312 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 312. What is a wall? "We took the wrong path." In a world of his own imagination, Encried scratched his ears. Did I hear wrong? "Face the wall." The boatman continued. Despite the initial doubt, the clarity of the words was unmistakable. Face the wall. Look at it properly. What is a wall? It is the number of those who stand in your way. The quality of their forces. Swordsmen from the Hurrier family, mercenaries, Grey Dogs, wizards, shamans. The terrain itself. This was the answer Encried had arrived at through much contemplation. 'Strengthen your might to break through.' Yet, obstacles always awaited him. Just when he thought he had narrowly escaped. "Grey Dogs never miss their target." More tenacious than Rem, some would stand in his path. They would charge, even at the cost of their own heads. The appearance of the Grey Dogs, persistent admirers. Once he overcame them, they too became part of today's encounter. Initially, it was the mercenary Cent and three from the Hurrier family, followed by a wizard, then a shaman, and by overcoming all that, he faced the Grey Dogs. Meanwhile, the common soldiers kept coming, again and again. Despite repeating what he had experienced, each day was different. The order changed, and so did the way they fought. Encried wasn't well-versed in military tactics. But one thing was certain. 'I feel like I stumbled upon something.' So, what was to be done? What was needed to escape from here? He still thought the answer was strength. Some days, he didn’t encounter the Grey Dogs, sometimes he bypassed the shamans or wizards. And on certain days, he didn't even see Cent. By now, meeting them felt almost like a reunion. Naturally, days where he met them were more frequent. "Oh, it’s Cent, good to see you." "Do you know me?" The Valensian mercenary sword, acting as if they were acquaintances. A good friend for honing skills against phantom swords. Piercing Cent’s throat with a spark, breaking through the human barricades blocking all around. And dying again. Starting the day anew. Climbing down a cliff, hoping to find a way out, only to die. Throwing himself into a valley stream, harshly dealt with by a wizard. By then, Encried thought there were five major walls. The mercenary Cent and his group. Three swordsmen from the Hurrier family, whose names he now knew. Roach, Merior, and Reblanc. The four wizards summoned water spirits or shot water cannons. The water whip was especially dangerous. If it caught a limb, it would slice through any armor without effort, leaving the users panting after use. He witnessed them grow pale a few times. There was also a shaman. Primarily using a spell called 'Invisible Force,' they weren't too difficult to handle. Being invisible didn’t mean being undetectable by presence, so dodging by intuition was possible. However, their methods were annoying. Suddenly making the ground beneath your feet feel sticky, as if coated with glue, among other nuisances. Moreover, the shaman was always accompanied by a large force of heavily armored infantry, making them quite troublesome. Finally, the Grey Dogs. Purely in terms of combat strength, the Grey Dogs seemed the weakest. But in terms of relentlessness, they were unmatched. Measured in persistence and tenacity, they deserved a double thumbs-up. They were the ones encountered every day. Thus, there were five walls. Mercenaries, Hurrier, Wizards, Shamans, Grey Dogs. If he could break through all five simultaneously. It was impossible. No matter how it was attempted, it was impractical. Archers, crossbowmen, spearmen, heavily armored infantry were mixed in. There were even a few elven soldiers with excellent archery, and beastmen with unpredictable movements. It was fortunate there were no Froks, dragon men, or giants. Should it be considered six walls including them? Including their forces? 'Not good.' Despite the different inner whispers, Encried still found enjoyment in it all. As he repeated today, he made full use of the time granted to him. He struggled and struggled more. Utilizing everything he gained through that struggle. Under a warm winter sun, he had done everything possible. It wasn't good. ‘The experience of slaughter.’ The experience of killing and being killed became all too familiar. Killing until the scent of blood numbed his sense of smell. But there was no visible path out of today. So the boatman's words naturally struck deep. He faced the five or six walls. And did anything change? Nothing. As dreams arose amidst the repeating days, the boatman spoke again. "If you do not know, you cannot surpass it. There is only one wall." Encried took these words to heart. Several of 'today' passed. Listening closely didn’t bring instant change. He continued to ponder. Eventually meeting the boatman again. “Hey, aren’t you tired of this?” This time, the boatman made a casual remark. "Rather than tired, it seems difficult." That’s why it wasn’t tiresome. Was an opaque future enveloping his mind? If it was to collapse at such a point, he wouldn't have dreamed at all. Encried racked his brain continuously. What is a wall? Coming back to the origin point. “How much should I tell you, how much should I do for you to understand?” The boatman turned to him with sarcasm. Surprised by such detectable emotion, Encried asked. "Are you being sarcastic?" In case he had misunderstood. “Do I need to say it for you to know?” The boatman immediately showed distaste with an emotionless expression. Understanding his distaste was because the boatman conveyed it. As time with the boatman increased because of being stuck, Encried took the chance to satisfy his curiosity. “Why a rowboat?” Wouldn't a sentinel dragging hellhounds suit him more? Why a river, why a rowboat, why a boatman? “Because a boat goes anywhere.” “What do you mean?” “I wasn’t explaining for you to understand.” Repeated meetings brought insights. Encried perceived the boatman as having multiple personalities. His demeanor unpredictably changed. “Show no curiosity,” the boatman advised. On days when everything feels heavy. "I call you a bastard." There’s a way he flutters his words. "Did you face the wall?" He always talked about the wall, regardless of the topic. "You sure have a lot of questions." There was at least one kind boatman who would say something. When asked about his usual activities, that kind boatman responded. "I steer the boat." Although he spoke, he never gave understandable answers. "I see." "You will also steer a boat." The boatman stated, and Encried left it at that. Beyond three hundred repetitions of today, Encried felt the limits of his skills. 