A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 357: Learning While Teaching

Thud!

Enkrid blocked Andrew’s first strike.

A straightforward vertical slash.

Blade met blade. Enkrid’s gaze locked onto Andrew’s beyond the steel.

His lips were tightly shut, his eyes wide with focus.

Has he improved?

He wasn’t sure yet.

His memory of Andrew’s past skills was vague.

Instead of counterattacking, Enkrid pushed Andrew’s sword away and stepped back.

Andrew immediately thrust his sword forward. Enkrid smoothly deflected it while shifting his footing.

His left foot moved forward.

Andrew didn’t notice.

His sword, drawn back from the thrust, swung diagonally—but it was intercepted by Ember, held in Enkrid’s left hand.

Recently, Enkrid had been training himself to deflect attacks purely by timing and instinct.

It was a motion reminiscent of the swordsmanship of the fae.

A natural extension of the Flowing Blade technique he had learned from Shinar.

It hadn’t fully settled into his body yet.

But the skill gap between him and Andrew was clear.

Deflecting the attack wasn’t difficult.

Andrew’s sword clashed against Ember with a dull thunk, its trajectory breaking apart as the force was redirected.

"Ugh!"

Andrew sucked in a sharp breath, trying to control the wayward blade.

Meanwhile, Enkrid planted his left foot firmly, gripping the ground with his toes.

A subtle shift.

He used it as a pivot.

He pushed his body forward.

He didn’t even need to activate Will for this.

As the space between them closed, his right foot stepped in, shifting his weight.

His body moved as one—his ankles, his waist, his shoulders—all connecting into a seamless motion.

And then his palm struck.

A Balraf-style Martial Strike with an Audin-style Focused Burst layered on top.

He didn’t use his full strength.

Otherwise, Andrew’s insides would have ruptured.

He didn’t add his grip strength to amplify the impact.

Nor did he tighten and release his muscles for extra force.

It was just a clean, controlled strike.

His palm connected with Andrew’s stomach.

Boom!

The impact echoed like a drum being struck.

"Guagh!"

Andrew’s body was sent flying.

His feet lifted off the ground.

Was that too much?

It might have been.

Andrew stumbled back, retching, spitting up bile.

It took him a while to catch his breath.

But—he hadn’t dropped his sword.

He really has improved.

Enkrid watched in silence.

"Andrew!"

Mack rushed forward in a panic.

Once a caretaker, Mack was now a steward.

A change in status required a change in behavior.

Now, he was a retainer serving Andrew.

As the pale-faced Mack hovered anxiously, Andrew waved a hand.

A gesture to say he was fine—though he was still coughing.

"Were you trying to kill him?" Rem asked.

"It wasn’t me," Enkrid replied.

"He’s literally coughing up his lungs."

"He probably just swallowed wrong."

"...That’s your excuse?"

Ragna added his own commentary.

At times like this, the two of them seemed to have an uncanny synergy.

Andrew took a few more deep breaths before waving Mack away.

"I’m fine."

His voice was slightly hoarse, but it wasn’t a critical injury.

It was the equivalent of being hit with a padded hammer.

Though, in this case, the "padded hammer" was the same one Audin had used to strike Enkrid—with just a thin cloth wrapped around it.

"It’d be a shame to end things here. Don’t you agree?"

Andrew exhaled sharply and looked at Enkrid expectantly.

Enkrid saw it immediately.

Andrew had something up his sleeve.

And that intrigued him.

"Fine. Let’s continue."

"Yes, let’s."

Andrew had walked a perilous path to get here.

He adjusted his stance, stepping forward at an angle.

A few more exchanges followed.

Naturally, Enkrid won.

Andrew had tried closing ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) the distance and ramming him with his shoulder.

Enkrid countered it cleanly.

"You’ve picked up some wrestling and martial arts?"

"Remember Audin?"

"The soldier built like a bear?"

"Yeah."

"Did Audin teach you?"

Enkrid wasn’t surprised.

He had always been open to learning from his own soldiers.

Andrew, despite having his techniques broken, felt a sense of relief.

Lately, he hadn’t had anyone who could overwhelm him in a fight.

