315 - A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 315 Ah, this is amusing. She had roamed battlefields and heard all manner of curses, from disparaging remarks about her parents to obscenities hard to even bring to mind. But this was the first time she'd encountered a curse quite like this. To call the blood of her people something so disgraceful, it was indeed a first. Above all, Aya was a knight who cherished her own skin. She was proud to be Eastern. "…What?" Aya tilted her head in disbelief. "You smell. Go wash yourself." Ragna was merely putting into practice what he'd learned. Enkrid always excelled at striking an opponent's weak points. If it involved provoking them, Enkrid was arguably unmatched on the continent. Though not a top disciple, Ragna had witnessed and absorbed enough over the years. "Did he just say I smell?" Aya was both a knight and a woman. The words 'smell like feces' were a stream of offensive insults. And the way he uttered them, so unflinchingly, as if stating a fact, with an expressionless face— that irked her even more. "No, there's no smell. It's fragrant. Like flowers." Her squire quickly interjected, but it was too late; the damage was done. Aya's face hardened, her jaw clenched, the muscles in her jaw visibly tensed. "You little runt?" Even in anger, Aya didn’t lose all composure. She had her training to thank for that. She transformed her anger into strength. He’s definitely going down. "I’ll start by cutting out your tongue." Aya drew her sword. Ting. In her hands were two swords, one short and one long. The sword in her left hand was akin to a regular longsword, while the one in her right hand was shorter. "You, I’ll- on second thought, never mind." Her squire, attempting to say something from behind, also drew his weapon. Ssssshhh! Ragna recognized the sound of a sword being drawn, knowing instinctively it was a longsword held by his opponent. At the same time, his eyes scanned Aya’s weapons. From behind, the squire applied subtle pressure, closing the gap, holding his sword out. Ragna found himself flanked. "Did you expect a fair duel? Watch your back, you fool." Aya’s words dripped with vehemence, her anger evident. Ragna heeded her advice. He intended to proceed with caution. The squire shifted his stance. Whish. Moving across the ground, he adjusted his position. Ragna matched his movements, taking several steps. In front was Aya, behind was the squire who had once fled. How should he handle this situation? He was surrounded. Aya initiated the attack. Hoo, she closed the space between them rapidly. A flurry of attacks followed, at breakneck speed. Ragna raised his sword to block her. Clang! Her attack was merely a distraction. The real threat came from behind. The squire's sword descended from above, aiming for the back of his head. Ragna’s honed senses awakened his entire body. He bent his knees and thrust his sword upwards. The heavy sword style relies on power. Naturally, Ragna knew how to properly channel his strength. Even with such short movements, he could create substantial impact. The squire didn’t follow through to the end. He feinted and retreated. Ragna, after thrusting his sword overhead, rolled to the side. From his previous position, Aya’s sword ascended. A terrifyingly swift upward strike. Ping! The sword cut through the air with a chilling sound. It was swift and unyielding. "My name is Aya, the fragrant knight of the Royal Knights." Aya, proclaiming her nickname, charged forward. Ragna once again sensed a slash from behind. Even without seeing, he felt the vibrations in the air and the killer intent. He saw no way to block from either direction. 'Hup.' Ragna swung his sword in a broad arc. If blocking was impossible, parrying would have to suffice. His sword, larger and longer than most, traced a helical path. This strike was faster than usual, cutting through the void between them. Both the squire’s sword and Aya’s sword met its path. Clang! Once again, only Aya made contact. In battle, Ragna’s grasp of the situation was unmatched. 'The back attack is an illusion.' It was almost at the level of having a 'Will.' Though technically just a "squire," the individual was skilled enough to overpower average knight cadets. Their attacks were executed with intent and willpower right up to the moment before contact. Afterward, an illusory blade would strike. Detecting and evading it was impossible. Distinguishing between reality and illusion was arduous. If he showed any lapse in attention, it would result in genuine harm. Though an illusion, a real blade lay in wait behind it, ready to cut flesh and bone. Aya’s swordplay was dazzling, focused on speed, yet it carried weight. It rested somewhere between heavy and swift sword styles. It was evident she had been trained properly. Her techniques appeared to adhere to a traditional swordsmanship lineage. Most importantly, their teamwork was impeccable. This was a crisis. An immense crisis, a wrong step could lead to a swift demise. And yet, facing such a crisis, Ragna was elated. Listening to the voice within, had he not awaited moments like these? The current situation delighted him beyond measure. "Are you… smiling?" Aya, noticing Ragna’s face, exclaimed in disbelief. More unsettling than a simple sword swing was the strange sensation his expression evoked. Aya, finding it absurd, snorted. Conversely, Ragna genuinely smiled, truly enjoying the moment. "Do you scream in delight when stabbed with a sword?" Aya asked incredulously. Ragna remained quietly immersed in the experience. A crisis was both a hurdle and an opportunity. From this position, he merely needed to leap forward to what lay ahead. Ragna recognized this as the awaited moment. He required a catalyst. "Shut your mouth. You're giving off a stink." Recalling a verbal 'sword' he'd learned from Enkrid, he used it once more. "Alright, alright. I’ll kill you. I'll make sure you’re finely minced when I do." Aya’s sword moved again. Her sword left afterimages as it danced in every direction. It differed from Laikanos’s form of quick swordplay. Ragna realized his earlier mistake. It wasn’t merely between heavy and quick sword styles. ‘There was illusion mixed in.’ It was comprehensively a highly refined form of swordsmanship. Strangely enough, he liked it even more for that reason. Clang! Clang! Clang! Aya's relentless assault met Ragna's deflecting blade. Thud! He blocked the incoming strike from behind. Finding an opening, he countered. Spark! Clang! Crash! Ting! Occasionally, metal met metal, sending sparks flying. Continually he pushed off the ground with his soles, moving his body without pause. No choice but to move. If he wavered, he'd catch a blade. Thus, he minimized even the slightest moment to catch his breath, enduring the relentless onslaught. "Ha!" A shout came from behind. Sensing an unavoidable attack with overwhelming momentum, Ragna responded instinctively. He lifted his sword vertically, twisting his body to parry. Boom! The loudest sound of the battle erupted. It was the result of blocking the squire's strike. Not just illusionary swords, but a genuine heavy-style slash this time. He should have allowed his body to absorb the shock, but he had failed to do so correctly. His knee throbbed with pain. Then came Aya’s sword, descending towards his head like a bird of prey. Without time to lift his sword, he twisted his body. Whoosh! Thwack! Aya's blade glanced off Ragna's shoulder, sending a spatter of blood into the air. Despite wearing armor, it sliced through effortlessly. Aya's sword was no ordinary blade; it had an extraordinary cutting edge. Ragna swung his own sword in return. His blade, about half a length longer than others, lashed like a whip, cleaving through the air with an electric crack. Boom! Thunder roared from his swing. Aya dodged rather than block. She knew it wasn't the type of attack one could stop. Her eyes, slightly exceptional, saw everything. "Haah." Ragna took a brief moment to catch his breath. Having unleashed all he'd learned, his thigh was slashed, his left shoulder wounded. The balance had tipped against him. Yet, Ragna did not retreat. In his mind, the concept of losing didn’t exist. His thoughts were filled only with closing in on an elusive something. And it wasn’t mere delusion. Ragna knew he stood before a wall only he could perceive, and the current engagement was the catalyst he needed. "Ah, this is fun." In the midst of battle, Ragna muttered to himself. "This insane bastard!" Aya grew even angrier. Though she held the upper hand, she felt something akin to urgency. It was natural. Aya had the "Seeing Will." To her, it seemed as if Ragna was catching up in real-time. 'This monster!' Aya sensed the evolution in her opponent’s swordplay. She saw it happen. Anxiety crept in naturally. "Shit." The squire, Bil, spat out a curse. Usually mild-mannered, he turned fierce when on the defensive. His harsh words indicated that the situation was spiraling out of control. The enemy, who should’ve long been dead, endured. Persisted until his superior, the junior knight, gave one look that told everything. The situation felt utterly absurd to Bil. Aya felt similarly. 'What is this guy!?' The swords in Aya’s hands moved even faster. Momentarily, it seemed as though she had four arms, bewildering her opponent’s eyes. Speed-induced illusion. Ragna's eyes tracked the movement. Thud! He couldn’t defend against everything, taking a hit to his abdomen. Yet, it wasn’t a fatal blow. As he retreated, he twisted his waist to mitigate serious injury. 'He dodges while taking a hit?' Twisting, Ragna extended his blade long. Aya couldn’t maintain her assault. She saw through his intent; there was no reason to recklessly trade blows and expose herself to fang. Her retreat made her calculated thrust a mere graze. The squire, Bil, moved to regain his position. As Aya temporarily pulled back, Ragna wobbled several times. Not a deceitful maneuver, but the toll from enduring another hit. Aya's body reacted instinctively. The opening was clear. Her eyes saw the gap. Bil adjusted his grip to match. 'Finish it now.' It must end. A sense of foreboding coursed through Aya. A realization had sunk in; failure to finish him would spell disaster. How had it come to this? 'Getting stronger while fighting?' Incredible. What kind of talent allowed such a thing? Just as Aya and Bil charged in for the final strike, Ragna understood. 'This is it.' The battle, long or short depending on one’s view, had brought clarity. Ragna recalled his past battles. He envisioned the path of every swing he’d made. Since the moment he first held a sword as a child, Ragna saw the path of his blade. He knew exactly where to direct each strike. An inexplicable ability. When he swung as seen, opponents fell injured or defeated. Such instincts were innate to Ragna’s genius. Between him and the knight and squire before him, there was a disjointed path. Yet, it didn’t connect. Ruptured, he pieced together what he could. Then he realized. He'd only been treading a path already laid out. He followed the way his talent revealed to him. A stance that was passive and defensive. So then, what’s the opposite? ‘With a swung sword.’ Creating a path. Blazing his own trail. From the knight's dual-wield style, two arcs began. Behind, like a thunderbolt, an assault awaited. Amidst these two skilled opponents, Ragna didn’t stitch disconnected paths. Instead, he walked a new road. Crack. His muscles responded, his entire body moved, heart throbbing. Thump! With each heartbeat, Ragna propelled forward. To forge a new path, the first step must be taken. Ragna did just that. Aya’s initial sword was parried by his forearm. Thunk! He tensed the muscle beneath the piercing blade. Simultaneously, a short blade struck from below towards his abdomen. By raising a knee, he deflected the attacking hand, causing it to miss its mark. Slash! The blade skimmed his side, trailing across his back. It all timed with the use of his knee. Ragna clutched the sword in his left hand and pivoted his body. He, too, was a human with superhuman strength. In the heavy sword style, strength training was essential. Aya's sword remained embedded in his arm. Using his right foot as an anchor, Ragna swung his left hand backward. It was a spinning slash. 'Cut.' He infused it with the 'Will of Severance.' Whoosh. The blade slashed through air and sound. Before the squire Bil's sword could fall upon him from behind, the sound-devouring strike reached Bil's torso first. Screech—! Thud! His body was cleaved in twain mid-air. Blood and entrails spilled out. It happened just before Bil's blade could make contact. Even though Bil’s sword struck Ragna’s shoulder with the last of his strength, the brief thud and impact hardly mattered to Ragna. The new path he had forged was still unfolding. Thunk! Blocking with his right arm and striking with his knee on the sword-wielding hand, Ragna rotated again, cleaving through the enemy's torso just as the residual blow caught his shoulder. He headbutted Aya's helmet with his forehead. The faceguard of Aya's helmet caused Ragna’s forehead to split, blood trickling down. But it was of no importance. Crunch! Aya forcibly retrieved her sword from Ragna's right arm. Ragna eased his grip, allowing her to act as she wanted. Instead, he raised his left hand, pulling it upward. The sword that had cleaved Bil descended downwards. Advertisements Aya's eyes dulled. 'Insane.' For a mere moment, the opponent before her exhibited abilities similar to her own. Like the Will that resided in her vision. Finding the optimal move in every battle. Aya attempted to cross her swords, but Ragna's descending strike was heavy. Boom! A thunderous sound erupted where their blades met. Crunch! “Argh!” Aya’s arms shattered. Thus, the battle's outcome was decided. "Ah." Blood flowed from Ragna’s right arm, shoulder, and thigh, and he let out a soft sigh. He teetered as if he might collapse at any moment. Slowly shaking his head, Ragna tried to steady his breathing, striving to stand upright. Yet, his body was still tilted, his exhaustion evident. In that state, Ragna spoke. "Thank you." He meant it genuinely. Aya realized her opponent was sincerely mad. "You, you, this won’t..." This isn’t over. Do you know who I have behind me? I didn’t come alone. But the words did not continue. Instead, Ragna's sword swung accurately at Aya's helmet. Thunk! The helmet crumpled; Aya’s head shattered beneath it. Thus fell a junior knight of the Royal Knights. * * * Enkrid knew this was not the end. Even as he followed the path through dust, he prepared for what lay ahead. Hadn't a rope flown out to bind him just moments ago? Of course, it was futile. The technique of isolation, appearing larger. With a sudden flex and release, he expanded his limbs, tearing the ropes apart using extraordinary strength. As the arrows flying towards him began to lessen, he remained cautious. Repeating today’s efforts wouldn’t matter if he didn’t give his all. That wouldn’t be like Enkrid. Therefore, he gave his utmost. The footsteps of pursuing soldiers faded. Advertisements Yet he didn’t let his guard down. ‘To the very end.’ He pressed on. Whether seeking allies or noticing a signal, his steps were in pursuit of change, not waiting for it. Quarrels had pierced his back—six in total. A blade had also penetrated his thigh. And that wasn’t all. His right boot had been torn away, and he had caught a thrown stone with his forehead. He had bled significantly. The crusted blood on his forehead reopened with intense movement. Every strand of muscle quivered. His limits had been met long ago. But did that matter? No, it didn’t. Thus, Enkrid ran. Thinking this wasn’t the end. Never relax. Running and running. Suddenly, a four-legged beast darted ahead. Enkrid assumed a defensive stance. Dropping the sword in his right hand, he prepared to thrust with the left. The brief preparation came reflexively. It wasn’t just the beast; a man with a long sword stood alongside. Enkrid instinctively started to draw his sword, then halted. The figure spoke. “Let’s spar later. My arm's a bit twisted.” It was Ragna. Growl. Standing beside him was Laika Panther, Esther. They had escaped the encirclement. Enkrid couldn’t tell when exactly it happened. But there was no need to know. Running until death or walking until they escaped. There was never any intention to stop.