A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Enkrid only allowed himself to collapse after Kraiss had left.

His legs had no more strength left to support him.

With a heavy thud, he landed on his backside.

The weighty impact traveled up through his muscles.

This is harder than being trapped with a thousand soldiers.

Compared to an entire day of desperate struggles against multiple opponents, this felt far worse.

Of course, it did.

After all, he had only swung his sword once.

But in that fleeting moment, his exhaustion had accumulated to a breaking point.

His vision swam, his mouth was dry.

His body felt completely drained.

His muscles had been emptied of all strength.

And that was separate from the pain of his dislocated shoulders.

Compared to the previous versions of today, the difference was absurd.

The boatman hadn’t been singing about despair, despair for nothing.

He had ranted so much about it that it sometimes felt like he would break into poetry.

Still, Enkrid had endured.

No—more than that, he had dictated the situation itself.

He had reversed the concept of enduring.

By striking first, he had survived the knight’s sword.

In the end, his dislocated shoulders and trembling body were proof that he had won.

Luck.

Luck had played a role.

But far more than that—it had been calculation and effort.

Enkrid started to lie back but was stopped by a hand.

“You should be careful with the furnace.”

It was Shinar.

If he lay back now, his burned back would get worse.

Her palm gently cradled the back of his head.

His hair hadn’t been completely burned, but strands crumbled like graphite powder, falling to the floor.

“This is a rare sight.”@@novelbin@@

Shinar muttered, gazing at the space where the knight had disappeared.

“Yes, it is.”

Enkrid replied, looking in the same direction.

“Monstrous.”