A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 719

Chapter 719

Up to this point, Enkrid had used pure mental fortitude to forcibly hold back and preserve his Will—but that restraint had weighed heavily on his mind. His thoughts felt thick and clouded, as if filled with sediment.

Freely releasing an abundance of Will is far less exhausting than the constant effort of suppressing and managing it. It is the literal difference between pushing a massive boulder and trying to carry it; the latter inherently demands more of the soul.

Enkrid was now paying the price for that exertion. His physical form, mirroring his psyche, felt heavy with residue. He had been locked in a relentless struggle amidst the downpour while simultaneously strangling his own power. It was undeniable that he was far from his peak condition.

However, that was irrelevant.

Kyak!

A few stray creatures attempted to intercept them, but he crushed their skulls using Penna. At his side, Ragna swung his massive blade with total conviction.

The strike, executed without any unnecessary flair or wasted movement, buried itself deep in the chest of an owlbear—a perfectly timed thrust.

Setting aside his heavy style, Ragna possessed a raw, innate ability that would leave even a master of traditional forms in awe.

‘He is truly a marvel.’

Enkrid kept his eyes on Ragna. The man fought through pure perception and gut feeling—yet those gut feelings consistently shifted the momentum in his favor.

This was genuine genius.

The owlbear, for example, had been acutely aware of the incoming strike. Its posture confirmed as much. It was one of those exceptional beasts whose combat intuition was so refined that it made up for a lack of magical ability.

‘Just as certain humans stand above the rest, so do certain monsters.’

The owlbear didn’t try to mask its presence; instead, it braced itself fully to meet Ragna’s blow.

When time is a luxury and a choice must be made in a heartbeat, most act out of ingrained habit. Ragna was expected to strike. The beast, relying on its instincts, had prepared for a slash—but Ragna thrust instead. There wasn’t a moment of doubt.

This hadn’t been a sudden adjustment. He had intended to thrust from the very beginning.

That single decision had likely cornered the creature into a hopeless position. Normally, even if its body was mangled, the beast would have attempted to retaliate—perhaps clawing for an eye if the opportunity arose.

Its extended talons were sharp with the energy of desperation. Had Ragna chosen to slash rather than thrust, those claws might have actually found their mark.

‘Not that it would have mattered; he wouldn’t have been hit.’

But this result was simply more efficient.

The skewered owlbear was shoved backward and collapsed. Its vitals were pierced, and a quick follow-up pulverized its head.

“Why a thrust?”

“It just felt right.”

The response was absurd.

‘It makes sense that Heskal was defeated.’

Heskal had always projected the image that his power came from trickery, but that was a misconception. His true strength lay in the way he built intricate webs of feints—complex strategies hidden behind layers of distraction.

He utilized multifaceted deception, turning even the most obvious fakes into functional tools. If you entered his mental arena, you were like an insect caught in a web—struggling until the end.

But what if the predator was Ragna?

Ragna consistently forced his foes into a corner. His greatsword followed. That was the essence of his combat.

In hindsight, the core principles of the Wavebreaker Sword Style were derived from Ragna’s own methods.

The process differed, but the outcome was identical. One used logic to trap the enemy; Ragna used sheer brilliance.

He felt where the blade needed to be. It was as if he were discovering a path that no one else could see.

A gift from the heavens. A true prodigy.

Unlike the spontaneous reflexes Rem possessed, Ragna’s talent was an entirely different phenomenon.

“You’re a freak,” Enkrid whispered, though his pace never faltered.

Ragna kept his gaze partially averted. While their Will was being conserved, looking directly at Medusa was a risk.

Yet, hearing the remark, Ragna raised his eyes.

It was a slight waste of energy, but he couldn’t let it slide.

“I’m sending that right back at you. Being compared to Rem is an insult, Captain.”

He spoke with deliberate clarity before looking down once more.

“Are you picking a fight?”

“I’m being honest.”

Enkrid gave a small smirk while keeping his senses sharp.

A few cowards from the hunter-village loosed a pair of arrows from the flank before scurrying away. Enkrid snatched them out of the air as they flew.

They lacked power. Without being reinforced by Will, standard projectiles were no threat to him.

