Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 42: Luck Was on My Side

When Ragna discussed the technique called “Singular Focus,” he asked:

“Do you want to learn it?”

“Of course.”

Encrid didn’t hesitate for a second.

‘When did his skills improve so much?’

His foundation in the Northern heavy sword style was rock solid. It wasn’t just that he had swung his sword in the air and learned the posture. He had honed his skills through real combat, where they stuck to him like a second skin.

‘Impressive.’

The squad leader was quite a remarkable person. Up until yesterday, his main focus had been the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

But today, he showed an incredibly solid foundation.

“Who taught you swordsmanship?”

“It cost me a lot of money.”

It implied he had learned from a swordsmanship instructor.

‘It must have cost him a fortune.’

And rightly so. Even if I had trained him, I couldn’t have done better.

It made sense to teach him beyond the basics.

That’s why Ragna brought up the “Singular Focus.”

However, as he mentioned this, Ragna was secretly skeptical.

‘Learning it doesn’t mean mastering it.’

Although he claimed to have developed it himself, it was actually a secret technique passed down through his family.

Of course, he didn’t pass it on exactly as it was. He couldn’t just hand out his family’s secret techniques to anyone. So he modified and improved a portion of it before teaching it.

So saying he developed the technique wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

‘I’ve never seen anyone actually master it.’

Ragna had seen fewer than five people enter the focused state he described.

Considering the years he had roamed the continent and his extensive experience, that was an astonishingly small number.

‘Not five, maybe three at best.’

Out of the five, two were like arrows that had accidentally struck a wolf’s head.

They were like coins picked up by sheer luck from the goddess of fortune.

So, the number of people who could truly handle the concentration ability was three.

It required talent.

Forgetting everything around you and focusing entirely wasn’t an easy feat.

This talent wasn’t limited to swordsmanship alone. Some scholars displayed this level of concentration when mastering and learning their fields.

They could even induce this state of focus at will.

They achieved this through immersion and intense engagement.

But was it really easy to do that while fighting?

It was hard not to be skeptical.

Even if luck allowed a brief experience, mastering it was unlikely.

‘It’s tough, really tough.’

Ragna had made the *Concentrate One* his own after stepping into that state just once.

But it would be difficult for Encrid.

So why did he show such determination?

“Aren’t you going to explain? I know the basics well enough, so skip those. Teach me *Singular Focus*.”

How could he be so straightforward and earnest?

It felt like looking at a sturdy tree, one that stood tall and firm despite the fiercest storms or the loudest thunder.

Despite knowing it was close to a pipe dream, the squad leader insisted on learning.

And he nodded, seeming to understand, as if he genuinely got it.

It seemed real. Then again, Encrid was always earnest.

Whether training, swinging his sword, or doing anything else, he gave it his all. That impression was why Ragna was teaching him this technique now.

“I think I understand.”

Encrid spoke, and Ragna nodded, thinking Encrid might have misunderstood.

It was a nod of encouragement.

Ragna knew the limits of talent well. While ordinary geniuses couldn’t see their feet, Ragna had traveled the continent, seen what lay beneath, gone underground, met its inhabitants, conversed, and crossed swords with them.

‘Talent.’

How many had been broken by that single word?

Encrid would be one of them. It was an inevitable outcome.

Yet, Ragna felt inspired watching him not give up. Selfishly, Encrid’s persistence allowed Ragna to continue walking his path.

So, he decided to teach with all his might.

“Forget everything around you, forget yourself, leaving only pure focus. That is *Concentrate One*, *Singular Focus*. When a person’s life is on the line, it’s said their past flashes before their eyes. Keep that in mind; it might help.”

“Is that so? I see.”

Oddly, as soon as Ragna said that, Encrid appeared to be listening half-heartedly.

He wasn’t usually like this.

He wasn’t someone who would give up because it seemed impossible.

Afterward, Ragna tried to bolster his concentration by threatening him with his sword a few times, but Encrid still didn’t manage to enter a focused state.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Despite that, he cheerfully headed out to the battlefield.

Seeing this, Ragna felt a surge of motivation as well.

“Looks like we’re going to have to warm up a bit harder today.”

Normally, he would lazily swing his sword, the epitome of a slacking genius.

Those weren’t words that would usually come from him.

Encrid stared at Ragna in silence.

—

What’s up with him now?

Well, it’s not bad that he wants to fight seriously.

Leaving the motivated Ragna behind, Encrid focused on his task.

Today had begun again. Ragna’s method for training “Singular Focus” was flawed.

No, even if it was correct, the method that genius bastard had figured out in one go didn’t suit him.

So, was his own method correct?

He didn’t know whether this method would work.

Then what should he do?

‘Just have to test it out.’

