Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 3 : One Day

A day just like yesterday.

‘Was it a dream?’

It felt so vivid. Was it really a dream?

Encrid was bewildered.

Was it a dream, or was it real?

He faced the battlefield again, a day similar to the previous one.

Once more, it was chaos. Fighting in almost the same spot, he felt like he was seeing visions overlap.

‘Didn’t this happen yesterday too?’

Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought.

It was a distraction. It must have been a dream.

Was he lucky enough to have a prophetic dream?

‘Is it even lucky to have a prophetic dream?’

He didn’t know. It was impossible to know.

Encrid was confused.

Especially when Vel said, “Damn it, I almost died.”

“Vel, did you lose your mind because your head got split?”

He reflexively spoke the remembered words.

“What nonsense,” Vel grumbled as he got up. Encrid watched him and thought.

Vel would die soon.

Should he just watch it happen?

He did.

It felt surreal, so he left it alone.

A flash exploded Vel’s head, and his eyeball struck Encrid’s chest.

“If you space out, what do you expect to happen?”

Rem saved him again.

“What?”

“Have you finally lost it?” Rem twirled a finger near his ear while holding an axe.

“Some bastard is coming today. They say he’s as fierce as a hawk, so I’ve got to go catch him. Stay alert, or you’ll die quickly.”

“Worry about yourself.”

Encrid’s automatic response made Rem tilt his head but step back.

“Why don’t you ever listen and focus?” Rem muttered as he left.

Encrid picked up an axe from the ground with his left hand and gripped his sword with his right, standing on the battlefield.

He felt uneasy.

As he stood his ground, an enemy soldier approached rapidly.

It was quick. The soldier knew how to move.

One of Encrid’s sword instructors had said that seven-tenths of swordsmanship was footwork.

Seeing the blade, Encrid faced another moment of death.

In that fleeting moment, his focus sharpened. He saw a dot.

That dot grew smaller and then quickly larger.

Encrid watched it until it turned into a blade piercing his neck.

‘Ah.’

No scream or groan came out. His throat was pierced.

All that came was a hissing sound as air escaped his throat.

Agonizing pain spread from his neck throughout his body. Encrid clutched his neck and collapsed to the ground.

As blood gushed out,

“Mercy.”

The enemy soldier, watching him, spoke and then struck Encrid’s head with the sword’s point.

Darkness came again.

And then Encrid heard it again.

Bang, bang, bang.

The sound of a ladle hitting a pot.

“Why do you look so miserable this morning?”

It was Rem.

Holding his boots, Rem spoke.

Another day. The same day.

‘A dream?’

“Did you have a shitty dream?”

“Yeah, it was a dream, right?”

“Damn bug.”

Rem shook a bug out of his boot and spat on it before crushing it.

Encrid had seen this scene three times now.

He hadn’t even put on his boots or equipped his gear. He just sat there.

‘Is this a dream?’

The day restarted.

Vel died, and Rem saved him.

Rem left to find the archer nicknamed after a part of a hawk.

The skilled enemy soldier blocked his path.

“What are you?”

Encrid asked.

The enemy didn’t respond and simply thrust his sword. Encrid marveled at that thrust every time he saw it.

Thump.

His heart raced. His focus kicked in. He could see the tip of the sword more clearly than before.

He twisted his body to avoid it.

Crunch!

The result wasn’t great. The fluid thrust didn’t pierce his neck but tore a large gash beside it.

Burning pain spread from his neck across his body.

He fell to the ground again.

Blood gushed out.

“Mercy.”

The blade descended on his head.

Bang, bang, bang!

He woke up with a scream.

The pain was vivid. Encrid touched his neck.

“Was it a nightmare? Did a witch steal your virginity?” Rem joked.

“There’s a bug in your boot.”

Encrid covered half his face with his hand.

The pain of dying was one thing.

But understanding what was happening was impossible.

“What? How did you know?”

Rem emptied his boot, spat on the bug, and crushed it.

“Just knew.”

“A prophet now?”

“No.”

Encrid waved his hand dismissively.

He prepared as usual but then stopped.

“Rem.”

“What?”

“My head hurts too much. Take care of your meal, and if anyone looks for me, tell them I’m sick in the tent.”

“If you’re just trying to slack off…”

Rem laughed. He was always quick to laugh.

If this wasn’t a dream and if it repeated after he died,

Was that possible? Could such a thing happen?

Encrid needed time to think.

He returned to the tent, removed his gear, and sat down.

He thought and thought again.

How could this be happening?

‘What’s the cause?’

He groped around for an idea. The necklace he got from the village chief was gone.

‘Because of that?’

A wish? A desire?

‘A blessing?’

No, could this be called a blessing?

It was just a repeated day.

He had heard about blessing-type artifacts but had never seen or heard of anything like this.

‘It’s more like a curse, isn’t it?’

He rubbed his neck.

It hurt terribly. Dying was excruciatingly painful.

His head throbbed with complex thoughts.

He skipped lunch, and Rem brought food.

“What’s up with you? Are you really trying to slack off?”

The look in Rem’s eyes said he couldn’t believe it.

Encrid was known for his hard work.

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Encrid nodded twice.

“Strange, then rest. There’s a battle later this afternoon. Rest well until then. I’ll cover for you.”

Rem left.

Time passed. His thoughts didn’t clear.

This wasn’t something to be resolved by thinking.

Ahhhh!

Shouts echoed. The ground shook. The battle began.

Encrid had no intention of going out.

If he went out, he’d die to that thrust.

So he held back.

But he couldn’t hold back forever. As a disposable soldier, he couldn’t avoid the battlefield because he was in pain.

“Get ready and move out! It’s a battle!”

