A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Rem stood still, silently watching the man and the horse.

What was this supposed to be?

Petting a beast that was practically a monster?

”Isn’t it going to bite?”

Even if it did, it wasn’t like Enkrid would quietly let it happen, so Rem wasn’t too concerned.

Enkrid’s hand rested on the horse’s head, stroking it gently. The horse stood motionless, letting him.

Watching the whole process, Rem found it absurd.

That horse was undoubtedly tainted with a monster’s blood.

Even without any magical senses, it was obvious—its sharp fangs, the faint aura of killing intent wafting from its body.

Everything about it screamed danger.

And yet, here was Enkrid, patting the creature’s head, saying:

“You’ve been through a lot.”

Was he soothing it?

Rem stared, wondering if this was some bizarre attempt at forming a bond.

Could a creature in the midst of turning into a monster even listen? And not bite?

Why wasn’t Enkrid cutting it down? Did he really think the horse could hold out against its transformation forever?

Rem didn’t know. This was the first time he’d seen an animal resisting the effects of monster blood.

Still, he watched.

After all, his leader was always an unconventional man, and this half-transformed beast was unlike anything he’d encountered before.

While Rem observed this odd display of connection between man and beast, Audin sought answers from the divine.

”Father, I ask you—could this creature be fighting its destiny as well?”

Audin was more awestruck than anyone else present.

What is destiny? A predetermined path? Something immutable?

There had been times when he believed so.

When he first donned the robes of an inquisitor, when he looked into the eyes of those condemned by his own hand, when he heard a high priest declare:

“It is their fate! The destiny decreed by our Father!”

Even then, Audin hadn’t truly believed it. But he couldn’t break the shackles of that supposed destiny either.

”Father, what should I do?”

He had prayed beneath the burning sun, reciting sacred hymns, all while harboring doubt.

And then, he had met someone who shattered that doubt—Enkrid.

Knowing him had shaken Audin to his core but also given him the strength to move forward.

And now, here stood a man and a beast, both defying what others called the immutable truth.

“In the name of the Father, by His will, I dedicate my life.”

Audin’s chant flowed from his lips. Divine power stirred, bringing with it a splitting headache, but he smiled through the pain, continuing his hymn.

Teresa, hearing his voice, unconsciously listened.

It was warm, like sunlight—a stark contrast to anything she had ever felt during her time with the cult.

“A song.”

The deep resonance of his voice seemed to strike her heart.

As Teresa watched Enkrid and the horse, with Audin’s hymn in her ears, a strange vibration coursed through her chest.

She found herself reflecting on her life—her birth in the cult, her rebirth after escaping it.

What should she live for now?

She had resolved to live for battle, for struggle.

She had thought that was enough.

But no—a hollow feeling stirred within her, like a void had opened near her heart.

Yet, it didn’t bring sadness or despair.

“The Father says: What is full and what is empty are all within oneself.”

Audin’s hymn ended with a verse from the scriptures.

Those words struck a chord with Teresa.

Meanwhile, Jaxon silently observed.

What is this horse? And what is the commander doing?

An errant thought crept into his mind.

”Is he taming beasts now too? Fitting for someone nicknamed the Mad Commander.”

Jaxon continued to watch.

A simple hand resting on a horse’s head had left a mark on everyone present.

Enkrid, too, felt a strange sense of connection—a peculiar resonance.

Why can’t I look away?

This horse, this half-transformed beast, had completely captured his attention.

Why? Was it because it resisted its transformation? Perhaps.

Enkrid saw a reflection of his own past in it.

He suddenly thought of Esther—the leopard-like creature who could shift into human form. At first, he’d only seen her as a beast.

Their first bond had been formed through saving each other’s lives and sharing stories.

But now?

There had been no such exchange with this wild horse.

And yet, he felt something akin to affection for it.

Still stroking its head, he observed the horse as it lowered its head slightly. It didn’t seem to enjoy his touch, but neither did it shy away.

Its blue eye was clear and resolute, while its red eye flickered like an unstable flame.

Enkrid spoke, not with his mind but with his heart.

“Will you come with me?”

Snort.

The horse pawed at the ground, as if it understood. It seemed like a gesture of agreement.

There was no story between them, no shared history.

They had simply crossed paths and acknowledged each other.

