A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 228: Bell’s Day

The Semi-Knight Aisia.

She had been a member of the same knightly order as Frokk Lua Gharne.

The technique she wielded was a form of Intimidation, a skill born of sheer resolve.

What the rapier swordsman displayed now seemed to be the same, but more refined and potent.

Enkrid could see it clearly—countless intangible blades slashing, piercing, and slicing at his body.

They were more numerous and far faster than the ones Aisia had summoned.

Though he knew they were illusions, forged of will and falsehood, ignoring them was impossible.

Even as his instincts screamed, his reflexes stirred, and the Sense of Evasion flared to life.

His body almost recoiled on its own, stepping back, but Enkrid clenched his teeth and fought against it.

His body flinched, his shoulders trembled. To stand firm against the approaching blades was to hold a sword to his own heart.

It was just like before.

If he couldn’t break through, it would be retreat. It would be avoidance.

It was the same pressure as Aisia’s Intimidation.

Failing to overcome it meant being crushed by the weight of the wall, conceding defeat without even raising his sword or making an effort to fight.

The ferryman’s laughter flashed in his mind—a mocking grin that would surely ripple across the waters.

Enkrid suppressed his instincts.

“You could die,” the rapier swordsman warned when Enkrid refused to retreat.

But Enkrid didn’t listen.

Even in times when death had been the end, he had risked his life.

Not to struggle for the sake of dying, but to claw forward step by step.

So now, was he supposed to retreat? Was that what he should do?

“Step back,” the rapier swordsman urged again.

Instead, Enkrid began swinging his sword at the approaching blades.

He transformed the Sense of Evasion into an offensive force, ignited the Heart of Might, and threw open the Gate of Perception.

He concentrated every fiber of his being into a single moment, immersing himself fully.

The approaching blades, those intangible swords, came into focus—clear and deliberate.

They slowed, becoming manageable.

Enkrid swung his sword.

He deflected them, crushed them, and shattered them one by one. The broken blades vanished like phantoms, shattering like glass.

And with each destroyed blade, a new one emerged.

“You’re being foolish,” the rapier swordsman said.

It was the last thing Enkrid heard.

He missed one blade.

The blade twisted, snaking through his defenses, and accelerated like a falcon striking its prey.

It was no wonder he had missed it.

Enkrid felt the blade slice through his neck.

It felt real.

It was horrifying, burning, and undeniable. It felt like death itself.

Enkrid closed his eyes.

But he didn’t meet the ferryman.

When he opened his eyes again—

“You awake, crazy Captain?”

It was Rem’s voice.

***

Enkrid succumbed to the Intimidation, swinging his sword wildly at empty air like a madman, until his eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. Then, he collapsed.

Even as he fell, his posture while wielding his sword remained precise and clean—a clear sign of proper training.

Without a groan or scream, he crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been severed, or a doll whose purpose had been exhausted.

The moment Enkrid hit the ground—

Boom!

The sound of feet striking the earth filled the air. One person, then several, moved at once.

Audin sprinted forward, catching Enkrid before he fully collapsed.

Rem drew his axe, standing alongside Ragna to form a barrier between Enkrid and the rapier swordsman.

Meanwhile, Jaxon had already circled to the swordsman’s rear.

“If I intended to kill him, I would’ve done so long ago,” the swordsman said calmly.

Rem knew it too. The man before him was not someone he could guarantee victory against.

‘Not that I couldn’t take him if I truly meant to kill him,’ Rem thought.

But was he alone here?

There was no need to reveal everything in his arsenal just yet.

“If he were dead, I’d have cut you down,” Ragna declared.

Her voice carried absolute conviction. If she said she would strike, she would.

This unshakable confidence was why Ragna’s blade was so strong.

Rem, his usual smile nowhere to be seen, spoke with a flat expression.

“Let’s be careful, alright? My axe has a tendency to act on its own—it’s got a bit of an ego, you see. Ego Axe.”

It was a feeble attempt at a joke, but his deadpan delivery made it all the more chilling.

