A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 367: A Solid Stone is Also Smart

The moonlight illuminated the city brightly.

In other words, a Moonlight Beast could appear at any moment, yet Enkrid did not run.

He simply walked at a steady pace, his steps making a rhythmic tap, tap, tap against the ground.

As he walked, occasionally surveying his surroundings, a few townsfolk lighting the street lamps acknowledged him.

"Where are you headed?"

One of the residents, glancing behind Enkrid, asked.

"A night stroll."

A calm reply.

"It's dangerous, you know."

A familiar exchange.

At some point, they had grown this close. Aisia's eyes flicked between them.

Enkrid murmured nonchalantly,

"He's a fruit vendor. Lately, he’s been troubled over his daughter's marriage. Apparently, she has good looks but a thing for womanizing scoundrels."

"...How did you even find that out?"

"It just came up in conversation."

Acting without hesitation was a trait Aisia herself excelled at.

But even I couldn't do it quite like that.

As they walked ahead, Enkrid spoke up.

"Jaxon."

"If there’s any commotion, I’ll find it immediately."

At that, Aisia glanced at the man called Jaxon.

He was precisely her type. Slanted eyes, a well-defined mouth—just from his looks alone, he had likely broken more than a few hearts.

She also had a fair idea of what he was capable of.

His senses are extraordinary.

For three days, they had eaten, slept, drank, fought, and sparred together.

It had been an intense and rewarding experience for Aisia.

Hadn't Lua Gharne once said something?

"Monsters lurk all around Enkrid."

Since Frokk had seen it with his own eyes, it had to be true.

But experiencing it firsthand? That was something else entirely.

They were all monsters.

If Jaxon's fighting style could be summed up in a single word—

Calculation.

Despite his initial reluctance, Jaxon had eventually drawn his sword several times. While not risking half his life as he had during his duel with Enkrid, he had still fought.

And by crossing swords with him, much had become clear.

Jaxon watched, analyzed, and predicted. He took everything into account and always thought a step ahead.

What enabled him to do this?

His sharp senses.

He saw and heard things differently from the rest.

Becoming a knight-in-training meant honing all five senses.

The path to knighthood was never an easy one.

Aisia, as a knight herself, had undergone similar training.

And yet, Jaxon’s perception was on another level.

"If you want to move first, you must first understand how your opponent will step."

Her mentor’s words resurfaced in her mind.

That was exactly what Jaxon did.

He predicted her sword and moved first.

Her specialty, targeting the sword’s tip, had been completely nullified.

Before she could even execute the technique, his blade was already disrupting her stance.

Either by striking her sword at just the right angle to throw her off balance—

Or by redirecting its trajectory before she could fully commit.

A remarkable talent.

Of course, if she fought him seriously, she would still win.

Though his perception and predictions were outstanding, the force behind his sword wasn’t particularly overwhelming.

Not that a longsword needed overwhelming power to be deadly.

He's manageable.

That was Aisia’s conclusion.

If Jaxon was calculation,

Then Ragna was pure instinct.

The problem was—

This monster of instinct had a way of turning his whims into the right decisions, as if the correct path simply unfolded before him.

That bastard.

The one who had crushed her in battle, forcing her to reflect on her past.

A creature built entirely on talent.

One monster of calculation, another of raw ability.

Aisia had never once been able to defeat Ragna.

"What is that?"

"A fast and heavy sword."

She asked bluntly, and he answered just as bluntly.

A fast and heavy sword.

What a load of crap.

Saying it was easy. Making it reality required an absurd level of talent.

Something beyond Aisia's reach.

She could have been envious.

But if envy had been enough to break her, she would never have made it this far.

"Other people’s bread always looks bigger. But there will always be those with better techniques than you. They’re everywhere."

Her mentor’s words echoed again.

This sparring session had clearly given her a great deal of insight.

Mine is exceptional, too.

Sure, another’s skills might seem enviable.

But the only thing that mattered was finding a way to beat them.

She had no shortage of talent herself.

"If the heart falters, so does the will. If the will falters, so does the sword."

She repeated the words like a mantra, turning her jealousy into fuel for growth.

Then, she looked at Rem.

What the hell is this guy? A lunatic? A genius?

Both.

If Jaxon was calculation and Ragna was a monster of instinct—

Then Rem was—

"How is it? You can’t block it, right?"

