A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 225: Unyielding Gaze

"Form a line!"

Kraiss stepped forward, evidently just as delighted by the commotion as Enkrid.

Without hesitation, he shouted the command upon spotting Enkrid. But despite his enthusiasm, all eyes remained fixated on the commander.

Those gazes carried questions, silent demands.

Enkrid instinctively met each pair of eyes in turn.

The half-giant warrior’s gaze seemed to say: Keep your promise to fight me again.

The Swiftblade, on the other hand, smirked, shrugging his shoulders in mockery, as if to say Enkrid was nothing to be concerned about. A crude and unsubtle provocation.

"I’ve come to settle a score," declared Edin Molsen, the son of Count Molsen, in a commanding tone that suggested he assumed he’d be first.

Lastly, the swordsman from the Lochfried Trading Company, who had previously drained Enkrid of energy like a leech, stood with wide eyes, scanning Enkrid from head to toe.

He didn’t bother hiding his astonishment. In fact, he made no effort to conceal his thoughts as he spoke aloud.

"This is ridiculous. You’ve truly improved. I thought even surviving dozens of deaths wouldn’t get you here."

He wasn’t wrong.

Enkrid had reached this point not by mere survival, but by truly dying hundreds of times and clawing his way back.

Though, of course, no one else could know that.

It was time for Enkrid to decide.

Who should I fight first?

“What line? Hey, did you actually fight that woman yesterday? Lucky to still be alive,” sneered the Swiftblade.

His mocking grin was insufferable. He was far from likable, but that wasn’t the issue.

His stance, his relaxed posture, the way his arms hung at his sides—all of it spoke of a seasoned warrior, ready to draw his sword at a moment’s notice.

What surprised Enkrid was how clearly he could see that now.

Reflect. Reflect again.

The words Audin had imparted echoed in his mind as he watched the Swiftblade.

“I don’t care who’s first,” Enkrid finally declared.

"So, you’re confident you can defeat anyone?" Edin Molsen retorted, his voice tinged with anger.

What was his name again? Enkrid had already forgotten.

“My apologies, but what was your name again, son of the Count?” Enkrid asked casually.

Edin’s face turned crimson with rage.

True provocation required sincerity, unlike the Swiftblade’s feeble attempts. Enkrid genuinely didn’t remember his name, having been too preoccupied enjoying the “harvest” before him.

“What?”

Edin’s expression shifted from shock to fury, entirely unconcerned with the stares of others.

“I’ll teach you some manners,” he growled, stepping forward.

"Line up, I said!" Kraiss repeated, seemingly oblivious to the danger, drawing Edin’s wrath.

"If you want to die, feel free to interrupt again, soldier."

Edin’s arrogance was met with Kraiss’s shrug.

"You're blocking a public road where merchants and townsfolk pass. This is inconvenient for everyone," Kraiss said matter-of-factly.

"Fine, I’ll kill you first," Edin spat, drawing his sword with a metallic scrape.

Kraiss swiftly retreated behind Rem, shouting, "Rem! Captain! Captain!"

Edin stopped in his tracks, glaring at Rem, who stepped forward, muttering, "Why do you have to be so aggravating sometimes?"

The twin hatchets at Rem’s belt swung slightly as he moved with his usual casual demeanor.

“Listen, maybe Kraiss has a point. Let’s move this somewhere else,” Rem suggested, his gaze sweeping the gathering.

But then his eyes landed on Enkrid, and his expression shifted.

This mad captain of ours...

What was Enkrid thinking? Why was he acting like this? Rem understood why Enkrid was excited, but this seemed excessive.

“You’re going to take on all three of them?” the swordsman with the rapier asked incredulously.

It was true.

Enkrid was gauging the distance between himself, the half-giant warrior, the rapier swordsman, and the Swiftblade.

As if he intended to fight them all at once.

He’s not going to live a normal lifespan like this, Rem thought.

But Enkrid had already far exceeded a normal lifespan in many ways.

"Brother, you’re being greedy," Audin said from behind, his calm voice cutting through the tension and dampening Enkrid’s overwhelming presence.

“No matter what this is, I don’t think it’s worth damaging the city over,” the rapier swordsman added, stepping back.

"Whatever," the Swiftblade muttered, also retreating.

Without a word, the half-giant warrior followed suit.

“...I cleared out the area behind my inn,” said Allen, the innkeeper, stepping forward.

He gestured to the group with a merchant’s practiced ease. He had prepared a training ground behind the inn, complete with a spacious courtyard, paved with stone, and even a few chairs set up for spectators.

“Perfect,” Enkrid said with a nod.

Allen led the group toward the space, and as they moved, Rem sidled up to Enkrid.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? You should rest if you’ve hit your head.”

“I’d rather not hear that from you,” Enkrid replied flatly.

Kraiss, walking nearby, grinned mischievously.

"How about it, Captain? My efforts paid off, didn’t they?"

Enkrid couldn’t deny it.

With water and seeds, the harvest had indeed been plentiful.

“You can keep this month’s cut from the Gilpin Guild,” Enkrid said, referring to the guild dues—a significant reward in Kraiss’s life.

“Gladly,” Kraiss replied with a grin.

As they reached the training ground, Edin could no longer contain his fury.

"You bastards! Do you think you can treat a noble of the kingdom this way?"

If he were a dragon, he might have spewed fire.

