A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 384

"Half a day. From the beginning, my plan was only to buy half a day."

?rang had said that just before the fight. It was the first time Matthew had heard it.

The moment he did, Matthew looked outside. The sun had not yet set. It wasn’t even twilight.

'We have to hold out until evening.'

He expected it to be difficult.

But.

Whoosh.

By twisting his wrist slightly, the tip of the whip moved forward as if it were alive, dancing through the air.

The opponent didn’t even look at it, merely striking near the leather section with an elbow rather than the tip.

A simple flick, yet all the force in the whip vanished, leaving it slack and disrupted. The precise severing of the force transmission rendered it useless.

Matthew felt his momentum completely cut off but clenched his teeth and gathered his strength.

He swung his arm wide, launching the weighted tip of the whip forward again.

Whoosh.

The whip sliced through the air.

In that moment, Enkrid swung his sword.

From above, a vertical strike descended like a bolt of lightning.

Even Matthew could feel the weight of the force behind it.

'If he blocks it, an opening will appear.'

Even a knight-in-training wouldn’t be able to avoid that.

The opponent struck just above the ricasso of Enkrid’s sword, pushing it aside.

Rather than matching strength with strength, he used technique to deflect Enkrid’s force laterally.

Enkrid's body was momentarily thrown off balance. Having gone all out, he momentarily lost his footing.

Yet, instead of regaining his stance, he spun in place, drawing sparks as he thrust forward.

An unconventional move—one he had honed after defeating Aisia.

It was called the Moment’s Will thrust.

Whoosh.

The opponent dodged it as if evading a child’s thrown pebble, merely twisting his waist.

His ease was so effortless that it seemed natural.

Afterward, Enkrid sheathed the embers and gripped Silver with both hands, slashing, stabbing, and stepping in and out of range repeatedly.

Matthew, despite feeling his momentum cut off again and again, kept swinging his whip.

Their ally, wielding a trident, also struck whenever an opportunity arose.

Even if injured, she should have still been formidable.

Yet their opponent didn’t even bother properly dodging her trident.

As if swatting away a bothersome fly, he deflected it with slight twists of his body when it came close or knocked it off course with his sword before it could even reach him.

The same applied to Matthew’s whip—it posed little threat.

The only one holding out was Enkrid.

Which was why Matthew felt despair.

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