[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-a-knight-who-eternally-regresses":3,"chapter-a-knight-who-eternally-regresses-a-knight-who-eternally-regresses-chapter-700":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","A Knight Who Eternally Regresses",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":20,"prevChapterSlug":21,"totalChapters":22,"novelImage":23},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":16,"volume":17,"translator":18,"content_hash":19},428557,689,"Chapter 697: False Strike","a-knight-who-eternally-regresses-chapter-700",700,"\u003Cp>“Medusa and Scalers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And probably owlbears and bat-beasts too. He’d seen them on the way here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Monsters gathering and setting their sights on Zaun?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Or maybe something else?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was a deep shadow—too deliberate to ignore—lurking behind all of it. Invisible, but heavy with presence. There was no way monsters could assemble like this unless someone had orchestrated it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The enemy hidden beneath the veil now loomed larger than ever. Like black clouds in the sky, the curtain hiding them was thick, pitch-dark, and out of reach.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Would’ve been easier if Rem were here...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That thought crossed Enkrid’s mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every damn time, it was some sorcery blocking the path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From past encounters, he knew: whenever someone tried weak sorcery in front of Rem, the bastard’s first response was to swing an axe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d once asked out of curiosity why Rem lost his mind whenever sorcery was involved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Lose my mind? That’s not what it is. Call it righteous fury.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And why do you get righteously furious?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Because they suck.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was it. Classic Rem—blunt to the point of offense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after some thought, Enkrid had gone back to ask again:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So you just can’t stand people showing off half-baked tricks in front of you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yeah, that’s it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The frustrating part? Enkrid kind of got it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Am I starting to catch the barbarian madness...?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d wondered about that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If you were a master chef with your own philosophies and standards, and someone shoved a charred piece of meat in your face and called it cuisine, wouldn’t you want to bash their head in?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anyone serious about their craft would feel that way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s a matter of pride.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was essentially what Rem was shouting with every swing: “That’s not how you do sorcery!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What are you doing?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A voice broke through his thoughts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enkrid was lying down in a corner of the training yard, eyes closed. The ground was damp, but laying his cloak down made it decently soft.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sure, a sun-dried surface would’ve been better—but in this weather, that wasn’t happening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He lazily cracked one eye open. It was Grida.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d returned last night after three days away, spoken to him, then gone to her room to wash up and sleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She hadn’t slept deeply. It felt like the family head might burst through the door any moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What were you doing for three days? What did you find out, daughter?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And it wouldn’t be a warm fatherly tone either. \u002FN_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t\u002F As both her father and the family head, he was about as expressive as a fairy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sometimes, he seemed completely devoid of emotion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What if her father had changed into someone she no longer recognized? That fear gnawed at her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if it wasn’t the head of the house—she’d expected someone to confront her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If she was being honest, she’d even hoped they would.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because she wanted to know: Who the hell messed with her family?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had intentionally made her presence known these last three days—left obvious tracks, took no effort to hide her movement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing happened.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one asked. No one challenged her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When she got up that morning, she saw Enkrid lying on the grass like he was sunbathing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no sun, so it wasn’t sunbathing. What would you even call it? Shadow-bathing? Honestly, she just wanted to curse at the sight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Grida asked her question, then instinctively turned her body slightly—someone was approaching from behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is today a rest day?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A voice came from behind. Grida gave a nod. Alexandra acknowledged them with just her eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enkrid answered from where he lay.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d learned over time: rest was just as important as training.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even Zaun practiced this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once every ten days, at minimum, they designated a rest day. That made three full days of rest per month.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their ancestors must’ve realized that swinging swords every day wasn’t the only path to strength.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A tradition passed down for generations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were countless things to learn just by watching.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Swinging a sword daily trains the body—and purges distractions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On rest days, they used that time to reflect, to think, to strategize. Maybe it was the right time to indulge in distractions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was an old tradition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enkrid understood the importance of rest, so he adopted their rest day custom too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meaning: no sparring today.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That didn’t mean skipping basic drills. He had still risen early to review what Audin had taught him and go through his forms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By afternoon, he lay here, collecting and untangling the threads in his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He no longer felt the same impatience that used to drive him to train obsessively. And so—this was possible now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To the untrained eye, it probably still looked like training. But for a regular soldier, even from the Border Guard, this counted as half a rest day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For someone in the Mad Knight Platoon? This was definitely a break.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From Enkrid’s point of view, this was laziness on Ragna’s level.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Those clouds are really dark.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enkrid pointed at the far-off pitch-black mass in the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’re called blackstorm clouds,” Alexandra replied, following the direction of his finger. “This time they look serious.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dark clouds loomed across the sky. Thick and heavy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was more than just shadowing the sun—it was like a second sky made of coal-black stone had formed overhead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That massive storm system was approaching slowly, like a whole world drifting this way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If it starts pouring, it’s going to turn into a full-blown tempest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Alexandra’s tone held concern. Enkrid sat up halfway, glancing past her to the nearby buildings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Are these stone houses built for weather like that?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sturdy construction said it all—proof of how long Zaun had been rooted here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zaun has power. So why don’t they just move?