A guard making rounds shouted.

Encrid equipped his gear and went out.

He fought again.

This time, he stayed much further back than the day before.

He didn’t see Vel or Rem and just held his ground.

Suddenly, the front lines wavered.

The enemy’s movements were unusual. Their forces were pushing back.

Encrid found himself on the front lines again.

And there he was, that same soldier.

Was this coincidence or fate?

He didn’t know. But he knew that wherever he went, he’d either die or meet this soldier.

So now wasn’t the time to ask ‘why’ but ‘how.’

How to survive, not why he kept meeting him.

The thrust came.

‘What was the name of that technique?’

Rem had mentioned focusing on techniques once. Said knowing this one could save him in battle.

He said even in a monster’s lair, you should catch your breath calmly.

What Encrid was trying now was what Rem had taught him.

Something about a heart.

The name hovered on the edge of his memory.

The skill he couldn’t remember began to shine. Encrid saw the blade and realized he was holding his breath.

Thump.

His heart pounded. He saw the timing and angle of the blade coming for his neck.

He dodged, throwing himself to the side. It looked clumsy, but he survived.

The relief was brief.

Thud!

Pain exploded in the back of his head, and his vision blurred. He didn’t realize he had fallen.

An enemy soldier had hit him with an axe from behind.

As he looked up dazedly,

“Mercy.”

The soldier thrust the blade again.

Thunk.

Bang, bang, bang!

He opened his eyes again.

The day repeated.

‘Don’t think about it.’

Whether the necklace was a blessing or a curse, don’t think about it.

Don’t think about what’s happening.

Focus on two things.

Surviving the battlefield.

And doing whatever it takes to achieve that.

“There’s a bug in your boot.”

“Huh? Are you a prophet?”

“What was that thing you were going to teach me before?”

Blink, blink.

Rem blinked and then said,

“Heart of the Beast?”

Yes, that was it.

Heart of the Beast.

With a mere human heart, how could one keep their eyes open in a battlefield filled with spears, swords, and axes?

With the heart of a beast, it was possible. So he did.

Rem’s words came to mind.

“Teach me again.”

“Huh?”

Rem was taken aback.

Encrid understood.

He once struggled to learn, and Rem had put in effort to teach him.

In the end, Encrid learned nothing, and Rem taught nothing.

The basic training was to keep your eyes open in the moment.

Keeping your eyes open until the brink of death was not something done with mere bravery.

It wasn’t just about keeping your eyes open.

Rem’s skill was better than most elite mercenaries.

The essence of the training was to watch the axe as it cut into your neck and avoid it.

“Let’s do it, training.”

Passion burned in Encrid’s eyes.

A fire ignited in his chest.

‘Does it matter if it’s a blessing or a curse?’

He had no talent. He knew that.

And time was fair to everyone.

So a dullard couldn’t beat a genius.

But if time wasn’t fair?

Even a curse would do. It was a lifeline. A lifeline to move forward.

“Good. I’ve been feeling weak like a dog without a bone, but seeing you so energetic today lifts my spirits too.”

Rem stood up.

“After breakfast then.”

“Sure.”

They had breakfast, washed their dishes, talked about the dream of becoming a knight, and Rem laughed at that.

Then it was time for training.

“Did you forget the training method?”

“Not at all.”

It was so impressive that Encrid even had nightmares because of Rem’s training.

Nightmares of that damn axe cutting his neck.

“Let’s go.”

The essence of the training was simple.

When the axe came for your neck, you kept your eyes wide open and avoided it.

If Rem made a mistake, Encrid would die.

Originally, fear had prevented him from doing it properly.

But now things were different.

‘If I die, it just goes bang, bang, bang again.’

It was time to lose his fear. He recalled the focus he learned from dying, awakening the Heart of the Beast.

Encrid’s heart began to beat.

What was once a frightened, racing heartbeat slowed down.

A beast wasn’t easily startled. The slower heartbeat brought calm.

Calmness, the essence of the Heart of the Beast.

With a calm mind, he could see the axe’s trajectory.

He had trained his body constantly.

Seeing the trajectory and dodging wasn’t difficult.

The axe sliced through the air. Encrid timed it perfectly, stepping back with his right foot and pulling his body back.

The axe swung past his face.

“…Have you been practicing secretly?”

Rem asked.

“A little.”

“Good. But your timing was a bit early. You need to dodge just at the last moment.”

It was training to thicken the heart’s skin.

Rem swung the axe again.

Encrid waited until the axe was about to slice his neck before dodging.

“Wow, even in our tribe, few mastered this. Impressive.”

The morning training ended.

Rem patted Encrid’s shoulder.

“Well done. You’re good enough to handle mediocre opponents now.”

“What about those beyond mediocre?”

“What are you asking?”

“How would I handle meeting one?”

“Do you not know?”

Encrid stared at him, prompting Rem to continue. He seemed confused by Encrid’s questions today.

“Run.”

Yes, running away.

Facing a stronger opponent on the battlefield was madness.

Surviving thus far, Encrid had always been quick-witted and self-aware.

And now.

“Wouldn’t it be better to train against stronger opponents?”

“That kind of training would need a hundred lives.”

Rem laughed. As he laughed, Encrid thought,

It felt like he had hundreds of lives now.

Whether a blessing or a curse,

‘If I can use it, I’ll use it all.’

Encrid had lived that way.

And he intended to keep living that way.

He would face that thrust.

That was his plan. The perfect training partner.

The pain of death was excruciating, but the reward was immense.

For the first time in over a decade, Encrid felt the joy of growth.

An unparalleled feeling of fulfillment.

It was a satisfaction beyond comparison to any drug.