“He’s physically fine. As for his head, we’ll have to wait until he wakes up to be sure,” Audin reported after checking Enkrid’s breathing.

For once, he didn’t address Enkrid as “brother.”

Intimidation affected the mind. It was a force that oppressed and crushed its target.

There was a chance that when Enkrid awoke, he might be nothing more than a blank slate.

Of course, Audin wasn’t truly worried about that.

Enkrid wasn’t the type to break so easily.

However, if fear had managed to sink its blade into his heart?

That’s what the rapier swordsman had done—

Not leaving physical chains, but carving wounds into his mind.

It was an act akin to leaving behind a psychological scar. Fear, once engraved, was not easily overcome.

“We’ll see when he wakes up and confirm his condition then,” Audin said.

The absence of “brother” in his words lingered.

Thus, the fight ended.

***

Enkrid listened intently to the accounts of what had happened after he fainted. When everyone finished speaking, he nodded calmly.

“I see.”

The Intimidation technique—rooted in Will.

This meant the opponent was at least a semi-knight.

Not just any semi-knight, but one who truly knew how to wield a sword.

“Interesting,” Enkrid murmured.

Interesting?

Everyone turned to look at him.

If he truly meant that, then there was something wrong with his head. They all knew it. But with Enkrid, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

He was, after all, a maniac.

That thought flitted through everyone’s minds in unison.

A brief silence followed.

Was he truly alright? Or was he just putting on a brave face?

Could someone look at that kind of sword technique and still react like this?

Eventually, Rem broke the silence with a conclusion:

“He’s fine—broken, but fine.”

This, after all, was Enkrid’s normal.

To fear a sword?

It could happen. Many who’d survived the battlefield had broken minds, after all.

There were stories of soldiers who froze at the mere mention of “giants” after seeing one in battle.

But such stories didn’t apply to Enkrid.

He had truly, physically endured countless brushes with death.

Someone who had faced actual death and emerged unshaken wouldn’t lose himself over intangible blades, no matter how vivid they felt.

“Like the time you drew the cursed sword—our Captain really must have something broken up here,” Kraiss said, twirling a finger by his temple as he recalled a similar incident.

Smack!

Rem delivered a sharp blow to the back of Kraiss’s head.

The hit was so crisp it made Kraiss’s nickname, “Big Eyes,” seem fitting as his eyes practically popped out in shock.

“Ow! Why’d you hit me?”

“That’s my thing,” Rem replied flatly.

Your thing?

Enkrid silently shook his head, rising to his feet.

“I’m the only one allowed to do it,” Rem added with a mischievous smirk.

Kraiss pouted but wisely stepped back, knowing better than to argue further.

“Are you really alright, Captain?” Audin asked.

“Probably overslept. My body feels great,” Enkrid replied with a shrug.

His nonchalant response earned a faint smile from Audin.

“Remarkable resilience, as always, brother.”

Audin found himself marveling at Enkrid once more.

Why wouldn’t he?

The pursuit of divinity demanded patience and mental fortitude over long, arduous years.

“‘Only those who do not yield to any hardship or threat may lift their heads,’” Audin recited a passage from scripture.

Nobody paid much attention to his words, though.

Ragna, while not typically one to doubt, decided confirmation was necessary.

Schwing.

She drew her sword and stopped it just short of Enkrid’s nose.

“...Spar?” Enkrid asked, staring blankly into Ragna’s eyes.

Anyone afraid of a blade couldn’t conceal their unease.

But Enkrid’s eyes?

They remained steady and unwavering—filled with the same unyielding gaze that had unnerved Swiftblade before.

“We can do it later,” Ragna said, sheathing her sword.

Jaxon, as always, found Enkrid utterly fascinating.

‘Feels like even killing him wouldn’t be enough,’ he thought. Not that he’d ever let Enkrid fall to such a fate without intervening.

Enkrid stood tall once more.

The sparring continued afterward.

This time, the rapier swordsman once again unleashed Intimidation.

