A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Novel - Chapter 797

Chapter 797

Ragna understood that he was nearing the end of his endurance. Maintaining this pace meant certain collapse and death. The situation felt as volatile as a tower of balanced pebbles; a gentle gust or the poke of a child’s finger would be enough to send the whole structure tumbling. If a single person faltered or slipped, Balrog would surely revel in the chaos, signaling their ultimate defeat.

Despite the pressure, Enkrid remained steady. His face showed no emotion, and his eyes remained rolled back in a wild, vacant stare.

*Shluk!*

Moments prior, Ragna’s blade had carved a path through Balrog’s midsection. It was a precise strike. The sensation traveling up the hilt of Sunrise confirmed the impact; he had definitely connected with flesh.

‘But why?’

Ragna had lunged with lethal intent, yet at the point of contact, he sensed Balrog’s consciousness merging with his own. It felt as though the beast had intentionally allowed the blade to enter. That confusion crystallized into a single, unanswered question. However, there was no luxury of time to ponder it.

Balrog wasn’t merely trying to survive; he executed a maneuver no one could have foreseen. There is an old saying about sacrificing skin to take bone, but Balrog was prepared to surrender both if it meant securing a victory. And he followed through.

Even with the gaping hole in his abdomen from Sunrise, he pivoted to crush Enkrid’s leg. The attack utilized a familiar pattern, yet it was the beast’s sheer, cold-blooded decisiveness that made it lethal. Despite his torn muscles and spilling guts, his lower body moved with terrifying accuracy. His foot whipped toward Enkrid’s shin.

In this intricate machine of a battle, if one gear failed, the entire mechanism would seize. Audin was restricted by his own defensive perimeter, and Rem—providing cover from a distance—was in no position to intervene. No one could step in to intercept that strike for Enkrid. Shinar, watching from the periphery, twitched as if to jump in, but her current state made it impossible to bridge the gap.

It seemed certain: Enkrid was about to be crippled. And with that loss of mobility, the fight would reach its grim conclusion.

Enkrid’s twin blades were already occupied, fending off the divided lashes of Surtr and the searing coils of Salamandra. Rather than retracting his weapons, he shifted his weight and raised his leg, meeting Balrog’s kick with his own sole. He balanced precariously on one limb, attempting to dissipate the kinetic energy. Even with his high-level technique, he was on the defensive. It looked as though his bone would inevitably snap under the pressure.

Yet, Enkrid held firm. He even whispered a single word.

“Endure.”

He threw back the very command Balrog had once given him in a previous cycle. From the basic concept of Endure to the fortification of Steel Armor, and finally to Indules—his willpower had taken physical form. If Will could be projected into a blade, it could surely be infused into the flesh. Enkrid drew inspiration from Audin’s Sacred Light Armor, which he had studied relentlessly. While keeping such a technique active for long periods made one’s Will sluggish, it was perfect for a split-second defensive burst.

He met the impact. A direct hit would have pulverized his shin, but by allowing the force to flow through him, he mitigated the damage. The outcome was merely a dull throb in the muscle. He had neutralized Balrog’s power with nothing more than that.

‘A true natural,’ Ragna thought with silent respect. It wasn’t just raw gift; it was the manifestation of countless hours, immense effort, and agonizing experience.

Thus, Enkrid persisted in neutralizing Balrog’s onslaught by any means available. The clash hadn’t lasted long in minutes, but the physical toll of holding the line was evident in the fresh wounds opening across his skin.

*Clang!*

Surtr swung in a massive horizontal arc, intended to cleave the earth. Enkrid intercepted it, but the force shattered Penna, sending its fragments flying. Had the fairy smith who crafted it been present, she would have been devastated. A piece of Enkrid’s cloak was sheared away in the exchange. Blood erupted—not as dark mist, but as vivid red liquid that turned to steam in the heat of the battle. It was a byproduct of their lethal speed, shimmering under the flickering torchlight.

Given the intensity, the following moment wasn’t mere luck; it was a structural necessity—a dividend for their perseverance.

Rem fired three projectiles, weaving Possession and Descent into a singular strike. The first two obliterated Balrog’s newly formed horns, while the third caught him square in the forehead. This wasn’t just suppression anymore; it was a dedicated kill-shot. Up until this point, Rem had paced the shots, but now, three were delivered in a lethal sequence. This hidden technique left Balrog’s limbs spasming and created a massive gap in his defense.

Enkrid, exhausted from blocking, didn’t even realize Rem had intervened. His focus was entirely on Balrog’s next move.

“If we miss this, it’s over.”

