Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 87: The Law of Killing Those Who Must Be Killed

“It’s about reading your opponent and responding accordingly.”

He learned this while getting beaten by Rem.
He learned it while listening to Jaxson explain the Gate of Sixth Sense.
He wrung out every ounce of strength practicing isolation techniques with Audin.
And he remained faithful to his swordsmanship lessons under Ragna.

His skills gradually improved, but consistency was what truly defined his progress.

“Doesn’t this frustrate you?”

Ragna would sometimes ask Encrid this question.

Frustration? There was no reason to feel that.

Ragna’s teaching wasn’t just about mastering the basics—it was a path forward, a guiding milestone.
How many days had he spent wandering aimlessly, unsure of the way forward?

Now, the moment he took a step, new paths opened before him. And that was thrilling.

How should you react when an opponent’s sword comes down on you?
What if you’re up against a beast?
What if someone thrusts a spear at you from behind?
When should you extend your sword in any given situation?

Once you’ve mastered the basics, the next step is learning how to apply them.

You can’t prepare for every scenario. The key is learning to adapt on the spot.

Of course, that was never easy.

“I thought we’d wrap this up sooner,” Ragna once said.

But that was wishful thinking. Encrid knew that his talent was mediocre.

If he had been born with even decent talent, would things have been this difficult? Probably not.

Still, he held no resentment. Instead of wasting time complaining, he’d rather swing his sword one more time.

“Applied swordsmanship only holds meaning if you read and respond to your opponent,” Ragna had told him.

Whether it was a beast, a monster, or an enemy soldier, it was all about discerning truth from deception in their movements—and then cutting or stabbing accordingly.

Ragna never tired of teaching.

Encrid never tired of learning, though progress remained painfully slow.

He knew he was slow and lacking. He also knew that he had to put in several times more effort than others.

Because of that, he used everything—every situation, environment, and fleeting moment—as a tool for growth.

And so, Encrid pressed on.

He ventured deeper into the tunnel, and soon, four wolf-like beasts leapt out.

*Growl!*

They barked like dogs and pounced without giving him a moment to breathe.

The beasts kicked up dirt with explosive energy as they charged, making even the most seasoned soldier’s knees weak at the sight.

Their eyes burned with wild ferocity. Their tongues lolled from between their jaws, drooling thick saliva. Their yellowed fangs gleamed red under the torchlight.

‘Heart of the Beast.’

That boldness kept him steady. Even with death just inches away, he could keep from blinking, from flinching.

It was no different now.

Encrid remained calm.

In the time it took to draw a breath, the beasts had closed the gap, just a few steps away.

Encrid combined his swordsmanship with instinctive reflexes.

It was a reaction born of fearlessness—and he believed that even this encounter would serve as a stepping stone for his growth.

‘Nothing trains you better than a real fight.’

The only downside was that every battle demanded his life.

He couldn’t afford to waste today.

If all he wanted was to live out his days with nothing but survival in mind, he would have farmed fields and prayed for divine blessings, not pursued dreams with a sword in hand.

He cherished each day, yet he had no choice but to risk his life to move forward.

Because this was the only way for Encrid to keep chasing his dreams.

He fought not to die—but to live.

Following his instincts.

Acting without hesitation.

*Snap!*

The clattering of the beast’s fangs sounded right in front of him.

Encrid stepped back with his left foot, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws, and brought his sword down from above with a swift motion of his elbow.

*Smack! Clang!*

He didn’t cut with the edge of the blade but struck with the flat side. The wolf beast’s skull took the full brunt of the blow, and the creature crumpled to the ground.

Encrid followed through with the swing, taking a step to the left.

The torch he had tossed earlier still burned, providing him with enough light.

As the wolf lunged again, Encrid shifted his body to the side, dodging its front paw.

*Whoosh!*

A heavy strike passed right through the spot where his abdomen had just been. If he had been hit, even his gambeson would have been shredded to rags.

Beasts like these were monsters with the traits of wild animals.

Two of the beasts tried to circle behind him.

Thinking they had an opening, they bared their dagger-like fangs—short, sharp, and clustered like rows of tiny knives—and lunged at his thighs.

*Screeeech!*

A strange noise echoed through the dim tunnel, illuminated by only one torch.

It all happened in an instant.

Encrid spun his body, flicking his hand—and with a sharp *thunk*, a throwing knife embedded itself in the forehead of one of the charging beasts.

The blade flew with the speed of a shooting star.

The other beast was already upon him, but Encrid twisted his body, raising his knee to dodge and strike at the same time.

*Thump!*

The blow wasn’t powerful enough to force the beast back.

Instead, the creature pressed down on Encrid’s foot with its front paw, showing off its muscular legs.

Encrid quickly pulled his raised knee back and took a half-step away, dodging the paw aimed at his foot.

Now, he stood between two beasts, one in front and one behind.

He was effectively surrounded.