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For example, Heskal often traveled between the three surrounding villages, managing Zaun’s affairs. The terrain was so rough, merchant caravans couldn’t reach them easily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>True, rare herbs and fruits grew in these remote hills—but you could just hire gatherers for that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The intermediary village was basically a hub of smiths and merchants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Still, I like it here,”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heskal once said. He was always the one worried about Zaun’s future.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Lynox?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He liked to call himself a man of romance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No food? Then you live without it. If you need something, just get it when you need it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He and Heskal disagreed. Heskal believed Zaun could grow stronger; Lynox didn’t see a reason to push it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lynox had spent his youth obsessed with swordsmanship—like a madman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now? He’s obsessed with teaching.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But his eye for talent was awful. They said he’d call at least five people a year “the greatest talent I’ve ever seen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once every two months, he declared someone a genius.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just like that mercenary from my village.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That’s how Enkrid had been tricked into picking up a sword.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, Lynox wasn’t exactly wrong. Most of the ones who survived in Zaun were worthy of being called geniuses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were at least five proper knights within Zaun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They say the Mad Knights are extra firepower. So is Zaun.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People might not realize it, but Zaun had its own overwhelming force.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some kids still fell for Lynox’s honeyed words—but by now, most knew to take his compliments with a grain of salt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He understood romance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he had no interest in reality.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His dream was to travel the continent with just one sword.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t you already have six?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll just leave five behind,” he’d say, laughing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What did he and Heskal have in common?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They live to protect Zaun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their methods differed, but the goal was the same.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lynox stayed to find a genius who would surpass him. He said he couldn’t leave until he passed on everything he knew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He believed his job here wasn’t done.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And he was an exceptional warrior—and a fantastic teacher.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wielded six swords, each with a different style. As a sparring partner, he was the most entertaining by far.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His swordplay was beyond rigid classifications—free-flowing, dynamic, unbound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Enkrid’s system, it would be called:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Swordsmanship focused on extreme sensory refinement.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two words defined his style: immediacy and restraint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Reach out—there’s your path. Step forward—that’s your stance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d created over a hundred sword forms. Broken just as many.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He crafted new techniques daily and dismantled others just as quickly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That’s how he earned the nickname:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Six-Armed Destroyer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Direct, isn’t it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From Grida’s categorization, Lynox was an analyst—a researcher of swordsmanship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Skill and category are separate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another lesson learned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just listening to their stories, you’d think trailblazer types made the best warriors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But—whatever your goals, whatever your methods, constant effort leads to mastery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heskal was the same. Like Grida, he was a guardian—someone tasked with protecting the family’s legacy and ensuring its future.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was no less skilled than Lynox.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His style was calm, disciplined, refined.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No gaps. No flaws. A style that sought neither victory nor defeat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He hides his fangs in every fight. Sneaky bastard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was Lynox’s take.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were friends. Rivals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now they worked separately but still shared wine now and then. That alone said enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After exchanging swords with them, Enkrid felt the truth in those bonds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What about the family head?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Solid. Heavy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A man of immense patience—someone who would walk into a dragon’s maw if it served his purpose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unless Enkrid was wrong, that was the impression so far.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Alexandra?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She welcomed and embraced everyone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not with knitting or warm words—but with her sword.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Andante? Been gone for a month on “external duties,” supposedly on the family head’s orders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Too many unanswered questions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enkrid responded simply: if he didn’t know—he’d just ask.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alex... Grida’s been gone for a few days. Why haven’t you asked what she was doing?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>BOOM— Another false strike of lightning lit the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thanks to those black clouds, midday looked like night. For a moment, the world brightened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lightning observed their little gathering—then moved on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This bastard serious? Grida thought. But she only shot him a look that said what nonsense are you spouting now?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Barely kept her expression in check.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s an interesting question,” Alexandra answered smoothly, smiling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enkrid replied just as calmly. His expression didn’t change.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We respect the children’s freedom. They’re grown. There’s no point dragging them in and interrogating them over every little thing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was true. That was Zaun’s nature.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If nothing strange had happened—then yes, that was the right way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While they talked, a few younger Zaun knights peeked around. Mostly younger ones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a rest day. But at that age, your body itches to move.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I thought of a new technique.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One of them crept up and said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enkrid answered flatly,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Isn’t it a rest day?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You tell them, and they still won’t listen,” Alexandra said, tousling the kid’s hair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I said it’s a rest day, didn’t I?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But everyone else is making progress. If I rust while standing still... what if I collapse before I can even try?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A curse—or a sickness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone in Zaun knew it wasn’t really a curse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They all worked to overcome it. Even Millesthia, the old healer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For Enkrid, nothing had changed. Rest, train—same rhythm. Same days, over and over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But for everyone else?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While he acted, they hadn’t been idle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Especially Anne.\u003C\u002Fp>",1880,"2026-05-30T08:28:33.327Z","2026-06-01T04:30:45.896Z",1,"novelbin.me","b3fc7dcff5d52ff1619d4989da2c971fb3549c02965822468ff179e0a2b6f6dd","a-knight-who-eternally-regresses-chapter-801","a-knight-who-eternally-regresses-chapter-699",882,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fa-knight-who-eternally-regresses-cover.jpg"]