There was no room for error. Audin suddenly abandoned his position against the whip and flanked Balrog’s right side. Having fought primarily from the left with strikes and kicks, this sudden shift in positioning was jarring.

*Huaaahng.*

With his right hand, Audin gathered a massive surge of divine power, igniting it into a brilliant, holy blaze. This was a secret art granted by the deity of war—Sanctified Fire. With his palm wreathed in this celestial flame, Audin hacked at Balrog’s leg.

*Sssssssshhh!*

The fire didn’t flicker or spread; it cut clean through, amputating Balrog’s thigh. Despite the loss of a limb, the beast didn’t cry out. Instead, he drove his elbow into Audin’s skull.

*BOOM!*

Audin, having exhausted his reserves on the strike, was sent hurtling backward. It wasn’t a scripted maneuver, but the equilibrium of the fight had finally shattered. Everyone holding the line knew this moment had to come; if they stayed purely on the defensive, they would eventually succumb. Balrog possessed infinite stamina and perfect regeneration. In a war of attrition, they were destined to lose.

Before the elbow could fully connect, Enkrid jammed Dawn Tempering between the combatants. Because of that intervention, Audin’s head remained intact, though he was still sent tumbling across the ground like a skipped stone.

In that opening, Ragna’s Sunrise swept toward Balrog’s chest. The strike felt definitive; everyone present sensed it was a hit that could not be parried. Balrog’s eyes flared with fire. His burning whip lashed out, snaring Ragna’s blade to hinder its progress. Using that split second of resistance, Balrog rotated his torso, tightened his regenerating core, and unleashed a devastating spinning back kick.

‘He’s going to die.’

Time seemed to dilate. A flash of intuition showed the immediate future: Ragna’s death. The trajectory and timing made it impossible to dodge.

However, Enkrid refused to accept that outcome. Still focused on his role as the shield, he pushed past his physical limits. He had just finished parrying Balrog’s downward strike and Surtr with both hands. By all laws of physics, he shouldn’t have been able to intercept the follow-up kick. Yet, Enkrid forced himself into that narrow window of space.

“Stop it.”

His determination ignited a further evolution of his Will. Point Explosion activated, providing a sudden burst of speed to the Will shaped by Indules. In that heartbeat, Enkrid moved at the same speed as the beast. He intercepted the kick meant for Ragna.

*CRACK!*

The collision sent a shockwave through steel and bone. A portion of the kinetic energy grazed Ragna’s torso, but the lethal blow was halted. Ragna’s blade reached the second crystal in Balrog’s chest, causing it to spiderweb with cracks.

*Krrrrack.*

The crystal fractured but didn’t disintegrate. Sunrise had fallen just short of its mark. One more breath, and the tide would turn back in Balrog’s favor.

Enkrid’s gaze remained unwavering. Ragna slumped over, his Will completely spent. In the distance, Rem fell to his knees, suffering the backlash of using prohibited arts. Audin struggled to lift his head from the dirt.

Despite the exhaustion, every one of them would find a way to stand again, even if it meant tearing their own hearts apart for energy. They were incapable of surrendering. That was the philosophy their leader had etched into them through his actions. While they had taught Enkrid their various styles and techniques, they had learned just as much from his example.

In the tiny gap between heartbeats—a moment where even Balrog was vulnerable—the final player moved. An assassin, who had remained perfectly concealed, finally struck. Just as Balrog had once emerged from a shadow, Jaxon manifested from the beast’s own silhouette. He drove his blade into one of the remaining crystals on Balrog’s chest.

From behind, in a lethal embrace, his reverse-gripped dagger shattered the gem. Jaxon immediately attempted to slice outward, but Balrog’s wings snapped inward, morphing into a jagged spear. The wing-spear lunged for Jaxon’s throat from a blind angle. It was a counter-move that defied logic, aimed at an attack that defied detection.

—

“Block.”

Enkrid was consumed by that singular mandate. He visualized the lines of attack, foresaw the impact, used his perception to find the path, and blocked.

“Block.”

The desperate need to protect fueled the refinement of his Will into Indules. Yet, it still felt insufficient. What was the next step? There was no time for contemplation. A failure to act meant another life lost.

Perhaps it was a trick of the mind or a whim of the golden-haired Ferryman he had once encountered, but a voice seemed to resonate in his mind.

“Fight as though it were the very first time.”

The words became a mantra within his chest. He had lived this day many times, fighting and blocking on a loop, but understanding a concept and manifesting it were two different things. Now, Enkrid pulled that elusive feeling into the physical world.

“The total of all skill. The person is the one who directs the blade.”

