Eternally Regressing Knight Chapter 58 - Once he possessed it, he could see clearly

Chapter 58 - Once he possessed it, he could see clearly.

There was a ti when even the act of desiring sothing was forbidden in his life.

Dreams were dread, and hopes were harbored, but knowing they could never be achieved, life was rely a struggle.

Such was Enkrid's life.

But not anymore.

Now, he could reveal his desires and pursue them.

In fact, doing so was an advantage in this mont.

After warming up his body with so exercises, it was ti for a short lesson from Jaxen on how to throw a dagger.

"I want to learn more."

"You seed like a complete novice," Jaxen muttered after watching Enkrid throw a dagger.

Enkrid replied nonchalantly, "I saw soone do this on the battlefield and learned by observing."

Jaxen stared at him with a blank expression.

"Believe , it's true."

"Is that so?"

Of course.

Geniuses can do these things, can't they?

During his life as a dullard, Enkrid had witnessed countless so-called geniuses and talented individuals perform such feats.

Now, he simply pretended to be one of them.

This pretense of being a genius was sothing he could manage, as it was a part of repeating today over and over again.

Revealing one's desires worked to his advantage because it ant maintaining such an attitude.

What is a genius, after all?

Geniuses are those who recognize what they need to seize and express their desires without hesitation.

And above all, Enkrid's desire to learn was genuine.

In terms of the sheer will to learn, Enkrid was unrivaled on the continent.

"Very well."

As always, Jaxen's decision was swift.

After a brief mont of deliberation, he taught with sincerity.

It was quite an enjoyable session.

Enkrid repeated the thods of gripping and throwing the dagger.

In a short amount of ti, sweat drenched him.

"You ntioned you have a shift, didn't you?"

"It's fine."

After all, this was just light exercise, not overexertion.

And so, today began anew.

More precisely, it was the seventh iteration of today.

Instead of walking between Jack and Bo, Enkrid took the far-left position.

"I need to walk on the far left. It's a superstition of mine."

When Enkrid insisted, what could they do?

Jack and Bo had no objections.

"If you say so. That's... unusual."

"Well, walk wherever you feel comfortable."

Though the sweat had quickly cooled, the warmth inside his body remained.

Despite being the seventh repetition of today, the air felt strangely different.

The sun pierced through the cold wind and touched his skin.

The chirping of winter birds brushed against his ears.

The sensation of soil underfoot and the resonance of the earth with every step was pleasant.

The air, the ground, the soil, the wind—

Everything wrapped around him, brushed against him, ward him, lingered montarily, and then flowed away.

The sky was clear.

Even in the biting chill of winter, the fourth season of the year, as it heralded the end of a cycle with its bone-piercing winds,

That very wind brought more freshness than coldness.

Though today was a repetition, Enkrid had always endured it with intensity.

Yet today, for so reason, he felt a little more relaxed.

Peace seed to envelop him.

Not that he had forgotten the intensity required—

He simply felt comfortable.

The path he walked, this mont—everything was.

'Why do I feel so at ease?'

He didn't know.

Even though he was aware of his impending death.

The agony, the mont when he would have to struggle against death, was drawing near.

Dying never beca familiar, no matter how many tis it happened.

"Throwing is instantaneous. Before that, relax your entire body. Let it go limp and focus in a state of calm. It's not easy," Jaxen had said.

He was only half-right.

It was indeed difficult, but it wasn't impossible.

It was challenging, but doable.

Courage—the gift of The heart of the beast—was the reason for this capability.

Courage allowed him to confront death and observe everything to the very end.

And Pin-point focus, allowed him to perceive the sa situations in entirely new ways.

The combination of courage and focus brought Enkrid to the brink of talent.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have attained such courage or focus, but in his current state, he had both threads to hold onto.

'I can do this.'

With just a few lessons and repetitions—

A re three or four practice sessions were enough to ingrain it into his body.

Luck played a significant role.

Under normal circumstances, even countless repetitions wouldn't have sufficed, yet he grasped it effortlessly.

That fragile thread was a source of imnse joy for Enkrid.

An unprecedented sense of elation.

"Are you all right?" Bo asked beside him.

With his vacant expression and random grinning, he probably didn't look fine.

At least he wasn't drooling.

"Ah, um, I'm fine. Sorry for the unsightly display."

Enkrid wiped his mouth for no reason and kept walking.

Jack and Bo exchanged glances as they watched his jaunty steps.