Encrid moved along a familiar path. He told his allies to get down and raise their shields, adjusted their movements, and then called for Rem.

“Incantation! Who?”

Rem was fuming at the sight of the incantations.

“Follow me!”

Encrid tapped Rem on the shoulder from behind.

“Huh?”

“It’s a charge.”

“What? Squad leader, did you eat something wrong?”

Despite saying that, Rem followed him without hesitation.

It was the same route. This time, even Ragna followed without being called.

“A charge? If you’re breaking the enemy’s vanguard, let me join.”

“What, did you eat something wrong too?”

Rem said, looking at Ragna, who had followed. Ragna ignored him and sprinted ahead.

Though fog surrounded them, there were no major restrictions on their movements.

Rem was like a storm, wielding dual axes and mowing down enemies.

He looked like he could single-handedly cut through eighty infantrymen.

Ragna was like a heavy battering ram. He smashed through the infantry lines and walls with impunity. He wasn’t fast, but there was no mercy in his hands. Whether it was a quarrel or a spearhead from an enemy, he sliced through them all with a single arming sword.

His skills were astonishing.

‘At least elite.’

In the Kingdom of Naurilia, elite referred to soldiers above the advanced level.

Above advanced was top-tier, and beyond that, elite.

‘Or perhaps top-tier.’

Encrid wasn’t yet sure of his own level.

So he couldn’t accurately gauge their levels either. In any case, now wasn’t the time to leisurely observe.

Following the same route, Encrid faced Mitch Hurrier.

“Let’s have a match.”

This time, he spoke first. Mitch’s eyes widened, then he chuckled.

“You madman, you’ve come to die willingly.”

He wasn’t wrong. Even if he managed to kill Mitch, there’d be no way to survive.

But that was fine.

He wasn’t here to die; he was here to give it his all.

“Are you targeting me specifically? Fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Mitch’s bewilderment was evident in his expression.

“Why? Is this your first confession? I came here because I fell for you at first sight.”

Encrid said. Mitch snickered, then narrowed his eyes.

“My unit is the Grey Dogs, relentless lovers. It’s been a while since someone came looking for me before I could find them.”

“Really? Are you upset about that? Want me to hide again so you can come find me?”

“Enough with the nonsense.”

Mitch Hurrier lunged. Encrid steadied his breath, igniting his will to enter a focused state, but failed.

The fight’s outcome was quickly decided.

His opponent was superior to Encrid in every way—skill, mental fortitude, and talent.

He wasn’t someone Encrid could challenge by relying on fundamentals alone.

“What made you think you could take me on? How did you even get this far?”

His lungs and intestines were shredded by Mitch’s blade. It felt like someone had shoved a burning coal into his belly—it hurt like hell.

“I trusted myself. This time, I made a mistake; my mindset was wrong.”

Repeating today didn’t mean he could easily replicate the same experience.

“What?”

“I think I can do it next time.”

Just as he gained insight when he first entered the focused state, he gained a small realization this time as well.

So he decided to try again.

“Even if I let you go, you’re dead. There’s no next time.”

“Isn’t he a madman? Don’t engage with him, Lieutenant.”

*Srring!*

A nearby enemy soldier drew his sword and pressed it against Encrid’s neck.

Without waiting, Encrid twisted his neck, slicing himself on the blade.

*Slash.*

The blade was well-sharpened; a fiery pain accompanied a deep wound on his neck.

Intense pain radiated simultaneously from his stomach and neck due to the violent movement.

Pain that felt like he was dying—or rather, pain that was literally killing him—Encrid endured it and spoke.

“See you again.”

With those final words, he bled out and died.

—

Today began anew.

Encrid sought out Mitch Hurrier again.

“Good to see you, friend.”

“…Did you really come looking for me?”

“Yes, I did. Came to find the lieutenant of the Grey Dogs, the relentless lovers. Let’s have a match.”

“You’re insane.”

They fought again. Encrid realized his mistake.

‘I mustn’t force it.’

If he kept thinking he needed to concentrate, he’d get caught up in that thought. So, what should he do?

Just like the first time.

Dance to the rhythm of the opponent’s sword, match the tempo with his own.

Fight, fight again.

It took eighteen days of repeating the same method.

Only then did Encrid manage to enter the focused state again.

How joyous it was.

Even with one arm severed and lying on the ground, he couldn’t help but smile.

He was so delighted he forgot the pain.

“Smiling?”

Seeing this, Mitch swung his sword down. That was the end of it.

Repeat again.

Continue until success.

Anyone watching might call him tenacious. They might say his perseverance was remarkable.

But for Encrid, it wasn’t about perseverance.

Entering a focused state.

Improving his swordsmanship through repeated combat with a worthy opponent.

