A Knight Who Eternally Regresses-Chapter 375: Aisia

Why is Aisia here?

The moment Enkrid faced her, several facts surfaced in his mind. He didn't even have to think about it—they came to him naturally.

A magistrate.

Why had she come to him?

Jealousy was part of it, but more than that, she saw this as the right opportunity. She must have judged that he was guilty.

And the crime? Killing Viscount Bentra. But Aisia, a semi-knight, could have been a witness to that. If she had intervened, it might never have happened.

Yet, it did.

Aisia didn’t stop it.

If she had come to him, then the marquis must have been involved.

So whose side was the Marquis of Octo on?

No, had the Order of Knights turned against him?

Could that be possible?

An order without knights—Aisia had mentioned that only a few semi-knights remained in the capital.

A tangle of complicated thoughts unraveled in his mind, a mess of strings like a ball of thread children had played with.

Enkrid decisively cut through it. He couldn't act like Kraiss. He didn’t need to.

The person who could answer him was standing right in front of him.

"Why?"

Enkrid spoke. A short but weighty question.

Aisia raised her sword. The thin, straight blade stood at the boundary between darkness and light. She responded.

"This is as far as you go. Turn back."

There was no emotion in her eyes. It felt as if a single sword stood before him, not a person.

The distant clang of metal and the shouts from outside faded into the background. It was as if a stage had been set in the corridor, with only two actors meeting in the spotlight.

Enkrid drew Silver.

Shrrring.

The chillingly crisp sound of the blade sliding free from its steel-rimmed scabbard echoed. The silver longsword revealed itself as if boasting its presence.

Enkrid gripped the sword with both hands and steadied his breath.

Sunlight seeped in through the window—left for him, right for Aisia. The light that passed through the glass cast a long, dividing line between them.

"Step aside," Aisia said again.

It sounded like a plea.

"Why?"

He asked, already knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. He didn't have enough information to piece it together. And Aisia didn’t seem like she would willingly explain.

Without the slightest hint of a smile, she simply looked at him.

There was no killing intent, no battle spirit in her stance. She merely stood there, as if she were an inanimate object.

On one side of the hallway sat rare porcelain, something only found in the south. Her presence felt no different from that porcelain. She seemed as still as a painting.

Enkrid adjusted his grip on his sword.

Aisia, seeing this, spoke.

"You’re drinking your punishment."

"It's a hobby."

Enkrid replied out of habit.

Even at that, Aisia’s expression didn’t waver. Instead, her presence shifted—an oppressive force emanated from her.

It was pressure.

Suddenly, to Enkrid’s eyes, a solid wall formed in front of Aisia.

But the nature of this pressure was not merely a threat to cut down anything that approached. It was her sheer will, carved into the very air—an unyielding determination to never back down.

An unbreakable wall.

A wall with no visible end, impossible to scale, as strong as steel.

But Enkrid was the kind of man who relished leaping over or digging through such walls.

Ting.

He extended his sword to measure the distance between them.

The tip of Silver tapped the right wall. He retracted it, then gripped the hilt with both hands and raised it above his head.

The hallway was narrow in width but lacked nothing in height.

If they fought here, the paintings, the southern porcelain, the expensive vases—they would all be destroyed.

But that wasn’t his concern right now.

Enkrid once again steadied his breath.

His opponent was reading his breathing.

Neither Aisia nor Enkrid moved first.

They measured each other’s breaths and gauged their timing.

It was something they had done countless times before. They had dueled more than twenty times.

The line of light dividing them grew longer.

Above them, on the central wall, three swords were crossed and displayed.

Above those swords, a shield shaped like a sun tree adorned the decorative mount.

Among the three, the one positioned at the very center was mounted vertically, its tip closest to the ground.

Naturally, as the line of light stretched, the sunlight passing through the window touched the tip of that central blade. Though unsharpened, its polished surface reflected the light.

Flash.

The moment the light glinted—

Enkrid kicked off the ground.

