue like this.’

There was no need for hesitation. If a training method was decided, just follow through like a cow plowing a field.

That’s what Encrid did.

Before the poison dart flew, the assassin would certainly enter the tent.

The goal was to detect that presence.

Each time he fell asleep, he woke up to the same morning.

However, he didn’t foolishly repeat only nighttime training.

Doing the best you can is always beneficial.

During the day, he sought out Jaxson.

Today was the day after learning the auditory training.

Encrid had to wait quietly in front of the tent.

He had arrived much earlier than usual.

Since he could hear whispers inside, he didn’t get any closer.

He didn’t need to know what sweet nothings were being exchanged.

After waiting, he met Jaxson.

“Let’s walk together.”

They would walk and talk. The same questions, the same demeanor.

Despite hearing the same things repeatedly, Encrid inadvertently displayed Krang’s attentive listening attitude.

Listening well is deeply connected to learning well.

You need to listen and understand first to move forward.

Even without realizing it, Encrid knew instinctively that listening was important.

In that respect, an attentive attitude was an excellent tool.

Jaxson repeatedly said the same things.

Occasionally, Encrid had to pretend to be a genius.

“Growing eyes on the back of your head means listening, right? Hearing with your ears?”

“…There’s no need for further explanation, is there?”

“Sounds have direction too, right? You can distinguish between front, back, left, and right based on the direction and intensity of the sound?”

“A genius, huh?”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re quite clever.”

“You thought I was dumb?”

“No, that’s not it.”

Then he would die again. Another repeated day began with Platoon Leader Benzence’ complaints.

“Ah, no breakfast? Where the hell is that bastard?”

“Yeah, it’s natural to get cranky when hungry.”

“What?”

“I’m going to get breakfast so our platoon leader stops whining.”

“…Are you crazy?”

Not really.

It didn’t matter much what he said, so he started off teasing.

He took in the sights around him.

He used parts of the recurring day as indicators to make each repetition slightly different.

Half-jokingly skipping breakfast, Encrid repeated the day.

Five times, ten times.

As he repeated, he got used to pulling Jaxson out of the tent.

At first, it was awkward, but after overhearing their intimate conversations, he became bolder.

They talked about what was good today, what was good last time, and their preferred positions.

In the repeated days, Encrid brazenly pulled back the tent flap.

“Jaxson, got a moment?”

“…What is it?”

“If you want to continue, step aside.”

“You sure know how to kill the mood.”

“Then get out.”

The woman beside Jaxson shot him a bewildered look as if to say, “Who the hell is this guy?”

It was initially awkward, but he got used to it and became shameless.

He ignored her.

More importantly, Jaxson never expressed any significant complaints about this.

He was just curious about why Encrid was acting this way.

His curiosity was always resolved in the same way.

“Are you curious about that?”

“No, I’m not.”

The same went for training. Once Encrid became somewhat accustomed to listening to sounds, Jaxson expressed his curiosity.

“…Have you learned this before?”

“A little from my grandfather when I was young.”

Encrid was a war orphan.

He didn’t know his parents, let alone his grandfather.

“I see.”

Despite such ridiculous excuses, Jaxson just let it go.

Encrid always made the most of each day.

While training stabbing was about moving his body, this time it was about staying still.

There were results.

Encrid was slow but steadily progressing.

‘Just do as you’ve learned.’

If he couldn’t take a step, he’d take a half step.

If even that wasn’t possible, he’d wiggle his toes.

After repeating the same day about twenty times,

‘I can hear it.’

He could hear the sound of the wind hitting the flag.

Creak.

He heard the grating sound from the cart wheels.

It sounded like a broken gear.

‘It’s a breaking sound.’

There are different types of sounds.

Some sounds convey information as if they’re speaking.

For example, the sound of the flag.

“Finding out it’s a west wind is easy. Confirm the direction I’m sitting, find north, and then follow the direction of the flapping flag.”

It’s easier said than done. No one can do it at once.

Repeat and repeat again.

Despite dividing days and living day by day, his mindset didn’t change.

Everything created a synergy effect.

‘Follow the sound of the flapping flag.’

Depending on where he sat,

He could determine the direction of the wind. It wouldn’t be practical in everyday life or on the battlefield.

You can tell the direction of the wind from where you’re sitting.

However, figuring it out solely by sound was significant.

Distinguishing the doctor’s voice,

Estimating the distance by gauging the size.

‘If learned properly, it could be useful on the battlefield.’

Come to think of it, Jaxson always avoided dangerous battlefields by a step.

Did he listen, judge, and move in advance?

Could that be done?

It wasn’t something to know right now.

Distinguishing sounds was the first step of this training.

The second was measuring distance by hearing.

Encrid had just completed these two steps.

The third step was discerning tiny sounds.

The best training was to hear an assassin’s presence, he had said.

‘It’s amusing.’

It was the perfect environment.

Dying without knowing what happened was far more unpleasant than expected.

The very situation of dying without resistance was the worst.

However,

‘Could this be an opportunity?’

That thought naturally came to him.

He didn’t get up from his bed. Getting involved with the freckled guard always ended with that friend’s death.

There was no need for that.

He lay down, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

Listening first.

The rest could be thought of later.

During the day, he listened to the sound of rolling carts, creaking wooden pegs, and the sound of intact carts.

