Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 602 - The Ember of Despair, the Slash of Hope

Chapter 602 - 602 - The Ember of Despair, the Slash of Hope

Chapter 602 - The Ember of Despair, the Slash of Hope

With a single slash, Enkrid poured all his Will into it.

For ordinary knights—if they could even be classified as such—it would be an impossible feat.

Even those who had acquired the requisite Will would never attempt something like this.

When they first realized the power of Will, intoxicated by the feeling of omnipotence, they experienced 'loss of strength' by pouring too much Will into their actions.

Those who have felt this would instinctively know how dangerous it is to pour too much Will into their body.

Just a little more, and they could die.

This was the price one paid for surpassing the limits of their species with such power.

Yet, Enkrid was born with an inexhaustible Will.

Thanks to this, he had never experienced the loss of strength, nor had he felt the danger it presented—until now.

This was the first time.

The slash severed the walking fire.

As the fire was cleaved in two, Enkrid immediately felt something was wrong.

'Hmm.'

He felt the power drain from his limbs.

His arms and legs no longer felt like his own, and his breath became so ragged that he could barely manage a proper inhale.

His vision grew blurry, and his muscles started to twitch.

Both his thighs and arms trembled, and his abdomen clenched painfully.

It wasn't just muscle pain—it was as if his very freedom of movement was being stripped away.

This overwhelming exhaustion was the result of pouring out all his Will in that single moment.

And the price of it was the dying embers of the walking fire scattering in his vision.

The flames fluttered in the air, and some embers flew off, landing on the ground and igniting the soil.

One of the embers headed straight for Enkrid's face.

'I can't avoid it.'

He had no strength to move, but in the last bit of his fading will, he managed to twist his head aside.

Some of the onlookers who had seen the walking fire and the slash at it thought the same thing.

'It's going to burn.'

They assumed the ember would strike Enkrid's face, and while it wouldn't kill him, it would leave a horrible scar.

Just as the ember was about to touch his face, a heavy hand blocked it.

Thwack.

Enkrid felt his blurred vision begin to clear a little, and before him, he saw a thick hand blocking the ember.

The hand was a Frog's—Luagarne.

There was the smell of burning flesh as Luagarne's skin was singed by the ember.

Luagarne shook her hand to get rid of the flame, but the ember had already scorched her skin, turning it black in an instant.

Before she could shake off the ember, Luagarne had torn off her own skin, as the pain from the fire was worse than that from a blade.

Luagarne wasn't particularly sensitive to pain, so while it wasn't pleasant, she could bear it without much more than a slight frown.

But, remarkably, she didn't even frown.

"It's fine. I regenerate."

She said, and Enkrid blinked, then nodded.

"I should still thank you, though."

His tongue, stiff as stone earlier, finally moved smoothly.

The feeling of exhaustion had controlled his whole body for a moment, but soon after, Enkrid felt his strength returning as rapidly as it had left.

'Why?'

As he reflected inwardly, he felt the surge of Will rising within him again.

The inexhaustible Will—it was something that refilled as soon as it was drained.

And he had realized something else.

'Once I become accustomed to it, I can pour out even more.

If I repeat this, my capacity will expand.

Experiencing loss of strength might even be beneficial for me.'

He could be called a madman dedicated to training.

Even after experiencing the terrible exhaustion just moments before, Enkrid was already planning to use it for further training.

"It really is the walking fire," Luagarne said.

She had lost one of her hands, but after chasing down the person who had left, she returned to see the result.

The situation was still unclear, but that didn't matter.

What grabbed Luagarne's attention was something else.

'That slash earlier.'

Luagarne had been behind Enkrid when he swung his sword.

The slash had cut through the spell—the walking fire.

It hadn't just extinguished the fire; it had severed the spell itself.

The moment it happened, Luagarne was struck by awe.

'He cut the walking fire?'

It was something only a mage would normally be able to do.

What kind of knight would even attempt such a feat?

What a spectacle, a feat so intricate it could be called a display of skill.

Luagarne's heart raced with excitement, the same excitement one might feel when witnessing a magic trick or a perfect display of strength.

The principle behind it was clearer to Luagarne now.

'He poured out an overwhelming amount of Will in an instant.'

That was what Enkrid had done.

Luagarne knew that one of Enkrid's weaknesses had always been that the amount of Will he could pour out in a single moment was limited.

It was like having a well full of water but a small bucket to draw it with.

That is Enkrid's weakness.

Or, rather, it was.

Not anymore.

Enkrid had just proven it.

He had used his Will to overwhelm and counter a spell.

Luagarne was now overwhelmed, not just by the feat, but by the curiosity that stirred inside her.

'How did he overcome his weakness so quickly?'

It was a mystery.

The sheer excitement of the discovery sent her heart pounding.

'It's a mystery.'

Enkrid's vision and tongue returned, but his limbs were still weak.

His senses recovered faster than his body.

Despite this, Enkrid's instincts picked up on malicious intent directed at him.

The feeling emanated from the alleyway ahead, and soon, the figures materialized.

They were not great assassins.

"Die!"

The shout as they attacked was a clear sign of beginners, revealing their positions in such a loud manner.

Why give away their location before even striking?

If Jaxen had seen this, he would have found it utterly incomprehensible.

Hence, they posed no real threat.

But the malice was real.

There were three of them, throwing daggers and launching poison-tipped attacks.

If Enkrid had been alone, it could have been a legitimate threat.

He was still recovering from the exhaustion.

But Enkrid was not alone.

Whip! Thud.

Everything was blocked by Luagarne's whip.