Ever since surpassing Mack, he hadn’t had an opponent he could spar with freely.

Even as a baron, aligning with Crang’s faction had made him something of an island.

Others formed groups, cliques, and factions.

But he was alone.

He had wanted to test himself against knights or skilled fighters.

Recently, he had felt stuck in his growth.

Enkrid’s appearance was like rain in a drought.

More than relief—it was exhilarating.

"Stay a few more days."

The invitation came naturally.

The five training under Andrew also perked up.

Just watching had been enough to teach them something.

Even if they couldn’t fully grasp it, they knew a true expert when they saw one.

And this expert had ties to their lord.

Even if they could only pick up scraps, it would be worth it.

Enkrid glanced at the five of them.

From what he could tell, they were at a level where they should be spending their days practicing basic swings.

They weren’t ready for techniques.

But should he ignore their enthusiasm?

It brought back an old memory.

A time when he had first come to the capital.

"You want to learn the sword? That’ll be ten gold coins."

The sword instructor had sneered.

A mercenary just below platinum rank, he had boasted that if he had stayed a mercenary, he would have reached platinum.

His arrogance was overwhelming.

But he was skilled.

"Hey, I’ll teach you a move. In exchange, bring that tavern wench to Ban’s house tonight."

A perfect example of skill not equating to character.

Enkrid had refused.

And he had nearly been beaten to death for it.

No—his attacker had intended to kill him.

He had survived by sheer luck.

A passing patrol had intervened.

That stroke of fortune had saved his life.

Looking at these students now, he saw a reflection of his past self.

Of the hunger to learn.

And he could never turn his back on that.

Just as Andrew’s eyes burned with enthusiasm, so did the five trainees.

Enkrid couldn’t ignore it.

"Alright."

"What? You’re staying? Then cook something good. You’re a noble, aren’t you?"

Dunbakel immediately reacted.

The others didn’t seem to care whether they stayed or left.

And so, the decision was made.

Enkrid would stay a few more days.

Out of respect for their passion.

And so, he began immediately.

To honor their enthusiasm, he would respond in kind.

"One thousand downward strikes."

"...What?"

The freckled girl with a ponytail at the front blinked in confusion.

"One thousand one hundred strikes."

Andrew, having experienced Enkrid firsthand, understood.

These were madmen.

He reacted quickly.

"...Do as he says. Begin."

At his command, the students hesitantly raised their practice swords.

As they swung with half-hearted motions, Enkrid spoke again.

Somewhere between instruction and discipline.

A mix of harsh training and genuine guidance.

At least, they would perceive it that way.

"If you’re going to strike, do it with intent to kill. Are you focused? Your stance is weak."

Thwack.

He struck a student’s thigh with the flat of a gladius.

The student yelped in pain.

"Is that really enough to make you scream?"

Enkrid understood what it meant to want to learn but be denied the opportunity.

So he decided to stay.

To give them something meaningful.

Step one: drill the basics.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The harsher the training, the easier their future growth would be.

He knew from experience.

If they lacked resolve?

Then he would give it to them.

Through his hands.

Through his feet.

And through—

"Rem?"

"I’ll help."

Dunbakel, after glancing around, grabbed one of the trainees.

"Hey, is this really the time for your eyes to wander? Should I pluck them out for you?"

She mimicked what she had learned from Rem.

Extending her long nails, she made a show of picking at the air in front of the trainee’s face.

The poor student turned pale.

"C-Captain?"

Andrew had no idea why this was happening.

And he certainly didn’t believe it was out of goodwill.

But at this point, it wasn’t as if he could just tell them to leave.

He glanced over the trainees and then gave up.

If they could endure this torment, they would grow.

They would improve.

Hadn’t he himself changed after getting beaten half to death by that barbarian, Rem?

Thus, Enkrid settled into Andrew’s estate for a time.

***

Every morning, he practiced Isolation Technique, followed by intense training and sparring.

Enkrid maintained his daily routine without deviation.

"Ragna, you’re up. I’ve chosen you."

"As you wish."

Behind the estate, there was a large training ground.

That explained why the house lacked a garden.

It was a good decision. Enkrid was pleased.

