Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 5: Valen-Style Swordsmanship

“Uh? Huh? How did you know?”

“I’m not a prophet.”

In response to Encrid’s words, Rem shook out a bug from his boot onto the ground and spoke with a tone of certainty.

“Did you put it there, Squad Leader?”

“I didn’t put it there.”

“Tch.”

Rem still looked at Encrid with suspicion.

Encrid didn’t care about Rem’s suspicious gaze. That wasn’t important.

He stepped on the bug Rem had dropped.

Squish.

A not-so-pleasant sensation traveled up the sole of his boot.

“Ptooey.”

Encrid spat and mixed the bug’s remains with the dirt on the ground before speaking again.

“Can you teach me the Heart of the Beast?”

“Hmm? You remembered that?”

Rem stood up, adjusting his boots.

“Not something I could forget.”

“Yet you tried to drown your memory with alcohol.”

Back then, he kept dreaming about getting his neck chopped off by an axe, so life felt unbearable.

“Can you teach me or not?”

“You seem unusually eager today. Alright, let’s do it.”

Rem nodded.

“Jaxson, could you take morning duty today? I’ll cover it tomorrow.”

Since they needed strength from eating, there was no point wasting time on chores like washing dishes.

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

Jaxson was a squad member who smiled often and got along well with others.

So well that it was hard to believe he was in this place.

When Encrid first saw him, he thought Jaxson was there to mediate.

Jaxson shook his auburn hair and walked out of the tent.

Rem, watching him leave, snorted.

“That guy always puts me in a bad mood.”

If Jaxson had been an effective mediator, Encrid might never have ended up here.

While Jaxson got along well with other units, he wasn’t on good terms with the members of the 4th Squad.

Except for Encrid.

Somehow, Encrid earned his squad members’ trust.

Maybe because he silently fulfilled their requests, or maybe because he seemed destined to remain a mere squad leader forever. Encrid wasn’t sure.

It could be one of those reasons.

Rem began walking out of the tent, and Encrid followed.

“That guy gives me the creeps. I’d suggest you keep your distance.”

And what about you?

Encrid only asked this in his mind.

Could a guy who got into a fight with his superior and shattered his jaw say such things?

For Encrid, Rem was a savior.

But to others, especially those from the 1st Platoon, Rem was someone to glare at with the intent to kill.

After all, he had done that to their platoon leader’s jaw.

Encrid didn’t argue.

Nothing would change from arguing.

It would be a waste of time. Instead, he could spend that time learning the Heart of the Beast.

Encrid had many tasks beyond just learning from Rem.

“Especially since he’s close with those 1st Platoon guys, it’s even more unsettling.”

Fine, whatever.

When Encrid didn’t respond, Rem stopped walking.

“Why?”

“Squad Leader, you’re acting strange today. Normally, you’d have something to say by now.”

He was right. Normally, Encrid would point out that Rem wasn’t one to talk, given his history of breaking a superior’s jaw.

Or he would suggest that if they couldn’t get along, they should at least avoid each other.

Encrid believed it was better to keep people apart rather than force them to get along.

That was his secret to leading the eccentric 4th Squad of the 4th Company, 4th Battalion, 4th Regiment.

“I have nothing to say.”

Encrid cut him off.

Rem scratched the back of his head.

“Today is really strange.”

After breakfast, they found an open space outside the barracks.

It might seem odd to train in a battlefield, but this was routine for Encrid.

Those who knew him weren’t surprised.

Passersby barely gave them a glance.

Thus, the Heart of the Beast training resumed.

“Have you been secretly learning from someone else? I don’t think so.”

“I’ve just been repeating what I learned.”

“Just training got you this far?”

Another death was another experience.

It made it easier for Encrid to focus.

Rem looked puzzled but then said, “Good, let’s continue.”

“I think you have talent, Squad Leader. Doing this well.”

Rem repeated what he had said yesterday.

Talent, huh? That would be nice.

A moment ago, he failed to dodge Rem’s axe again.

The axe stopped just before his throat.

A slight flick of Rem’s wrist could have left a long scar on his neck.

“That was close.”

Rem smirked.

He seemed pleased with how Encrid was learning.

Encrid sensed Rem’s satisfaction.

“How can you swing your axe like that?”

A moment ago, Rem’s axe was faster than any stab that had killed him before.

The axe blade came so close to his skin that it was almost impossible to perceive.

“Talent?”

Encrid thought Rem was an irritating bastard for the first time in a while.

But that was just how he was.

“If everyone could get better through training, no one would suck at using a sword.”

Rem chuckled.

Just as he had sensed Rem’s satisfaction, Encrid also noticed that Rem enjoyed teasing him.

He was a strange guy.

Then again, who in this squad wasn’t strange?

“What if I train more? Work harder? Swing my sword without sleep?”

Encrid reflexively asked.

It was a dilemma he had pondered for a long time.

If he had no talent, should he give up?

Encrid didn’t give up.

If he chose advancement over giving up, what did he have left?

All he had was the determination to keep moving without rest.

While geniuses might take ten steps, he resolved to take even a quarter-step steadily.

“Really strange today. Did you have a sudden surge of seriousness?”

Rem hung his axe on a string at his waist.

“No.”

“Squad Leader.”

Rem’s laughter faded as he called Encrid.