Enkrid had encountered a beast resisting its monstrous transformation.

And the horse had met an unusual human who refused to kill it.

“Are you really taking that with you?” Rem finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Enkrid replied, his tone matter-of-fact. He stroked the horse’s mane once more before turning his body entirely.

Behind him stood the wild horse, more monster than beast, yet Enkrid’s movements were relaxed, filled with an unshakable certainty that it wouldn’t attack.

“Damn... this is actually impressive,” muttered Rem, clearly astonished. If even he found it strange, the others must have been utterly speechless.

“The scriptures say, ‘Though it may be a lowly creature, does it not harbor something within its heart? Love life as you would grieve for it, as much as you would kill it.’”

Audin’s voice carried the calm authority of a war god’s apostle.

Jaxon merely looked on, his face blank.

Teresa, on the other hand, seemed... emotional? There was a faint sheen in her eyes, even visible beneath her mask.

What’s her problem now? Enkrid wondered silently.

He tapped the horse on its head and said, “It’d be good to have you with me, but I need to retrieve a body first if I’m going to arrange something resembling a funeral.”

He was, of course, referring to Dunbakel. The wild horse was a separate matter entirely.

Enkrid hadn’t forgotten Dunbakel.

“You’re assuming she’s dead already?” Rem said with a snort before unsheathing his axe and adding, “If she isn’t dead yet, she’ll die by my hand.”

Was that confidence? Hope? It was hard to tell. Rem was annoyingly good at hiding his true feelings.

“The forest is vast,” Enkrid remarked, implying that even if she were alive, finding her wouldn’t be easy.

“If she’s alive, finding her won’t be a problem,” Rem countered before inhaling deeply. His chest seemed to expand to twice its normal size.

As Enkrid watched curiously, Jaxon raised his hands to cover his ears.

Enkrid moved to shield the horse’s ears, but the beast stepped back, almost as if to say, I’ll be fine.

Recognizing the creature’s resilience, Enkrid quickly covered his own ears instead.

And then it came.

“YOU DUMB, STUPID BEAST-WOMAN!”

Rem’s bellow ripped through the air like a thunderclap.

It was an absurdly loud roar, almost a skill unto itself. The forest quivered as if struck by an earthquake.

Whinny!

Despite its intelligence and preparation, the horse stumbled slightly at the sound. A flock of winter sparrows, startled by the noise, scattered into the sky.

Caw!

Far off, the cry of a crow echoed back, as if telling Rem to shut up.

Even with his ears covered, Enkrid felt a sharp vibration in his skull. “You brute,” he muttered.

Jaxon, who was arguably the most sensitive to sound among them, frowned deeply. “You could’ve warned us.”

“You should’ve figured it out,” Rem retorted nonchalantly.

“And?” Enkrid prompted.

“Simple. Walk around the forest shouting like this, and she’ll come out eventually.”

It wasn’t the worst idea, Enkrid conceded.

More importantly: “Ragna will find his way back too.”

The swordsman, who was utterly hopeless at anything but swinging a blade, would undoubtedly stumble his way toward the noise.

“Let’s go find that stupid beast-woman,” Rem said, axe resting on his shoulder. Enkrid nodded in agreement.

With the leader of the monsters dead, it was time for the next task.

As Enkrid turned to leave, the wild horse didn’t follow but instead stood still, staring at him.

“Not coming along?” Enkrid asked, speaking as though the horse were human.

It was strange, but the moment he’d laid his hand on its head, a connection of sorts had formed. He believed the horse would understand his intent, even if not his words.

Snort.

The horse shook its head, stomping the ground a few times before turning to face the distance.

The stomping seemed to convey, I’ll wait here.

Its gaze toward the distance held some other meaning.

The forest’s edge blended into the plains, where winter had turned the grass a dull brown. Beyond lay the wide-open plainlands, where a herd of wild horses roamed.

There weren’t just a few—they numbered in the dozens.

It made sense in hindsight.

On a continent rife with monsters and magical beasts, survival often required forming herds, communities, or settlements. Even humans clustered together in villages or territories, protected by defensive walls.

For wild horses to band together was only natural.

But then what was this half-transformed creature’s role within its herd?

“Were you the leader?” Enkrid asked.

Enkrid considered the horse one last time. Was it staying behind for its subordinates? For the herd it had left back there, its family?