Boom!

There was no time to hold back his strength, nor the luxury to do so.

He charged forward with all his might, slashing downward with his sword.

As Enkrid surged forward, Aisia reacted.

Her sword shot out straight ahead. Faster than any arrow.

Enkrid’s blade came crashing down. Aisia’s sword and Silver collided.

Clang! Crack!

Enkrid swung with raw power, aiming to crush through the barrier, while Aisia twisted her wrist, altering the trajectory of Silver’s descent.

A perfected redirection maneuver dissipated Enkrid’s force.

Not one to be overpowered, Enkrid stepped back, conserving his strength. He let the blade follow its redirected path naturally.

Always prepared to reinforce his next strike.

As a result, a long mark was etched beneath the left-side window.

Even though his attack had been like a lightning strike, she had deflected it.

Aisia immediately lifted her sword, then lowered it slowly, pointing the tip at Enkrid.

Aimed blade.

Her specialty. Her signature move.

Yet it wasn’t quite the same as he remembered.

Hadn’t Rem already said it?

"That’s not all there is to it."

It was something he sensed.

No, it was the culmination of countless battles and talent—an ability to see beyond what his opponent presented.

It was a realm Enkrid himself could not reach.

Did that make it a problem?

Not at all.

The tip of the sword aimed at him. In this world, only that sword tip and himself remained. That was Aisia’s aimed blade.

A phantom blade, a deceptive sword.

But Enkrid already knew the answer to overcoming it.

Ragna, Rem, and Jaxon had each shown him the way multiple times.

Rem had used an axe to obstruct the blade aiming at him.

Ragna had ignored it entirely. With sheer determination to cut down anything in his path, he erased the obstacle.

Jaxon had preemptively struck the blade again and again before the technique could even take form.

All three were correct.

But none of them suited Enkrid.

Ever since he had imbued a fraction of Will into his body, he had known—

It only matters if I solve it my own way.

One must step on the path and walk. If the foot lands in empty air, there is no walking. Simply lifting one's foot in place does not mean one is moving forward.

To truly advance, one must make the process their own. That is the essence of stepping onto the road, pressing down on the dirt, and pushing through the sand.

Rem, Ragna, and Jaxon had their own ways. Enkrid needed to find his.

He never expected to achieve it all at once.

He was not a genius. He knew that well now.

"You're a genius."

A mercenary had once told him that when he was young. But those words no longer lingered in his heart.

Instead, what remained was the sword. The dream.

What had mended his torn-apart dream?

The sword.

Even back when he had regretted Aisia leaving, he had thought—at least two hundred more duels.

Why was Aisia blocking his path? He didn’t know.

That he was on his way # Nоvеlight # to save Crang and couldn’t afford to be delayed? That, he knew.

But Enkrid felt no urgency.

If he had let every little thing shake him, he would never have endured holding the sword until now.

So, he chose to do what he had to do. No—he decided to immerse himself completely in this moment.

If she blocked him, he would cross over. If she stood in his way, he would break through.

In a fleeting instant, Enkrid processed his thoughts, came to a conclusion, and drew out the blade of his decision.

There was something he had wanted to try if he ever crossed swords with Aisia again.

His own way.

Enkrid closed his eyes.

If sight was the problem, then what if he simply did not see?

“...You’re truly insane.”

For the first time, something resembling emotion seeped into Aisia’s voice—something that had remained still as an object until now.

Even she could not help but be startled by this.

She had endured his comment about drinking his punishment without a reaction, but this—this was difficult to ignore.

"He closed his eyes?"

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Fighting with his eyes shut? Could any sane human do such a thing?

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Even when his eyes were open, Aisia had always won. Whether he wagered half his life or risked it all, the result of their duels had always been the same.

And yet, just because the sight of a sword tip blocked his vision, he shut his eyes?

"Are you underestimating me? Or is this some sort of special training?"

Aisia fired off her words in succession.