They locked eyes.

After a brief silence, Rem spoke.

“If you don’t sleep, you’ll die.”

Twitch.

Rem’s cheeks twitched as he tried to hold back laughter, then burst out laughing.

That was his answer to Encrid’s question about swinging the sword without sleep.

“Get lost.”

Encrid gave him the universal hand gesture for an insult.

Middle finger raised.

Rem laughed and suggested they grab lunch.

Encrid didn’t beg him to teach more.

One can’t be satisfied with the first bite.

Encrid knew that all too well.

After lunch, he checked his swordsmanship.

Basic thrusts, slashes, and swings.

Beyond the basics, he had learned the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

It wasn’t shabby.

He had spent a lot of time and money on it.

Not something you could learn for a few silver coins.

Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

It wasn’t quite knight-level, but it was well-known in the mercenary world.

It was classified under the illusion sword (幻劍) style.

Encrid didn’t know exactly how Valen had used it.

But he had learned a few techniques and ingrained them in his body.

Encrid focused on that.

‘Even though the same day repeats after death, what remains with my body doesn’t disappear.’

The Heart of the Beast was learned with his body, not his mind.

That meant what was left in his body stayed the same.

He pushed his body to the limit. His callused hands bled as he swung his sword relentlessly.

Soldiers typically didn’t use swords; spears were the standard.

Being the leader of the 4th Squad granted him a special privilege.

Encrid didn’t want to let go of his sword.

He kept training. Despite the pain in his hands, he endured.

Even though his stomach churned, he pressed on.

He focused all his senses on his fingertips.

The illusion sword was a deceptive sword.

They said to use whatever means to deceive the opponent.

Some Valen-style sword techniques had already spread in the mercenary world.

For example, a technique where you pretend to fall and then stab the opponent.

One couldn’t call it dishonorable.

What’s dishonorable about doing anything to survive?

If someone claimed knights didn’t fight that way, Encrid wouldn’t argue.

They had their values.

He had his.

Half a day passed.

His legs didn’t tremble. If they had, all the daily stamina training would’ve been pointless.

Encrid’s legs were strong.

“A sturdy body is a real asset.”

Rem spoke to Encrid as he returned.

A messenger had just left.

On the sixth repeat of today, Encrid could guess the time by looking at the sky.

“A body trained for over 20 years.”

Encrid gave a vague reply and moved back to his squad.

“Don’t let your sturdy body become a mere training dummy. Keep working hard.”

Just before the battle began, Rem chuckled again.

“You have duty tomorrow.”

Jaxson spoke beside him.

One seemed to be teasing him.

The other seemed to be declaring he wouldn’t do meal duty two days in a row.

No matter the expression, both seemed to wish for his survival.

“See you later.”

The sixth repeat of today began.

Encrid killed the enemy more easily than the fifth day.

The first enemy he faced, he tripped and struck with the edge of his shield.

The second, he feinted and stabbed.

Valen-style swordsmanship.

Not the commonly known techniques, but those he had specifically sought out and learned.

The swaying sword tip itself was like a mirage to distract the opponent’s view.

He executed what he learned, and it worked.

He felt accomplished.

The joy of growth, the sense of fulfillment filled his chest again.

What he achieved through repeated days was significant.

Encrid didn’t spend his repeating days carelessly.

Quite the opposite.

He fought fiercely. He immersed himself completely.

With a longing and desire to seize any opportunity that came his way.

That’s how Encrid lived.

He cut down, struck, and felled the enemy soldiers.

Repeated battles gave him new experiences.

‘Heart of the Beast.’

He began to see things he couldn’t see the previous day.

He reached the point where Vel was falling.

Fighting in the same place every day, he saw Vel every time.

He couldn’t just move the frontline back or relocate.

Recklessly crossing the frontlines was suicide. Changing positions arbitrarily on the battlefield was not an option.

‘I’m not skilled enough for that.’

Encrid knew himself well.

He had gained some confidence, but not enough to charge through enemy lines or take gambles.

Nor could he predict and dodge arrows from skilled archers.

Thud!

Vel’s head exploded again.

“Damn it.”

He failed to save him again.

Encrid quickly ducked his head.

As if on cue, an arrow whizzed past, making a whooshing sound near his ear.

His movement seemed like a skilled reaction.

“You seem to be in good shape today.”

Rem appeared beside him.

“Go on, take out the bastard who shot the arrow.”

“I was planning to. Stay alive.”

Rem left.

Encrid faced another enemy specializing in thrusts.

He failed again.

He avoided a club-wielding soldier charging from behind but got hit by a throwing axe from another.

It was a mess.

The seventh morning dawned.

“I put the bug in.”

When Encrid told Rem.

“Are you crazy? Have you lost it?”

“No. Keeping your mind steady in such situations is the Heart of the Beast, right?”

“Huh?”

“Teach me.”

The day began again.

Rem blinked and then agreed.

He learned. He practiced. He swung his sword.

This time, he didn’t try to save Vel.

To save him, he needed to read the incoming arrows.

If he couldn’t, he’d have to rely on luck.

How does Rem avoid the arrows?

Encrid pondered as he moved.

He died from another thrust.

“Mercy.”

That damned mercy.

He died. Thus began the eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth… Over a hundred deaths, Encrid repeated the day that began with death.