But even in the midst of danger, Encrid’s gaze wasn’t fixed on the two beasts.

He focused. Deeper and deeper.

Time didn’t slow down like before. He wasn’t seeing just points and lines.

Instead, the beasts’ movements were perfectly clear to him.

He could predict their next steps in his mind before they happened.

And with the beasts’ next moves already in sight, Encrid’s actions became simple.

There was no need for complicated tricks or feints.

He let the sword hang loosely, then swung it wide.

There wasn’t enough room to swing side to side, but the height of the tunnel allowed him to carve a large arc vertically.

What was the essence of the heavy sword technique?

He recalled what he had learned—it was a sword meant to shatter with a single strike.

*Howl!*

The two beasts lunged at him simultaneously.

Encrid executed the movements he had already visualized.

*Whoomph! Crack! Splatter!*

The longsword, swung with all his strength, did its job.

One beast was split from its chest to its jaw and head.
The other’s head burst open from the downward blow.

If his timing had been even slightly off, he would’ve been bitten by one of them.

This strike was sheer power combined with precise execution.

“Phew.”

Exhaling the breath he had been holding, Encrid calmed his pounding heart.

‘One left.’

With only one beast remaining, Encrid advanced, leaping toward it.

Oddly enough, he didn’t charge head-on but ran to the left.

The beast followed without even realizing it was being lured.

‘Pivot on the left foot.’

In a state of perfect focus—where instinct, experience, and training merged—his body acted on its own.

He planted his left foot firmly on the ground and thrust his sword.

The blade pierced straight through the wolf’s open mouth and out the back of its skull.

*Shlunk!*

The wolf’s weight sagged onto his arms.

Encrid relaxed, letting the beast drop heavily to the ground.

He stomped on the wolf’s head, pulling the sword free with a wet *squelch*.

Blood poured from the gaping wound, and the beast’s body twitched as life left it.

*Whimper.*

The last breath of the final beast faded away into nothingness.

With his arms hanging at his sides, Encrid reflected on what he had just done.

‘It’s clear now.’

The beasts’ movements were simple—driven by instinct.

And that made them easy to detect with his sharpened senses—concentrated focus combined with the Gate of Sixth Sense.

The combination had yielded this string of precise strikes.

‘I can do it.’

Now, he felt ready to show Ragna what applied swordsmanship truly looked like.

Reading the opponent’s intentions and movements.
Then, all that remained was to cut them down with the sword he had trained so hard to master.

Deception worked the same way.

“It’s something you already know how to do. You just need to ingrain it into your body.”

Ragna’s words resurfaced in his mind.

Yes, he had always known how.

But knowing and doing were as different as a housecat and a tiger.

Encrid clenched and unclenched his fist, repeating the actions in his mind.

Even as he pressed forward, torch in hand, he continued to visualize his swordplay.

For some, mastering a move in one go came naturally.

For Encrid, it took countless repetitions.

Everything was part of his training.

After that encounter, he saw no more beasts or monsters.

Instead, he found a passage connected to the sewers at the end of the tunnel.

And that’s when he noticed something else.

‘What kind of madman…?’

Someone had dug this entire tunnel.

Why?

Spell traps were expensive. They weren’t just some cheap mouse traps.

What kind of purpose did someone have, blocking all six paths with such costly traps?

Even the wealthiest merchants in Crona wouldn’t do something so absurd.

And on top of that, they had stationed ghouls and beasts here.

Why had this place been so heavily guarded? What exactly was waiting beyond all of this?

Encrid began to uncover part of the answer.

“You lunatic.”

The words escaped his lips.

He followed the foul-smelling sewer until he reached his destination.

In the torchlight, he saw things hanging like laundry all around him.

Nails had been driven into the walls, ropes woven through them to hang the objects.

But these were no clothes. They were body parts—the places where clothes should have been.

It was a grotesque scene of horror: human intestines, flesh, and bones displayed in ways words couldn’t capture.

Even Encrid, who had lived through countless horrors, felt bile rise in his throat at the sight.

‘This madman.’

Whoever did this had to die.

This was someone who deserved death. And wasn’t it the duty of a knight to kill such a person?

He knew that dreaming alone wouldn’t make him a knight.

But he couldn’t just turn away from this.

Here and there, he noticed bodies—some still intact, resembling human forms.

One of them seemed to be alive.

Its eyes blinked a few times before its lips parted.

“Grrk…”

It tried to speak.

Of course, it couldn’t. How could someone who was just a severed head speak?

The mere fact that it was conscious enough to blink and try to talk was grotesque.

“Grrk, grrk…”

What was it trying to say?

It was impossible to guess.

If Encrid were in its place, he would have begged for death.

How it moved or functioned was beyond comprehension.

He didn’t know how they had threaded that rope through its skull—and frankly, he didn’t want to know.

Even after all he had seen, this abomination disgusted him.

“What the hell are you?”

It was then that he heard a voice. Encrid turned toward the sound.