From them, Enkrid sensed something—she wasn’t here by her own will.

If she had truly wanted to be here, she would have spoken with her sword, not with words.

That was how it had always been between them.

But it was none of his concern. Enkrid reveled in this moment. He savored it.

And so, facing Aisia thrilled him enough to make him smile.

With his eyes closed, he sharpened his hearing—made his ears his new eyes.

"When one polishes their sensory technique, they can see without seeing."

Jaxon had said that countless times.

His subordinates had demonstrated it.

They could perceive the movements of people standing behind them without turning their heads.

Audin had claimed he could sense the ripples in the air.

"It's all about instinct."

Rem had called it pure intuition.

And Ragna had scoffed—why even bother knowing what was happening behind you?

"Just cut through whatever stands in your way."

That was the Ragna way.

Jaxon, of course, had his own perspective.

"The ripples in the air are felt through touch, while sound is heard through the ears."

Distinguishing and interpreting the smallest of sounds was the foundation of sensory technique.

They all spoke of similar concepts, just in different ways, having grasped them in their own unique manners.

Enkrid, too, had refined his senses over time—so much so that his intuition had sharpened into a blade of evasion.

Using that foundation, Enkrid moved with his eyes closed.

And to put it simply—

The lunatic smiling with his eyes shut was the first to attack.

"This crazy bastard."

Aisia spat the words like a curse, yet laced within them was a sliver of respect.

Enkrid’s first strike was guided by memory.

He remembered Aisia’s position.

He had heard her voice.

And in that moment, he unleashed his Will.

Boom!

The ground beneath him cracked and burst apart. Dust and stone particles erupted from beneath the carpet.

Enkrid swung his sword with full force. There was no holding back just because the opponent was someone he knew.

***

Aisia could not let Enkrid pass.

There was one reason above all.

"If you get past me, you will die."

Even if she let him go, it wouldn't mean he would survive.

And so, she stood her ground.

Whether she came here willingly, was coerced, or had no choice but to be here—

"That doesn’t matter right now."

Right now, before her, was someone who was colliding against her with all his might.

With his eyes closed, he split time into fractions and closed the distance. Enkrid’s sword drove downward without hesitation.

Aisia countered at the same speed. She did not suppress her pressure.

In fact, his swordplay seemed even faster than when his eyes were open.

She held her thin sword horizontally and deflected upward. Twisting her ankle, she dispersed the force.

She redirected the power of his strike with the delicate blade of her rapier. Blocking would have been too slow. Instead, she captured the exact moment of impact and twisted it off course.

That was how she fought.

Her rapier moved like fluttering fabric.

Tring!

For the sheer force behind the attack, the sound that followed was strangely soft.

Enkrid’s descending blade veered aside. Aisia loosened her grip for a split second, then tightened it again.

In that moment, the muscles inside the leather bracer wrapped around her forearm tensed—gathering power.

She thrust forward.

Whoosh.

Before the blade even reached him, the force of the thrust hit first. The sheer presence and pressure sent a shiver through the fine hairs on Enkrid’s body.

There was no time for him to recover his downward strike.

Instead—his left hand gripped Silver, while his right hand reached for the sword at his right hip.

He drew it in reverse grip and blocked.

Clang!

The tip of Aisia’s rapier struck the gladius Enkrid had drawn.

With precise timing and controlled force, the rapier’s thrust was transferred into the gladius.

For a brief moment, Enkrid's feet lifted off the ground.

"She’s stronger."

Even Aisia knew it. Enkrid’s raw strength was terrifying.

If he landed even one clean hit, the damage would be severe.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

She would never let herself be struck by such a dull blade.

Especially not when he was fighting with his eyes closed, his precision compromised.

Enkrid, retreating through the air, opened his eyes.

Aisia once again aimed her sword at him.

She could fight like this all day.

Endless combat was a core part of the knights’ advanced training.

And she had, of course, completed that training.

As for Enkrid—

"One more time."

He grinned.