Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 35: He Was Purely Delighted

The members of the troublemaker squad were all strong-willed individuals, but they had one thing in common: they didn’t care much about what others thought.

Among them, Ragna stood out as someone who was particularly indifferent to the opinions of those around him and didn’t bother to pay attention to them either.

He lived a life of half-measures—eating just enough, fighting just enough, and living just enough.

He also slept a lot.

That’s why, when Ragna volunteered to take Encrid’s place on the reconnaissance mission, Encrid was genuinely surprised.

Ragna, volunteering for reconnaissance? Had their lazy squad member turned over a new leaf?

But that wasn’t the case.

Ragna was a fickle, mood-driven person. He had stepped forward in the heat of the moment, but within a day, or maybe even half a day, he likely would have backed out.

Encrid hadn’t sent him on the mission for that very reason.

There was a reason Encrid handled most of the troublesome tasks in the troublemaker squad.

Ragna was, in many ways, the complete opposite of Encrid.

He lacked motivation in everything, while Encrid was the type to carve out time to practice his swordsmanship.

Of course, Ragna did pick up his sword from time to time.

There were moments, like the time Encrid returned and saw him sparring with Rem, or times when he made a significant impact on the battlefield.

But whenever that happened, Ragna would mutter, “It wasn’t intentional.”

Encrid knew Ragna well, so he found it curious that Ragna was taking an interest in him.

‘What’s gotten into him?’

It was a rare occurrence.

Sure, Ragna would occasionally ask questions or make requests.

But he wasn’t the type to observe someone closely for days and then carefully formulate questions.

Encrid lowered the hand he’d been using to scratch his forehead.

Among the squad members, Rem was the most outgoing, but even he kept people at arm’s length.

Up close, it was clear that Rem didn’t let anyone past a certain boundary.

In that sense, Rem was perhaps even more difficult to deal with than a lazy person like Ragna.

But at least Rem spoke his mind.

Ragna, on the other hand, barely spoke when it was necessary.

So it was surprising when Ragna asked him a question.

Encrid stared into Ragna’s eyes for a moment.

A quiet silence hung between them.

Encrid locked eyes with Ragna, as if engaged in a staring contest, before lifting his head.

A cloudless sky greeted him.

Despite the recent rains, the sky was a brilliant blue with not a single cloud in sight.

His chest swelled with a sense of openness.

As Encrid looked at the sky, his thoughts about why Ragna was asking these questions, or whether his suspicions were correct, all faded away.

He stopped worrying.

Since Ragna had asked, Encrid would answer.

He approached everything—whether it was wielding a sword or dealing with people—with his best effort.

‘When did I start worrying about things like this?’

No matter how much effort he put in, his goals were always far away, and he lived a life constantly longing for more.

Ragna had asked why he went to such lengths.

Perhaps he was asking about the way Encrid would seize any opportunity to practice his swordsmanship.

Maybe he was referring to Encrid’s habit of not half-assing anything.

Or maybe he was asking about Encrid’s refusal to give up despite his meager skills.

So Encrid answered Ragna’s question with a question of his own.

“What if I were good with a sword? What do you think would’ve happened?”

At the edge of the makeshift camp, where there wasn’t a sliver of shade, the sun shone down on both of them as Ragna’s gaze remained fixed on Encrid’s face. Encrid spoke again.

“What would I have become? What could I have done?”

Encrid’s voice was smooth, like a well-crafted instrument.

At least, that’s how it sounded to Ragna.

It wasn’t a voice heated with excitement, nor was it tinged with despair.

It was calm and serene, like reading a storybook to a child.

“Right now, I swing my sword to survive. But that’s not how I want to live.”

With those words, Encrid swung his sword. A vertical slash from top to bottom.

*Whoosh.*

The blade cut through the air, releasing a distinct scent.

The smell of iron, mingled with the battlefield’s scent, tickled Ragna’s nose.

Encrid continued his training as if Ragna weren’t there.

He practiced his swordsmanship.

Top to bottom.

Bottom to top.

A diagonal slash, followed by a horizontal one.

He then practiced binding, imagining an opponent in front of him as he locked blades and followed with a counter.

Ragna didn’t respond. He just watched his squad leader.

Ragna knew that Encrid’s skill level was far from the lowest in the Naurilia Kingdom’s army.

But he also knew that Encrid wasn’t exactly an exceptional swordsman or warrior either.

Even if Encrid were to enter the mercenary world, he would, at best, be slightly above average.

For a mid-level mercenary, that wasn’t particularly impressive.

Ragna had once been deeply involved in the mercenary world, so he understood the various levels of skill well.