With a gesture, Jack asked,

'This guy's a bit crazy, isn't he?'

'I think so too,' Bo replied with a look.

They communicated through subtle glances and gestures—an old habit from their ti in the Thieves' Guild.

"Nice weather," Enkrid comnted.

"It's freezing out here," Jack replied, pouting.

Normally, he would flatter his opponent to lull them into a false sense of security, but Enkrid was so disard that Jack felt instinctively rebellious.

This guy was sothing else.

"Of course it's cold—it's the last season of the year."

Winter was harsh, but one mustn't be deceived by its severity and miss its charm.

Relaxing the body wasn't as simple as just thinking it.

Images of Jaxen's demonstration floated through his mind.

And overlaid upon them was the image of the half-blood elven assassin.

To relax the body, the mind had to relax first.

ntal burden, threats, and anxiety—

Enkrid discarded all of it.

In that relaxed state of mind, he repeatedly recalled the half-blood elf throwing a whistling dagger.

In truth, it wasn't much different from today's repetitions.

What did he learn from defeat?

What had he learned in countless life-and-death scenarios?

He had passed the stage where he had to gamble his life to gain sothing.

He repeatedly asked himself countless questions. With a suitably relaxed body and mind, his gait felt strangely fluid.

He walked, but the solemnity of patrolling duty was absent.

Before he knew it, he was in the market.

"Hey, Squad Leader, what's making you so happy?" Jack asked, stopping in his tracks.

He wasn't genuinely curious; his subtle shifts in posture showed he was preparing sothing.

Bo also adjusted his steps, both moving into positions to close in.

They subtly angled their bodies to obscure the view and poised themselves to draw their weapons at any mont.

Enkrid, keeping both of them in his peripheral vision, steadied his breathing once.

And then he moved.

With the tip of his foot, he tapped Jack's shin.

Though he thought his body and mind were relaxed, his movents were more precise than ever.

It was an uncanny, perfectly tid kick, leaving his opponent with no chance to react.

Thud.

"Argh!"

Jack doubled over, clutching his shin.

Enkrid, with light, almost playful steps, pressed down on Jack's head with his left hand and brought his knee up.

Smack!

The sound of dough being slapped echoed.

Jack's head snapped back up, his nose bridge broken and face covered in blood.

"You bastard, I'm not selling at that price!"

The move had been a beat faster than planned.

It was an instinctive action, unrelated to the plan they had laid out for today.

It wasn't intentional—his body had simply acted on its own.

'It doesn't matter, does it?'

Enkrid didn't care.

It felt as though he had taken a drug that made his mind hazy while flooding his body with euphoria.

Even if he had consud actual drugs, it wouldn't have mattered.

His body felt that light.

"What the!"

Bo's startled reaction was clear.

Enkrid's hand was already reaching for Bo's nape, catching him off guard.

"Tch!"

Bo pulled his neck back, just as Enkrid had expected.

Whenever he moved to exploit the elent of surprise, Bo always reacted in one predictable way.

Having seen that pattern more than five tis now, Enkrid was thoroughly familiar with it.

Instead of his extended left hand, he planted his left foot firmly and twisted his body in the opposite direction.

Using his left foot as the pivot, he spun, not to face Bo directly but to turn sideways while extending his right hand.

In an instant, his arm's reach extended, and his right hand connected with Bo's retreating face.

The touch was not the end of it.

Boom!

The impact of the punch echoed like a drum tearing apart.

Enkrid's fist, charged with strength, speed, and focus, shattered Bo's face.

"Gah!"

Clutching his face, Bo stumbled back several steps.

Enkrid calmly turned his body back around.

Perhaps he had started a bit too early, but that didn't matter.

Even on a day that repeats itself, events do not always unfold the sa way.

Anything could change.

Enkrid understood that better than anyone.

His gaze shifted to the half-blood elf. Though still wrapped in rags, the elf's hand moved.

From below to above.

A beam of light streaked forth, following the motion of the elf's right hand.

Enkrid had no defensive asures prepared for it.

Yet.

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

Ti seed to slow.

For Enkrid, this was the second ti he experienced such a phenonon.

This was the mont when concentration broke through its limits—a crack in ti often encountered by those at the pinnacle of genius.

The sa sensation had shone through during his final battle against the mustached soldier in Aspen's last war.

It was happening again now.

Of course, Enkrid wasn't fully aware of it.

His mind remained half entranced.