The intangible blades came at Enkrid in droves, and once again, he deflected, shattered, and broke them—only to collapse again.

Technically, he didn’t die; it was merely fainting. But the experience felt hauntingly similar to death, something that burrowed into his mind and spirit.

Yet even such a torment couldn’t change Enkrid.

“Is he just enduring it?” the swordsman wondered aloud.

Swiftblade muttered in frustration, “Enough already. If you’re going to kill him, just do it. Why keep poking and prodding?”

The rapier swordsman ignored him.

Meanwhile, the half-blooded giant and Edin Molsen’s guard offered a different perspective.

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“Maybe leave him for last next time. Ends in him fainting before we even get a turn,” the guard suggested.

The giant nodded in agreement, clearly displeased at losing her opportunity.

The rapier swordsman, for his part, acknowledged Enkrid’s limits but also recognized something else.

Determination.

Among everyone here, none remained unchanged after encountering Enkrid.

The seasons shifted. The oppressive heat of summer gave way to the dry, fleeting days of autumn.

In Pen-Hanil’s northern region, where Border Guard was stationed, autumn passed quickly, and the cold would soon set in.

The rapier swordsman declared, “Tell him next time will be the last.”

“Suit yourself,” Rem replied.

Having regained consciousness after fainting from Intimidation once again, Enkrid nodded.

“I want to win this time.”

“There’s only one way,” Ragna chimed in.

She, like many others who sparred with visitors to the city, often provided advice afterward.

This time was no different.

“If you can’t deflect every blade, then strike them down with your heart.”

It wasn’t a vague statement.

Will.

Without the intangible force to overcome Intimidation, victory was impossible.

“Will is something one awakens to,” Ragna explained. “But if it were that easy, the very existence of knightly orders would be impossible. Semi-knights are those who force their Will to awaken.”

There was a chance, of course. But awakening one’s Will wouldn’t mean he could immediately counter such Intimidation.

It was like expecting a toddler to sprint the moment they learned to walk.

Ultimately, Ragna’s words led to a single conclusion:

The swordsman was testing him.

Whatever the intent—whether good or evil, kind or malicious—Enkrid didn’t care.

He only knew one thing:

Intimidation.

Just like every other force that had ever sought to bind his body, he wanted to overcome it.

That didn’t mean he was willing to die to repeat the same struggle endlessly.

But if the challenge lay before him, he would face it.

***

Another day passed, and the night was as ordinary as ever.

Bell, stationed at the city gate, noticed someone approaching through the darkness.

“Who’s there? A merchant?”

Even as he asked, Bell knew this was no merchant.

It was odd for someone to travel alone at night, and instinctively, he could tell the man was no ordinary traveler.

“Is this where the former soldier resides?”

The man was neither wearing a black cloak nor dressed suspiciously.

As he stepped into the torchlight, Bell could see he was young, with slightly dark skin and a sword at his waist.

He carried a single arming sword on one side and three daggers neatly arranged on the other, all with an air of casual, natural confidence.

Despite being armed, he seemed as if he carried no weapons at all.

“I’d like to meet him,” the man said again.

Bell tilted his head briefly before replying.

“No outsiders are allowed into the city at this hour. If you want to meet someone, come back tomorrow during the day. And the meeting... yeah, tomorrow, right?”

He glanced at his fellow guard for confirmation.

“Yeah, that’s right,” his partner confirmed.

Tomorrow, Enkrid was set to resume his sparring sessions after recovering from his recent bout of injuries.

While there had been some rest days, tomorrow was a scheduled sparring day.

“You’re in luck. You can meet him tomorrow,” Bell informed the man.

The visitor hesitated for a moment, his lips twitching before he spoke again.

“I can only spare tonight. Can’t I meet him now?”

Bell considered the man’s insistence odd but also intriguing.

Many came seeking the “former soldier,” but few exuded the presence this man did.

“Let’s test him,” Bell thought.

He knew that some who sought Enkrid left in awe after being defeated by Bell himself.