Back when Leona Lockfried first entered the city, he had to focus intensely just to avoid a thrown knife. Now, catching arrows was a casual gesture.

His vision, coordination, strength, and reaction speed had all transcended their former limits.

They pressed onward, closing the gap with Medusa. The aura of dread grew heavier with every yard.

The Abyss was home to a multitude of horrors. Among them, only the most devastating were granted names.

Like the Balrog. Like Medusa.

Sssaaaaarrrgh!

Above them, the serpent-hair of Medusa emitted a piercing cry, identical to the Scalers.

‘This is getting dangerous.’

They had held their ground so far, but if the confrontation stretched on, Zaun would fall. It was a simple calculation.

No matter their individual power, if the remaining horde surged toward the heart of Zaun, they couldn’t protect everyone.

‘Even if the leaders and those here survive, if the people of Zaun perish—does the faction even exist?’

A realm without its people is no realm at all.

Consequently, any threat that exerted influence over the entire theater of war had to be eliminated immediately.

Even without a strategist’s mind, anyone looking at the field would arrive at the same conclusion.

Enkrid estimated the distance to Medusa and thought back to the demon he had already felled.

‘The One-Killer could end a life with a single graze.’

But Medusa operated on a different plane.

Even with two elite warriors closing in, this named entity of the Abyss did nothing but project her stone-turning curse.

‘A war of attrition.’

That was Medusa’s specialty. The plating covering her skin looked impenetrable, and her jagged, moss-stained lips were surely hiding a lethal poison.

She also had a tail lurking out of sight behind her.

‘A monster designed for endurance.’

A knight’s worst nightmare.

Her presence smothered the battlefield. Her vitality seemed bottomless. Those who tried to rush the kill would likely be broken instead.

It was a horrific pairing for knights who excelled in explosive, short-duration bouts.

Of course, Enkrid was capable of a different approach. He could play her game.

‘If I make this a long fight, I win.’

After a few days of methodical wearing down, he could kill her.

She could grow back her hair and certain limbs, but not forever.

He could withstand the petrification and evade her strikes.

Eventually, when the gap appeared—a cut here, a stab there—he would bleed her dry.

He didn’t even need to engage her to be sure. His insight showed him that specific future.

Three days, at the most.

But no one else had that luxury. A fight like that demanded an infinite well of Will, stamina, and mental grit.

Furthermore, fighting that way meant losing the war.

In that time, Riley’s power would fail. Anahera and Kato would fall.

The gates of Zaun would be shattered. Even if the front lines held, a breach in the rear would render it all hollow.

A victory that failed to save Zaun was no victory at all.

“Ragna.”

“I’m listening.”

“We finish this with one strike.”

There was no need for a detailed briefing. They would find the rhythm as they moved.

But the roles were set.

“You pave the way.”

He couldn’t ask Ragna to deliver the final blow—not with the injury to his shoulder.

Ragna offered no verbal reply. He simply lifted his greatsword, pointing the steel toward the heavens.

BOOOM!

A bolt of lightning tore through the sky. A flash of white illuminated the horizon.

Zaun was situated in a basin—a dangerous spot for lightning, but a perfect backdrop for a surge in morale.

Enkrid watched the light and regulated his breathing, sliding the Tri-Iron Sword into its sheath. He could no longer contain it.

“Moving out: just two swordsmen.”

Ragna repeated the declaration.

“Moving out: just two swordsmen.”

They would fell the named monster of the Abyss in a single motion. Unlike the battle with the One-Killer, there would be no second chances; failure meant the end.

Was it a reckless play? Perhaps.

But the alternative was a much higher body count.

This was no game. It was lethal. A true roll of the dice.

And that was exactly why…

‘This is exhilarating.’

A wave of pure joy radiated from Enkrid’s core.

It scorched away the grime that had been slowing his body and fogging his mind.

An internal blaze took hold—a heat so intense it seemed to dry the falling rain before it touched him.

The fire consumed the exhaustion, replacing it with a searing, vibrant power.

He was ready.

Ragna moved to the front, shielding Enkrid as they began their sprint.

*** With every stride, Ragna felt the crushing weight of the Abyssal monster. It felt like wading through a marsh. And Medusa wasn’t standing alone.