When it came to swordsmanship, he had an instinctual understanding, almost on par with a prodigy.

He could gauge Encrid’s skill and see his limits.

‘It’s too late.’

Encrid had started off on the wrong foot.

From the moment he first picked up a sword, he should have focused on the basics. But a lack of talent had deprived him of that opportunity.

And what about the Encrid of today?

He was right. It was desperation, a struggle to survive that had honed his skills, but those same skills were holding him back.

There were only two aspects of Encrid’s skill set that Ragna found worthwhile.

The first was the “Heart of the Beast,” taught to him by Rem, who, despite his lack of luck, had a decent amount of skill.

The second was the sudden improvement in his thrust.

Aside from those two, Encrid’s basic techniques were lacking, forcing him to rely on trickery.

And that trickery was the problem.

Ragna didn’t hold back his insight, but instead of telling Encrid directly, he asked what had been bothering him.

“If you get good with the sword, what will you do then?”

Encrid stopped swinging his sword.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, rolling down to his chin before dripping onto the ground.

The sweat quickly seeped into the dirt beneath his feet.

Sunlight, steel, wind, and sky.

Encrid took it all in as he spoke of a dream he had repeated countless times.

“I want to be a knight, a knight who races to the end of the battlefield.”

“Why?”

Ragna asked. For him, it was a natural question.

Ragna saw the path.

He could see the destination, even without experiencing it.

But would that path be enjoyable?

If you have no particular desire or purpose upon reaching the destination, there’s no reason to walk that path.

That was how Ragna felt.

He could see the path and the destination, but he was a wanderer who neither wanted to walk that path nor could walk it.

“Does there need to be a reason to want something?”

Encrid countered.

This was his dream, his passion. It was his life and the sum of his experiences.

It was also the dream that had captivated him as a child.

How many times had he repeated this dream to himself?

There was no reason behind his desire.

But he had no intention of letting that desire end as just a dream.

“I want to live in a way that I believe is right. To wield my sword for the poor and sick, to fight for honor, and to protect those I love.”

What is a knight?

Is it just a well-trained killing machine?

People often called knights that—a specialized weapon of war.

But if that was all Encrid had envisioned when he dreamed of becoming a knight, he wouldn’t have kept practicing with his sword for so long.

A knight is someone who upholds honor and loyalty, someone who expresses their beliefs through their blade.

Most people no longer seek such knights, but Encrid clung to the ideal of chivalry.

As he spoke, Encrid thought of Crang.

Why did Crang’s words carry so much weight?

How did he manage to captivate everyone?

Now, Encrid was starting to understand.

It was because Crang spoke with sincerity and conviction.

That was the foundation.

So Encrid spoke from his heart as well.

To Ragna, this was a shocking revelation.

Of course, Ragna didn’t show it outwardly, so Encrid was unaware.

Ragna asked himself a question.

If he wanted to live according to his beliefs, why did he need a sword?

Because without power, it was difficult to realize those beliefs.

There was always an emptiness in Ragna’s heart.

That was the source of his sense of helplessness.

But now, as he conversed with Encrid, a different kind of fire began to burn in Ragna’s heart, replacing that helplessness.

With this spark igniting in his chest, Ragna fell into deep thought.

He sat down on the grass in one corner of the plain.

What is a knight, and what is a sword?

As these questions gnawed at him, he came to a conclusion.

‘I won’t know unless I walk the path.’

He had found a reason to walk the path.

Encrid left him to his thoughts and continued swinging his sword.

Amidst the silence, there was only the sound of the sword cutting through the air, the sky, and the wind.

The silence wasn’t long-lasting.

“Do you want to learn the sword?”

Ragna asked, staring at a pointed rock embedded in the ground.

*Pak!*

With a thrust, Encrid’s sweat scattered into the air.

He stopped in that position. His breathing was steady, his eyes fixed on the tip of his sword as he answered.

“Yes.”

His tone was plain and calm.

If there was a chance to learn, Encrid wouldn’t miss it. It was only natural for him.

Ragna was surprised by his own words.

‘Why did I say that?’

But he quickly realized why.

Half of it was because he wanted to show his squad leader the right path.

The other half was for himself.

‘With the squad leader around…’

He found himself pushing harder.

Watching Encrid live gave him motivation.

Ragna needed that motivation—a push to walk down a long, boring path.

Encrid’s presence was that push for him.

With him around, Ragna would train, albeit clumsily.

Seeing Encrid improve had invigorated him like never before.

He had sparred with Encrid, volunteered for reconnaissance in his place, and even warmed up with Rem.

These were rare occurrences.

At least for Ragna, they were.

What would happen if he trained Encrid?