The estate’s cook provided meals regularly, and the food wasn’t bad.

Esther, meanwhile, had fallen in love with a wool cushion.

She had shifted into her leopard form and refused to leave it.

Even Odd-Eyes seemed to enjoy his time here.

He strutted between the horses, acting like their leader.

And at night, he pranced among the mares.

A true stallion.

As for Enkrid, his daily life remained unchanged—eating, drinking, training, and fighting.

A few trainees considered running away.

"This kind of opportunity doesn’t come often," Andrew managed to persuade them.

Though his own face was ashen from the training.

He had reason to be.

Since dawn, Enkrid had been putting him through hell.

With his arms trembling from exhaustion, his words carried an undeniable weight of sincerity.

Andrew’s training was no joke.

And it all started with a single comment from Enkrid.

"You’ve gone soft. You’re getting fat."

It was nonsense.

But Andrew had no rebuttal.

He had seen Enkrid’s body when they washed together.

Enkrid’s physique was a weapon.

Especially that third leg.

"What the hell? This is unfair."

The words had slipped out.

"What is?"

"Never mind."

And so, the grueling training continued.

After two days, Rem finally spoke up.

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"Is this really what you should be doing after coming all the way to the capital?"

He knew.

If it were Enkrid, this was exactly what he would be doing.

But still, there had to be a reason for bringing it up.

"Why?"

"Aren’t you going to look around the capital?"

"I was planning to go out later to get some armor."

Ragna added his own thoughts.

Training and sparring were enjoyable enough.

Enkrid thought so, too.

But he respected the opinions of others.

"Ragna, make sure you take a servant with you. Stay within five steps of them at all times."

"That’s cumbersome."

"If you go out now, I might not see you again."

"The city is complex, sure, but I’ve already memorized the roads."

Ragna shook his head, refusing the idea.

"As if."

"Is he insane?"

"Did he hit his head?"

Jaxon, Rem, and Dunbakel chimed in one after another.

"Take the servant."

Enkrid was firm.

Ragna had no choice but to comply.

"I’ll go out for a bit too. What’s the point of coming all this way just to train?"

"Do as you like."

Enkrid planned to leave in a few days.

Jaxon had already gone out on the first day, saying he had business.

Dunbakel, after observing for a while, also decided to move.

"I need to get a new sword."

Her scimitar had been worn down.

It was beyond repair.

Since they were in the capital, there had to be high-quality metal and fine weapons.

She might not be able to forge a new blade, but she could at least find one that suited her hand.

Enkrid doubted he would find a sword better than the one he currently wielded.

Besides, today wasn’t the only opportunity.

For now, it was more important to spend time with these students.

Like him in the past, they were brimming with passion and determination.

"You all live here, so there’s no need for you to go out."

Enkrid sentenced them to their fate.

"Aren’t you going to look around the capital?"

One of the trainees mustered up the courage to ask.

"No."

Enkrid was decisive.

Progress.

He wouldn’t neglect his own training while teaching them.

If anything, it was the opposite.

They say you learn while teaching.

Fundamentals.

He hadn’t forgotten their importance.

Back when he had first come to the capital, he had heard it countless times.

"Fundamentals. You can’t do anything without them."

A strong foundation was necessary to build upon.

And so, Enkrid drilled these five trainees while reaffirming his own lessons.

It was an unexpected stroke of luck.

Teaching them helped him refine his own techniques.

Lately, he had learned Audin’s Focused Burst, Ragna’s fast and heavy strikes, Rem’s ability to wield any weapon, Dunbakel’s full-body flexible swordsmanship, and Teresa’s shield techniques.

He had absorbed so much, yet he hadn’t had time to digest it all.

But did he need to?

His thoughts chased one another in an endless loop.

It was at that moment, just as he was about to lose himself in his musings—

Ping!

His Spatial Awareness triggered.

Without turning his head, he sensed it.

An arrow.

He tracked its path by sound and shifted his body slightly.

Thwack.

The arrow stopped in his hand.

It had come from the top of the wall.

Even in broad daylight, someone stood there brazenly.

A lunatic.

"You. Who the hell are you?"

Enkrid asked.