“Just a mere soldier?” they would mutter before departing.

Bell tapped his partner on the shoulder.

“I’ll check this out. If anything happens, ring the alarm bell.”

“Don’t worry. Before I need to ring the bell, I’ll have already planted an arrow in his forehead,” the partner replied, patting the bow slung at his side.

The man was a skilled archer from Captain Venzance’s platoon, known for his precision.

With that reassurance, Bell stepped outside, opening the side gate.

Several watchful eyes from the guards above followed the interaction as Bell approached the man under the torchlight.

“If you can knock me down, I’ll deliver your message. Want to give it a try?” Bell challenged.

The man smiled faintly.

“Alright.”

Bell leveled his spear, but the man made no move to draw his weapon.

“You’re not going to draw your sword?” Bell asked, his tone hardening.

“If I did, you’d die. And there’s no need to kill you,” the man replied calmly.

This bastard... so confident, Bell thought, annoyance flaring up inside him.

He channeled that irritation into his spear, thrusting it forward in a sharp strike.

The fight was over in an instant.

The man caught the shaft of Bell’s spear mid-thrust.

Bell saw the motion but was half a beat too slow to react.

The stranger closed the distance and struck Bell’s abdomen with the flat of his palm.

Thud!

The impact reverberated through Bell’s body, and for a moment, he thought his stomach had been pierced.

Suppressing the urge to vomit, Bell barely managed to hold himself together as the man commented,

“You’re resilient.”

“...Had a drill instructor who’d fly into a rage if you dropped after one hit,” Bell replied, exhaling shakily.

His legs trembled from the blow, but he could tell—Audin’s fists were heavier than this man’s strike.

Bell made up his mind.

The visitor was clearly more skilled than him and wasn’t willing to wait until morning.

‘All I need to do is deliver the message.’

Enkrid had often mentioned wanting to meet anyone who sought him, even those just passing through.

If this man had proven himself capable, it wouldn’t matter that it was late at night.

Many others had come under similar circumstances.

“I’ll deliver the message,” Bell said, stepping aside.

The man had shown neither hostility nor disrespect, so Bell headed into the barracks to inform Enkrid.

“Someone’s here to see you,” Bell announced.

“Alright,” Enkrid replied, standing up immediately.

“You’re going alone?” Bell asked.

“Why not?”

“Well, I suppose that’s fine,” Bell conceded.

As the gatekeeper, Bell had seen his fair share of visitors seeking Enkrid. Compared to many others, this man seemed less intimidating—he lacked the overwhelming aura or oppressive presence that some brought.

Relaying this observation, Bell watched as Enkrid shrugged it off and headed out alone, his steps light and unhurried.

“Let’s go.”

Enkrid approached the stranger. The two exchanged a few words under the torchlight before their swords clashed.

Clang!

The fight was fierce and spirited, a clash filled with energy.

To Bell’s eyes, it seemed as though dawn itself was rising between them, light spilling into the darkness with each strike.

Then, something strange happened.

The stranger’s blade suddenly grazed Enkrid’s forehead.

The man frowned, shaking his head in what seemed like regret.

At that moment, Enkrid’s body trembled violently before he collapsed face-first to the ground.

He didn’t even attempt to break his fall.

Bell blinked in disbelief.

“Is he... dead?”

And then, the world twisted, tore apart, and transformed.

Enkrid’s death rewound the day, resetting the clock as the curse triggered once more.

Another day began, identical to the one before.

When Bell went to inform Enkrid again, he repeated the words,

“Captain, someone’s here to see you.”

“Alright,” Enkrid replied, rising once more.

Bell tilted his head, confused by how quickly Enkrid moved without asking for details.

As Enkrid stepped outside, a broad grin spread across his face—a rare sight, one filled with boundless excitement.

“Do you know him?” Bell asked.

“No,” Enkrid replied, his voice steady, though his expression betrayed unrestrained joy.

Even without further explanation, it was clear that Enkrid could hardly contain his anticipation.