It didn’t seem like it.

Then why?

Thud, thud.

The horse stomped the ground again, but its intent remained a mystery. Enkrid decided he’d have to come back after finding Dunbakel and returning to Martai.

“Wait here. My subordinates come first.”

His words seemed to register with the half-transformed beast. It stopped moving, as if waiting was exactly what it intended to do.

”First, we find Ragna,” Enkrid thought.

Afterward, they could search for Dunbakel.

“Rem, shout again.”

Without hesitation, Rem inhaled deeply, his chest expanding. Then, he bellowed into the forest:

“YOU PATHETIC, LOST HALFWIT!”

It was deliberate, no doubt.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just call his name?” Enkrid suggested.

“Nope.”

Apparently, it was his way. Enkrid didn’t press further. Ragna wasn’t hard to find.

The shouting drew in a few dim-witted gnoll-like beastmen, who charged recklessly toward them, only to meet their end before they even got close. Teresa’s blade made short work of them, slicing through their bodies like winter snow melting under sunlight.

Caw!

The screech of another beast echoed as it lunged at her. Teresa intercepted it with her shield, then brought her sword down, splitting its torso. The remains left a gruesome mess on the forest floor.

Another beast leapt at her, only to be sent flying by her shield, impaling itself on a jagged branch. Even then, it thrashed and screeched until Teresa cleaved it vertically, silencing it for good.

Her giant’s blood lent her strength, making her strikes powerful enough to obliterate the beastmen with shield, blade, or even brute force. The attacks had started with one or two beasts but soon drew more.

But even the most mindless monsters wouldn’t keep charging into certain death, would they? Fear should have stopped them.

Why?

The answer soon became apparent.

“I took a shortcut,” came Ragna’s voice.

He emerged, splattered with blood, holding his helmet in one hand and a sword dripping black ichor in the other. His armor bore no signs of damage.

Ragna looked completely unscathed.

It seemed that the fleeing beastmen had stumbled upon him, only to be cut down. Their desperate flight had brought them straight toward the others.

“Dumbass, goat-dung-eating bastard, dog’s scrotum of a swordsman—lost your way again, did you?” Rem greeted him with a stream of colorful insults.

Ragna responded by swinging his sword in Rem’s direction.

Rem, having already drawn his axe, intercepted the strike.

Clang!

Steel met steel as their weapons collided. It wasn’t just a greeting—it carried a sharp edge of tension.

“Should I dig your grave while you’re lost?” Rem growled, twisting his mouth into a smirk.

The air between the two grew heated. Ragna wasn’t the type to back down, and neither was Rem.

Why were they so on edge?

Enkrid knew the answer.

“Isn’t it because you’re not looking for Dunbakel?” he said flatly.

Rem had a surprising tendency to care for those under his command, especially those he saw potential in. The way he ran around the battlefield saving lives often went unnoticed—mostly because he tended to beat those same recruits half to death during training.

“Crazy barbarian,” Jaxon muttered under his breath.

And then, from above—

“I’m bleeding from my ears here.”

The voice they were searching for finally reached them.

Dunbakel stood atop a tree. Her brow was smeared with dried blood, and her thigh bore a puncture wound. Despite her injuries, she descended with a light step, landing smoothly on the ground. She didn’t seem too badly hurt.

“Why’d you come looking? I could’ve killed that leader myself and come back,” Dunbakel said.

Enkrid nodded. Her tone had an unmistakable resemblance to Rem’s, likely because he had trained her.

“Sure you could,” Jaxon said, unimpressed, while Audin chuckled softly.

Rem’s fierce expression softened into a grin as he spoke. “When we get back, you’re starting over from the beginning.”

Dunbakel scowled at that. Why? She truly believed she could’ve handled it herself.

She was confident in her abilities, especially in the forest, where she held an advantage. Changing the battlefield to suit her strengths had been part of her plan.

Saving the others had been a secondary goal—something she’d learned by watching Enkrid.

As if reading her thoughts, Enkrid asked bluntly, “Why’d you do it?”

He was referring to her decision to save her allies by making herself bait.

Dunbakel blinked, processing his question. Then, she answered simply:

“Because I could.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration of belief or conviction.

But Enkrid liked that answer.

And what she said next took him by surprise.