A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

A whip is originally faster than a sword. That's because it uses centrifugal force, delivered through the snap of the wrist.

When a whip gains enough force and speed, it makes a ripping sound through the air — and that doesn't change just because the whip gets bigger.

KUAANG! KWARUNG!

It was like thunder exploding right beside them.

Lua Gharne could swing a whip too, but when she did, the sound was more like pop, crack.

Monster.

That was Pell's conclusion. Lua Gharne figured that if that iron whip landed properly, not even reinforced armor would hold.

While both of them were recognizing, analyzing, and reacting, Enkrid was using accelerated thought to track the whip's movement with his eyes.

If he didn't see it, he'd be hit. If he couldn't predict it, he'd lose a limb — an arm or a leg, at best.

Fast.

At times, Rem's arm had curved like a whip, and his axe had once felt like a flash of lightning — but this? This was something even beyond that.

The giant grinned and cracked the whip in a sweeping motion. He wielded it with skilled precision.

KWAANG! KUAANG! KWAZIIIK! KWAAAA!

Four more thunderous booms shook the area.

If there'd been anything in the path of that whip, it would've been obliterated. A human body? Easily reduced to chunks scattered in every direction.

"Into the forest!"

Lua Gharne shouted. She meant to use the terrain. As she cried out, she felt blood running from her ear.

Her eardrum had ruptured.

Same with Pell. Just from hearing the whip's roar, their ears couldn't withstand it.

The two of them fell back even further. This was a monster — one that didn't even allow you to approach.

Enkrid, meanwhile, hadn't moved an inch during the four strikes. After dodging the first blow, he simply stood still, holding his sword.

Even his eardrums were intact. Jaxon had once said that dulling one's senses could be trained, and Enkrid had practiced that method. With repetition, he'd learned how to protect his body using Will — and ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) that naturally led into the knightly technique known as Endure.

A knight could withstand most attacks using this technique. That's how he preserved his hearing.

While the whip howled, Enkrid had been organizing his thoughts.

"The enemy's range gives him the advantage."

"Right now, this is the ideal distance for whip use."

"If I close in, the whip will fly straight at me."

Should he pretend to charge, then feint?

"No. Bad idea."

His instincts rejected the thought. Enkrid couldn't find a solution among the techniques he knew. This was an opponent he couldn't beat with mind games.

That whip — it was a weapon that combined offense and defense. With its speed, it could strike twice in the time it took a sword to swing once.

What if he sacrificed an arm to grab it? Could he still win after such an injury? Even a knight would lose balance from a missing limb. Adapting would take time — and he'd have to fight unbalanced until then.

Instinctively, Enkrid breathed long and thin.

"If the brain can't keep up..."

Then the body would have to lead.

Interestingly, this brought to mind a moment from his training with Jaxon:

"What if there's no time to think?"

"Then feel with your body and react. You can do it. Sharpen your senses."

Don't process with reason. React with instinct.

This teaching overlapped with what Rem had once said. Though Jaxon never admitted to supporting Rem's methods, he used to secretly train Enkrid at night. When Rem found out, the two of them had clashed — again.

Ironically, this was exactly the lesson Enkrid wanted to pass on to Pell:

"If you rely on your brain during a duel, there's no answer. Instead, move your body in ways your opponent can't predict."

He held his breath.

Enkrid stopped tracking the whip with his eyes — and began sensing it instead.

Here, he was lucky. Thanks to Lua Gharne, he had experience facing whips.

A whip, by nature, moves at high speed. Because it's based on wrist motion and centrifugal force, it tends to form rhythm and flow.

The giant said nothing as he swung the iron whip. Brute force surged from his thick arms to the weapon, exploding through the air.

KWA-AAANG!

That coiled steel monstrosity ripped the air as it swung in a diagonal arc, aiming to tear through Enkrid's body.

Dodging wasn't going to be easy.

CHHHIIING!

Enkrid didn't dodge.

He blocked it. He thrust out his sword and braced for the blow.

He couldn't block it completely, but he could withstand it — for a few times at least. Following nothing but intuition, he guessed the whip's path and parried it.

CHHHIIING! CHING! BOOM!

He did it three more times.

A dull ache spread through his hand. Fortunately, True Silver was sturdy enough to withstand the iron whip.

"How long do you think you can block that?"

The giant roared. Enkrid narrowed his eyes.

Again, the whip flew at him — a reaper descending with a thunderclap.

And Enkrid jumped — straight forward.

Like a man charging into death.

A single graze would tear flesh. Even armor forged from Will would be crushed.

The giant sensed victory. But then, his instincts betrayed him.

The whip sailed over Enkrid's head.

Luck? The giant thought so.

But Enkrid had slipped through the whip's rhythm. Now within sword's reach, he swung.

The giant blocked with the iron gauntlet on his left wrist.

CLAAANG!

Sparks flew. True Silver left a gouge in the gauntlet, slicing off a shard of metal.

"He blocked it."

From the giant's perspective, it looked like a wild, lucky strike had been stopped.

The giant's body was over twice the size of a normal man. His strides were monstrous. He retreated quickly to gain distance, then whipped the weapon again, never giving Enkrid a moment to breathe.

"You think luck will save you twice?"

If Enkrid kept blocking, his sword would eventually break — and after that, his arms and legs.

"I'll crush them one by one until he pisses himself."

That was the giant's plan.

But Enkrid dove back in.

He lowered his stance and slipped beneath the whip's range.

KWAANG!

The wind from the whip tossed his hair like a storm. It almost ripped it out by the roots. It blew back his bangs, exposing his clear forehead and piercing blue eyes.