'It's difficult to improve further.' He felt the same when facing a stab-obsessed foe. In certain moments, there were limits to what could be gained. Without facing tomorrow, nothing changes. Thus, he had to overcome the wall known as today. 'Five or six walls.' No, one wall. Merge the five into one? Gather them in one place and face them? He acted as thoughts and instincts guided him. He arduously herded the five groups into a fight. And died. The four wizards and the shaman worked well together. Though they seemed unfamiliar with each other, they quickly synchronized. Cent’s specialty was reconfirmed. His skill lay in attacking from behind rather than direct confrontation. Although their frequent encounters forced a face-to-face confrontation. In hindsight, Encried would always discover him first due to his instincts. 'He was always aiming for my back.' He hadn’t realized. It was over three hundred encounters before he understood. In any case, it wasn’t the answer. Next, he kidnapped an enemy soldier. Typically, ten soldiers moved as a unit, but those on personal errands moved in groups of three. "I’m going to take a leak." Upon waking, he hid and waited, reaping the rewards. "Go in threes." Following the squad leader's command, Encried merged with them. Among the three, he snapped the neck of one while creating holes in the other's necks with sparks. Encried hid the deceased in the bushes, then stripped one of them. Changing clothes was more work than killing. After draping the soldier's clothes over himself. Encried exercised his wits. "Ambush!" He shouted and then headed toward a different unit, not his original one. What if he managed to escape this way? Would returning today be judged as avoidance? Would he truly need to overcome those five walls? But the boatman claimed there was only one wall. He said if you don't know, you can't get over it. 'What am I unaware of?’ He didn’t know that either. As enjoyment faded, despair didn't take hold. Encried sought ways tirelessly. Wandering and digging relentlessly was a specialty of his. "Did you shout that?" In a moment of encounter with a different unit. The enemy soldiers didn’t let their guard down. Why? They wear the same uniform. Could it be that every soldier knows each other’s face here? No, that wasn’t it. "Withered flower." There was a code. Could it be discovered after repeating a few more days? Regardless, he was discovered. Time to struggle once more. A frenzy of battle followed. On the next day, he once again stole the enemy's attire, this time asking first. "Wilted flower." "An enemy!" Immediately, the response was shouted. What had he done wrong? Encried didn’t perceive any difference. The reality was straightforward. Abnai did not underestimate Encried. Repeatedly examining him. Studying the man called Encried. And what they gathered. "Skilled in cunning. Capable of deception, a natural strategist." They prepared for the possibility of him tricking his way out. The code's essence wasn't merely saying "withered flower," but performing a synchronized gesture with the words. The gesture, combined with the words, would identify unit affiliation, providing the response. Not complex, but unknowable if unaware. Abnai was thorough. They prevented Encried from escaping by eavesdropping on the code. They familiarized close units with each other’s faces. Added uniform variations for confirmation. Even with repeated days, such things were undiscernible. Advertisements Above all, Encried soon realized through trial and error. His instincts told him this wasn't the way. 'A bit complicated.' Encried composed himself calmly. 'What am I missing?' Pondering, replaying. Never forgetting his specialty, repeating the process. Reflecting on what the boatman said. Through thoroughly repeated days and experienced deaths, Encried could finally understand. 'The wall is one.' What is a wall? Something to be overcome. 'The wall is one.' After chanting it numerous times, he understood the boatman's words. "I see." "What?" A realization dawned on him before Cent. The mercenary widened his eyes in surprise. What would that accomplish? Encried swung his sworded hand, striking Cent’s jaw. Crunch! The jaw shattered, teeth scattering into the air. He swiftly severed the foe’s neck with a gladius. Slash! The severed head hit the ground. "Kill him!" And the battle resumed. Ducking the enemy repeatedly, grasping breaths before approaching death. Mastering the long battle art was something he had by now. Every pause, he gathered his thoughts. Encried needed to know the method to advance. 'If you don’t know, you can’t surpass it.' Of course. One had to grasp the method, not the wall itself. It wasn't five walls. 'Strategy.' Or tactics, a wall better described as warfare strategy. To escape the trap set by the enemy commander. 'How?' He's no Kreiss. Then what should he do? Encried searched his memory. There was a similar conversation he once had with Kreiss. As that conversation resurfaced, so did the method. Advertisements While the road ahead remained long, he saw how to find the path. "In my view, there are two types of thinkers. One type predicts and prepares for everything, while the other acts based on intuition and instinct in the moment. Both have to be smart, though." Kreiss then added, "The captain leans towards the latter. Far from the former." He didn't ask why. But. Encried reflected on every single one of the more than three hundred days. Moments he had to brush past due to fierce battles overlapped in his mind. Elements that squeezed through the cracks of his senses, sounding alarms. Why did he pass them by, why did he ignore them, why did he have to? 'Because I needed to overcome the wall in front of me.' His vision didn't narrow. This was different from before. He simply couldn't get over it because the wall was unseen. Once visible, Encried understood what he needed to do. 'Minimal combat, a fight to survive.' Instead of struggling, he had to surpass the enemy's tactics using intuition, instincts, and a sixth sense. That was the path. 'If I don't have to fight them all.' Things that Abnai could never have known. And where he misstepped. One was that Encried was repeating today. Another was that Encried’s mind was sharper than expected. "Ah." Precisely on the three hundred seventy-eighth repetition. Encried found the way.