To truly block everything meant ensuring the safety of those behind him. His resolve flared, sparking a new transformation.

“Block.”

As he recommitted, a new path of action became clear. Even before Jaxon had appeared, Enkrid had already lunged into Balrog’s personal space. Jaxon was about to be impaled by the wings, and Balrog still had his limbs available to crush any smaller nuisance.

Balrog drove an elbow toward Enkrid, the tip of the joint humming with compressed, invisible power. Just before it landed, Enkrid flipped his grip on Dawn Tempering and slammed the pommel into the center of Balrog’s arm. Simultaneously, Jaxon threw the horn-hilted dagger he despised, skewering the middle of the attacking wing. The wing’s momentum stalled, giving Jaxon the window he needed to back away safely.

“If predicting the line isn’t enough…”

Then he had to disrupt the source. To do that, he had to stay in the pocket, fighting at point-blank range. Enkrid’s eyes burned with a manic joy; he was experiencing the thrill of breaking his own boundaries.

“Extinguishing the Embers.”

This was a new branch of the Wavebreaker Sword Style. He used his insight to snuff out the attack before it even began, like pinching a wick before the flame could take hold.

Balrog attempted a kick. Enkrid used the beast’s own thigh as a stepping stone, climbing upward to jam a palm into his jaw. Every time Balrog tried to combine a kick or a headbutt, Enkrid was there to cut the motion short. One was trying to slaughter; the other was determined to prevent it. They were locked in a lethal choreography. Enkrid poured every ounce of his being into neutralizing the origin points of Balrog’s movements.

Balrog’s movements were stymied, so he resorted to a feint. He made a show of targeting Enkrid before suddenly lunging toward Ragna, who was still recovering from his last swing. Surtr shot forward in a flawless, elegant thrust—a masterclass in swordsmanship performed even while Enkrid was literally standing on his leg. It was a feat of impossible balance.

There was no genuine desire to kill Ragna; Balrog was simply weaponizing Enkrid’s protective nature against him. Once more, Enkrid had to push beyond his limits. Even if it meant shattering the flow of time or sacrificing his own flesh, he would do what was necessary.

Indules. The Will he had compressed into his body no longer felt like a heavy burden; it felt as light as a feather. His weightless form synchronized with Dawn Tempering, and the sword lashed out.

*THANG!*

Surtr was knocked off course, deflected by Dawn Tempering. But Balrog feinted once more. He deliberately released his grip on his sword—a calculated ruse. With his hands now free, he brought them together in a massive clap, intending to pulp Enkrid’s head between his palms.

In that microscopic sliver of time, Enkrid’s perception accelerated.

‘Why couldn’t I stop the origin of that move?’

It had been a sword thrust; he should have been able to sever the intent. But he had failed. His mind raced even faster.

‘Because he discarded the weapon.’

By letting go of the sword, Balrog had regained the use of his hands. The beast’s entire frame was a weapon. This realization, born of pure instinct, struck him like a bolt of lightning. To parry Surtr, Enkrid had also let go of Dawn Tempering.

He threw his arms up to protect his skull. There was no time to harden his Will back into its stone-like state.

*Crunch!*

He did his best to absorb the impact and stayed upright. Then, he lashed out with his leg. After a lifetime of blocking and enduring, this was Enkrid’s first true counterstrike. It was a kick that came from outside any predictable line or insight. His foot slammed into Balrog’s jaw.

It was a technique he had mastered through the pain inflicted by Balrog himself.

“This is the end.”

He was completely drained. Balrog’s crystal was damaged, but one remained intact. Unless every gem was destroyed, the beast would simply knit his broken neck back together and continue. Was this the stopping point?

His spirit wouldn’t allow it. That stubborn defiance forced Enkrid to move his leg again. As he kicked, he also redirected Balrog’s left wrist—now tipped with razor-sharp claws—upward. Even if it seemed futile, he did it anyway. Even as a final, desperate act of defiance, he refused to stop.

Then, Enkrid caught the sound of a fairy’s voice in his ear.

“Impressive, my fiancé.”

Finally, the green blur that had been observing from the sidelines made its move. With the same stealth as Jaxon, the one who had waited for the perfect moment stepped forward. She pressed a hand to the earth beside Enkrid and launched her leg. Her foot was honed to a point, resembling a spear crafted from a leaf.

*WHAM!*

Just as Enkrid had shattered his ceiling, Balrog had finally reached the very limit of his power. The fairy’s inverted kick functioned like a spear, piercing and shattering the final crystal.

*CLANG—*

Dark fragments rained through the air. And through the noise, her voice rang clear:

“This is for hitting my fiancé—consider us even.”