Pure fun. A madman who fought for enjoyment.

His techniques had no set form. They were mostly improvisations.

Even when he demonstrated his existing skills, they were just as unpredictable.

Chaotic and violent.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Small injuries meant nothing to him. He simply charged in.

Ragna, too, relied heavily on improvisation.

But their approaches were different.

For Rem, it was all about pleasure. He fought purely for the thrill of it.

Of course, such a style was only possible because of his talent.

But he had also honed it with experience.

A savage who made the impossible seem natural.

That was Rem.

"What do you think?"

His most impressive moment?

When he dismantled Aisia’s sword tip targeting technique.

How to describe it?

An axe blade target? An axe blade cover?

He had used the broad side of his axe blade to obscure the tip of Aisia’s sword.

With that, he killed her momentum. Snuffed it out completely.

A bold and unconventional move.

And when he closed the distance—

It was ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) terrifying.

A reckless fighter was scary enough.

But a crazy one? That was worse.

A mad barbarian who looked like he’d let a sword impale him just for the fun of it.

But was Rem the most fascinating of them all?

No.

Enkrid was still left.

Strange. And then, even stranger.

Unique, utterly unique.

Aisia couldn’t shake the thought as she looked at Enkrid.

"He's like a stone, crafted with immense effort, compressed and hardened over time."

His foundation wasn’t just solid—it was unyielding.

Yet that didn’t mean he lacked flexibility.

His swordplay was the result of countless, tireless repetitions.

Like a clay pot, refined over thousands, tens of thousands of steps, until it became unbreakable.

That was what made it so fascinating.

Most people relied on their natural strengths, building upon their foundation to improve.

They trained, developed techniques, and refined their skills based on what suited them best.

They grew from their talent.

But Enkrid was different.

If he didn’t understand something, he wouldn’t progress.

His path wasn’t one carved by talent.

He had dug through his limitations, piece by piece, forcing his way forward.

He had crashed into his limits, again and again—

Yet each time, he had broken through.

Humans are worn down by their limits.

Their will erodes.

They begin to think of surrender.

Despair takes hold.

"And he overcame all of that?"

No, surely not.

It must be an illusion.

Then how did he make it this far?

That, she simply couldn’t comprehend.

But there was one thing she did know.

Just looking at him, the word relentless came to mind. A determination so fierce it was almost maddening—one that could make a man smile even when he was on the brink of death.

Even during their sparring sessions, Enkrid never stopped training his body.

Aisia had clicked her tongue when she saw Dunbakel, the beastwoman, helping him by slamming a boulder into his side as part of his conditioning.

Even the knightly training regimen didn’t include such methods.

She had once seen monks break stones with their bare hands as an act of discipline. It felt similar to that.

Each time he trained, there was that silent madness in his gaze.

The other beastmen were formidable as well, skilled and gifted in their own right.

But were they truly exceptional?

She wasn’t sure.

One thing was certain—she was curious.

Where did he even find people like this?

Had she known that this group had initially been gathered as a disposable force by the previous Border Guard Captain—who now spent his days currying favor in the royal court—she would have been stunned.

No matter what, though, there was no denying they were fascinating.

As these thoughts settled in her mind, they arrived at an intersection where alleys branched off in all directions.

"This is where we split."

Enkrid spoke from beside her.

The area was shrouded in darkness.

A district bordering the slums—one of the many places where the crime guild thrived.

"Here?"

Aisia asked, frowning.

"Here."

Enkrid confirmed.

"Why?"

"I'll explain as we move."

"Aisia, you’re coming with me. Ragna, you go with Dunbakel. Jaxon and Rem, split up."

It made sense.

Putting those two together would be a disaster.

Aisia had only been around them for a few days, but even she knew that much.

Ragna was the type to get lost even if you just let him wander around the mansion grounds.

"Anyone who loses track is a dumbass, a moron, a brain-dead idiot."

Rem hummed a strange tune with even stranger lyrics as he disappeared into the alleyway.

"Alright then."

Enkrid moved first, stepping into the alleys.

Then, without hesitation, he grabbed onto a wall and climbed up.

Many of the roofs were poorly constructed, woven together from wood and straw, but a few had sturdy layers of plaster.

With space in the city so limited, unless it was a noble district, houses tended to be tightly packed together.

That meant the rooftops were close enough for someone with good balance to run across.