He was simply satisfied and enjoyed it.

After twenty-eight repetitions, Encrid grasped the feel of entering the focused state.

Through forty-eight repetitions, he learned to intentionally bring out “Singular Focus.”

And after ninety-four repetitions, he was able to summon it at will.

Complete focus.

That meant total control over his sword and body.

With this mastery, skill and technique came alongside strength. After mastering “Singular Focus,” he resumed learning from Ragna.

“Teach me.”

As he showed his focus immediately after learning again, Ragna frowned.

“What is this?”

“What?”

“It seems like you’ve learned this before, but no, you can’t learn it just by being taught. Are you…a genius?”

A genius? Even with sheer luck and extensive experience, it took over a hundred repetitions to barely grasp it.

Encrid knew he wasn’t talented, but he didn’t dwell on it.

He was simply enjoying the present moment.

And so, repeating today, he said the words that had become a habit.

“I was lucky.”

“Lucky? You think this was luck?”

Ragna was bewildered.

Seeing this, Encrid thought it was time to break free from today.

After selectively learning only the essence of “Singular Focus” and pretending to be a genius, he turned away from Ragna. Ragna called out.

“Where are you going?”

“To meet the company commander.”

Ragna let Encrid go.

It was genuinely fascinating that he had awakened “Singular Focus” in one go.

Was the squad leader really a genius? That didn’t seem right.

Though he had shown “Singular Focus,” it resembled a finely crafted sculpture made after countless blows.

He certainly hadn’t learned it from a single glance.

‘How is that possible?’

Ragna pondered but soon dismissed the thought. No point in dwelling on something that wouldn’t yield an answer.

Leaving it be was the best course.

Seeing a squad leader like that only fueled his own motivation.

Encrid saw the gleam in Ragna’s eyes again today and thought, *Whatever he does, today is a day full of enthusiasm.*

‘Better focus on my own task.’

This wasn’t the time to worry about Ragna.

No matter what they did, their forces were going to suffer near-total annihilation in this battle. To avoid that, two things were necessary.

One was to clear the fog of massacre.

The other was for their allies to take cover while the fog dissipated.

He couldn’t do both simultaneously.

Encrid had only one body.

Breaking the banner was another problem. Even after launching a surprise attack, he’d have to find a way out of the enemy’s heart.

Encrid didn’t intend to be trapped in today. Thus, he had to dismantle and destroy the enemy’s strategy.

“I’d like to meet with the company commander.”

Encrid approached the leader of the 4th platoon.

“…Now?”

The atmosphere among the troops was tense, as they could sense the approaching battle.

In such a situation, asking to see the company commander must have seemed absurd.

The platoon leader was resting, leaning his spear against the wall of the barracks.

He was lying on his field bed, boots on, when he raised himself up.

“Yes, now.”

“Why?”

“There’s something I remembered from the last reconnaissance mission.”

The 4th platoon leader scrutinized Encrid before nodding and getting up.

A cracking sound came from his knees as he stood. He stretched and asked.

“What is it?”

“I think the Duchy of Azpen has hidden a spell.”

“A spell?”

“Yes.”

The platoon leader hesitated, wondering if this was true. Then, thinking Encrid wasn’t someone to spout nonsense, he quickly moved.

If there’s something to say, it should be said.

The company commander would make the judgment.

Soon, they reached the company commander’s tent and were allowed in.

“You asked to see me?”

The company commander, nicknamed the Green-eyed Fairy, asked.

The inside of the tent was cozy. Looking at the short torch burning, Encrid nodded.

“Yes.”

“For what reason?”

If it wasn’t important, he seemed ready to scold. The fairy’s tone was cold.

“A spell.”

Encrid spoke without dragging it out.

“A spell?”

“Yes, a banner, a flag, and a person seen in the enemy camp—a spellcaster.”

Thanks to the repeated days, his memory was fuzzy but not forgotten. He relayed what he had seen, embellishing it just enough to persuade.

If that wasn’t convincing enough, there was nothing he could do.

‘I’d just have to try again.’

Such was the privilege of someone who could repeat today.

Fortunately, the Green-eyed Fairy listened attentively.

“More details.”

“Of course.”

He mentioned hearing the enemy shout for a spellcaster.

The fairy’s eyes sparkled.

He didn’t mention the fog appearing; that would be too much.

Spells are not to be shared indiscriminately.

Recognizing it instantly didn’t make sense.

This was as far as he could go; the rest was up to the company commander’s judgment.

Encrid returned to his position after delivering his message.

He was at the front of the battlefield.

Now, it was time to go beyond Mitch Hurrier and break the banner.

‘This is as far as I can go.’

The rest was up to the commanders.

“Hoo.”

It was time to surpass the self trapped in today.