The dark brown whip, woven from monster hide, extended like a snake hunting its prey, striking their knees, waists, and shoulders.

The whip had a round weight at the end, allowing it to be used like a blunt weapon.

The bones of those struck shattered, and their skin was torn.

It was a combination of the Frog's immense strength and the technique of wielding the whip.

All three fell quickly.

They cried out in pain—

"Ah! Ugh!"

But as they collapsed, their eyes filled with venom, and they shouted:

"A world where black blood reigns will come!"

"Come, Demon King, to this land!"

They were cultists.

Was it really for these kinds of people that he had wielded his sword?

A question like that might arise, but Enkrid's gaze showed no wavering as he looked at the three who had been struck down by the whip.

Just a moment ago, he had cut through the burning ffire to save the city's tomorrow.

Had the ferryman seen this moment, he might have asked:

"So, is this the 'tomorrow' you want to save?"

If asked, Enkrid would reply confidently:

"No."

It wasn't.

Would that shock the ferryman?

Even though these men sought his life and their hearts were blackened, did Enkrid want to save them all?

Give everyone the same chance?

Enkrid didn't have such lofty ideals.

He had no intention of saving those who attacked him, let alone showing a saint-like mercy.

"Kill them."

Enkrid ordered.

"That's obvious."

Luagarne nodded.

The actions of the cultists, calling for the Demon King, were probably due to brainwashing, but that wasn't Enkrid's concern.

He couldn't save every person he saw.

He would protect the future behind him, but those who crossed the line would still be killed.

If it weren't like that, he wouldn't have taken up a sword.

A sword was a tool to harm people.

Huff.

Enkrid exhaled, then clenched and relaxed his hand to check his condition.

"Are you okay?"

Luagarne, who had just killed three with a single kick to the head, asked.

Later, someone shouted "Well done!"

He later heard that these three were notorious for causing mayhem in an already lawless city.

Well, there were probably more like them.

"Yeah."

Enkrid replied as he stood up.

His strength was returning after the exhaustion. It didn't feel much different compared to before he had cut through the flames.

'No, I think I'm feeling stronger.'

Anyone who knew about a knight's will would be shocked, but to Enkrid, it was nothing unusual.

The will born from his spirit had always been abundant.

Enkrid checked the blade of his silent longsword.

He noticed a crack had appeared in the middle.

'I'll have to ask Aetrie again.'

When he returned, Krais would probably have something to say.

Would he break all his gear every time he went out?

But at least it was over now.

There were still cold stares directed at him in the city, but there were others as well.

Some looked at him with affection, and beyond their anxiety, there were those who looked up to him.

An old stable keeper, holding a pitchfork, stared at him with a gaze that shifted from shock to reverence and kindness.

"Th-thank you."

The old man's words were filled with nothing but gratitude.

Having seen firsthand how dangerous the walking fire was, he instinctively understood.

Had Enkrid not cut it down, wouldn't some people have died?

What would have happened to the old man's tomorrow, where death had come so often in the past?

No one could know.

But the only thing that had changed was that the man had bowed his head in gratitude.

Nothing grand like the entire Cross Guard praising Enkrid or shouting his nickname.

But that wasn't necessary.

"What happened?"

The lord arrived late.

Soon, Delma and the innkeeper approached as well.

The lord learned about the walking fire and understood roughly how big the danger had been, entering the city and then vanishing.

Luagarne's explanation added the right context.

She seemed almost eager to tell them how incredible Enkrid's actions had been.

"Can you cast spells? From now on, we must add 'Spell Breaker' to the name of the hero who saved this city. If the walking fire, that forbidden spell, had rampaged, who here would have survived? One thing's for sure, I wouldn't have."

Luagarne was certain that as long as she wasn't dead, Enkrid wouldn't die either.

She swore that she wouldn't let this man die before her.

It was a true display of loyalty.

While the lord was puzzled at first, not understanding, and then relieved when he realized just how dangerous the city had been, thanking her, Enkrid reflected on the day that could no longer be reversed.

He remembered holding a mirror at the start of the day, telling Esther that he would strike down the Walking Fire.

If asked why, he would say it was part of the process of steadying his resolve.

'I should get my armor as well.'

After wrapping up things as best he could, Luagarne asked, "Why did you do it?"

"What?"

"Why did you step forward? You don't have any loyalty to protect this city, do you?"

To her, striking down the Walking Fire was an adventure.

That's what she thought.

Enkrid had indeed wondered the same thing while he repeatedly relived the day, burning and dying in the fire.

When asked by the lord, he had said he wanted to protect tomorrow, but now, this was the answer he would give:

"Because I could."

That was all.

It was something he could do.

He could face it without running away.

In the endless repetition of today, he could bring about a new tomorrow.

That was why he did it.

Also, he was glad to have protected the child who wanted to become an innkeeper, the people building the boats with determination, and even the lord, who didn't fully understand but was thankful all the same.

The sun rose over the city again, where more people passed by without knowing the danger of the Walking Fire.

When they woke, it wasn't yesterday but a different sunrise.

Though it had only been one day, the city of Cross Guard felt a little different.

It was more vibrant, and there was a sense of hope that someday, apple trees would bloom.

While there were embers of despair and pain, there were also blades that called for hope and protected lives.

That was the story of what happened in the city yesterday.

As the morning came, and Enkrid prepared for training, he was about to rise when a voice called out.

"Give me a hug. It's cold."

The unexpected visitor had arrived.

"Esther?"

She appeared with a pale face, still wearing a robe, which barely covered her, revealing the hint of her inner garment.

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