Some of the taller buildings looked like a fall would break a few bones, but Enkrid didn’t go that high.

He settled on a moderately sturdy rooftop.

"Why here?"

Aisia asked again. She was genuinely curious.

This mission had nothing to do with her duties as a knight.

It wasn’t part of her oath either. But a mission was still a mission.

Success was preferable to failure. If left unchecked, more people would die. Ensuring the citizens’ safety required action.

So she asked.

She needed to understand in order to respond properly.

"If you understand its habits, it’s easier to predict its actions."

Enkrid explained.

Aisia found herself nodding instinctively as he continued.

"If it only appears when the moon is out, that means it’s driven by an uncontrollable urge—like madness."

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That made sense.

Madness couldn’t be controlled. And what couldn’t be controlled always left behind traces.

"If it could fully control itself, it wouldn’t be causing such a mess."

That was also logical.

If Aisia had to secretly kill someone, what would she do?

She would pick her target, track their movements—then strike in a secluded area.

Even without assassins' techniques, it would be the most efficient way.

So far, aside from one priest—

The victims had all been commoners.

Once in the slums, three times in the residential district.

Enkrid had figured this out and shared it with her. His investigation had been thorough.

"With all the rain these past few days, its madness would have intensified. If it’s affected by moonlight, then a full moon would drive its impulses even further."

That was reasonable.

It wasn’t a perfect conclusion, but it was plausible.

"If I were afflicted with such madness and aware of it, I would seek out a place far from my own territory to act on my urges."

That meant—

He had already narrowed down the suspect’s location.

A place farthest from the slum residential district?

Aisia’s gaze naturally turned past the moonlit city, toward its center.

Beyond the inner wall, near the royal palace.

That was where lower-ranking nobles who couldn’t stay within the palace resided.

"Uncontrollable urges cause disturbances. If they want to erase suspicion, they need to distance themselves from their territory."

His explanation ended.

Aisia understood.

A chill ran down her spine.

"When did you even put all this together?"

"I’ve been walking around the city for a while now. I just pieced together what I heard."

Why was a hardened stone also so damn smart?

Aisia's eyes held both confusion and admiration.

Enkrid met her gaze, unbothered.

He had simply walked through the markets a few times, collecting bits of information from the people.

Why hadn’t Aisia noticed?

Because she hadn’t cared.

If she had truly taken this matter seriously from the beginning, she could have figured it out too.

But she hadn’t spared much thought for the victims.

The only reason a knight-in-training had even been dispatched was because a squire had been attacked.

Right now, the royal palace was already in chaos from the ongoing internal conflicts. A Moonlight Beast was a secondary concern.

Strange incidents in the capital weren’t uncommon.

Even during the day, the Assassin’s Union operated freely. The city’s law enforcement was in shambles.

No one was going to conduct a proper investigation.

So Enkrid had done it himself.

From the first victim to the most recent ones—

He hadn’t even needed an extensive interrogation. The rumors had already spread like wildfire.

A few words from a fruit vendor.

A few more from a blacksmith.

Another from a gambling den’s guard.

A lumberjack, a timber merchant, a glass trader, a bard, a librarian, a tavern waitress, a noble’s bodyguard—

He had taken all of their words, compiled them, and reached a conclusion.

The most decisive testimony had come from a monk.

"It wore clothes. A coat that looked quite expensive. And that creature... it ignored me, turned its back to the moonlight, and went straight for the priest."

A mind consumed by bloodlust, yet still capable of rational judgment.

That meant predicting its movements wasn’t difficult.

Monsters and beasts acted on instinct.

But a human did not.

A human thought.

And if they thought, their reasoning could be deciphered.

Holy power is a threat, so it must be eliminated first.

Afterward, it must cause chaos somewhere far from its own domain to erase suspicion.

A human who had succumbed to madness would not steal a coat after transforming into a beast.

Which meant it had been wearing it beforehand.

And since no such details had been mentioned in recent sightings, the creature had likely stripped itself before transforming.

Jaxon had speculated it was a Lycanthrope.

Enkrid had reached the same conclusion.

And then—

Oooooooh.

A sound echoed from somewhere in the city.

Like the cry of a night bird, carrying through the wind.

It came from the direction Ragna had gone.

"Let’s go."

Enkrid finally broke into a run.

Aisia followed close behind.