Eternally Regressing Knight-Chapter 533 - Plunder

Chapter 533 - Plunder

Knight Jamal wielded his Will, making the sword in his right hand hum.

Wooong!

The sword vibrated again, resonating with intensity. Enkrid saw the trembling blade create afterimages.

It seemed as if the sword had multiplied into dozens, perhaps hundreds of blades, resembling the rapid wingbeats of a bee. Unless that sword was a chatterbox like Aker, this had to be Knight Jamal's swordsmanship.

"Try taking this one."

Jamal swung his sword. There was no sound of his feet striking the ground nor the blade cutting through the air. When a knight at his level swung a sword with intent it moved beyond ordinary perception.

The speed surpassing limits, silenced even the sound. This phenomenon was called the moment sound dies, a term coined by a bard attempting to describe it. In reality, it was nothing more than a sword swung faster than sound. To the average person, the motion seemed to mismatch the sound entirely.

But for those who dwelled in this realm within the space where sound itself died—it was all the same.

Using foresight, Enkrid anticipated Jamal's attack a step ahead, yet simultaneously realized it was nearly impossible to evade. The trajectory was difficult to avoid. No, it was a strike aimed not to be dodged but to demand a block. It seemed like a move to settle the duel in a single blow rather than through successive strikes.

Dodging would concede the initiative to his opponent.

Enkrid decided to intercept the incoming trajectory, pouring all his strength into an upward slash.

"Deflect it."

The moment his Will took form, it solidified into a weighty force coursing strength through his legs, abdomen and then right arm. The Heart of the Beast naturally came into play.

Boom!

The clash of their weapons produced a thunderous explosion. This time neither moved past the other. Their blades struck and both were forced two steps back.

"You're crude," Jamal remarked.

Enkrid responded with a slight tilt of his chin, signaling you're cruder.

Wooong.

Jamal's sword continued to hum, the vibrations creating consistent waves which in turn enhanced the power within his strikes. Knights harnessed Will to exceed the limits of physical strength.

With waves incorporated into his strikes, Jamal's blade could cleave even refined steel effortlessly. That was the nature of the strength imbued in Jamal's sword.

On the other hand, Enkrid had blocked purely with brute force. The Isolation technique had tempered his body like never before, while the Heart of the Beast amplified the strength within it. This ensured that the force of their clashing blows was nearly equal.

That was why Jamal had called him crude. Though Jamal employed technique, his opponent seemed to rely entirely on raw Will, like a blunt instrument.

Was it wasteful recklessness?

Or was it simply overwhelming natural strength?

"Taking on waves with sheer force?"

As Jamal observed, Enkrid switched his sword to his other hand and shook his right hand to disperse the impact. Seeing this, Jamal immediately thrust his sword forward.

Though his tone was casual, the stabbing motion streaked toward Enkrid's heart like a bolt of light. Blocking a slash with raw power was one thing, but how would he handle a precise thrust?

Ting! Tatatatatatatatata!

Enkrid deflected the thrusts with his sword, parrying each one. But he didn't just stop there. As he deflected his sword twisted and flew toward Jamal's neck like a noose.

Jamal leaned backward pulling his extended sword back while bending at the waist.

The blade narrowly skimmed his chin too fast for even a drop of blood to spill.

The sword, now aimed downward fell toward his abdomen.

Jamal, still bending backward pulled his weapon with greater force.

The length of Jamal's weapon gave him an advantage. He judged that instead of retreating a slash would give him the upper hand.

The instantaneous decision was effective.

Enkrid had to hurl himself sideways to avoid exposing his neck while dodging the thrust aimed at his abdomen.

Whoosh!

Jamal's sword sliced through the air where Enkrid had been moments ago. By then, Enkrid had already shifted a step and a half to the side.

Jamal quickly regained his stance and smiled.

"So you're not just about brute strength, huh?"

Realizing his opponent's skills were formidable Jamal felt a flicker of envy.

How many years had it been since he became a knight?

The man standing before him, who had survived his sword had only recently reached the level of a knight—barely a year, if even that.

Yet both his strength and technique were comparable to Jamal's.

Would Cowin despair if he saw this?

That guy had always been intoxicated by his own talent since childhood.

His arrogance and enjoyment of that talent were also part of his genius.

But judging by raw talent alone the man before Jamal seemed equally exceptional.

A refined blade, Enkrid resembled a sword forged through countless strikes of the hammer, molded and tempered with relentless effort.

Satisfied with talent alone, or carving a path through sheer effort?

Jamal was mistaken, though it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't mere effort; Enkrid had broken through limitations again and again. But Jamal couldn't have known that.

Having reached the level of a knight, who would dare question Enkrid's potential now?

Mistake or not, the reality remained unchanged. Jamal raised his blade once more scrutinizing his opponent.

