A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Enkrid muttered briefly as he moved.

"Esther."

With a tap of his left big toe, he crouched low, lowering his body as much as possible while leaning forward.

In a single swift motion, two daggers skimmed past him, embedding themselves deeply into the inn's back wall.@@novelbin@@

Enkrid drew his sword.

The inn room was too cramped to swing a longsword properly.

The entrance, especially, was blocked by a wall.

His enemies relied on this.

Even if he draws his sword here, how could he possibly strike?

It was as if he could hear their thoughts.

Enkrid pressed down on the scabbard with his left hand, adjusting the angle.

Rather than a horizontal slash, he opted for a vertical one, drawing his sword upward.

With a burst of power, he sliced upward from the man's groin to the middle of his chest.

Schluck!

The sound of slicing through fabric, leather, muscle, and even parts of bone was soft, like a low whisper.

That’s how fast the sword moved.

Enkrid calculated the distance and made sure to cut only as deep as a finger joint.

This is enough to kill a man.

Every adjustment to his sword belt and footing had been meticulously prepared for this single strike.

He was satisfied.

"Ugh, guh!"

The servant groaned, spitting out a short, guttural death cry as blood and intestines spilled from his body. His knees buckled, and he collapsed.

"You bastard!"

The barkeep, who doubled as a thief, shouted as he drew a shortsword.