It was more an act of self-interest than altruism.

And Encrid didn’t waste time questioning his reasons.

‘Why is he doing this?’

He hadn’t asked for anything, yet Ragna had offered to teach him swordsmanship.

When learning the *Heart of the Beast*, Encrid had pestered Rem to the point of annoyance.

And when he wanted to learn from Jaxson, it was the same.

All those times, Encrid had to take the initiative.

But this time was different.

Ragna had been watching him closely for days, then suddenly approached and asked a few questions before offering to teach him.

Encrid saw it as a great opportunity.

So he didn’t want to question his reasons.

During their sparring sessions, Ragna had always kept silent about swordsmanship beyond the necessary movements.

Encrid was like a starving wolf when it came to swordsmanship.

He had pestered Ragna with countless questions during their spars and pushed for more, but Ragna had always evaded answering.

But now, he was offering to teach.

“So then…”

Ragna dusted himself off and stood up, hesitating as he chose his words.

Encrid lowered his sword and waited calmly.

As he waited, Rem’s words echoed in his mind.

“I’m not the right one to teach you swordsmanship.”

Rem was skilled not only with an axe but also with a sword. Encrid had seen him cut down enemies with a sword multiple times.

“I rely purely on instinct when I swing my sword. It’s not something you can teach. You’d be better off learning in a more systematic way.”

It didn’t seem like Rem was just avoiding teaching him. It wasn’t that he was too stingy to share his techniques either.

If that were the case, he wouldn’t have taught Encrid the *Heart of the Beast*.

At the time, Encrid had simply accepted it and moved on.

While Encrid was lost in thought, Ragna spoke up.

“That beast’s heart or whatever that savage taught you…”

…*Heart of the Beast*. How did that become a beast’s heart?

If Rem heard that, he’d probably swing his axe at Ragna.

“And that thrust.”

Ragna continued, meeting Encrid’s gaze.

“Besides those, I think you need to rebuild everything from scratch. Are you okay with that?”

Encrid tilted his head, not fully understanding.

“So you need to start over from the basics. Can you do that?”

Ragna didn’t know any other way to teach or learn swordsmanship.

At first, Encrid found it hard to agree.

“Why?”

Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

No matter what others said, Encrid considered it an excellent technique.

“If you keep using that mercenary swordsmanship, you won’t be able to improve beyond where you are now.”

Ragna continued to explain.

His examples were rough, and his explanations weren’t clear, but Encrid quickly grasped the point.

The key was this:

His current state had clear limitations.

Even if he continued training as he was, he could still improve.

But the progress would be slow, and he wouldn’t be able to surpass those limitations.

When asked why, Ragna said it was because he had learned too many scattered techniques.

“The bottom line is that your fundamentals are lacking.”

Encrid hadn’t expected to hear that.

Even when he spent his silver and gold coins on lessons at various training halls, the instructors always emphasized the importance of fundamentals, so he had invested quite a bit of time in them.

Upon reflection, it made sense that he would hear something like this.

After all, he was always in the position of paying for lessons.

During those times, Encrid couldn’t afford to focus solely on the basics.

So he had practiced what he considered basic—slashing and thrusting—on his own.

That was the problem.

A brief moment of realization washed over him, and a wave of excitement surged through his body.

His hand holding the sword trembled.

He could see the path ahead.

The wall that had always blocked his view, the darkness beyond it—it was all gone. A rough but clear path had opened up.

The euphoria of this moment was something that no other experience in his life could compare to.

As his hands trembled, Ragna spoke in a cautious tone.

“Now you have to choose. Will you start anew, or will you be content with where you are?”

Ragna expected Encrid to give up.

Starting over meant rebuilding from the ground up.

This meant that his skill level, which had reached a mid-high level in the mercenary world, would drop back down to a low level.

Could he endure that?

Especially when he was living on the battlefield, surviving by the sword?

Maybe if he had multiple lives, it would be possible.

Even if he wanted to, it wouldn’t be easy.

In the face of death, your body would naturally revert to the techniques it had already learned.

“You’d have to stake a few lives on it.”

Ragna said. His words were blunt but carried genuine concern.

Encrid nodded.

Ragna wasn’t sure what that nod meant, so he looked at him questioningly, prompting Encrid to speak again.

“I’ll rebuild.”

“Are you serious?”

Ragna was surprised by Encrid’s answer.

There didn’t seem to be a hint of hesitation in his response.

Even though just moments ago, Encrid’s hands had been trembling.

Ragna had thought it was out of frustration, anger, or despair.

But Encrid’s reaction was the exact opposite.

“Yes.”

He was purely delighted.