At the far end of the corridor, beyond the bodies arranged like decorations, he spotted a figure—a man standing in a dark corner of the sewer.

The man had a pale, ghostly complexion, with long hair draped over a drab green robe.

A young man with a face as lifeless as his surroundings.

Encrid spoke.

“This is your work, isn’t it?”

The young man hesitated for a moment, as if lost in thought, then began mumbling to himself.

“How did you get here? Could it be that the gods love me? Tossing test subjects my way without me lifting a finger… Let’s see. You look like a soldier—well-trained, too. Oh, excellent. Wonderful.”

The young man’s voice was light and cheerful, like a blacksmith marveling at high-quality steel.

Or like a merchant sealing a profitable deal.

In another way, he sounded like a young man confessing his innocent dreams.

It was unsettling—and disturbingly so.

“What should I turn you into?”

Encrid raised his torch higher, illuminating what lay behind the man.

A grotesque corpse, pieced together from various bodies, was propped against the wall.

Its eyes were closed, and it showed no signs of breathing. From what Encrid could tell, it was a lifeless body.

“Isn’t it beautiful? It will be my greatest masterpiece. Its name is Varmillo.”

Encrid reached a conclusion.

There was no need to speak further.

This man was completely insane.

Without hesitation, Encrid threw his torch.

*Whoosh!*

The torch spun through the air in a wide arc, aimed directly at the madman’s head.

*Thud.*

But the lunatic merely raised a hand and swatted the torch aside.

He was a mage.

So what?

Did that mean Encrid should stop?

No. Someone who deserved death had to die.

Even though the torch was effortlessly deflected, Encrid didn’t falter.

He launched himself forward, keeping low to the ground.

His body skimmed over the thick muck of the sewer floor as he charged toward the mage.

*Kersplash!*

He kicked up filth as he propelled himself, closing the gap between them in an instant.

With the momentum of his sprint, he swung his sword upward from below. The diagonal slash cut through the darkness where the torchlight had disappeared.

—

Esther often stuck close to Encrid at night, though she sometimes wandered nearby when he was in the city.

Of course, there were days when she didn’t.

‘Sticking to him at night is enough.’

There was no need to stay by his side constantly.

On most days, she would have simply lounged around the barracks.

But today was different.

*Grrrowl.*

See you later.

She had been quietly watching him leave when he flicked her nose with his finger.

*Flick!*

*Hiss!*

That bastard…

“I’m off.”

And with that, he was gone.

Annoyed and curious, Esther decided to follow him.

‘What’s he up to, flicking my nose like that?’

It was pure curiosity that spurred her into action.

What Encrid had done was different from what he usually did. This wasn’t part of yesterday’s today.

*Taptap.*

The black panther moved swiftly through the narrow alleyways, leaping from one roof to another without making a sound.

Her steps were light and silent, invisible to any passing eyes.

That was how Esther followed Encrid, trailing him down into the underground.

‘What sort of mess is he getting into this time?’

Her curiosity led her deeper.

When she caught the scent of foul magic, she realized what was happening.

‘If this goes badly…’

The human she had chosen might die.

That would be inconvenient—she still had use for him.

She had to step in.

Navigating through spell traps was no challenge for Esther.

Once, she had sung to the stars and held them within her grasp.

These crude traps were nothing to her.

She watched as Encrid fought the ghouls.

‘Has he improved?’

She didn’t know much about swordsmanship. But having watched Encrid train day in and day out, she could see it.

‘Yes, he’s grown.’

Then, when he killed the wolf beasts, even Esther found it strange.

‘What is this?’

The way Encrid moved—it was as if he were possessed.

With her sharp eyes, piercing through the darkness, she saw his every motion.

Swinging, slashing, stabbing. Kicking with his feet and knees.

At first, it looked like chaos, but not a single critical blow landed on him.

All he suffered were a few scratches, and even those only marred his armor.

‘How did he come out of that unscathed?’

Had the beasts gone soft? That didn’t seem right.

If Esther had been at full strength, these beasts and monsters wouldn’t have even dared to lift their heads in her presence.

‘But he keeps going?’

Even though he could have turned back by now, Encrid pressed forward.

Eventually, Esther saw the scene of carnage he had stumbled upon.

She wasn’t shocked—she had encountered plenty of deranged mages in her time.

And now, she knew there was a mage waiting beyond this horror.

‘What should I do?’

Should she help Encrid fight the mage?

If she did, it would drain the small amount of power she had managed to gather.

That would set back her plans to reclaim her original body.

She had already woven protective magic into Encrid’s armor, but still…

‘What a nuisance.’

For now, she decided to stay hidden and follow closely behind.

She watched as Encrid confronted the mage.

He exchanged only a few words before launching his attack.

And then, Esther was astonished—again and again.

What she witnessed filled the eyes of the panther cloaked in shadows.

This man, Encrid, was performing feats that defied belief.