He distinguished the flapping flag, tents, and people’s voices in the wind.

Repeating the same task might be exhausting and difficult for some.

‘It’s fun.’

But not for Encrid.

Even small growth brought him joy.

It wasn’t like when he learned the Heart of the Beast, rolling his body.

This consumed mental energy.

Concentrating too hard sometimes gave him splitting headaches.

But after repeating it about thirty times, he was fine.

Living a slightly different today from yesterday.

Encrid loved it so much he could shiver.

On the fifty-sixth night,

Swish.

He heard the sound of a torch burning on the stand.

A soldier guarding the night, startled from drowsiness, tapped the ground with his spear.

The freckled guard occasionally peeked inside the tent.

Among those sounds, a tiny noise pierced his ears.

A whooshing sound.

‘Heard it.’

It was distinctly different from usual. Encrid’s ears caught the subtle difference.

As soon as he heard it, he rolled to the side without hesitation.

‘Dodged it.’

The initial plan was to shout after dodging.

Encrid couldn’t do that.

Hiss.

He heard the sound of air being sliced behind him.

There wasn’t even time to draw the dagger he had hidden.

He rolled forward again.

Swoosh, swish, shwick.

A series of small, indescribable noises continued.

By distinguishing directions through sound, Encrid barely, just barely, avoided the attacks.

The tip of a blade grazed his thigh.

‘That was lucky.’

If he had been careless, his thigh would have been cut. Even a scratch was dangerous against this opponent.

Would an enemy using poisoned darts not coat their blades with poison?

He rolled and bounced his body to avoid the attacks.

The Heart of the Beast shone.

Despite continuous dangerous moments,

His heart remained cold and calm.

There was no need to get excited.

If it was just about listening and dodging,

‘I’m fine. I can manage.’

He could avoid if he gave up counterattacking.

A blade aimed vertically at his back.

The opponent’s intention was clear.

Even a graze would be enough.

Encrid rolled towards Benzence’s bed amidst the commotion, pushing it with his shoulder.

Thud.

A heavy impact reverberated through his shoulder muscles.

Despite hitting hard, Platoon Leader Benzence didn’t wake up.

‘Poisoned dart.’

He wouldn’t wake up. It was probably a paralytic or sleep-inducing poison.

“Tough bastard.”

This time, perhaps in a rush, he heard the assassin mutter and tap the ground.

Encrid, breath heavy, panted.

Sensing his opponent’s labored breathing, the assassin thrust his knife with his right hand and threw a poisoned dart with his left.

It was a near-perfect kill move.

Despite his heavy breathing, Encrid responded quickly.

He dodged the knife and used Benzence’s arm as a shield to block the dart.

The dart stuck into Benzence’ forearm with a thud.

As the assassin hesitated seeing his attack blocked, Encrid rolled towards the tent entrance.

The heavy breathing was a ruse.

‘This is the Valen-style mercenary sword technique, Deceptive Breath.’

It was a trick to create an opportunity by making the opponent think they had a chance to end the fight easily.

A well-executed move.

Encrid used his body’s momentum to half-rise and act as if he was running out of the tent.

The assassin lunged.

That was also a trick.

Encrid turned towards the wall instead of the entrance, drawing his dagger to cut through the tent wall.

Thinking it was a winning fight if he cut through and escaped,

Riiip.

The tent wall was torn first.

Beyond the cut wall,

“You’re a bit late.”

A voice and glowing green eyes appeared.

It was the elf company commander. The culprit behind the assassination.

Encrid instinctively tried to stab.

Though he held a dagger, it was a technique repeated countless times and ingrained in his body.

Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted and thrust at the opponent.

His right arm shot forward like a spear.

The elf company commander, eyes gleaming, stepped in and swung his right hand outward.

Thwack, swoosh.

The trajectory of his stab was diverted. Simultaneously, the commander swept Encrid’s supporting leg.

The world spun, and Encrid rolled on the ground.

Then the elf company commander made an inexplicable move.

Thud.

Encrid, ignoring it, pulled his cloak and flapped it to block the front.

Thud, thud.

Something stuck onto the cloak.

Poison darts.

“Are you alright?”

Looking in a daze, Encrid saw Krang crouching outside the tent.

“There was a guard?”

The assassin’s voice was visibly shaken.

“An assassination? Makes me sick.”

The elf company commander spoke, letting the cloak fall.

Encrid’s mind raced to grasp the situation.

‘Not an assassin?’

Was he a protector?

Then what he saw at the time of his death wasn’t the one who killed him but someone who arrived late?

“Doesn’t seem injured?”

“Just startled.”

Encrid answered Krang’s question and turned around.

The assassin, upon seeing the elf company commander, seemed to think of fleeing as he shifted his weight backward.

The commander didn’t seem intent on stopping him.

Soon the assassin started retreating slowly, then bolted out of the tent entrance.

Even while running, his footsteps made almost no sound.

“This is…”

Krang chuckled awkwardly and entered the tent.

The company commander approached the tent entrance, grabbed the shoulder of the unconscious freckled guard, and dragged him inside before tossing him down.

He glanced at Platoon Leader Benzence before turning away.

Green eyes met Encrid’s.

A brief silence.

After a moment, the commander tilted his head and spoke.

“You’re alive?”

His question was mixed with surprise.