That half-dazed state, burning concentration, blade-sharp senses, and the audacity of a beast...

Together, they allowed him to see the beam of light and predict its destination.

"Can I dodge it?"

No, there wasn't enough ti.

The fleeting crack in ti closed as Enkrid's brain spun at high speed and reached an answer.

Thwack! Screeeech!

He blocked with his arm.

The blade of light pierced his left arm, shielding his heart.

The whistling dagger emitted a shrill noise as it buried into his forearm, followed by a surge of pain.

The heavy impact and searing ache from the blade radiated through his arm.

The pain felt distant, almost numbing.

The chaos around him faded to a faint murmur.

Seeing the attack made him want to have it.

Having it made him see.

Enkrid's eyes could now trace the dagger's trajectory, allowing him to block it.

He raised his head to face the enemy.

The half-blood elf had discarded his rags and was relentlessly moving both hands.

He was like a living, rapid-fire crossbow—or fiercer still.

Enkrid had failed to dodge the first attack, but now he could evade.

He tracked the movent of the elf's hands and predicted the trajectory of the incoming light beams.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Two were evaded perfectly, and one grazed his cheek.

The whistling daggers produced a peculiar harmony as they sliced through the air.

Enkrid pulled the dagger from his forearm.

Though blood poured from his wound, it wasn't debilitating.

The area struck wasn't the one his opponent had aid for, but one Enkrid had deliberately chosen to block with.

Thanks to that, he had a gash on his arm, but it didn't hinder his movents.

The leather armor on his forearm had also served its purpose.

"You bastard."

The half-blood elf, now visibly enraged, closed the distance. Even as he advanced, he continued unleashing beams of light from his concealed stash.

Dodging every one was impossible.

Or perhaps he could have held out longer—if today had been like any other.

But today was different.

Before Enkrid realized it, Rotten had crept up behind him.

Rotten shoved Enkrid.

Thud.

And that was the end of it.

Three daggers sang through the air, striking Enkrid—one in the heart, another in the side, and the last in the neck.

Agonizing pain surged through him.

Enkrid's body slowly crumbled.

Forcing himself to kneel on one knee, he felt a searing warmth rise from deep within his throat.

Unable to hold it back, he opened his mouth, spilling bloody foam.

Aaah!

Only then did the surrounding screams pierce his ears.

His hazy mind returned to clarity, and the pain hit him in full force.

The half-blood elf assassin approached the fallen Enkrid.

His expression was anything but pleasant.

"You."

He uttered a single word, then fell silent.

A persistent lover never spares its prey.

But he didn't continue speaking—no, he couldn't.

The assassin's gaze fell on Enkrid's face.

"This bastard."

His eyes bulged with fury, like a toad filled with venom.

Enkrid was laughing.

"Heh, heh."

Even as he spat bloody foam, he laughed.

The elf mistook the laugh for mockery, but Enkrid harbored no such intent.

As he neared death, he thought:

'Only seven tis.'

Today had only repeated seven tis.

Yet it wasn't just a breakthrough he had glimpsed—it was a path far beyond that.

Only seven tis.

No, it wasn't just "only."

Because he had known neither despair nor resignation, focusing solely on tomorrow, this was possible.

An unremarkable talent created a tireless human.

That endless effort allowed him to grasp the fringes of genius.

It wasn't a miracle.

Miracles didn't exist.

This was a reward for persisting through countless repeated days without succumbing to despair or defeat.

One day, in the repeated today,

Enkrid believed he would bring it to an end.

"This crazy bastard."

Thwack!

The elf thrust a long blade into Enkrid's throat once more.

And that was the end.

The mont of death.

As darkness consud the world, Enkrid saw the boatman riding the river.

Hee-hee!

The boatman laughed at him again.

Enkrid couldn't wait to see the boatman next ti.

What kind of expression would that mocking laugh take then?

"Good morning."

Morning ca, and Enkrid woke once more.

Rising with ease, he felt renewed.

He hadn't mastered it perfectly, but he had learned how to throw whistling daggers.

Not flawlessly, but he had also learned the basics of a monk's calisthenics from Audin.

"Freezing cold out here. What's so good about it?"

"I had a great dream."

A truly, utterly wonderful dream.

It had been a hazy day, one where he wandered in a trance.

That day, that today.

Enkrid had caught a glimpse of a life with talent.

And he was deeply satisfied.

At the sa ti, he saw the path forward—the way to surpass the wall blocking his path.