Enkrid chuckled inwardly, finally making his decision.

“I’ll start with the Count’s son. Step forward,” he said, granting the noble the courtesy he believed he deserved.

Edin, his companion, and their guard passed by Enkrid with haughty expressions, heading to the designated area.

The training ground was a well-crafted space, complete with a leveled stone surface and chairs for onlookers.

Kraiss, ever the showman, announced like a carnival barker:

"First up, the Count’s son! Everyone else, please wait your turn!"

Contrary to expectations, there were no complaints. The crowd watched quietly, their gazes filled with curiosity or arrogance.

Facing Edin, Enkrid smirked as the noble raised his sword and barked, “Come at me first!”

Enkrid obliged, striding forward without even drawing his blade.

"Are you mocking me?" Edin snarled, swinging his sword down with all his might.

But Enkrid didn’t stop.

He wanted to show everyone what he was capable of—what his sword truly represented.

At the last moment, he drew his blade with a crisp sching, parrying Edin’s strike with the ricasso near the hilt.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Using his knees to absorb the force, Enkrid deflected the blow with a dull thud.

Then, in a seamless motion, he closed the gap, twisting his body and driving his right fist into Edin’s midsection.

Thwack!

The impact, despite Edin’s reinforced leather armor, was devastating. The noble coughed up whatever air remained in his lungs.

Though Edin had improved since standing beside his father, he was still lacking.

Too inexperienced, Enkrid judged, particularly vulnerable to unconventional tactics.

Enkrid’s calculated recklessness paid off. He looked up from the fallen Edin, addressing the guard standing behind him.

“Are you just going to watch?”

The guard’s eyes hardened, his expression grim. Though he clenched his teeth, he shook his head.

It wasn’t time yet, apparently.

Enkrid didn’t care. There were plenty of challengers left.

***

The rapier swordsman was genuinely stunned.

“Has his skill improved?”

There’s always a gap between gauging someone’s ability from their stance and witnessing them in actual combat.

Enkrid was seasoned, daring, and knew how to enjoy the fight.

What could he say?

To think this man could change so drastically—it was unimaginable.

“He’s improved tremendously.”

How could one describe such a thing?

It was like gazing upon barren wasteland, only to find it had transformed into lush, green plains overnight.

“Incredible,” he muttered to himself, almost involuntarily.

Enkrid didn’t look like a genius, but his skills had developed at an abnormal pace.

“Surprises never cease,” said the female warrior beside him. Her towering frame stood several heads taller than his.

“Well, you wouldn’t know what he was like before,” the rapier swordsman replied.

“Only the present matters,” she said, her eyes gleaming.

Who is this now? he wondered. She was clearly no ordinary person.

The female warrior also glanced at the rapier swordsman, her expression questioning: What exactly are you?

But that was the extent of their mutual curiosity. Neither cared much for the other.

Right now, both of them had someone far more important in their sights.

For the rapier swordsman, it had been a long time since he’d felt such intrigue.

Once called the reincarnation of Frokk, he had a weakness for the kind of curiosity that now stirred within him.

He wanted to fight. To test himself against this opponent and measure their abilities.

But before he could step forward, the female warrior took the initiative.

“My turn, I presume?”

Not so fast.

“Sister, why don’t you play with me for the day? It seems our brother over there is itching for a fight,” said Audin, stepping in smoothly.

The swordsman who called himself Swiftblade smirked. “Good eye, big guy.”

It was true. Watching Enkrid fight made Swiftblade’s blood boil.

There was something about him—he just begged to be cut down.

“Hmm, he looks like the perfect plaything. I’ll let you have him,” Swiftblade said as he walked toward the center of the training ground.

His words weren’t directed at anyone in particular, but his gaze fell on someone whose gray hair and piercing eyes annoyed him.

That guy—the one who called his captain’s head broken.

Swiftblade wanted to slice him up as well.

His thoughts shifted back to Enkrid as he faced him directly.

“You’ve got a mean punch,” Swiftblade remarked.

“I like to think my swordplay is even better,” Enkrid replied casually.

Look at this bastard talk.

Swiftblade stopped smiling. He wasn’t the kind of man whose expression matched his mood.

When he smiled, he wasn’t happy.

But when his face hardened, that’s when he was truly enjoying himself.

“I’ll cut off at least one of his arms.”

That should change those eyes of his, shouldn’t it?

They were too straight, too upright. His eyes revealed his unwavering resolve, and Swiftblade was skilled at reading such things.

More than that, he excelled at breaking them.

When those upright eyes were trembling in fear, drowning in desperation—that’s when Swiftblade felt a rush of pure ecstasy.

The very thought filled him with excitement.

“I want to carve him up already.”

He’d take his time, hunting him down as if cooking a meal. He hoped Enkrid wouldn’t crumble after just a few scratches.

Swiftblade sincerely hoped for that.

***

The fight between the two lasted quite a while. A flurry of minor techniques targeted each other in rapid succession.

In the end, Swiftblade left sixteen cuts on Enkrid’s body.

Among them, the wound on his abdomen was dangerously close to being fatal—had it been just a little to the side, it would have spelled disaster.

And yet.

“Wow, you’re something else,” Swiftblade said with a grin.

But his opponent’s eyes remained unchanged.

Swiftblade laughed, though not out of joy. This situation wasn’t enjoyable for him—not yet.