As soon as he surged forward, two Scalers closed in from the sides like a gale.

Ragna swung in a wide arc—bisecting both of them through their midsections.

Splatter!

Dark ichor sprayed as he gained speed.

TONK!

He propelled himself forward. Enkrid was right behind him.

It still amused him that the captain had the nerve to call him a monster.

Who was he to judge?

‘Neither my mother nor my father ever truly saw him for what he is.’

He recalled the time Enkrid had accidentally trimmed his hair during a sparring session in the baths. That match had a very clear victor.

It had been somewhat lighthearted. But no one else in Zaun had ever challenged Enkrid with such raw intensity.

There was a massive gap between the Enkrid who sparred and the Enkrid who stood on a battlefield.

Ragna knew this better than anyone.

‘When he gets serious…’

He would go beyond him. In the Fairy Forest, he had strained himself to appear as his equal, but in a true life-or-death struggle, he would lose now.

And he thrived on that.

The thunder? The storm? Medusa? None of it mattered. The rush of blood was all that existed.

Ambition woke up. Will exploded. He wanted to witness it.

What would he reveal?

The man who used to be a complaining squad leader had now transcended him.

Genius? Natural talent? Those words meant nothing here.

This was a man who had pushed past the boundaries of talent.

And he never stopped searching for more.

“Have you reached the next level?”

He posed the question in his mind. No verbal confirmation was required. If it was Enkrid, the answer was always yes.

He was a craftsman—shaping the clay of the past, hardening it in the fire of the present, and building a vessel for the future.

What kind of vessel would emerge?

He was desperate to see.

Ragna’s sword was steady. It carved through anything in its way, as if the path were already decided.

WHUANG!

Once they reached a certain point, Medusa’s tail whipped across the terrain and struck.

CRACKKKK!

The very ground trembled. Her armored tail, as lethal as any blade, came flying at him.

I can’t avoid this.

It wasn’t a thought born of logic; it was pure instinct.

If he jumped, the tail would just adjust its trajectory. He couldn’t dodge—he had to intercept it.

If he merely blocked, he’d be trapped in a defensive cycle. But there was no time for contemplation.

His gut told him to hold his ground.

He slammed his blade into the soil.

BAM!

It felt as though a massive marble pillar had fallen on him. And the assault didn’t stop there.

The razor-edged scales sliced his hand through the metal of his gauntlet.

Rrrip—

Leather gave way. Blood flowed—but his bones held firm.

Medusa’s tail pulled back and rose high. At its very end, a sharp, venomous stinger appeared—like a hidden weapon finally being drawn.

If he pulled his sword now, the tail would strike and send him flying backward. He would burn through more Will and strength just trying to get back to where he was.

That was exactly what Medusa intended.

But if he stayed, he would be skewered.

The stinger was aimed directly at his head.

Dodge, and he dies. Stay, and he dies.

Where was the third option?

What was the right move?

Ragna’s instincts provided the answer once again.

He reached back. His fingers gripped the captain’s backup weapon—Penna.

He grabbed it and swung.

It was a basic movement—but one packed with a massive concentration of Will.

Just like when he had cut down Heskal.

Will Conversion.

He achieved it again. Despite only succeeding sixty percent of the time in practice.

Now, Penna erupted with a brilliant, blue-white radiance.

CRRRAKKKK!

With a single slash, the tip of Medusa’s tail was lopped off—sent spinning into the air, still twitching as it fell.

The hidden weapon had been broken.

And then—

Now.

Medusa’s head loomed far above—so high that it would take three men stacked together to meet her eyes.

But with her tail pulled back and the ground cleared, a path had been laid out.

Ragna saw the opening. He knew the captain saw it too.

Words weren’t needed—just as they hadn’t been needed when he passed Penna back.

He dropped his center and braced his legs.

Enkrid planted a foot on his shoulder and launched himself.

It was a delicate step—no jarring weight.

And yet, he shot forward faster than any projectile, running straight up Medusa’s massive frame.

BOOOOM!

An indifferent bolt of lightning crashed down nearby.

The roar of the heavens swallowed the sound of the entire war.