The giant saw those glowing eyes beneath that smooth brow.

"It's not luck."

Of course it wasn't. Enkrid had read the rhythm of the whip. There was a fundamental difference in skill between them.

If this weren't a specialized weapon, the fight wouldn't even be this close.

"You're not what I heard!"

The giant shouted. Even from close up, his size was overwhelming.

Enkrid struck again — going for the neck. His light, swift sword darted like a swallow.

The giant raised his gauntleted hand again — but Enkrid's sword curved and slashed his right upper arm.

SPRAAACK!

Flesh tore and split.

Compared to the whip's thunder, it sounded more like a lover's whisper. But volume doesn't equate to lethality.

A sharpened blade can kill any man — and even giants fall to a strike infused with Will.

Thick skin split. Blood surged.

He'd hit a blood vessel. No, not luck — Enkrid had aimed for it. For tendons. For arteries.

"The more you understand the human body, the easier it is to fight it."

That was Audin's teaching. Enkrid had drilled it into his body, every day.

All of it — experience, insight, a willingness to learn — had built to this moment.

Those blue eyes saw the future. His intuition had read the whip's rhythm.

"You're no ordinary knight."

The giant muttered darkly.

No one liked dying. Not even Hatun, the giant.

He'd heard Enkrid had just gotten lucky and became a knight — that his companions made him tough to handle.

That's why he waited until the man was alone.

Assassins had failed repeatedly at Border Guard. Then word came that Enkrid had gone off by himself. That's why he came.

"You're beyond a Battle Apostle."

The giant kept speaking.

But between those two sentences, Enkrid had already sliced his knee and severed his wrist.

Blood gushed. That wrist could no longer swing a whip.

The Demon Sanctuary Church had powerful Battle Apostles — but Hatun now realized Enkrid was above even them.

"They should've sent the Evil Spirit Apostle..."

Hatun said again. Was he trying to relay a message to someone? Whatever. Enkrid ignored it.

"Hard to deliver the package when I don't know your address."

With that, Enkrid kicked the giant's thigh, vaulted upward, and slashed—

True Silver carved a clean arc, slicing across the giant's throat.

WHUMP.

Hatun raised his hand too late. The blade had already passed.

He clutched at the wound, asking:

"How did you dodge the whip?"

So many questions.

Understandable. People get curious when they're about to die.

His eyes were full of regret.

"The rhythm's simple."

"...You bastard."

Simple rhythm? What kind of lunatic thinks seeing the rhythm means you can dodge it?

But it didn't matter. This was like fighting one of the Holy Knights in the Gray Divine Army.

It wasn't about Will — it was about pure skill and experience.

Hatun's corpse collapsed backward. Dust rose, and a pool of blood formed — like a lake.

He wouldn't drown in it, of course. The dead can't die twice.

Enkrid stepped away from the spreading blood.

"Looks like the Demon Sanctuary Church sent an assassin."

That was his only comment.

"Doesn't look like that giant came to make friends," Pell muttered in reply.

Enkrid, being Enkrid, simply resumed walking.

"Let's go."

"Won't they send more after us?"

Pell was worried — rightfully so.

"Even the Demon Sanctuary Church can't afford to send assassins like that in bulk," Lua Gharne said.

She eyed the whip closely.

Even if they were powerful enough to claim dominance on the continent, sending multiple assassins like Hatun wasn't realistic.

She was right. Thanks to Hatun's failure, the central continent branch would have to retreat.

***

"Hatun failed?"

The High Priest sighed upon hearing the news. He disliked the thought of an unhinged lunatic calling himself a "Madman" standing in his way.

"I can't let him live."

Hatun's death proved Enkrid's strength. If they could track him again —

"He's rarely without his Order."

So they'd have to strike when he was isolated.

"Gather all remaining forces in this region. I'll go myself."

The High Priest, and First Apostle, declared it. He believed there was still a chance.

"He'll come back to Border Guard eventually."

They just needed to hold the route.

He misjudged one thing — he thought Hatun had died after a hard-fought battle. No matter how much intel they gathered, they couldn't know everything.

Another cultist had watched from afar. To him, it had looked like Hatun had the upper hand at first. A mistake, born of poor judgment.

Too many talented men had died trying to take Enkrid down — and now, a shortage of usable forces had created tragedy.

***

Whether someone targeted him or not, Enkrid kept walking.

By the fourth day, he was talking with Lua Gharne, teaching her, revisiting his own thoughts, and crossed a river.

There was a noble estate on the way, one he knew — but he didn't stop by.

He wasn't obsessed with the Ferryman's dream...

But since he saw Shinar in it—

"She didn't look like she was having a good time."

If what the Ferryman showed him was true.

Following the path Esther had embedded in his mind, Enkrid crossed a southern river, moved east, and passed several mountains.

Even after Hatun, they encountered monsters and bandits — but Enkrid didn't bother stepping in.

"Banditry? Are you nuts?"

Pell handled it. Lua Gharne stepped up and finished the job.

That's how they reached it.

A place Esther called the Ghost Forest.

A green mist covered the forest's edge. It really looked like ghosts could leap out at any moment.

The forest stretched from a desolate mountain path. There was no sign anyone had traveled it in ages.

Enkrid had just finished splitting the skull of a boar-like beast.

As he stepped forward twice —

His senses surged.

Sound, scent, the faint pressure on his skin — everything entered the domain of heightened sensory technique.

He could see the projectile mid-flight.

An arrow — slicing the air with a shhk.