Waves won't work, huh?

Then what should he try next?

Jamal transitioned to his next move. Though he excelled at waves, it wasn't his specialty.

No matter who his opponent was, Jamal never revealed his full hand immediately. He enjoyed unveiling his techniques one by one.

Barnas disliked this aspect of Jamal's personality, yet this approach aligned perfectly with Jamal's abilities.

Thus, this was Jamal's best effort.

The next move was Orthodox Blade Techniques.

And in this situation, Jamal felt exhilarated.

How long had it been since he experienced such a thrill?

From the moment he first picked up a sword, there were few who could rival him.

The first time he truly felt his life was in danger was when he faced the monster known as Barnas Hurrier.

That man was, in every sense, a beast.

Since then, few opponents had managed to give Jamal even a fraction of that tension.

In recent years, such moments had become rare.

Knights weren't free to roam as they pleased, meaning opportunities to face enemies in combat were limited.

And now, of all things the opponent giving him this long-forgotten sense of exhilaration was a fellow knight.

Jamal outwardly expressed his delight, while Enkrid—the source of his excitement remained calm, his face unreadable.

"I'll be serious now," Jamal said.

With that, he swung his sword once more. It was a straightforward, honest attack devoid of the hesitation of a novice.

The speed was relentless, leaving no time to think.

Fast, and then even faster.

The moment Enkrid perceived the motion of Jamal's blade, he was forced to react.

When Jamal's sword abandoned its subtle tremors for sheer speed, it moved like a streak of light.

Enkrid responded.

He had no choice—failure to react meant death.

When Jamal's blade surged upward and descended, Enkrid parried the strike twisting his sword into a counter-thrust.

Jamal evaded, retaliating with a horizontal slash.

Clang! Ting! Clatter!

Sparks flew between the two, the air between them ablaze.

Anyone capable of following the fight could see that it was impossible to determine who held the upper hand.

Jamal appeared to falter at times but always extended his blade. Stabbing and slashing he made sure their swords collided repeatedly.

Even the trajectory and speed of Jamal's sword, far beyond the threat posed by the ghouls in the gray forest were harrowing.

A blade no ordinary swordsman could hope to evade.

Countless strikes rained down on Enkrid, but he received them all.

Gradually, as Enkrid adapted to Jamal's speed he began to mix his defense with counterattacks.

It was then that Jamal spoke.

"I'll tell you my specialty."

Catching his breath, he continued.

"It's better for you to know and die than to look at me with those resentful, clueless eyes."

Clang!

Their swords collided again, sparks flying in brilliant bursts of blue and red illuminating the space between them.

A searing heat pushed against the sunlight, and the Will coursing between them became an invisible force repelling their surroundings.

The soldiers watching were awestruck, their mouths agape. One unlucky onlooker was struck by a pebble flung by the combat's ferocity crying out in pain.

From an outsider's perspective, it was as if a storm had erupted between the two combatants.

None could discern how the blades moved or in what way they collided—it was beyond comprehension.

Amidst it all, Jamal's voice rang out.

"The name of my sword is Plunder."

Jamal's engraved weapon lacked the overwhelming strength of Oara's blade or the featherlight swiftness of another's. It was a long sword, unremarkable in appearance.

However, the Will imbued within it absorbed and dispersed the Will of his opponents.

In essence:

"With Plunder, I don't tire."

When one grasps Will and ascends to knighthood, the first lesson is understanding one's limits.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

Jamal had learned and pondered those limits, eventually arriving at a single question:

'What if I could take from others?'

The reason for this ability's manifestation? Perhaps it stemmed from a life spent taking what belonged to others.

Jamal had stolen his sibling's position, usurped his father's house and claimed ownership of a noble family despite being born an illegitimate child.

Had he misstepped, he might have been nothing more than a skilled bandit with a knife.

But he had become a knight accustomed to a life of taking. That was Jamal.

At its core, Plunder wasn't a weapon designed to absorb Will entirely; it scattered it instead.

The Will taken from his opponent didn't become his own—Will didn't function that way.

But it gave the illusion of doing so.

Wave Sword techniques, orthodox forms and blinding speed—all of it was a means to this end.

Clashing with his blade drained his opponent. For every unit of Will his enemy expended, they would need three to match his.

'How long can you endure?'

Jamal grinned confidently.

Enkrid, however hadn't been listening to Jamal's words for a while now.

He had taken the insights gained from his consciousness world with Aker and embedded them into his physical training, turning knowledge into instinct.

Now, he simply unleashed it all in real combat repeatedly showing what he had learned.

Why?

'This is maddening.'

It was exhilarating. A type of excitement Enkrid had never felt before.

That joy set his spirit ablaze.

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Many thanks to 47thdemigod for proofreading the Chapter